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stop-pressing-e · 9 months

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Portrait of a Soldier

The Lost Swan

/Thought I decide to share another one of my stories about Krauser and Dullahan and this is one of the first stories I wrote about before The Lost Swan. So think of it as a look into their little quiet life.

Enjoy reading!/

Mentions of: Suggestive talks and Krauser being a prev lol

It started off with a little headshot sketch of Krauser at the corner of the paper on the layout of the building she had drawn out so they could set out a plan to infiltrate. It was a small sketch not bigger from his index finger and yet nothing was missing from his face with those detailing of his scars done with a ballpoint pen. Dullahan didn’t realise it as he hid it with a mug. It was only when she was folding it away was when the sight of the sketch made her remember what she had done, forced to pretend that she didn’t see her own work or that Krauser knew it was her doing.

She won’t know that he liked her little sketch.

The next time Krauser discovered more of her work was when he dropped by her loft via the glass door on her balcony. He was given a keycard by her recently so he could enter her place normally, but oh well, old habits die hard sometimes. He knew Dullahan was currently away on her own missions so he took his chance to recuperate for a couple of days after taking quite a number of mercenary works over the past couple of weeks. Two days should be enough for him. Maybe more if he’s waiting for her return. He does miss her admittedly after all. There were some leftovers that were still good, coffee was full, and his clothes awaiting for his next return were neatly ironed and folded when he opened his wardrobe.

Her loft was spotless as usual knowing the hitman needed the sense of order in her own haven.

The easel, however, was not standing there last time he was here.

Krauser knew she does art as a hobby and he has seen her paint from landscapes to still life of the places she has visited. Last time he had seen her paint was at an opera house she attended alone and he watched her paint the singer on stage before returning his focus to his weapons. Normally when she’s not painting she would have it tucked away.

There a fabric was draped over the easel, presumably to hide the canvas underneath. Curiosity got the best of him to take a peek at her new project. The canvas remained blank, save for a memo stuck to it to remind her to buy more paints, and figure out how to get the smile right for the portrait she’s going to be working on. When it comes to her little art studio in the corner of the living room, there would always be an artist’s sketchbook to see what the memo was talking about. And so there it is, the red well loved leather bound sketchbook is found resting on the table. He has seen her sketches before and albeit without her permission, so nothing like the usual peek doesn’t hurt anyone.

Only he didn’t expect to see his own face staring back at him. Krauser’s face was drawn quite stern with a pencil based on the shading on his face and how most of the details were focused on his eyes to the wrinkle of his brow and the furrow on his mouth. Why the hell did she draw him like this? Was that how she saw him when he got annoyed with her or anyone during those times? That woman, unbelievable. However, that wasn’t the only sketch she had drawn of him. In fact, there were a lot more sketches of him. From headshots to full body drawings of him in various poses and with different mediums, she has filled out a variety of him in over five pages. A couple of them were nude drawings of him done with charcoal and watercolours.

The way she had drawn those were not done in a lewd way or to make him look like a god. Dullahan had drawn him as she had seen him whenever he’s naked, normal. The way his back muscles shifted in charcoal as he was drawn sprawled out on his front on the leather couch he lain on, recalling the time she had given him a back massage. The other drawing that was done in watercolour was when he was taking a shower. He looked completely bliss, possibly for the fact that he was taking a hot shower at the time when she walked in and he never saw her admiring his body from the door that was not lustful.

He has to admit, she has done an amazing job drawing him that he couldn’t help but smile a little upon each inspection of his own appearance. It was then he realised what the memo had meant on the smile. The headshots of him had been drawn with a smile on his face. It wasn’t a big obvious kind that gets into everyone’s face and nor was it a faint kind. It was…simply there, smiling back at the person holding the sketchbook. The smile in those sketches were not exactly how he’s smiling right now, but he can clearly see how hard she had worked to get it right from a pencil to a pen in most of her sketches of him based on imagination alone. Krauser rarely smiles and never does even when a day is good. It was always neutral or stern looking with a rarity of smirking to tease the woman.

The sketchbook was placed back where it found and positioned it correctly so when Dullahan returns, she doesn’t know that he took a peek inside of it and see what has been on her mind lately to draw these out. Krauser has seen past headshots of people she has met once to people she knew but to have multiple drawings of a particular person made him feel special about it and that simply has him smiling as he heads upstairs to shower and get ready to sleep in her bed.

The next time he was at her place, Dullahan now Trish Odile was home too as it was one of her days off from both her waitress job and her hitman contracts, allowing her time to relax and recuperate too. Krauser was lounging at the couch with a book from her bookcase in hand and Trish painting by the glass doors. Both of them minding their own business in the comforts of their home.

From the placement he laid himself across the couch, it was the perfect angle to sneak a peek at Trish in the middle of painting, knowing full well she must be painting a portrait of him based from one of her sketches at her opened sketchbook by her side. Sometimes he would sneak a peek at her finely shaped legs sticking out from the oversize T-shirt she’s wearing that currently belongs to him, also knowing full well that she missed the smell of his scent as he does with her bedsheets. The way her ankles crossed over one another, or how one is crossed over the leg when she leans closer towards the canvas, and sometimes his favourite is when she tucked a leg under her or propped a knee up all while fixing up the shirt, sneaking a glimpse of the rest of her legs and to see if she’s either wearing underwear underneath or those tight yoga shorts.

“You’re staring at me.” Trish called him out on his peeking, never once halted her work and her eye not leaving the canvas to look at him. She wasn’t going to admit that she was peeking at him on her end too. Krauser looked content in his position and the book he chose to read was The Invisible Man. From her angle it was her eyepatch he would see her ‘looking’ back at him, and yet she still knew he was looking at her. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He said, flicking his gaze back on the words he last stopped at, pretending to skim through the sentences to continue his rouse of reading. “Just curious about what you’re painting this time.” He can hear the creaks of the chair being made as she shifted her position again. “Something for my mission soon.” She started. “I have to act as a painter for a gala my target is going to open and I’ll need enough examples to show them to him to have them on display.”

“Sounds fun.” He knew it was a lie and simply went along with it. “You already have your alias on this mission?” “Of course.” Trish let out a chuckle as she stood up and stretched her body, allowing Krauser to lower the book a bit to catch his shirt riding up to see those legs again. He’s going to have them wrap around his waist very soon on this couch and hear that moan she’s currently making after she has stretched.

Trish finally looked at him, a small smile forming on her face. “Do you want to attend the gala as my plus one when the time comes?” “Tch, fancy events are not my forte for missions like yours.” He brought the book up to hide his face and soon catches the hitman approaching him from the top of the book, catching sight of the small pout she’s making. “I’ll pass.”

“You’re no fun, Jackie.” She purred out his nickname he secretly liked as she got closer, and soon she was straddling on his hips, taking the book away so she could have his full attention on her. “It would be nice to see you wearing a suit for once. Maybe one of those fancy military suits you probably had to wear during your army times.”

“What will you be wearing?” He asked her, resting his hands on her hips and rubbing one of his thumbs over the outline of her lower garments. It was definitely the yoga pants. “Matter of fact, what are you wearing underneath?” His free hand decides to sneak under the shirt and tries to tug down the shorts. “I don’t see your nipples poking out. Bra?”

Trish cocked her head to the head, the smile switching to a smirk. “Take it off?”

“That’s an order.” He stopped her from removing his shirt. “Leave it on. Bra off.” Krauser soon smirked when Trish let out a huff while she complied to his orders, snapping off the hooks with the flick of her hand, pulled the straps out from the sleeves, and then pulled out the said bra itself from the opening of the shirt. It was lacy and dark red, one of his favourite colours and one of his favourite sets from hers. Once her shorts were pulled off, Trish planted her hands on his chest while her hips gave the slightest rub against his clothed hips, a soft moan emitted from her lips, and bowing her head down so their faces were quite close to each other.

“Now what, Jackie?”

“You start by calling me ‘Sir’ this time.” He said, grabbing a fistful of her hair in his grasp, pulling her head back to hear that sweet sharp gasp. “And get down on your knees on the floor right now, sweetheart.”

The strong smell of lavender from her shampoo disappeared from his nose, leaving a lingering scent and forcing him to wake up from his deep slumber. Trish was gone from his grasp in the king size bed they shared. Krauser forced himself to sit up from his place, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes to see the warm light illuminating the little art studio. He quietly slid out of the bed, approaching the balcony to see the woman preparing her tools and her paints to continue her work at the canvas. From the top, he can’t see the progress of her work from where he stood and due to her angling the canvas to ensure her shadow doesn’t obstruct her painting session.

He wasn’t sure why of all times, especially in the middle of the night, she chose to continue painting. He had to step back into the darkness when he watched her rush to the kitchen for what he could tell was boiling water to make tea or coffee. It was tea since he doesn’t smell coffee. As much as he wanted to head downstairs and confront her about it, he left it be, returning to the warm sheets and the alluring smell of her body lotion she applied on herself on the comforter to the smell of her lavender shampoo on her pillow.

Dullahan wasn’t lying about having a mission as a painter and he can’t believe he actually joined her as her plus one for the gala they’re attending. Dullahan had to disguise herself with a blonde wig, green contact lens, and cover up her scars as usual. Krauser did not as no one in this building would recognize him. Not even the security guards who simply waved them in and didn't check him for any weapons he might carry, which is his knife hidden inside his jacket. No military suit for him but a simple yet classic black tuxedo Dullahan has managed to convince himself to wear with a black bowtie. As for her, she wore a dark red dress with spaghetti straps and a long silt on her skirt, exposing her right leg.

The sight of her chest simply revealing for other men to take a quick look at almost had jealousy bubbling at the pit of his stomach while at the same time he admitted that she looked sexy wearing this kind of dress and in the same shade of red like her bra a week ago. To be the matter of fact she’s not wearing a bra at all for her outfit.

“What colour is your underwear right now?” He whispered in her ear while Dullahan collected two glasses of champagne from a passing server, handing one to Krauser. A teasing grin formed on her face. “Why ask me such a curious question like that, darling?” Her voice was laced with a sweet enduring tone a lover would give to their significant other since they are posing as a married couple. She tugged on his arm with her arm wrapped around him to guide him to one of her paintings people are admiring currently. The first painting was a beautiful beach with the view of the ocean, and if one looked closely at the cliff, there was a little cottage, with a lone woman walking along the path barefoot and her shoes held in her one hand. Part of the body concealed with a parasol.

Krauser, who is not a fan of the fine arts, was oddly impressed by the colours she used in her painting. It almost gives off a hazy feeling of a dream one might still be having currently. He doesn’t recognise where the beach is and he’s simply assuming it must be her dream for the future. Peace and quiet.

Dullahan tugged his sleeve to get him to lean down as they head for the next painting and whisper in his ear. “It’s black and it’s a thong.”

