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blondeboyfriend · 8 months

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𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Another remastered oldie. No cute banner this time because I'm lazy. [ SYNOPSIS ] Your slutty boyfriend convinces you to fuck in a nasty bar bathroom. [ WORD COUNT ] 2.9k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, established relationship, dom/sub undertones, sadomasochism, exhibitionism, public sex, rough oral sex, degradation (Zeke calls you a slut, says you're dumb), cum eating, drugs (marijuana), alcohol, Zeke's pullout game is mid tbh, and there's Neopets nostalgia.

Any establishment that opted to have red lighting as an aesthetic choice never failed to put you on guard. There was nothing quite like a wannabe speakeasy to set the mood. You had sad men hiding in corners. Sad men waiting for cute girls to talk to them. Sad men who hoped their presence in a trendy, gaudy bar with old guns hung on the walls made them interesting.

You and Zeke passed by it one cold morning and you mentioned how tacky you thought those kinds of places were. You said you wanted to go ironically. And of course called your bluff and decided your next date night would occur there. You reluctantly agreed. Denying him was a near impossible task.

You were the first at the bar, a disappointment because you wanted to have some form of comfort greet you. But no, Zeke was late as always.

He was probably at home, sitting on his ugly couch, smoking his ugly weed. His perfect body laid out next to an ugly ashtray overflowing with ugly cigarette butts, watching old Jerry Springer episodes on Youtube.

There was no other place you’d rather be. You wanted to be sprawled out on top of him, your head on his chest as he dithered about class disparity in the United States.

We can laugh at Beau and Cletus all we want, but look at us. I pay for high-speed internet so I can watch this shit unfettered and make fun of their shoes. You just complained about two-day shipping not being fast enough. And you ordered, what, loose leaf chamomile tea? We’re just as embarrassing as them, maybe even more so. The difference is that we have disposable income.

On second thought maybe you were better off languishing in a faux speakeasy. The ground may have been sticky underneath your shoes, but at least you didn’t have Zeke blabbering in your ear.

“Miss me?” Zeke purred in your ear before.

“Nope, I’ve been too busy.”

“Do you expect me to believe that?”

“Yeah. I got caught up feeding my Neopet… Or if that’s not an acceptable answer, I can say I was sleeping with your dad. You choose.”

“Neopet. I like knowing you care about things.”

“Did you know they never die?”

You order a round of Cuba Libres.

“I don’t like rum,” Zeke whined.

You shoved the drink in his hand and stole a handful of cut limes from the little container behind the bar.

“Really?” he asked bluntly.

“They never put enough. Trust me. Anyway, that little green Mynci you made in 2001 is sitting there. Literally starving! Zeke.” You grabbed his wrist. “That is verbatim what it says on the website. Starving.” You plopped two slices of lime in his drink.

He stared at you, his grey eyes full of concern. He was high off his ass. “She was yellow.”

“What was her name?”

“I can’t remember, but I know it had like six numbers and probably three underscores.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Every fucking day.”

Laughter overtook both of you. You grabbed a table closest to the exit and he slid his backpack under it. You figured he didn’t want to linger long as well. The chairs were freezing. You shifted in your seat. The cold didn’t help your sore ass. Zeke took notice of this.

“I told you I was paddling you too hard.” He took a tiny sip of his drink.

“I still stand by that you weren’t hard enough.”

“You were crying, pet.”

“They were tears of happiness. You know, like when people win a Golden Globe or whatever.”

“No one gets that excited over a Golden Globe.”

You slumped down into your chair. You had no witty retort. This happened more often than not when he was around. In just about every other social situation you were the paragon of humor, a true queen of comedy.

“Aww, did I hit a nerve?” He kicked your shin from under the table. The pain perked you up. You proceeded to stomp on his foot eliciting an audible wince from him.

“How long are you trying to stay here?” you asked, hoping he’d say something like zero seconds or if I stay here any longer I’ll turn into sand.

