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beenbaanbuun · 2 months

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cockwarming w/ san

words - wordcount? not round here, partner 🤠

genre - fluff, nsfw

warnings - stressed!reader, dom!san, sub!reader, subspace, guidance, soft!san (both him and his penis), cockwarming, clothed, san manspreading…

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thinking about cockwarming sannie… am i absolutely feral? definitely! ANYWAYS!!!!

you’re sitting on the floor, glasses slipping down your nose as you stare at the documents in front of you

not many of then make sense, but that could just be the tediousness of reading them setting in and slowing down your weary brain

all the words are moulding into one and entire paragraphs are jumbling together as you desperately try and focus

you so desperately want to reach for your phone and give yourself a break

but you remind yourself that you’re just looking for distractions which is really not what you need when you’re struggling to focus anyway

so you start from the top, attempting to read the paper from the beginning

and you don’t get very far when you hear the front door open and your attention once again slips away from the paper

you turn slightly, just enough to see san step into the apartment and take his shoes and coat off

the way his shoulders sink in relaxation is visible and he lets out a long, deep sigh of relief at finally being home

your papers are almost forgotten as you watch him make his way towards the armchair in the corner of the room and take a seat

in fact, as he relaxes, spreading his thighs out until there’s a perfect you-sized gap between them, the papers are the last thing on your mind

“hi, pretty,” he croons as he shuffles to get himself comfy, “good day?”

you nod, mouth going dry at the way his hand naturally falls to rest just inches from his crotch, his pretty fingers flexing a few times before settling against his thigh

his beautiful, thick thigh that is almost fully exposed by those little gym shorts he insists on wearing

you stare at it for a moment or two, noticing the way it flexes slightly against the hem

his honey skin is still slightly shiny from the residual sweat of his evening workout

just the thought of him using his pretty thigh muscles to lift himself up from a squat is enough to send your brain into a dizzy haze

“looks like you’ve been working hard,” he smiles, head dipping to gesture to the pile of forgotten papers on the table, “is that research for your thesis?”

it is, you think to yourself, not that you’d actually learned anything from reading, sorry, trying to read any of it

“yeah,” you answer him, “but it’s all so boring than i can barely even look at it without wanting to die. i’ve been at it for hours and i can’t tell you a single thing i’ve read.”

there’s a pout on your face as you mumble out your complaints; you’re adorable when you’re all moody like this

“learning isn’t linear, baby,” he chuckles, “the fact that nothing’s sticking in that little brain of yours probably my just means you need a break.”

“i’d love a break,” you admit, “but i’d also love to get through this pile of research by the time we go to bed, so…”

“so… take a break and go back to it later,” san shrugs, “not like all that paper is suddenly going to grow legs and run away, right?”

you scoff at his sarcasm and the smug look on his face, but you know he’s right; you probably should take a break…

“but i know if i take a break i won’t want to do it anymore,” you say, although the excuse sounds weak even to you

“then do it tomorrow; it’s not like it needs to be done tonight, honey,” and he’s right, so you nod, and he smiles

but the feeling of stress doesn’t go away as you pile up the sheets of paper in the centre of the coffee table

and it doesn’t go away as you save your thesis draft and close the lid to your laptop

your shoulders are still very stiff, and your head is still feeling weary from just how hard you’d been trying to focus

even when you slip your glasses off, a physical weight lifting from your face, your brain doesn’t slow down

it just doesn’t let you settle like you and san so badly want you to

he watches you fidget with your surroundings, eyes flicking to the pile of papers every so often whilst your fingers drum against the table restlessly

he sighs; clearly you’re going to need some help with this

“baby,” he says softly; you look at him and all he can see is stress written across your features, “do you want me to help you relax?”

your eyes flick over to him, still manspreading in the chair and looking the the picture of masculinity itself

you know it wouldn’t take long for him to silence your brain; not when he already has your brain feeling a little on the foggy side

you nod, mumbling out a small ‘please’ that he can barely hear

“come here then, baby,” he pats the inside of his thigh with his palm, the sound ringing around the room, “come sit with me, yeah?”

it takes a second for you to register what he’s asking you to do, but when it finally does, you feel your breath hitch in your throat

he hasn’t closed his legs for you to sit on, and the hand that rests on his thigh doesn’t shift to make space for you

why would it when there’s already a you-shaped space between his thighs?

you watch as he reaches behind him to grab the cushion from the chair, pulling it out and placing it on the floor between his feet

you cant stop the soft whimper that leaves your throat

“come on, pretty thing,” he coos, “you know it’ll help you.”

and you do know that, you really do

it’s exactly the push you know you need to take your mind off of everything, and holy fuck do you want it

so you shuffle towards him on your knees, inching closer and closer to that spot that seemed to be just made for you

he smiles at you as he watches you settle in on the cushion, the plush material taking the pressure of the cold, hard floorboards off of your delicate knees

you shuffle around a little, trying to get comfy before looking up at him, wide eyes looking into his own

and he can’t help but brush a hand across your cheek, chucking as you lean into his gentle touch

“my precious girl, aren’t you?” he whispers, running a thumb over you cheekbone, “working so hard; you’re so good, aren’t you?”

he shifts his hand until two of his fingers press against your lips

you separate them to allow his digits inside of the warm, wet cavern; he can’t help but fill with pride when he sees just how good you’re being

the tips of his fingers slide to the back of your tongue, caressing it slightly until he feels your throat constrict around them

he pulls them back slightly, instead pushing them down on the centre of your tongue to make your drool puddle up around them

“just let yourself stop thinking, okay?” he says as he plays with your tongue, “you’re too stressed, baby, and it’s not good for you.”

he caresses your wet muscle with his fingertips; you let your eyes flutter closed at the sensation

“turn your brain off for me,” his voice is soft as he talks you down into an all-too-familiar headspace, “be good for your big boy, hm? let me take care of you.”

and with the combination of your position between his legs, the fingers in your mouth, and his pretty words, you find it so incredibly easy to just… slip away

any thought of your thesis is gone and replaced with san

the worries about finishing on time, and the concerns about the reading you don’t quite understand; san

everything is just… san

you let out a small sound as you push your head down onto his hand, taking more of his fingers into your mouth

the weight of them on your tongue was nice, you decide, but not quite enough

they don’t quite hold the warmth and heaviness that your tongue is craving

it’s not quite enough to completely ground you like you know you need

“you want more?” he always has been so good at reading you; you nod around his fingers, “want your big boy’s cock in your mouth?”

you moan at the thought, desperately moving your head up and down to tell him yes

“does my precious girl want to warm her big boy up? is that it?” yes, yes, a million times yes, “want to wrap your pretty lips around me while you relax, hm?”

he chuckles when you pull off of his fingers and sit there looking at him through your lashes with a slack jaw

so pretty, he thinks when you stick your tongue out and blink up at him through those fluttery lashes of yours

pretty enough that you have him wrapped around your pinky finger

he really would do anything to make you happy, and it seems that what would make you happy right now is him in your mouth

so he wastes no time in reaching for his waistband and pushing it down his thighs to reveal his soft cock

he takes it in hand and holds it out for you, waiting patiently as you lean forwards to press a kiss to his pretty pink tip

“no teasing, baby,” he taps the blunt head against your lips, “open for me. warm me up like a good girl.”

his voice is smooth and buttery, and it makes you want to listen

you open you maw, rolling your tongue over your bottom lip and waiting for him to feed himself into your mouth

there’s a hand at the back of your head as his tip makes contact with the pink muscle

the hand pets your hair softly as it guides you onto the cock, pushing you further and further down until your mouth is stuffed almost completely full

“breathe through your nose, baby,” san instructs you as he pushes the tip of his cock to the back of your tongue, “come on, pretty girl; i know you know how.”

you don’t need the reminder, having done this plenty of times before, but you still like the guidance he gives you in that low cadence

you like his voice, and the way he tells you what to do because he knows just how much you don’t want to think right now

you close your eyes as you feel your nose brush against the smooth, sticky skin of his lower stomach

his freshly shaved pubes prickle you, but that’s the least of your concerns when your senses are just overloaded by the comfort of your boyfriend

the smell of his cologne mixed with his natural musk settles in your nostrils filling you to the brim with the familiar scent of home

and the way he sits in your mouth, hot and heavy and full makes you melt against his muscular thigh like it’s your own personal pillow

his hand on your head threads its fingers through your roots, fingernails scraping against your scalp in the most comforting way imaginable

a deep sigh leaves your mouth; one of relaxation and contentment

san hears it and feels his body ease into the chair

“good girl,” he hums, “so good for me.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez fic #san fic #san x reader #san fluff #san smut #san oneshot

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gorejo · 5 months

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▸ RUDOLPH - GOJO SATORU. (forbes30!gojo au)

synopsis: you've heard your boyfriend scream three times in your life. once in a haunted mansion, another when he thought a certain gremlin was supposedly dead, and lastly... after a shower, down the stairs as he sulked practically naked with only a towel covering his hips — a total drama queen.

content: 3.5 k words, unedited. reader is satoru's girlfriend, she/her pronouns. a little snippet of Toji and his babies (Megumi and Tsumki), noncanon complaint. it's a little suggestive, but it should be okay to be deemed sfw ◡̈ can be read on its own, but this is part of the forbes30!au !!

kudos to you if you know which scene from a popular studio ghibli movie inspired me. because you can't convince me gojo isn't him ◡̈ header from @/ooreonii from twt

“AHHH ahhHHHH!”

There was no one else who could scream like that but him.

You heard it once or twice. No, it’s thrice — including today, in which Satoru’s done it twice already.

Once, it was at a haunted mansion during college with his hands all clammy, his body jolting with every jumpscare. And with a trembling voice, he would try to protect you from the actors.

The conclusion? Well, he ended up needing to be escorted out because he nearly knocked someone out with his fist screaming, accidentally breaking the majority of the set, including a cast member’s nose while at it, “get the fuck away, you gremlin!”

“It’s the heart that matters…” Suguru mumbled, shaking his head while standing beside you, both pitifully watching Satoru catch his breath under the shade, body slumped with his legs spread out while chugging some water.

Escorted is kindly speaking for what he did — kicked out is more exact.

The second time was when he thought Megumi was dead. The pure shock in his eyes when he found the little boy unmoving with arms flayed like a starfish in the middle of the living room, unresponsive to his teasing chimes when entering through the door.

“My little brats, look what I bought — what the fuck?!” Satoru’s body immediately retaliated, tripping on his way as he ran to the living room with one shoe barely on.

You can’t forget the shrill in his voice when he saw Megumi with red splattered all over his chest, the rise and fall of his agile body barely visible.

With his lips quivering, Satoru hurriedly dropped to his knees to check the boy’s responsiveness, only to almost faint — going from heaven and down because god decided to boot him back to earth — when Megumi suddenly woke up, with his hands mimicking a ghost,

“Boo!” The boy stated with the littlest of emotions, face paling with nonchalance.

“AHHH ahhHHHH!” your boyfriend screamed, falling back with his chest huffing for air and his cerulean eyes about to pop out of his sockets while his glasses landed crooked on his nose.

It was ketchup.

And off on the side, you could hear a little girl giggling while peeping at the scene from the small corner of the hall, trying to record it all on her phone cutely strapped around her neck.

“I’m going to tell your dad,” Satoru grunted while lying down, pulling the little boy on top of him while squishing his chubby cheeks, “I should just throw you in the dumpster and tell your dad you ran away, you brat.”

“Otou-san said you can’t,” Megumi muttered, sticking out his tongue, his small hands struggling to grasp around Satoru’s wrists with a furrow to his dark brows.

And running over from the corner, giggling while she plopped herself on top of her brother, Satoru released a deep grunt from the impact.

“Papa said he’ll kick your ass if you do, Satoru-kun!” Tsumiki giggled while showing him the front screen of her phone, flashing him a toothless smile.

“You did not just call your dad!” Satoru immediately grabbed it when he saw who it was, the utter annoyance of his face dispelling with each second he was on call.

“I hope my kids are well, Gojo-kun,” a deeper voice radiated from Tsumiki’s cell, one with more maturity and weight, “and will not be found in some dumpster when I come back, right?”

Satoru’s face sours and a frown immediately forms, “Hey! At least pay me — Ow!” he grunted while Tsumiki made her way down to attack her next victim – the locks of his white hair.

“As I was saying, at least pay me to clean up after these brats,” he slightly turned around to see the little girl playing with his hair, her nimble fingers painfully unaware of the strength they beheld when she tugged at his strands, “Tsumiki-chan ow! Be gentle with the hair please…” he pleaded before giving her father back his attention, “I’m not your company’s intern anymore!”

“You're already rich, don’t be so selfish with money Gojo-kun,” the man sarcastically nagged.

“Maybe we can cordially talk when you make it into the top ten of the list,” Toji further teased. Clearly, your boyfriend’s vexed expressions were the fuel for further aggravating him, “until then you’re always be my intern.”

“You fuck at least put —” you instantly close his mouth with your hand, giving him a quick glare to shut his mouth.

“Good afternoon Zenin-san,” you smiled unsure why the screen was so dimly lit, but your attention quickly gathered to your boyfriend trying to lick your palm.

Pulling away when you felt his warm tongue swirling around your palm, you glared down at Satoru cheekily smiling back with a wink.

"I like it when you put me in place."

“Satoru that’s gross —”

“Well, it’s actually 2 am here," Toji cleared his throat, "but I presume Satoru’s keeping things pg friendly,” the older man smirked, the edge of his scarred lip slightly tugging upward when he noticed your mortified expression — he’s topless, completely bare with his pectorals bulging, just showing right above his nipples.

“O-oh gosh, I’m sorry,” you tried looking elsewhere, distracting yourself by looking at the kids bothering Satoru. Surely, the man was far from being pg-friendly with his nips teasing to show.

“No need, it’s my fault, I picked up because Tsumiki called,” Toji grunted, reaching over to quickly pull a shirt over himself, “but I didn’t mean to scare you, darling.” Despite his large physique and sharp features, with his gaze piercing and cut-throating low voice, Toji was sweet, a good father to both his children — a reputable person overall. It radiated from the way he spoke, his aura, and how he disciplined his children. If he wasn’t, surely your boyfriend wouldn’t have kept in contact willingly with his mortal enemy. He would’ve never agreed to take care of his kids, despite Satoru adamantly arguing that he was thrown into it.

Peeved that your attention wasn’t on him but the obnoxious prick on the screen Satoru grumbled while rolling his eyes with a hand squishing both of Megumi’s cheeks, while the boy desperately tried to pull himself away, and the other holding onto his hair from being pulled out by Tsumiki.

“Stop flirting with my girlfriend, weirdo.”

“There’s a beautiful lady in front of me that’s very good with my kids.” Both his children nodded in agreement, with Megumi mumbling through his puckered lips, “and cooks better too, does everything better than you,” the little boy glared at Satoru’s appalled expression, stretching out his short arms trying to reciprocate his actions.

“Megumi-chan! You’re being rude,” Satoru pouted while he tried to dodge Megumi’s advances on trying to smother his face.

“So, can you blame me when she stole my attention? I’ll be a fool to let her go.” The man winked at you, a childish glim to his eyes, one similar to his children – especially his son.

And as by reflex, the moment he heard those words, Satoru carefully yet swiftly put Megumi down, and set him on his lap before grabbing the phone from you, “Nope, nuh uh, we ain’t doing this today. Imma bill you for the overseas phone charge.” And flipping the screen to his kids, “and kids say your final goodbyes to your dad.”

“Bye papa! See you tomorrow! Bring lots of gifts please!” Tsumiki giggled while waving goodbye with her brother.

“one minute late and these gremlins are in the dumpster,” Satoru grumbled at Toji despite Megumi securely sitting in his arms, and Tsumiki practically hanging off his shoulders.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow, alright? Listen well and be good,” contently smiling at his beloved children, and nodding a sign of gratitude towards you before smirking at your heated boyfriend, “and I’ll be expecting a coffee from you my Intern, no sugar with light — ”

The call has ended.

“Papa will get you for that…” Tsumiki giggled with her arms tightly around Satoru’s neck, her small feet bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Well, I can take him,” your boyfriend muttered before snatching both kids, tucking one in each arm, and carrying them off to their respective room, “wait for me here babe, gotta put these brats in the dumpster.”

“Remember to clean off the ketchup on Megumi’s shirt as well!” you called out, giggling when you heard the two bickering off in the distance.

“Ketchup?! Do you know how expensive this shirt is?”

“No, but it’s probably not expensive because you’re wearing it.”

“Why you little —”

And well, today, this happened to be the third time. Albeit, his voice wasn’t as high pitched during his freak episode at the horror house but still. It was almost on par — just a little deeper but a lot more dramatic.

Thump!

“ahHHH baaaaaaaabe!” His scream barely muffled despite coming from the second floor.

“What! What! Satoru!” you jolted from the couch, your eyes searching for him while adrenaline quickly struck through your body, “what happened!”

You heard him drawing closer. The thunderous thuds of his feet slapping against the floor and the painful thumps of his body hitting the wall become louder with each millisecond.

And as if on autopilot, your boyfriend ran down the steps with a white cotton towel loosely wrapped around his hips with his torso bare and arms deliciously flexed while clenching his damp white hair.

It was a miracle he didn’t trip down those stairs. But would’ve sure been a sight to see – for both your amusement and admiration.

“Babe!” he shrieked while fastidiously running over, “it’s hideous!” he yelled while making a complete stop in front of you with his chest heaving. You weren’t sure if his hip dimples and his inguinal crease were oddly accentuated more than usual because he was just half-naked… or because he looked hot half-naked. Though the shrill of his voice did make you reconsider your options.

“Look!” he screeched, his body shriveling up in panic while his lips formed an immediate pout when you couldn’t notice his dilemma.

“What is?!” you scanned his face, seeing nothing abnormal about it.

“Can’t you see?” he whined, his eyes desperate for you to notice, “look at this!” he pointed to a particular red spot right under his nose.

“It’s a pimple, Satoru,” you deadpanned, “what about it?”

“I know… I never had one in my life,” he groaned while dramatically falling onto the couch, uncaring if he wasn’t particularly wearing anything underneath.

Rolling your eyes, “Welcome to the mortal world, Satoru,” you murmured while slumping onto the couch with him, "you almost gave me a heart attack."

You tried to steady your breath, glancing over to check up on your over-dramatic boyfriend rocking himself while murmuring under his breath. With his toned back delicately carved in areas you didn’t even know muscle existed, you choked back a moan and mentally slapped yourself from trying to restrain yourself from feeling every crevice of his toned body.

“and you might want to close your legs a bit unless you want to go to jail for flashing any innocent eyes.”

“I give up,” he sobbed while crouching over with his hands fisting his hair, his towel barely wrapping around his pelvis, and the crack of his ass cheekily peaking through the edge.

Dramatically, through his breath, “I see no point in living if I can’t be beautiful.”

“Aren’t you being a little too much?” you chuckled while shaking your head, pushing yourself off the couch to sit on his firm lap, his arms immediately finding refuge around your waist.

“No,” he sulked, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, “now I’m repulsive.”

“It’s just a pimple, ‘Toru you still look pretty —” he further burrowed his face towards you, his warm breath just gliding against your skin, almost ticking you as he unknowingly moaned when you accidentally scooted closer to his body, just brushing against his minutely exposed manhood.

“No, you don’t understand,” he interjected, his voice slowly morphing into an exaggerated sob, “it’s not just a pimple, this pimple strips all my privileges and dignity of being your hot boyfriend.”

Satoru tended to exaggerate. The most recent being the time Suguru called you, a couple of weeks back, dramatically stating he was sick and in the hospital for an unknown disease. Only for that unknown disease to suddenly also be an uncurable one via text that oddly didn’t have Suguru’s usual texting style, with too many emoticons and expressions, but you dismissed it while frantically making your way to the hospital.

It was hard to define the emotions you felt when you heard from Shoko herself — appalled, flabbergasted, stunned?

No — none of the above. there were no words because your boyfriend always managed to leave you breathless — literally and figuratively.

“I’m sorry… h-he has…” pursing her lips as she clenched her fists, “I need attention or else I’ll die disease,” the doctor mouthed sorry right after.

And that’s fine if he did, the issue was that he tended to exaggerate, teasing against the boundaries of being a complete lunatic or passionate. A case you have yet to solve, but you wish it was the latter.

“You big baby, you’ll be fine,” you comforted while combing your fingers through his soft hair, the faint smell of his shampoo tickling your senses.