A smirk graced his lips. There was no one by one of her other paintings, allowing him the chance to whisper what he has in mind for her. “The next time you wear this dress again and I have to tag along, I want you to wear nothing underneath it.” Trish, continuing to keep up her facade of enjoying her time, simply smiled as if he told her something sweet before she took a sip of her champagne. “I will make you rub yourself on my leg like a depraved whore and it’ll be music in my ears to hear you beg for sweet relief from me.”

Whether it was automatically or by his words alone, her face flushed and she let out a soft giggle, hiding her smile with her glass. “Oh darling, how sweet of you. I should go and find our dear host and say my thanks to him. Hopefully I won’t take long but meet me in the private room over there soon.” Pointing at the closed doors guarded by two men at both sides of the door with a velvet rope to steer off anyone from approaching. “Tell them you’re with me and they’ll let you in.” Trish patted his broad shoulder and winked at him. “Fifteen minutes. Enjoy yourself, honey.”

He did his best to enjoy the rest of the gala alone. It was almost suffocating with people asking him for his thoughts and opinions on other artists’ works to Dullahan’s. As much as he didn’t like any of the artworks, he wished he could slit their throat right now if someone makes another disapproving remark on her paintings simply because of their thoughts on them. Bloody critics they are.

Fifteen minutes was nearly up and Krauser made his way to the private room she told him about. He noticed a selected number of people were allowed to enter, possibly connections with the said painters itself, and he was one of them to enter as soon he told the guards of his connection with Dullahan’s alias.

The lightning in the room was dimmer and warmer compared to outside and there was a lesser number of paintings itself. Only five paintings, each belonging to one artist themself. One of the patrons did a double take on Krauser and was forced to look away when he bared his teeth at them.

Why were they looking at him like that?

That’s when he met his painted self hanging on the wall. His portrait was wearing his military suit during his golden years with his signature red beret he wears now. In the painting, he was sitting on a fancy chair, his signature knife resting in his hand with his elbow resting on his knee propped up higher than the other. It made him look like he was one of those commanders from old period war era but with a modern take of it. Krauser noticed that she painted him scar free of them, making him look less stern than he is currently yet there was a glint of mischief in those icy painted blue eyes and the way his head is angled to the side as if someone caught him thinking something bad. More importantly, it was the smile she painted on him. It still wasn’t right but the way the corner of his mouth curled upwards to the way his lips parted very slightly exposing a flash of teeth matched the mischief look she painted. The background she painted was a dark green with a single window behind him showing a brief view of the beach that oddly looked familiar.

Krauser was honestly awed by how much work she put into this portrait of him. He was lost with thoughts and no words could describe how she portrayed him to be displayed for private eyes to see.

Dullahan finally arrived, joining the soldier by his side. She smiled from seeing his stunned expression of her latest painting. She took note of his body language from his right hand cupping his own face, possibly to hide those parted lips from her eyes, the way his brows knitted together while one of them was raised, and how he wouldn’t stop staring at the painting to look at the painter herself.

“I’m glad you like it, Jackie.” She spoke softly so only they could hear it. “To be honest, I didn’t want this on display at the gala but he insisted I do. Thankfully none of these in this room are for sale but the ones outside.” She tucked the loose strands of her blonde wig behind her ear while she looked around their surroundings. “He’ll die slowly and by tomorrow it’ll be on the news. From a heart attack or a sudden stroke.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his arm. “What do you think of it?”

“I like the colours.” He said. “Plus you didn’t make me look like those arrogant captains painted like gods.”

“Glad to hear that, love.” Her mouth twisted and sighed a bit to herself. “The only thing I don’t like is that I couldn’t get your smile right. I did the best I could with what I did there.”

“I don’t care. Looks good to me.” His answer was nonchalant despite her disappointment at the one thing she couldn’t achieve correctly. “Next time if you think of painting me again, paint the scars on. It’ll look better.”

“I’ll take note of that.” Dullahan lifted her head up to give him a sincere smile for his honest words. “I’m heading back out so I can have an alibi. Care to join me?”

“In a moment.”

“Sure thing.” She nodded her head and soon left the private room. Once everyone else had left the room, a smile graced his scarred lips, cocking his head to the side to admire the painting better and soon letting out a chuckle while stuffing his hands into his pockets. She nor anyone will ever see him smile right before their eyes and that will be his own secret. Besides, he liked how she painted her version of his smile. Despite not being a fan of art, he’s certainly a fan of her work.

“You did well, sweetheart. You did well.”

#Jack Krauser #Dullahan #Krauser/Dullahan #Hatter's writing #Jack Krauser X OC #Krauser X OC #Resident Evil Krauser

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myneurodivergentlife · 2 years

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I couldn't bring myself to vacuum, so I bought the smallest, lightest vaccum that i could. I may still not vacuum as much as I should, but i know it won't hurt me to do it.

I eat a slice of bread when I can't bring myself to cook.

I wipe myself with baby wipes when I can't shower.

I put my hair in a low ponytail when I can't brush it.

If I'm sweaty, but can't shower? Baby powder works wonders.

Can't wash the dishes? I just put them into a neat pile in the sink and it makes me feel good enough that it lasts me until I feel good enough to do them.

House smells? Wax warmers.

Can't remember to feed animals? Automatic dispensers. If your extra fancy, get the electronic ones with times on them.

I fill up a small jug of water that I just leave on the counter. Whenever I see my animals water bowl empty, I just use the jug so that I don't have to bend over and pick up the bowl or water fountain.

I have my dishes either sitting on an open shelf or in a cabinet right by the sink, so that all I have to do is put it there, no reaching up or walking around the kitchen.

Can't sweep the whole house? Don't. Pick one mess, or one room, or one corner of a room and just sweep anything you can reach into a pile. Don't move furniture, don't go underneath tables just whatever you can easily reach. Sweep it into a pile. If you have the energy to pick it up, go for it, if not, that's cool too. The space already feels and looks better. Also, please invest in a broom dustpan with a handle so you don't have to bend down. Also, I sweep sitting down where I can. If I'm sweeping next to my bed, I'm sitting on my bed. If Im sweeping by the couch, then im sitting on the couch.

Hate brushing your teeth? Me too. I sit down and watch YouTube when I brush my teeth. If I don't have something to rise my mouth out with becuase it's dirty or I'm out of disposable cups. Water bottle. I replace my toothbrush often with something new so I want to use the new thing. I use non mint toothpaste made for gum disease. I use the softest charcoal toothbrush I can find. Does it scub the plaque like I really need? No, but it does make it so I'm more likely to use it. I use kids mouthwash. My mouth is too small, so I use children's toothbrushes.

I can't fold my clothes or hang them up, so what do I do? I throw my clothes into bins in cube organizers. I only serperate them by vague categories. No folding, just tossing in. I don't care if I dig around to find the right top, becuase it's all just thrown in there anyway. And I just sit the bins on my bed and watch t.v as I do it.

When I can't get out of bed? I bring something I love to me. I have a rolling cart with all of my paint supplies. do I end up with paint on my bed and couches? yep. Does it make me feel like I accomplished something on days I couldn't get up? Also, yep. I keep books by my bed so I can always read something I love. I keep deordorant and baby powder and my hair brush on my night stand so that I am always near it.

Don't do the things that your supposed to every day? Me either. I try to make it pretty and use things I like. I know it's not an privilege that most people have, but if it is an option I highly recommend it. I got a cute water bottle, so I would drink more water. Got a glass carafe so that I would use mouth wash. Got fancy dish washing equipment so I want to use my new stuff. I got my dog a pretty collar and leash, so I'm more tempted to walk her instead of just letting her out into the yard. I want to make my shower and kitchen so aesthetically pleasing that it makes me want to be in them. I watch pretty aethetic videos of people doing chores to inspire me.

Sorry for the long rant, these are just things that help me that I want to remember and hopefully can help someone else. I'll add more as I remember them.

#adhd #depression #chronic illness #chronic fatigue #long post #ptsd #complex ptsd #spoonie

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

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free space for you to talk about literally anything you want! rant about something?? write out a thought that you haven’t had the time to translate into words?? post the song lyrics or poetry you scribbled on the back of a paper?? idk just whatever you want. you’re cool :)

Oh oh this is perfect!! Also thank you, being cool is such a lovely descriptor!! Anyway, all the searching through my camera roll for pet photos recently has taken me back very far

Far enough that I ended up seeing some of my old photos of art from an intro level art class I took back in spring 2021, and looking at it I went…this is kinda good! But the only person whose ever seen it is that professor, so I’ve been considering sharing some!! And now you’ve given me the perfect opportunity!!!

i haven't included any of the reference photos I used for the art, but if you'd want to see them I can share them as well. Moving forward, I’ll put everything under a cut to save space :)

(all IDs are in alt text)

Okay so this one's a negative space drawing of some plants! Fun fact the one on the far left is an onion that had sprouted because we hadn't eaten in in time, because at the time I didn't have a third houseplant I could use for the reference and I needed 3

This one is a line weight drawing of a glass jar filled with water, a wyvern figurine, and an ornament! The ornament shows up a lot because it was required

This was just some notebooks, cloth, an ornament, a jar, and a piece of folded paper. A random arrangement drawn in charcoal but I think it looks nice. the cloth in the back is actually a pillowcase because that's what I had on hand:

And then this is another random arrangement of things, but this time drawing with white on black paper instead of the other way around! And it's got a twilight book in it so :) very me

then this one was done on a scratchboard! essentially I used an exacto knife to scratch away the black and reveal the white to draw this owl:

this isn't everything I drew in that class, as some of it is mundane line exercises and such, and some of it just didn't turn out in a way I'm proud of.

like my final. ugh. the requirements for that one fucked me over because she wanted us to have a certain number of things in the piece, but in doing so I was just cramming things into the composition. The sketch was cool! But the inking...not so much. I might still have the sketch if you're interested

but yeah!! these are some of my realism art pieces/studies from that one art class I took to fill a credit over a year ago. that class actually turned out to be my most difficult and stressful one that semester due to executive dysfunction, but I learned a few helpful tricks :)

thank you for the opportunity to share them, Nonsie! I miss doing art more often, so I can't wait to explore it again when the wings au is finished

hope you enjoyed! i will now be taking compliments about how cool and awesome and talented I am (that's a joke you don't need to do that)

#quil's quill #quil's queries #nonsie #i have a habit of going 'what's the most interesting and relevant to my interests class I can take to fill this credit requirement'#instead of going 'what's the easiest class I can take to fill this credit requirement so I can spend my energy on the more difficult #classes that have to do with my majors'#so I end up taking harder filler classes than I need to #like this art class. and my anatomy class #there were so many much easier things I could've done #but I prioritized my interests #and I'm not sorry for it. but it's something to keep in mind about myself #neither is better than the other #i just gotta remember I won't take the easy way through so I gotta be gentle with me #you know?#anyway here's some of my art :)#i draw book characters a lot but am capable of other things

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k00294156 · 2 months

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Fashion

For the last two weeks of my movement project I have decided to do my fashion. Because Fashion in the elective I was most looking forward to and the elective I have most interest in, I decided to leave it til last so I could have the maximum amount of research and primary sources collected. I used the work I have done in my other electives, like the charcoal drawings I did for painting and the mark making we did in ceramics, and brought it to fashion. Mairead printed then in different sizes multiple times so I could use them to make fashion designs. I’m going to explain some of my favourite designs I made.