“Long enough to have sex in what I am assuming is a gross bathroom.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re high, right? You can’t—This place is gross.”

“I had this planned from the beginning.” He leaned back in his chair. “It shouldn’t be too gross. This hellhole hasn’t been open that long.”

“My feet stick to the—”

“That’s character.” He leaned forward over the table, yanking you by the collar of your shirt so you were inches away from his face. “It makes for an interesting experience.”

You let out a nervous laugh, desperately fighting off the beginnings of arousal. The gross old men leered.

“Ugh. Fine. But I wanna be high too,” you complained.

He glanced at the growing pod of old men. “Let’s hit the bathroom.”

He got up, leaving his unfinished drink behind. It prompted you to do the same. They weren’t that impressive. You walked down the hall turning corners until you saw a sign for a bathroom. Zeke kicked in the door and shoved his head inside.

“I’m pretty sure no one is in here. And look, there are even stalls.”

He made his way over to one and tried to lock its door.

“Well that’s broken.”

He repeated this process on the remaining two stalls. None of them had working locks.

You looked around. “This is—”

“An even better opportunity than I could have imagined.”

You were speechless. You knew he was a borderline insatiable tramp, but this was a lot. You were conflicted. On one hand, getting railed by him always sounded like a good time. But on the other, getting potentially caught by one of those decaying dinosaurs sounded like torture. And you hadn’t committed any crimes bearing that level of punishment.

“But those guys are so weird looking,” you whined like a child.

“Who cares?”

“I care. It’d be one thing if they were like your hot friends…”

“You can’t say that and not specify which ones. It’s illegal. You and I both know that.”

“Fuck… Pieck, duh. Or Colt.”

“Oh god. Really?... Colt?” he sounded vaguely disgusted.

“Fuck you! Yeah, really Colt. It’d be a learning experience for him.”

“I wouldn’t let him join in.”

You smirked. “You say that now, but in the moment the tides may change.” You punctuated the sentence with a wink.

“Alright, you might have a point with the Colt thing. But I’m disappointed Reiner didn’t come up.”

“You know you can just say who you would want to catch us? Like my answers aren’t the end-all-be-all.”

You went to join him in the decrepit stall. You hugged his toned body and buried your face into the crook of his neck. His hands went straight to your ass, typical.

“Reiner, because I know it’d fuck with him,” he yammered on. “Or what’s that one guy’s name? The one that hangs out with my brother?”

“So many people hang out with your brother. You really want a 19-year-old catching us?”

“Hush. I’m thinking. Blonde. Blue eyes.” He paused. “Also Colt’s 19, dumb ass.”

“Colt doesn’t count!! Are you thinking of Historia?”

“What?! No.”

Zeke broke the hug and rubbed his temples. “It’s a boy. He is a boy.”

“Well, more like a man.”

“You’re not helping. Blonde. Blue eyes. He’s a,” Zeke paused for emphasis, “man.”

“I think that’s Armi—”

He barreled through your sentence. “Armin! Yes, him. It’d fuck him up too. He’s like an angel; we’d be stripping him of all innocence.”

“Dude, I’m pretty sure a cute, 19-year-old college boy is getting at least some form of action. We all know who the right option is.”

“Alright, fuck it. Fine. Colt. Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Pervert,” he mumbled.

“Like you have room to talk.”

You grazed his cock with your hand. He smirked and pulled a joint from his pack of cigarettes. He held it between his lips and sparked it.

“I see you’re not concerned about getting caught.” He took a hit and then passed it to you.

You took a heavy drag off the joint. “I’m already going to get loudly fucked in a bathroom. I might as be high.”

You passed the joint back to him and he took a lengthy hit. He let the smoke drift from his mouth slowly. You plucked the joint from his fingers.

“I recommend taking another. A long one.”

“Why?” you said, smoke drifting from your mouth.

“Because you’re getting on your knees the second you exhale.”