Massaging his scalp, knowing all will be well, even his dramatic ass will soon dissipate if you coddled him just the right way, “see,” you hummed while pointing to the blemishes on your face, “look, ‘Toru! I have some too!”

“But yours is different,” he didn’t even look up, “and you have four, pumpkin I counted this morning,” he mumbled.

“Okay, rude, I do not,” you pulled back your hand, his head immediately jolting over to look at you with a little frown.

“Stop that, put it back,” he grumbled, taking your hand and placing it back on his head, “you do.”

“Hey —”

“I kiss them every morning, and I’ll kiss a hundred more if you have them.” Kissing the back of his hand before groaning with his face nuzzled into your stomach. “But that’s beside the point, I look hideous.”

“Wow, sir,” cupping his face, his lips protruding out and cheeks squished in your small hands.

“Hey!” he retaliated at the audacity for you to pull away again, yet you felt his hand immediately find refuge on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

“You’re obsessed.” you giggled, pinching his cheeks, feeling a sense of familiar butterflies when you saw him slightly furrowed his brows as he let you play with him.

“Yea, so vhat? It’s muthing mew,” he grumbled, his words muffled as you squeezed his cheeks.

“Nothing,” you hummed, “let me kiss yours too then.”

Looking off the side, muttering under his breath as he tried to nonchalantly lean closer into you, "i think… that’ll make me feel better…”

Despite the craziness that he imposed and the rambunctious energy he dissipated off the clock, Satoru was easy to love.

“Muah!” You placed a kiss on his small blemish, “you’ll be my cute Rudolph till this goes away,” you teased.

“You’re the worst.”

“Who'll humble your high ego but me,” dramatically sighing before pushing back his bangs and placing a soft kiss on his forehead, “it’s a draining job, you know?”

“Stop teasing,” he pulled you into his body, his arms tightly wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, “be nice to me because I'm suffering.”

“You’re still handsome,’Toru,” you cooed, feeling the whispers of his breath glide against your skin, his hair lightly tickling you.

“Yea? Tell me more.” Satoru’s lips gently peppered along your torso and up your neck, the heat of his body radiating over to yours making you feel hot with his tender touch as he ran his hand warmly down your back.

“Nope!” you smirked, pulling his gaze upward as you stared down at his glistening eyes, “one compliment a day, or else you become unmanageable with your pride.”

“wow, just tell me you hate me,” he grumbled.

“Gotta keep my princess humble, ya know?” you winked before landing a short, sweet kiss on his soft lips. “let’s go upstairs, ‘Toru” tapping his back.

But instead, you felt his arms tightening around you, ignoring your words as he further nuzzled himself into your chest. “C’me on loser, I’ll put some medicine on it for you,” you softly stated, gently pulling away to stand up while grasping his hand, using extra strength to tug his dead weight.

“Just watch, the little brat is going to say something, I just know…” he groaned while he followed you to the bathroom, his feet practically dragging behind you like a toddler.

—-

“Ten bucks he’s going to say something.” Satoru bargained, leaning against the kitchen counter while he took a sip of water.

“Just act normally, Satoru… there’s no way he’ll know, he’s only a child.” Your eyes were focused on putting a couple of bandages on his right hand, small cuts that he’d gotten from the morning trying to prepare breakfast.

“You truly undermine him, he’s not your average kid… he’s scary, babe.” Shuddering while clenching his eyes, “evil just like his dad.”

“Well I do think Toji-san is a gentleman, and Megumi will grow just like him.” you hummed while locking up the first aid kit, “and plus, you’re the one that agreed to babysitting them.”

“I didn’t agree, I was forced to,” he corrected, “the man threatened me if I didn’t.”

“I’m sure Toji-san didn't threaten you.”

“You don’t know him like I do, the man is the devil himself.”

“I mean… he was technically your boss since you decided to intern for him.”

“It was that or I was to get engaged to —“

The door opens. Satoru flinches when he hears two different steps come through the hall — one happily skipping, unthreatening, the other… silently treading closer in, each step mysterious like the stoicism on his face.

“We’re back!” The older one chirped, the bottom of her bag lightly tapping against her back while she ran over, her small feet softly rapping against the floor.

“Hey pumpkin,” you welcomed, dropping to your knees to level to her height, opening up your arms to offer her a hug and take her bag, “you hungry, kiddo?”

“Mhm,” Tsumiki giggled, flashing her eye smile, “also! I finished all my lunch too!”

“Aww you did?” Nuzzling your nose with hers while she gently cupped your face, “Satoru tried extra hard with it today,” you grinned.

“Satoru-kun made us late again.”

“Oh he did,” you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend awkwardly trying to avoid your gaze, “guess, he forgot to mention that to me today,” you responded looking back at him awkwardly avoiding your gaze.

“but I forgive him because everyone was jealous of my lunch today!” jumping on her toes, her face filled with excitement, “And he did my hair, look!”

“You little gremlin, that was supposed to be a secret.” Gojo huffed, hiding his bandaged hand behind his back, unable to hide the twitch of his lips, proud of the little girl’s compliment.

“Hello.” a toneless voice alerted his presence from behind you, raising his hand to say his greetings with the typical indifference to his face.

You can almost hear the sharp gulp Satoru took when Megumi entered — viscous and think, nervously pulled down his throat.

“Hello, Megumi-chan,” you warmly smiled, reaching over to take his bag.

“It’s okay, I got it,” the boy murmured, “it’s heavy and you have Tsumiki’s already.”

“What a gentleman,” you cooed while gently tapping his head, “go wash your hands, ‘Toru and I will prepare your snacks.”

“Okay,” Megumi mumbled while walking away, taking a quick glance at Satoru before heading over to the restroom.

Quickly standing up and quietly jogging over Satoru, you whispered while nudging him with your elbow, “See, I told you ‘Toru, he didn’t notice.”

“There’s something off…” his gaze warily staring at the back of Megumi’s head, “I swore I saw him —”

“Well, I think you’re just overreacting, he’s just a child —"

“guess Christmas came early.” the little boy muttered just before entering the bathroom, smirking as he pointed forward, making it abundantly clear who the recipient was of his comment.

“You’re silly, December just started, Gumi.” Tsumiki stated, confusion apparent in her tone at her brother's statement as she stepped onto the stool to reach the sink faucet.

No fucking way.

Megumi didn’t greet Satoru with his usual monotonous voice when he came home today. but instead chose to say his greetings in a rather more peculiar way, one with a higher pitch — the same one he had when he almost killed Satoru with his little prank months prior.

“Because look, Tsumiki, it’s Rudolph.”

author's comment: did you guess it?? it's howl from howl's moving castle! the specific scene with sophie mixed his potions while cleaning his bathroom and he has a mental breakdown? i saw an artist draw satoru as howl and I couldn't get it out of my head!!

#ae.writes #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #header by @/ooreonii

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zanarkandskylines · 3 months

Text

Unexpected Treasure

『♡』 pro-hero fem!reader x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-hero au | married | aged to 26 ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡

summary: when bakugo gets caught up in the office after his patrol, you decide to send him some spicy semi-nudes in your hero suit with one sentence - "bringing you a surprise, stay in your office." tags & warnings: 18+ MDNI | CW; Smut - sexting, masturbation, dirty talk, praise, biting/love marks, oral (f!receive), nipple play, rough-ish sex, creampie, talks of pregnancy | porn-with-plot, lovers (married), fluff & tooth-rotting fluff, soft bakugo, feel good/comfort a/n: happy valentine’s day! this idea popped in my head and i couldn't stop thinking about how stinkin' cute it would be, so here you go! after the smut is when the tooth-rotting fluff starts!! ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 2,934꒱

[katsuki] gonna be late, sorry sweets. maybe another hour to get this stupid paperwork done

Damn, so much for a surprise dinner. You’ll just bring the surprise to him instead! You were too impatient to wait another hour to tell him about your day.

You slip into the bodysuit of your hero attire, shimmying into the neoprene and spandex as the material hugs your body like a glove. Usually you’d wear a set of tights underneath to cover your legs, but for this purpose, “forgot” them as they’d only end up getting in the way. You grab your phone from the coffee table, lying on the couch as you pose for a few shots of yourself.

Once you’re satisfied with the risqué pictures, you send the set over to your bombastic hero of a husband with one comment.

[y/n] * two pictures attached * [y/n] bringing you a surprise, stay in your office

You grab a bag with some spare clothes and throw on a long jacket to cover yourself as you head out the door. Before you have your shoes on, your phone dings three times.

[katsuki] holy fuck [katsuki] shit baby [katsuki] bring your office key, i’m locking the damn door

A coy smile crosses your lips as you shut the door to your shared apartment and swiftly make your way over to Dynamight Agency downtown.

───

The sunset’s rays poured into Bakugo’s 4th floor office, bouncing off the walls and illuminating the paperwork he’s begrudgingly working on. When his phone vibrates, he quickly peeks at the notification for your response.

Imagine his shock when he opens the texts to see two half-naked photos of his wife on the living room couch of your home.

“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, examining both photos with curious eyes. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat and ears heating up as the blood rushed straight to his groin.

The first picture had your suit’s front zipper sitting flush against your ribcage, right under your breasts, as they squished together. He could tell the material was barely holding them in place, your nipples perking through the stretch of the fabric. Your face wasn’t completely visible, just the pout of your perfectly plump lips.

The second picture, though? He audibly grunted as he stared at the glass screen.

You sat on the edge of the couch as the bodysuit rode straight up your center, hands on your thighs as your legs are spread. The snaps on the underside of the suit were struggling to stay secured as it settled in between the flush of your lips, covering nothing but your clit.

Bakugo was so enamored with your body that he didn’t notice when he started fisting himself through his cargo pants.

God, how did he get so lucky to land a bombshell like you?

Without hesitation, he unbuckles the clasps of his belt and shoves his pants and boxers down his thighs, reclining back in his chair as he ferociously gripped his dick. The heat of his palm edged him along as he kept his phone in the other hand, flipping back and forth between your two pictures with each stroke. All he could think about was how much he wanted to tear the snaps open on your crotch with his teeth and devour you, paint your luscious tits with hot cum, watch how your puffy lips wrap around his cock, and fuck you until you were screaming his name into the couch cushions.

The sound of the lock turning on his office door shook Bakugo out of his lust-ridden stupor as he rolled his chair to situate himself under the desk, hiding his erection from sight. You crack the door open, just enough to slip inside, and re-lock the door behind you. He’s panting as sweat rolls out from under his mask, crimson irises locked on to you like a predator spotting its prey.

Was he getting off to your pictures?

Fuck, that’s hot.

”Hey Kats,” you purr, stripping the coat from your shoulders and exposing your hero suit. You drop your bag by the door, along with the jacket, and saunter over to his desk.

“Looks like someone was enjoying himself.”

Bakugo scoffs, pushing his mask up on to his forehead and running a hand through his hair. “Guilty as charged. Can’t help it, you’re fuckin’ sexy.”

As you round the desk, you catch a full glimpse of his flushed cock, dribbling with pre-spend as it gleams against his flesh in the sunlight. You can feel the spandex of your suit getting moist as you bite your lip, yearning for his touch - the string in your belly already wound tightly over catching him in the act.

Bakugo springs up from his chair, letting his pants and boxers fall to the floor as he’s grabbing your waist and shoving you up against the desk between his legs. He presses against your center with his hard on, feeling the damp spandex rub against his shaft. Leaning back, you accidentally knock over the stack of papers and sending them tumbling to the floor.

“Looks like someone was enjoying herself,” Bakugo teases mockingly, rocking back and forth against your clothed slit. “Fuck th’ paperwork, rather fuck this pretty cunt of yours instead.”

A soft gasp falls from your lips as he removes himself from your center, kneeling down and pulling your hips to edge of the desk. His breath is hot against your sticky thighs as he licks the wet spot on your spandex, sucking on your clit through the fabric. You roll your hips closer into his mouth, begging for him for more. He smirks, diving into your core and nipping at the buttons on your suit. He grips the fabric between his teeth and throws his head back, successfully ripping the bodysuit’s enclosure open. It springs upward to the bottom of your stomach and exposes your glistening sex on full display, arousal seeping from your folds.

“Mm, someone’s eager,” he coos, swiping a finger through your slick. He brings it to his lips, half-lidded rubies flicking up to you as he swirls his tongue around his own finger, collecting it all seductively.

“God, baby, you taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Fucking hell, Katsuki,” you moan, rolling your head back as your mind floods with pleasure.

Bakugo groans as he plunges into your soaking wet center, drinking up every drop of your juices as his tongue circles back and forth from your entrance to your clit. You twitch as a sinful mewl spills out of you, echoing through his office.

“Sh-shit, sorry,” you whimper as another groan is coaxed out of you.

“Fuckin’ scream if y’wanna, baby. Don’t hide those pretty little moans,” he hums in between laps of his tongue, vibrations of his husky voice sent straight into your core. His fingers trail up your body to your throat, tracing your jawline as he moves to your lips, pressing his fingers to them.

“Now be a good girl and open wide.”

You obey, taking his digits into your mouth and roll your tongue around his calloused finger pads.

The inferno blazing in your abdomen is becoming unbearable, rapidly approaching your limit. You didn’t even need foreplay, the thought - and sight - of him jerking off to your pictures was more than enough to catapult you to the edge.

You pull back and release his fingers, a string of drool connecting from your lips to his fingertips.

”N-ah-not to r-rush you, babe, b-but I don’t wanna finish on you’re face,” you say between gasps. “I n-need you to f-fuck me until this goddamn desk breaks. I w-ah-nna come ah-ll over your -”

Bakugo doesn't let you finish your request as he's springing to his feet and scooping his hands under your ass. He positions himself up against your entrance and shoves his cock to the hilt inside of you - full force.

"Anything for you, princess," he growls, enjoying the site of your bouncing tits spilling out of your bodysuit as he begins to thrust aggressively into your weeping cunt. His hands grip into the plush of your ass as he pushes and pulls over and over again, spreading you open with his hot member.

The burn and stretch of him inside you makes you cry out in ecstasy. You’ll never grow tired of just how fucking good he feels, especially when he’s so deep that it feels like he’s rearranging your guts. It’s like he was destined to fuck you with how perfect the two of you meld together.

Bakugo takes one hand off your ass to harshly tug on the zipper between you two, releasing your breast from their clothed confinement. He immediately dips down while moving his hand to your back for support, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking with a rough pop of his lips. A frenzied moan escapes you, arching your back into his body, fueling a carnal desire within him as he continues to nip at your fragile skin, littering your chest with pricks of red in his wake.

You eagerly run your hands to the bottom of his tank top, tugging it up his chest and stopping on his pecs. The second your fingers roll over his harden buds, a guttural groan erupts from his throat. He lurches down, biting at your collarbone. You can feel his canines sink into your skin as you whine his name again and again, each one growing lustier with each snap of his hips.

"F-fuck, 'm not...g-uh," Bakugo stutters into the crook of your neck as he picks up the pace, his rhythm becoming haphazard as his thighs begin to tense.

"M-me too," you cry out, cupping his cheek in your hand to turn his eyes to you.

“I-I love you,” you whisper before biting at his bottom lip, sucking it harshly into a messy kiss as you beg for him to reciprocate.

He groans against your lips, crashing into you with his tongue and teeth, nibbling on your bottom lip in return. The lingering taste of your own cum swirls between your kiss as your body clenches, intoxicated by the intensity of your upcoming orgasm.

Bakugo breaks your kiss as his chest is heaving in sync with your own.

“I-fuck! I fucking love you,” he snarls in your ear. Your walls are clamping down all around his cock, the intense sensation too much for him to bare. He jerks a few more times as the both of you reach your peak, the wave of shared euphoria crashing down as you explosively release together. Heat floods into your center, a mix of your slick and his cum leaking down your thighs. Your body’s convulse in tandem, quivering from the recoil of your joint climax.

“Hell of a surprise, baby,” Bakugo whistles, catching his breath as he slides out of you and sits back in his office chair. He can’t help but stare at you as you soak in the afterglow of your orgasm. You were absolutely beautiful to him, especially splayed over his office desk stuffed full of his seed.

Good thing he had a corner office where no one bothered him if the door was closed. It was late, anyways, it was unlikely anyone was wandering around the agency at this hour.

You push off the desk and make your way over to your bag by the door. Rummaging around, you pull out a towel, a fresh pair of underwear, sweatpants and a Dynamight hoodie to change into. Bakugo notices and can’t help but cackle at how prepared you were as you change clothes and toss him the towel to clean himself up after you.

“I know you’re a through planner, babe, but damn.”

“Well, that wasn’t the surprise I was talking about,” you say mischievously.

He quirks an eyebrow at you as he fixes his shirt and scoots forward in his chair to finish putting his pants back on. “Oh?”

You strut over to him, straddling his lap and snaking your arms around his neck. He wraps his arms around your waist to hold you in place.

“I actually had a whole dinner and whatnot planned for tonight, but I couldn’t wait after you said you’d be caught up in the office.”

Bakugo’s confusion deepens at your comment, unsure of what it is you could be hinting at. He scrunches his brows together, tilting his head to the side.

“Sorry for gettin’ stuck here and messin’ up your plan. Now are y’gonna tell me what it is, or…?”

You’re mentally preparing yourself as you unlace one arm from around his neck and reach into the pocket of your sweatpants, trembling with excitement.

“Remember how I’ve complaining about how sore and achy I’ve been lately?”

“Yeah, y’had that blood test a few days ago. Did ya get that back today?” He asks, not following what that had to do with whatever surprise you had planned.

“I did,” you say as you hand him the folded piece of paper. “I found out why.”

Bakugo shifts the office chair closer to the desk, allowing you to lean back against the trim as he used his hands to unfold the paper. Your demeanor hints that you’re not sick or in bad health, so he’s not immediately worried. He’s scanning over the results until his eyes settle on one particular section.

“No fucking way, are you serious?!” He’s practically vibrating out of the chair beneath you.

You nod your head vigorously. “Mhm! Think Mitsuki saved your old All Might onesies?”

He snatches you by the waist as he jumps to his feet, cradling you as he spins ecstatically. You don’t recall a time, aside from your wedding, that you’ve seen him this overjoyed about anything. Setting you down on the desk, parting your legs to remain as close as possible to you. He cradles your face in his heated palms. The smile that adorns his lips is genuine, his eyes aflame with adoration.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, y/n.”

Bakugo locks his lips with yours, and the kiss isn’t sexual in nature. It’s full of love and endearment, a tenderness that makes your heart flutter and fills your body with bliss. When the two of you part, his eyes are glassy as he touches his forehead to yours.

“We’re finally gettin’ to start our family,” he whispers. “I’m gonna be a fuckin’ dad. Holy shit.”

Hearing him say it out loud makes you choke out the sob you’ve been withholding, beaming with happiness as your tears start to flow.

“Up for the challenge?” You tease playfully, sniveling and giggling as you pull him close for a hug.

“With you? Always.”

Bakugo takes a step back from your hold to delicately place a hand on your stomach, touching you as if you were made of porcelain.

“Do y’know how far along you are?”

“The doctor told me on the phone about 8 or 9 weeks. I thought my period was late from work stress all this time.”

“You’re definitely not workin’ after tonight!” Bakugo demands, his hands moving to your shoulders. “No way in hell you’re fighting with our baby taggin’ along in ya. I’m the boss ‘round here anyways, I’ll handle the stressful shit from now on.”

“Okay, hotshot. Calm down,” you joke, reaching up and ruffling his spiky locks. He sighs, shoulders slumping as the anxiety leaves his body.

“Now I feel kinda bad for railin’ you so hard against the desk,” he snickers, a blush creeping up his neck as he turns his head away from you.

“Oh, I don’t. How do you think I got pregnant in the first place?”

Embarrassment rushes straight to his cheeks, burning hot at your lewd comment. His reaction sends you into a fit of laughter, holding your stomach as you lay back on his desk.

“Better get used to not seeing me in that tight ass suit anymore, I bet it won’t even fit in a month’s time,” you exclaim, shaking your head at the thought.

Bakugo snorts. “Don’t matter if it fits or not, I’m gonna make ya wear it.”

You tilt your head toward him, smiling from ear to ear.

How’d you get so lucky? You’ll never know.

“So,” you exhale, sitting up on the desk. “Who do we tell first?”

He ponders your question and rolls his eyes at his own answer before speaking it aloud.

“Ma would kill me if her and pop weren’t first in line. Wanna stop by on the way home, get it outta the way?”

“Hah, alright. We can call my mom tomorrow and stop in. She should be back from her work trip by then.”