I wanted all my designs to relate to my theme of ballet in some way so I started by making something inspired by the ribbons on point shoes. I made ribbons that go high up the leg with bows at the top which I thought were very feminine and ballet-esq. I made the bows by folding paper and securing them with masking tape

I think the most iconic item of clothing in ballet is a tutu so I wanted to incorporate it into one of my designs. I didn’t want the manikin to just be wearing the tutu so I experimented with interesting ways I could incorporate it. I cut spikey shapes and placed them overlapping in a circular shape on the model. These are my two favourites.

Another thing I really like was this skirt I made from a charcoal drawing. I love how it’s 3D off the page and appears flowy.

Unfortunately because both of my drawings were in black and white I didn’t get to use any colour, but I want to incorporate colour into my designs tomorrow.

These are some of my other designs

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cavalierious-whim · 7 months

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Alhaitham makes Kaveh work for it. Be sure to read here on A03 and retweet on Twitter!

Perhaps it is cruel.

Alhaitham’s knees smart against the floor. His gaze flickers up, washing over Kaveh, taking in the way that he arches his back. Half-clothed. The collar of his shirt hangs open, collarbone on display. Alhaitham didn’t spend enough time tracing it with his tongue, but that isn’t the point here. Kaveh’s trousers are trapped around one ankle, heaped on the floor.

And before him, Kaveh’s cunt, his panties slick and wet, ready to be teased. No, no teasing today. Kaveh is overworked and frustrated. He’s spent too many hours hunched over the drafting table, shoulders curled, tension coiling tight in his being. Design after design tossed. His charcoals are rubbed to barely nibs. Even now, his fingers are stained dark and dusty, Alhaitham choosing to distract him at the worst of times.

“Say it again.” Kaveh says nothing which comes as no surprise. It always takes a bit to ease him into this. Alhiatham smooths his palms over Kaveh’s thighs, tracing circles into the supple skin.

“Haitham—”

Alhaitham kisses the inside of one of his thighs. “Again, Kaveh.”

His eyes flicker up once more. The moment isn’t as tense as it is hesitant. Kaveh’s face is red. His lips wobble as he tries to force the words from his mouth. Alhaitham’s drags his knuckles across Kaveh’s groin. He doesn’t drag his thumb over his cock, stiff through the material—but he presses it close enough that Kaveh bucks against his hands, bracing himself against the edge of his desk.

“Do you want more?” Alhaitham plants another kiss, this one at the crease where Kaveh’s thigh meets his groin. He traces the line with his tongue, delighting in the salty tang of sweat, and the way that a sigh falls from Kaveh’s lips. “Only good boys get rewarded.”

“I’m—”

“You’re?”

“I deserve this.” Kaveh looses a shaky breath and though his tone wavers, it is solid enough.

Alhaitham’s thumb presses closer to where Kaveh wants it, skirting the swell of skin at the edge of his cock. “And what else do you deserve?”

“To be loved.”

“By?” He takes pity, dragging his thumb over the hard just of Kaveh’s cock.

Kaveh jerks. His nostrils flare and his hips roll, seeking out more friction against that aching nub. Alhaitham is too light with his touch, petting it over the soft cotton of his underthings.

“You. Gods, you’re—you, Haitham. Please, please.”

Alhaitham traps his cock through the fabric between his thumb and forefinger and leans forward for a kiss. Then, he hooks his fingers into those panties and yanks them aside, eager to please Kaveh now that he’s done as he asked. He promised an award, and though it was hard, Kaveh followed through.

His cunt glistens, slick dripping freely from his hole. His folds are beautifully swollen, pink and ruddy, his cock jutting out from them, stiff and hard. Divine. This is as much a treat for him as it is for Kaveh. He dips forward for a taste, tongue swirling through his sex before just barely dipping into his entrance.

“That’s—”

Not enough. Alhaitham knows. “Say it again,” he purrs from between Kaveh’s legs.

“Haitham.” A needy whine. Kaveh’s voice is sho, raspy with annoyance.

“Good boys get?”

“Rewards,” snaps Kaveh. “They—I deserve this. I deserve you, this love, your love, our love, just put your mouth where I want, dammit.”

Alhaitham laughs, licking a stripe from Kaveh’s hole to cock. He flattens his tongue for a gentle lick to the tip before wrapping his lips around Kaveh’s cock to suckle. Kaveh’s thighs tighten around his face as he jerks, making Alhaitham chuckle as he holds them open with his hands.

“Behave.” Alhaitham nips at the soft flesh of Kaveh’s groin. His fingers massage the skin around Kaveh’s cock, peeling back the foreskin until the head is exposed, shiny and wet. He kisses the tip sweetly, gently before sucking again, his tongue tracing the outer edges.

Kaveh moans, head tipping back as he braces himself against the desk. He rolls his hips, meeting Alhaitham’s mouth, trying to force him to move quicker, faster, anything for more friction—but that isn’t Alhaitham’s goal. He’s easy in his movements. Slow and methodical as he sucks and licks, intent on dragging Kaveh to the edge in a slow haul rather than a quick wave that crashes against the beach.

He tastes like perfection, tangy, unique, like Kaveh. Alhaitham moans against him, lapping at the slick that leaks from his hole. Alhaitham’s face is wet with it as he drowns eagerly. He eats up every moan, swallows Kaveh’s desire, and sinks into every breathy moan that drips from his lips.

Kaveh knows the more he says the more that he gets. “I deserve this break,” he says, words pinched with a groan as he falls back against an elbow. Fingers curl into Alhaitham’s hair and tug until his scalp burns. “I deserve your worship, hm?”

And it’s Alhaitham’s turn to moan, working Kaveh over until his thighs are quivering under his palms, shaky and tense. Still just his tongue. Alhaitham wants him to come just like this with his name on his tongue, praising him so sweetly.

“I deserve this kindness,” croons Kaveh as his fingers loosen and he pets Alhaitham’s hair instead. His hips rise and fall as he rides his mouth, meeting every press of his tongue. “I deserve you.”

Alhaitham is hard in his trousers, cock aching as he soaks it all up. Kaveh’s praise is a balm for himself; he gets off on relishing Kaveh as much as he does to hear Kaveh affirm it. Kaveh comes easily, then, with a hiss of Alhaitham’s name as his toes curl.

One last sweeping lick of his tongue from hole, through swollen folds, right to Kaveh’s oversensitive cock. And then a sweet kiss that leaves Kaveh melting against the desk, loose-limbed and no doubt feeling better.

The moment is ruined with a smirk as Kaveh says, “I do think I deserve more.”

Alhaitham stands with a grunt. He settles between Kaveh’s spread legs and takes hold of his chin. A thumb smooths over Kaveh’s bottom lip and Alhaitham thinks he falls in love again. “Always,” he says before kissing him.

Kaveh responds eagerly, his tongue tracking Alhaitham’s lips before dipping inside his mouth. “You taste like me,” he murmurs, sharing breath and moans, teeth clacking together as Alhaitham laughs in response.

“Obviously.”

“More,” reminds Kaveh. He drops a hand between them and squeezes Alhaitham’s dick through his trousers. “I’ve worked hard for it.”

He has in so many ways. Alhaitham often has to guide Kaveh into admitting it, but he does know that there is an agreement: Kaveh’s defense mechanism may come with harsh words directed at himself, but he does not actually think he’s undeserving.

But, if it takes this for Alhaitham to remind him; if what Kaveh needs is him between his thighs on his knees, or his cock buried in those tight, hot depths, then Alhaitham is more than willing to provide.

Alhaitham’s trousers are undone swiftly, just enough to free his cock. Kaveh’s breath hitches as he drags the tip of his length through the folds of his sex, those panties still pulled to the side. “You were good for me, a darling thing even if your words are still sharp.”

“I deserve your cock,” snaps Kaveh, a delicious bite to his words that sends sparks down Alhaitham’s spine.

And well, who is he to deny such a reward?

#Genshin Impact #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fanfic #haikaveh #alhaitham/kaveh #haikavetham

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reimagining-twilight · 10 months

Text

🦊 Chapter Four Invitations Part One - Jasper 🦊

My arrival home is met with the expected emotions. Relife, from Esme and Carlisle. Anger from Rosalie and happiness from Alice and by extension Edward.

When Rosalie finally gets the ire out of her system I go for a walk hunting a bit more than I need to just to clear my head.

—

Esme, very impressed that I hadn't slipped, reluctantly agrees to let me return to school tomorrow on the condition that I stay with her in the auditorium. I agree because at least I'll get to see Isabella a little bit.

I'm sure their reactions would've been different if I'd told them I'm in love with Isabella Swan.

—

When we arrive in the morning I can feel the humming before we even enter the building. My violin.

The old instrument waits for me on the small office sofa calling to me, begging me to play it. I pick it up gently and just having it in my hands makes me forget about everything.

I take it, my violin coming to rest in its place, then I draw the bow, playing the first notes before I even reach the practice rooms. The sound is wonderful, dulling and heightening my senses at the same time. It's a wonderful blank feeling, empty of anything but the music.

I play the first notes that come to mind letting the emotions pulse through me. I can't hear or see or even feel anything but the music. I feel better already, the playing cleansing me of all the negative emotions. I feel emotionless and it's absolutely wonderful. I do, however, feel bad for Esme. She will have to leave the room when it becomes too much for her fragile form.

I don't think I'd kill her (not on purpose anyways) but it certainly isn't a pleasant experience. A few measures in, she quietly walks out the back door.

Eventually Esme enters the room again. This time is a gift and it's hard for her to give me this gift, painful even sometimes if I'm having a bad day. Today is going to be an excellent day. I can't stop smiling, for once it feels good to be feeling something.

When I put down my violin I sneak a look at my reflection on the screen of my MP3 player as I plug my headphones in. Charcoal hair and blazing blue eyes still bright from playing. My violin is so burnt now, I'll have to replace it soon, but for now I just replace the fraying strings.

Music blasts into my ears, it takes everything away dulling the near constant pain of emotions. The humans are arriving on campus.

I brush my hair over my face forming a curtain, I can feel the ash from my bow rub off onto my face but I don't wipe it off.