You held the rest of the smoke in for as long as you could to spite him. But Zeke quickly tired of your bullshit and took the joint from you. He grabbed a chunk of your hair from the back of your scalp and pulled.

“Knees,” he muttered.

You scoffed. “Rude.”

However you did as you were told and he loosened his grip. He took a hit from the joint and blew the smoke towards the ceiling. The ground wasn’t sticky, but that did little to quell your disgust. You were always ashamed at the depths of depravity you allowed yourself to descend into for your boyfriend.

You looked up at him and asked, “Are you really gonna be able to keep the door shut?”

“No. Undo my belt.”

You gritted your teeth and started to fiddle with his belt. His rough hand rested on your head, softly caressing it. You knew such tenderness wouldn’t last long.

“I know you can work faster than that.”

You sighed dramatically. You quickly pulled his belt off and unbuttoned his jeans. You pulled them down and noted that his black briefs were sullied with precum. You yanked his underwear down and was greeted by his thick cock, a beautiful sight to behold. Drool pooled in your mouth, a small drop of it trickled from the corner of your mouth. Zeke lifted your chin and wiped it away with his calloused thumb.

“You’re foul. What will I ever do with you?”

You gazed up at him. “I don’t know… Let me milk every drop of cum from your cock?”

He smirked. “You’re so fucking stupid. Are you done talking?”

“I guess. I can’t think of anything else to—”

He grabbed the back of your head and forced his cock into your mouth. You lurched forward, using the bathroom stall door to keep some semblance of balance. His thrusts were methodical. Never too deep as he didn’t want you to gag on him, it was too early for that.

“You’re filthy, you know that? An utter degenerate.”

He continued to plunge his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth. You carefully breathed through your nose and tried to not cough on his length.

“You deserve to get caught. Everyone deserves to know what a disgusting slut you are.”

You attempted a nod, but Zeke put his rugged palm on your forehead and shoved you off of his cock.

“Say it.”

“I deserve to get caught.”

His grey stared down at you hazy with lust. “And?” He took one last hit off the joint.

“And everyone deserves to know how gross I am.”

He frowned and blew the smoke directly in your face. “Not quite, but close enough.” He shoved his cock back down your throat.

The bathroom stall proved to be a poor source of balance so you rested your hands on his tense thighs. His muscles contracted with pleasure. You relaxed your throat, finally getting the entirety of his cock in your mouth. You held it there for a few seconds before you felt the beginning of a gag. You pushed his hips away from you. He pulled out and continued to jerk off as you coughed and caught your breath.

“I’m getting really close,” he teased.

You smacked his hand away. You spit in yours and jerked him off while running your tongue along his slit.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. He held your head in place and rammed his cock in your mouth. You grabbed onto his taut ass for leverage. His thrusts were becoming sloppy. He came hard, filling your throat with cum.

“I’m getting fucked, right?” you asked, wiping your lips.

“No, I thought I’d just stand here in this bathroom with my dick out.”

You rolled your eyes and got undressed. He led you out of the stall and shoved you against the sink. He groped your breasts, rough fingers pinching your nipples.

“Ouch!” you yelped.

Zeke laughed and pinched harder. He slipped three of his dexterous fingers into your slick pussy. They slid in and out with ease. He pushed you harder against the sink, the basin digging into your spine. You winced. He took notice and put his hands under your ass and lifted you up.

“Lock your legs around me,” he commanded.

He slammed his cock balls deep inside you. There was no tenderness in his thrusts. He wanted you to moan his name louder than you’d moan anyone else’s. But you resisted. The last thing you wanted to do was to bring any attention to yourself.

“Come on, pet,” he practically begged. “Say my name.”

You shook your head. You pictured those leering old men sipping their martinis, cocks stiff as they heard you moan. Zeke rubbed your clit with his thumb and started kissing your neck. His soft flaxen beard tickled your skin.

“Say my name or else I’ll go find some cheap whore that will.”

