#identity v skin leaks

[torasplanet]

❝𝙄𝙁 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝘼𝙉𝙏 𝘼 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿 𝘽𝙊𝙔 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿𝘽𝙔𝙀.ᐟ❞

A. ARLERT + F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; you think armin's the sweetest boy on campus until you learn he's just like his stupid frat boy friends but it still doesn't drive you away from him. if anything it draws you closer.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; smut, toxic!armin, college au, armin is lowkey a gaslighter, drinking, smoking, weed, degradation, praise, slut-shaming, false rumors, scumbag!eren, scumbag!connie mention of historia x ymir, couch sex, oral(m receiving), p in v, recording, mean!armin, orgasm denial, unprotected, relations between jean and reader hinted, arguing, gaslighting ig??, crying, dacryphilia, kinda manipulation, petnames(pretty, baby, slut), threat of leaking nudes, mirror sex??, kinda messy so don't mind if ur confused, skin color not mentioned

Armin Arlert was probably the sweetest boy on the entire college campus.

It was weird that he hung out with all the jerk frat boys like Connie, Eren, and Reiner despite his good reputation but anytime anyone asked, he’d tell them that they were childhood friends and they understood. You can’t really just ditch someone you’ve known since childhood over some stupid choice of the type of person they are in college so no matter who Armin associated himself with, everyone always saw him as the sweet little blonde who was a bookworm and cared about his grades more than anything.

Well, everyone that didn’t really know him thought that. All the people who were close to Armin knew that he wasn’t any of that, not anymore at least. Yes, Armin was kinder than any of them but he wasn’t a sweetheart. Just as Eren and Connie would meet up to smoke and talk about all the girls they fucked, Armin would be right next to them laughing evilly and rolling blunts, not that he let anyone know it. It was much easier for Armin to let people believe that false perception of him being innocent and an angel than being just like Eren, made it easier to get girls too.

You were one of the few people who knew this and at first, it freaked you out but you learned to adjust to it and you were right on his lap whenever he was with his frat boy friends lighting the blunt between his lips like the good girl you wanted to be for him, the good boy that just wasn’t as good as everyone thought he was.

But there’s always a part in you that wish you knew all of this before you truly got to know Armin or at least got to know it in a different way…not after being labeled campus slut by him and his stupid fucking frat friends.

It started off so simple, you just saw Armin at a party, one of Connie’s parties, and thought he looked cuter than ever and plus he had helped you on one of your tests before so you did owe him a bunch.

“Oh shit! Fuck!” Armin shouted leaning back on his palms and throwing his head back making his blonde strands fly everywhere, the blonde strands were identical to the bush on his pelvis that your nose was planted in except for the curliness of his pubes. Your hands held onto his thighs to support yourself as you continued to stare up at him through your lashes with his cock stuffed in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat each time you bobbed your head making you gag.

His blue eyes darted down to meet yours as redness flushed the color of his face. It didn’t matter how badly Armin acted behind the scenes or what he said, there would always be moments where he was just so submissive especially when he was getting the best head he’d ever gotten in a while “Don’t look at me like that.” He whimpered out embarrassedly closing his eyes not wanting to look at you as it made him more flustered than he was.

Armin would never say this, well not to your face but from the moment you walked up to him at that party, he thought you were a slut. The way you looked at him, how you talked, that filthy fucking smile on your face, it just told him that you wanted him to fuck you or at least wanted dick from him in any way you could get it.

Wasn’t like he was really surprised though, he’s heard the shit that you’ve done. Fucking Jean, fucking Connie and this one was probably false but the fact that the rumor even existed in the first place, gave Armin reasons to believe you were a grade-A slut. He knew how girls talked and how they would especially go out of their way to say bad shit about girls they didn’t like but Connie would say how it was true a lot so he kind of believed it. Armin thought you were too pretty to be such a slut. Well, a campus slut anyway.

“Fuck pretty…gonna make me cum…” Armin’s moans were so gorgeous, just like you thought they would be. As Armin got closer to the edge, he pulled out of your mouth and sprayed his cum all over your face making sure you closed your eyes before he did it so you wouldn’t get any in your eye. He admired the look of your lovely face covered in the leftovers of his orgasm and smiled sweetly down at you.

The cum that landed on the tip of your tongue tasted so sweet, it was only right that a boy as sweet as him has a sweet taste too. You’ve thought about what it’d taste like for almost forever but maybe you should’ve thought way more about it because just because someone’s cum tastes nice doesn’t mean they are.

Unfortunately, you weren’t going to get this until a few days later when girls started looking at you like you were walking around naked and so were the guys but you really wouldn’t get what was going on until Hitch told you.

Connie and Reiner were going around telling everyone how you blew Armin at the party and had to go to the bathroom to wipe the remains of it off your face and you didn’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time those guys have told people you fucked someone whether you did or didn’t but it only really did start to bother you when Armin didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything to you regarding the situation, he didn’t tell people to stop talking about it in the class you two shared, and he merely chuckled when he heard a girl call you the frat slut and mention how you probably have made your way around the entire frat house.

That pissed you off.

You knew it was true that you had sucked off Armin and you can’t really say much when it’s the truth being whispered into everyone’s ears behind your back and right in front of your face but when everyone was constantly insulting you, you at least expected Armin the sweetheart, Armin the kindest boy ever to say something to them or at least his friends for spreading it around. Why the fuck did he even tell them in the first place because no one saw you two leave that room and no one saw you go in the room with him, only walking up the stairs.

Fuck what everyone said about Armin being nice, about Armin being kind, about Armin being the sweetest boy ever because he was not. Nice boys don’t kiss and tell, nice boys don’t let people insult you when he wanted his dick sucked just as much as you wanted to suck it and Nice boys certainly don’t let their friends tell the whole fucking world and their mama that you sucked their dick once at a party.

Armin was not a nice boy and he wasn’t going to just get away with that shit without you saying a damn word and if he thought he would, he was fucking stupid. I mean he saw what you did to Connie after you heard he was agreeing with the false rumor, he even winced when you slapped the shit out of his friend and commented on how red Connie’s cheek was. If he thought you weren’t going to do that to him because he was ‘nice’, he wasn’t as smart as everyone perceived him to be.

But even with these feelings, you had a hard time going up to him during classes or whenever you saw him really and confronting him. Armin was always around people, people who would label you as the problem if you came up to the blonde and started to yell at him about something no one saw as his fault and that just made your hatred for him burn like a house fire inside of you.

You didn’t want to see his stupid face. You didn’t want to hear his name. You didn’t want to be anywhere near him at all! Nor did you want to be around the loudmouths that started the gossiping of your sex life and made it public.

So a few weeks after all of this, you decided to skip out on one of Connie’s parties and stay inside. You didn’t get how he could host parties practically every week, he was really trying to live those 2000’s romance movies that display college kids as people who party every night but then again, those movies weren’t exactly false because you ended up going anyway.

Not by choice, of course, your dorm roommate and friend, Historia had convinced you to come because she wanted someone to go with her to this party. You didn’t even know why she wanted to go so badly, the best idea you had was that it was because of this new girl, Ymir, she was talking to but that still did not give her any reason to shove you in the back of her car and throw a dress and pair of heels along with you.

“Stop complaining! It won’t be that bad, I’m sure you won’t even see him.” Historia reassured looking back at you through the rearview mirror as you applied mascara to your eyelashes using the camera of your phone to help you. How dumb did this Ymir girl make Historia? Of course, you’d end up seeing Armin. It was Connie’s party after all and he was bound to make himself known to everyone and probably including his ‘best buddies’ in it too.

A scoff left your lips as you rapidly blinked your lashes “Even if I don’t see him, I’ll see the others and they’ll probably be worse and actually talk.” If you ran into Eren, Connie, or Reiner, they’d definitely comment on what they had told everyone and add a snarky insult about if they could be next. The only one that possibly wouldn’t say anything like that was Jean and that was why he was the only one out of them except for Armin that you actually fucked.

“Yeah, all they do is talk. You know that (Y/n)...” The blonde woman said in an attempt to reassure you and to some degree, it did work. She was right.

All they did was talk, that was their whole thing but at the same time, their talking was the same reason why you were in this predicament in the first place. Fuck it, if they did start talking, you could always resort to throwing a drink in their face and laughing in Eren’s face as he yelled about his precious hair getting all wet.

Historia looked at you again noticing your lack of reply and you were already looking at her. As if she could read your mind, she smiled and looked away speaking simple words “Just don’t cause a scene, please? I really wanna have a good time tonight.” A wide grin stretched across your face making your lip gloss shine in the moonlight that peeked through the windows of the car and onto your body.

“With Ymir?” The blonde’s face went red at the mention of the brunette and her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly “Shut it! I bet if Jean’s here you’ll have a good time with him.” You would’ve laughed if you didn’t get embarrassed at her mention of Jean. He was a good guy, don’t get me wrong but you didn’t want that.

You didn’t know why you didn’t like that but it’s not something you wanted. There was a reason majority of the guys you’ve loved or had sex with were usually frat boys or just general dickheads, whether you knew it or not. You had no idea how you managed to snag someone like Jean, such a sweet guy. You almost thought that with Armin too until you figured out what was really going on.

But even with him being a sweet guy, you still wouldn’t have a good time with him, probably wouldn’t have a time at all. Not after he’s listened to his friends say how they’ve fucked you, the only one that was missing was Reiner. Eren couldn’t say he fucked you or you gave him head or anything because he only fingered you which didn’t really count plus you were pretty sure he and Mikasa had a thing going on so him bragging and telling everyone about some small shit like that was not do him any favors.

Thinking about what Jean must be hearing from his friends made you realize how much of a slut you were. But it wasn’t your fault that all the hot guys in college happened to be friends and frat guys…it wasn’t your fault either that they were all jerks! So there should be no criticism against her still thinking Armin was cute even after figuring out that the kind personality was just a facade.

I mean, it’s not like he took off a mask and revealed an entire different face right?

But just because you still thought he was good-looking didn’t mean you weren’t still upset about his blabbermouth.

So when you stepped into the house and the first thing you saw was Armin, Eren, and Connie all talking near the staircase while passing around a blunt, you audibly groaned loudly probably loud enough for them to hear. You wanted to burn the whole house down as soon as your eyes landed on their forms watching as they laughed about something that was probably stupid.

But…Historia asked you to not make a scene and you were going to respect what she wanted because just because you were all sad and upset. And a little pent-up if we were being completely honest. Though…you couldn’t sit at this party and not say anything to that blonde fuck.

Once Historia left, you made your way over to the three boys who had caught on to your sudden presence at the party just a bit after you started to go toward them “Woah, looks like she can’t get enough of you, man.” Connie said nudging Armin with his elbow as he took a drag from the blunt, Eren let out a small chuckle at this.

You stood in front of the three men just glaring daggers at Armin “What’s up?” Armin asked as if he hadn’t done anything wrong at all and it pissed you off more “What’s up is that we need to talk.” You got nothing in return but laughs coming from Connie and Eren who were making eye contact obviously thinking about something dirty.

“Like you talked all on his dick?” Connie asked between his laughs while passing the blunt to Armin who just stood there with a smile on his face looking as though he was resisting the urge to burst out laughing right in your face. You took notice of the cup in his hand and quickly made the decision to flip it spilling the alcohol all over his white tee.

“What the fuck (y/n)!?” Connie shouted a frown appearing on his face real quick as he looked down at the large stain on his shirt “You know what the fuck springer.” You said quickly as you grabbed Armin’s wrist and dragged him away from his friends hearing one of them call you a bitch on your way.

You didn’t look back at Armin to see what his face looked like as you dragged him to the nearest room to talk which happened to be a bathroom, he didn’t say anything as you two walked and he was probably still smoking. You wished you knew what Armin thought of you, if he had any empathetic thoughts toward you, or if he didn’t care at all.

It’s hard to know the answer to something like that when the person in question is a fucking liar. Though he never said to anyone that he was nice, that he was the kindest person in the world, he never stopped anyone from thinking that. He sure as hell didn’t stop you from thinking that when your face was coated in his cum.

“If you’re trying to distance yourself from that whole campus slut thing, taking me into a bathroom isn’t the best idea,” Armin said leaning against the wall and closing the bathroom door with his foot. At least he wasn’t going to pretend like he was that innocent little blonde when you two were talking alone, he respected you that much not to lie to your face when you both know what happened.

“You were the one that made everyone believe I’m a campus slut!” You said glaring at him your hands balled into fists. You didn’t know if you were upset about the fact that he was looking at you without a care in the world in those bright blue swirls that were his eyes while putting the blunt to his lips and letting the smoke escape through his nostrils or what he said the moment you two made it into this bathroom.

Armin looked down at the blunt as he removed it from in between his soft pink lips “No? I didn’t tell people that.” Well, you might as well throw that whole ‘respect’ thing out the window because he was acting like he didn’t know what he did. His lingering stare on your body made a million thoughts run through your head as you tried to find a way to respond that wouldn’t be socking him in his shit right now.

“But you told Connie and Eren that when you didn’t have to.” Armin simply shrugged as he met your eyes once more leaning his hip against the sink counter and planting his hand on the surface to support himself “I didn’t know they were going to say anything.” He said.

This pissed you off way more than you thought it would. Mainly because of his tone. He didn’t even sound like he was lying at all, he sounded as though he was telling the truth and you knew he wasn’t. It was fucking scary. “Yes, you did! They’re your friends and you know all the shit they’ve said about me.” You shouted at him while Armin just stared down at you. Anyone who was around the bathroom could definitely hear you yelling at him.

“Why are you mad at me? Connie’s the one that said all that shit, not me.” Yeah, he may have been right. He didn’t say anything but he still didn’t say shit when Connie started blabbering his mouth about you and Armin and he’s the reason why Connie had something to say in the first place. He knew how Connie and Eren were with anything that someone told them and he still said something when he didn’t have to.

Armin was pissing you off to a crazy extent but you didn’t say anything, you just stared at him. It was slutty and sick of you to be thinking about how hot he looked right now with the smoke blowing from between his lips while he was fucking with your head trying to make it seem like you had no right to be mad at him. “And it’s not exactly like they’re wrong about you being the slut…” You didn’t say anything and just continued to stare at him waiting for him to keep talking.

“You fucked Jean, fucked Connie and me…who knows who’s next? Reiner?” Armin said throwing one finger up with every name that left his mouth with a teasing smile reappearing on his face before placing the blunt to his lips and exhaling the smoke in your face making sure you knew that he didn’t give a fuck.

“I never fucked that short bitch Connie!” Armin let out a laugh leaning his head back against the wall, he clearly didn’t give a fuck but he didn’t have to laugh in your face making it clear that he also didn’t take you seriously at all “Still fucked Jean and gave me head. Not like anyone will believe that you didn’t fuck Connie with a reputation like that.” Armin said rubbing the back of his neck and looking down at you as if he was sorry that you had to deal with that but you knew he wasn’t. He was just trying to fucking play with your head.

It was working.

Looking at him through your mascara-coated lashes, you wondered if he believed that shit like everyone else did. If Connie told him the truth about nothing happening. Did he at least have the common decency to know his friend was lying?

You wished that Armin was that sweet boy you thought he was but then again you can’t say that because you were still thinking about how cute he was and what he thought of you even when knowing how he truthfully was. Pathetic. “Do you believe that?” You asked your voice lower than it was before looking away from Armin not wanting to see whatever mocking look he was giving you, it’d make you feel even more pathetic.

His white and blue Jordans came into your view blocking your gaze on the tile bathroom floor “Why would I tell you that? It’ll ruin the game.” Armin said mockingly soft. Game? Did he think all of this shit was a game? Something to entertain him? Why didn’t you realize this from the start of this conversation?

Because you were blinded by him that’s why and that’s probably what made it fun for him. Armin knew he was fucking with your head and he was probably smiling at you because of it.

“This isn’t a game. If it is, it’s not fucking fun.” You said looking back up at him with your brows furrowing in anger. Your hands plant themselves on his chest and push him back away from you, it didn’t seem to phase him at all and in fact he just smiled doubling down to walk even closer to you.

“We can make it fun,” Armin said with a smirk on his face and you wanted to say ‘fuck no’, you wanted to leave, you wanted to hit him but you didn’t because you didn’t really want to. You wanted to know how he was going to make it fun even though you already had an idea of what he was talking about and it was an idea that you weren’t opposed to.

It was really fucking pathetic but you can’t help how you feel nor could you stop the pulsing feeling in your cunt squeezing around literally nothing just wishing that the nothing was being replaced with him “We’re already in the bathroom together, I can make everything they’re about to say when you leave come true.” Armin continued and it took everything to not kiss him with how close his face was to yours.

You wanted to at least have some respect for yourself. You just got to this party, the first thing you did was grab Armin and take him to the bathroom which seemed wrong enough as it is not only from other people’s perspective but from yours too and if you started fucking him while in here when you were supposed to yell at him and tell him off, that’d just make everyone really believe you were a cock hungry slut including yourself.

Armin then backed his face away which confused you and you showed it on your face “But if you don’t want to…I won’t. You can go slut yourself out to someone you want.” That’s what threw you off. 

You thought he was being sweet with wanting consent until the second part of his sentence left his throat. Even when saying something like that which would make a girl fall to her knees because of how kind he was about needing to know if you wanted it, he still found a way to slut-shame you like everyone else fucking did. 

It was true, all guys were fucking dickheads.

“I thought you were actually a good guy…” You muttered feeling tears beginning to burn in your eyes and a smile just appeared on his face again “If you wanted a good boy, baby you should’ve fucked bertholdt. You’d probably still do it.” Armin said coldly with a chuckle coming from under his breath.

Your hands clenched into tight fists once again but this time you actually put them to use. Your hand went flying toward Armin’s nose making him step back going to hold his nose with a groan and without another word, you left the bathroom rubbing your knuckles leaving Armin in there by himself.

You didn’t know what you were thinking. You didn’t fucking need Armin to have a good time, you didn’t need him for dick either because if you really wanted it that damn bad, you’d find someone. Hell you might even go to Floch just to fucking avoid him, he’d probably be the only guy to want to fuck you without wanting to tell the whole world after Connie’s little lies of you being ran through by the entire Frat house he was in.

When the party was eventually over, you found yourself wandering down the hallway of the dormitories with your heels in your hand and alone. Historia had dropped you off with Ymir in the car adn they went their own way probably either to Ymir’s house or just fucking in the car which you respected so you went about your own way to go to the dorm.

Afterall, you were drunk but you weren’t that drunk. You could still stand, walk and think straight so you were going to be fine but it took a lot of convincing from you and Ymir that you were going to be fine and that they could just leave. You just hoped historia was enjoying herself with Ymir because you clearly weren’t with your horrible mood.

Your bare feet stepped along the carpeted floor of the dorm hallway with your heels clacking against each other in your hand. A frown brought down your face as you let out a sigh. You wanted someone right now.

You didn’t know who you wanted but you needed someone. You spent the entire party babysitting a red solo cup that got refilled probably every three minutes, you ignored the whispers and the stares from people and the snickers you got whenever the guys from the frat house passed by you and don’t even get me started on how you were whenever you caught a glimpse of the blonde man.

It was probably the saddest party you’d ever been to and it left you with a sad feeling resting inside of you, it was your fault honestly. If you weren’t so damn bad at picking out guys and always going for the scumbags and dicks, you wouldn’t be so sad almost crying while finding your way down to your dorm.

“No eren, I didn’t fucking take your weed.” You froze when you heard Armin’s voice. It was very muffled clearly coming from behind a door. Damn, you had forgotten that Armin also lived in the dorms and happened to be on the same floor as you were, it was how you managed to ask him for help for that class.

Your head turned to your right seeing that brown door that looked identical to every other door that was in this hallway except for that metal plate with the numbers ‘312’ that haunted you and made your skin run cold, goosebumps popping up on your exposed arms. Had it always been this cold in the hallway? You didn’t know if it was or the sudden known presence of Armin that was making you feel like it was freezing.

You didn’t continue walking or anything and just stood there staring at the door as if you were waiting for him to say more but he didn’t. He was probably just listening to Eren whine about that damn chain.

Without thinking, you allowed your feet to carry you closer to the door with your stare not faltering one bit. You needed someone so bad, you were just so upset hat you wanted to be in someone’s embrace no matter if it was sex or just cuddling and Armin shouldn’t have been the person you decided on. He was the one that made you feel like this in the first place along with his stupid friends.

But you still wanted him. You wanted to tangle your fingers in his blonde hair making an unruly messy of it, you wanted him to fill you up and making you feel so full, you wanted to smash your lips onto his. You wanted Armin so bad you thought it was going to kill you. Fuck being pathetic, fuck all that shit of feeling bad for wanting a mean guy, you’ll never learn to have fun if you spend all your time just feeling sorry for yourself and what kind of guys you like.