I lay down on the stage just staring at the lights, my head propped up using my coat as a pillow. When my hands have cooled to a reasonable temperature I lean against the podium and restring my instrument going at a steady human pace, pausing only to look at my shoes. My white high tops, my second favourite pair, have Van Gogh-esque moons painted on them. I painted them myself. I'm the only one who picks out their own clothes. Alice chooses everyone else's wardrobe, I know she gets great joy out of it but I won't let her touch mine. I've tried to tell her that it isn't stubbornness and I would do the same to anyone else, but it still upsets her a bit.

When the violin is restrung I sit beside it and take out a piece of black paper from my sketch book. Slowly a swan begins to form in my hand. I suppose I could use my speed to make a thousand swans but I don't. Instead I fold the black paper gently moving slowly and carefully, calming my fingers which still hum from the excitement of playing. When I finish one I start on another. I feel the emotions creeping back in and quickly drown them out again. The air fills suddenly with human scent but after the last month it's easy to ignore.

Then I feel someone's intense relief. I try to drown it out with my music but it keeps creeping through. I don't want to feel anything right now. I'm exhausted. Then the footsteps start. Urgent like she's fighting to slow herself. Then her scent hits me, beautiful made just for me, still tempting but in a new way now. She's confused. I haven't looked at myself but I know from experience that I don't look like myself right now.

I feel her gaze on me but I don't open my eyes. Why now, just a few more minutes and I'd look like myself. Why, cruel universe, oh why? I tune into her emotions, admiration then slight jealousy, curiosity. She leans slightly closer and I shiver, even though I don't want to kill her this is definitely going to take some getting used to.

At last I'm released, she steps back. I take a breath trying to be subtle about it. "Umm, Jasper? Hi."

"Isabella!" I have to smile because I'm genuinely happy to see her, more than. In my excitement I remove my headphones without turning them off. The music spills across the auditorium too loud for human ears, Isabella cringes and takes an unconscious step back, the other orchestra students look at us. "Sorry about the music, I didn't hear you come in."

She shakes her head as if to clear it, "It's okay, the song was good."

Her scent is smothering me. It's amazing but I can't breathe. I clear my throat in hopes of finding my voice again. "It's nice to see you again." I sit up, putting the swan to the side and placing my crumbling instrument in my lap. Ash dusts my slacks. Isabella's eyes dart all over my figure, not resting any place for too long. Finally they land on my hair. It should be at some shade of brown by now.

"You too," she says. She sounds honest enough, but she isn't done. I can feel her confusion and anger.

I give her a warning look and gesture to the humans around us. She nods and follows me to one of the vacant practice rooms.

As soon as I shut the door she huffs and begins again, "Where the hell have you been? You saved me from the van and then you just what? Run off? Why did you even come back today?"

I'm stung at her assumptions, and the fact that they're true. Technically Rose ordered me away but I could've stayed. Another side of me wonders why Isabella is so bothered by my absence. Either way I can't give her answers to the first question or the second without sounding insane.

What would she think if I told her that I was in love with her? I want to laugh, imagining her potential reactions.

I want so badly to play my instrument again. It will help me sort out my knotted thoughts. I tell her what I can, " I was taking a mental health break, doing my school work from home." Isabella's eyes narrow.

She continues just before I walk out the door. "Okay. I get that, but seriously. What the hell? Not even a goodbye!"

Intrigued, I let go of the doorknob. Out of everything, this is what disturbs her? "You wanted a goodbye?"

She blushes, clearly trying to come up with an acceptable response. Interesting. She settles for "What's with the hair?"

I laugh at her effort, shaking my hair over my eyes, feigning innocence, "You don't like it?"

"It's interesting, just really different. A big change." Her face is unreadable and her emotions are equally as mixed. I don't care if she likes my hair, I really don't, not at all.

I gasp, plastering a mask of shock on my face, with legitimate fear she turns to look behind her but there's only the still locked door. Have I actually scared her? She turns back glaring. I ignore her and continue my act placing my hand over my still, silent heart and collapsing onto the piano bench. Slowly I stand up again. "Boys can dye their hair."

She looks panicked again then shakes her head. "Oh, no I didn't mean . . . I wasn't judging I- I just, I like it, it looks great on you. Really, I mean it." A beautiful blush lights up her cheeks.

Her compliment makes me smile. "I just wanted a change. Esme doesn't want it too long. She thinks having your hair in your eyes makes you look unkempt. I have to say that she's right." I let a breathy chuckle escape my lips.

There's a brief silence, I don't mind it. But she has a class to get to, so I start to open the door. The force of her longing surprises me, what does she miss?

"Does it have a name?" She asks

"What."

"Your violin,"

"No, should it?"

"It's just that a lot of musicians name their instruments," she says shyly.

I think about this. I do think of my violins as an extension of my person but they're a weapon. I've never thought about naming any of them. I go through them in about a year if I play once a month and I often play more than that. They're impermanent. I don't bother getting attached. The instrument doesn't matter, just the music.

I promise to think about it anyway.

She turns to retrieve her own instrument from a case in the chairs but I grab her shoulder. "Hey, now, it's my turn."

She spins around to face me, confused. "What?"

"To ask the questions of course."

This doesn't seem to cure her confusion. She looks bored but her emotions contradict this. Excitement, nervousness. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

I start simple. "Well firstly, does your violin have a name?"

"No, but I guess if it did it would be Beatrice, Bea for short."

"Beatrice is a nice name, is there a specific reason?"

"No, I just like the sound. What would you name your violin?"

I laugh quietly. Wasn't I supposed to be the one asking the questions?

"What's so funny, is the name something dirty?" she asks, cringing, slightly confused again.

"No, of course not. You just did it again." she's still confused, "I thought it was my turn to ask questions," I explain.

She just looks at me, expectant.

I give in. "I really don't know, I'll have to ask my mother"

A strange mix of feelings pass through her, so fast I barely catch the tail end of her wondering.

"Or you could help me pick a name."

She just stares at me for a second. "Sure, but I don't really umm, I don't like know you, you know."I shake my head, I really don't know. "It can't just be a random name, it has to fit your personality, it can't just be something random." She's kind of rambling and I can tell she's embarrassed by my request.

I pause looking for the right words. "That's okay, we can get to know each other." her expression changes and I hear her heart rate increase slightly. Am I scaring her? "I really would like to be friends with you Isabella Swan. And I'm sorry I keep randomly disappearing, I know I probably don't seem like very good friend material but I hope you know I can do better." I smile, so does she.

"Sure, but I'll have you know that I'm not really great friend material either." She looks down at her feet. I shake my head, she has no idea does she?

What am I doing here in this strange casual conversation with the girl I'm desperately in love with? None of this makes sense. I want to play my violin so badly. I want to play and play and play until everything disappears, until I can untangle this vicious knot in my head. I want to play without having to be careful. I want to shed these restraints of humanity. I want to be free.

It isn't nearly the first time I've wanted this but it's the first time I've wanted someone else with me. But of course that would be very dangerous.

"Then I guess we can both be awkward together. That sounds great to me."

She nods, taking a breath then "I- umm . . . do you want to go to Seattle? With me. Not like a date or anything like that at all! There's just this book shop that sounds really cool. And we could like, go, as friends." she pauses blushing deeply, "I'm sorry if that sounded weird I don't really have a lot of friends so I don't really know what friends normally do together, yeah, sorry."

"I think that's a great idea. When would we go?"

"Are you free Saturday?"

"Yes. We would leave in the morning?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then."

I sense deep curiosity from her and I find myself wanting to tell her everything but I don't. I can't, and I hate it.

—

We talk easily for the rest of class, the awkwardness forgotten. All too soon she has to leave for her next class.

The rest of the day I can't help thinking about Saturday. Despite how aware I am that she only thinks of me as a friend, the confirmation of that was slightly disappointing. Still I'm relieved she even accepted me as her friend.

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hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf · 2 years

Text

Overtime

boss!chan x personal assistant!fem reader

Trigger warnings: name-calling, intimidation

Content warnings: oral (m&f receiving), names (baby girl, dearest, good girl, babydoll, baby, slut, whore), daddy kink (obviously), praise, degradation (don’t ask me why i put both praise and degradation in here, i’m a whore), spanking (kinda? anyways we love a good ass slap), chan folds you like a pretzel then holds your hand while finishing you off cause he’s caring like that. minho makes an appearance early on.

Summary: you work as bang chan’s personal assistant. with a comeback on the horizon, he tells you he needs you to pull some serious overtime.

Word count: 5559

A/N: be sure to check out the video i’m about to post, it was kind of the inspiration for the bj part lmao anyways y’all want me to save you seats in hell?

Smut below the cut

You let out a frustrated sigh as you pocketed your phone, which had just buzzed with a message from your boss. You were about to clock out for the day when he asked you to come to his studio. Your kitten heels clicked against the hardwood floor as you made your way to the tiny room where the magic happened. Except it wasn’t magic when you’d already been in the building for eight hours, barely getting a moment to sit as you ran this way and that for him.

You straightened your clothes before reaching out to knock on the charcoal door. It swung open before you even finished and you were met with a bright smile. “Come in.” Chan urged as you plastered a pleasant expression on your face. Despite the crush you had on him, you were annoyed and had to fake a smile.

Yes, you worked for Bang Chan. The Bang Chan, the leader of fourth generation KPop idol band Stray Kids and the mastermind behind almost every hit track they’d ever performed. You were his personal assistant and the unnervingly beautiful man had been irritating you beyond belief today with all the running about he’d made you do. “You wanted to see me?” You prompted as he closed the door to his studio while you perched on the arm of the sofa that sat across the shoebox room from all his equipment.

“Yeah. So…” he looked sheepish and regretful and you felt a ball of anxiety settle in your stomach. What bad news was he about to break to you? “As you know, we just announced a comeback.” You felt yourself deflate. You’d worked for him just long enough to have witnessed two comebacks and he never slept during that time. He’d be extra crabby the next few weeks. Maybe he was apologizing in advance for that? “I hate to do this to you but I’m gonna need you to stay late until we start promotions. On days I’m not in the studio, like days where I’m doing a photo shoot or an interview, I’ll give you the day off to make up for it. So you’ll have a day off once or twice every couple of weeks until we start the jacket shooting and filming the music video, then it’ll be even more frequent. You’ll keep your weekends, I won’t take that from you. But starting tonight, I’m gonna need you here until ten.”