Another thought crosses your mind.

“Oh shit…do we tell Izuku or Kirishima first?”

Bakugo laughs out loud. “One step at a time, baby. ‘S a problem for tomorrow.”

Who would have thought this day would come? Two years of uncertainty and waiting has finally paid off, you couldn’t be more thrilled.

A memory flashes in your head from high school from a decade ago, walking into home room at UA High for the first time with Izuku as you spot Katsuki in the far row. You waved to him as he flipped you the bird, scowl painted on his face as he grumbled in his seat.

If someone would have told you that day he’s the one you’d date after graduation, marry and have a family with, you would have said they’re fucking insane.

And maybe it was insane, but you love every minute of it.

After this, I can imagine Bakugo deep diving into everything related to pregnancy - devouring every damn educational book, building the nursery three times before he's satisfied with its style and function, spoiling you endlessly with anything you ask for, and being extremely protective of you. :)

Divider by : @/saradika

#bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugo smut #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugou #bakugo fluff #bnha smut #mha smut #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #soft bakugo #☆.rei writes

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fairysluna · 1 year

Text

little wolf.

Cregan's little sister is the only one who can change his mind, which is why Aemond decides to use his charms and convince her to support the Green using some peculiar methods.

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Tags/TW: smut (p in v, loss of virginity, f!oral sex, praise, breeding, kinda innocent!kink), teasing, a bit of mean!aemond, slight dubcon, cregan being an overprotective brother, cursing. if something is missing let me know!!

Author's Note: mimor @tvrgvryen sent me this request a few days ago and I had to do it bc i loved it so much. So here it is!

Word Count: 4.9k

Aemond has always been a good observer. He has always noticed the small details, the reason why people acted as they did, the way people treated others. That's why it wasn't hard for him to realize how important you were for your beloved brother Cregan.

The day he first stepped into Winterfell after Vhagar gracefully landed on the snow, he saw how brave Cregan was for stepping between you and the enormous beast. However, that mere gesture exposed the big affection he had for you; his only sister, and with that, Aemond knew what was Lord Stark's greatest weakness… you.

He went to the North with a mission, a task to fulfill, and he was not a man that was known to give up on things. Aemond was resilient, determined. He would not accept a negative answer from the Warden of the North, and even though he knew about the oath and how Starks are famously known for being loyal to their words; he was eager to find his way to gain the North's support.

And his opportunity came up with you; the sweet, kind Lady Stark. Beloved by all, you were also known as the Heart of Winterfell, for it was said that even the small folk held dear for you. Everything that Aemond heard about you were nothing but good words, showing how much people appreciated you, which only impulsed Aemond's bad intentions.

It is true, a Stark never forgets an oath, but the North gathers when the wolf howls… and even though your brother was the visible face of your House, everyone knew that it was you the one that had true power over the masses; your gentleness made you the Queen of the North, and that information was enough for Aemond to start his devious schemes.

It all started at the training yard. The snow had fallen earlier in the morning, covering the ground with a thick layer of snow. He was staring at you as you struggled with a bow and arrow, not being able to hit the bullseye. This would only make you groan with impatience, despair even. Aemond pressed his lips and looked down at his shoes, trying to show himself amused by you wrestling.

"You're too tense, my lady," he said as he slowly walked towards you.

His black fur coat covering his slim shape, his white hair perfectly still despite the crazy wind, his hands at the back of his body. He looked so effortlessly elegant, it almost made you blush.

"My prince," you greeted him, bowing swiftly, "I'm sorry you have to watch this terrible attempt."

"I didn't know women were allowed to train here in the North," he spoke, politely as he stretched his arm to touch the fine wood of the bow you were holding.

"We're not," you replied, "but my brother insists I should be prepared to defend myself, so he forces me to train either way."

"Mhm…" he nodded, "your brother is a clever man. A beauty like yours is the target of many deprived men, he's doing well by letting you learn how to protect yourself."

"But he barely has time to teach me," you complained, placing your arms in position to shoot again, "now he's in a meeting with the Mormonts, and I am here," you let the arrow go, but it didn't even hit the target. "...failing miserably."

Aemond chuckled, and you inevitably blushed at the low sound that came out of him. You stared at him from your peripheral view, analyzing his undeniable beauty and flirtatious smirk which made your heart beat a little too fast.

"You're too tense," he repeated, as he shifted his position until he was behind you.

His hands went to your shoulders, and he squeezed them softly giving you a soft and short massage that made you close your eyes. Soon, one of his hands reached yours, the one that was holding the bow's grip. He wrapped it around yours, and you immediately felt his warmth on your cold skin. It made you gasp silently.

"You see, I'm not so good at using a bow, I think my weapon of choice is the sword," he whispered, getting closer to your ear, his breath smacking against your shivering skin, "but I know things… and I can teach you if you please, my lady."

His nose rubbed against your hair, and your delicious smell almost made him groan. Soon, the prince helped you to fix your position as your breathing was getting heavier and an unknown feeling was installed in your lower belly. You feel the heat even though it was freezing cold, you felt his body pressing against yours leaving a sensation of distress, as if your body was begging you for something.

You feared of someone seeing you; the position was quite compromising, and you were certain your reputation would be stained if someone witnessed such a scandalous scene. It felt too intimate for you, perhaps not so proper for a maiden like you. You would have tried to push him away, but there was something within him that did not allow you to do so; it was as if he had bewitched you with his charms, and you were under a spell from which you were not able to wake up.

"It's simple, my lady," he explained, "you must relax, you must let go," his voice so deep and low against your ear, "come on, no one's watching, you're under no pressure…"

His touch, so delicate and gentle, mixed with his words, which you quickly misinterpreted; 'no one's watching', it sounded more like an invitation rather than words of comfort. You couldn't help but to sigh, a gesture that brought a slight smirk upon Aemond's face.

"Let yourself go, Lady Stark," his voice turned more breathy, rapier. "That's it, so good… now, eyes on the target, don't take your eyes off of it, okay?"

You simply nodded, wildly blushing at his praise. There was a subtle shiver that went to your trembling hands, you cleared your throat trying to play it down.

"Take deep breaths, don't close your eyes," his hands left yours, now going to your abdomen, his nose brushing against your ear as he kept whispering, "good, good girl."

Your teeth captured your lower lip as you held back a whimper. Squirming in your place, you felt weak on the knees as his hands left a squeeze on your hips.

"Now… shoot."

You listened, and your hand let go of the string. Your eyes widened with surprise as the arrow hit close to the bullseye, which was certainly not perfect, but it was an improvement. A smile appeared in your face as you tilted your head to appreciate your achievement, and soon a giggle escaped you.

"Oh, Gods…" you sighed, "I did it."

"You did it," Aemond said, "you did so well."

His words made your face turn to face him, and his lips were just a few inches away from yours. Your breath hitched, as your heart pounded with so much strength that you thought he would be able to hear it… even feel it. His hand traveled upwards your body until it reached the nape of your neck.

For a moment you thought he would kiss you, that his soft-looking lips would dare to touch yours. But suddenly, he pulled away. Few seconds later, footsteps were heard dragging the snow beneath their feet, and soon you found out the reason behind his abrupt reaction.

"Sister!" you heard. The deep and roaring voice of your brother woke you up from your trance, and you turned around to face him.

You saw a frown upon his face as his eyes narrowed. For a moment you thought he saw how close you were with Aemond, but soon his own words proved you wrong.

"Septa has been waiting for you for an hour!" he scolded you, "why are you still here?"

It took you a while to speak, you knew your voice would come out weak and thin if you dared to utter a word in that moment, which not only would make Cregan be suspicious of what happened, but also would embarrass you in front of the charming prince.

Luckily for you, Aemond decided to step in.

"I was helping her train, my lord, I'm sorry for the disruption I might have caused," you looked down at the steps Aemond had left in the snow, right beside yours.

You were quick and subtle once you purposely stepped on them to erase them. Aemond noticed and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Well, stop your training and go," he demanded, "you might continue tomorrow."

You had no choice but to obey. One last glance was given to Aemond as you bowed to him, saying goodbye. Cregan followed your frame as you entered the castle, and then he turned to look at the prince. Aemond was no fool, he knew Cregan was not ignorant of his intention… he was a man after all, he could see through his facade with no big effort.

However, he did not say anything about it. He just nodded, and then he left leaving Aemond standing alone with the burning desire running down his body.

At first, he planned on just seducing you… but now? Now he will have you. He needed to have you.

That same day, quite late at night, you were found in your chambers, laying on your belly on top of the fur carpet right in front of the warmth of the fireplace. A book was between your hands as your eyes followed the traces of the poetic words that were written in it. The sound of the fire crackling and burning the wood was the only thing you were able to hear until three soft knocks interrupted the quiet calmness of the night.

You barely looked up as you muttered a soft 'come in', turning the page to continue with your reading. The door was opened in a subtle movement that you barely noticed, and soon you heard steps getting close to you.

It wasn't until you were able to see the shoes of that person that you decided to look up, only to find Aemond's grin staring back at you. You immediately sat up, crossing your legs and trying to cover your breasts with the book; the fabric of your nightgown was thin, and you knew that your skin could usually be seen through it if he dared to squint to take a look.

Your body hasn't forgotten about his touch and closeness, and in a certain way it was actually craving for more of that. But you knew it was not proper, you've heard whispers around the castle claiming that he was actually betrothed to one of Lord Baratheon's daughters, meaning he already belonged to someone else.

And yet, you couldn't help but to feel the eagerness to touch him.

"My Prince," you said, the shock of seeing him there, sitting on the carpet right beside you was shown in your voice, "what- what are you doing here?"

"I found myself alone and bored in my chambers, so I decided to wander around the castle and the path brought me here… to you," he smiled kindly as he said those last two words. Words that made your heart beat faster and your cheeks turn red, "were you reading?" He asked, pointing at the book that was covering your pebbled nipples.

"Uh… yes," you nodded, shyly, "it's a book about poetry."

"Poetry?" He asked, raising his eyebrows, "Mind if I have a look, little wolf?"

You couldn't help but to wildly blush with the pet name, feeling butterflies inside your belly as you pulled the book out of your chest and left it in his hands. Aemond's eyes inevitably went to see your soft breasts covered by a thin white layer of silky fabric, breathing deep and harsh as he felt his cock twitch inside his pants once he managed to see your nipples through it.

He remained calm, even when the only thing he wanted was to rip that gown out of your body and take you right there. Instead, he just sighed as his fingers elegantly turned the pages, reading some extract of the love poems in the book.

"I see you're a romantic person, my Lady," he commented, without taking his eyes off of the pages, "do you consider yourself a fan of the genre?"

"It's something that I enjoy reading, yes," you nodded.

"I had the impression," he confessed, closing the book and leaving it aside, "have you ever been in love?"

You shook your head, "I don't- I don't think so."

"Mhm…" he sighed, "that’s odd, you're a gorgeous lady, one might have thought you had a lot of suitors waiting for you."

"You're too kind," you said, looking retrained for a few seconds.

"I'm just stating the facts, little wolf," he spoke softly, "It seems like your brother likes to scare them away."

"Them?" You asked confused.

"Your suitors," he clarified, "that's the only reasonable explanation of why you are not married yet."

"He just wants the best for me," you defended him.

"And what would that be?"

"A husband who not only sees me as a womb with legs, but also as something precious, something worthy of love and care," your dreamy voice made Aemond smirk, the naiveness in you amused him in so many ways.

"You're asking for too much in a society like this, don't you think?"

You shrugged, "a girl can only dream."

The prince nodded, "and a man can only fulfill those dreams, am I right?" You remained silent, avoiding his heavy and penetrative stare at all cost, "have you ever been this close to a man before?"

"No…"

"I could tell," he chuckled, a sound that buzzed into your ears and made your mind go fuzzy, "you were quite nervous when I helped you with your bow this morning."

"I don't feel very comfortable with the proximity of men…" you confessed.

"Of all men, or just of me?"

That's when you realized where this was going, and the panic quickly installed in your gut as you swallowed hard. It took you some time, but you finally noticed his true intentions. You knew you had to stop him before things went further.

"My prince, I'm not quite sure what you mean by those words," you started to stand up, tumbling in your knees, "but it's late and it wouldn't be proper for you to be seen in my chambers, so please-"

Your words were interrupted by the sudden action of Aemond, who pulled you closer until you stranded him, your legs at each side of his body as he forced you to sit on his lap, his hands pressed in your hips firmly, not allowing you to escape from his strong grip.

"I think you know what I mean, my lady…" he whispered, leaning closer to your ear only to mutter with his seductive and raspy voice, "I think you can feel it."

Your breath hitched in your throat at the same time you tried to speak, "I- I don't know…"

"Tell me what you felt when I touched you this morning," he commanded, his hands lowering to your thighs, starting to lift the thin fabric of your gown, "was it similar to what you're feeling right now?"

"I… I don't-"

"I sensed your nervousness when I said how good of a girl you are," he chuckled, starting to breathe in your neck, smelling your sweet scent, "does that arouse you, little wolf? Being praised?"

"Prince Aemond, this is not proper, please-" you tried to pull away, but his grip pushed you down once again. Now you were able to feel his hard-on pressing right down your core, which sent you a sensation that caused chills down your spine.

"That's not what I'm asking you," he spoke sternly, massaging your thighs, squeezing them every now and then, "Mhm… my sweet little wolf, you're shaking. Are you nervous now? You don't have to be, I won't hurt you."

"I told you I do not enjoy this," you breathed out, feeling his hands reaching your hips underneath your gown.

"So you're telling me that if I dare to touch between your legs… I would not find your cunt drenching for me?"

His words made you squirm, the blush running to your cheeks as his thumb started to caress your mons pubis. Your body tensed as you widened your eyes, feeling his finger pressing down.

“I- I don’t- my Prince, please stop-” a small moan interrupted your words as he found your clit between your folds. His thumb rubbing it slowly as you closed your eyes; embarrassed that he was touching such a private part of your body.

“Have you ever been kissed, my lady?” He asked, trying to hold back a groan as he felt your slick coating his digit, “Has someone been lucky enough to be the first to claim your beautiful lips?”

You shook your head, Aemond hummed with delight.

“Then I guess I’ll be the first…”

You barely were able to process his words when he pressed his soft lips against yours. Slow movements that were easy for you to follow without much struggle as you held back whimpers of pleasure, for his thumb was still torturing your pearl in a slow and gentle manner.

Your hand fell on his chest, not with the intention of pushing him away. You grasp his thin blouse, catching the fabric between your trembling hands as you felt the tip of his tongue starting to tease your lips. Hesitantly, your lips parted just a few inches, enough to give him space for him to claim your mouth; swirling his tongue against yours as you tried to keep up with his slow and tempting actions.

He was able to taste your inexperience, the way you would doubt your movements before actually doing them was enough proof for him to know that you were not lying; he was the first man to kiss, which now made him more eager to also become the first man to fuck you.

A gasp escaped your swollen lips when, in a sudden movement, he laid your body in the soft carpet, spreading your legs and placing himself between them. Your nightgown was wrinkled around your hips, exposing your glistening folds to him as he kept playing with your now sensitive clit. Soft mewls were heard as he stopped kissing you in order to taste your skin. You felt the wet caresses of his lips in your neck, your jaw, your collarbones, all while your hands were grasping the fur of the carpet beneath you.

His fingers were soon covered in your juices, your hips trying to move against them in an attempt to feel more, but he pulled them away and you widened your eyes once you saw him licking them and humming after he felt your sweet taste against his tongue. Your breath was caught in your throat as you heard him groan.

"My lady, you taste as sweet as you are," he spoke slowly, you blinked a couple times still feeling your mind fuzzy, "do you want a taste?"

You gulped, not entirely sure of what to reply. The words were unable to come out, so all you could was nod.

A careless smile appeared on his face as he left a soft kiss on your cheek, before you realized your legs were on his shoulders and his face buried in your drenching cunt as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure his tongue was providing you.

His slurping was heard, echoing in the room as you tried to push his head away from your pussy, breathing fast and unsteady as he devoured you. You felt his tongue teasing your needy hole as his nose rubbed against your clit, making you moan a bit too loudly. His hands were grabbing your hips tightly, just to make sure you don't escape from him; his fingertips burying in your soft skin as your body writhe under his skilful mouth.

You could feel your own slick slipping down your thigh along with his spit. It was messy, far from being as slow and calm as the kiss he gave you before. He was eager to make you cum; licking, sucking, and fucking your cunt until you were nothing but a moaning mess.

It was over before you even noticed it. With a loud gasp, your eyes rolling and your thighs pressing at each side of Aemond's head, you reached your first orgasm, which finished with you gulping and hiccuping with pleasure. You heard him moaning against your soaking folds, collecting all your slick to then lean over your body.

He took a look at your face, your lips quivering as your cheeks were burning and tinted with a furious red. His fingers reached your chin, and made you open your mouth, which you did without hesitation. His spit fell in your tongue before your glistening eyes closed as you whimpered. You were able to taste yourself in it, the sweetness of your release coating your tongue.

"Swallow it," he commanded, and you quickly obeyed him, "good girl…" he let out a chuckle, and you couldn’t help but to feel an unknown heat running down your body. "See? I told you you were sweet, doesn't it taste good?"

You nodded, sighing.

"So good, so delicious…" he leaned to kiss you again as his hands pulled down your gown, freeing your breasts, "I swear it, my lady, I will not rest until your cunt is mine forever."

His big hands left a soft squeeze on your tits before they went to his pants, untying the lace and pulling them down. His leaking cock was now on your sight, hard and reddish. You barely noticed he took off his shirt as you were too hypnotized seeing that specific part of his body. Aemond immediately noticed your curious eyes, and he teasingly grabbed his cock in his hand only to stroke it a few times before letting it on top of your clit.

"Do you want it, my lady?" He whispered, starting to rub himself on you.

You whined, looking down at the obscene scene of his cock parting your puffy lips.

"Do you want my cock to make you feel good?" He groaned, feeling your slick coating his shaft, "I will give it to you if you ask me… Tell me what you want."

You gulped, trying to pronounce pleas.

"Aemond… I- I want…"

"Tell me, my beautiful lady," he muttered, "tell me what you desire."

"I want you… please… it's hurting, I-"

The head of his cock reached your hole and he slowly started to sink in you. Your eyes widened as a soft cry escaped your throat. Your legs closed as you brought them against your chest, and Aemond groaned in disapproval.

"Come on, darling… keep your legs open for me," he cooed, "I want to see your pretty pussy taking my cock."

He held the back of your knees, keeping your legs folded but spread. His cock was buried in your tight cunt as tears of pain started to fall down your cheeks. A loud cry was heard, louder than all of the others, and Aemond was quick to put his hand on top of your mouth.

"Sh, sh…" he whispered, "It's okay, it'll pass. Just relax, my lady, it will feel so good."

He spreaded you open with one push, your back arched as you struggled to take him. He stayed still for a few seconds before his own lust decided that he could not wait any longer. Your walls were squeezing him deliciously as he started to pound against you, groaning and moaning as the pleasure was taking the best of him.

Grasping on the fur beneath you, you started to sob. Aemond saw the signs of pain in your face and he quickly leaned over you in order to take one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth. The feeling that brought you was indescribable, and soon the pain became bearable as his thrusts remained slow but became harder.

Aemond would choke his moans against your tit as his tongue skilfully swirling around it, licking and sucking as he kept fucking you, each thrust going deeper and deeper.

"Fuck…" he sighed, "your pussy is so fucking tight. Made by the Gods just for me."

His words made you drool as the warmth of the fireplace was starting to affect you, making you sweat. His hand left your mouth, now going to play with your swollen and needy clit.

"This little cunt belongs to me now, doesn't it?" he purred against your ear.

"A-Aemond..."

He hummed, "how sweet you sound when you moan my name like that."

"P-please…"

"What is it, my lady?" he teased you, "do you want to cum? Do you want to make a mess on my cock?"

"Y-yes…" you managed to say, choking with your words as he thrusted harder, "Oh, Gods! Yes…"

"That's it, sweet girl…" he praised you, "taking me so well, so good. I'm gonna fill you up, leave you leaking with my cum. Is that what you want?"

"G-Gods… yes, p-please!" you whined.

"Then I guess I have no other choice but to give you what you want…"

A soft chuckle left him as his thrusts became faster. His hips smacking against yours as he gripped your arsecheeks to gain stability. The sound of your slick drenching around his cock echoed in the room as you started to cry out, sobbing with pleasure and begging for more.