You were already known as a slut and starting to beleive it yourself, there’s nothing you could dp to make people stop thinking that so why not just fucking imbrace it?

You brought those same bruised knuckles that smashed into Armin’s nose up to the door and knocked on the wood gently a few times before dropping your arm back down to your side turning your head down to look at your feet “Eren are you at my fucking door? I told you I don’t got that shit.” His voice was louder than it was the first time and seemed less muffled.

You waited paitently and a little anxious that he’d just slam the door back in your face upset that you punched him in his shit. The sound of the door unlocking made you squeeze your eyes shut not wanting to even look at his shoes but after a few seconds of silence, you decided to look at him.

You slowly lifted your head making eye contact with Armin who was looking down at you, it seemed as though just you staring up at him was the thing that made him happy because a evil lustful grin formed on his lips as he watched you shfit your weight onto your other foot clearly nervous.

“I’ll call you back Eren.”

Moans bounced off the walls of Armin’s dorm as your nails dug into the soft plushness of the couch trying to hold back your moans though you weren’t really doing that good of a job at it “Why you hiding your moans from me baby? I wanna know how good I make my slut feel.” Armin said teasingly as his hands harshly gripped your hips while watching as he slid in and out of you with ease nearly drooling at the sight of how good you sucked his cock in.

Though Armin doubted that he should be surprised, you were so good at taking it down your throat, it’s only normal that you’re good at taking it in your pussy too “S-Sorry, mhm…” You whimpered as you snuck your hand down to draw circles on your clit only making more moans come from your mouth “It’s okay just take it like a good girl. I know you can.” His words made you basically melt onto the spot.

You wanted to be Armin’s good girl so badly, only his. “Uh huh…m’ your good girl.” Your words were just gibberish at this point, he was fucking you so good that you could barely comprehend anything that was going on only how he was ramming inside of you “That’s right, mine. All mine…” You heard Armin whisper possibly one of his hands slapping your thigh making a yelp come out of your mouth.

Your walls fluttered around him as you felt his violent pace slow a bit “Armin…” You were too busy lost in your dreams of pleasure to even notice the missing hand on your hips, the pad of your finger continued to draw circles on your clit bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm “Baby show me how good of a girl you are.” Armin’s words made you open your eyes with a sound of confusion and his phone was shoved in your face recording you; You could see yourself in the camera.

It was an extreme distinction from when you looked into the camera of your phone to fix your makeup, the mascara was running down your face in streams of tears, lipgloss smudged, and probably on Armin’s lips too, red rims around your eyes showing your crying from how good he was fucking you and your lips parted in an ‘O’ with moans slipping out.

His other hand left your hip and found its way to your neck squeezing just lightly and making you groan, he lifted you so your back was pressed up against his chest with him still thrusting up in you hitting your cervix “What are you?” Armin asked as you watched as your tits bounced up and down with each thrust he delivered to your cunt, his cock disappearing and reappearing inside of you.

Your hand still down rubbing circles on your clit which Armin caught onto “A-A slut…” You whispered watching as he set up the phone so it could stand on its own before putting his now free hand on top of yours “Whose slut?” Yeah, you were waiting for that. You didn’t know if he wanted you to automatically know that or if he wanted to hear you admit it after prodding for the answer.

You lowered your head gasping with your chest rising up and down with deep breaths feelings yourself come closer but then he grabbed your hand and tore it from your clit “Say it.” He said sternly with a tight hold on your hand watching you from the camera on the phone, you whined loudly wanting the attention to your clit to return as you were so close, his dick was enough but you wanted more. Like a greedy whore.

“Yours! I’m your slut armin, yours.” You shouted trying to tear your hand away from Armin’s but he didn’t allow you to and grinned at it, you saw it in the video. He looked at you like he was going to kill you like he had the evilest idea in his head “Please, I just wanna cum.” Armin only laughed under his breath at this and leaned down placing his chin on your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Well hold it,” Armin said gently biting down on your neck and hearing you whimper in response. You couldn’t hold it, how could he even begin to ask you that with the way he was fucking you? He was just trying to play with your head even in this intimate moment, if you can even call it that with the filthy noises that both of you were making “I can’t.” You forced out with a sob whining as Armin’s hand moved up to grab at your jaw harshly and force you to look into the camera and see yourself.

You saw a bulge in your stomach and reached your free hand down to gently press at it making both of you groan at the same time, yours sounded more like whimpering than his did. His moans were very different from the first time you heard them.

The first time, they were like yours. Whimpers, begging moans, small sobs as if it was his first time getting head and he just couldn’t get enough of it nor could he take it but now you were the one sounding like that with all of those feelings inside of you as he groaned and whispered filthiness into your ear calling you all types of things that just made you squeeze him tighter.

“Armin please…!” You whined louder hoping to get his attention and get him to understand that you really couldn’t hold it. Even without your fingers on your clit, you were still going to cum and you were trying your absolute hardest to hold it inside but your bubble was getting ready to burst “I swear to god, if you cum this video is going all over instagram.” Your heart stopped at his words and you let the tears fall onto your cheeks that already had dried tears on them.

You really wanted to try and hold it in but you just couldn’t. His threat must’ve turned you on more because you squeezed around his cock tighter watching in the camera as you came with a yell and Armin’s hold on your neck released and he allowed you to fall forward onto the couch.

His silence haunted you and the way his thrusts slowed made you even more terrified of what he was about to do. You breathed heavily as you looked up watching as Armin reached over and grabbed his phone “Don’t get too comfortable, we’re goin’ again baby.” He spoke and you almost smiled but when you remembered what you had just done and the things he probably was planning, you stopped yourself.

A sob escaped your throat at the thought "Keep crying, all it's doing is making me wanna fuck you more." Armin said and you could practically hear the grin on his face and you wished you could wipe it off with a kiss.

That night you and Armin went at it like fucking rabbits but he never said anything more of his threat. He never told you if he did it or not and you never saw anything on his instagram so you assumed he didn’t. The thought of him showing connie, eren and those other boys crossed your mind but they never said anything, no one did so he probably didn’t. Those fuckers couldn’t keep their mouths shut to save their lives but maybe they would if Armin told them that.

Though, it didn’t matter if he did or if he didn’t because you still would be sat on his lap all pretty as he smoked with Eren and connie like you were right now.

Armin’s hand was planted on your ass as you turned the lighter on watching as the fire erupted from the lighter before moving it toward the blunt that was in between the blonde’s lips just waiting for you. You felt the stares of the other two guys on you but you didn’t care, it didn’t matter.

Only Armin mattered and being his good girl mattered most of all. He wasn’t a good boy so someone had to be the good one. Armin inhaled before taking the blunt from his lips and blwoing the smoke out of his mouth making a ‘O’ with the smoke and your face fitting perfectly in the gap. You smiled at the trick that he often did “That’s my good girl.” Armin said with a grin on his face before passing the blunt to Eren who sat beside him.

Armin put out the lighter fire with the tips of his fingers as Eren and Connie laughed a bit to themselves at how you seemed to love his nickname for you and you really did. It made your day everytime he called you that and it may have been sad, pathetic or whatever those two said behind your back but you didn’t give a single shit.

You were Armin’s good girl and that’s all that mattered to you no matter what anyone said.

#torasplanet.ᐟ #aot smut #armin arlert #aot x reader #armin smut #armin arlert smut #armin arlert x reader #toxic!armin #mean!armin #◛⑅·˚armin;p #marls-fics.ᐟ #aot college au #i hate this #wrote this listening to ultraviolence

[chickenparm]

Where You Willed the Moon - Pt. One

AO3 Link Next Part

Scaramouche/f!Reader (reader is the traveler, but not lumine) 10,756 Words - NSFW Unhealthy Codependence, Enemies to Lovers, P in V, f!Receiving Oral, Thigh Riding, Mentions of m!Losing Virginity, Pining, Bullshit Sereniteapot Magic, sub-ish Scara when it counts :^)

Spoilers for the Sumeru story, and spoilers for 3.2 based off leaks.

(written pre-3.2)

---

The sound of metal hitting the floor is eerily similar to the tolling of bells over Monstadt. Ones that call the populace to the cathedral - those who practice, that is. While you hadn’t been much to worship Barbatos after puzzling out Venti and his identity, it’s a different sort of church that you kneel at now. 

One made of crumbling metal and stray static, enough to set the hair on your arms on edge. Your fingertips touch the metal floor and with it comes the zapping of loose electro. You’re far enough away from the residual pools of water and towering cryo structures that you can almost forget what’s brought you here. 

The ignorance is shattered in seconds by the sound of a choking sob, one ripped through teeth in a fit of fury and heartbreak. 

“Not like this… not like this…!”

Your knees scrape against the floor painfully, though it’s miniscule compared to the pains you feel elsewhere in the aftermath of this worship. You’re wholly unconvinced that this is the sort of prayer that he’d been hoping for. Wishing for. 

Demanding of you as metal arms towered over you in a threat of total annihilation if you simply didn’t concede.

The helmet of the metal monstrosity lays in jagged ruins at the center of the room, an altar for you to prostrate in front of if you hadn’t emerged the victor. Your fingers curl over the side as you crawl through the wreckage, hauling yourself up and over the lip to fall next to the prone figure inside. 

Your own body gives out as you collapse on your side, facing Scaramouche’s broken expression as his limbs lay dormant, body spent after expending the entirety of his less than holy divinity in the battle he’d lost. All you can hear is the sound of his heart breaking and his nails digging into the steel and metal that encases the two of you now. 

For a brief moment, as you slide down into the cradle and land so, so close to him, you’re taken aback by the sight of him curled on his side. Like a bug almost, squashed without a care. Without a thought. But you’ve thought about him far too often for this battle to have been meaningless. As meaningless as a simple showdown between some generic good versus generic evil could be, you suppose.

For a moment, it seems as if the world no longer exists. The structure rises and curves inward enough that only an oval of ceiling is visible. There are cracks far, far above from the stress of your clash. One hand clutches over his chest, cradling the place over his heart if not for the way his knuckles and tendons strain at his skin with the force of it. The arm attached to the shoulder he’s laying on is stretched out as if to reach toward you.

His words speak the opposite, all but screamed as his teeth gnash with every syllable. “Get away from me, you… you worthless-… GET AWAY-”

“Stop that.”

Your response isn’t elegant. It isn’t the proper way to speak to a God, especially not one that had held himself so highly above others that he never saw the one coming from below to strike him down. Now you’re on equal levels, cocooned in metal and darkness as static spits back and forth. 

“It’s done.”

“Not like this.” His voice wavers as he repeats himself. Then once more, even weaker, “...not… like this.”

“That’s enough, Scara-”

“I’ll say when it’s enough! Get up and face me!”

It would be far more convincing if you weren’t staring at his visage, watching as a thick stream of tears travel across the bridge of his nose, into his temple, and soaking the indigo hair that’s dampened with blood from a gash across his hairline. With a weak hand, you absently reach forward to push the hair from his forehead and judge that the wound isn’t so deep. 

If his hair weren’t matted with sweat and tears and his absurdly dark lifeblood, you’re certain it would feel like silk against your fingertips. You rub a lock between them anyway, just for the sake of touching him in a way that isn’t outwardly malicious. 

His head jerks back, the hair slipping from your fingers as he does so, and you’re greeted with an expression of pure loathing. It’s disgust that colors him as his lip curls and he sneers at your audacity. At what in particular is unclear. Certainly you’ve done a lot today to earn his ire; tenderness may just be the most heinous of all your transgressions.

But he can’t fight you anymore. Not while he’s so exhausted that he can barely shift his head. You’re certain he’s only awake now out of an endless well of spite and rage, borne of a lifetime threaded with consistent disappointment and betrayal. You’d seen his memories, you’d witnessed the wrongs committed against him. One after another, interspersed with moments in-between that showed you who he might have been had things just been different.

At the time, you’d carefully schooled your features in fury against him. But on the inside, you nurtured a twisted sort of understanding. You’d be just like him, if things had gone differently. Your powers stripped away, your only family is far beyond your reach, and somewhere out there is a goddess that wronged you in so many ways.

It’s this kinship that leads you to reach for him once more, dirty fingers dragging against a cheek that you’d thought was made of porcelain at one point. No being has the divine right to be crafted so beautifully, especially not one made of flesh. Yet here he lays, sucking a startled breath through his grit teeth as you sweep away tears and blood. 

“It’s alright now.” The words crack around the thickness in your throat, brought on by exhaustion and your own welling emotions. “We’re done.”

“We? We’re nothing.” It’s a snake’s hiss, but the fangs are long gone. “All of this is nothing. All my work, everything I’ve done…”

“That’s not fair to yourself to discount everything. I always thought you were the kind of person to turn a blind eye to your failure-”

A bitter laugh leaves him, the smile that accompanies it is ugly and twisted, filled with the tang of bitterness far worse than one should have from a simple defeat. The world is silent. The electro has sputtered out, the groaning of metal settling has finished, and all you’re left with is your own heart pounding in your ears and the ragged sounds of Scaramouche’s frantic breathing. 

Off in the distance, one of the pillars of cryo cracks and groans, the residual heat in the room from Scaramouche’s errant use of pyro created an environment unfitting for ice. It will take time for them to truly melt on their own, but they protest under the pressure nonetheless. In the remains of the metal body, it’s almost frigid. 

“You’ve seen it. I know you have. If it wasn’t leading to this moment, to my victory… then what was the purpose of it all? Why would the gods have deemed it right to leave me broken three times?”

Four, actually, if you’re to count this time. You decide not to.

His real name settles at the tip of your tongue as you fight the instinct to call him such. It’s found a home in your mind since you’d suffered his memories, warping your perception of him from one of distaste to empathy. Like it or not, you understand him now. Perhaps more than anyone else could.

Another shaking breath fills his lungs, and for a moment he holds it as if he’s not quite ready to let go. Then, all at once as if he’d been punched, it leaves him in a harsh sob that turns the twisted expression he wears into something far more heart wrenching. Rage and fury is gone, and to take its place is despondency so deep it takes your breath away. 

And with that cry comes another, wetly forced from the back of his tongue as it catches on phlegm and his own spittle. Just before his eyes clench shut, Scaramouche looks at you with a gaze that suddenly seems far younger than it had moments ago. Hopelessness, pain, fear. You recognized it painfully from the moment he’d entered the hut and witnessed the beginning of his third betrayal.

“If it was all for nothing, what do I have to continue on for? If you have even a shred of mercy in your body left for me, then end it now.”

Instantly, before you can consider the ramifications of his request, you deny it. “No.”

“Then you’re far more cruel than I ever gave you credit for.” From the first syllable, his voice cracks until he’s left whispering the words. Resignation is a poor fit on him. You’re unwilling to let him continue to hold it close to himself. 

Shuffling closer, until you’re nearly nose-to-nose with him,you feel the absence of his body heat that would surely be there with a human. Your fingers glide from his cheek to his hair once more, pushing it all from his forehead once, then twice, over and over in a soothing motion that he visibly melts into. Not so long ago - seconds, really - he would have fought against this. Now, he leans into your touch as if it’s the only thing keeping him pieced together. 

“Scaramouche.”

His body stills, but he refuses to open his eyes to acknowledge you. While he claims you’re merciless, you have enough kindness to give him a few moments longer of your comfort before you try again. “Kunikuzushi.”

“...Hm?”

“Would you like to try again?”

“No, I’m not sure I’d be able to put up as much of a fight the second time.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You can’t help the curl of your smallest smile as you lean close enough for your forehead to press firmly against his own. It’s clammy and sticky with his blood, nearly cementing the two of you together as one. That wouldn’t be so bad, you think. 

“If I took you away from here, would you trust me not to betray you?”

The answer doesn’t come. Only the steady press of his skull against your own, harder and harder until it just toes the line of beginning to hurt. 

Only then does he shakily breathe out, “No.”

With a bitter smile of your own, you push yourself onto your hands, then your knees to pull him into your lap. Blood rushes in your ears at the shift in position, and your wooziness lasts for only a moment before you’re back in control. When your vision clears, you realize rather quickly that your fingers clutch to him a little too hard - he never even flinched.

Trust or not, you’ll take him anyway. 

—

Explaining the destruction of Scaramouche is easier. Convincing everyone of your honesty is even moreso. 

Why would you lie? Scaramouche was your enemy, the mastermind behind everything that’s happened in Sumeru. The samsara, the expedited withering of Irminsul, the foul actions of the Akademiya… All of it would be attributed to Scaramouche, if the presence of Dottore hadn’t been confirmed by multiple witnesses. 

With one harbinger dead and the other having taken flight with the Dendro Archon’s gnosis, the only enemy that remains is one consisting of the sages that had knowingly assisted in the Fatui’s deeds. There are no monsters to fight, no evil to thwart in martial combat, and thus you state your intentions to take some time to rest. 

At first, it made you nauseous. Being pulled through time and space is unpleasant to the uninitiated, but multiple trips for both yourself and the adepti have left you more than experienced in managing the sensations. 

All you see are stars. Streaking past you in a blinding array that leaves you breathless every time you witness it. Your little pocket dimension is somewhere unknown within the fabric of reality, yet you can almost recognise the patterns that shoot past you so quickly they’re gone in the blink of an eye. 

Aether may feel like home, but your feet hitting the cobblestones of your teapot home is a close second. 

While there are storage buildings scattered across your land, only one truly dominates the skyline with its shimmering tiles and sturdy dark wood. A wall surrounds it, but it’s purely for aesthetic reasons - who could invade you here, when permission is required to enter? Brute force would never succeed. 

It’s instinct to call on Tubby to tell you of happenings in your absence, yet this time you refrain. There is another here, and while you’re unsure of the exact amount of time that’s passed between this realm and reality, you’re almost certain he’s exactly where you left him. The door to your home groans open - the only sound that interrupts the careful silence. 

In the entryway, you kick your shoes off to avoid damaging the tatami, and make your way to the second floor. The stairs barely shift under your weight thanks to Tubby’s meticulous upkeep, meaning your presence will go unnoticed if he happens to be on edge. 

But your subterfuge is entirely for naught. As you slide the door open and step into what you’ve claimed as your bedroom, you take in the sight of Scaramouche still unconscious in your bed, even as the sun shafts illuminate the high cheekbones and furrowed brows of his face. 

With little more than a thought, the sun shifts across the sky until it sits low on the painted horizon, just above the stylized waves that surround your home. The light no longer beats against his face, instead casting the room in a warm glow that almost makes the air feel thick. In the distance, you hear those very waves as you nudge one of the windows open to allow a breeze to shift through. 

At first, you’d expected to need to provide medical aid. You’d been prepared to fight him on it, up until he passed out in your arms before you brought him here. Tubby had done most of the work - bringing him from the threshold of your home, cleaning most of the blood off, changing him into something that didn’t smell of smoke and ash and whatever remained of his dreams of grandeur. 

Without the trappings of his harbinger uniform, Scaramouche looked far less menacing in shades of azure and green. It stood in contrast to his hair that was still matted - Tubby couldn’t do everything without thumbs, you supposed. 

Hunger claws at your naval, but you’re far more preoccupied with sitting halfway at his side and picking through the mess of his hair with a fine-toothed comb. It doesn’t take at long as you thought it would, and isn’t nearly a long enough excuse for you to be in his space like this. 

The implications of your need to be here make your skin crawl. You retract your hands so quickly that the comb clatters to the floor with the sound of wood on wood. Scaramouche doesn’t stir, at least to your knowledge, and you take the time to rise from the bed and reach for the abandoned object. 

A vice clamps around your wrist, holding you in place with a grip tight enough that it’s certain to bruise. It takes all your strength to rip your arm away and stand from the bed. Scaramouche looks at you with half-lidded eyes and a haziness to his gaze. A thud follows his hand hitting the bed once you’re bereft of him. 

A long breath leaves him at first, as if he’s testing his lungs and reassuring himself that they’re still functional. After a swallow that reaches your ears with its sound, Scaramouche tries again to reach for you. All that leaves his mouth is, “Don’t leave.”

And against all your instinct to leave, your desire to stay wins. The bed dips as you sit at his side once more, a careful distance away with your hands in your lap. The lacing of your fingers is so tight that your knuckles are as pale as bone with the pressure. 

Scaramouche doesn’t look away, even as his gaze grows hazy with its focus. It’s not clear he understands who you are as one of his hands reach out and tangle in the fabric of the clothes across your back. “You left before.”

“I had to make sure no one was going to question anything.”

Pale lips quirk into the smallest smile, just for a single second. It leaves as soon as it comes, the quickness in stark contrast to the slow way he blinks up at you - weariness incarnate, it seems. “I woke up and all that was here was your… little bird.”

“Tubby. That’s it’s name.”

“It’s a stupid name.”

Scaramouche is feeling better, it seems. The lacerations he once sported have knit themselves shut, the bruises have turned from fresh red and blue to a sickly green akin to the sky before a storm at sundown. Your skin beneath his grasp is alight with far too many sensations, goosebumps traveling along your arms. 