You wanted to fucking scream. Instead, you let out a sigh and pulled your phone out to call your roommate. Chan looked on in confusion as your roommate answered the phone, you forcing him to maintain eye contact. “Hey. I know you said you wanted to cook for me tonight but I won’t be home until almost eleven. Can you just put my share in the microwave and I’ll heat it up when I get there?” He looked upset that he’d ruined your plans and he bowed his head as your roommate questioned you. “Yeah, they’re working on an album and it’s crunch time so he needs me here until ten for the next couple months. I’m sorry. Give Daisy kisses for me, yeah?” She let out a disappointed sigh as you hung up and Chan rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“Hey, look, I’m really sorry. This comeback is different. If it weren’t for that I’d only ask you to stay until seven, which I know isn’t what you signed up for either.” He sighed and sat down at his desk, turning to face the monitor which displayed a track he was mixing just before you arrived. “On the bright side, you’ll get a fat check for it. The company gives time and a half for any overtime, as you know, and I will personally provide a bonus.”

“Gee, you’re my boss, not my sugar daddy.” You teased as you settled in, knowing it would do no good to stay mad when you couldn’t leave for another five hours. You weren’t much younger than him so the two of you usually shared playful banter throughout the day. You let out a soft laugh but he didn’t laugh with you and you immediately thought you’d fucked up. “I’m sorry, I was just-“

“I could be.” His voice was much lower than usual and your stomach filled with bats. Not butterflies, that was far too tame. Your stomach was full of bats, violently flapping their wings as they tried to escape. “I could easily give you anything you wanted in return for your…affections.” When you didn’t answer, he spun in his chair to face you. You could barely see him, he’d already switched off the overhead light in favor of the desk lamp beside his computer and the light behind him made it hard to see anything more than a silhouette. The room was filled with a warm glow but the fire he’d just started in your body was far warmer. “I see you staring at me, day in and day out. You can’t deny you find me attractive. I can see it now, written all over your face.”

Somehow, you found your voice. “Well I’ve got eyes, haven’t I?” You quipped and he gave a disdainful laugh, the sound shooting straight to your pussy. You really needed to stop allowing yourself to enjoy being degraded. You took a steadying breath as you stood, shaking your head. “Mr. Bang, I do believe you’ve cracked open that special bottle of gin you call ‘motivation’ and mustered up a startling amount of courage. I will be taking my leave for another coffee run now.”

You spun on the ball of your foot and started for the door. You barely had it open an inch when it was slammed back shut as Chan’s large hand splayed out over the dark surface, his arm by your head. You stepped to the side so you could turn to face him without bumping into him, fully intent on pushing him away, and the second you were facing him, his other hand slammed against the door. His head was hung low but the second he had you caged, he moved to look at you and you wanted to evaporate on the spot.

His expression was dark and seductive, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek in annoyance. When your gaze met his, your face heated up and you couldn’t maintain eye contact this time, your head turning. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re paid to do what I tell you.”

How was he doing this? He was normally just a sweetheart with a weird sense of humor. You’d seen fans online discussing him being a daddy dom type but you never put much stock into it. He seemed too normal. Yet here you were, trapped in his studio as his eyes devoured you like he was a starved man and you were the last crumb of food he could find.

“Look at me.” You refused, shaking your head. You feared you’d do something that could cost you your job if you so much as glanced in his direction. This only served to irritate him further and the hand that had initially slammed the door shut harshly gripped your jaw, forcing you to turn your head towards him. “I said look at me.”

You forced your eyes open against your better judgment and he smirked. You felt like you’d just opened a door you couldn’t hope to close as his strong hand wrapped around your neck. Your lashes fluttered at the way he held you against the door, your expression practically begging him to kiss you, and he almost scoffed at the pathetic sound you made. “What a whore.” He jeered and forcefully released you, stepping back. “Why don’t you go get that coffee, dearest?” His tone was scathing and it was obvious that he was playing some game of push and pull that you weren’t sure you wanted to be involved in.

You needed no further convincing, quickly slipping out of the room and skittering down the hallway like a kicked puppy. You repeatedly pressed the elevator call button until the doors slid open and the second they closed behind you, you braced yourself against the wall. Your chest heaved as your head tipped back, the sound of your labored breathing mingling with the occasional ding of the elevator signaling your descent. What the hell had just happened and why were you so worked up over it?

You took a few deep breaths as the elevator neared your desired floor, not wanting to be seen so flustered. You made your way to the little diner located on the ground floor of the building and went straight for the coffee bar. You made both your coffee and his absentmindedly, the memory of his expression bouncing around your skull and putting you in a daze. A trainee greeted you as he returned his dirty dishes and you gave a halfhearted response.

You practically jumped out of your skin when you felt a large hand on your shoulder, almost spilling the coffee you’d just fixed. “Hey, calm down. It’s just me. Are you okay?” You turned to see Lee Minho staring at you with clear concern. He’d just come from one of the practice rooms if the sheen of sweat on his gorgeous face was any indication.

“Uh- um- yeah I’m fine.” You lied, flashing him a smile. You were most definitely not fine. You weren’t sure if you were bothered by how wet you were or if you were bothered by how little time it took for Chan to get you that way, but you most definitely were not fine.

And it seemed Minho could tell. “Stop lying. What did he do to you?” He crossed his arms and you shook your head. He raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you but you still refused to answer. Finally he rolled his eyes and plucked Chan’s coffee from your hands. “Clearly he did something to upset you. I’ll go talk to him and-“

“No! No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You took the coffee back and forced a smile. “I’m kinda stuck here for the next five hours anyways.” His confused expression encouraged you to explain a bit more. “He told me he needs me here until ten every night until you guys start promoting. Said this comeback is different so he’s gonna need me to put in overtime.”

“That’s…utter bullshit, but okay.” He sighed and you nodded in agreement. “Sure, this one is different, we just gained a lot of popularity and it’s an extended album. But an extra five hours every night? That’s insane.”

“I mean, at least I’m getting paid time and a half for my efforts?” You shrugged, trying to find the positive. You’d already found the positive, one of the hottest men in the industry - possibly the world - had just propositioned you, but that wasn’t the point. You let out a sigh and shook your head. “It’ll be fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get this upstairs before it gets cold. It was nice seeing you.” You flashed a smile - genuine this time - and turned to leave, paying for the drinks on your way out.

Your reprieve was far too short and you found yourself moving slowly as you made your way back to the studio. The click of your heels wasn’t nearly as purposeful as before, your gait indicating you weren’t prepared to see him. Why would you be? He’d just pinned you to the door and toyed with you. Your boss of all people!

You tucked one of the drinks in your arm to free your hand and tapped on the door. He took longer to let you in this time but his expression was playful once more. “Which one’s mine?” He chirped as you walked past him, kicking your shoes off and taking your place on the sofa once more.

“Here.” You held out his drink and he took it eagerly, his expression akin to that of a child on Christmas morning. The man loved his coffee. “You’re such a kid.” You chuckled softly and shook your head as he sat down and spun the chair back towards his desk, sipping happily on his coffee.

You, being the coffee fiend you are, downed your drink in a matter of minutes. You disposed of the cup and just as you sat again, he called for you. “Something came unplugged under the desk. I’ll show you which one.” He said as he stood.

Seriously? In a pencil skirt? You stifled an irritated groan and slid off the couch, onto your knees. You crawled under the desk and looked for the cord he was wiggling. You didn’t catch him staring at your ass but if you’d looked over your shoulder, you would’ve seen him practically drooling. You followed the cord to the end and saw it was still plugged in but not very securely so you fixed it. But before you could crawl back out from under his desk, Chan trapped you once again. “You’re too tense. You should loosen up a little. Have some fun.” He leaned back in his chair and smirked at you.

“I have plenty of fun, thank you.” You spat and placed your hands on his knees, fully prepared to push him away from the desk. He quickly grabbed your wrists to stop you and you paused. Oh. He wasn’t just toying with you to work you up. He was an ornery bastard when he was horny, it seemed.

“So show me what it’s like to have fun with you.” He didn’t seem as intimidating as before. He looked far more relaxed despite the tent in his pants that stood right in front of your face. “Don’t worry about being left hanging, I’m eager to return the favor.” His expression darkened and you gulped. There it was. If he said one more word using that tone, you’d break. “I bet your moans would sound so pretty hidden in a track…”

You couldn’t keep your hands from moving. Despite his best efforts, neither could he, it seemed, because you broke free of his grasp and quickly popped the button of his dad jeans. That was another issue you had with him. He could wear some of the most questionable things and still look effortlessly sexy. Even the dad jeans looked amazing on him, clinging to his thighs in a way that made your mind go blank. You made quick work of the zipper too and looked up at him expectantly. This was not how you’d expected your overtime to be used.

He lifted his hips for you and a moment later his pants were around his knees. He hissed as you wrapped your hand around his dick and your mouth watered. He was perfect. A thick eight inches that just barely fit in your hand, the tip the same dusky shade of pink as his lips, which were parted in anticipation. You wondered if he’d be the first man to punch your cervix. Ah I’m getting ahead of myself.

“Look at me.” You parroted his words from before in a whisper, watching his jaw tick in annoyance at being told what to do as you tried not to let an evil grin take its place on your face. You couldn’t help it, you were irritated with him over how he’d handled things today. With his eyes locked on yours, you stuck your tongue out and teased the tip. He let out a sigh as your lips closed around the head, your tongue teasing the slit.

“Just like that, baby girl…” he groaned, his hands holding your hair back from your face as you hollowed your cheeks. The name sent a thrill through you and you let out a soft whine against him before taking him as far as you comfortably could, earning a choked sound. “Fuck, baby, slow down..” he rasped, his head falling back as his eyes drifted shut.

You refused, easing yourself further down and trying not to gag. That battle was lost when he gave a shallow thrust, the tip of his cock slipping down your throat. You swallowed several times to fight the gag but this only spurred him on, a series of low moans tumbling from his plump lips as he bucked his hips repeatedly. The sound scratched an itch in your brain you didn’t know existed.

You pulled off a moment later, much to his dismay, gasping for air as you jerked him off. Your throat was gonna hurt so bad by morning. His moans pitched up ever so slightly as you gave him a squeeze, his grip forcing you back down on his cock. It wasn’t very far, he seemed to have some semblance of pity on your abused throat. “Fuck, baby girl, you’re fucking amazing..”

The praise made you squirm, your thighs pressing together in a desperate attempt to get some sort of relief from the flood of arousal that washed over you. His words and the weight of his dick on your tongue were driving you up the wall in the best way possible. So you were visibly disappointed when he suddenly pulled you off. Damn your oral fixation. You let out a whine but he shushed you, his attention turning to the door.

“Wait.” He ordered and pushed his chair across the tiny room, reaching out for the door. You frowned as you watched him, your annoyance not fading even when you realized he hadn’t locked the door. He was remedying that but you were frustrated at losing contact. You still didn’t get your way even as he came back to you. “Get up.”

When you didn’t immediately move, he grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you from under the desk, forcing you to stand. He stood with you, kicking the chair aside as he untucked your plain white blouse and began undoing the buttons one by one. At least he had the decency to do that instead of ripping your clothes off like you wanted him to do. Your own hands went behind your back to unzip your skirt but he quickly took your wrists in his hands, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t I get to unwrap my own present?” You shuddered at his tone and nodded slightly, unable to meet his gaze. “Good girl.”