Aemond looked at your cunt, and a soft and subtle whine was heard as he saw the way his cock disappeared between your folds. Your pleas would only make him desperate, eager to reach his climax and seeing your abused hole leaking his pearly seed. The image alone was enough to make his cock twitch inside you.

"Fuck, so good… so fucking good," he lifted your hips, pounding restlessly against you as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes as his breathing turned unsteady, "such a perfect pussy, squeezing me so fucking good."

You clenched around him, and that was what sent him over the edge, spilling his big loads of cum inside of you at the same time that your release exploded. Your cries were heard even in the hallway, as the intensity of your orgasm took over your shaky body. The feeling of him stuffing you with his seed sent you a shiver down your spine that made you twitch your hips.

Aemond leaned over you to kiss you, pounding lazily as he was coming down from his orgasm. You receive the sloppy kiss as your eyes were closing by themselves, too worn out to keep them open.

But then, Aemond decided to speak.

"Look at you, sweet girl…" he said with an odd tone that you haven't heard from him until now, "what would your big brother say if he saw you now, huh? Filled with my seed, a mess under my touch."

Your breathing stopped for a second and only then you realized what you did. You opened your eyes only to find a smirk on his face, and your heart dropped.

"You probably will be swollen with my bastard in a few months… then what would the people think of you? The Heart of the North carrying the Prince's bastard child…"

"N-no…" you muttered, starting to softly push his chest.

"Mhm, yes…" he scoffed, "unless I take you as my bride, of course."

A shaky breath came out of your nose as tears of despair fell down your cheeks, your bottom lip quivered as your gleaming eyes looked at his.

"W-would you… would you take me as your wife?"

Aemond smirked, starting to pull out of you. He hummed delighted with the view as he saw the pearly drops leaking out of you. He sighed, putting his pants on and fixing his clothes.

"If your brother decides to join his forces with ours, I will take you as my bride and no one will know this happened before our marriage…" he said, standing up and looking down at you. "But, if he decides to join my sister's army…"

He doesn't even need to finish the sentence for you to know the consequences of that. The panic ran down your body as you sat in the carp carpet, covering your nudity with your nightgown and crying.

"How- how am I supposed to-?"

"Cregan Stark will do anything his little sister commands," he interrupts you, taking a few steps towards you to gently grab your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look at him, "so you better choose the right option, my lady."

He left a caress in your cheek with a smug smile on his face. He abandoned your chambers, letting you there feeling helpless and a bit scared.

It wasn't a big surprise for him when a few days later Lord Stark gave him the good news… and Aemond fulfilled his words, marrying you a month after the North joined the war and helped King Aegon II win the final battle against Rhaenyra.

What was a surprise, was the birth of your first child, a month earlier than what the Maesters expected.

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perseephoneee · 8 months

Text

ask me to dance? [isaac lahey x f!reader]

request: can you do some wholesome isaac content?

warnings: pure fluff. teenagers being awkward.

a/n: me? remembering to write? shocker. literally struggled with this lol but i'm here and i'm trying to write more in order to be a productive member of society. also i'm so in love with Isaac it's not funny *cries*

↳ masterlist ↳ want to be shipped with a fic character?

It never really got cold in Beacon Hills, considering it was located in California. Still, when temperatures started to fall to a mild climate, it signaled to the teen population that winter was fast approaching. And with that came Winter Ball. Which is all you've been able to think about.

To anyone who would ask, it wasn't that big of a deal– but you secretly thought about it. All the outfits, the decorations, the romanticism of it all. Maybe it was the hopeless romantic in you, especially as someone who has never had a date. It used to not bother you; you were happily involved in your studies or worrying about being murdered by a supernatural at any time. But then you started spending more time with a certain werewolf and thought it wouldn't be that bad to care about that stuff.

"Do you think Scott is going to ask me?" Kira said, scaring you out of your thoughts as you closed your locker. You took in the dark-haired female beside you, her eyes questioning and fingers tapping her books. "Will I have to ask him?"

"He'll ask you," you sighed. "He trips over his shoelaces every time he walks down the hall."

"Maybe he didn't tie them well?" Kira looked down the hall as if the boy in question would show up.

"He likes you," you sent a small smile. Kira relaxed slightly, loosening her shoulders before facing you with a questioning glance.

"Do you have anyone to go to the dance with?" Kira inquired, plain curiosity in her eyes. You knew, though, that she wanted more info on if you liked anyone. Even with her as a good friend, you rarely discussed those feelings with anyone. Usually, you were the one everyone else confided in.

"Might not even go," you averted your eyes as Kira slapped your arm lightly.

"You have to go!" Kira begged. "I can't go alone if Scott asks me."

"Kira, you won't be alone if you go with Scott." She silenced you again with a sharp look.

"You know what I mean," Kira sighed. "I just don't want you to shy away from something you might enjoy. Especially when I am certain some eligible young bachelor or bachelorette would be interested in going with you."

You pressed your back into your locker, looking down at your scuffed shoes rather than the girl beside you. You glanced up when you caught sight of Scott and Isaac in your peripheral vision. Kira grew still as she saw Scott shuffling closer to you to hide. You tried shoving her, but the kitsune was an immovable rock as Scott and Isaac got closer. You saw Scott's eyes light up as he caught sight of Kira, and you wanted to smile when Kira's cheeks deepened. You made it a point to not stare at Isaac next to him, even if you really liked the blue sweater he was wearing. It's purely observational, with no lurking feelings behind it.

"Hey guys," Scott smiled, holding his backpack straps like a kindergartener on the first day of school. "Whatcha guys up to?"

"Talking about the dance," you answered right as Kira tried to pass your prior conversation off as nothing. She shot you an angry look, but you hid the smile on your face as Scott perked up. "Kira wants to go but worries about not having a date." The look Kira shot you could be akin to being burned in the seventh circle of Hell, but you knew that your fair-weathered friend would've spent the whole time pondering if Scott liked her rather than making a move.

"I don't have a date either," Scott grimaced, trying to pass off as a smile. Kira visibly perked up, and you and Isaac barely hid smiles. "Maybe we can go together?"

The glee that overtook Kira's eyes was radiant, and she nodded enthusiastically. "I would love that," Kira grinned.

"Great," Scott beamed. "Can I walk you to class?"

Kira grabbed her books, sending you a look that said, "We'll talk later," while happily following the alpha wolf. You turned towards Isaac, feeling your heart start pitter-patter as he made eye contact with you. He gave you a shy smile, fidgeting with the books.

"They seem happy," you sighed, trying to break whatever tension you imagined.

"I'm glad it worked out," Isaac said, his steel blue eyes connecting to yours. "Scott was getting annoying."

"So was Kira," you slyly smiled. "What about you?" Isaac looked at you inquisitively. "Are you…going to the dance?"

"I don't think so," he mumbled, averting his eyes briefly. You felt your heart sink in disappointment. Luckily, you were spared a response with the bell ringing.

"See you around, Lahey," you smiled jokingly, trying to brush off any lingering feelings you had. You turned on your heel and walked off towards the direction of US History. You barely paid attention in class, though, your thoughts consumed with the micro-interaction by your locker. You didn't like Isaac, right? You just were disappointed a good friend wouldn't be there at a dance you might not even be attending. Totally rational feelings. At least that was the mantra you kept repeating till the end of the school day.

You managed to keep most Winter Ball-related thoughts at bay for the rest of the week while you helped the pack deal with whatever issue. Sometimes, it felt like you guys lived in a CW show with a villain of the week, but somehow, fighting and scheming became part of your routine. You would never admit it to anyone, but you did enjoy the research portion of your problems. Even if it was you and Stiles eating pizza in his room while staring at way too many red strings. It made you feel wanted in a way that you haven't before. By the end of the week, though, the only research you were doing was for a class project. You were already debating when you could (reasonably) quit for the night and curl up with some Netflix or Hulu. Your phone rang by the fifth academic journal, and you glanced to see Lydia's name lighting up the screen.

"Hello," you said, setting your phone on speaker.

"Dress shopping tomorrow. Are you in or out?" Lydia asked on the other line.

"For what?"

"Winter Ball, obviously," Lydia scoffed, the sound of rustling clothes in the background telling you she was going through her closet. "The fact I've waited this long when it's two weeks out is actually ridiculous, but with our life, I guess it's not surprising."

"I might not even go, Lyds."

"Don't be like that," Lydia sighed on the other line. "What's holding you back?"

"Kind of lame to go to a dance without a date," you mumbled, shrinking back into your chair. Maybe if you curled up in a ball and became a turtle, no one would ever ask things of you again.

"All of your friends will be there, and most girls will probably ditch their dates anyway," Lydia chimed. "And besides, who cares? I don't have a date either, and I'm still going."

"I thought you were going with Stiles."

"In a completely work-related situation," Lydia coughed, even as you rolled your eyes. "He knows that."

"I'm sure he'll figure it out by the tenth corsage he buys you," you snickered.

"Just come tomorrow; Kira is joining. We'll get dresses, lattes, and have a day where werewolves don't intrude." You bit the inside of your cheek, staring at your laptop screen as the words melted into mush in your brain. You could at least hang out, even if you didn't buy anything.

"I will come," you amended, almost hearing Lydia's excitement from the phone. "I won't promise that I'll buy anything."

"Grab you at 11 a.m., be ready," Lydia chimed, hanging up the phone. You sighed and put your head in your arms, wondering what you got yourself into.

It was a reminder that waking up by 10 a.m. was a struggle for you. You barely dragged yourself out the door as Lydia spammed your phone, pleading for your coffee as you slid into the car. Kira laughed at you as you curled up in a ball and muttered about sweet death taking you soon. Lydia drove up to the coffee place, an ivy-strewn brick building called Cafe Allegro, and you bolted out of the car and through the doors. The smell of roasting coffee beans and the whir of the espresso machines welcomed you like a blanket on a cold night, and you wondered if you could ask that when you die, it could be in a pile of coffee beans. You ordered your latte, not having to wait long to get your order as you stood off the side, inhaling the fresh scent. Having been absorbed in your calm, you didn't notice the boy standing next to you.

"You are really into your coffee," Isaac remarked, scaring you out of your stupor. You made a pathetic yelp, grimacing as a chuckle escaped his lips.

"It's too early."

"It's almost noon."

"Too early," you sighed, sipping the heavenly goodness in your hand. "Why are you here?"

"Scott and Stiles dragged me to the suit rental place and told me they didn't want me left alone to wallow or something like that," Isaac laughed, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was wearing a heather gray henley today that you were enjoying and trying your hardest not to notice. "If it's so early, why are you here?"

"Similar reason. Lydia and Kira dragged me dress shopping," you glanced up at him before looking around the shop and realizing that your comrades were hiding on the opposite side. Annoyingly leaving you with the person who gives you immense jitters.

"Do you think you'll get a dress?" Isaac inquired.

"Not sure why, don't have a good reason to," you mumbled, staring at your cup. Gosh, your heart was beating fast, and your stomach hurt. Maybe you should've gotten something calming like herbal tea.

"You should get one," Isaac coughed, looking visibly uncomfortable. For a second, you worried that you were annoying him. "You would look…pretty."

"Thanks," your cheeks burned. "Then, you should get a suit." You swallowed, feeling like your head was in a whirlpool. Isaac's eyes looked at you with something akin to interest, but you passed it off as your caffeine-filled hallucinations.

"We should go to the dance together," Isaac said quickly, tensing slightly as he awaited your reaction. Your eyes widened, and you had to remember what solid ground felt like as his words sank in.

"I would like that very much," you breathed. Isaac's demeanor softened, relief flooding his eyes. He bit his lip to stifle his grin, which was the worst mistake he could've made as now all you were focusing on was his lips. "Gotta go," you announced, bolting from him before he could say anything else or before you jumped him at a coffee shop. You made it to Lydia and Kira and dragged them out of the door, not bothering to look back for fear of embarrassment. Lydia had mild complaints, but mostly, Kira gave you a knowing look.

"Is there a reason for this rush?" Kira asked, eyebrows lifted in question.

"I need a dress," you said. Lydia and Kira shared a grin and you knew there was a specific reason they left you with Isaac in the cafe. You wanted to strangle them and kiss them for it.

The ride to the dress shop was short, but the anxiety building like a knot in your stomach persisted long after. Isaac asked you to the dance. He asked you for some unknown reason. You guys were friends and occasionally worked together. Still, you struggled to have a conversation before that didn't end with you saying something weird and making it awkward. You used to chalk it up to just not having common interests. Still, if you admitted the truth to yourself, you would know it's because you had a giant raging crush on the werewolf. Words were not in your vocabulary around him.

Entering the dress shop (a cute place called Laura Jane's Boutique), you were suddenly reminded why you didn't really want to go in the first place. You love pretty things, but the over-glitzy dresses and jumpsuits are not your style. At least Kira looked as out of place as you. Lydia led the charge, though, immediately saying "no" to many dresses on the rack and holding up some options for you and Kira. You did love it, though, Lydia caring enough to try and find the perfect dress for her friends. It made you feel wanted.

You wandered into one of the back sections, skipping the colors you would never wear. What was Isaac's favorite color? Maybe that's the color of dress you should go with. Your inner voice told you it shouldn't matter what color you wear. Not just because you value your independence but because Isaac would love it either way.

You pushed some dresses aside on one of the racks, stopping at a shorter-length dress. It had bell sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. It was simple but not understated, and you loved it.

You went home that night feeling like you were on a cloud. Except, like all good things, your crippling insecurities had to rear its ugly head and make you start questioning everything. Laying in your bed, the dress still in its tissue-wrapped bag, you stared at the ceiling, debating what had happened. What if Isaac only asked you to the dance because it was convenient? Or worse, he was asked to by someone like Scott or Lydia? He probably didn't like you at all. Why would he? You were human. Unremarkable.

Vibrations could be felt in your head as your phone rang, and you begrudgingly grabbed at it without checking the caller ID. "Hello?" you grumbled.

"Hey," the tenor voice said from over the phone. "Can I come over?"

"Isaac?" you asked, sitting up in your bed. "Is everything okay?" Oh my gosh, was he hurt? Or rescinding his previous offer of the dance.

"I just want to see you," he breathed. "Is this a bad time?"

"Never," you answered quickly. "You can come over."

Ten minutes later, of anxious pacing in your room, you got a text from Isaac saying he had arrived. You ran downstairs to open the door, slightly winded from the rush. Isaac's face was illuminated by your porch lights, and all you could think about was how pretty he was.

"Hi," you spoke, looking up at him.

"Hi," Isaac smiled, "can I come in?" Nodding, you opened the door further so the golden-haired werewolf could enter. You gestured for him to follow, leading him to your room for privacy. You started to regret that decision when you realized that you had invited someone you were interested in into your bedroom. This was the plot of a bad romance novel.

"What brings you to my humble abode?" you inquire, twirling to face him.

"I came to check on you," Isaac glanced around your bedroom, smiling faintly at your posters on the wall. You watched his eyes catch on your corkboard, where a photo of the two of you at Derek's loft is in prime display. It was after saving the day, and Stiles had bought multiple tubs of ice cream to celebrate. Derek demanded why this "celebration" had to be at his place. However, Stiles had never once listened to Derek's complaints and hosted it anyway. You loved that picture and that memory.

"Check on me? I'm not in danger again, am I?" you smile, sitting on your bed and subconsciously grabbing one of your stuffed animals.

"Kira was over to see Scott and mentioned you might be 'spiraling into oblivion,'" Isaac turned to you, quoting Kira's words. Sometimes, you wondered if that girl was telepathic with how well she knew you.

"Maybe a little," you mumbled, fidgeting with your fluffy friend. Isaac hesitantly sat next to you on the bed, his weight causing you to sink closer to him.

"Can I ask why, or should I just infer?" he chimed, grabbing another stuffed friend you have and twirling it around. It was a blue chicken from a video game you play, with a cute pink gizzard and round body. "I like this one."

"Do tell," you chuckled, watching him squish the chicken plush.

"It's squishy," he muttered, patting it on the head before setting it carefully beside him. Your heart wanted to burst at the small interaction.

"I was worried about the dance," you responded, answering his previous question. He gave you a sidelong glance, asking you to elaborate. "I don't know why you asked me."

"I like you."

"Like me, or like me?" you whispered, barely able to get your voice heard. Unfortunately, Isaac is sitting next to you and has a werewolf hearing, so he didn't miss a thing. He hesitantly grabbed the stuffed animal from your fidgeting hands, putting it aside before carefully holding your hand in his own.

"I think you're amazing," he smiled, looking at you with eyes the color of a lakeshore. "So yes, I like you."

"I like you too," you breathed, a smile gripping your lips. "When did you get good at socializing?"

Isaac laughed, still holding your hand as he absentmindedly traced shapes on your knuckles. "Had lots of time to practice conversations while trapped in a freezer."

"You need therapy."

"Probably," he laughed, grinning at you before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Your breath caught in your throat as he looked at you. "Can I kiss you?"

You barely managed a nod, your heart thumping loudly in your chest as Isaac kissed your lips. It was soft and somewhat hesitant, like he didn't want you to run away afterward. You boldly deepened the kiss, as it felt like water filled your ears and a marching band played in your heart. The hand he wasn't holding you used to capture his face, his free hand lightly gripping the outside of your thigh. It wasn't fireworks but an ocean at high tide with waves crashing against the shore. And you didn't mind it one bit; you hated fireworks anyway. When Isaac did pull away, his breath was warm against your lips, and you had to remember to let out a shaky breath before you hyperventilate. Isaac kissed your cheek, pulling back to look at you with pure adoration on his face.

Kissing him again was pure bliss, and you couldn't help but look at him with awe. You weren't sure how you were granted something this good when you've spent your whole life dreaming of something worth half of this. Still, you wouldn't exchange it for anything. It meant you got to spend Winter Ball with the most handsome boy on the dance floor.

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey imagine #daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagine #fic #my fic #perseephoneee #my work #writing

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kachowder · 8 months

Note

ruthless, bloodthirsty yandere Pirate Captain X Prince/ss!Reader, either kidnapped or accidentally ended up on the ship nad now cannot leave

The rope dug into the soft skin of your wrists, leaving angry red trails with each thrash and and strive. Your teeth grit painfully, aching against each other as the sounds of water smashed against the wall behind you.

Salt invaded your senses, your eyes burning from the water that dripped from your head. You sneezed at either the smell of the deep, dark ocean, or the cold of your frozen clothes stuck to your skin.

Your brain fogged over what happened, and your body ached with exhaust, though you hardly halted in yours struggles, not till the heavy steps of boots approached the finely crafted door. A slow rasp of knuckles against the door. Then his god awful voice spoke through.

“Knock, Knock.” You could practically hear his foul smile, before the door was swung open far too aggressively. You winced as it smacked against the wall, shoulders tensing as you bared your teeth.

“You have a lot of nerve.” A weak willed threat to hide the fear that guzzled down your windpipes.

The man cared little, as a hoarse and deep laugh roared from his throat. His accessories, likely stolen, dangled with each step, while he approached.

“You’re a yappy little thing arent ya? Could ‘ere you half way to the port.”

“…We’re docked?” The news visibly shocked you, you hadn’t been on the ship for that long, or so you believed. It surely didn’t feel that long. Was there a port near to your kingdom? One you didn’t know about? Or maybe, this cocky pirate had parked on the other side of the island, believing he had time to get away.

“We haven’t even left yet, doll.” You wanted to spit on him. You hoped he understood that he was the muck on your shoe as you stepped past the pig pens.

“Then you are far more foolish and arrogant then I was originally led to believe. The guards will find me any second! I’ll relish in seeing you hauled to guillotines.”

He tutted, a knowing smile that made your skin crawl and throat go dry, as he stepped passed you, slowly. “I wouldn’t be so sure, your highness…”

“We’ve been here for well over a night. No one’s looking for you.”

Those words made you freeze, eyes widening in disbelief at this pirates audacity. Did he believe you an ignorant fool? To boldly tell such lies to your face?

But then…you don’t know how long you’d actually been here. The sick sway in your stomach made it appear like hours. And you had woken up here too. Was the sky the same sky you had seen before you were taken?

It was the same shade of blue and yet…were those the same clouds? Was it greener now? Had you truly been here for hours? Days?? Had no one come to look for you?!

He watched with a sick grin, teeth sunk deep into a deliciously red apple, as he basked in your inner makings crumbling. Personally, he found your resistance cuter then this..look of hopelessness. But this was needed for your eventual cooperation.