Scaramouche zeroes in on them, and there’s that twisted little smirk again that stays far longer. Blessedly, he doesn’t say a thing about them. Perhaps he can be a benevolent god, when he wants to be. 

“I need to go for a little longer-”

“I said stay.”

“I need to eat, Scaramouche.”

The name makes him flinch, his hand falling to the bed and leaving you bereft of his grip. A yearning little part of you misses it fiercely. Fear isn’t the right word when you pinpoint how wrong it is for you to have become attached like this, yet after having learned so much of his life in the span of moments, you feel an involuntary kinship that colors all your thoughts of him. 

His reaction to the name isn’t explained. While most of him is tucked beneath the blankets of your bed, the hand that had been touching you lays above them with his palm to the sky and his fingers clenched into a loose fist. They only clench tighter as he pointedly looks up at the rafters and says, “Don’t come back, then.”

That strikes at you. His petulance is completely unwarranted, and you’re helpless to your own urge to plant your hands on your hips and call him out on it. “Make up your mind. Do you want me to stay, or do you want me to leave you alone? I’m going to have Tubby make up a second bedroom. Then you can hide out in there if you want to be a child.”

“I’m not-” With one movement, Scaramouche pushes himself up on a hand to sit up. His elbow shakes with the effort, clearly not up to the task of moving so quickly just yet. A sick sense of pride shoots through you with how solidly you’ve beaten him. Through grit teeth, he continues, “You’re the one coming and going as you please.”

“What’s gotten into you?” 

Scaramouche flinches at your hiss, avoiding you all over again, judging by the stubborn set of his brow. Just like him, you’re exhausted, and you don’t have the time nor energy to entertain his whims right now. With purpose, you turn your head and call for your teapot spirit. In a dusting of tiny fireworks and drifting petals, Tubby appears and opens their beak to begin bombarding you with everything they’ve been waiting to say. 

And you’ll give them that when you have time, but for now you hold a finger to your lips and they get the hint. Folding the sleeves of their robes together, Tubby listens as you ask, “Can you bring me something to eat? It doesn’t matter what, don’t trouble yourself too much.”

“Of course! Give me a little time, and I’ll have something splendid for you!”

Your request to not go out of their way is entirely lost to the empty spaces in the room as they disappear. Blowing out a long sigh that feels too much like resignation, you carefully sit on the side of Scaramouche’s bed, your back turned to him and your hands on your knees to brace yourself. When Tubby comes back, you’ll get them working on that second room.

In the meantime, the hand along your spine returns, this time splayed out with a palm pressing firmly against you. It’s a simple touch, one that you close your eyes and relish now that he can’t quite see your face. The expectant moment lingers with a quiet anticipation before Scaramouche breaks it without remorse.

“Why did you do it?”

“Bring you here?” Shuffling behind you, and you assume it’s a nod. “Would you believe me if I said I empathize with you?”

“One little peek at my memories, and we’re suddenly friends now? You feel sorry for me?”

“Is that so bad?” Your head turns so you can look at him out of the corner of your eye. Though he’d been quiet and restrained, it’s clear that there’s fury bubbling beneath the surface that you now must quell. “I think we’re more alike than you realize. Yes, I felt sorry because you never deserved any of that, even after all the problems you’ve caused as a result.”

“I’m not some good guy under all this, you know. I’m not putting on some front to trick you - this is who I am.”

Behind your eyelids, you see him in white, curled in the cavernous wooden halls of his domain and clutching himself in the mockery of a hug. Tears run down his cheeks, one after another, in a constant stream of loneliness and despondency. Perhaps that isn’t him anymore, but neither is this tyrant that’s bent on the divinity he was meant to receive. 

“It’s not. We change through our lives, but I don’t think even you know who you are now.”

“I still don’t trust you.” It’s said as a barb, a last ditch effort to snipe at you when he’s at a loss for words. That’s all you need to confirm that you’re right - Scaramouche is lost and adrift all over again. Eccentric wanderer from Inazuma indeed. 

Tubby returns with your food - a simple fare of cheeses and meats that you consume quickly. Scaramouche doesn’t partake as he stubbornly turns on his side and turns his back to you. Whether it’s in derision for your offer, or he’s still petulant that you backed him into a corner, you’re unsure. Either way, you expect this to be an uncomfortable affair. 

When there are only crumbs left on the plate that Tubby brought, you chew the inside of your cheek to stifle a yawn. While there isn’t another bed, you’re certain you can find a futon in one of the storage houses that dot your little estate. It’ll do for now if you toss it in the other room with tatami flooring. 

Rising to your feet, you stretch your hands to the rafter as if to grasp them, working at the hunched muscles you’d been nursing for a little too long now. The blood rushing in your ears nearly drowns out Scaramouche’s question. “Where are you going? I told you to stay.”

“You also told me to leave, so which is it? I need to get some rest.”

“...Stay.”

Great, that solves that, but you still need to find somewhere to rest. As if he read your mind and pinpointed the exact thing you’d cave to, Scaramouche blindly reaches behind him and flips the blanket back. It’s an open invitation that your hands are tied about - obviously he expected you to take it. 

With not nearly as much hesitance as you expected, you blow air from your cheeks and turn to your dressing screen to change. If he insists… then who are you to deny him? Ditching your adventuring clothes is an affair that’s far quicker than you’ve ever done before, and even as you return to him in only a few minutes, he’s still waiting expectantly. This time on his back, one hand across his heart as the other picks through his hair while noting the tidiness of the strands despite the remnants of your battle clinging to them. 

Scaramouche doesn’t say anything about it, and neither will you. 

The bed dips as you slide in, keeping a careful distance between yourselves as you mirror his position on your back. The bed normally smells like you, but now it carries some odd mixture of yourself and the male besides you. You’re not quite sure if you like it or not. 

“Are you a vampire? A mummy, perhaps?”

“What?”

“I only ask because sleeping like that only comes from being a stiff, undead creature.”

Rolling your head to the side to look at him, you realize you hate Scaramouche’s attempts at humor. There’s no smile on his face, but the tension at the corner of his eyes has melted away, leaving something serene and… nearly happy in its absence. 

Scowling with indignance, you roll on your side until you’re facing him and fix him with that expression unimpeded. It does nothing to bother him, and you’re startled by a laugh. High pitched and breathy as he takes in your irritated compliance. “Is that so bad? Alright then, go to sleep.”

“You first. I need to make sure you’re not going to strangle me.”

“I could just be pretending. Then the moment you start to dream, I’ll wrap my hands around your pretty throat and squeeze until you’re blue.”

“Not if I break out of your hold and strangle you first. I bet you turn an ugly shade of red while you’re wheezing.”

There’s that laughter again, high and manic as he gives you a twisted little grin. There’s no humor in it, only a pleased sort of madness as he meets you blow-for-blow. “I bet you’d beg. ‘Please, Scaramouche-’” 

“Maybe I’ll let you start the suffocation early so I die faster and don’t have to listen to your sad attempts at humor.”

Scaramouche turns until he’s facing you, mirroring your own position as his hands fall in the space between your bodies. You can’t help but let your eyes turn to them, taking note of long, thin fingers whose nail beds are still caked with blood that Tubby couldn’t quite get to. As he notices your gaze, his fingers twitch before they spread open, wiggling pointedly as if to demand something of you. 

All you have to offer is your own hand, but it seems as if that’s what he wanted all along. His palms are cold, just as the rest of him is, but he seems to relish in the warmth you hold in turn with how he lets out a nearly inaudible, shuddering sigh. 

“I won’t strangle you. I’ve decided to keep you.”

“You’re the one in my home.”

He has nothing to say to that. Instead, he squeezes your fingers together with his own and lets his eyelids droop - an acquiescence of a stalemate between the two of you and the mocking attempts at one another’s life. When indigo lashes brush the top of his cheeks and a long sigh leaves his nose, he finally speaks to you. 

“I still don’t trust you.” But I’ll try. 

The implication isn’t lost on you, as much as you’d like to disbelieve it. This moment is proof of him giving in, even if it’s only a few scant centimeters. The end result is unclear, but you’re content with chipping away toward it for as long as he’ll let you. 

—

“How you ever managed to be such a thorn in my side is beyond me.”

Cracking an eye open, you look up at Scaramouche as he looms over you, blocking out the sun that’s been hanging high in the sky for far too long. He’s like an eclipse, and the rays bloom from behind his head like a halo. You wonder if he’s aware of himself, or if it’s unknown to him the exact amount of natural transcendence he carries like a second skin. 

On its own accord, your mouth opens to ask just that, yet he cuts you off by planting his hands on his knees to bend down closer. The trailing sleeves of his haori brush at the grass near your ears, caging you in and tunneling your vision toward the one thing you haven’t been able to look away from. There’s no need to draw your attention when his gravity is inescapable.

“How many times have I agonized over your meddling in Sumeru, and you were laying in the grass somewhere just like this?”

More than you’d like to admit, probably. At least while you were in the forested lands. In the desert, you were all business as Cyno nearly dragged you by the ankle through the dunes. No time to waste, he’d said. You couldn’t agree more as that unforgiving sun beamed down at you like it had a personal vendetta against your survival. 

At your lack of verbal answer - because physically you were blinking slowly up at him with a crooked smile that spoke volumes - Scaramouche grimaced and sank until he was seated just above your head. If you shifted a bit, your head would be cradled in his crossed legs. 

Would he push you away, or pull you in? His preference on your proximity seemed to wax and wane at unpredictable intervals. Some days he was your shadow, just in the corner of your eye as you went about your morning exercises, caught up on some reading, satisfied your need to simply exist for a while without pressing issues at hand. 

And some days you wouldn’t see him until the false evening where your energy would wind down and you’d share a bed with him far more comfortably than you’d expect. You always woke first, and you’d always find him wrapped around you in one way or another, hair brushed into his face and moving gently with his exhales. 

It’s in these moments where you’d watch him - both in the sleepy hours of the morning and times like right now - that you can’t help the whirling of your thoughts down avenues they shouldn’t be veering toward. There are dark corners that beckon you closer, promising things that should never come to fruition. 

But the promises were beautiful. Soft veneer that belied the sharpness that’s sure to cut you to the bone if you let it. But you’ve been through worse things unwillingly - what’s a little willing self-inflicted pain when the payoff would be so sweet? 

Those alleyways are left behind in favor of tilting your head to smile at his upside-down figure. This could be enough. You’re not even sure there's a true possibility for more, yet you dream of it nonetheless. Shameful isn’t enough to describe it. 

“Where have you been?”

It’s an innocent question. It’s all you can muster, as every other topic you’d like to broach comes with the implication of heaviness. Scaramouche will bring his thoughts to you at his own pace - you’d tried to rush him only once, and he’d shut you down so quickly with a sneer and barbed words. It wasn’t worth the grief to hurry him along. 

So you keep it simple, and if he appreciates it or not, you’d never know. But it earns an answer anyway. “I got restless. I looked at the rest of your domain. It’s rather bare. Do you not have the means to fix that?”

If anyone else asked, you would’ve laughed it off. But Scaramouche says it with a little too harsh of a tone, and it makes your cheeks warm as you hurry to defend yourself. “Why would I need to do that? All I need is right here.”

Maybe there’s a little implication there. You hoped for him to pick up on it, and the subtle pink of his cheekbones beginning to flush is the sign showing you that he had. Pointedly, he lifts his chin and turns his gaze forward, setting you free from the snare of his gaze. It’s like cresting from beneath water as the pressure lifts and you’re left reeling from the aftermath of such visual entrapment. 

With a quiet sigh from his nose, his entire posture nearly melts. His back hunches, his elbows find his knees to rest on, his hands are tantalizingly close enough for you to want to reach for. Impulse control had never been your strong suit on the best of days. 

While today was pretty good, you were powerless to reach for one of those slender hands and bring it above your face, watching as his fingers splay of their own accord. You’re treated to the sight of slim fingers that obediently follow where you place them as you push and pull, pressing your thumb into his palm to cup his hand before urging him to flatten it out again. 

All at once, his hand comes down on your face - without force, but the grip he has is enough to startle you into kicking your legs out and scrambling to pull him off. Stubbornly, he refuses to let you go, his voice tinged with a tone that’s awfully close to a certain kitsune you know. “You wanted to see my hand? Then look at it.”

—

The veranda that surrounds your stone garden is a point of interest to him, considering you find him there at all hours with his feet over the edge while he draws shapes in the sand that would soon revert back to its normal state. And in his lap he holds a number of things - scrolls and books you’ve collected on your journeys, trinkets he’s found in your home, an Anemo vision. 

The latter startles you the most. It’s in the Inazuman style, but the glittering green of the gemstone is telling. Venti knows. He must, if it’s to be believed that bestowment of visions is an extension of an Archon’s will. 

Settling beside him with a grunt, you look at the metal he turns over and over in his hand. From what you understand, receiving a vision is meant to be a happy affair, one that comes with the realization of one’s dreams and ambitions. Yet Scaramouche has been quiet during his stay here, barely antagonizing you in favor of sitting in this very spot and contemplating everything and nothing at all. 

“Have you made up your mind, Scaramouche?”

Instead of stringing you along and causing you grief, Scaramouche instead clutches the metal in his hand until you’re certain the edges dig into his skin painfully. “You know my name. Use it.”

It flows off your tongue like it’s been waiting for you to speak it. “Kunikuzushi.”

It sounds like a song, despite its inherent meaning. Whether he chose it for himself, or it was given to him by the Shogun, you’re unsure. The tension in his shoulders drops, and you’re left with a former Fatui harbinger that’s hunched in on himself, looking smaller than ever. The Anemo vision pulses in his palm. 

“I have something to ask of you.”

Not demand, not even request. Kunikuzushi implies that you can simply say no, if you want. It’s haunting to know that you’re not convinced you could deny him something if he asked it earnestly enough - as he’s doing now with subtly pleading eyes and hands that shake around his newfound vision. 

Against your best interests, you answer, “Anything you want.”

“Don’t say that.” It’s sharper, said as a warning before he softens again into vulnerability. “You were right. I don’t know who I am now. I’m… angry. There’s so much of it that I easily let it fill every part of me until there was no room for anything else.”

Despite opening your mouth, you think better of it and say nothing. He doesn’t seem to mind that you’ve foregone a response, and continues on, “It’s still there. Maybe it always will be. Maybe it’s a byproduct of how I was created. She held no regard for emotions, and seeing them in me turned her away.”

You’re well aware. Painfully aware. In your dreams you see snippets of his life you witnessed, and they hover over you like a nightmare that you can’t shake. 

The Anemo vision is no longer strangled, instead it’s cupped in his hands as if he’s cradling something precious. In a way, he is - that vision is the manifestation of the ambitions he’s come to a decision on. 

“No matter how someone attempts to be perceived, everyone has emotions. Me, you, the Shogun. I’m sure every god up in Celestia is unable to hold themselves above that standard. It’s not a human thing, it’s a curse that everything with sentience is given.” 

For the first time since you woke up in that bed and found him clutching your hand with both of his own, gripping you like a lifeline, you reach out with your own hand to lay on the back of his shoulder. Your fingertips brush the ends of his hair, the softness tickling across your skin in a way that you’ve quietly missed.

“So yeah, there will always be anger. There are also a million other emotions too - you can’t get rid of them all. You can let one take over, but in the end you’re still feeling. You’re still angry. You’re still hurt.”

The last word hits him so hard he flinches, eyes clenching shut briefly before opening with slow blinks. Realization is clear on his face as he turns to look at you, something new in his eyes that you haven’t seen before. 

You’re barely given time to decipher it before his tongue darts out to wet his lips and he finally asks of you, “I’ve been selfish for my whole life. Hundreds of years, the only thing I’ve cared about is me. Without the anger I’m empty, and without the selfishness I feel like a stranger to myself. The thing I want to ask is that you let me stay by your side. There’s clarity here, and I know it will be lost the moment I’m alone again.”

“You won’t be.” On reflex you answer, and you’re certain it’s the correct one. You’d never be able to doubt your decision when it comes to him. “Learn to trust me, I won’t willingly let you down.”

And the smile you receive with your acceptance can only be described as radiant, even as it barely curves on his lips. It’s genuine, nothing like the mocking ones you’ve seen before. You have a need to reach out and sweep across it with your thumb, committing the shape to memory, yet you hold yourself back for good reasons. 

He doesn’t trust you, but he’s trying. 

—

Scaramouche - Kunikuzushi, you remind yourself - doesn’t smile often. At least, not in any capacity that isn’t malicious or antagonistic. There’s very little joy to be had on his end, you realize. It’s a task you’ve unwittingly taken on to at least bring him some iota of happiness. You just want to see that smile he’d given you on the veranda once more.

And despite your efforts - needling him for his favorite food until he relents, offering to spar and being shot down, showing him how the spincrystals work - none of them ever make a dent in his perpetual melancholy. That is, until you catch him going through one of the storage buildings where you keep miscellaneous items used for ascension. 

There’s a look on his face that has nothing to do with the fact that he’s been caught, and everything to do with the purple and blue shard cluster in his hands. It glimmers in the low light, but not nearly as bright as the look of glee on his face. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Oh, I knocked that off Childe a while back when we were fighting. I keep it to lord over him when he gets too cocky.”

“‘Gets’? As in, continued interaction?”

Jealousy is painfully easy for you to spot, even on someone like Scara- Kunikuzushi. Against your deep, deep desires to call him out on it, you simply lean one shoulder on the doorframe as you cross your arms, the picture of nonchalance no matter how feigned. “We meet up when I’m in the area and fight. I haven’t lost yet, but he keeps trying.”

“You realize it’s like a drug to him, right?” He turns the shard over and over, watching the way the blue shifts like sunlight through the surface of water. “If you let him win, he’ll lose interest.”

“What if I don’t want him to? It’s the highlight of my trips to Liyue.”

The gleeful smile is gone, and in its place is a downward turn of his lips that leaves you feeling suddenly bereft. Even a smile out of malevolence toward Childe is better than him being disgruntled about nothing at all. The hand holding the shard falls to his side, still clutching it but with far less care. “Is it now?”

“We’ve had a couple solid heart-to-hearts in the middle of battle. I think if things were different, we’d have been good friends.”

“Really? How good is ‘good’?”

You don’t have to think about it. It’s exactly what it sounds like, but you know you’re starting to tread some dangerous waters with how he refuses to look at you, the joints in his hands cracking with the sudden pressure of his grip on Childe’s Foul Legacy shard. The hesitation is unfortunate, and you realize your mistake within seconds. 

The clatter of the shard to the floor barely registers before you realize you’ve been swung around to the outside of the building, trapped between the wall and Scaramouche. Because that’s who this is now - not Kunikuzushi who’s gone through the motions of attempted reconciliation with the parts of himself he’d tried to cast off. This is the Harbinger, the Balladeer, and you’ve unintentionally played with fire. 

His eyes have grown wide with subtle fury, sclera suddenly dwarfing his irises without diminishing the effect of blazing indigo that pins you just as surely as his body does. The grip he has on your shoulders is near bruising - but only for a moment, up until you shift at the discomfort and it all seems to come rushing back to him. Where he’s at, who he’s with, what he’s been trying to do in the safety of your domain. 

As if burned, his hands rip away from you as he stumbles back one, two, three steps. Despite his lower than normal body temperature, you feel cold without him caging you in. The sun above isn’t sufficient to warm you now - not while he’s looking at you as if he’s seen a ghost. His hands shake as they hover in front of him, held aloft as if he’s afraid to bring them close to himself for fear of what he thinks he’s done. 

Scaramouche is absent once more. Dormant, but not entirely gone. You realize it now, as you should have from the very beginning. 

“Kuni-”

“Don’t.”

It’s a plea, but you’re not sure for what. It could be space, it could be forgiveness, it could be any number of things that you’d willingly give him if he only just asked for it. Rather than do anything of the sort, he simply turns on his heel and stalks across the open grass away from the mansion you called home. 

As empty as the other parts of your domain may be, something must have brought him comfort if he was seeking it out in his moment of weakness. Leaning heavily on the wall, you watch until the winding paths take him from your sight and you’re left alone - regretful and confused. 

—

Kunikuzushi doesn’t come to you again - not for the remainder of the day, not for the one following. Worry had begun to set in as you settled for the evening, yet it’s swept away neatly as you’re awoken in the night to your bed shifting. Before you can even start to protest against the intruder, you’re met with a quiet, “Sh-sh-sh”. Just the tone tells you who it is. 

Immediately you settle as he slides in next to you, close enough that he takes your body heat and bounces it back at you. As he shifts, you feel his skin against your own and an involuntary sigh leaves you - it’s undoubtedly pleased, but he makes no verbal note of it. 