You whimpered at the name and watched a smirk settle on his face as he shoved your blouse down your arms and tossed it aside. He pulled you flush against him as his warm hands slid to your back. “Look at me.” You didn’t want to. You really didn’t want to. But your eyes met his almost instantly and his expression was smug as his fingers deftly unhooked your bra and tugged on the zipper of your skirt. In a matter of seconds, you were left in only your black thong.

A complaint at his lack of nakedness was forming on the tip of your tongue when he squeezed your ass, earning a soft gasp. He didn’t seem like someone with a lot of experience based solely on the fact he’d been in the industry for over a decade so he played by the rules and rarely left his studio. But the way his capable hands began to knead your ass before sliding up to squeeze your hips was telling you he’d had his fair share of late night rendezvous. He spun with you in his arms and gently pushed you down on the sofa, leaving you desperate for his touch as he whipped his shirt off and shimmied the rest of the way out of his pants. He knew exactly how to wind you up.

He was beautiful and it was hard not to stare, your eyes practically fucking him already. His low chuckle brought you back to yourself and your face heated up when he knelt in front of you. “Lean back.” Your body was now following every order as if on autopilot. You leaned back and let your head rest on the back of the couch, gasping when he snapped the waistband of your panties against your skin.

He didn’t pull them off just yet, much to your dismay, instead dragging a finger over the wet patch. He pushed your legs up so your heels rested just on the edge of the couch and began to trail sloppy kisses along the insides of your thighs. You felt his palms smoothing over the backs of your thighs before his thumb began tracing circles over your sopping pussy, his free hand kneading your ass once more. He continued to toy with you until he was satisfied with how strung out you were, finally pulling your panties to the side and blowing on you. You let out a shaky breath, eyes half-lidded as you met his gaze with anticipation.

When his tongue met your pussy, you let out a soft sigh. Finally. You bit your lip as he began to flick his tongue back and forth over your clit, further working you up until his lips encased the bundle of nerves and he sucked. You mewled at the sensation and your eyes slipped shut as your hands tangled in his hair. It was softer than you’d imagined considering all the bleach he’d endured. In the back of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t be doing this considering the power dynamic. He was your boss. But fuck he knew how to eat pussy.

Despite your eyes being squeezed shut, you were seeing stars. He was alternating between sucking on your clit and rolling his tongue against it in a way that made the fire under your skin burn even hotter. Your moans were high and breathy as you bucked against his face.

“Chan-“ your voice was a desperate moan as you called his name, squirming against him as his large, veiny hands held your hips in place. Your eyes flew open and you immediately looked down at him when he pulled away, a soft cry of protest slipping out before you could contain it. Why did he stop? His jaw ticked in annoyance and your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight as he stared up at you disdainfully. “Chan, why’d-“

“Daddy.” He corrected, his stern voice sending a tingle of pleasure down your spine. “When I’m fucking you, you don’t get to call me Chan. You call me daddy. Understood?” He swatted your thigh and you whimpered, nodding quickly. The implication that this wasn’t a one off event wasn’t missed and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth at the thought. He slapped your sensitive skin again when you didn’t speak up and your body jolted. “Words, baby girl. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, daddy…” you whispered and he flashed a mocking smile at you, just barely satisfied with your answer. He moved to dive back between your legs but you tugged at his hair to stop him, instinctively calling out his title. He looked back up at you and raised an eyebrow even as his lips reconnected with your sopping heat, repeatedly kissing there. He was making it damn near impossible to protest. “Please just fuck me, daddy..” you whined, barely able to get the words out due to him mouthing at your pussy.

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve had all night, baby.” He sneered, straightening himself and pulling your panties off. You barely had time to blink before your legs were resting on his shoulders as he stood on his knees. You tried to shimmy yourself down onto his cock but he pulled his hips back. “Tell me, babydoll, are you always this fucking desperate?” He taunted and you whimpered.

“Maybe, maybe not. I guess you’ll have to find out.” You huffed, not willing to give a straight answer. You didn’t think about the fact you’d just invited him to continue toying with you like this for the foreseeable future.

“I fully intend to. And I’m gonna see to it that your desperation is directed at me from here on. I’m going to own every cell of your body and you’re going to remember this for months. You’re going to dream about my hands all over your body and the way I fill you up just right. You’ll want to be nothing more than my possession. You’re going to enter this studio wondering when you can be mine again, on edge every time I look at you. And I’m going to toy with you like some sick game of cat and mouse every chance I get. So that the next time I touch you, you’ll fall apart at the seams and beg me to put you back together.”

Holy shit. His words were delivered in a tone so demeaning you felt like melting into the sofa as the fire under your skin seemed to reignite with a vengeance. You were lost for words but he didn’t give you a chance to form a coherent thought anyways. He was already shoving his cock into you, stretching and filling you in a way you’d never felt before. He was definitely going to be the first man to punch your cervix.

“Fucking hell, baby..” he groaned, his head falling back and giving you the perfect view of his jaw. You wanted nothing more than to suck hickeys into the column of his throat. His neck was just so thick and you wanted to bite him. “You’re so tight like this…” he praised, his head coming back down and turning just enough for his lips to meet your calves. It seemed your desire to bite was mutual because his teeth raked over your skin a moment later and you keened.

“Daddy, please-“ you begged, your voice merely a whisper. You didn’t know what you were begging for, you just knew you needed to beg for anything he’d give you. He didn’t give you a moment to adjust to his size, he simply set a torturously slow pace. The drag of his cock was almost unbearable with how deliberately slow he was being and you found yourself trying to meet his thrusts, needing more of the delicious sensation.

“Look at you, already begging like a good little slut.” You knew he was making fun of you but praise was praise even if it was backhanded and you couldn’t dream of stifling the moan he drew out. “Maybe you do know how to be a good girl instead of a dumb little fuck hole.” You wanted him to keep talking down to you and he seemed to know this. “I don’t hold much hope in that though. You can’t even string together a few words for me and I haven’t even started fucking you dumb yet.”

“Please do.” You moaned, jolting when he slapped your ass. He gave you a pointed glare and you realized your mistake. “Please fuck me dumb, daddy, I need it!” You wailed, grateful for the soundproof walls. If it weren’t for that, anyone left in the building would know exactly what Chan was doing to you.

The change in pace made your toes curl and you felt your whole body burning up from the inside. The way his dick abused your cervix was giving you delicious pangs of pain. Your back arched as he slammed into you and you let out a feeble cry when your shifting gave him the perfect angle. It was all downhill from there, Chan degrading you as you babbled on about how good it felt. You could feel the coil in the pit of your belly winding tighter with each thrust and you whimpered out some sort of warning but he slapped your ass, the harsh blow eliciting a soft cry. “I already told you to use your words.” His voice was far more strained than before as he hammered into you and you wondered just how close he was.

“Daddy, please- I’m so close- ‘m gonna cum, please lemme cum, daddy-“ you sobbed, tears you didn’t know you had finally spilling over. He didn’t speak, he simply held steady in his pace and took your hands in his. You felt so small and delicate when he did that, like he was afraid of breaking you while he guided you through your orgasm. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure crashed over you, your body shaking from the force of it. Your voice came out as a choked sob rather than a moan and you felt like you were ascending.

Chan didn’t ask where you wanted it, he couldn’t have hoped to last through your orgasm anyway with the way you squeezed him. His hips slowed as he let out a groan much higher-pitched than you’d anticipated. Your mind went as numb as your legs as his cum filled you to the brim, leaking out when he pulled out. You shuddered at the feeling and slumped back on the sofa, panting and trying to stop your tears. You wanted to cry harder when he let go of your hands.

Warm hands gently lowered your legs before wiping your cheeks. His touch was feather-light as he tried to dry your tears. It was a stark contrast to the way he’d just used you and it seemed to sooth you. You peeked out for only a moment before closing your eyes again when you saw how close he was. His lips met your forehead and you forced yourself to take a deep breath. “You’re such a good girl, y/n. You did amazing.” He whispered, his thumbs brushing back and forth over your cheekbones.

You felt him move away and opened your eyes, pouting at him. He gave a halfhearted laugh at your expression and pulled you towards him, moving so he was on the sofa and you were sat sideways on his lap. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he urged you to lean into him. You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately laying your head on his muscular shoulder and tucking your face in his neck. “Are you okay? That was pretty intense…”

You nodded and he let out a sigh of relief. “I like intense��” you mumbled against his neck. “I didn’t expect intense from you of all people but I liked it.” You assured him, definitely inflating his ego. But then you remembered something he said and you couldn’t stop the teasing smile that settled on your face. “Did you get everything you needed for the track?”

He laughed harder than you’d expected and tightened his arms around you. “Maybe, maybe not. I guess you’ll have to find out.” He copied your previous words in a playfully mocking tone. Basking in the afterglow with Chan was different from anything you’d ever experienced. He was so attentive and warm. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, your fingers tracing lines and shapes on his chest while he ran his veiny hands up and down your back, he spoke. “I hope you know I wasn’t just using you. That this wasn’t some sick power play.”

“I know.” You whispered, kissing his jaw. “I’ve worked with you long enough to know you’re not like that. If I’d genuinely not wanted to do this, things wouldn’t have changed. Maybe it would’ve been kinda awkward for the next couple of days after the whole ‘I could be your sugar daddy’ thing, but you know when to stop.” You let out a content sigh and pulled back to look up at him. “You were right though. I definitely am gonna be on edge every time I step in this studio.” You chuckled softly as you looked up at him.

“I just realized something.” He gave a huff of disdainful laughter as the thought hit him. For a moment you thought he was going to toy with you again but you realized quickly that he was mocking himself. “I did all that to you but didn’t even kiss those pretty lips.” His tone was far different from the disbelief that made itself known a moment before. He was bordering on coquettish as the playful gleam returned to his eyes, his lips curling into a half smile. Your cheeks flushed a soft pink at the blatant flirting and you whined as you ducked your head back into his neck but he pulled you back. “Can I?”

You gave the tiniest of nods, flustered once more by the switch in his personality. How was he so smooth in every situation? Every thought you had, fled your mind the second his lips touched yours. His hand tangled in your hair as he sucked gently on your bottom lip, drawing a soft gasp from you. No one had kissed you like that before. You were reluctant to let him break the kiss but he pressed his forehead to yours as you both caught your breath. Both of you wore tiny smiles as if you shared the biggest secret, his fingers lightly massaging your scalp as your breath mingled with his.

You were falling in love with your boss. It would be a mess of red tape later but for now, you’d just enjoy his affection.

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

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War prize

Summary: You get taken as a war prize once the barbarians take over your homeland.