And of course he had lied to you. The kingdom was a muck looking for you at the moment. You were just on the side of your little country that few actually were aware of. A safe space tucked beside the cliff side. A pretty spot.

“What do you want.”

Oh? The little doll wanted his attention.

“Hm? Care to elaborate birdie?”

Your bristled visibly at the name, though the deep breath you let out to calm yourself was in its own right commendable. “What is your purpose for stealing me.”

“Saying I stole you, truly makes you sound like you were someone else’s property prior, doesn’t it?”

When you didn’t respond, he sneered, lips pulled into an unpleasant growl as he stepped towards you again, ringed and rough fingers gripping your jaw, sure to leave a bruise.

“Excuse you-!” You nearly gagged when he popped your mouth open, pushing the bitten half of the apple into your mouth like a swine ready to be roasted. Your tongue curled back as far as it could, fearful of touching the flesh of the fruit your captor had eaten from.

His smile returned, in a disturbing satisfaction as his dark green eyes swept across your form.

Had it not been the circumstances. Had it not been for who he was, you’d think his eyes were beautiful. Such a vibrant shade of green, that shines in the golden light. Like sun filtering through spring leaves.

But because of the circumstances, because of who he was, you likened them more to the color of sewage near an old tavern. The color of floating, rotten seaweed that sticks slimely to your skin. Slimey. That was a good word. His eyes were Slimey. As were his hands, his smile.

A degrading tap against your cheek brought you back to the slime before you. You hated that this filth was pretty. You hated that had it been any other circumstance. You might’ve fancied him.

“Rest up now pet, ‘s gonna be a long journey.” He stood with a low grunt, boots echoing against the wooden floor, as his jewels jingled.

“You didn’t answer my question you filth!” Your words were illegible against the apple, as your jaw had been stretched to the max, making it hard for you to spit it out unless you bit down.

The pirate gave little mind to your attempt, simply humming as if he knew what you said irregardless. “You’ll learn in due time birdie. Not try not to cause a ruckus while I’m gone. I’d hate for the dogs to grow nasty.”

And the door slammed behind him, your heart hammering. You didn’t think he meant actual dogs and that’s what made your crawl to farthest corner could, leaning your bound body against the weathered wood.

Your jaw hurt, your wrist hurt. You were tired, emotionally and mentally. And as the weight of the situation sunk in, you felt yourself slump in momentary defeat, eyes fluttering against your cheeks.

Weak, frustrated tears burned behind your lashes.

You prayed for your safety.

You prayed that someone…anyone was looking for you.

But your heart ached, as if it knew a truth you didn’t want to acknowledge.

No one was coming.

On the far side of the kingdom..

A young knight was causing unfathomable chaos.

“Find them! Find them now! If you are withholding information or if any of you pathetic guards are unable to find even a trace of them, your heads will be on the block along with their disgusting captor!”

#yandere #yandere x reader #x oc #x reader #yandere pirate #yandere knight

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intln · 1 month

Text

AT HIS FEET : bully oikawa

nsfw under read more

SKETCH INFO : gn reader, smut, bootriding, bullying, technical voyeurism (oikawa knows issei is there..), kissing, slapping, hair pulling, slight dacryphilia, dom oikawa, oral, consented recording， mentioned power imbalance, petnames ( little crow, slut ), degradation, bully oikawa, facefucking, college au/timeskip

nsfw/end divs by : cafekitsune !!!!

s : he was awful, you didn't even want iwa!

"dont be so.. mean.." You cried on your knees in front of him with your head hung, knowing it would be embarrassing for him to see you. your hands shaking in your lap at every tap of his shoes against the floor. he looked down at you with a soft smile, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. "im being mean? Oh yn, you've got it all wrong!" oikawa laughed, his eyes going back to staring at his phone. you grabbed his knee and raised your head. "i didnt kiss him!" you whined, placing your head on his knees. his hand immediately grasped your hair as he put his phone down, looking down at you as if you had done something wrong. "why not beg for me to believe you?" he said, bending his once straight back to kiss you. "actually, what you can do is ride my shoe!" he smiled, his eyes drifting down to your surprised expression. "You dont have to use your pretty little head for something like this." he whispered, tapping your head. his facial expression changing quicker than you expected it to. "waah.. kawa.. so mean, " you whimpered, tears running down your face as you began to hump his shoe, whining in a mix of pleasure and pain. your hands clutching your shirt while you listened to him talk,

"You're so stupid, it's so cute," he giggled. You could hear the sound of him taking a picture of your tear ridden face. "What if i sent this to the whole school?" he asked, placing his hand on his thigh. "Wait.. please!." You gasped, grinding harder as he shook his foot underneath you. the feeling of his shoe against your barely covered crotch had you reeling. he wanted you to beg for him to touch you. you began to choke on your sobs, "i.. gunna cum, kawa. so close" but he payed no mind to your warning while he untied his shorts, dipping his hand into his underwear. "hold on, stay still ynie" he sighed, you were getting too quiet. "kawa.. " you sniffled, your chest visibly moving as began to cry again "keep crying, slut." oikawa glared, squeezing the fat of your cheeks together. you hiccuped as he stood up "c'mon.. suck me off" he smiled, tapping his cock against your cheek. you stuck your tongue out, giving him access to everything, he placed his hand on your head and pushed you down. the sound of your gagging made him laugh, "everyone is gonna see this.." he said, pulling out and doing it again. you began to cry even more, placing your hands on his thighs, incoherent cries came out of your stuffed mouth as he continued to use you to his liking.

"You.. you're so annoying- uhn.." oikawa moaned, throwing his head back, the hand that was in your hair slapped you softly. "Swirl your tongue, you know what to do." he demanded, annoyed. you wanted him to listen and forgive you, You wanted to cum, he was so mean to you. "Hey! less crying, more sucking." he whined, slapping you harder than before. you closed your eyes and sniffled, trying to do everything he asked you to. he gave up on telling you anything and took it into his hands, fucking your face until you scrambled to get away. "uuhg fuck" You coughed, finally able to breathe. "i tell you this all the time. breathe through your nose!" he slurred, shoving your head back down. as the camera focused, it showcased the tears rolling down your face as you tried to breathe and the way you struggled to suck him off correctly. " you're pathetic. " oikawa grumbled, pushing you away. "i always gotta do the work myself, hum?" he asked, audibly upset. "m' sowwy. i really am, " you sputtered, looking up at him with glossed and fogged over eyes. he threw his phone behind him after he had stopped recording to fuck his own hand. "can't even get proper head.. even mad dog does a better job than you!" he groaned, throwing his head back as he got himself off. his strokes got faster, curses spewing out of his mouth before he painted your face. "ugh, you're beautiful like this, but you aren't good at anything." you shook your head at his mean words, trying to convince him that you weren't useless." i can do somethin i promise, kawa!.." you cried, hands coming up to wipe your tears. "dont touch! let me take a few pictures.. 'kay?" he smirked, watching it drip down your face and onto your chest. He picked his phone back up and took a few close ups of your face, kissing you in the midst of two of them. "see, you're much better when you're quiet like this, like the little mutt you are." oikawa sighed. he picked his shorts up and grabbed his stuff, patting your head. "see ya, slut." he said, walking out of your room, making a dramatic exit. "toru, you bastard.. hic" your breath shook as you wiped your face off, struggling to think. you could still hear him, as quiet as he tried to be, talking to somebody unimportant.

he was too mean, but you liked it.

#haikyuu smut #oikawa tooru #oikawa smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyu smut #tooru oikawa smut #oikawa toru smut

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echoe-back-from-the-void · 6 months

Text

SCREAM - 1996

Part two is in the works!!

Looking down at the offending bloodied blade I grinned sharply.

“Oh, if you wanted to kill me you shouldn’t have missed.” I turn my puppy dog eyes to the man in the ghost face. I grip the blade and pull it out with a soft whine. Lifting my shirt to see the entry wound, “next time don’t miss, baby boy.” I say teasingly, my words obviously have an effect as he stands still with heavy breathing. Clearly startled.

I reach across the counter nearest to me and grab a rag before packing the entry. The killer flinches back at how brutally I’m treating my own body.

“If you came here to kill me because I’m part of her friend group then you clearly have me mistaken.” I look up at him again. “I’m just a punching bag, mr killer.”

When he still gives no reaction I turn away from him and half limp to the living room where I try the phone. “Damn.” I Mutter when I hear the dead line. In response a blade is placed under my throat making me hiss. “Put that thing down I was just trying to order a damn pizza.” Then quieter I mumble, “I get munchies when I patch myself up. And if I don’t eat I’ll just pass out and bleed to death.”

With a sigh I let myself fall to the dusty couch and bend over the side to grab the ever present med kit that I had stashed there. “Are you just gonna stand there and watch or are you going to get me a warm bowl of water?” I order the male, I can tell he’s male from whatever deodorant he’s using. That and his shoes are too big to be female, same with his hands. He’s shocked enough to actually do as I said and returns with a bowl of water. I dip my finger in it and sigh at the warmth.

I shake my head, gotta stay awake. Reaching over I turn on the tv and switch it to the channel playing horror movies. The killer beside me instantly becomes entranced making me bark a laugh. “Horror fan too, my good sir?” I joke and he shakes his head yes. This whole time he hasn’t spoken and maybe it’s the adrenaline or the blood loss but I teasingly say, “cat got your tongue, baby boy?”

“No.” A distorted voice responds.

“Voice modulators in the suit, nice.” I say as I turn my attention back to the open med kit. I struggle to thread the needle but eventually get it. All while the ghost faced killer sits on an opposite arm chair with divided attention between the movie and me. By the credits I have stitched the wound closed. I’m wrapping it in gauze when he finally stands up.

He’s almost nervous like he doesn’t know what to do. He’s holding that bloody knife again and pointing at me. “Don’t tell anyone.”

I throw my head back in a laugh, “who would I tell, baby boy.” At this point I’ve called him that couple times and while most of the jocks at our school would feel threatened. This man seems to almost preen at the words like they’re a compliment.

It’s a week later and I’m visited again. I don’t ask how he got in I just lean against the wall with a soft smile. “Back again, Baby boy?” I realize my mistake when I see his gait. “Not baby boy. So there’s two of you, smart.” I say with a shrug turning to walk back into my living room.

I hear the floorboard behind me creak under pressure and I lean hard left barely avoiding a knife stab. I grab the males arm and lift it up while turning. Pulling his arm to his back and pushing him against the wall with force. I hiss at the pull in my abdomen and press him into the wall harder. “Don’t get pissy or your going to rip my stitches.”

I Take the blade out of his hand and while I’ve taken a visible weapon away I don’t doubt he has more hidden on his person. “I don’t trust you so I’m going to pat you down.” I move one hand around and over his shoulders and then down his back and around his waist. I find another knife and a concealed cellphone that I stuff back in his pocket. The hard part was checking his legs because I couldn’t reach down and still hold his arm up.

So I do something mildly stupid and let his arm go to crouch by his legs. I give another hiss at the stretch but check him thoroughly. When the pat down is done I use the wall to try and get back up but I feel something tear and curse under my breath.

When I’m standing again I let my head rest against the wall with a sigh as sweat is already coating my brow. The second killer had backed away to watch me. I put my hand on the wall and continue to limp my way to the living room. Halfway there I take my bloody shirt off and throw it in the opening of the laundry room.

Being shirtless exposes my thin but muscular frame covered in patchy white scars. I’m really thankful I was wearing my sports bra too or I’d be more concerned taking my shirt off around the serial killer. “Getting undressed for me already sweetheart.” He flirts through the Modulator.

“In your dreams, brat.” I lower myself into the couch with a Hmpf. I reach my hand underneath and blindly search for the medkit like last time. This time I’m thankful I also stashed a bottle of scotch. I take a Long sip of the amber liquor before I even bother to look at the damage.

Two stitches had ripped and began to needlessly bleed. The second ghost face killer comes closer to the couch with interest. Kneeling beside me his dips an ungloved hand in the blood puddling my chest and slips his fingers under his mask. A little bit of the blood catches on the white face and I can just barely make out his chin.

I roll my eyes at his behavior and grab the alcohol to pour over the wound. When the skin is well and numb I smile and take the broken stitches out before restitching them. When I’m done I let my head fall back into the cushions with a sigh.

“You didn’t go to the hospital?”

I quirk a lazy grin. “No, they wouldn’t have helped me anyway. Because I don’t have money to pay them.” I say the words slowly to make my point. “Can I please order a Pizza this time?” My response is silence that I then try to fill. “I already told your partner, I get the munchies when I’m hurt. If I don’t eat I will fall asleep.”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” The man asks through distortion.

“My bloody valentine, next?”

“Why.”

“Um duh, because it was good. I liked the idea of people dying on Valentine’s Day it was a little ironic ya know with the whole death do us part vow.”

The ghost face killer gives a breathy chuckle and begins to run his fingers through my hair. It’s not that bad and I kinda sink into his hand. “Your really not scared, are you?”

“I’m really hungry if that helps?” I tease through a yawn.

Soon I’m falling asleep with a killer stroking my hair. I wake up ten or twenty minutes later to the smell of warm pizza and when I open my eyes there’s a pizza box on my living room table.

I slowly position myself to kneel next to the low table and I open the still warm box of pizza. Cheese pizza <3

Hungrily I dig in to fill my appetite and sway side to side happy.

“Look at that.” A Voice says to my left. I turn and see the same killer as before. His new defining marker being the tinge of red at the bottom of the mask from where he tasted my blood.

“Don’t tease me, brat, I was hungry, I haven’t eaten since…well shoot.” I blink rapidly at the realization. Was it really that long.

“Shoot, What?” Another modulated voice asks. I turn my head with a perky smile. “Baby boy!” Excitedly I wave him over. “Pizza!” I hold up a slice for him and I can tell he rolled his eyes at me. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.” I snuff turning back to my pizza. The second man chuckles.

“She really isn’t scared at all?”

“What? Do you seriously want me whining and crying like some dumb girl in a horror movie?” I lift my lip in a snarl. “Hate when they do that, it does nothing for the movie.” I mumble around a mouthful of pizza.

A silent conversation goes on behind me and then both killers move to opposite ends of the couch and sit down putting their feet on the table in synch. “Cute.” I tease again. “You should really get a slice, boys, before I eat the whole damn thing.”

The one on the left moves to get a slice and I notice it’s the same one with red on the mask. That lets me assume the other is the first one I met.

I reach across the table and there are two electronics barely in arms length. The phone and the remote. I feel brave for some reason and pick up the phone, two bodies tensing behind me. Visibly, so both can see me, I take the batteries out. I then reach for the remote with a giggle. “You boys are way too tense, cops couldn’t catch ya even if I pointed you out, dumb hicks they are. And like hell I’d do that,” I lean back against the couch to see them both. “That lady you guys killed a couple years back had it coming, so did those kids.”

“And what did they deserve, sweetheart.” The one on my left that I had been calling brat said.

“Well you gutted them but I would’ve cut out their tongues and broke their fingers. Casey was a cheater, cheated on my tests and on her boyfriend. Dunno how he’s doing but she was sleeping with the dumb jock while datin Macher.” I dip my lips into a frown. “He didn’t deserve a bad girlfriend, I think he’s dating Tatum, I don’t like her either. She was involved in a hit and run that was never investigated. Suspicious!” I say the last part in a high pitched voice.

The one on the right speaks up this time. “What did miss Prescott deserve?”

My grin dips before realigning. “Bitch had more kids than she had marriages, I know that. But if that’s true then why does little ol Sydney have no siblings in the house.” I pause and the one on the left is the first to catch on.

“You don’t mean?”

“What—that she killed them? No, Miss Prescott had a set of twin girls. I’m Sydney Prescott’s twin, I don’t look it do I?” I reveal to them and both seem startled at the information. “I got put up for adoption and was adopted by my lovely parents.” I stretch the word lovely and rub a scar over my shoulder. They pick up on the message and leave it at that.

“Not that my twins a Saint either. She has a porn blog about herself. All that talk about virginity and not giving it up but she’s got a blog selling her body. Her boyfriend, Loomis, the shit I could tell you about him. Okay so like her mom, my mom. Totally slept with his dad and fucked up the entire marriage. I mean, what a Home-wrecker. If I were Loomis…”

A hand is placed under my chin and my head is turned toward a smiling face. Billy-fucking-Loomis. “You’d do what, Sweetheart?”

“Mother-fucker!” I curse sharply in shock. “No fucking way, I mean it only makes sense. She would’ve been your first kill, then…” I can’t stop the sharp open mouthed smile. “Sydney’s so fucked!” I give a disbelieving laugh. I turn to the other killer with a smile. “If he’s Billy,” I get up and put my knee on the couch to steady myself and take off the other killers mask. “Stu Macher, you son of a gun.” I put my hands on both sides of his face and give him a quick kiss. I turn to Loomis to do the same. Before pulling away I bite his lip drawing blood making him pull back with a hiss.

“What was that for sweetheart?” Billy asks.

“Payback, you had my blood,” I then lick his blood off my lip.

“No hard feelings about the stab?” Stu asks.

“None,” I turn to him with a teasing smile, “you were so cute when you were confused.” I let my eyes drift back to Billy. “He couldn’t kill me so you were sent to finish the job but I’m clearly not dead.” There’s a question somewhere in there and Billy nods running a finger through my hair.

“You’re interesting.”

A month passed and both boys had continued to visit, my stab wound was still aching and I couldn’t move much. I was really thankful I had graduated early because I could not imagine how I would’ve gotten around school with a stab wound. Billy or Stu would drop off after school to see me. Eventually becoming affectionate, I was a little confused at first and asked about their girlfriends. When I did, both boys looked at each other over my head before saying in synch that they dumped them.

I guessed as much when stu couldn’t keep his arms from around me during a scary movie marathon. Billy would give short kisses to my hair while keeping an arm over my shoulders. It was strange at first but I shrugged it off and soaked in the affection with a bleeding heart.

We have been dating for three months and It was hot. My ac had broke again, so I was lounging in my sports bra and free flowing pajama shorts. We were watching a horror movie, Stu had his face buried in my lap facing the movie while I leaned against Billy. Stu moved and rolled to face my stomach and began to bury his nose in my bandages with a sigh.

“Your blood smells so good.” He whined clenching my hips. He began to leave love bites and hickeys along the available skin.

Billy began to take control of my lips and make out. He pressed a hand lightly to my throat when he let up and he too began to mark me up.

I rolled my head back with a sigh, “couldn’t we have finished the movie first?”

“You already know how it ends,” Billy murmured against my skin. Stu chuckled as well, sending vibrations of his voice against my stomach.

“You both suck,” I whined after missing my favorite part.

“And bite,” Stu added with a sharp bite to the skin over my ribs. I held his hair tightly in my fist at the pain he caused. I could feel a drop of blood then running down my stomach which he hungrily licked up. Billy did the same with my collarbone and I hissed.

“Like vampires.” I said sarcastically.

Billy pulled away to smile, my blood staining his teeth. “We were watching Dracula.” He says smartly.

“Then allow me to return the favor?”

Stu nods quickly and sits up in front of me to expose his throat with excitement. I side eye Billy for reference and as much as I can tell, he didn’t hate the idea.

I start by leaving kisses up Stu’s neck until I find where I want to bite and I suck on the spot first giving it a purplish bruise. I lick the spot again and bite down, metallic liquid drips into my mouth. I leave his neck with a few soft kisses to the reddened area. When I pull away his eyes are misty and drunken.

I let my hands softly trace his face and speak softly. “Are you okay, Baby boy?”

“So good.” He whispered back. He leans forward and begins to make out with me, he holds a thumb over my throat and cuts off my air slightly to make me pant. To get back at him I let my cold hands explore under his jumper, nails scratching his skin as I hold his waist.

“Sharing is caring, sweetheart.” Billy says as he tries to get our attention.

“Never watched Care Bears.” Stu jokes under his breath and continues to kiss me. He straddles me and rolls his hips against me for friction. I let one of my hands move from his waist to grip his thigh making him groan through a hiss.

Billy decided to watch while he waits his turn as patiently as a psychotic boyfriend could. It was not very long. Not long at all. He shoves stu away and pushes me down to cover me with his body. “It’s my turn.” He says but both me and Stu can hear the whine he tried to hide.

I reach up to let my hand run though his hair before pulling his neck back. Leaning up I begin to mark his skin like I had done with Stu only more aggressively. Nipping at his Adam apple as I went. “Are you happy, brat?” I question against his throat and he puts pressure on my wound in response.

“Don’t Call me that.” He demands.