He doesn’t even ask. You don’t need to give him permission. The absence of both is an open invitation for him to enter as he pleases, slipping into bed and keeping a respectable distance, yet holding your hand tightly just the same. It doesn’t take much thought to know that he feels far too alone, and sharing a space with you is the smallest comfort he needs. 

“It’s just me.”

You know.

“Can I stay here tonight? Just tonight. I won’t again.”

That’s a lie.

“Are you awake?”

Yes, but you feel adrift in your own body. Calm, relaxed, sharing warmth with him keeps you docile. It keeps your breaths even and your eyes closed. A shuddering sigh leaves him, almost as if he’s laughing nervously. You don’t even flinch as his free hand raises to your face, brushing the back of his knuckles against your cheek before his palm cradles you. 

“It’s not healthy to be this attached but I can’t stay away.” Another breath, in and out as it washes over you and pushes you further into sleep. His voice is barely a whisper, as if he fears waking you up with his nighttime confessions. The sweeping of his thumb under your eye draws a quiet hum from you - content and happy. 

“I’ll always be selfish in some way. I don’t want to lose this feeling, I don’t want to be away from you and forget how this feels. It’s safe. I can’t remember the last time I felt that.”

His confession of your existence as a source of comfort brings a full feeling to your chest, and you’re certain if you were a little more lucid, you’d be welling with tears. Yet all you can do is turn your face just enough for your lips to press against the base of his thumb, brushing in a half-hearted attempt at kissing him there. 

It makes his breath catch, and for a moment you think he realizes you’re awake. Perhaps he knows anyway, and is revealing all this to you with that knowledge in mind. A pressure on your forehead arises as he leans into you, his own forehead resting there and the tip of his nose brushing yours. You’re so warm, he’s so close, your head swims in lazy circles. 

“I’ve known of you for so long, but it’s only during our time here that I’ve come to know you. It feels silly to be this dependent on another, but I-...” A thick swallow punctuates his self-interruption, and he doesn’t continue for just long enough that you think he’s given up. Desperately, you want him to continue - to keep whispering these things to you in the quiet of the night, the barest hint of insanity lacing his voice. 

“I want to be. With you. Here, outside, wherever you are.”

It goes unsaid, but the implications are strong enough that you finally crack your eyes open to catch a glimpse of his own. The color is washed out in the shades of nighttime, leaving amethyst to fade into a cool gray that looks frantically back and forth between your own. Before he can panic, you shift close enough that your legs tangle with his own and you can curl a hand along his ribs. Your fingers slot between each one. 

It’s moving so fast, this odd dance you’ve been doing with him, yet even now you feel like you’ve known him for every one of the hundreds of years he’s wandered Teyvat. Something changed, swiftly and starting from the moment you’d witnessed his memories, and there’s been no effort on your part to stop it. 

It’s welcome. Wanted, even. His fingertips press into the skin behind your ear and you accept his guidance where he leads you - to his lips. Cool and soft and steady, not insistent like you expected. Not fervent and hysteric like you might have once experienced. Instead it’s almost like a plea for you to let him stay with you. 

Your answer is to respond in kind, letting him take what he’d like - whether that’s comfort or something more physical. A sound leaves him, similar to a whine that peters out into something breathier. It’s almost needy in a way, and strikes something inside you to give him what he’s so clearly asking for - begging for. 

The shirt he wears to bed is thin and easy for you to bunch up more and more until you can slip your hand beneath and feel his skin. It leeches your warmth, taking more and more from you as his kiss grows into that desperation you’d initially expected. Each rib is counted up to his chest, and your palm rests over his heart as if you wanted to protect it somehow. He leans into your touch, all but arching into you as you work his shirt higher. 

In the span of time it takes for him to pull away and let you remove it, he’s grown flushed and frantic. The two of you crash back together with too much force, rolling until you’re below him and he cages you in as if you keep you from running - you’re not sure you ever would want to. 

Before, when he’d just awoken with a new sort of life before him, he claimed he would keep you. But now, as he whines as you touch him - stroking down his chest, along his stomach, past his navel - begging for the opposite. “Don’t let me go. Don’t turn me away, please.”

“Never,” You swear it like an oath, a promise that you never intend to break, and the suddenness of the wetness at your neck startles you when he buries his face there. Whether he’s hiding from you or the world, you’re unwilling to let it continue. With both hands on his face you lift him and take in the sight of something that could have been mistaken for anguish if you weren’t so sure of his relief. 

He collapses in your hold as you bring him closer, wrapping your legs around his hips in a halfhearted attempt to keep him secure. There isn’t an ounce of fight in him as he molds against you - face to face, chest to chest, hips against your own insistently in a way that makes it clear what he wants. What he needs. 

“Never,” you repeat, holding him close by the back of his head, gripping him tighter to you as if to meld into one being. It wouldn’t be so bad to share yourself with him in every way possible, down to the very last molecule that makes up your being. Whatever happened in that moment with Haypasia, where you’d taken her hand and allowed her to guide you to him, it’s changed you. 

There is no regret in that thought. Perhaps if something fundamental had gone wrong, where he’d taken hold of your will and twisted you into something that suited his needs, you’d have felt more wary. Instead, it almost feels the opposite with how he grips at your hips and drags against you with movements both languid and frenetic. 

Teeth find the straining tendon of your neck, dragging along it with purpose that’s never fulfilled as he avoids leaving the marks you’d gladly accept. Any trepidation is left at the wayside as the pressure between you builds to unmanageable levels - and you want more. It’s too much, but you’d continue to let it spiral so long as you could continue to feel like this. 

“Scara-... Kunikuzushi, I need more. Please… please-”

“Anything you want.” He murmurs into your ear, teeth finally finding purchase against your earlobe shortly before pulling away. The sharpness of it makes you flinch, nearly distracting you from the way he looms above you while working at the drawstring of his pants. “Keep me by your side, and I’d do anything you asked.”

“Anything?” You hummed, pushing up on your elbows to look at him more closely, silhouetted by the parted screens at his back. At your will, the moon in the sky freezes at its apex, lighting him with its coolness. 

He’s ethereal, truly a being from another plane of existence - nothing in Teyvat could compare to this. No sight in all of your travels would approach the divinity before you that stares back with tear stained cheeks and mussed hair, fingers shaking as he hooks his thumbs into the band of his pants to pull them down. 

Neither of you speak as he reaches toward you with intent, pulling your own shorts away with moves that are clumsy and unpracticed. Despite your sudden impatience, you allow him to move at his own pace here - removing your clothing, crawling up your body, smoothing the backs of his fingers along the insides of your knees before pushing them apart. His swallow is audible above the sound of crickets just outside, betraying the false confidence he’s failing to show. 

“Anything.”

His confirmation comes in three syllables that are accompanied by his breath across your wetness. Shivers make their way down your spine, culminating in your knees pressing into his shoulders on reflex. It does nothing to deter him, even if you wanted it to - you desperately do not. 

His first touches are his thumbs, spreading you apart and gazing with parted lips and a look of enraptured awe on his face. It’d almost be amusing if you weren’t blindsided by his immediate leaning in to taste. One long, flat swipe of his tongue is all it takes to make you shudder beneath him, your fingers wrapping around hair that slips smoothly between your digits. 

The pressure of your grip urges him on further. To be more adventurous, to push inside you with fingers and tongue until you’re breathless and writhing beneath him. It’s you that whines now, pleading for him to continue more and more and more. And truly, he meant anything, as his pursuit of your pleasure is tireless and without pause nor question. 

“I-I need you, I need more-”

With a deep breath, he pulls away to look at you through his lashes with no shortage of expectancy. As his lips move, the low light of the moon catches on the mixture of your pleasure and his saliva. “Soon. Let me have this, don’t be impatient.”

The scolding quiets you only slightly, just enough for him to grasp you once again with increased desperation. His fingertips dig into your thighs, harder and harder until you’re certain you’re liable to bruise. Yet you welcome it - the physical signs of Kunikuzushi on your skin. The proof of his existence here with you. 

Between the sounds of his heavy breath and the press of his tongue inside you, you’re listless and left adrift at his whim. He once claimed you were cruel, but his insistence on keeping you at the edge is far more merciless than you could have hoped to achieve. Even as you begin to plead again, begging him to just set you free, he simply hums against you as if that would be enough to placate. 

With your grip on his hair so tight, you have to be hurting him, yet tugging at his locks only urges him further. Instead of chastising you once more for your neediness, he instead indulges you. What was once teasing and exploratory becomes pinpoint and purposeful. Thin fingers that had simply pressed inside you now become three, then four that stretch you suddenly. 

It’s divine, the closest to Celestia you’re certain you’ll ever reach, and with infinite mercy he allows you to come undone around him. 

He does nothing to quiet your whines, nor does he attempt to stop you from rocking against him with near brutal force as you chase your climax despite being in the throes of it. In the apex of your release, he’s the anchor that keeps you grounded and guides you back down with softer touches and hums of approval. 

Kunikuzushi calls you home, and you’re more than willing to slump in his arms as he crawls up your body and rolls until you’re on your side with him, cradled against his collarbone that’s damp with sweat. Your heartbeat fills your ears with an erratic tempo, and a slip of your hand along his neck reveals his own is thrumming just as quickly. 

There’s nothing to say. No life changing proclamations, no confessions that would shatter the foundations of the very world you’re hiding him away from. Only the slow blink of your eyes as you stare at him in unfiltered wonder. Somehow, reality feels shifted and you can’t pinpoint exactly which axis it’s turned on. 

There’s an unmistakable pressure against your thigh when you slide it between his own. The effect is immediate - his hips roll as he chases the friction you’d teased him with, a sharp exhale that’s akin to disbelief leaves his parted lips, and his eyes unfocus for the briefest moment. His skin catches on your own as you drag your hand from his neck to his chest, then his ribs and down his side to the hip bone that juts out from his skin. All it takes is a nudge of your palm to set him into moving against you with a rhythmic rolling that provides the pleasure he’s earned.

There’s something dark and addicting about the thought of him using you for his own pleasure like this. Only the barest of input is needed from you, giving ample room for you to watch the myriad of expressions on his face. Tension, relief, the glittering of tears welling at the corners once more. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

The words leave of their own accord, but you make no attempt to stop them. All it does is make his face crumple before he turns sharply, burying it in the pillow beneath his head as if that would hide him from your sight. You’re almost tempted to let him do as he pleases, but you’re reminded of the vision you’d burned in your mind of the transcendence you’d witnessed of him in the moonlight. 

And more than anything, you want to see if it tarnishes as he comes undone, or if it refracts against itself in a dizzying whirl of colors and sensations. 

Rolling him onto his back is effortless, but his hips buck to chase you as you pull away the friction he’d been savoring. You’re far less sadistic, despite his prior insistence, and placate him by straddling his hips instead. There’s a new sort of pressure against him - one that’s wet and searing hot and all but begging for him to thrust up into it with the madness you’re certain still lurks beneath the surface.

Yet he stills, clutching the pillow at the sides of his head, suddenly afraid to touch you. Without his guidance, you’re left in control and it gives you a surge of bravado so strong that you barely attempt to stem it. Your hips roll once, and in turn his eyes roll beneath fluttering lashes. All you can make out is a half-lidded gaze as he watches you rock above him, taking his pleasure into your own hands rather than allowing him to use you himself. 

“I-I can’t… it’s too much-”

You had your suspicions, but his frantic exclamation proves that you’re treading ground with him that’s yet to be explored. On any other occasion, you’d be delighted to have him release on you, painting your skin and marking you as his own - yet this is meant to be special. 

A shift of your hips and your hand guiding him is all it takes for him to slide home easily, thanks to your own eagerness. A broken whine leaves him, cracked at the edges and scraping pleasantly against your ears as you let him bask in the moment. Beneath your splayed hands, his ribs shudder with every labored breath as he strains to make sense of what he’s feeling now. 

Below you, he seems so far away. So small as he white-knuckle grips next to his head, dangerously close to catching his own hair in the crossfire. Leaning down until you’re flush with him, you run your fingers through the indigo strands to sweep them up and out of the way, revealing the entirety of his face to you. 

Cradling his forehead with your palm, you take the chance to lean in and kiss him - softly, with all the tenderness you can put forth. It tastes sweet on your tongue, clinging saccharine to your teeth even as you pull away and marvel as the flush of his cheeks, the wetness traveling down his temples and into the fabrics beneath him. 

His time is up, and you give him no more time to adjust as you rock your hips enough for him to slide partly out, then all the way to the base again. His pupils seem to shrink as his eyes snap open, staring sightlessly over your shoulder as you move slowly. Permanently catatonic, you’d categorize him as such while you focus on his bliss while taking this from him.

“Touch me.” When he doesn’t respond, you coo, “Kunikuzushi…”

“I-I… I can’t.”

“You can’t? Or won’t?”

It’s a tease. Surely he’d give in if he were able to, but it’s impossible to resist goading him when he looks so thoroughly broken beneath you. Your fingers trace his hairline again, asynchronous to the rolling of your hips, and you hum in acknowledgment as he swallows thickly to answer, “I-I’m going to… Please, I don’t... it’s too…”

Fragments of sentences are all he can give to you, but you understand his desperation just the same. His cheek is cool against your own as you lean closer, murmuring into his ear, “Go ahead. Fill me up. Claim me. I’m all yours, and you’re mine.”

It could’ve been a number of things. The reassurance, the closeness, the promise of letting fate entwine the two of you so tightly that there’d be no undoing such a tangle. Any one of them could have led him into throwing his arms around you and crushing you to his chest as he writhes. A choked sob leaves him, muffled by your shoulder as he all but buries himself in you in every sense of the word. 

And you let him, the only sound you make is one of surprise as he releases into you with force, doing exactly as you told him to. In the wake of his climax is a series of full-body shudders, barely contained by the way he anchors himself to you with all his strength. Thin fingers feel like knives as they dig into your shoulder blades, his elbows hooking beneath your arms to lock you in. 

The sound of his breath in your ear is like waves crashing on rocks, like rain on a metal roof - loud, all consuming, washing out the rest of the world if you let it. And you do, without complaint and without hesitation as you let him writhe against you in search of the last dregs of his pleasure that he’s found with you. 

He doesn’t relent. Not as his movements stop, not as you pull away enough to kiss along the column of his neck and thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and not as his breathing picks up speed and shortness again. If it were anyone else, you’d have made a comment about the tears that wet your shoulder - but he’s in a league of his own. 

All you do is roll until you’re on your back once more, cradling him with your arms and thighs as the dam breaks and you wait patiently for the torrent to subside. 

The moon stays exactly where you willed it.

#scaramouche #scaramouche genshin #kunikuzushi #kunikuzushi genshin #spoilers using leaks for upcoming #written pre-3.2 #scaramouche x reader #f!reader #female reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #maybe one shot #maybe two shot #depends on what happens after we tickle his toes and he gets his beach episode redemption arc #mdni #mind the a/n for spicy tags

[corruptedroses]

*clears throat* Soft Dom Bane x Reader headcanons because man looks like he would care for his SO needs more than his. Maybe hints of strength and size kink because hello? His carry? Also have fun guessing who this anon is /j

— In his hands

Fandom — Identity V Pairing — Gamekeeper | Bane Perez/reader Content Warnings — Author's Notes — Please note that Bane in my headcanons have two prosthetic tongues and a lisp because of this.

With the many years of isolation and the years of grief that came with losing his best friend, Bane longs for a connection where you're both able to trust and love each other and when he found you, he knew that he found the person he wanted.

Bane was a naturally big person as a normal person and a hunter, so, it wasn't a shock when the first time he laid a hand on you it almost enveloped your face, leaving him to pause and drag that hand down your neck, your front, to your waist.

You swore that you could feel the steam coming from underneath his mask as he carried you to a chair, even more silent than he usually was.

After that game, the gamekeeper had taken up your doorway to invite you to the hunter's side for lunch and tea. Literally, the man easily made the doorway look like a pet door when he stood there, mask off and prosthetic tongue talking.

You hadn't even known that the man was even capable of speaking before you saw him like that. It was honestly charming how his eyes had been averted and he seemed unsure of what to say.

Those eyes weren't the same way when he was eating you out. While he wasn't able to use a tongue to fuck you, his fingers were just enough to fill you, and stretch you, while his lips worked at anything he wasn't able to get. His other hand was easily able to pin your hips and chest flat against the bed. He loves the state of you, he loves the smell of you as you squirm and whine.

He likes to pin you down, and hold you in games, but when the two of you are in the bedroom, it's like a whole new ball game. Instead of you struggling for a win, it was one of trust, it was one of carnal need. It allowed for him to sweat off the stress and anger of the day and focus on making the two of you feel good.

He barely fits. Bane is so big that he needs to stretch you out every time so that he doesn't hurt you. His muscles easily cage you in, his hips forcing you to bounce against his skin as he grunted against your neck. Pure raw power, pure need, he fucks you like a wild animal so deep and with raw instinct.

"Look at you, sweetheart," Bane would grunt, flicking a thumb over one of your nipples, the other gripping one of your ass cheeks so tight that you were sure that he would leave bruises, "Taking me in so well..."

And he would easily paint your insides or skin all white. He's sexually suppressed from isolation and he's all pent up, he wants to make sure that you're filled to the brim until you're overflowing. He wants to see you leak cum and still want more.

But god, he wants to also spoil you too; washing you, massaging oils into your skins, letting you know you're loved. Bane needs to share the love he hasn't been able to for years, and its now all for you.

#identity v smut #smut #idv smut #identity v #idv bane x reader smut #idv bane smut #idv bane x reader #idv bane #bane perez #idv gamekeeper x reader smut #identity v gamekeeper x reader smut #idv gamekeeper

[bellsnuit]

Kill em with kindness (Lloyd Hansen x reader)

The gif isnt mine

Summary: When everyone thought Six kills him, no one really has any luck with that. Lloyd wakes up after being unconscious and receives two surprises. Apparently even the tortured murderer has a certain weakness, and he will fall under the arms of that somewhat annoyed girl, allowing her to torture him. And maybe her plan doesn't sound so bad.

Only fluff... a sick fluff? sociopath fluff)?

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

Lloyd Hansen is an idiot. An idiot that everyone hates because he is good. Sure, that really was the view of everyone in that environment of disgust, until one man alone was able to throw away his entire temple and his house. 

But everything was a chronicle of a death foretold, everyone knew how that story was going to end, that's why no one was surprised when his dead image leaked in the fountain, with a bullet wound in the abdomen.

Of course, except you. Because out of the three billion people in the world, you were the only one who had ever met him without that stupid mustache and with less idiocy on top. And yes, repeatedly you could say he was an idiot, but he was too lucky an idiot to die quietly.

And when everyone thought Six kills him, no one really has any luck with that.

Llyod stirs wherever he is. He's in too much pain to open his eyes. His body is completely burned from a wound that will need at least three months to heal and stop burning. 

The whimper comes out of his mouth, with a "shit, shit". He struggles to open his eyes, ready to fight whoever was in front of him to get out of there. He was spiteful, especially since he had seen the light and thought he had died, and now he was locked in a place he could even intuit because none of his senses were really functioning.

"I recommend you stay quiet" that voice made him stop moving, and he gasped heavily as he recognized the voice so quickly.

"Fuck" he cursed lightly, and realizing that death wasn't brushing his fingers -for now-, he relaxed his body slightly. He opened his mouth, feeling the pressure in his abdomen, but also smelling the scent of field, pine, maybe cedar, and some sandalwood. "Texas" he muttered, still concentrating to open his eyes. He felt footsteps walking not far from him, and a couple of objects moving.

"Quick for smells and not for bullets."

"AGSH!" he exclaimed in an annoyed groan at the words, scowling. "Shut the fuck up" he held his hands up to his head, surprised that his nervous system was working.

"And you still have the nerve to yell at me. Always such an asshole, Llyod" he felt her move closer to him and something touched his skin, so he noticed not only how sore he was, but how he was shirtless and pantless, just his boxers. "You'd better keep your friend asleep" she warned sliding the cloth across his scarred V-zone. He groaned in annoyance, gritting his teeth. 

"AGHS!" he cried out in pain as the wound seemed to spread across his entire chest.

"So did I the moment I saw that one man was beating you." 

"Shut the fuck up!" he yelled slamming his fist into his side, but he hadn't opened his eyes yet. He could just picture her talking to him and it was an image that seemed so identical to reality, that he didn’t even need to open his eyes.

A cloth was placed on his lips and he let go, knowing it was going to hurt what followed. The moment she squirted liquid into his wound, he groaned in annoyance and contracted his face, lifting his hip in pain. She withdrew the stuff from his mouth to pursue healing the bandage she had been doing a week ago when she had him under her power and cared for him while he was unconscious that week. 