Tw: nsfw, non - con, mentions of blood, slight corruption kink, size difference, slavery, deregatory language, degradation, possessive behavior, minor character death, spanking, mention of war

There is now part 2

Yoo guys, don’t worry if you voted for the other two options, I will write for them too soon enough. Anyways, enjoy.

You weren’t supposed to be here right now with your legs covered in heavy metal chains and a dirty cloth shoved up in your mouth. Your friends weren’t supposed to be either captured or dead. Your side wasn’t supposed to lose against the barbaric tribe. So many things weren’t supposed to happen tonight and you were slowly getting used to the fact that your supreme leaders had failed, the army had raised the white flag high and you were currently in the enemy territory with slim chances of escape, with absolutely no memories of how you got there in the first place.

You could hear his heavy prolonged footsteps, the way the sharp heel of his boot dug into the rich soil and stomped all over the daisies and weeds just like he had done with your own people hours ago. He was getting closer to the tent by the minute and his shadow was growing bigger and bigger until the soldier finally pulled back the curtain-like fabric to the side and entered the tiny space you were forced into.

He was very tall, unnaturally so, nothing like the men in your tribe who, despite being strong and capable, were born on the shorter side. His face was rough and raw, his features symmetrical and fierce in their cold perfection, deep charcoal eyes, dark lips and a straight nose. The knight fancied his long black hair free and wild, letting it fall against his muscular shoulders softly, shiny, silky and healthy. In these territories the warriors wore very little clothing, finding anything covering their chest or ankles to be too distracting and suffocating during a battle. You tried to look away from his half – naked form but his upper body was sweaty and smooth, caramel in color, making it hard to look at anything else. In return the male simply stared at you for a few moments, grinning in amusement or maybe even satisfaction, and kneeled down next to the mat you laid on.

“Hello, my little captive.” His voice was throaty and deep when he finally called out to you, a cunning smirk adorning his lips, giving him a sly foxy expression. The man reached out to cup your cheek and wipe away a tear slowly falling down, causing you to squirm away from his touch as if he held a hot iron against your face.

“Don’t touch me, you brute!” You shouted out before you had the chance to reconsider your poor choice of wording. The knight simply chuckled in respond and grabbed your hips roughly, making sure to dig his nails deep into the clothed skin before pulling you closer to his naked chest. You couldn’t help but turn red when forced to take in the warmth and firmness of his body – you had never been so close with a man before, much less your commune’s arch enemy.

“I will do so much more than that, sweet girl.” Raven whispered against your ear and kissed your neck softly, pulling your hair down so you would arch your back and whine miserably. “I won you fair and square, little slave.” He growled against your collarbone and bit down hard on the soft part of your throat. You couldn’t stand the hot wet sensations and you desperately wanted to get away from the warrior’s cruel grip, but you were helpless in your struggles, and even if you weren’t thoroughly tied up, you were still too scared to put up a fight against the barbaric male twice your size.

“You are so small and fragile, so vulnerable underneath me. I’ve always wanted something soft and pretty to warm my bed at night.” Raven admitted huskily as he tore apart your white satin robe, revealing your chest to the lingering glittering light coming from the gaslight above. Your pitiful whimpers were muffled by his lips slamming on yours and his wet slippery tongue forcing his way deep down your throat. The warrior was caressing your bosom, squeezing and fondling at it shamelessly, pinching and licking your nipples until they stood at attention red and swollen like cherries. “Such a pretty little slut, tied down at my mercy.” The knight moaned and slapped your breast lightly, enjoying the sheer look of horror on your beautiful face, twisted in panic. “I’m gonna make your tits bounce while I take you like a bitch in heat.” The man mumbled sadistically and slapped your other breast, this time using more force. “ I’m gonna make you my whore.” He cursed under his breath and lowered his head to suck on your neck once again.

Soon Raven got bored of playing with your tits and moved on to spread your legs wide open, pulling your panties down to your ankles. The sight of your sweet tight pussy exposed and displayed so wantonly was mouth-watering to the barbarian, and he could already feel his member harden painfully against your slit. You pleaded silently with your eyes to be spared, muttering quiet pleas, “no’s”, sobbing and clutching to the last bit of hope for mercy. Unfortunately, the warrior couldn’t hear a word, too fascinated by your luscious body and his own wild hunger.

“My beautiful little prize, all mine.” The man whispered almost affectionately, kissing you nice and slow this time, with his throbbing erection pressed on your entrance, inches away from your untouched virgin hole. “I saw you earlier today while you were tending to your parents’ wounds, pet.” He spoke suddenly, his length teasing your folds by slowly sliding in between your soft thighs. “You looked so precious in your desperate attempt to save them during the final fight.” The warrior continued, one hand coming up to stroke your hair in a sick yet comforting manner. “A sweet little thing like you shouldn’t be on the battlefield.” Raven kept going while rubbing slow circles on the palm he had forced you to open when you were clenching your fist tight. “You look so much better by my side, pretty girl.” The soldier placed a small peck on your temple, the lingering gentleness of his actions and the cruelty of his words making you sick to your core. You felt tired and overwhelmed yet the worst was still in store.

“I will tell you a little secret, slave.” The dark-haired male snarled at you and raised your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his cold black eyes. “I killed your father and took you all for myself.” He confessed in a low vicious voice, his scarred fingers tightening around your throat. The wet fury in your heart tangled together with the pain and grief of your loss, but the deadly grip around your neck forced you in place, still and lifeless like a doll. You wished you were dead just like your family so you wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation of entertaining the enemy and his twisted desired any longer. “Now I am going to steal your innocence and make you mine, little bird.” Your face froze in terror and agony, having realized that, by the end of his words, the man had already pushed his manhood into your tight heat, piercing through your body, unprepared for the shock and the pain. “Sing for me, slave.” The barbarian hissed under his breath and moved roughly in and out of you, each new thrust sharper and deeper than the last one. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken down so easily, but you needed a way to cope with the harsh reality, so you cried out for him. You chocked on your pitiful sobs, screamed in pain and whimpered miserably just to survive another second of this meaningless torture.

Raven looked ecstatic, enticed by your lovely moans and whines, your sweet despair delicious on his tongue while he claimed your lips and explored your throat. Your tight pussy squeezed hard on his length, milking every bit of pleasure out of it. His eyes were blacker than the night sky, filled with lust and thirst for blood, unquenched even after hours of slaying the innocent souls determined to protect their land. Laying down on the cold ground, sweaty, violated and stripped of your pride, you wondered whether you were just another conquest to the warrior, perhaps ruining your purity was his way of proving that he and his people were the new rulers of the territory.

“What a sweet little virgin you were, and now you are bleeding on my cock while I take you, pet.” The barbarian cooed at you cruelly, choking you lightly, not tight enough to put your life in danger, but enough to keep you motionless and complacent, just a hole for him to fuck into. “I am going to cum in your cunt now, slave, and you are going to stay there and take it.” The man announced sternly and kept shoving his manhood down your channel roughly, pounding into you relentlessly until he came with a growl and released his seed deep inside you, painting your walls white. Your pussy felt raw and puffy, pulsating in pain around the cock still buried in. He wasn’t pulling out of you.

“Oh, little bird, did you really think that I would be satisfied with having you just once?” Raven taunted you gleefully, a sadistic gleam in his dark eyes as he took in the panic on your face, drinking it like a glass of honey mead. “I fought for you after all, precious.” The warrior muttered slowly, mere inches away from your swollen lips, bruised and red from all the biting and rough kisses. “I am going to savor you little by little.” He paused to catch your gaze and held it for a moment too long before focusing on your mouth again.

“You’re mine now, don’t you ever forget it.”

#yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere smut #male yandere #yancore #yandere oc #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompt

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tteokdoroki · 3 years

Text

waves that hurt | k.bakugou + i.midoriya.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x gn!reader x izuku midoriya.

♡ word count: 3.04K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, hurt, angst and comfort.

♡ summary: dark days mean dark waves that crash across your mind, intrusive and mean the waves pull you under— but they are the helping hands that pull you up and let you breathe.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy tw for depression, intrusive thoughts and self depreciation, self doubt and low self-worth. this fic is written mostly from personal experiences and may not be accurate to how everyone feels! mentions of therapy.

♡ author’s note(s): this is my contribution to @doinmybesthere ‘s mental health awareness collab, this is kinda personal to me and something i experienced recently!! i hope it can provide some comfort to anyone out there, please don’t forget to check out everyone else’s works and i hope you’re all safe ‘n well <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

“kacchan, it’s much worse this time, i really think you should come home early tonight.”

deku whispers into the phone, his marred hands rub slow and soothing circles into your back from over the duvet— you can feel his warmth, light and airy through it but he feels and sounds much further away. a million miles across a dark ocean that trickles through your thoughts, intrusive and mean, keeping you under and away from clear air.

you wouldn’t want to pull him into this, bother him with the way you drown in dark thoughts— so you pull away from your boyfriend and tuck yourself away into the sheets.

izuku doesn’t retract his hand even as you pull away, listening to katsuki grunt orders down the phone— make sure yn’s eaten, make sure yn’s had water. basic things you should be able to do on your own but can’t, paralysed by the anxiety and depression that clamps down on you like a vice and refuses to let you up so you can just breathe. you want to breathe and not feel like the world is crashing down on you, to have a second to yourself where everything seems like it’s okay.

brushing fingers over the nape of your neck, toying with the coils of your baby hairs, your boyfriend speaks, only gently. “baby,” says quietly, his weight causing the bed to dip. “katsuki will be home soon, do you want to come with me to let him in?” you shrug, a sick feeling twisting in your gut. you see the black tendrils and waves in the back of your mind, bringing forth a new batch of ugly words that force you down. are you really that much of a burden these days that katsuki has to call it quits on work for you? “how are you feeling?”

you don’t know, you don’t know how to tell him that every thought you have hurts and there’s a pain in your chest with every breath you take. “i don’t know, it’s just...bad izu…” you want to explain how you feel deep inside, but the words are trapped like balls of tar in your throat— fear that if you say something he’ll walk away.