I bite again at his throat with an open mouth while one hand moves down from his hair to dig my nails sharply into his shoulder. “Don’t be a brat then.” I say back with a smirk.

“Guys!” Stu whines wanting our attention.

Billy sighs and gets off of me letting Stu again shower my face in kisses. His stubble makes me giggle “Your so pretty.” Stu says in amazement as he hears me.

“No, your pretty, baby boy.” I nip at his ear and his face gains a reddish drunken hue. A combination of the compliments, teasing and calling him Baby boy make him go misty eyed.

More months pass and the end of their school year is fast approaching. “We should finish what we started.” Billy says out of the blue over breakfast. After another bad beating from my parents, Billy and Stu helped move all my belongings to Billy’s cabin. From there we all kinda started living together.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I want to finish what I started. It’s not over yet.”

I hold my spoon pointing it at him, “let me guess, the principal, Tatum. Your not really gonna leave Sydney alive, are you?”

“We could frame her dad. Not that hard.” Stu adds.

“That would be a hit, local father now suspected for the murder of his wife four years prior and the killing of 5 teenagers and the Highschool principle. More tonight at 6.” I add sarcastically making us all share matching grins. With a nod we all disperse from the half eaten breakfast. “I’ll gather the dirt,” I say over my shoulder on the way to our room to change. Before I leave I kiss Stu’s shoulder in passing as he sharpens the blades. I also give a quick Kiss to Billy’s jaw as he holds my coat out to me, it’s actually his, but semantics.

“Be safe.” Stu yells.

“Come home before dark.” Billy adds.

I stand over the principle with a sneer. “Sick bastard, Little Kids, really?” I pull back my leg and kick his nose, hearing it snap brings but little satisfaction.

The boys take care of the body by literally hanging him up by the flag pole. School is canceled and we plot how to get Tatum away from Sidney.

While both boys had finally agreed that Sidney must die, they still wanted her to be the last possible victim.

Tatum is easily killed at a party and it is covered up by police to look like drugs. The reason it was so easy is because it was a ghost face party, literally everyone dressed in the dime store costumes to mock or commemorate the killer.

Slowly I had been releasing dirt on those that were killed, enough dirty secrets and bad decisions that people began to praise the killers.

“We’re like Batman!” Stu said throwing his fist into the air.

“That means your Robin,” Billy teases Stu with a light shove.

“What does that make bunny,” Stu says calling my nickname for me.

“Cat woman?” I ask aloud. Stu agrees and buried his head in my neck, shaking with excitement as he left pecks on my throat.

“Our girl is so smart, and pretty.” Stu gushes before chuckling. Sometimes he got into moods where he couldn’t sit still and would be twitchy when he did move. Usually it was from being over excited. I did like always and began to run my hands through his hair while humming soothingly. He sank into me while pushing me to lay down on the couch. Soon I was laid down with his head barely below where my bust ended while he tried to calm down. “You always treat me so well.” He said full of affection as he rubbed his face into my stomach.

“Where’s my kisses and cuddles?” Billy jokes with little heat to it. I lift my upper body as much as I can and he slides under me. My head resting on his thigh as he leaned against the arm rest. I teasingly bite his thigh through the jeans.

“Is my brat satisfied?” I say and he gives a groan.

“The buttons you push…” he exhales.

Soon it’s time for the final kill. Because I’m the smart one of the three of us; I decided that taunting her was not the best option. It would’ve only felt good for a moment and the more we taunt the more likely she could learn who was the killer. Bad idea.

So while Billy called her, Stu chased her through the house much like what was done with the other murders. But this time I was also there for backup in case my twin got too brave. I had already switched the bullets on the gun in the house so it would be useless. All the knives were thrown into the dryer where she couldn’t find them.

Unfortunately there was a complication as gale was also there at the time. I heard Gales scream and ran to the scene where she was. Quickly I dispatched her by stabbing her through the back of her neck.

Stu was wrestling Sydney on the ground and when he saw my display he gave an audible groan, “that was soo hot Bunny.” He said breathily.

“Focus!” I said back and Sydney looked between us back and forth with confusion.

“Right!” Stu said through the modulator and banged her head against the floor making her black out. Jumping into action we posed the bodies to make a more clear murder. I had stabbed gale a few more times before he fully passed to really sell it.

Sydney was posed in her room, scantily dressed and tied to the headboard with her blood on the walls spelling slut. Her computer was also pulled open to show off her porn site. “Like mother like daughter,” was written on a note I left behind.

The three of us planted the evidence and left before the cops ever arrived. And when they did they found Mr Prescott passed out drunk with a bottle of scotch close to him and covered in blood.

“Billy you should’ve seen it! She fucking stabbed that bitch like it was nothing! I almost came just from seeing it! So so hot!” Stu gushed as he held me in his lap. In between sentences he’d give me feverish kisses and touch me lovingly like something divine.

“Oh I saw, saw everything our sweetheart did. Damn hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Billy said tightening his grip on the steering wheel while speaking huskily. He leaned over to squeeze a hand on my thigh and stroke the inside of it.

“Cmon, it’s not over until it’s on the news. Don’t celebrate yet.” I admonish them both. Then taking the conversation a complete 180 I say, “So what college are we going to?”

A sequel following the Scooby doo movies here

#scream #scream 1996 #billy loomis #stu macher #billy loomis x reader #stu matcher x reader #billy x reader x stu #stab me #fluff

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mncxbe · 13 days

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ihihi a bit unsure if your requests are open (I don't think I've read that they're closed? But it couldve been an oversight on my part iiii dunno) but if they are, could I rq sfw prompt #5 w/ Denji (´▽｀*)?

ok so technically my prompts are closed cuz I don't have that much time to write but it's Denji i can't say no to him😳 i loved writing this hihi hope you like it♡

5– helping you cope with period cramps

"Denji— hurry up please"

Your voice was weak, barely above a pained whine, piercing through the silence of your apartment. The blond shut the entrance door, hastly discarding his shoes in the hallway. "I'm coming right away, Y/N. Hang in there"

You've always warned your boyfriend about how bad your periods could get, but he was lucky enough not to see you at your worst during the few months you've been dating. Well, not until now. When you texted him earlier that day to cancel your date because of your cramps he knew he had to help somehow.

So here he was, stumbling into your bedroom with a handful of boxes of sweets, sodas and a cat plushie. Denji's face dropped when he saw you curled up under the futon, your face scrunched up in pain as you struggled to breathe. "Hey, pretty, how are you?" he asked softly, placing the gifts he carried on the mattress next to you– chocolate truffles, biscuits dipped in vanilla cream, soft cookies, canned cake and cherry flavoured fizzy drinks.

"I didn't know what would help so I got all your favourites" he smiled shyly, pushing the pile of treats closer to you "And I hope you like the cat. The label says it's called Pusheen so... it was pretty cute. I thought you could hold it when you sleep when I'm not here."

God, he was so sweet. Although you've been dating for a while now, Denji was still nervous around you. He wanted everything to be perfect, more than anything, he wanted you to be happy and well; and knowing that there was no actual way for him to magically cure your cramps left him helpless. He babbled on and on about making you tea, running you a hot bath– should you even take a bath? he offered to go and buy more sweets, or maybe give you a massage? It could help. You felt your heart swell at his heartfelt words.

Reaching a hand out towards him, you ran your thumb over his thig, making Denji visibly tense up under your touch. His brown eyes peered down at you "Just come cuddle me, okay?" you smiled and he complied. The air in the room felt cold against your skin as he lifted the blanket and nestled himself next to you. You moved closer to him, hooking your leg over his thigh to pull yourself flush against him and Denji hugged your waist. His deft fingers slipped past the hem of your tshirt and rested on your lower back. Your skin felt warm, almost feverish as he started massaging your back. "Is this okay?" he hummed contently and you nodded, letting out a deep exhale.

The newfound closeness managed to soothe your pain a little– the comfort of his embrace, his warmth, that sweet, syrupy scent of his made it all better. Hell, you were oddly grateful your cramps were so bad this month. If they weren't, you wouldn't get to hold him like this. Lifting your head up from the crook of his neck, you trailed your lips along his jaw before pressing a quick kiss to the corner of his lips. Your boyfriend pouted, totally unsatisfied with the halfass kiss he got and you couldn't hold in your laughter. Sweet, he was so sweet.

So you kissed him again, your lips lingering above his as a content smile etched itself on your features "Thank you, Denji. It's perfect" And it was. He was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for.

#𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑#chainsaw man #csm #csm x reader #denji my beloved #csm denji #chainsaw man denji #denji x reader #chainsaw man x reader #denji #csm fluff

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thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai · 1 year

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YOI meta: How episode 7 lays bare Viktor's strong compassion and his struggles with putting himself in someone else's shoes

Of all the events in episode 7, the kiss and the fight in the underground parking get most of the attention, but how often do we discuss the deep care Viktor exhibits for Yuuri in this episode and the difficulties he faces in the process?

Having learned the general aspects of supporting an athlete in competition in episode 5 (I discussed this at length here), Viktor now pays more attention to Yuuri's mood and actively supports him. However, there's a striking discrepancy between his compassion and his clumsy attempts to help Yuuri. Viktor has no prior experience with coaching, and he's not familiar with anxiety either, wherefore some difficulties are to be expected. However, his trial-and-error-informed handling of the situation implies general struggles with putting himself in someone else's shoes.

Let's go through this from the start:

Seeing Yuuri nervous and overtired the morning before the free skating worries Viktor. However, he neither understands Yuuri's feelings nor does he have a clue about what Yuuri is thinking. He thus resorts to his own experience to solve the problem: taking a nap. Note that, whereas this enables Yuuri to catch up on some sleep, it doesn't solve the underlying cause of his anxiety.

However, Viktor underestimates Yuuri's anxiety which renders his effort ineffective. At the warm-up, Yuuri is less than one hour away from his free skating, and his anxiety is getting worse. This forces Viktor to take more drastic action, for which he relies on past observations of Yuuri.

As a coach, Viktor has to weigh the risk of a panicky Yuuri messing up against a calmer but less prepared Yuuri messing up. Yuuri has reached a point where forbidding him to jump during the warm-up is worth a try despite the risk of sending him into the free skating poorly prepared. It's a very savage solution, though. Not that Viktor canonically is savage at times, but in a sport that heavily relies on muscle memory, this instruction borders recklessness. I wonder what Yakov would say to this.

Using observations, past experiences, and logic to empathise with and support someone is a common workaround for people with poor cognitive empathy. Viktor does this a lot, especially in this episode. His low cognitive empathy is also the reason for his canonical bluntness.

In my experience, this workaround leads to mixed results as observation and reason can only compensate for so much. The good news is that it becomes more effective with experience, even more so when one is aware of their issues with perspective-taking. Viktor is only 27 and he's smart and committed; he can totally improve this skill in the future.

Please note that struggling with cognitive empathy doesn't make someone a bad person. There are several empathy types which work together but manifest differently in people depending on personality/neurotype. The emotional empathy, which enables a person to share someone's emotional experience, is not affected by this. In Viktor's case, it works pretty normal as I will detail in the following.

Viktor has learned that a lecture is inappropriate when Yuuri disobeys his instructions (and it doesn't stop Yuuri from disobeying again). As Yuuri is visibly distraught, he thus tries to comfort Yuuri using another method common for poor cognitive empathy: He uses facts and makes it sound as if it's not a big deal. Spoiler: for someone with anxiety, it is.

While facts work great as a great reality check and are more effective than flowers of speech, Yuuri is already too far gone to feel comforted. Facts and logic only work in the early stages of an anxiety episode. From Yuuri's perspective, Viktor's cheerful tone suggests he doesn't take the situation seriously, even though quite the contrary is true. As a result, Yuuri sees his feelings dismissed and withdraws into himself as he spirals into a panic attack.

This image speaks volumes of the isolation Yuuri experiences in his anxiety as well as Viktor's compassion and lack of understanding as he turns away from the camera. This boy is deeply worried but has no fucking clue how to handle the situation as it's uncharted territory. As the free skating progresses, Viktor is under increasing pressure to get Yuuri into a headspace that allows him to skate clean. Again, he relies on logic to solve the situation. However, while removing Yuuri from the anxiety-inducing situation is helpful, it doesn't eliminate the source of his distress.

In Yuri!!!, characterisation is often narrated through minor characters. While Chris's lines express bitterness about losing Viktor as a rival, they also reveal Viktor's change from being 100% devoted to the ice to 100% devoted to Yuuri. And you can see how much he cares for Yuuri on his face.

However, Viktor's efforts continue to be ineffective, which at this point is no longer surprising. So, in the following, we see more clumsy attempts at calming Yuuri in the following:

This entire episode is a textbook example of Viktor gloriously failing at taking Yuuri's perspective. As the situation escalates and Viktor fails to reach Yuuri, he finally starts to analyse Yuuri's distress.

While Yuuri's anxiety dominates the plot, the depth of Viktor's care and compassion is told through small details like expressions and gestures like the tenderness with which he holds Yuuri's face as he covers his ears. Even more so than the scene in the mixed zone, this frame perfectly captures the discrepancy between Viktor's emotional and cognitive empathy.

With Yuuri's free skating approaching rapidly, the pressure to solve the situation is on Viktor, and the inevitable happens: he messes up completely.

I cannot stress enough how much Viktor sucks at perspective-taking. It's already hard for most people to understand anxiety disorder if they haven't experienced it themselves. But Viktor having such a hard time with perspective-taking is a general issue, and it runs like a thread through the entire series. One cannot overcome this by just trying hard enough as it's cause by a differently wired brain.

And so, here in the underground car park, Viktor's inability to put himself into Yuuri's shoes reaches a dramatic climax as he threatens Yuuri with resigning as his coach as a last resort.

While cutting into someone's panic attack by directing their anxiety at something else appears to be an effective emergency exit, it's one of the worst things you can do to a person with anxiety disorder as it creates a new demon in their head. Don't. Do. This. Ever. Yuuri might go into the free skating relieved, but he will agonise over Viktor returning to his home country throughout the next two episodes. As I said above, anxiety defies reason. (I'll write more about how Yuuri's anxiety works in another meta-post.)

Right here, it drives them even further apart, as represented by their physical distance.

Viktor could not be any farther away from understanding Yuuri. He has not a fucking clue what he's doing. He's just trying out what comes to his mind, and it backfires.

Ahh, I love him to pieces but I want to slap some sense into him! I solemnly swear that from now on, every time I agonise over my poor social skills, I will think of how Viktor fucked up in the underground parking and Yuuri forgave him.

Ironically, Viktor's trial & error approach finally succeeds. As Yuuri starts to cry, the underlying cause of his fear is finally unveiled.

Asking Yuuri right away would have avoided this escalation, but that's not how Viktor's brain operates. At least he is aware of his issues to somewhat extent.

To calm Yuuri, he comes up with something I guess is another default that worked in the past:

Nope. This is not how you introduce the subject to your boyfriend, Viktor! Not when he's upset. You could have just given him a hug, but the idea doesn't even cross your mind even though you seem to be a hugger by nature.

On the other hand, Yuuri didn't communicate his needs unprompted, but communication is key. You cannot expect a person with poor cognitive empathy to magically anticipate your needs and read your mind. It just doesn't work that way.

Unfortunately, the Stammi Vicino reference is lost in the Crunchyroll subs, but that's what Yuuri says to make Viktor understand.

Note how close they are again, while people in the corridor are blurred. The creators did an amazing job at letting images speak for the characters.

I doubt asking Yakov would have helped. Not only because Yakov would have used the situation to dismiss Viktor once more as a coach but because Yakov's method is unsuitable for a student suffering from anxiety. However, as Yakov is one of Viktor's to-go-to defaults, he naturally considers the option.

Imagine this scene but with Yuuri. Just nope.

Now back to the aftermath of Viktor messing up and saving Yuuri from going into his free skating with a panic attack by accident rather than design. While Yuuri is relieved of his anxiety, the situation is still awkward as he and Viktor had no time to make up or process the fight.

This small gesture of reassurance is so important as it gives them both closure that enables them to enjoy the free skating. I regard the tissue as a token of peace (I mean it even contains his DNA).

Ultimately, Viktor's trial & error approach to calming Yuuri succeeds. Yuuri, albeit rightfully annoyed, understands the intention and recognises Viktor's affection and compassion in his clumsy attempts to support him, which culminates in him reciprocating his affection by jumping Viktor's signature move.

Does low cognitive empathy make Viktor a bad coach? Certainly not. Viktor is very passionate about the task and his high emotional empathy and his natural drive to support Yuuri with all his heart speak for themselves. Like everyone, he needs to grow into his role and make it work for him. In Yuuri, he has someone who calls him out on his bullshit gives him immediate feedback he can use to improve.

Episode 7 is a major learning experience for Viktor in understanding Yuuri and supporting him in a distressing situation. And as Yuuri can see beyond Viktor's flaws, it brings them closer together.

A side note on harmful mischaracterisation

High/normal emotional but low cognitive empathy is a trait of autism albeit not necessarily limited to it, which is one of the reasons many autistic fans of Yuri!!! including me identify with Viktor. (I have a theory that the creators accidentally gave him a bunch of autistic traits when they applied the socially awkward genius trope, which generates autistic-coded characters per default. I discussed these traits and why autism is a valid interpretation in response to another post that brought up the subject.)

Whether or not Viktor is autistic, his struggles with perspective-taking are so obvious I consider them canon. I suspect this spurred fan theories from Viktor having ulterior motives for becoming Yuuri's coach to labelling him as downright evil. It explains takes like "Viktor became Yuuri's coach because he was bored and doesn't care about coaching at all until some arbitrary point mid-season where he suddenly falls in love with Yuuri". While I believe that everyone is entitled to their own headcanon and can change characters for their fics in whatever way they like, labelling his behaviour as uncaring, ill-intent or assuming a hidden agenda and calling it canon or at least a valid interpretation not only mischaracterises Viktor but hurts and demonises autistics and other people dealing with this issue. So please for the love of god and the YOI creators keep that in mind!

If you enjoy my meta posts, please consider giving my blog a follow or checking out my works on AO3(link in bio). You will find the results of my meta musings in there!

#yuri on ice #yoi meta #my yoi meta #yuri on ice meta #viktor nikirofov #katsuki yuuri #figure skating #anime #cognitive empathy #emotional empathy #character analysis #psychology #autism #sorry for bringing autistic activism into this but as an autistic this kind of mischaracterisation makes me furious #I worked on this post for more than a week I hope it's not gibberish

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arkturusz · 1 month

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@cult-of-the-eye here it is, hope you like it :3

MAG[REDACTED] - Blood in the Machine

Anonymous statement, regarding the statement maker's purchase and use of a strange desktop computer. Original statement given 4th of February 2024, recording by Arcturus Walker, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, Budapest. Put to tape on the 21st of March 2024. Statement begins:

I don't want to go into details as to why I came to make this decision. It was an offer too good to be true, just what a struggling university student needed: a cheap PC with great specs and with only 2 years of usage. I know how some sellers put enticing prices on Facebook Marketplace just to drop the real deal in later messages, but that wasn't the case. The owner got his hands on "something better" and saw no use in keeping this one around so he asked for the bare minimum that would still be a deal to him.

I went to pick up the desktop, it was a city away so I drove there. It was a bit weird how creeping closer to the destination all we had were dirt roads. I live in the suburbs, I know not all city councils pay it enough attention, but these weren't those dusty solid roads. These were muddy, the tracks barely visible and overgrown with grass. No, not grass, something more- vibrant.

The roads branched off a few hundred meters from my destination, only one going in its general direction so I followed it. I reached a house, no buildings in its neighborhood, crop fields on one side, a small forest on the other, the kind that always seems way more moist than the weather would allow it and always has that smell of thick mud and insects. I could only *enjoy* that for a moment before I got hit with something else, something fleshier. It was a stench that burnt into my nostrils. I try not to judge a house by the smell, my parents were chainsmokers and I've always been more ashamed to bring friends home than it seemed they were bothered by the odor. Assuming I just met a butcher, or really just someone that keeps their own livestock I headed inside.

It felt like a hallucination, it really did. I stepped into a corridor, my lungs full of the dull yet powerful stench that covered everything. My brain felt foggy and with a headache that felt like pressure on my skull I continued inside. I was hoping to pick up the computer and get going right away, and I did my best to accomplish just that. I lifted the PC which was rather heavy and hurried back the way I came when something caught my attention. As I was putting my shoes on my brain alerted me of movement. From all around. The walls seemed to have this rhythmic pulse to them. If I wasn't at the doorstep I would've fainted, that's for sure, but I made it out to my car, telling myself it's the headache getting to me.