"You know, I hate to say it, but you should have shot the little girl and saved your alpha male part. If only you hadn't flip-flopped so much with the gun, you'd have a bit of a reputation"

He wanted to yell at her, but his eyes closed caught the light in him. His hands moved away from his body, and he stirred upward, noticing the soft sheets. He moaned at the pleasurable contact of not being underground. He opened his eyes, feeling utensils move beside him for her. 

He saw the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, which weighed 100 kg and had more bulbs than he could count at a glance. "You liked my gift," and when with that teasing smile he went to turn to look at her, it quickly faded from him. "What the fuck?" his tone definitely echoed loudly in the room and he ignored the beauty of the view the window gave him of the countryside and its sunset.

The brunette sighed, turning to him and being able to collide eyesight after five months without even calls. "And now why exactly are you complaining?" she knew what he was complaining about. And she also saw how he tensed his jaw without even looking her in the eye. "Lloyd, you are so screwed, you know that right?" 

This one sighed, moving to the side and looking at her. "Yeah, I know" his annoyed expression was there. "What the fuck did you do?"

"You know, same old thing. Clean up your shit. When I saw your house burn, I sent in a police operation, some friends took a picture of you dying, put you in the ambulance, and while they were doing what they could with you, they took you to the airfield and brought you to Texas with me. So we've been together for a week, living together, and you sleeping at home" this one moved his jaw "It's a pity you forget that your wife is one of the smartest in the world."

"I'm really beginning to doubt that seeing your belly" he shook his head, showing his annoyance.

"Well, you could have found out sooner if you weren't such an idiot" she sat down next to him on the bed and saw his seriousness. "I chose it."

"Well, you made a shitty choice" he spat stirring, wanting to sit up but the pain wouldn't let him and thwarted him. "I didn't send you to live in the middle of nowhere, in a big house all alone, so you can add another thing to fuck everything up."

"Oh, so you get to fuck me and I can't fuck?" she blurted out with some amusement but he didn't laugh. She sighed in annoyance this time. "Shit, Lloyd, you expect me to tell you it's a joke, That is from the gardener? You know damn well how deep you stick your cock alone in me."

"I don't remember doing it like five months ago."

"Then guess my time" she pointed to her belly and stood up "Anyway, you can think about is fucking well because I assure you that wound is going to take like four more months, not counting you had a liver transplant. So, go as you want to live because, by the time you start to recover, I will have already delivered your son."

"Is it a boy?" the question made her turn on her way to the door. She nodded. "You know I'm never going to let you leave this house again now?" she smiled slightly at his seriousness. "That's not funny at all."

"And you say then that you're going to be taking care of me more?" she returned to the bed, and he was settling down with his head on four pillows, wanting more up. He felt the slight burn on his back burn but only grimaced. He didn't answer his wife, he didn't look at her either. "Oh come on, honey" she whispered and Lloyd watched as she was climbing into bed. "You stay with me here hiding until you get back on your feet. I help you make the best plan in the world, we take only four people and are very trustworthy" she sat on his cock and felt him clench at the feel of it, despite his clothes. He let out a grunt and she moaned slightly. She lowered her hands to his abdomen "We'll get rid of that stupid mustache if you want. We blow up the shitty building that has that motherfucker Suzanne, that asshole Denny, and that bitch Dani Miranda" he frowned "You know, the whore that worked with Six" he looked at you and you smiled "And then we put your friend to sleep a little, bring him in here with that sweet girl. You torture him a little bit and I help that little girl recover from all her traumas like the good psychologist I am."

"And now you don't want to kill the girl anymore?" this one moved his hands up towards his wife's hip, biting his lip.

"Well, she's not going to behave like a spoiled brat. Then we can just make her part of the family" he grimaced "Oh come on, I've always wanted a daughter. Do her hair, go shopping. She's just going to have to get used to it. I'd look forward to that."

"It's not going to be easy dealing with that child."

"Well, we're going to have our little baby now. It'll be like two kids" she stirred on him and he gasped "Come on honey, and we can start building our family. You start working more here, like a fucking king you start bossing everyone around, but you make your stays more recurring than your goes" she lifted her hips slightly and let them drop, slapping at his hardened member, and moaning a little at his low moan, holding her hips tight "Think about it, love. Besides, you always told me you wanted to make me happy."

"Shut the fuck up and take off your clothes. I'm going to introduce myself to our little boy" he mocked the words totally serious and she let out a little gasp at the thought. She leaned into him, careful of his wound, and kissed his lips.

"I love you, baby" you she as his fingers sank into you.

"You're fucking sick, princess."

"But we always work out. Besides, you want me. Remember when you used to call me to cum with my little noises?" he caught his wife's lips with his teeth, and she was careful not to hurt.

"Let me recover to collapse your legs on our bed" he moved his hand down from her waist and tucked it under the clothes. He touched the center through the underwear "Desperate, honey?"

"You don't know how frustrating it is to have to rub yourself on the pillow and spend your money on toys."

He denied it, insisting that his wife move on him "What a waste of money you make, my love."

"So... Shall we take our plan forward?"

"We're going to make you happy. I'm going to make sure I kill those assholes and bring you that little girl for you. And then if you want, I'll give you a girl for myself" she gasped at the idea, throwing her head back as she felt her husband's throbbing in her center. "You think so, baby?"

"Yes. Let's kill them with kindness and surprise them with your existence. And you're going to bring home many millions, yes?"

"All for you."

#lloyd hansen #the gray man #the gray man spoilers #chris evans #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen x female reader

[timaeusterrored]

V knew what was up the second he got home. So he took his sweet time unwinding. Kerry was leaned on the balcony outside, smoking, and Vax noted he got through two and a half by the time he made it outside.

“There you are.” The door slid shut behind V, Kerry turned his head before turning back to look out. “Hey.” He took another drag.

V slid his hands over his hips connecting them around his lover’s waist and leaned into him, kissing his shoulder. “Rough day?” He asked softly. “You’re way too calm about your identity being leaked.” Kerry said sourly. He was simply calm for Kerry’s sake. He knew if he was freaked out and angry, Kerry would feed off of it and would make his anger worse.

“There’s no point in being angry with you. You did everything you could, it’s not your fault and they still don’t have my face. It could have been a lot worse.” There was more to this, V knew that. He had been with Kerry for nearly five years now and knew he was upset about another thing.

“Just so you know..” V whispered, holding Kerry a bit tighter. “I like you older.. older means you’re still here.”

“Older means I’m leaving you sooner.” Kerry grumbled. “Older means every fucking screamsheet is calling you a gold digger, or sugar baby, or whatever the fuck else. Older means-“

“Baby.” Kerry stopped his rant and V noted his hands were shaking as he brought his hand up to take another drag of his cigarette. V held him closer, frowning. He knew Kerry was upset about this whole thing because yes he did love V, but it was getting under his skin and reaching an insecurity that they didn’t discuss much of.

“You being older means you lived long enough to have me. And I have lived long enough to have you. You are my world, my lover, my caretaker-“

“You’re just repeating your vows now and I will cry if you start that shit.” Kerry laughed weakly. They had both cried on their wedding day, V had just been able to start walking again. Kerry had proposed the first day after Vik told him he’d be okay to be alone now.

“You being older.. means the fucking world to me in ways you don’t get. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t brought me home, and took care of me.. I was so close to losing you.. and look at us now.”

Kerry didn’t say anything, but V realized silent tears were falling down his face. “Remember what you told me? On the roof and on the yacht.. life loops and all that?” Kerry nodded, gripping the railing to the balcony.

“You broke the loop of pain and grieving, you’re back on the top, you have me. Who gives a fuck what sad interviewers think and the fucking screamsheets? If they are jealous that you chose me well, they can suck it up.”

Kerry was still staring out at the city, gripping the balcony like if he let go, he’d fall. V wouldn’t let him fall, never again. Kerry inhaled, held it, then exhaled before turning to face him. He gently pushed his fist into V’s chest before pulling him down for a kiss, holding his face like it was the only important thing in his life.

“Let’s go to bed, you’ve had a long day. I wanna take care of you.” V whispered, wiping one of Kerry’s tears away. Kerry did the rest, rubbed his mouth and nodded, as if trying to fix himself. Like he wasn’t in front of the man who had promised to love and take care of him until they end of their days. He took V’s hand and lead him back inside.

#I’m sad #‘older means you’re still here’ #fucking SOBBING #cyberpunk 2077 #kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk kerry #cyberpunk v #kerry x v #male v #kerry eurodyne x v #kerry #ker x v #male v cyberpunk #vax eurodyne #kerry eurodyne x male v #kerry x male v #kerry x masc v #male v x kerry #v x kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk v x kerry #v x kerry

[gloryride]

D, E, H for virgile in the fluff asks pls :3

Answer in his head and forget to write … sorry for the wait. And thanks for asking ♥♥ [FLUFF ALPHABET ASK]

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

The future looks good ♥ Virgile spent 10 difficult years with NetWatch, Evelyn, his depression, his addictions … he suffered and knows that all this is behind him. After helping V (Valentin by @draerian), Virgile spends half the week in Night City continuing to be an independent netrunner, and the other half at the Aldecaldos camp. He will continue for some time, the Aldecaldos have quite a few jobs around here thanks to Virgile and Valentin. But one day, he will have to choose and will not hesitate: he will go on the road with the Aldecaldos, with Panam at his side. Virgile needs his happy ending ♥

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Panam is the most dominant of the couple with her strong temperament, Virgile is more passive. He is involved in the couple and can make decisions of course, but when they see Panam and Virgile, people know that he is not the dominant one!

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He got some and it resulted in their first breakup. Virgile tracked down netrunners during his NetWatch years and "neutralized" some, including nomads. Despite his data protection, his identity was leaked and some clans were looking for him. When he met Panam, he didn't tell her about it, he was ashamed of it and anyway, she didn't have a clan anymore. But when she first introduced him to Mitch and Scorpion, Virgile was afraid of being discovered, but still didn't dare to tell her. When Carol found out who he was, she told the others. It was Mitch who advised him to break up with Panam and leave to save his skin. The rupture was very difficult… and the reunion rather icy. When they got back together, they had a heart-to-heart talk so as not to let secrets separate them again.

#about : virgile sarto #otp : highway to love #panam palmer #they deserve love and an happy ending

[silberfrost]

I'm so excited for this skin to finally come out

#identity v #idv #idv axe boy #axe boy #robbie white #look at him!!!! #when i reinstalled the game back in early april he was the first character i wanted #and this skin was leaked and its finally here! #im so glad its for charity

[dayas]

Benophie V Day Fic 🤩

LMAO OF COURSE

This is a bit more than you probably expected but like oh well 💀

Pick A Title And I’ll Leak A Blurb

On instinct, Sophie stepped away from the mirror, reaching out and grabbing a lacy black mask Kate had lying around, tying it to her features so he wouldn’t be able to recognize her. She couldn’t bear his disappointment the next day when he discovered who she truly was.

Her back had been turned to him the whole time, and she kept it that way, because she had no idea what to say! What does one say to one’s future boss when one does not wish for them to know one’s true identity? It was madness.

In the midst of her freak out, she missed Benedict approaching her. When he was a centimeter away from touching her back, her eyes flashed up to the vanity mirror she stood near. While she was out of the frame, he took over it. He filled the mirror, arm outstretched, fingers splayed, ready to touch her if she allowed it.

Sophie didn’t breathe. She buzzed, exhaling in an attempt to calm her nerves. That did absolutely nothing; she could feel him mere millimeters from her body.

She shivered when his fingers brushed her skin, the pads gently pressing into her arms. Heat flooded the spot and warmed her cheeks, and she gasped underneath her breath.

“Tell me who you are,” He whispered, and she closed her eyes, clutching her hands out in front of her.

#k answers #asks #answers #benophie #bophie #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #sophie x benedict #benedict x sophie #benedict bridgerton x sophie beckett #bridgerton #liv it up

[steponmepinkjun]

ok ok these are the Questionable Local Felix rumours ive gathered but i cant stress enough to take this with a Massive grain of salt bc it was never from the source themselves. 1) felix is a weeb and used to call his fav anime girls his waifus. this one i wholeheartedly believe imo i see it. i can feel it. he was probably a mikasa stan. im projecting shut up. 2) he lost his v-card at 14... im not gonna elaborate on that one for obvious reasons, im just gonna say me too bro we livin this whore life together✨3) he was a kik kid. this one is actually confirmed as true mf had his old kik profile pic leaked and it looks like every 12 year old fuckboi wannabe ever its the Funniest thing ever. i cant rmb any of the others but ill come back to you if i do

chan thot wbk we all heard the moaning in the back of tiktok and then theres just wow as a whole. tag yourself im the one bitch who he called pretty during the predebut 3racha live stage of id:a and started screeching belligerently.

literally Dont Even Get Me Started on the whitewashing in the kpop industry. im a tanned skin asian myself and it just makes me ::::'))) they be whitewashing entire videos not just photos and using makeup and skin brightening creams and its horrible. its seriously horrible. ppl often make fun of darker skinned idols too... "hurl a bottle of makeup remover like a molotov cocktail" PLEASEEE that sent me but youre so right for this take tho. men w makeup outsold. like the makeup from the victory song mama stage? UGHHH PLEASE. makeup artist felix when. i literally know nothing about makeup bc im trans and femininity usually makes me dysphoric (but also i wanna get into makeup highkey? i just dont want it to make me look like a girl?) but like i am So Here For It.

anyway here's a thread of unwhitewashed skz for the soul: https://twitter. com/aintcheww/status/1338395728620605440?s=20 and here's a thread of felix's freckles: https://twitter. com/Bllack98/status/1390808708544925696?s=20 as u can see they often only show his cheek freckles but it does down to his ears and theyre adorable. im in love with this man -felix bi anon

I just know in my heart, in my heart of hearts, deep in my soul, that these are all true 😂.🙊 Because if I was gorgeous, talented, charismatic, and ever had even a single occasion to show up in a head-to-toe sky blue suit decked out w the gold rolex, even once, even as a joke, I too would show up to life every day going, "Yeah, I could steal your girlfriend AND your boyfriend in the short moment while the next episode of this fuckin anime is loading. What of it? You can't touch this. Hi, flop 😚" with my fuckin deep ass voice, and then just fuckin dance my lil ass off into the sunset. Would you not, if it was you?! I'd be up in EVERYONE'S dms with the unbearable fuckboy energy, giving that lip bite jaw stroke shit, and STILL winning. STILL serving, as he should 😂 I feel like there is an energy to predbut pics of him that I actually relate to, he just seems (to me) like this very bright, very sensitive kid, kind of not really sure how to channel that and definitely having success in how he's perceived but not really letting his true vulnerability or creativity shine through... And I think that's very much what adolescence is about, I mean they are literally still kids, they are all SO young, I could give them very much "back in my day" lectures as I hobble in with my cane and my bad back and my outdated slang, they're that much Fetuses in my eyes as the resident old ass bitch 😂 but I do relate to the way I feel like as time as gone on his sense of self and confidence in his own abilities and identity has just completely started to shine through, so as someone who sort of looks at all the kids with this benevolent, protective energy as well as acknowledging how fabulous they all are—the way you hype your friends up, like YAAAS BITCH, give it to them! Let them have it! Also I love you and would ride out for you! Very THAT energy—I feel like there's a growth w Felix that is very palpable and is really heartwarming to see. But at the same time I also know deep in my soul that Felix was that kid that worked part time at Abercrombie & Fitch—not Hollister cause Hollister was the broke bitch alternative to A&F if you were a bitch that had money 😂—and would curate the store playlists, be too busy talking w his friends to greet customers, and audibly sigh when someone rifled through the table of denim he just folded immaculately (same bestie 😔) before getting froyo with his work besties in the food court and using it as an opportunity to flex on everyone who didn't have the newest statement tee that he bought w his employee discount. He also defo got the job because he couldve been one of the iconic A&F models himself and always reeks of the cologne they spray on all the clothes in store. And none of that is a read, it is a FACT 😂😭 I also live for Chan giving us whole entire golden retriever energy, as well as exhausted mom of seven no braincell havin ass children, on top of Business Professional, Sickening on the Sales Floor Business Fish, inspiring motivational poster at the dentists office energy, at the same time as SIR WHO TAUGHT YOU TO MOVE LIKE THAT 😳, and then on top of it all whatever that is thats been coming to light on my fyp these days 😳 bitch idk wtf an eshay is and at this point I'm too afraid to ask 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

(sidenote I s2g if I was that girl at that show that he called pretty my heart would have leapt out of my chest cavity like it was fuckin fire drill and they would have had to close down the whole venue while they waited for the coroner, I would NOT BE OKAY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭)

I literally cry at Chan being like "oh no I'm barefaced" like SIR. I want you to go sit in a corner and think about what you've done. I will pick your short ass up by the scruff of your neck and throw you out the damn window. Knowing DAMN WELL they all gorgeous NO FUCKIN FILTER, meanwhile I'm sitting there entombed in blankets like a fuckin earthworm, bags under my eyes like I work at Prada Marfa, body shaped like a refrigerator, adult acne signing into the chat every chance she gets, double AND triple chin reporting for duty, hairline RUNNIN from my face like it's got a warrant, giving very much Danny Devito as The Penguin teas 🙄🙄🙄 like sir I will shove a falcon wing up your fly ass 🙄🙄����🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄 Like hello hi hello sir from the uggos, we see you and your crew and REJECT you from the club, none of yall qualify on your worst day, goodbye, dismissed, case adjourned, bring in the dancing lobsters 🙄 if I was that pretty YOU COULDN'T TELL ME SHIT. I would be UNTOUCHABLE. Idk man I mean like I see the difference in the beauty standard socially, but I hope that tide turns and shit changes, it makes me sad and it's so harmful.

I always felt a little out of place in the makeup world because, at the time, when I was coming up trying to learn shit it wasn't like it is now where there's respect for creative freedom and there's a niche for every style. It was like, if you wanted to learn to do makeup, there was a Right Way to do it and that meant worshiping Kevin Aucoin and Bobbi Brown books like the bible and making every look the standard of Flawless, Effortlessly Eurocentric Youth-Fetishizing 90's Supermodel Minimalism. I wanted to create looks that felt inspired and were performance art and statement pieces, my personal aspiration with my looks was that like... I wanted to achieve something beyond the banal of being human. I wanted to look like a fucking alien, I wanted people to see my makeup and go "I don't know what the fuck that is but it's confusing and scary and I am feeling Emotions about it" but there wasn't room for that, not in the spaces I found online but especially not in the irl world of makeup around me. I saw makeup and fashion as a tool to take control of the way the world experienced me, I wanted to transcend the petty rules of peoples perceptions of me, but... Idk. I wish I could rediscover that passion for makeup as a medium and the human body as a canvas, but... Idk. I'm a tired old bitch now and I can't be bothered anymore. I don't even wanna be perceived at this point and any form of self expression that falls short of an invisibility cloak is falling short of the goal lmfaoooooooo 😂 ugh how depressing! Not the mood. But ANYWAYS I completely live for the boys and in my head Felix is literally four inches tall and could fit into my shirt pocket, I mentally picture him as the epitome of Pampered Smol, and no one can convince me otherwise, the boy is Tiny, a Petito, a Micro, a Wee Bern. If I even begin to approach the absolute hysteria that thinking of Lee Felix Ear Freckles would cause me I will absolutely collapse and once I am revived with smelling salts I will need to be sent to the seaside for the season to recover 👌

#Everyone feel free to look at me and go Hi Flop 😊 Hi Bald 😊 #Anyways I am missing Hyunjin #jaywhypeepee you betta free my boy or I'm comin to ya house and I'm shittin in ya left shoes #asksteppie #felix-bi-anon

[chromemist]

Patrol Nights: 1st Instance

Series: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Vipernette

Rating: straight up nsfw

Warnings: Vouyerism

Inspired by everyone on the LBSC server. I’m probably gonna make more of these. Please take head of the warnings. If you don’t like it, you are in no way obligated to read it. If you do read it, enjoy it! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Viperion and Chat Noir both lighted on the rooftop at the same time, a soft sshink coming from Chat’s baton as he retracted it. Viperion looked over at the young cat and sighed. Chat Noir had the same pinched look on his face the entire night, and Viperion was really starting to get tired of it. He had hoped that after four years of watching the cat superhero get turned down, he’d grow up and get a clue. But even after all this time, Hawkmoth mysteriously disappearing, and Chat bragging about a girlfriend, he still wouldn’t give up. While it wasn’t as often and as annoying as it had once been, it still happened.

“Sorry this is boring you Chat. But look on the bright side. No crime!” Viperion tried for a pleasant conversation. Chat Noir only sighed, his shoulders and ears sagging.

“Yeah, it would’ve been a perfect night to talk to Ladybug. No offense Viperion. You’re a great teammate to have in a fight, but I definitely don’t want to be hanging out with you.”

Viperion rolled his eyes and walked to the edge of the building. He leaned on it, facing away from the grumpy cat and took his lyre off his back. He idly strummed it while addressing Chat Noir as calmly as he could.