His breath was hot on your neck. He pressed his thumb down hard on your clit.

“Fuck! Zeke!” Your legs tightened around his waist.

He placed his hand under your chin and forced you to make eye contact. His eyes were feral, darkened with desire.

“Weak. You can do better than that.”

You hugged him closer, fingernails digging into his chiseled back.

“Zeke!”

You felt your body growing warmer. Every cell in your body writhed with pleasure. You clung to his body as your orgasm intensified.

“I don’t remember giving you permission,” he whispered in your ear.

You attempted to hold back but it was too late. You moaned his name louder than even he anticipated. He held his hand over your mouth, his cock still inside you, thrusting away.

“I don’t remember saying you should start screaming either.” His tone was anxious. “I never thought I’d say this, but please shut the fuck up.”

You glared at him, but remained silent and allowed him to continue fucking you with his engorged cock.

“Good girl.”

The words barely left his lips before he let out a hearty moan. He pulled out of you.

“Hurry, get on your knees.”

You dropped down to them and opened your mouth. For the first time in years he missed, getting his cum all over your chin and down your neck. You were not impressed.

“You look so cute.”

He pinched your cheek and ordered you to stand up. He held your face in his hands. Just as he went to lick your neck the bathroom door swung open. It was one of the old men. Zeke didn’t stop licking you.

“Oh my word! I am so sorry. You, uh… You two… have fun.”

The guy ran out as quickly as he came in.

“I wonder if I could pay that guy to walk in on us whenever I want.”

You went to search for your underwear and found them inside a toilet. You flushed them away.

“No. We talked about this already.”

“Colt would be traumatized if he walked in on this.”

Zeke finally put his dick away. You both stood at the sink washing your hands.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?! Whatever, let’s leave before we get kicked out for being absolutely disgusting. Not that I ever plan on coming back here.”

You walked out of the bathroom and faced the geezers. You kept your head down. Zeke on the other hand seemed to relish in the shame and even tried to high five the man who caught you.

Zeke grabbed his backpack from under the table you two had been previously sitting at. You headed to the spiral staircase that led to the exit. It was one of those rickety metal ones that would be considered decorative in a world that made sense. Zeke offered you his elbow and you held on while you cautiously made your way down the stairs. You pushed through the heavy doors and were greeted by a rush of cold air.

You shivered. “Fuck! I was inside before the sun went down.”

You were woefully unprepared for the weather.

“Good thing I’m a genius then, huh?” He pulled out a sweatshirt from his backpack. “Arms up.”

You raised your arms and he tugged the sweatshirt down onto your body.

“Thank you. I didn’t think it would be so chilly.”

Zeke pointed up at the perfectly clear night sky. “Yeah, we’re in for a cold one. Look.”

You both let out a collective whoa. It was a gorgeous sight; it almost made up for the ugliness that had previously occurred moments ago.

Zeke lightly slapped your ass. “Let’s get moving. We need to shower.”

“Come on, you don’t wanna stare at something dumb ass beautiful?”

If you had craned your neck back any further to see the stars you would have toppled over.“I already have a beautiful dumb ass I can stare at whenever I want. Now come on. I was balls deep in a paternity dispute before I got here. You’re going to love it, the baby daddy threw his gold tooth at his ex-wife. Jerry is pissed.”

#zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke yeagerr smut #zeke jaeger smut #aot smut #snk smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader #.fics #.aot #.zeke #x reader #reader insert

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corroded-hellfire · 11 months

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Eddie with shy(or autistic doesn't matter)!reader where when they're overwhelmed/don't want to speak they use sign language

This was such a sweet request. I didn’t specify if reader is autistic, shy, has anxiety, or other so that you can fill in those blanks any way you’d like. I hope you enjoy 🧡

Words: 600

Most people don’t understand how it feels when you get overwhelmed. It’s something that happens to everyone, but you react to it in a way that is foreign to a lot of people. Words become hard, speaking seems difficult. When you first met Eddie, it didn’t take him long to catch onto this. For many people, sitting in silence can be awkward. With Eddie, it always felt companionable. Comfortable. It was one of the reasons you started to fall for him. He never made you feel weird or different just for not wanting or being able to talk at times. Oftentimes, Eddie knew when you were feeling anxious or overwhelmed even before you stopped speaking. The first time he communicated with you in sign language, your jaw dropped.