The drive back was nothing out of the ordinary, but that foul smell just wouldn't leave my nose. I parked, opened my boot and to no surprise the aroma oozed out of the case like a thick invisible fog, bringing back that numbing pressure that I felt earlier. I grabbed all the cleaning chemicals and similar that I could find lying around, giving it a thorough rub on the outside. I pride myself on my expertise in software, but the hardware always confused me and I never bothered to learn it. Thus I did not want to open it up, which proved to be a grave mistake.

For 6 months straight there seemed to have been no problem with the PC. It worked as intended, was just as fast as I expected and the smell was only noticeable if you got up close to sniff the case. Which I didn't. But two days ago I didn't need to either. I woke up to a strange smell. It wasn't as strong or numbing as the one I felt at the house but it certainly wasn't pleasant. We had maintenance that night, we were notified that from 10pm we should be expecting a blackout. I didn't mind, but it seemed that whatever was in my computer did not like it. I decided to give it another round of cleaning once I was done with my cup of coffee. I dressed up and went to pull out the cables on the back, but they were a lot harder to unplug than I remembered. I ripped out the one which was most limiting length-wise and I pulled the rest of the case out from under my desk. As I saw the back of the PC I had to stop myself from throwing up.

Now I'm not afraid of gore, I grew up in a generation (and the subcultures) that made it such a commonplace it's usually unamusing. On screen, at least. But I didn't expect to come face to face with a chunk of skin stretching across where my plugs should have been. The cable I ripped out laid on the floor, a dark red liquid dripping from it, staining my carpet. Same thing could be found on the back of the case. Turns out the cable wasn't just stuck, it was *integrated* into the fleshy mess that shouldn't have been there.

That's when I got a screwdriver and ripped the case open. It seemed like the only logical way to deal with whatever infested my computer and I didn't know what else I could do. The case came away like a sticker, the inside melted to a wall of human-like skin, peeling away it left a residue of perspiration on the plastic.

The flesh monster's skin seemed to have formed a block, covering its insides from all angles, pressing against the vents and pushing out through the outlets. The cord I ripped had left a nasty hole that started to scar up, but I wanted to see what I was up against and I *didn't let it*. I scraped away the scar tissue with the screwdriver and pushed it through the wound, detaching the vein that supplied my cable from the wall of skin. The case still hugging it from the outside cast a shadow that made it hard for me to see in, so I turned on my flashlight, stretching at the hole with my tool, trying to take a peek.

I saw veins running across the surface, the inside was humid and *warm*, at least warmer than room temperature but it wasn't the heat of a working human body. It was starting to cool. In the middle of the case I saw something heavy, a huge knot in the middle of the circulatory system which kept beating in a steady rhythm. It was slow, the pulse was invisible from the outside, yet it kept pushing blood through the opening, trying to close it up, but the scarring slowed down significantly from when I first ripped that cable out. It ran on electricity, it had to have been the case, the inside had a greenish tone from what I could make out, meaning that during the blackout it started rotting. The system that somehow ran like a normal computer for months started to decay, which reminded me of the smell my brain ignored from my initial shock that once again sat heavy in my lungs.

I did not reconnect it but I didn't know what to do with it either. Who would have I called? I scoured the internet to find your institute, and I left my PC to you. Past making this statement I wish not to associate myself with this case any longer.

Statement ends. First thing after reading this statement I went down to artifact storage to ask about this curio. Turns out whoever left it to us delivered it too late, the "heart" was not beating and the thing once stretched against the walls of it's case now sat collapsed and rotten in the organic section, making any other follow-up almost impossible. Looking for the flesh house also yielded no results, meaning I will put this case to rest as-is. What does keep me wondering are the intentions of the seller. Why would an avatar of the Flesh sell a piece of itself to an unsuspecting individual? There was no mention of the *flesh block* attempting to leave its case meaning there was no intention of spreading the system either. Maybe they didn't intend the buyer to possess it for so long, maybe they tried to alert us of their vicinity. But they failed. They left us with a cold trail. *sigh* Recording ends

This is episode one of my series I call MAGREDACTED, here are all the episodes out now:

The Vast The Stranger The Dark

New episodes will be posted over on @archivus !

#tma #tma fanart #MAGREDACTED #originals #tma fanepisode #the flesh #writing #jon sims

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timefospookies · 7 days

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“Chuuuuuyaaaaa!”

That grating voice…

“Dazai?!”

The skinny man gave the redhead a friendly wave from the couch- which he was comfortably sprawled out on with a wine glass in hand, and the TV on to a barely audible volume.

“Welcome home!”

“How the hell did you get in here?”

“Broke in.”

Chuuya stared for a few seconds, contemplating the scene with an air of resignation.

“I shoulda known,” he sighed, giving in.

He was too damn tired to even get angry. He’d been working his ass off for weeks on end and now that he finally had time to go home, he wasn’t planning on wasting that time on this idiot. So he continued on his way, closing the door behind him, removing his shoes, and placing his coat and hat on the hanger by the door. He stretched out with a groan as he walked past the couch towards the kitchen, sensing Dazai’s hazel eyes lazily tracing his every move. The brunette swirled the wine in his glass and took another sip.

“That better not be one of my good wines!” Chuuya yelled over his shoulder.

“Ha! As if!” Dazai shouted back, “Wouldn’t be caught dead downing one of your stupid snobby wines. Talk about embarrassing!”

The redhead felt his ears heat up as he twitched in visible annoyance. He scoffed as he eventually shuffled back to the couch with a bottle of wine and another glass in hand.

“Oh, shut up! You know what’s really embarrassing? Thinking that cheap sake actually tastes good!”

“It does,” the man retaliated blankly.

“Yeah, if you like the taste of piss! Now, move your ass!”

Chuuya roughly shoved Dazai to the side in an attempt to slip into the couch.

“Wha-hey! Ow?! Go sit on the other side, it’s literally completely empty!” he cried.

“It’s my damn couch, I get to decide where I wanna sit!”

“Oh my godddd, Chuuya’s so childish,”

“Chuuya’s gonna kick you out of his fucking house if you don’t move!”

Dazai scoffed, rolling his eyes, but regardless he ceded a bit of his space to him.

After an extended physical struggle, the two settled into a comfortable enough position in which neither would complain- leaning against each other, practically shoulder to shoulder; Chuuya’s foot dangling off the arm of the couch, and his own arm rested around the couch’s back; Dazai with his legs clutched to his chest, and head rested on Chuuya’s shoulder. Their wine glasses had been abandoned at the foot of the couch. As the movie on the TV droned on, the redhead felt his eyelids grow incredibly heavy. He had to make an active effort to keep his head from falling forward, as the sudden weight it gained was far too much for him to handle. He sighed, and he sighed again, and again.

“Long day?”

“Hah,” he sneered, “Try month.”

“They’re working you to the bone, huh?”

In response, Chuuya sighed once more.

“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that,” the other chuckled. “Sucks to be you.”

“Yeah, that’s real helpful, asshole.”

Dazai shifted, peeling himself away from Chuuya and adjusting their position to bring the shorter man closer to his chest.

“Mmm,” he murmured, running soft slender fingers through the mafioso’s hair “My poor, poor slug...”

He scratched gently at his scalp and Chuuya couldn’t help but give a content hum as he allowed himself to melt into the man’s chest, and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Jus’…gonna lay here a sec…” he mumbled as he slowly drifted off.

His eyes fluttered shut and soon he was snoring softly into Dazai’s chest, to which the man could only smirk. It was endearing. The warmth of the moment. The comfort. Dazai wrapped his own arms around Chuuya’s body and settled into a more comfortable laying position, so that as he fixated on his lover’s steady breathing, he too could drift into peaceful slumber.

#Chuuya is tired™️#dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #skk #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo gay dogs #bsd skk #soukoku #soukouku #spooky talk #skk fanfic

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tht0nesimp · 8 months

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Cold- Yan!Feitan

tw: Mentions of torture, feitan is a warning in himself, you really like peaches

This wasn’t fair. But then again, life isn’t fair? Is it? You questioned for the millionth time as your arms laid limp in the metal chains holding them just a bit too far up to the ceiling to be comfortable

When you’d first gotten here, prayers and promises were all that could pass through your already fragile mind struggling to believe that this experience is truly real. But alas, no matter how hard you screamed, pinched, or cried, the reality of your Situation never changed

you were still hanging by your wrists just barely above the cold concrete floor instead of being on your couch listening to music or poems or sleeping, doing anything that Didn’t cause as much pain, Albeit the only thing that kept you from thinking this was the worst possible outcome was the bloody screams coming faintly from the other side of the small area you were in, the only thing keeping you from the rest of the concrete basement was a few thick dividers somewhat resembling what you would see dividing patients at a hospital

there was a small cot next to you with a thin blanket on it, worn out and as much as you would love to lay down on it, it looks like it’s barely 10 pounds from falling in on itself. The only other thing with you in this small corner of the-Barely-closed off room was a rusted sink covered in all sorts of liquids as well as unidentifiable stains

He rarely talked to you, he either came to hurt you to watch you (Sometimes the latter), More than likely a cruel tactic to break down your “tough” psyche which hadn’t quite crumbled down on itself yet. He was asking someone questions, the screams were somewhat faint to your delight as it Meant you wouldn’t have to hear the man plead for his life today

The noises eventually come to a stop, And footsteps slowly make stop infront of the divider. His shoes visible for a moment before the divider moves and suddenly your body hits the freezing grey floor

“Up.” He speaks with slight annoyance, adrenaline seemed to let your tired legs shakily stand. “Hm” he stared at the cot and held his hand out for a moment, doing something you couldn’t see, “Lay down” he points to the cot and seems rather pleased that you wearily lay on it

It doesn’t collapse but it creaks “I’ll get a new one tomorrow” his monotone voice barely reaches you “Thank you” the feeling of laying down even if it was just with a thin blanket was refreshing beyond belief. “Don’t try anything, or you’ll get to see first hand what happens” He warns

“Yes sir” the words come out dry from days without water or food “It’s feitan” he moves the divider quickly and suddenly hes gone. It takes a few hours for you to even be able to get up and stretch your legs, you approach the old sink attached to the wall at the bottom of the cot-The thought would have made you sick before this last week or so but it barely even made your mind in the desperate mood you were in

you put your hand under the weak stream of water trickling from the leaky faucet, taking a gulp of the cold water was pure bliss. After a few more rabid gulps you were able to turn off the sink before sitting back down on the cot

you were so focused on the water that you neglected to realize feitan stood behind you, watching the animalistic behavior with a surprised look hiding behind his cowl. You immediately look down in slight shame, mixed with fear of how he might react

“hmm, thirsty, huh?” He teased while looking at the sink for a moment “Uh…yeah” your voice comes out weaker than you hoped it would “I might replace the sink eventually” if you were delusional than you might have actually believed him

You spared him your seeming belief in the form of a thin smile, your mind much more worried about how your going to get out of this hellhole. Feitan stared for what felt like an eternity before he walks away once more into the surrounding room- The only difference was that the divider was not returned to its closed off form and instead is open

You clumsily stumbled out, Looking around the rest of the room, There was someone shaking in the corner as if they were freezing but you ran past them and towards the wooden steps that creaked when you ran up them to reach the upstairs of his house. Your greeted by feitan sitting at a table next to a small kitchen, on the other side of the table is a living room with a small old couch sitting facing a small TV

“Brave one…” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear from the top step, the dusty glass goor closed behind you as your feet meet the near freezing wooden floors of the dining room. “Sit, Hungry?” He calmly asks with a slight hint of pity at seeing your shaky steps towards the chair across from him

“Yeah…” you look down at your lap but it just makes him chuckle and get up, placing a peach in front of you with surprising gentleness. “Thank you” it takes all of your effort not to immediately sink your teeth into the soft fruit in-front of you until he sits down across from you, the little self control you managed to uphold tore to pieces when you looked down at the fruit again

It wasn’t peach season, but the thought barely crossed your mind as the fruit was gone in mere seconds. Feitan laughed at the once more ravenous behavior in a way that made your cheeks light up pink from shame

“Your as pink as the peach was” he mumbles before throwing the pit in the trash without even looking, watching the slight amazement on your face with pride.

He propped his elbows up on the table and held his head in his hand “I’m gonna ask you questions, your gonna answer honestly” out of some small confidence you had the curiosity to ask “If I don’t?” feitan sighs and his eyes narrow at you

“then you can say goodbye to the cot, for a long,long, time”

#Yandere feitan #brainrot #yandere male #Yandere hxh #Yandere Hunterxhunter #fandom #Hxh brainrot #Yandere HxH blog #yandere blog #yandere scenarios #I kinda like it #CandiesActualFics #Yan!

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lis-likes-fics · 1 year

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Beautiful

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 2k words Warnings: Angst, scars, problems with body image, crying, idk what else... A/N: I just really love this idea, so I decided to write it. Got me feeling all sad, too. Enjoy!

The smell of coffee is rich as you pour yourself a cup. You set the pot back down when the coffee fills up, turning on your heel toward the slim hallway where the bedroom is.

You open the door, stepping in with a smile. "Hey, Eds. Do you–"

You pause as your eyes fall on his bare back. His topless body reveals silvery ridges decorating the skin along his waist, rugged and scarred. Eddie turns around quickly, looking at you over his shoulder as a flash of panic sweeps behind his eyes.

"Oh–" he startles, pulling his shirt quickly over his head, tugging it down his sides forcefully to ensure he's properly covered. He turns back toward you, shuffling nervously but trying to cover it up with a forced smile. "Sorry," he sighs.

Your eyes stray back down to where you had just seen the scars on his skin. They linger there, as if you can see through his clothing. Your shoulders drop, and Eddie watches as your expression shifts to one he can't quite decipher.

Eddie visibly shrinks under your scrutiny, playing with his rings to distract himself as he glances between your shoes and his own, only momentarily meeting your gaze. His cheeks are pink, slightly flushed from the embarrassment of his scars being revealed.

"'M sorry," he says again, mostly as a murmur of words now. "You shouldn't have seen that."

"Wh…" you don't finish the word, finally looking up at him with sad eyes. "Why are you apologizing?" You take a step closer, raising a hand to beckon him closer. He doesn't move.

"You weren’t supposed to see those," he repeats, shaking his head. His bedhead shifts with the movement.

You tilt your head to the side, a very slight movement out of the corner of his eyes as he refuses to look at you. His eyes dart everywhere but yours, unease settling into his skin like the scars disrupting a flowery tattoo above his hip, hidden from prying eyes.

"Well… Why not?" You shift where you stand, just as he does.

It takes Eddie a moment to respond. When he does, it's with a quick shake of his head as he replaces his smile. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it," he insists, forcing himself to look at you and hoping you ignore the rose of his cheeks. "It's nothing."

His smile breaks your heart in two. It's nothing like the bright grin you're used to adoring, the wide stretch of his lips that squints his eyes and encourages smile lines along his face. This smile doesn't reach his eyes. Just the twinkle of a star, rather than the shine of the sun.

Your frown deepens, "I…" You struggle to find words. "Oh, baby." You walk over to him, your heart aching at the tiny step he takes to keep you separate. You stand in front of him anyway, slowly bringing a hand up to rest against his chest.

Eddie raises his own hand, bringing it to cover yours with his large smile. You press your other hand there, as well, and he follows suit. He blinks slowly at you, willing his smile to stay plastered to his lips so as to not worry you. He shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak and taking a tiny step closer. The sound takes a moment to come out, as if his own body is rejecting his words as a lie. "It's nothing," he tries, almost a whisper now.

"It didn't look like nothing," you tell him, watching him closely as his expression shifts. "What happened?"

Again, he just shakes his head like the scars will disappear if he neglects their existence enough. "Nothing," he insists. "I– I'd say otherwise, but it's nothing. Don't worry about it, babe." He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours and pulling you into a kiss meant for reassurance. He pulls back and smiles at you again. It looks like he might cry. "See? Nothing." You don't miss the way he swallows hard around a lump in his throat.

You don't break your gaze from his as you slowly slide your hands from his chest, over to his sides until you find his hips. He flinches and grabs your wrists, pulling them away again and holding them there. His eyes stayed closed, screwed shut to avoid looking at you once more.

You feel the tingle in your fingertips. A warmth spreads through your palm as the pressure squeezes around your wrists. You whimper slightly at the pain that blooms from where he grips you, "Eddie, you're hurting me."

Eddie opens his eyes and lets go of you quickly, covering his mouth with one hand. "Shit, I'm sorry," he breathes, stepping away from you as you bring your hands to your chest, rubbing where he'd held you. Eddie lets out a huff, running his hands through his hair and shaking his head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that, just freaked me out a little. I'm sorry."

You cup the sides of his neck, bringing him close to press your forehead to his. "Sweetheart, it's okay," you whisper to him, trying to calm his racing heart. "S'okay."

Silence settles between you. You open your eyes again, stroking the side of his face as he wills himself not to touch you again. You sigh gently, peeking up at him gently. "Can I see them?" you whisper.

He shakes his head, breathing a long sigh before speaking. "You don't want to."

"Why not?" you ask, brushing your knuckles over the apple of his cheek.

"I don't want you to."

"Why not?" It tears your heart in two to see him so insecure about these scars. You want to kiss him better, to tell him that everything's okay, but you have a feeling he won't believe you, and that hurts.

He hesitates again, shaking his head and forcing a laugh. "It's just a scratch," he swears. "Nothing to worry about."

"I just wanna see 'em," you say, cautiously bringing your hands to the hem of his shirt and twirling the material around your fingers.

"Sweetheart," he sighs, closing his eyes once more at your insistence.

You begin to lift his shirt slightly, "Can I just–"

"No!"

You stop short, flinching slightly at his tone of voice. It's your fault, you shouldn't push so much when he clearly doesn't want to share this burden with you. You go quiet, looking down at your feet and taking a step back.

Eddie wilts immediately, bowing his head. "Fuck, I'm sorry," he murmurs. He steps forward again, wrapping his arms around you as he supports the back of your head with a large hand. He pulls you close, burying his face in the crook of your neck and nuzzling there. He swallows thickly, upset with himself about his outburst.

"I'm sorry. I just don't want you to see them." He goes quiet for a moment, carding his fingers through your hair. "They're not pretty."

You pull back from him, cupping his face once more. Your thumbs stroke his cheeks, your foreheads touch. "You're beautiful," you promise.

He shakes his head. "You won't think so after."

"Eddie."

When he speaks again, it's barely audible, but his voice is filled with a sorrow that weighs thick in the air. He shakes his head, his hands grabbing a fistful of the sides of your shirts to pull you closer.

"I don't want you to leave me."

You think you might cry. You take a step back and cradle his face, making him look at you. The gloss of his eyes makes your heart ache. You've never seen him like this, so vulnerable and passive. He tries to hide his face from you once more, but you don't let him.

"I'd never leave you," you promise, kissing all over his face and stroking his cheeks. "I couldn't. Especially not for some scars."

"I just–" Eddie huffs, stepping out of your arms and turning his back on you. He hangs his head and hides, shaking his messy hair out with a level of disgust that makes his body tremble.

"Jesus, I hate them so fucking much." You whisper his name, stepping around him so you're pulling him back into your arms. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and muffles his words into your skin. He holds you like he's afraid you'll disappear. He sniffles, and you can hear the shudder of his voice as his emotions get caught in his throat. "I don't want you to see them and then decide you don't want to be with me anymore because of it."

"Oh, Eddie…" You can't keep your own tears from choking you up as you run your fingers through his tangled hair. "There is nothing in any world that could ever make me leave you, Eddie Munson." You pull him away, searching out his eyes and making him look at you. "I love all of you. I will always love all of you. No matter what."

You lean forward on your toes, bringing him to your lips to kiss him. It's slow and soft, and Eddie sighs into you as his body relaxes in your hold. When you pull back, he chases your lips.

Your thumbs graze the skin along his cheeks, smoothing under his eyes as you offer a smile to him. "Can I just see 'em?"

Slowly, he nods. He reluctantly pulls out of your embrace and takes a breath to brace himself as he lifts his shirt for you to see.

They're much clearer now. You take in the sight of his scars. Some are silvery, others are shades of pink. The ridges and grooves stretch over the expanse of his skin. The flower tattoo that hides under his shirt is disfigured, a distorted sketch that you can’t make out well.

You have never seen his scars before. You hardly even knew they were there. You only had hints here and there that let you know that something was there. Eddie has always been self-conscious since you got together. He’s always covered up, and when he’s not, it’s too dark for you to make out the peculiar flesh.