“Ladybug asked us to patrol for the night. We all have our Miraculous now, and we all need to step up and do our part. It’s not just you and Ladybug anymore.” Viperion heard a rough intake of breath from behind him before Chat joined him at the ledge. “She’s been really stressed out lately. She needs a break. That’s where the rest of us come in. We can give her that moment of rest.”

Chat narrowed his eyes at him. “How can you tell she’s stressed?”

Viperion smiled wryly. “I’m the observant one, remember? It’s my job to watch.” He kept strumming calmly as Chat continued to stare at him. Viperion knew Chat was always worried he or Bunnix would discover Ladybug’s identity before Chat himself found out. Even though Bunnix had yelled at him that ’this wasn’t a competition Chat! We’re your ‘get out of death free’ card’, he still couldn’t shake old habits.

The cat just signed again and shook his head though. “Well anyway, it doesn’t look like anything’s happening. I’m calling it a night.” He said and hopped up on the ledge, preparing his baton to launch himself. He looked over his shoulder at Viperion. “You packing up for the night?”

Viperion considered going back to his apartment briefly. “I think I might stay out a bit longer. It’s a nice night.”

“Ooh? Got anywhere specific you’re going?” Chat wheedled, a smug grin on his face. Viperion snorted in response.

“It’s just nice out, and I don’t want to be inside my apartment right now. But if you’re asking if I have a girlfriend then no. Speaking of though, shouldn’t you be getting back to yours? What’s her name again? Marinette, right?” Viperion tried to keep his emotions in check, tried to keep the jealousy from leaking through. He knew Marinette wasn’t seeing anyone, but he couldn’t help being a tiny bit jealous over how much attention Chat Noir got.

Viperion was an adult. The oldest on the team. He should be past all this petty jealous teenage bull. But yet, whenever Marinette was concerned… ’Eventually I’ll learn my lesson…’ he thought.

“Marinette’s just a friend.” Chat said airley, almost automatically, like he’d said it a million times before. And hasn’t he heard that before? She’s just a friend. We’re only friends. You’re a good friend Luka… Viperion only sighed as Chat gave him his signature two fingered salute and leapt into the night.

Viperion watched him bounce away, the slight irritation ebbing away the farther the cat got. Once Chat Noir was completely gone, Viperion too leapt into the night, his lyre still in one hand. But he didn’t head home, just as he was planning to do. Instead he aimed for a certain bakery. Marinette had been so stressed this week, so stopping in to check on her would probably be welcomed. She liked all the heros well enough. And since Chat wasn’t going to visit her…

Moments later, Viperion quietly landed among all the furniture of Marinette’s balcony. He noticed the skylight above where she kept her bed was open. Thinking she was up and wanted some fresh air, he quietly made his way over, bringing his lyre up in both hands. He was about to start strumming again, to let her know he was there without spooking her, when he stopped dead in his tracks.

A noise, like shuffling sheets, came from the open skylight. ’Maybe she’s asleep already? I don’t want to wake-’ Viperion’s eyes widened behind his mask as another sound floated up from the skylight, completely freezing him in place. A low moan, in Marinette’s sweet, musical voice. ’Maybe she’s in pain?’ he thought, torn between hoping for that and hoping she wasn’t hurt. While he never wanted to wish harm on her, the alternative would be-

“Oooh yes… Right there…” Was quietly moaned and dashed all his hopes of leaving without ever hearing Marinette’s sweet moans of pleasure. In the four plus years of knowing her, he’d heard her make so many different kinds of noises. These though… These he’d always hoped, dreamed, he’d hear face to face, if she ever looked at him as Luka that way. He shouldn’t, couldn’t stay. He needed to leave, give her the privacy she thought she had, and take a very long, very cold shower.

“Luka, please…” Viperion stopped dead in his tracks once more. ’Wait, what?’ He looked down at himself and yeah, his suit was still on. And no one was popping up out of the skylight. Which meant…

’Is.. Is she imagining me?’ His brain screeched to a halt over that thought. Did not pass Go. Did not collect 200 dollars. His head turned without his permission towards the opening though when he heard more shuffling and a longer moan.

“Luka, your hands…” Her breathy voice floated up. His own responded by gripping into the sides of his lyre tightly. The low sound of skin brushing skin met his ears. “I love your rough hands on me. Please touch me?” He heard her beg him in her fantasy.

’I need to leave!’ his mind shrieked at himsekf in his head. The rest of his body was not keen on listening though, as his feet silently led him to the darkened corner where he could peer down at her. ’This is wrong and I’m horrible for staying, why am I staying?’ But his hormones and repressed feelings won out. Viperion knew he’d feel disgusted with himself and incredibly guilty later. But for now… Now he peered over the edge of the skylight, and saw one of the most beautiful sights ever. He brought his lyre up to his mouth and bit into a side to keep from making any noise. Oh, Sass was going to give him so much shit for this…

Moonlight bathed Marinette in it’s light, highlighting just how very naked she was. Her head was turned away from his position, but he could see her one visible eye was closed and her mouth was parted open on another panting moan. Her unbound hair was draped over her pillow and oh how he could write songs just from that view alone. His eyes traveled down her body, and it only got better.

One of her small hands was cupping a breast, rolling the puckered peak between two fingers. As she did, she praised Luka on how well his calloused fingers rubbed her. A jolt of pleasure shot through Viperion’s body and ’well that’s a thing I didn’t know I liked.’ He shifted quietly on his feet, the motion finally bringing attention to his rapidly hardening cock. Oh yeah, Sass was definitely going to give him shit for this.

Another low moan from Marinette brought his attention back to her. Viperion chewed on the curved tip of the lyre as his eyes followed her other hand, down her body. She splayed her fingers over her belly and slowly dragged them down, though dark curls, and gently pushed one thigh apart from the other. Viperion swallowed hard as her other thigh dropped open, baring her completely to him. She ran her hand lightly up and down her inner thigh, fingertips just barely teasing a fold. Desire coursed through him as he listened to Marinette plead with him, with Luka, to touch her.

“Please Luka, please touch me there. I can’t take much more of this!”

’Neither can I.’ He answered in his head.

Marinette moved her fingers down slowly, until finally pushing into her lips. She groaned out a yes and her back arched beautifully as she dipped her fingers into her waiting hole. Viperion almost moaned out loud when he heard the wet squelching noise coming from between her legs. Marinette pumped her fingers a few times, coating the digits liberally. She moved her now soaked fingers up to her clit, taking it between her thumb and pointer and rubbing. She tossed her head back, facing straight up. Her eyes still clenched shut thank God for that and her mouth opened wide, she panted and whined for him. She swirled her fingers around herself while her other hand gripped her breast tightly.

Viperion always imagined he’d go slow and gentle with her if he ever got the chance. He wanted to show her how much he loved and cared for her in every way possible. But if she wanted it a little rough as well, he would absolutely do that for her. One hand let go of his lyre and immediately latched onto the prominent bulge in his suit. He squeezed himself, hoping that he wouldn’t make any noise to alert her of her audience.

“Luka, I need more. Please, I need your cock in me!”

Pure lust slammed into him and he squeezed his throbbing member hard, trying to stave off the orgasm that wanted to rip through him. Never had he ever heard Marinette say anything remotely nasty or use actual cuss words. But here she was, pleading for him to ’fuck me with your hard cock.’ He was going to die of blood loss to the brain. Sass was going to have to apologize for him. He knew she had only been Multimouse a handful of times, but she knew what a kwami was. She could take his Miraculous off his dead body and give it back to Ladybug.

Viperion was brought back to the present as he watched her release her chest and, reaching back up under the pillow, brought out a very familiar shape. ’Oh shit, yes baby please.’ he encouraged in his mind as she dragged the toy down her body. She moved her fingers from her clit to spread her folds apart. He bit the lyre even harder as she first teased her wet hole. She dragged the tip from her hole, to her clit, and back, before pushing only the head inside.

Viperion inhaled sharply at the same time as Marinette, her back arching again as she lightly pumped the tip in and out. “Please don’t tease me!”

’Only if you’re good.’ came unbidden in his head, surprising himself at the thought.

“I’ll be good, I promise Luka!” She cried, startling Viperion badly, thinking he had said that out loud. But the lyre was still stuffed in his mouth, and she had said Luka’s name. A quick check confirmed her eyes were still closed, still lost in her fantasy. Viperion let out a slow breath of relief. He felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over him. Maybe that was a sign that it was time to go.

But before he could move away, she cried out his name loudly, followed by “ah, that’s so good!” His eyes snapped back to her. Her head was tossed to the side again, her chest heaving with labored breaths. Her hips rotated back and forth along with the dildo now buried inside her. Marinette cried out again as she pulled it halfway out, before pushing it back in.

“Faster Luka, faster!” She pleaded. Her hand obeyed, pumping the toy in and out of her at an increased rate. She took her clit between her fingers again and squeezed in time with her thrusts. Marinette cried out and moaned loudly as her hips rose off the mattress, her toes curling in the sheets. “Almost… Almost…”

Viperion once again had to squeeze himself in order to stop himself from cumming just as her orgasm hit her. Her choked off moan ended in her sighing out his name once more in reverent bliss. He could see the pleasurable shudders still wracking her body as she milked herself through the last dregs of her orgasm.

’Time to go!’ he thought as she lowered her body and her eyes began to open. Quietly and quickly as he could, Viperion made it to the edge of her balcony and inelegantly launched himself to the next rooftop. Running along the rooftops of Paris with a hard-on was not an experience he thought he’d have, and never wanted it again .

He barely made it back to his apartment, thanking his lucky stars he was able to afford a place by himself. Viperion barreled through his open balcony doors before slamming it and his blinds closed.

“Sass, scales rest!” He cried out while running down the hallway to his bathroom. As the light around him faded, Luka kept running, shucking off his clothes as he went. “Not a word Sass!” He yelled before slamming the bathroom door closed.

Sass was definitely, definitely going to give him shit for this. But only after Luka was satiated. It wasn’t until sometime later, much, much later that Luka emerged from the bathroom. He was very tempted to just go to his room and pass out after all his exertion, but the quiet apartment unnerved him just a little. Sass was a very quiet kwami, but even he made noise. So, tugging up his boxers, Luka went in search of his little snake friend.

Thankfully, Luka found him quickly, sitting in the kitchen counter and taping at Luka’s cell phone screen. The little kwami flicked his eyes up at his holder as Luka came into the room and grinned, fangs on full display.

“Not tonight Sass. I’m still punch drunk from what happened. Not a word please?” He asked.

“I would not dream of it, masssster.” Sass replied. Luka smiled in gratitude and turned to head to his bedroom. But before he could get too far, he heard the tap of a flipper against the screen and music suddenly filled the room.

Well your faith was strong but you needed proof

You saw her bathing on the roof

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya

“SASS!”

“I did not sssay anything!”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine #viperion #vipernette #voyerurism #sass is a little shit

[hullabalooshoneybee]

hey there honeybees! i just made this account on a whim (about 5 minutes ago) ^^”

i’ve been a part of the identity v fandom for awhile but have so far refused to put anything of mine out anywhere public, but i wanted to change that!

so, what should you expect from my account? that’s a uh.. good question!

i plan to post...

- analysises of things such as character’s deductions/lore/skins/backgrounds & major idv events (i.e the hullabaloo tragedy)

- tips and tricks for characters i play (as of 2/26/21; margaretha zelle, luca balsa, wu chang and ann!)

- memes and fanart

- character headcanons (some may be supported by evidence, some are just random ones i have haha)

- updates from official identity v accounts + leaks

and hopefully much more! i don’t think i will make any ‘x reader’ or ship content, but that may be subject to change one day.

if you guys ever want to get to know me, then feel free to ask me questions! i will try to open my questions up after i post this, but i do everything from mobile so it may take a bit ^^”

i can’t wait to meet all of you, i hope we will all get along!

much love,

oakley/honeybee

p.s

i am making an idv discord server! it isn’t finished yet, but i will make a new post to spread it around when it is finished. i hope i will see some of you there! 💛

#identity v #idv #id5 #identity 5 #idvpost #idv blog #identity v blog #new account #growing account #ooc #hullabaloo #hullabalooshoneyblog

[sondepoch]

XXI: Saeyoung's Route (Saeyoung)

Where Futures Begin

Life used to be simple for you. Peaceful. But the Savior had other plans for you, and in moments, she ruined what you thought was your one shot at happiness. Blinded by anger, you escaped the Mint Eye, but that triggered a series of events that would bring you further into the world of brothers Saeran and Saeyoung. And further into the twisted world of your love for them.

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

MASTERLIST

The first year was the worst. But it was also the best.

After driving back from the Mint Eye, Saeyoung felt numb. He had come so close to being fully reunited with his brother. The two of them had smiled together and laughed and joked and things had finally been normal for the Choi twins—as normal as things could get, with the whirlwind of chaos the Mint Eye had brought to their lives.

Initially, Saeyoung had only thought of his own loss as he pressed harder on the gas pedal, with (Y/N) been silent, not saying a word. But after he'd calmed himself a bit more, he saw her shoulders trembling and realized, with a start, that she would perhaps miss the pale-haired boy as much as he did.

Saeyoung had been apart from his brother for four years, which was why it felt so much worse to have had a taste or reunion and then be forced into separation. But (Y/N) had been with Saeran for all that time, developing a strange manifestation of feelings for the boy.

While it was a second parting for the redhead, this would be the first time (Y/N) was separated from Saeran.

And neither of them knew when he would return.

Or if he'll return, a small voice whispered in Saeyoung's head, which he ignored.

That, perhaps, was why the first year back in Seoul initially seemed like it would be so horrible. Neither Saeyoung nor (Y/N) could forget about Saeran, both of them miserable and in grief over the fact that they had lost the boy once more.

But after a few months, when the grief wasn't as strong and wasn't as frequent, they began looking at each other. And it was around this time that they began truly seeing each other. It was at this point in time that their impassioned kisses now had traces of something else, something sweet and tender and beautiful.

They began falling in love.

From the second day they had been under the same roof, the two of them had kissed and hugged and relished in each other's presence.

But true love, Saeyoung learned, ran deeper than physical affection.

A shrill scream rang throughout the house, coming straight from the kitchen. Saeyoung sprinted there, jumping over furniture and couches to reach his target destination with the maximum efficiency. A dozen different thoughts raced through his mind, desperately trying to determine what could have made (Y/N) scream with such ferocity.

"I'm here!" He shouted, barging into the kitchen, only to see (Y/N) standing in front of an empty fridge.

"We're out of Ph.D. Pepper!" She exclaimed, gesturing wildly at the lack of the sugary soda in the fridge that was usually stocked.

Saeyoung gasped, taking the matter very seriously.

"Whatever shall we do, my princess?" He inquired, stroking a nonexistent beard as he considered the possible courses of action. "Fear not! Saeyoung, your defender of justice and knight in shining armor is here to save the day! TO THE SUPERMARKET!" He exclaimed dramatically.

(Y/N) sighed and strolled lazily to the living room, plopping herself down on the sofa. "We can't go to the supermarket, Saeyoung," she grumbled, flicking him. "It'll risk our identities being leaked."

The realization dawned upon Saeyoung, and he then understood why her reaction had been so...dramatic. He sat across from his lover, hating the frown that was now deeply etched across her face when a mischievous solution came to his mind.

"Indeed, Saeyoung Choi and (F/N) (L/N) cannot risk their identities being leaked...but I specialize as a secret agent." The redhead winked. "Give me ten minutes to raid your closet and the person you'll see will be completely different!"

(Y/N) coughed, not quite believing Saeyoung, but that only strengthened his resolve to utterly change his appearance.

Saeyoung winked, kissing her playfully on the cheek before disappearing into his room. It took him just shy of ten minutes to steal (Y/N)'s clothes and change into them, placing a wig over his head and doing a little twirl for the girl in front of him as he introduced himself as 'Ms. Ho-Syun Chua'.

Half-expecting (Y/N) to roll her eyes, the girl instead looked delighted. "Not bad, Saeyoung. But I can do better," (Y/N) smirked. She pecked Saeyoung lightly on the lips before disappearing into his own quarters. He waited with a smile on his face, eager to see what she'd be wearing when she returned, and nearly died when she returned with a sexy smirk, her hair covered in a cap and dressed so stylishly that Saeyoung had to question whether truly found that outfit in his closet.

Though her natural hair color was growing back in at its roots, it was mostly covered up by her cap and in her playful attire, she looked like a younger version of Zen.

Much sexier, though.

It was little things like that, the way she bounced back jokes at him and how she took it as a personal challenge to drink more Ph.D. Pepper than him, which made Saeyoung begin to fall for her.

And not just in a basic, teenage-romance way but in the most heartfelt way Saeyoung had ever known.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He'd asked one night as they ate dinner together, debating whether Toph or Bumi would win in an all-out fight. He'd wanted to ask the "What are we' question at first, but had decided to cut straight to the brunt of it when the moment befell him. "I know our situation is weird, but you're so perfect and beautiful and—"

"Yes," (Y/N) had said, silencing him, not a moment of hesitation in her voice.

And then she'd kissed him harder than she'd ever kissed him before, all talk of dinner and TV shows forgotten.

After that, Saeyoung just fell harder and harder for her.

He had been forced to disconnect his bunker from the network out of necessary caution to hide any indication that people were living in the home. As such, the two had been forced to rely exclusively on pre-downloaded materials from Saeyoung's various computers, which seemed like a lot at first, but as six months grew into twelve, the amount of fresh content seemed to be less and less, until there was none left at all.

Despite the evident lack of things to do, though, Saeyoung rarely found himself bored. (Y/N) truly was all he needed.

And so, the first year was just that: love lost but found again, a year devoid of Saeran but instead filled with (Y/N). It was the absolute worst, with Saeyoung never having missed his brother as much as he did in that year, but simultaneously the best, because he had the girl of his dreams.

After that, life was a blur.

To Saeyoung, there was only (Y/N).

And to (Y/N), there was only Saeyoung.

After the second year together passed, Saeyoung couldn't hold back any longer.

"Are you happy?" Saeyoung asked one night.

The two of them were in bed, (Y/N) about to fall asleep after intense lovemaking, but the question weighed on Saeyoung's mind too heavily for him to wait until morning.

"Hm?" (Y/N) mumbled, awake but not fully alert.

"Are you," Saeyoung began, sitting up in bed. "Are you happy?"

Next to him, (Y/N) rubbed the drowsiness from her eyes and sat up next to him. "Of course, Saeyoung. Why wouldn't I be?"

The redhead bit his lip. "It's been...two years."

He didn't say what the 'it' was, but he didn't have to. She was all too aware of that fact, and they'd both been tracking how long Saeran, Vanderwood, and V had been gone. "This isn't what life is supposed to be like. You have your whole life ahead of you and...I don't want to keep you chained here like a prisoner. "

(Y/N) chuckled, bringing her hand to Saeyoung's cheek and kissing his jaw.

"In all the time I've been here with you, I've never once felt like a prisoner."

"I know. But..." Saeyoung trailed off. "I don't want this to be the rest of our lives. We don't know when they'll return, and when they do, we don't know what our lives will be like."

"What are you saying, Saeyoung?" (Y/N) asked earnestly.

"(Y/N), I've been thinking a lot about this and there's so much I don't know...except for one thing." Saeyoung turned his body and looked at (Y/N). In the darkness, he could barely see more than the scant outline of her body, but he didn't want to ruin the moment.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, (Y/N)." He said.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, too," She responded, giggling.

Saeyoung bit his lip, thankful for his decision to leave the lights off. His face was on fire, and (Y/N)'s innocent lack of awareness as to what he was trying to say wasn't helping.

He took her to hands and placed them inside his own, taking a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst. Hoping for the best.

"(Y/N), will you marry me?"

Saeyoung heard her breath catch, a soft gasp of what he hoped was happiness.

For a second, she didn't say anything, and Saeyoung felt his stomach sink. Then, her lips were on his, the girl's petite frame pushing him down onto the bed with her on top of him. "Saeyoung, yes," She murmured between kisses, bringing her hands to his face. "I want to marry you."

Saeyoung let out a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around the girl's body, holding her close. As (Y/N) peppered kisses down his neck, whispering a soft "Yes" every time her lips left his skin, the boy couldn't keep himself from grinning. Everything after was a product of passion, and Saeyoung wasted no time in flipping (Y/N) over for a second round of what had left them so naked and intimate in the first place.

It wasn't until much later that the two of them actually discussed the details of the wedding.

Saeyoung wanted to get married in a spaceship, he had decided, but after calling KARI, the Korean Aerospace Development Association, he was bluntly informed that no, such a thing would not be possible.

One of their biggest arguments had actually been about the location of the wedding. Saeyoung had stated that he wanted to get married in a church, but (Y/N) blatantly refused, telling her fiance that churches reminded her of the house of worship within the Mint Eye, a cruel place she was often sent to for punishment.