You know how to sign? you’d signed.

Eddie gave you a small smile and had to think for a moment before giving you his response. I’m learning.

Why?

For you.

Tears flooded your eyes and Eddie was immediately concerned. His eyes widened and he stepped towards you, but you just shook your head at him.

It’s just so nice. You’re so sweet.

Eddie practiced his signing for weeks, wanting to perfect one question in particular before asking it. He was aware that he could always ask the question verbally, but he thought the question might overwhelm you and you would move to signing anyway. So, why not just ask the question that way?

The two of you are sitting on the empty bleachers out by the football field when you notice him fidgeting more than usual. As well as Eddie had learned to read you, you’d learned him just as well.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Oh, um, yeah,” Eddie answers, giving you a shaky smile. You weren’t buying it, but you weren’t going to push him either. He waves at you, catching your attention as you look back to your book.

I have a question for you, he signs.

Eddie usually only initiated the signing if he knew you were getting overwhelmed, but you’re clearly fine right now. It confuses you, but you go with it.

What?

You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen Eddie this nervous before. Nerves weren’t really his thing. This is the man who could make a stage out of a table any day or give an impromptu speech in class when he forgot he was supposed to prepare one the night before.

His fingers twitch before he begins to sign his question. Will you go out on a date with me?

The question takes you completely by surprise. You’d dreamed that Eddie would ask you out, but never once thought it would actually happen. He’s so loud and outgoing, you just assumed he wouldn’t be interested in someone as quiet and reserved as you. Suddenly, it occurs to you that Eddie may not understand what he just asked. He’s fairly new to signing and mistakes are common.

You want to go out with me? On a date?

Yes.

Your heart begins to thud against your ribs and a shy smile curls on your lips.

I would love that.

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to look surprised. Really?

Yes!

Eddie slides himself closer to you on the bench and holds his hand out. Slowly, you reach up and place your hand in his. He wraps his fingers around yours and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Dinner and the bookstore?” Eddie asks, breaking the silence.

“I can’t think of anything better,” you answer.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #request

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bisexual-horror-fan · 11 months

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"A Lack Of Climax In Act Three." Reverse! Poly! Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

Hello, hello, hello! So at long last, the very much awaited follow up and part two to Lessons In Faking It Redux for Multi-May! I thought hard about this, I hope this is worth the wait and you all love it. I put a fuck ton of effort into this one and honestly it hurt to write! I am so mean to Billy and Stu in this but I don’t mean it, I love em still, I promise! But for now, let’s put that love aside and lose ourselves in this fun AU idea.

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Rating. Explicit. Length. 3k. Reverse! Poly! Ghostface X FEM! AFAB! Reader. Warnings: Cheating. Lying. Fake Dating. Faking It In General. Cunnilingus. Fingering. “Loss Of Virginity”. Vaginal Sex. Nipple Play. Reader Is A Manipulative Asshole. Really Mean Shit, Hurt. Angst. Blood. Gore. Murder.

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The big night was finally here.

To say that this was highly anticipated was an understatement. The culmination of over a year of work for your girlfriends and months of your own effort leading up to tonight. Sidney and Tatum were such good actors throughout this process, it was inspiring. The pair of them had killed a few more people by this point and had been playing up the scared and concerned act amazingly well, doing all they could to keep suspicion off of them. It made you all the more smitten with them. The duality and depth, the complexity they have inside of them, makes you wish you were sandwiched between the pair of them as opposed to Billy and Stu like you currently were.