You reach your fingers out, just barely brushing his waist. Eddie sucks his tummy in and takes a sharp breath, more startled than pained. You apologize gently before your fingertips kiss his skin again. Your eyes meet his as you flatten your palm against his sides. You hold them there, swiping your fingers slowly along his skin to soothe his nerves.

Eddie melts against your touch, calming considerably as he closes his eyes to feel you. You step forward again, hands still on his bare skin as your feet nudge one another at the proximity. “What happened to you?” you ask, breathy and soft.

Eddie opens his eyes to see you again, offering a smile. This one is a little more genuine than it had been before, still vulnerable but in a different way. “One day,” he whispers. “One day, I’ll tell you.”

You just nod. You’ve done enough pushing today, and you are satisfied with what you’ve learned. “Okay,” you murmur, your noses brushing against one another.

You bring your gaze to his face again and watch as he bows his head, trying to hide his face in your neck again to avoid your gaze. You hook your finger underneath his chin, tilting his head up so he can meet your eyes once more. “Hey,” you smile, smoothing your hand along his cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

Eddie’s smile spreads over his lips again, far more genuine than it had been before as he brings his hand up to wipe away a stray tear on your face. You lean into his touch, and he can’t help the little chuckle that bubbles from his throat. “I love you.”

Before you can respond, he’s pressing his lips against yours, his tilted head allowing the perfect angle to taste your lips for as long as he pleases. You sink into his kiss and allow it to seal your promise to him, because you love him, and you need him to know that he is the most beautiful soul you have ever known.

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @sweetcoffeebearr @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @sw34terw34ther @hellfire1986baby @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife Eddie the Banished taglist: @hb8301 @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @katsukis1wife @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #eddie munson angst #reader insert #female reader

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assortedseaglass · 10 months

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Recollections - A Seamstress and the Sailor Story

Request: I was thinking very generally and vaguely about either Billy and Ida or Bess and Tom, something about how the romance started? As in... How the soft feelings and affection built up during their teenage years, the pining, the mutual comfort from one another, just spending time together every day being friendly? Just... I want the sweet teenage romance fluff ya know? The deep friendship, the love that they have for one another when we meet them and how it started. @annoying-leftist-donkey

Tom Bennett x Bess Vaughn (OFC)

Warnings: Language, one teeny smutty thought, very minor spoilers for The Seamstress and The Sailor if you haven’t read that.

Word Count: 3.9K

Southport, 1925

“We blame it on a tough week at work, or too much going on at home, but children know. They’re more connected to the earth than we are,”

Tom turned in his seat when he heard his father mention children. Next to Douglas, Marie Bennett was repacking the picnic basket.

“They can sense changes in the weather and all that,” Douglas waved to the sky beyond the bus’ dirty windows. “S’why they’re agitated today. Spring tides. The moon,”

“Alright, Papus,” Tom’s mother smiled at her husband and, with delicate touch, biffed Tom’s nose with a napkin. “Nosy,” He stuck his tongue out and turned back to face the front. Albie Vaughn, with his scabbed and spindly legs, sat next to him, busying his hands with the hair of the two girls in front of them. Lois Bennett and Cora Vaughn were ten and too old to engage with their younger siblings. That is, until they got to the beach at least. When Albie finished tying the girls’ pigtails to each other, he nudged Tom in the ribs and they laughed. From a seat across the aisle, a pair of dark eyes watched the boys.

“Bess Vaughn, what have I told you?” Etta swatted at her daughter’s legs from the seat behind her and the little girl swung her legs down, eyes still focussed on her brother and his friend.

“What?” Albie said.

“Nothing,” Bess’ voice was quiet, and Tom stared at her. There was something about Bess Vaughn that gave him the creeps. Before he could ruminate on why, the bus juddered to a stop and Fergal Vaughn jumped from his seat.

“Take the baskets down for you mothers, lads,” Fergal said, hoisting little Dot into his arms. Lois and Cora whinged as Douglas struggled to untie their hair, and Bess followed her mother and Marie towards the beach. She’d overheard Douglas, telling Marie all about the weather, and how people became agitated when it changed. He was right, too, about the spring tide. The faintest slash of silver was visible on the horizon, a barely there strip of receding sea at the edge of miles of sand. The boys instantly dumped the picnic baskets by the sand dunes and sprinted after Cora and Lois, their shrieks rising into the grey April sky. Fergal unfolded a chair and perched upon it, Dot babbling away on his knee. Beside him, Marie, Etta and Douglas lay a blanket, and when the women were seated upon the sand, Douglas made his slow way towards the water, shoes off, trousers rolled up, hands in pockets. Bess watched the boys chase her older sister and Lois, and Douglas strolling towards the horizon. She decided to follow him.

After an hour of chasing the others, Tom ran to the edge of the dunes. Cora was it, and too slow to catch either him or Albie, making do to run after Lois. He plucked an apple from the picnic blanket and blew a raspberry at Dot, making her giggle.

“Where’s dad?” Marie answered with a point at the sea. There, silhouetted against the glistening water, were two figures. One tall, stooping every now and again to point at something, the other small, collecting whatever the other passed to them. Apple in hand, Tom sprinted along the flat sand, dodged Cora’s attempt to tag him, and towards his father. Bess saw him coming before Douglas, and stood still to watch him. Her stare caught Tom off guard and he faltered, his run becoming an awkward walk. They watched each other a moment.

“What are you doing, dad?”

Douglas smiled at him then at Bess. He nodded his head at her, some sort of encouragement to speak. When she didn’t, he answered. “I’m teaching Bess about the shells and the creatures that live in them.”

Bess held out her hand to show Tom the shell in her palm. “Dog whelk,” was all she said.

“Right,” God, she’s weird. “Well, um, do you want to come and play it with the rest of us? It’s getting a bit boring with Lois and Cora, they’re rubbish.” And he’s my dad, not yours.

“No,” Bess went back to staring at the collection of shells Douglas had given her.

“Go on,”

“Leave her alone, Tom,” Douglas’ voice was soft, his eyes back to scouring the sand for treasures.

“But she never plays, I’m just trying to be nice!” He stepped forward.

“And you can’t force people to play with you,” Douglas turned a rock over in his hand. Tom huffed and grabbed Bess’ arm.

“Come on,” he dragged her towards their siblings.

“Tom-” Douglas had no time to admonish his son before Bess did it for him, sinking her teeth into the flesh of his arm. “Bess!” Tom howled, tears pricking his eyes as he lunged at the little girl. Douglas pulled his son away just in time, his hand wrapped around his son’s scrawny arm. With he other, he took Bess by the hand and marched them back up the beach. “You two can sit with your mams for the rest of the day.” Both children made to protest but he cut them off. “And if I see anymore of that behaviour, from either of you, you’ll be on the first bus home.” Behind his back, Tom and Bess scowled at each other.

St Thomas’ Secondary, 1929

The bell rang, and Bess’ heart sank. She’d spent the last hour hiding behind the bicycle rack, leant against the wooden fence that separated the secondary school from the primary. She peered through the wooden slats, and saw Dot running to class, hand in hand with her friends. Bess sighed and stood up; if she timed it just right she could wait for the others to go inside and still be on time for history. At least being V in the alphabet meant she was sat at the back of the class, and the others would forget she was there. They never usually bothered her when Cora was around, just gave her funny looks. But Cora was at home in bed with a head cold, sadly refusing Bess’ pleas to “just get up and try.”

She watched as the other children filtered through the wooden double doors, Mrs Keith ringing the bell in her hand that called them to lessons. Queenie Warren’s golden curls bounced in the afternoon sunlight, and a pang of jealousy prodded Bess’ insides. The last to go were Frank Smith and Walter Watson. Bess saw their eyes dart around the playground before disappearing behind Mrs Keith. With everyone inside, this was her chance. She ran across the playground as quickly as her little legs would take her, ready to join the queue filing into classroom six. The skirt of Queenie’s dress was just fluttering through the classroom doorway when Bess tripped, her face hitting the book she was carrying as she landed on the ground.

“Where’ve you been then?” The boy’s voice wasn’t kind, or curious. It was tight, teasing, smug.

“She’s a witch, Frank. Remember? She can make herself disappear.” Walter stood over her, one leg either side of her torso, preventing her from standing.

“Wish she would. Her and her whole Paddy family.”

“Please,” Bess’ voice quavered as she spoke, trying to push down the skirt that had ridden up in her fall.

“Been saving this for you.” Walter said, producing from his satchel a carton of milk from the canteen. “You Micks always reek of dirt and incense, what’s another bad smell?” And he poured the sour liquid over Bess’ copper hair.

She whimpered, mouth tight to avoid the rotten milk as she struggled to wipe it from her eyes. There was a dull thud as something hit the floor beside her, and whatever it was groaned. Looking tentatively sideways, Bess saw Walter Watson on his side, looking up in nervous apprehension. She followed his gaze. Frank was cowering against the wall and next to him was Tom Bennett. He said nothing, only stared down at the boy on the floor.

Bess rarely saw Tom these days, aside from the back of his head in class. He’d taken to skipping lessons, only appearing for sports or undoubtedly the few days after his dad had caught him skiving. Tom had hardened since Marie’s death, the plucky friend of her brother making way for the rebel stood above her. At just twelve, his face was already sharp, his shoulders beginning to fill out as teenagedom approached, and his piercing eyes already bore signs of that most adult emotion; weariness. His grief had not been gentle. Tom was always popular at school, but now he was intimidating.

The four children stared between each other, Tom’s eyes not once leaving Walter’s. When Frank stood forward to offer an explanation, Tom slammed him into the wall with surprising force.

“It’s ok,” Bess wobbled to her feet and brushed her damp hair from her eyes. “I’m ok.” Tom watched her a minute, before releasing Frank and glaring down at Walter.

“You so much as look at her, at any of us, I’ll put you in the Infirmary.”

Walter nodded and scrambled from the floor, Frank in his wake. They ducked into classroom six, and Bess and Tom were alone. She watched the floor, embarrassed of her milk-sodden hair and her rescue by Tom.

“I’d better, you know-” she gestured to her face.

“I’ll tell miss where you are,”

“And don’t tell the others, please.” Tom nodded and watched Bess hurry to the girls’ bathroom. He didn’t see her again until 3 o’clock, when she was leant against the school gates. Somehow, she didn’t seem as nervous as normal and Tom smiled, knowing that he might have something to do with it. Her hair was wrapped in the Miss Abbott’s, the librarian’s, scarf, and she gave a small wave to him as he approached.

“How’s your hair?” he asked, noting only the faintest whiff of dairy about her.

“Washed it in the sink, Miss Abbott said I can keep the scarf.” She beamed, though Tom knew the scarf was less of a gift, more a case of not wanted the ruined garment back. He nodded and began his walk home.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Albie?” Bess called, not moving from her sentinel at the gate.

“His got lines with Mr Hughes,” Tom called over his shoulder. Bess tutted and hurried to meet his steps, standing a step away from him than perhaps was natural. They walked together a while, Bess silent and Tom chatting to friends as they departed for their homes. It wasn’t until they rounded into their street that she found her voice.

“Thank you, for earlier.”

“S’fine.” Tom kicked a stone before laughing. “Why didn’t you bite him?”

“Pardon?” Bess stopped outside her front door.

“Walter. Why didn’t you bite him?”

“I-well-”

“You bit me when you got angry,” he smirked.

“I was eight!”

“Would have come in handy back there,”

“I don’t want to bite Walter Watson, I’ll catch something,” she gravely, wrinkling her nose. With a loud laugh, Tom waved and strolled across the street to his own home.

“See you tomorrow, Bess.”

“Yeah, bye.”

St Thomas’ Cemetery, 1933

“-thinks the sun shines out her arse, and I know you’d hate me saying that but it’s true. She can’t do any bloody wrong in his eyes.”

Tom picked up a branch of fallen yew and thwacked the foxglove looming from the ground of the next grave. He’d been coming down to visit his mother a lot recently. Bess told him about it, how when she was sad or angry, she’d come down and talk to Etta. Sometimes she and her sisters brought picnics and blankets, sat by her grave and spent an hour chatting together. He glanced across the graveyard to where Etta lay. The Vaughn’s last offerings of brandy and flowers were gathering crisp leaves. Looking at the small posey of flowers he’d stolen from other people’s gardens, he swiped the branch of yew through the long grass. Compared to the effort the Vaughn’s gave to Etta, his offering was pitiful.

“FUCK!” Again and again he thrashed the foliage, sending pollen and leaves into the evening air. When there was nothing but tombstones left to hit, Tom launched the branch across the cemetery. “FUCK!” The word tore from his throat, causing it to crack. He flung himself on the ground at the foot of his mother’s grave and wept.

Sometimes, he thought his mum and Albie were the only people that understood him, but with Albie still deep in the grief of losing Etta, Tom found he had no one to turn to. The five years anniversary of Marie’s death hit Douglas hard, and his relationship with his son had been fraught ever since. Tom thought it was his father’s timidity, Lois’ seeming perfection, Tom’s inability to commit to any one thing that caused the friction. What he didn’t realise was that each time Douglas looked at his son, he saw his wife. The same passion, same loyalty, same quick temper. Tom cried and cried, brushing angrily at his face in a feeble attempt to wipe away the traitorous tears. If she’d have been here, his mum would have made a joke about Douglas’ humour bypass and rubbed Tom’s back until he was calm. If he tried hard enough, he could feel the warmth of her hand on his shoulder. The grass rustled at his side and he looked up.

Bess was wading through the overgrown cemetery towards Etta, a long piece of string stretching between she and him. Attached to the string, glinting in the sunlight, she’d dropped a tin can by his knee. When Tom looked back to Bess, she was already sat at Etta’s grave, holding up her own tin can and smiling. He sniffled and held it to his ear. She said nothing, only smiled.

He watched her while she spoke to Etta and tidied her grave, replacing the flowers and dusting off the brandy bottle. She gave the gravestone a gentle kiss and walked back to Tom. He patted goodbye to his mother and met her in the centre of the cemetery, under the ancient yew. As was always her way, she stared at him before speaking, her way of assessing which step to take in conversation. Bess took in his red eyes and furrowed brow, the fidgeting that always happened when he was angry, like he was fizzing with energy.

“Was it a bad one?”

“Not really,” Tom sniffed and she watched as his lips twitched into a pout. She licked her own. “Just dad being dad, you know. Wishes I was the one gone, not mam-”

“Shut up. You know that’s not true.” Bess’ voice was harsh, a new development in her growing confidence, but one that Tom admired. He watched as she wound the string around the tin cans.

“Thanks for that,” he pointed to them.

“S’ok, wanted you to know you’re not alone. We’ve forgotten, me and the others, just because your grief has been longer, it doesn’t make it easier than ours.” Tom never knew what to say when Bess came out with her moments of profundity. She didn’t say much but when she did, God, she knew what you needed to hear. Bess Vaughn had a knack for rendering him speechless. “I got this done for you, too.” From her dress pocket she pulled a key. “So you can stop climbing through the window. Dadda’d kill you if he found you in a bedroom with his three daughters.”

Tom snorted. “What will he say if he catches me having a late-night tryst with his most reliable daughter?”

“We do not have ‘trysts’,” Bess began walking from the graveyard and Tom followed. “’Reliable’? God, how boring. Is that all I am?”

“Dependable, then? How about that?”

“I sound like a piece of furniture,”

“You’ve got the legs for it-” Tom broke off with a laugh as Bess hit his arm. “Violence in the churchyard! Don’t let Father Michael see.”

“Says the one swearing and beating up the plants,”

Longsight Labour Club, 1939

“I heard that Bess is coming back today? She could give me a break on the keys,” Connie shuffled her sheet music and watched as Cora and Dot strung bunting from the light fixtures. Owing to her nights singing at the Labour Club, Lois had secured the small hall for her birthday. A table of cream tea was at its centre, the trestle tables ready to be whipped away for an evening of dancing.

“That she is,” Cora said from atop the ladder as Dot fed her bunting. “Perfect timing for you, Lois.”

“Not just for me,” Lois stood at the bar watching her friends’ handiwork. Little did they know that the comment was not directed at them, but her brother. She winked at him and Tom raised his eyebrows. He and Albie were cleaning glasses behind the bar, laughing occasionally at their sisters as they struggled to reach the rafters.

“She’s had a good time then? At the atelier?” Connie asked them.

“God, yeah,” Dot said, lightly slapped by Cora for her language. “She’s got all these fancy clothes and rich clients. And she gives me her copies of Vogue when she’s done with them.”

Connie looked impressed. “Might have to get her to send me some too.”

“She even makes their patterns now. Promised to sew me a new summer suit.”

��If you pay for the fabric,” Cora cut in.

“Better start saving then, my girl.” Fergal had arrived with some of the older residents of the street. Over the next twenty minutes, people of all walks of life trickled into the hall. Mrs Flaherty and Mrs O’Connell, Mrs Mason and her brood of offspring. Queenie Warren who immediately ran to Albie and Tom. Even Harry Chase and some of his private school chums. Tom and Albie looked at each other pointedly as the group of young men approached the bar.

“If it’s brandy and cigars you’re after, lads, the Con Club’s your best bet. You’d be more welcome there too.” Tom muttered the last sentence under his breath and Albie laughed.

“Tom,” Harry held out a placating hand which Tom shook a little too roughly. From behind them, one of Harry’s friends whistled lowly.

“I might consider voting the other way if the reds attract that kind of woman.” The gaggle of men, Tom included, looked to the door. His mouth ran dry. The light pouring into the hall illuminated perfectly elegant cut of her dress and the sway of her hips. He could see, through the white fabric, the faintest outline of her legs and he swallowed with difficulty.

Each man jolted when a shrill cry rang out through the air. Dot was careening towards her older sister, Cora close behind. Having greeted her siblings, Bess made her way towards Lois, and Tom was absolutely cunt-struck. When she left for her apprenticeship at the atelier, Bess still hid herself from strangers. She kept her eyes averted from others. Now, she moved with graceful purpose and her eyes, though still dark, shone with self-assuredness. She knew the effect she had on the room, and Tom felt his cock twitch at the power she held.

“That’s my sister you’re staring at.”

Tom turned his head slowly towards Albie, his eyes slightly unfocussed. When his friend frowned, Tom smirked.

“Wouldn’t you love me as a brother? Anyway, she could do worse,”

“She could do a lot better and all,” Albie gave him a warning look and turned back to the bar. When Tom looked back across the crowd, momentary terror washed over him. Bess, in all her white-clad and gorgeous glory, was heading towards him. Suddenly he felt underdressed in his shirt and threadbare jacket.

“Hi,” What sort of wet fucking hello was that?

“A glass of white please, barkeep.” Bess smiled at him as she leant against the wooden bar. Behind her, Harry’s friends were agog that she was speaking to him. Confidence bloomed in his chest and Tom stood a little straighter.

“Anything else the lady wishes?” Tom reached overhead for a wine glass, not missing the way Bess’ eyes watched the muscles of his arm.

“You working the bar all night?”

“Depends if my sister lets me off. Perhaps the birthday mood might strike her right.” He poured the wine, still feeling Bess’ eyes on him. If she had become a woman during her time in central Manchester, Tom had become a man. His shoulders were tight in the jacket he wore, its collar open just enough for Bess to see the muscles of his strong neck. She traced it upwards with her eyes. The underside of his jaw was sharp, his pink lips casting a small shadow on his sharp chin. His brow furrowed as he poured her drink, and Bess wanted nothing more than to lean across the bar and kiss the small wrinkle that had formed there.

“I hope so,” she sipped her wine and licked her lips. “We have so much to catch up on.” With a smile and nod to the other young men, Bess strolled towards the table of cream tea, perched next to her siblings and engaged in conversation with the older women, each eager to know about her time at the fashion house. When she looked up to see Tom watching still her, her dark eyes flashed with mischief, and she winked. In his pocket, Tom’s hand thumbed the key to the Vaughn’s house.

“Fuck me,”

Notes: I said I’d wait until Borne & Bound was out there, but my head ran away with me. I’m splitting the request into two so there will be a Billy and Ida follow up.

Each little scene was referenced somewhere in the plot of TSATS, and I enjoyed fleshing them out to show why they were so meaningful to Tom and Bess! Papus, mentioned by Tom’s mum, was a famous mystic. Royal Infirmary was a hospital and asylum in Manchester.

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#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #ewan mitchell x reader #tom bennett x ofc #the seamstress & the sailor

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