As a sort of stubborn compromise, they agreed that they would decide when the time came, much later.

Of course, like all previous arguments, it was quickly forgotten over binging Honey Buddha Chips and watching cartoons together.

One thing that could never be forgotten, though, was Saeran.

Saeyoung loved (Y/N), he truly did. Unlike others, he had found her and chosen to love her, only growing further entranced by her spell as he got to know her.

But Saeran was his other half. His soul was incomplete without his brother, and the two were tied not just by blood but by the hell they had both endured together growing up.

More than once, Saeyoung mused over how, if he could just have the slightest intimation on where Saeran was, whether he was even alive or not, it would give him so much comfort.

I wish twins could communicate telepathically, the redhead thought as he lazed on the couch.

(Y/N) was in her room, probably taking a nap. Neither of them had anything to do, as usual, so Saeyoung began thinking that he might explore the culinary realm. Barely a week after returning to the bunker, he'd made more chocolate chip cookies for (Y/N) than either of them knew what to do with and had been repeating that pattern every now and then, but trying something new might be interesting.

He pulled himself from the couch. How about a Ph D. Pepper pie with a Honey Buddha Chip crust? Saeyoung nodded to himself. That sounded like a good idea.

He was about to enter the kitchen when he heard a high-pitched beeping play from some piece of equipment on the ceiling.

"Saeyoung?" (Y/N) asked, by his side in an instant. "What's that sound?" She asked while covering her ears.

"The carbon monoxide alarm," Saeyoung responded plainly.

"What?!" She grabbed his arm. "We have to get out of here!"

"A-ah, no, I mean..." Saeyoung gathered his thoughts.

Within the first month of moving back into the bunker with (Y/N), Saeyoung had disconnected any electronics he thought were at risk for giving up their presence. As a security measure, though, he had wired the intruder alarm to the carbon monoxide alarm, mechanically setting it up so that if someone was at the front gates, the alarm would go off.

"I rewired it to only go off when there's someone at the gates," Saeyoung finally said. He stood on a chair and silenced the alarm, gazing hesitantly down the hall.

"Someone at the gates?" (Y/N) asked. "That could be..."

Saeran.

The two of them didn't even look at each other, their minds to in sync with one another. The couple stumbled to the door, equally fearful of what they would find, all thoughts and brain processing systems a jumble.

Who would they find outside the gates? Would it be Saeran, returned at last? Or will it be V and Vanderwood, saying that he didn't make it? Saeyoung wondered, desperately praying that wouldn't be the case.

He paused in front of the door, hesitating with (Y/N) as the two of them mentally prepared themselves for how their lives might change. The redhead felt his fiancée wrap her hand in his, giving it a squeeze before twisting the doorknob and opening the door.

And there, in the distance, three figures could be spotted barely one-hundred feet away.

The first man, a brown-haired man in a black and purple suit, with a muscled arm shaking the barred gate.

The second was a tall gentleman dressed in all black and sunglasses, the only spot of color on his body being his bright blue hair.

And the third: an all-too-familiar man in a leather jacket, with hair so fiery red it's only rival was Saeyoung's own.

MASTERLIST

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

Word count: 2.4k

Notes: WOAH GUYS I complained in my last chapter that I wasn't getting enough sleep AND MY PRAYER WAS HEARD 0_0 All my classes are now online and most of my extracurricular activities are canceled, so I'm getting 10 hours every night! On the downside, the reason everything's cancelled is because of Corona ::/ I hope that all of you and your families are healthy and safe, and I'll see you in the next chapter :)

Comment & Like

Next Update: 03/19/20

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

#707 #saeran #707 x reader #saeran x reader #romance #fanfiction #love triangle #sondepoch #reader #xreader #mystic #mysticmessenger #mysme #saeyoung #saeyoung x reader #saeyoung x reader x saeran #707 x reader x saeran #saeran x reader x saeyoung #saeyoung x reader x saeran #twins #choices #wherefuturesbegin #COMPLETED

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch8

Consequences

TW for gore, enjoy!

Word count - 3,257

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

__________

---Reader---

This is so not what I studied…

“God damnit, Ken.”

Hideous burns extended almost to his elbows. The scorched tapestry of red and black tissue oozed yellowish goo where the deep fatty layer had melted, filling the room with a putrid scent. His hands resembled overdone steak and you cringed at the comparison.

You knew the basics of first aid; everyone you worked with took the same introductory class before their first day. CPR, bandaging wounds, checking the airway… Somehow, you didn’t think the basics covered this level of injury.

But everyone else was outside.

It was up to you.

Plastic squealed under your legs as you shifted to kneel by his head. Foamy blobs dotted the mat where you’d sprayed, but there was enough clear space to position Ken without touching the harsh chemicals. A soft moan slipped through his lips as you moved him, despite your best efforts to keep him comfortable.

What now? What do I do next?

His raspy breathing didn’t bode well. Probably inhaled too much smoke, the idiot. You pursed your lips and scanned the room, blocking out the foul aroma as you searched for the familiar red cube present in every communal room of the facility. Maybe you’d get lucky, maybe it would have step-by-step instructions on how to treat a burn.

Since when has luck been on my side?

By the time you returned to Ken with the first aid kit in hand, soft grunts of agony accompanied his every exhale. The box opened with little complaint to reveal a hodge-podge of bandages and creams, gloves and tweezers and all manner of useless paraphernalia. How long had it been now? It must be close to the cutoff; someone must’ve noticed your absence by now.

Doesn’t matter. He can’t wait that long.

You glanced back at the poor man to find his eyes fluttering open. Whimpers of piteous suffering slipped from his cracked lips as he stared at you, panic taking over as the pain set in. No time to waste.

As if there ever is.

“Hey, hey! Ken, it’s gonna be okay!”

His desecrated arms rose as if to fend off an attack, held defensively between you and him. The huff of his breathing quickened into harsh pants, interrupted by a cough every few seconds. If he didn’t calm down, he risked going into shock. You ignored the alarm bells jangling in your head, the pounding of your heart and the dryness in your mouth. Emotions were useless in emergencies, compromising judgement and ruining rational thought in even the most well-trained individuals. Panic and fear were more dangerous than any weapon on the planet.

And Ken was succumbing to it, far too quickly. Tears leaked from his dilated eyes, his arms thrashing as he searched for an escape. You waited for an opening and seized his biceps, forcing his arms to still.

“N- no! Not you! Anyone but you!”

Why was he scared of you? After all the energy you invested in gaining his trust, what happened to the fragile bond you’d built?

This is not the time.

You leaned back, raising your hands into his view in a blatantly submissive pose and you held as still as you could while he calmed. His brows furrowed in a classic expression of confusion, his mouth gaping like a fish. What a waste of time; you still needed to find V.

“I’m here to help. I know it’s hard, but you need to try and stay calm.”

The same tone honed through years of dealing with your father forced its way through your lips. Placating, calm and reassuring. The voice of someone who meant no harm and only wanted to help. The tension on his face eased another fraction; you were on the right track.

But it was taking too long. How many rooms remained unchecked? Five? Ten?

Too many.

You lowered your hands and surreptitiously retrieved your phone. Time to call for backup. Screw protocol, you needed help. Damn Kotomi…

“Where the hell are you?!”

Aaron’s tinny voice answered after a single ring. You ignored the flare of terror on Ken’s face, if he was in his right mind, he’d be thanking you.

“I found Ken, he’s badly burned! I need you to send help.”

“God damnit! Is Mark with him? Where are you?”

You shuddered in revulsion at the realization of the nearby corpse’s identity. Poor Mark, he just got married. “In the gym. Mark is… he’s dead.”

“WHAT!?”

You flinched away from the speaker. A rapid stream of curses followed Aaron’s shocked cry, but dead was dead. Mark wasn’t your primary concern, or even your secondary. Tertiary, at best.

“Is anyone else still missing?”

This is already a catastrophe. If V got loose…

The thought didn’t bear dwelling on. It wasn’t in your control, none of it was. Even after years of education and hard work, you still weren’t holding the reins. Disaster still struck; people still died. Maybe you were wrong, maybe you couldn’t alter fate.

Maybe fighting destiny was a fool’s errand.

“No, got em all. Hang on a sec.”

His voice shouted orders, muffled as something covered the microphone. Your shoulders slumped in relief at his words. No other casualties, thank the damned stars. Assuming Ken made it, only one person paid the price today.

You could live with that.

“Right, I just sent in some EMT’s. Stay where- what the fuck?!”

“Aaron? What happened? What’s going on?”

Far-off screams echoed through the small speaker. A chill of foreboding toyed across your spine, teasing you with all manner of possible horrors. It wasn’t over.

---V---

He may as well have been a ghost, for all the attention he received. Not that he minded; the solitude allowed him to observe every second of wonderful chaos. The staff focused on others in more immediate need, comforting the criers and calming the panicked. What a delightful display of agony; each face inspired a slough of new ideas in his mind. The next group session couldn’t come fast enough.

Yet one especially tortured face stood out.

Kelly.

He resisted the urge to sneer at her blank expression, as if she simply lacked the capacity to acknowledge reality. Such docility disgusted him. Truly, the woman had no purpose. A wasted life, contributing nothing to society. A leech on severely limited resources. Undeserving of the air in her lungs.

You could fix that.

The artist’s lips twisted into a feral smirk, his emerald eyes glittering with glee. What a lovely idea… It had been so long since he indulged himself. Considering the situation, the risk was low. The closest staff member stood over a dozen steps away, struggling to reassure an incoherent young woman.

“Thank you, Vergil.”

He sidled closer to his target until less than a foot of empty air remained between them. She never shifted her eyes, didn’t bother to notice the predator closing in. His fingers itched as static bloomed in his nerves, the small hairs on his arms standing at attention. Some might call his plan a barbaric form of mercy.

He called it mastery.

“Yours is a cruel fate,” he began.

The merest twitch of her shoulders revealed her perception of him. He tracked the movements of the closest orderly, but the fool was still too far away to change anything. Goosebumps erupted on his skin, an anticipatory shiver running up his spine and rattling the loops of metal around his wrists. It’d been so long since he last saw that delightful crimson splash.

The artist licked his lips and continued, choosing his words with the utmost care. “I see your pain. It never gets lighter, does it?”

He paused, letting his seemingly sympathetic words sink in. No need to rush, not with the glaring incompetence of the staff. He could afford to savor the moment.

“The only peace you’ll ever find is in death. I know it. You know it. Even the doctors know it.”

Another pause as Kevin glanced their way, his attention divided between the artist and several others. Buffoon. Images of the man’s imminent death brought coils of heat to the artist’s gut. Long fingers twitched by his groin but a shouted word restrained him.

Focus!

Right. Kevin’s turn drew near, but today it was Kelly’s moment to shine.

“This might be the only chance you ever get,” he murmured, injecting every word with his own conviction and belief.

This may be my only chance, as well.

She jolted like she’d been electrocuted. Every change in her posture revealed his success; the slumping shoulders, the bowed head, the trembling legs. Any second now… the only question was how she’d do it.

Kelly’s mournful eyes met his, the normal weariness replaced by resigned acceptance. Her lips curled into a faint smile as she released a deep breath and surrendered.

“Thank you,” was all she said.

Then she crumpled to her knees and slammed her forehead into the pavement.

Shocked gasps echoed from mouths in the vicinity, but the effect was localized. Ripples of awareness would inevitably reach the staff, but not in time to change her fate. The artist smirked and edged away, blending into the bewildered crowd to enjoy the show. He was just a face in a crowd, a bystander to such madness. A fly on the wall.

The thought almost made him laugh.

Kelly lifted her bloody face and cracked it against the asphalt again. Stray droplets of crimson splattered those closest to her, staining their white clothing with beautiful crimson. The contrast was as awe-inspiring as ever, evoking ethereal voices to sing their rapture in his mind. He stepped further into the horde, barely maintaining his view as he neared the outer edge.

“Fuck!”

Kevin. He’d do his best, the fool always did, but nothing could stop Kelly now. She rose once more, grinning wider than ever before. It may have eased the ugliness of her face if not for the shattered teeth, broken nose and scarlet lips.

A final lunge. A sickening crunch, more cast off blood splattering the masses. A hint of grey mixed in as her body went limp, limbs twitching in the last throes of her tortured life just as Kevin skidded to her side.

Beautiful.

Horrified screams spoiled the solemn perfection. Perhaps it was for the best, otherwise someone would’ve heard the drawn-out groan vibrating from his lips. He could taste the coppery tang of blood, smell the moment her bowels released. His lids fluttered closed for a single heartbeat to revel in the pulsing joy radiating from his chest down to his cock.

“What the hell happened?” someone cried.

“Jesus…” another murmured.

Just to his left, someone lost their lunch and added another facet of visceral truth to the scene. Kevin’s meaty hands wrapped around Kelly’s shoulders and turned her faceup, revealing an image too grotesque to forget. Few among the horde knew what brain matter looked like before, yet now they all possessed the macabre knowledge.

Well done, Kelly. You had a purpose after all…

Still. If he’d been directly involved, the final view may have achieved magnificence. As it was, her corpse barely qualified as art. Crude, rushed and desperate. The act of a woman without hope.

But it was enough to bring a hum of satisfaction from his throat and a thrill of joy to his deranged soul.

Several staff members rushed toward the fresh corpse. Patients screamed and cried, lost in their own personal lunacy and delusions. Pandemonium and confusion reigned supreme over the crowd.

Weaklings. Now is the time.

A pulse of searing agony accompanied the rumbling voice’s words. He hissed and rubbed at his temples, instinctively trying to ease the pain. A powerful roar followed in its wake as Shadow expressed her displeasure, curses from Vergil and Griffon a beat behind. What new fiend was this, that so eloquently stated the truth?

“Who are you?” he murmured. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to himself now, not when he was so exposed.

I am Urizen, accursed vessel.

Foreboding laughter filled his mind as his blood turned to lava, boiling him alive. Stones pelted every inch of his skin and every nerve howled its suffering. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming, yet a muffled whimper slipped through.

And then, in a flash the torturous pain vanished.

For several seconds, V didn’t dare to move. His breath came in sharp pants, a sheen of sweat shimmering on his skin. There was something different about this newcomer, a form of strength he never imagined and was powerless to resist.

Not that he tried very hard.

Seize the opportunity you created. Let fear not guide your steps, but purpose.

The artist swallowed, twinges of pain still swirling through his muscles. He knew the voice was right, but what shreds of his conscience that remained screamed for him to stay. A strange thing; that side of him hadn’t made itself known in years. Why it spoke now, he didn’t understand.

No matter. Urizen was right. He must make his move now, before freedom danced from his grasp again. It was a shame you weren’t there with him, but he couldn’t waste the chance Ken so kindly provided.

He did not run; the less attention he drew, the more likely his success. The cuffs chafed at his bony wrists and he clutched the chain connecting them to keep it silent as the shadows of branches welcomed him home. For the first time in months, where he went and what he did was his choice to make.

I am free.

But I will return.

---Reader---

Malphas sat in the usual spot at the head of the conference table. Various staff flooded the room, far too many people for the number of seats available. As with most meetings, it was first come first serve so you ended up standing near the door. Not the most powerful position, but it made for a decent view.

“Okay, everyone. Let’s get started. Aaron?” Malphas began.

The head of security stood and sighed. The weight of responsibility colored his voice as he recapped the events of three days past, the ensuing manhunt and emergency medical treatments. By the time he was done, you couldn’t help but count the numerous faces staring at you with anger. It didn’t make any sense, it’s not like you told Ken to murder Mark and start a fire.

Yet somehow, your peers thought something along those lines.

Assholes.

“Two dead, one escaped and one injured... I don’t need to tell you all how bad this looks.���

Your eyes darted to Kotomi. Her catastrophic failure mystified you; it likely always would. To break down just when people were counting on you to stand tall and keep them safe was unforgivable. What might have happened had she held it together, you’d never know.

I can damn well guess.

You would’ve made it outside in time to keep an eye on V. He’d still be here and Kevin wouldn’t be blaming himself for the first escaped patient in over fifty years. Maybe Kelly would still be alive, too.

It would’ve changed everything.

“First off, we’re going to review our safety protocols in depth. This cannot happen again,” Malphas broke in.

He paused to meet every eye in the room, the authority of his bug-like gaze driving home how serious he was.

“Second, Dr. Ishida will no longer be involved with emergency procedures. Would anyone like to volunteer to take over her role?”

Kotomi bowed her head in shame, hiding behind her silken hair as a meager few hands rose.  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her pathetic form. Why did she even work here? It clearly didn’t suit her skills or preferences. Curiosity tugged at you, but the time to ask her was long gone.

“Until the inquiry has been resolved, Dr. Waras will be suspended from any activities on site. Dr. Waras’ cases will be reassigned to Dr. Ishida for the time being.”

The hum of the ventilation system faded away as static fizzled in your mind. Someone shifted their weight, another coughed. This couldn’t be happening, you refused to believe it.

He can’t be serious!

You’d done everything right, followed protocol to the letter and taken on more than you were supposed to because Kotomi broke under pressure. What happened in the parking lot had nothing to do with you, and Ken never showed any inclinations toward wreaking havoc. How the hell were you taking the fall for this?

“Everyone, stay vigilant. If anything further is required of you, I’ll be in touch.”

As the staff filtered out the door, whispering and averting their eyes from you, pure rage battled for control within you. After all your hard work, all your dedication and sacrifice, they were taking it all away. It didn’t matter if you weren’t found at fault, this would follow you for the rest of your career. If only Kotomi wasn’t such a damned coward, if only she’d done her fucking job...

How could she do this to me? She could’ve said something to defend me, don’t I deserve that much after listening to her stupid stories?

Only Malphas and Aaron stayed behind. Kotomi shot a piteous look at you as she left, but you only glared back. Hurt flashed in her pretty eyes and a small flame of victory danced in your chest, but it didn’t matter.

You spoke the moment the door clicked shut. “You know this wasn’t my fault.”

“That remains to be determined,” Aaron replied coolly.

“But what about Kotomi? She was supposed to do half the floor but she left with the patients! She’s the one who failed, not me.”

Malphas pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He looked so old, like he’d aged a decade in the last few days. “Y/N, I’m sorry. Kelly’s family is demanding answers and there’s an uproar in legal. It was your patients who were involved, your patients who died and got injured. I know you did your best, but until I can prove it my hands are tied.”

Even through the sting of your embarrassed rage, you felt sorry for him. Being in charge at a time like this had to suck.

But still.

“Can’t you just stick me with the lower risk patients instead?”

Aaron snorted, crossing his thick arms derisively. “Not a chance. The press would have a field day, not to mention you’d get so bored you’d start the next fire.”

You pursed your lips. He had a point.

“The moment I have an alternative, you’ll know.”

Years of practice helped you stifle the urge to cry and lash out. Nothing good came from emotional outbursts, especially not in the workplace. You had to stay coolheaded and behave.

At the end of the day, the only thing in yourcontrol was yourself.

You took one last look at the flimsy conference table, the plain beige walls and inoffensive wall art. It was funny, even though the fire was on a different floor, you still smelled smoke and burning flesh. It permeated the stale recycled air like perfume, yet only you seemed to notice.

And blood, that metallic scent followed you everywhere. No matter how hard you scrubbed your skin, imagined ichor stained your hands. You couldn’t escape the fragmented reminders.

But to be cast out, like garbage?

Nothing is more foolish than to expect the world to treat you fairly.

The artist was unhinged, but maybe he had a point.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

#Be My Nightmare #my writing #fanfic #v x reader #reader insert #devil may cry #dmc #dmcv #tw: gore #tw: mental health #tw: suicide

[butmomilovepeter]

Little Snip of a Little Man, I Know I’d Give My Life For You

y’all get bonus points if you know the song the title is a lyric from 

guys it’s true i would absolutely die for @parkrstark but i haven’t written a fic without tony playing with peter’s curls in like three months and i think it’s her fault (or the best idea in the world i haven’t decided)

so here’s so shameless peter whump PLUS curls 

i don’t know when this takes place, just bare with me. 

[tw: there’s a lot of blood]

~

“Mr.Stark, I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

“Don’t you trust me, kid? We’re going in.” The chemical warehouse is dimly lit, and he can hear the last thug rummaging through shelves.

“No, no, I do, but it just feels wrong.” The kid sounds so damn sure, but he doesn’t change his mind.

The man comes out from the shelves, his rusty knife dripping in a green liquid that looks somewhat like a melted jolly-rancher, and Tony’s ready to blast him, but before he can, something shocks his body sharply. He’s vaguely aware of his suit going dead and Peter getting stabbed in the leg with that knife before giving in to the pain.

This wasn’t the kind of mission you could just mess up. So how in the fucking world did Tony manage to do just that? He should have listened to the kid. Maybe he wouldn’t be withering on the dimly lit cell floor, desperately clawing his ears and coughing up blood.