Sidney and Tatum had this grand finale planned for a long time, a party at Sidney’s house, currently in full swing, was going to be the setting and so far everything was going off without a hitch. You were doing your best to keep your eyes on them while staying close to Billy and Stu, still playing the part of loving and caring girlfriend who was obscenely into them both. Billy was being extra clingy tonight, understandably the murders kicking up around town has him feeling stressed, you were excited that after tonight you would never have to deal with him again. After tonight you wouldn’t have to feel his arms around your waist while sitting in his lap, wouldn’t have to pretend you weren’t cringing inside when Stu would kiss you, the list drags on and on but there is no time to linger on that.

You notice the signal you had worked out with Tatum earlier, now for the next phase and you had to initiate it, time to put all that “practice” to good use. Everything before this was the rehearsal but this was like opening night on Broadway, you had to impress and dazzle and make them truly believe your act; and this was arguably much more challenging than any of the “read throughs” that occurred in your girlfriend’s bedrooms, you hope all the work pays off.

You’d been planning this yourself for a long time but unlike Sidney and Tatum’s openness, you hid exactly what you had in mind, for fun. Sure the two gave lots of direction but ultimately the final cut was left to your discretion, a show of trust from them that you appreciated. You can feel their eyes on you, looking at you from across the room, over the throng of the other inebriated party goers. You finish the rest of your own drink, which was free of any alcohol but the boys didn’t know that, before placing the red solo cup off to the side. Next you were turning in Billy’s lap, straddling him so you were now face to face, your arms hanging loosely around his neck as you looked down at him. “How you holding up, tiger?”

“You know how he is, head wayyy too full, way too stressed and worried-” Stu teased, he reached forward over your shoulder, an attempt was made to ruffle his hair but Billy yanked his head back, dodging out of the way with a sigh, “Can you blame me?”

“No, of course not. But Stu is right, look at all the people here, you are totally safe.” You reassured and he nodded but still seemed unconvinced as he said, “I know that but-”

“But nothing, listen to us man.” Stu cut in and you say, “Yeah. You want us to help distract you? Keep your mind on other things?”

“What did you have in mind?” He asked and you leaned in closer, “C’mon, I can’t show you here, we need to go upstairs for what I’m thinking of.”

You knew that it wouldn’t take much to convince either of them, but one well placed sentence and they were practically dragging you off to go upstairs with them, you have to hold your laugh in at how easy they were. To be fair this wasn’t the hard part, convincing them you were not only into the sex but getting off on it would be the real test. You meet Sidney and Tatum’s gaze as you walk past, Stu leading you with Billy right behind. You fight back your smirk, Sidney hides her own behind her sleeve, a subtle wave, a single that when matched with her eyes said, “Try to have fun.” Tatum hides her laugh behind the rim of her own cup.

It all feels different. Not just from what you did with your girlfriends, that was a give in, but the physical affection you had shared with Billy and Stu thus far to keep up your charade felt less seriously than it did tonight. You wonder if it is because you know this will be the last time or if because this time it is actually going somewhere, it isn’t just kissing with forced enthusiasm and some awkward feeling up, well it was at this moment, but the point is, it wasn’t going to stay just this.

It progresses quickly but that is fine, it sells it as rushed, passionate, all full of need, they certainly seem swept up in it. Your arms wrap around Billy’s neck as your tongue enters his mouth, you are very in your head, trying to make every single movement and sound read as effortless and natural when in reality it was a calculated dance that neither Billy nor Stu knew they were a part of. You really should be praised for this, the soft moan you let out was thoroughly convincing, even though his tongue was unpleasantly rough and he tasted of cheap beer that threatened to turn your stomach. The make out continues as Stu feels you up, rolling your nipples between his fingers in a way that harkens back to trying to tune an old radio. It makes you want to roll your eyes from how boring and not to your taste it was, you think that you could school that into a display of pleasure rather than annoyance, but you could save that for later.