“you don’t have to say anything, don’t force yourself to…” he speaks with a soft voice, cotton to your ears in an attempt to soothe you. you can just about feel the clean air flowing through your lungs at the sound— it tells you he loves you, no matter what and you almost believe it before sinking back under. “let’s get you some water okay? wouldn’t want kacchan scolding us would we?”

the joke hangs in the murky and heavy air for a few seconds before you muster a small smile— your green haired boyfriend lets out a tiny sigh of relief and pressed a kiss into your hairline, the affection simmers under your skin and briefly brings light to your dark mind as izuku starts leading you to the kitchen.

you’re curled up in izuku’s lap when the front door pops open with a click— signifying your other boyfriend had arrived home. you flinch, hiding yourself in the blankets keeping you warm and locking away the dark thoughts from the eyes of your lovers.

part of you hated them seeing you this way, that’s why you forced yourself to keep everything away from them— but they knew, they always did and always came to your rescue. you didn’t want them to feel like they had to look after you when the days were bad and draining and your mind took hold of everything that you felt. you didn’t need the weight of your own problems on the shoulders of two pro heroes who had enough to deal with.

in the end, you would destroy them like you did with yourself.

you can hear katsuki shedding his gear by the door, feeling his intense and heated presence flood the room and barely penetrate the barrier you created for yourself even while you lay in izuku’s arms. for as long as you’d known the two— even from back in your U.A days, bakugou had hated self-pity, of course in recent years he’d cooled down a little and spoke less on the actions of others but even still, you weren’t sure if you could handle him looking down on you for looking down on yourself and for feeling this way.

the blanket is suddenly lifted from your head, momentarily blinding you with the overwhelming light that is your boyfriend, katsuki bakugou. a twinkle of concern lines his ruby eyes and you can see traces of his charcoal eyeliner that he usually smudges underneath his mask— he’s so beautiful but you’re afraid of the twitches of worry, afraid that he’s mad at you for being the way you are.

“hey honey,” bakugou hums, crouching to your level to cup your cheeks, stress bleeding from his body when you nuzzle into him.

izuku gives you a squeeze, an encouraging one and you nod. “hi,” is all you can muster, afraid of blurting the intrusive words that crackle across your brain.

katsuki sits back on his haunches, looking between you and his boyfriend before he attempts to kick off his shoes. the room is full of a thick, ugly quietness that you know you’re responsible for— they don’t have to say anything, you know that it’s you. because when you’re like this it’s hard for bakugou and midoriya to talk, afraid that they’ll say something to set you off and you afraid that they’ll leave if they knew how you really felt. how trapped and alone you felt inside, how the twisted darkness added tones to your vibes and dragged you down with every step that you took.

they don’t need to say it because it flows from your body like a rushing river and drowns them, fills their lungs and it’s your fault for infecting them with your own bitter taste of life.

“have you eaten?” the blonde of the two boys asks, looking you dead in the eye. you want to answer, but again the viscous back from earlier starts to flood through your body. you try to take care of yourself of these days where you feel it the hardest, but it’s difficult to move and to breathe— and the drive to complete even the simplest of tasks is barely ever there.

you move to speak, caught up in the thick smog of your own brain when izuku gives your body a squeeze and shakes his head, the forest of his hair brushing against your cheek. “you’ve had water, right?” izuku has no problem answering for you. “but nothing to eat,” he whispers, keeping his voice low as if to hide his worry from you— it’s light in his tone but tremors throughout the number one’s body. you feel sick for making him feel that way.

katsuki’s gaze shifts back from his boyfriend to you, his expression unreadable because he knows how you get if they worry too much about you. you’re thankful, partly for that at least, his blank face prevents your mind from reading too deep into things and blaming yourself for things out of your own control.

“‘m makin’ your favourite for dinner. you’ll eat it, no questions asked.” the explosive pro hero states firmly, rising from his place crouched down by your side, obviously not before thumbing over your cheeks to wipe away evidence of your dried tears. “gonna run you a bath too, damn nerd better get you upstairs and ready by the time it’s done.” deku’s chest rumbles with a light hearted chuckle beneath you, lifting the heavy weight of the air within the room— bakugou had always loved brashly, with a fiery intensity that hardly left room for the answer ‘no’, and while izuku was more tame, they balanced one another out in a way that felt more like a warm hug than a battle. they grounded you, in the best of ways.

true to his disgruntled words, your blonde headed boyfriend runs you a hot bath. you don’t miss the addition of lavender oil to the perfectly warm water, the baking soda which you’re sure he only knew to add because his mother had said it would remove the demon spawn toxins in his body. izuku is the one to help you strip, holds your hands as you kick off gross comfort clothes and folds them away, after pressing kisses to your groggy face and chin.

it’s almost funny to see the two biggest and beefiest pro heroes sit on your bathroom floor crossed legged and beside the tub— both of them taking up the majority of the room. you know for a fact that no one would believe the sight unless they saw it, but they’re there. both of them, izuku midoriya and bakugou katsuki are with you encompassed in the silence while you wash away the ugly words that plague your mind and fill the pores of your skin.

they’re still there.

even as sweet lavender water moves in soft waves over your bare body, while black ink moves in the same way across your brain— tattooing self-depreciating thoughts into every inch. you’re not worth their time, they say, you’re wasting it. because how could their precious time be put to good use if you’re taking it up, they could be saving people but instead your boyfriends are here, drowning in your own darkness.

they’re still fucking here.

when they could be out there saving the people who needed it, who were suffering out there in the world outside of your home.

and the suds against your body, the warm water sloshing over your thighs isn’t enough to get rid of the burning sensation of vile phrases printing themselves against your body and clouding every thought that you think. toxic, mean and nasty things you can’t scrub away— none of it is enough to make you feel like you deserve bakugou tenderly lathering you up with the rose scented soap his mother had sent you for christmas or the sips of cool water midoriya brings to your lips in order to prevent you from overheating in the steam of the bathroom.

deku catches the painful twist in your face, pausing his movements to study you. “whaddya need?” you need it to stop, to find something to replace the pain and doubts that fill you.

“water, hotter,” you croak quietly, tears building up in the base of your throat as katsuki catches on and flicks the tap for a stream of hot water to fill the tub. “please,”

they tell you to let them know when to stop if the heat gets too much, but the scalding water burns away any reminders of the self loathing you feel across every inch of your mind, your body and your soul. it stings at the darkness in a way that’s painfully soothing and maybe if you sink under— it could stop hurting completely. if you could slide deeper into the water, would the waves of darkness not crash so hard?

and then the damn breaks, like a tsunami the guilt and anguish you feel crashes over your body and takes control, leaving you fighting for oxygen in the form of your happiness.

everything that you’d been holding back flows freely in salty tears from tired eyes, scorching a path down the apples of your cheeks and mingling with the contents of the tub below. your boys, they don’t notice at first, how you cry and curl in on yourself until you think the world won’t notice you anymore but then just as they always do, they’re pulling you into their warmth and bubble of light— freeing you from black intrusive tendrils even if it means they have to crawl into the tub and wade their through the ocean you’ve made to set yourselves apart.

“don’t—!” you heave with an uneven voice, signs of you falling apart evident in every way. bakugou and deku pull away from you slowly, with dripping shirts and worry written across freckled faces and red eyes. they’re scared for you, hate seeing you force your feelings down and away from them. “please don’t touch me—you’ll—“

the water in the bathtub sloshes from where you retract from their touch, backing yourself up against the wall and away from your boys. “we’ll what?” izuku presses but only gently, keeping you afloat, stopping you from sinking and bakugou stays put in his place, letting the latter talk you down.

you shake your head, trying to think of the right words but it’s hard to, with the crashing waves heavy against your ears. how do you tell your lovers that everything hurts, to think and to feel, to live day by day. you don’t want to bother them with and an extra stress to their busy lives. but you can’t keep it in any longer, bursting at the seams. “you’ll drown. i-if i touch you, i’ll pull you under, you’ll drown with me and you won’t be able to breathe and all those horrible things that i think about will burn in your lungs until you give up fighting like me,” your tears and hiccups interrupt your words, but they listen. bakugou and deku, they listen and they stay.

“yn—“

“because if you do, then all that i feel will be a burden to you— i’ll break in ways that can’t be fixed and you’ll be forced to pick up the pieces and i’ll just be a burden,” you continue, not even pausing to take a breath while you continue to cry. “if you stay to pick up the pieces, you’ll be taken away from people who need you, who are worth saving, and can be helped and—“

you can’t recount how many nights, similar to this in which you wondered why and how two pro heroes could want and love you, why they dealt with your down days that sometimes outnumbered the ups— even if they’d shown you how much they cared, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as if your sadness took up their time to save someone else.

“you can be helped, yn. you don’t have to go what you’re going through alone, you’re worth the time and the effort of helping, no one deserves to suffer,” the green haired of your two boyfriends cuts through the tail ends of your words, still keeping distance until he knows it’s safe to touch you again. there is no look of condescending pity on his face, no sign to show you’ve pulled him into the dark of your mind. it’s just izuku, trying to help you pull through.

you look to katsuki hesitantly, he hasn’t said a word. “but i don’t want to be seen as...as weak, or to worry you because i can’t get out of my own head—“

“y’not fuckin’ weak, we’d never think that of you. we see you try to hide your pain, pretend things don’t get to you when they do. but fuckin’ handlin’ things on ya own can make y’stronger than any two heroes combined,” a look of anger flashes across his features, finer with age and tired with work. but bakugou isn’t angry with you, but with himself for leading you to believe that you were an extra weight on his shoulders. both of their shoulders. “yer not gonna get rid of us or scare us away, we love ya, we’re here for ya ‘n if it’s help that you need or think yer not worthy of, we’ll find some. it’s okay t’ask for help.”

maybe it’s hearing it from someone else, that your pain and your depression is valid, that you’re not an extra weight on the people you love that allows you to come up from a tar-like ocean for fresh air in your lungs, for the waves to calm and the storm raging in your mind to soothe. maybe it’s the two of your boyfriends being there for you despite the fear that you’d scare them away with not being okay that washes away some of the awful things you think.

you know that their support won’t make things go away over night, that it will take time for you to heal but for now you can keep your head above the water just long enough to breathe.

“can i touch you now? is it okay?” deku asks, feeling less distant from you than at the start of the day, but as your body shakes with the last of your tears all you manage is a nod before the number one hero is pulling you into his chest from the tub and the number two is wrapping a towel and his arms around you.

you sit sandwiched between the two, they keep you at the surface— holding you tight while you let out what you’ve been holding back. “we can get some help if y’want it, the doctors...therapy might be nerve wrackin’...scary even, but it can help and we’ll be there every single step of the fuckin’ way,” katsuki reasures you with pets to your head, rocking you back and forth on your bathroom floor, steam clinging to the air that you can finally breathe.

izuku nods along in agreement, pressing kisses to your wet hairline. “we’ll be here. you won’t be alone.”

the murkiness of the water in your mind starts to clear, but only just— their warmth starts to push through the clouds like sunshine brushing against your skin. a light to the dark that's plagued your every waking moment, the waves no longer crash and destroy but instead lap comfortingly at your painful thoughts and tame them just enough for you to have a moment of clarity.

you don’t have to be alone or millions of miles away, you deserve the hands of your loved ones that offer you help instead of pushing them away. the process of healing and things like therapy or meds will be hard sometimes, but katsuki and izuku will be here by your side, to help you manage days where darkness rolls in waves that hurt and help you breathe once again.

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