Now the kid’s poisoned, and he has no suit and no way of contact with the others.

Yeah, Tony fucked up big time.

The kid’s face is exposed as he cries, because that neat group of low grade thugs were actually not so low grade and decided to learn some stupid spider-kid’s identity. He’s gonna kill each and every one of them.

“Mr.Stark, it hurts so bad.” Peter bites back a scream. Tony had decided hours ago there was no way he was letting this kid die alone, so he gingerly hugged Peter close to his chest as he cried.

For the first time in awhile, he feels helpless.

The wound in Peter’s leg is tinted with the same green liquid as the knife, and while Tony had attempted to wrap it with his ripped jacket, there was no way of telling what would happen if he accidentally touched it.

Peter claws at his bleeding ears again, and there’s so much blood.

It stains the ground, Peter’s lips, Tony’s shirt and hands.

It leaks from his ears, nose, mouth, leg.

Tony wants to scream as much as Peter does.

“I know, I know, it’s okay, Petey, it’s okay.” He grits out in a tentative voice, trying hard to keep his voice from cracking or showing any signs of uneasiness. Something like a mantra repeats in his head as if to say Let him know you love him. You have to show him. Don’t let him die alone.

The other part of him keeps saying He’s not going to die, because I’ll kill him if he does.

He wipes the blood away from his face with his sleeve.

He can’t shout to get their attention in fear of Peter’s sensitive hearing, so when the metal door swings up with a creek, he’s almost relieved.

He still cradles Peter close, shielding his face from the sudden light. It’s a man with a tall build, a buzz-cut, and a thick beard. The look on his face is one of cruelty, yet there was a tight smirk on his face as he meets Tony’s eyes.

“The famous Iron Man, captured by my hand. It’s truly an honor, Mr.Stark.” His words are of praise, but his voice gives Tony goosebumps. He feels Peter stiffen in his arms.

“And who are you?” Tony growls. The man’s smirk becomes a creepy grin.

“Ah, the name’s John. John Kenton. You don’t know me, but my guys have been trailing you for years.” He takes a step closer, and instinctively Tony clutches Peter tighter. John pulls back and chuckles.

“And that’s why you’re here.” He pulls out Peter’s mask from one pocket.

“What?” Tony chirps.

“We like watching what makes the great Tony Stark tick. What he hates, what he knows, but most importantly, what he loves.” John pauses and pulls a wad of gauze from his other pocket. “And because you keep eyes on that pretty little fiancée of yours at all times, we went for second best. The public seems to adore your relationship.” He gestured towards Peter, who was desperately trying not to cry out in pain. He watched as John rolled the gauze in his hands a couple of times before tossing it to him. He caught it without thinking, but didn’t register its use.

“That was your plan? Lure me and the kid to you silly little warehouse and kidnap us?” Tony wiped more blood from Peter’s nose.

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” John snapped his fingers, and the same goon that stabbed Peter came in holding a tray. On it was what looked like water, though it was slightly grey, and a bread-type food. He set it down in front of them without looking up.

“The gauze is for his leg. He hasn’t got long, but it’ll still be fun to watch him die without you being able to save him.”

Tony felt the anger build up inside, and it took every part of him not to fight.

“Then what? You kill me?” Tony asked sharply. John simply shook his head and chuckled.

“Too easy. You’ll see what we’ve got planned.”

The metal door closed loudly, and the scream Peter had been holding in came out in a loud coughing fit. Tony carefully wraps Peter’s leg, and once he’s done he runs a hand through sweaty curls. He slides the tray over with his feet and sits Peter up, bringing the “bread” to his lips.

“You gotta eat, bud. You’ve got a spider metabolism, remember?” It’s a lame attempt, but Peter manages to take a small bite before coughing even harsher, his nose gushing.

“W-What’s happening t-to me?” He bites out, tears flowing down his cheeks. “I c-can hear v-voices. Why are t-there voices?” His hands cling tightly to Tony’s shirt.

“It’s okay, little man, it’s just me.” Tony soothes, tucking his head under his chin. “Listen to my heart, okay? Block it all out.”

He should have just listened to his kid.

~

The next day somehow gets worse. He knows in the back of his mind that the kid is going to die, but God knows he’s not going to give in so quickly.

He’s a sickly green color underneath the blood, and the raging fever on top doesn’t help at all. Tony’s taken to using to dirty water to wet stripes of his jacket in order to cool him off, but it’s almost no use.

“Talk to me, kiddo. It’s boring without your chatter.”

Peter barely stirs at first, but he slowly opens an eye to look at Tony.

“Talk?” He croaks out. Tony nods.

“Tell me a story, any story.” He returns his hand to his head of hair while Peter pulls a thinking face.

“Did I have tell ya ‘bout the time Ben an’ me saw a moose?” Peter slurs, his head drooping into Tony’s chest. Ben. Peter doesn’t mention him often. Only on the bad days.

Tony guessed this counted as a bad day.

“No, kid, you haven’t. Do tell.”

Peter nods, but then winces and touches the blood from his nose.

“Um, he took me to Maine for a camping trip. We were walkin’ and it came outta nowhere. He walked across the trail and went back into the woods. It was like we ‘magined it or something…” Peter trailed off and his head tipped back dangerously, Tony stopping it before he could swallow any blood.

“Tony,” he began after a minute of coughing. “Tony, am I gonna die?”

He doesn’t call him Tony unless he means it.

Tony sighs, and the tears he had been holding in since they arrived came out in one breath. He shakes as his hugs his kid, his boy, as close as possible.

“I don’t know, kiddie, I don’t have the answer.”

But he did have that answer.

~

It’s day three that’s both the best and the worse.

The kid won’t stop bleeding. It’s like a murder scene from a crime drama and Tony wants to burst right into tears. His eyes are hazy and unfocused, his skin boiling so much that even Tony is sweating. Peter has barely eaten or drank anything for three days and it’s catching up to him.

“Tony, Tony, make it stop!” Peter screams, sobbing in Tony’s arms as he rocks him tightly.

“Shh, Peter, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

But it’s not fucking okay.

Peter wraps his bloodied arms around Tony’s. He’s so small and childlike that it hurts Tony greatly.

“I can’t stop hearing them. It hurts so bad.”

Peter calms down after a bit, but it’s different.

The look on his face is a clear indication that he was dying.

Tony gently cups the back of Peter’s neck, using his free hand to sooth him by untangling the knots in his greasy hair.

“Peter, hey, look at me.” He says softly. The boy whimpered and looked up. Tony wiped stray tears from his face, finding a new sense of parental love he didn’t really know he had.

“I’m scared.” Peter cries. And it breaks Tony’s heart. “I don’t want to-- I don’t-”

He chokes on more blood before Tony can turn him over. Tony shushes him and cradles him and wishes it were him instead.

“Hey Peter? Kid?” Peter looks up again.

“Yeah?”

“I love you, you know that? I forgot to say it before.” The words come out before Tony even realizes, but he means them all the same.

Peter tries for a smile, but his features go kind of slack before he can.

Eyes half lidded, Tony takes a shaky breath and waits, trying to give every ounce of love he can in one hug before the kid leaves him for good.

He’s ready to hear the kid’s last breath, when suddenly to door swings open, and it’s not John or the knife guy, it’s Rhodey.

“Tony! Tony--” He freezes when he sees Peter. “Oh my God.”

He rushes to Peter’s side, laying a hand on his forehead.

“He hasn’t got long, reunions later.” Tony grits out, placing Peter in Rhodey’s arms. Rhodey gives a tight nod, and as they exit the cell, Tony grabs the mask from John’s unconscious body.

~

Peter lives.

Barely.

It takes three days for Helen Cho to find an antidote, and another four for it to work.

Pepper comes and goes, and while normally Tony would really need to be pushed to eat, he could eat half of Russia and still be hungry. So she brings him food and kisses his head and holds his hand and it’s nice.

But he doesn’t let himself feel at peace until Peter finally opens his eyes.  

It’s slow and he doesn’t see him for a little bit, but when Peter finally looks at him without blood all over his face, he breathes.

“Tony?” His voice cracks.

“Hi, little man.” He doesn’t know where the nickname came from, but he decides to stick with it. Peter smiles with tears in his eyes, but this time they’re happy.

“I feel like my bones disappeared from my body.” Peter whines. Tony laughs slightly.

“That’s what happens when you get poisoned, kid.”

Peter smiles again, and lazily closes his eyes. Tony thinks he fell back to sleep, but then he speaks.

“I love you too, by the way.”

#peter parker #tony stark #peter parker whump #iron dad #spiderson #mcu #this is purely self indulgent #i did this for me okay? #im a writer okay

[lixiepeach]

Nadia, Part 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC, eventual Stucky x OC

Summary: He’d forgotten a lot of things. He had no name. No identity. No sense of self. But he never forgot her. The omega. His omega. He didn’t know her, name. Or where she was from. Or who she was. But he knew she was his. And he’d kill anyone who dared to put their hands on her. An A/B/O AU of what happens at the end of The Winter Soldier.

Warnings: Winter Soldier Bucky, violence, kidnapping, A/B/O dynamics, mating, explicit sexual content.

Masterlist

Nadia stayed behind Bucky as he followed Steve through the compound. Her hand was clamped tightly in his, her chest nearly against his back. She jumped every time someone passed, pressing closer and closer to Bucky. He had nearly stopped to grab her, carry her so she could feel protected, but he wanted to keep himself open in case of an attack. He didn’t trust anyone. Not even Steve. They had tried to take his omega from him. Even HYDRA had been smart enough not to do that.

Steve took them to an isolated part of the compound, offering them some privacy. The soldier scanned the room, checking every nook and cranny, Nadia pressing herself into the corner by the door. Steve watched them silently, Nadia’s eyes following Bucky’s every move. He stopped when he found the room to be safe, standing in the middle, facing the door. He held his hand out, Nadia moving to his side, her hand gripping his as she stood slightly behind him, her eyes glued to the floor.

She was strange, to Steve. They had found no record of her anywhere. Not in HYDRA’s leaked files, not in any of the bases they’d scoured. A DNA test and background check offered no hints that she even existed. What had HYDRA been trying to hide?

“You’re safe here.” He told them, realising they had been waiting for orders, or at least Bucky had. Steve had a feeling the omega would follow him without question. “There’s a bathroom you’re more than welcome to use.” He nodded to the open door to his left. Bucky had already checked it, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell them they had free will. “Dinner’s at 5. I can bring you food, or we’ll save you some. If you need anything, just ask.” He stared at Bucky for a moment longer, hating the blank look on his face. He knew his best friend was in there somewhere. He’d just have to dig him out.

Steve left them, closing the door behind him. He wanted to sit and talk to Bucky. Get him to remember. But he knew he couldn’t force anything. Bucky was a scared animal at this point. Coming on too strong could push him away. But being around his old Alpha once again had him feeling strange. He’d been the Alpha for so long. Science had changed him. Turned him into something greater. But now...now he had his Alpha back. Well, his body could recognize that. But his mind knew it would take a lot to get Bucky back to that state. But he would give as much time that was needed to bring his Bucky back.

“ Doveryayete li vy ikh? ” (Do you trust them?) Nadia asked after Steve left, judging he wasn’t coming back.

“ Oni pytalis' vzyat' tebya ot menya. Pytalsya otdelit' nas. No ... no ya yego znayu. Ya znal yego. Tak ili inache… ” (They tried to take you away from me. He tried to separate us. But ... but I know him. I knew him. One way or another…)

Nadia sat on the edge of the bed, pulling him down beside her. “ On Captain America. On vasha missiya. ” (He’s Captain America. He is your mission.)

“ On byl. On byl moyey missii. ” (He was. He was my mission.) He tightened his grip on her hand, reaching up to cup her chin. “ Teper'... moya missiya sostoit v tom, chtoby derzhat' vas bezopasnym. Ot nikh. ” (Now ... my mission is to keep you safe. From them.)

He tangled his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back so he could nose at her neck. A small whine left her throat as his teeth scraped over her skin. His mark on her shoulder was starting to scab from when he bit it, his tongue running flat over the rough marks. She whimpered, shifting slightly against him.

“ Tishe. Seychas ne vremya, omega. ” (Hush. Now is not the time, omega) He said, releasing her hair so she could tuck her head into his neck, scenting him.

“ Kogda, Alpha? ” (When, Alpha?) She whispered, licking at her mark on his neck.

“ Skoro. ” (Soon.)

******

Bucky hovered over Nadia as they sat in the kitchen. Steve and Natasha were the only two left. Bucky kept his metal arm over the back of her chair, keeping her tucked against his side, his body between Steve and her. He kept one eye on her, and the other on the two occupants in the room. Natasha sat at the opposite end of the table from them, watching the two. It wasn’t unheard of for an Alpha to be protective over a bonded omega, even more so in the presence of two Alphas, but this was something else. It was almost smothering, but the omega didn’t seem to have any objections.

“ Kak vas zovut? ” (What is your name?) Natasha asked, tilting her head slightly at the omega.

She paused, mid bite, her eyes shifting up to Bucky uneasily.

“ Nadia. ” Bucky said, looking to the red haired assassin. “ Yeye zovut Nadia. ” (Her name is Nadia)

“Can she speak for herself?” Steve asked, interrupting Natasha before she could say something smart.

“No. She doesn’t speak English.” Bucky said, brushing a hair away from Nadia’s face.

Nadia looked up to him as she chewed her pasta. Bucky had a plate in front of him, but he hadn’t touched it. Steve wondered if he ate, or if he got hungry. He’d taken a bite before Nadia, checking to make sure it wasn’t drugged, or poisoned, before handing her the fork, letting her eat.

Steve’s question was answered when Nadia put her fork down, pushing her plate away before leaning back slightly in her seat.

“ Vy zakonchili? ” (Have you finished?) Bucky asked, looking down at Nadia.

“ Yesh'te, soldat. ” (Eat, soldier.) Nadia said, the exchange seeming to come naturally. Like they’d had it many times.

Bucky grabbed his fork, staring at the food for a moment, before taking a bite. Steve could see the tension in him when he waited for the drugs to kick in, or the poison to start working. But he relaxed slightly when it didn’t taking another bite.

“ Otkuda vy? ” (Where are you from?) Natasha asked, staring at the omega. Nadia.

She looked up to Bucky and he nodded slightly, telling her it was okay to speak. “ Ya...Ya ne pomnyu. Ya byl molod, kogda oni vzyali menya. ” (I ... I do not remember. I was young, when they took me)

“ Kogda kto vzyal vas ? ” (When who took you?) Natasha asked.

“ HYDRA . ” She went silent, turning her head towards Bucky. Both Natasha and Steve knew they wouldn’t get anything else out of her.

Steve tried to talk to Bucky as he ate, but Bucky was just as ambiguous as Nadia. Don’t tell anyone too much, they could use it against you, Natasha had said afterwards. Especially people you don’t trust. Nadia had followed Bucky back to their room, Steve peeking in the open door. He could hear the water running, neither of them visible. But his sensitive ears picked up the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the soft whines of the omega, and the grunts of his Alpha. He immediately felt heat rush down his body and he swallowed, quickly closing the door. He could picture Bucky, taking the omega from behind, her hands pinned to the wall, head thrown back as he plunged in and out of her without resistance. He remembered when that was him in that position. Bucky bent over his back, taking him roughly through a rut. He tried to calm his flaming cheeks as he quickly made his way to his room. He was going to need a very cold shower.

Bucky didn’t sleep that night. The bed was too soft, the compound too quiet. Too peaceful. Nadia slept, her head on his thigh, arm draped over his legs as he sat and kept watch. She was wearing his shirt, his scent covering her. A ghost of a smile formed on his face at the thought. A proud smile. His omega should smell like her Alpha. He tangled his hand in her hair, feeling the strands slip through his fingers. He liked the feeling. Soft? Smooth? His fingers slipped down her cheek to her jaw, feeling the joint clench as she swallowed, taking a big inhale before shifting closer to him, her breath leaving her in a sigh.

“Alpha?” She breathed, her grip on his sweatpants tightening.

He shushed her, tangling his hand in her hair again. She drifted back off, her breathing evening out again. But her sleep wasn’t so peaceful.

She was dirty, clothes torn and burned in some places as she was thrown into the room. White. Everything was white. Her clothes were pulled from her body, leaving her naked. She tried to cover herself, but the hands were everywhere. Grabbing, pinching, scrubbing the dirt away. The water was cold. So cold. She was forced into a gown, pure white, her skin rubbed raw. She cried, screamed, fought them as they tried to inject her with something. She let out a high pitched cry, an omega calling for her nonexistent Alpha. There was a crash and the door flew open, the hands leaving her. A loud growl, warning, dominating,filled the air. She curled in on herself, crying as the Alpha stalked towards the men in white. They were speaking, trying to calm him, but his anger washed over her. She whimpered, curling further in on herself as he approached her. Black. And silver...metal. One of the doctors tried to stop him. Crack. Broken wrist. More people entered. More black. Voices spoke around her, but no one stopped the Alpha as he approached the distressing omega. He knelt beside her, reaching out with his hand. Pale, flesh. She froze, watching his face as he touched her cheek, his fingers slipping around to grip her chin, tugging it so she was looking into his eyes. Cold silver. His anger dispersed, and she relaxed slightly.

‘Ne pozvolyayte im prichinit' mne bol...' (Don’t let them hurt me) She whispered, no more than a breath.

His grip on her chin tightened momentarily. Protect. Mine. His arms slipped around her, picking her up off the floor, carrying her from the room. No one stopped him as he left, taking the omega back to his nest.

Nadia jolted awake at a knock on the door. James stiffened, his hackles rising defensively.

“Bucky?” He knew that voice. “Bucky, it’s Steve. I have breakfast if you want it.”

He looked down at his omega for a moment before getting up, moving to the door. He hesitated slightly before opening it. Beta . His head hurt as he looked at the man on the other side, hands full of food. His beta. Memories swirled around him, making him take a step back and clutch at his head. Fingers tangled in his hair as he stumbled back, dropping on the edge of the bed.

Steve frowned. “Bucky?” He watched his friend stumble back, tearing at his hair.

Steve set the food on the desk before cautiously approaching the ex-assassin. Nadia sucked in a breath, curling in on herself on the bed, scooting back as far away from the unknown Alpha as she could. Steve held his hands up, eyes on her as he stopped a foot away from Bucky. He could smell the change in her, the distress starting to seep into the air. His heart was pounding, knowing things could turn violent quickly.

“Bucky?” He asked, kneeling down in front of his friend. “Bucky, you’re okay. You’re safe.” He wanted desperately to reach out to his friend. His Alpha.

Bucky inhaled sharply, eyes snapping to Steve. Light Blue. “Stevie?” There was no lit there, no roughness like there had been before.

“Buck?” Steve swallowed thickly.

“I remember. I remember everything.”

Part 6

#mcu #bucky barnes #steve rogers #avengers #winter soldier bucky barnes #captain america #bucky barnes x oc #steve rogers x oc #stucky #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #a/b/o #alpha steve rogers #alpha bucky barnes #omega oc #abo #mating #violence #kidnapping

[harusha]

Yeah it’s disappointing, I’m always excited for new Pokémon (i was specially excited about Scorbunny) but it honestly doesn’t look like it’s worth it. It’s sad because it’s going to be the first gen I skip, but as a college student I can’t justify $60 for a game when I’d have more fun with a $20 ds game

That’s my big mood honestly. Like I also get the argument of “get a job then!” But then it’s like...why would I spend $60-$120 (and used copies are not gonna drop that much if we go by LGPE’s prices) on that when I can get Dragon Quest 11 Switch, Persona 5 Royale (ehh...I’m not gonna pick it up personally but I know a lot of people are; you can get base for $10-$20 anyway and Persona remakes outside of P3P and P3FES don’t change enough for a full price tag imo unless you really like the entry), Cyberpunk 2077 (next year), VTMB: 2 (next year), etc. or even something “ordinary” like a fancy meal at a restaurant.

I mean you can argue the latter for almost anything, but if a game’s trailers and leaks aren’t great and you (general you), why shouldn’t you go for that or a different game?

Or even something like Dead By Daylight expansions (DLC example of worthwhile buys), Identity V skins (Cosmetics for a PVP game example), Gacha rolls (they’re expensive but put here b/c depending on popularity, some of those games are not gonna shut down anytime soon so lengetivity example), etc.

There’s just so much stuff in the video game world nowadays compared to even just a decade ago to where stuff like SWSH doesn’t look appealing outside of loyalty (and love ofc).

And I’ve also seen the “Digimon cuts mons every game!” argument, and it doesn’t work because those games never built a brand around transferring mons or “collect them all!” (In the West). They’ve never (or almost never) had everything available + they have other features to make up for stuff like Mameo, story, gameplay, etc.