You did feel some minor nerves but when you actually had more of their clothing off, touching them, it put you much more at ease. They are so responsive, alive, much more so than a regular silicone dildo locked into a strap-on harness, even a loose grip and an easy pace of your hand has either one of them bucking their hips with a groan. You don’t know why you were so worried, this will probably be easier than you thought.

Sidney tastes much better than Billy does, she has this almost sweet and salty tang and he has this bitter taste, metallic and sweaty and much less pleasant. Stu’s flavour isn’t much better, and his blow job etiquette leaves a lot to be desired with how he buries his fingers in your hair and forces you down until you gag, doesn’t let up until you push with more force than you should have to on his thighs to be able to just fucking breathe properly. You were glad you pre-lubed yourself in the bathroom to help make this easier because Tatum was right, Stu’s tongue is overrated.

He is sloppy in an overly enthusiastic way that sadly, doesn’t make up for the lack of any real technique, he can’t hold a candle to any of the experiences you have had previously with your girlfriends. Your fingers thread in his short hair and you pull, rolling your hips with a moan as you try to think of Sidney being in between your thighs earlier that very week. Stu doesn’t make it easy for you to pretend with how rough his treatment is, Sidney’s face is softer as is the stroke of her tongue but still you manage to be convincing that it felt fantastic rather than painful and overstimulating in the worst way.

Again you thank God for the lube you applied because lord knows Stu’s oral skills and Billy’s pawing hands aren’t doing anything to help make you naturally wet.

Things progress further and you fear that this might seriously hurt, it doesn’t thankfully, but there is a present ache, who would have thought penetration with a real dick rather than the imitation would feel so different? If anything the few sharp inhales and tense body help, again they think you have no experience and so showing no pain outwardly wouldn’t make sense. You play it all up of course, both the pain and the pleasure, one blending into the other as it progresses.

You insisted on condoms of course but still, it was an uncomfortably intimate experience in Billy’s arms, him looking down at you as you “lose your virginity to him”, he was clear how totally fucking lovesick he is. Doing this in front of Stu, him so close, touching you, talking to you, made this all the worse, it was nearly overwhelming and not in a fun way.

It pushes you forward, you play hardball and really take initiative and all in all, ten minutes, two condoms later you are definitely sore and putting your clothes back on. They were still clinging onto you, soon as your shirt is pulled back down and your jeans are buttoned they have you all wrapped up in your arms and you want to groan and push them off, you just had them literally inside of you two minutes ago, can’t they chill out for five fucking seconds?

Instead you take a deep breath and sling an arm around each of them, not much longer, less than an hour, you do your best to attempt to enjoy what would surely be your last cuddle session in your faux triad.

Said next hour was pretty chaotic. The distraction worked well, got everyone else out of the house except for who was meant to die and you were finally all where you were supposed to be. You were heaving, just finished running, Sidney and Tatum have Billy and Stu injured and cornered and even then, when it looked like they were done for, their concern was with you, a shout to get out of here, to run and the pair of masked killers straighten up, a look over their respective shoulders and a question of, “Should we fill em in?”

“I think that is only fair.” Came your response, a nod of agreement from them along with saying, “You are so right.”

The masks came off and the looks of shock on their faces were a million times more satisfying then the sex you had earlier with them.

Those looks slightly morphed to ones of confusion as you walked right up between the pair, just like you had with them previously, an arm slings around each of them, “Jesus that is a lot of blood, you two are brutal.”

“Had to make sure they wouldn’t get back up and try anything.” Sidney said with a shrug and Tatum, same as always, a tap of her cheek and you smile, a fond roll of your eyes before you lay a kiss down on her crimson smeared cheek, she greets you once the action of affection has been laid down, “Hi baby.”

“Hiya Tate.” You coo in return with a smile.

“How’s your night been?” You ask and Sidney scoffs, “Exhausting, hosting a party is just so much work, you know?”

You giggle, you love this, Tatum spilled to you that after getting stab happy Sidney gets jokey and silly, seeing it in person was too fun, too good for words. “Yeah, you must be dog tired.”

“Mmm, seriously. You know what is the worst thing about hosting a party?” Tatum asks and you respond curiously, “What is that?”

“The clean up.” Tatum said with a wave of her knife towards Billy and Stu, leaning against each other, clutching their wounds and still bleeding at a very steady rate. Finally Stu speaks up, “What the fuck is going on?!”

It interrupts your laughing over Tatum’s joke, and Sidney said, “Awe they still aren’t getting it.”

“You wanna help spell it out, baby?” The blonde asked and you nodded, “Course.”

You let go of them and take a step forward, you crouch down and look between the pair, “So-” you gesture between you and Billy and Stu, “-this? Was an act. What was between us? Our whole entire relationship? Was made up. Completely false, well, at least on my end.”

Eyes locked on Billy’s face, his lips are parted, there are tears staining his cheeks along, cutting messy tracks through the sweat and the blood, “You…You faked our entire relationship for-”

“Months.” You said easily, as if it was a plain as the clear blue sky, cutting off his sentence and finishing it all in one. Stu jumped in, there was blood down his chin, he had been coughing, he was cut deep, “The dates, the talks, the-”

“Sex? Oh my God, especially the sex.” You laughed and Billy seemed to get angry, “No way, I don’t believe it, there is no way that it was all pretend!”

“It was! It very much was.” You stood up straight, and Stu chimed in, “Yeah, I call bullshit-”

“Oh yeah? You need to be convinced?” You ask and when their expressions do not shift you put more of that “practice” to good use. Immediately switching it up, your eyes close, hands in your own hair, a few deep breaths, a few impassioned moans, calling out, sounding pitch perfect as if you were mid-fuck, “Shi-shit, Billy, ah! Stu, right there, don’t stop-”

Billy looked so betrayed, so hurt, it was delicious. Tatum praised, “Man, you do that shit so well.” You thanked her, "Couldn't do it without either of you giving me all those experiences to call back on." You then proceeded to launch into continuing to berate the two men bleeding out at your feet.

“Christ, you are just so fucking convinced that it is impossible for me to not be pathetically desperate for you two idiots like you are for me.” You sigh as you take a step back to be between Sidney and Tatum. “If your small brains can believe it, along with pretending to be with you, I’ve actually been really dating these two on the sly.”

The shock just continues, stunned silence as you heap on, “And it was all their idea! Been helping me the whole way so I could assist them and make this-” You gesture to the messy kitchen around you, “-all happen.”

You didn’t stop talking, “Every time we finished a hang out, a study sesh, a date, I would leave you both and go running back to them and man we would fucking laugh and laugh over all the dumbass shit you said.”

“Oh fuck, remember that night you told us about Billy telling you he loved you?!” Tatum laughed, her hand smacking you on the shoulder and Sidney perked up even more, “Oh my God!”

“I just love you so much-” You three mocked through fake tears before falling into a serious laughing fit.

“I did! I did love you, we both did-” Billy sobbed and you said, “I know that you did. It’s what made it so easy to trick you.”

“I told you everything, I was so open with you an-and you just-” His sentence broke off and you said, “Broke your heart? I know. Poor baby, I can be a real bitch.”

Stu began to make a move to try and get up, holding his side and Tatum’s laughing cut off, she fell to her knees, fingers in his hair, not unlike yours were earlier and she had the knife to his throat. “Don’t think I won’t do it. I’ve thought so much about it. Could slice your throat up and make a massive mess with very little effort.”

“You are all fucking crazy.” Stu spat and Sidney seemed less than impressed as she bit back, “Yeah real original Stuart.”

Sidney sighed then before she said, “So I’m getting just a touch bored so allow me to spell it out. I killed your mom, me and Tate are gonna kill you and Stu and pin it all on your dad. Got it?”

“Why?” Billy asked through more tears and you all groaned. “Oh my God, isn’t it obvious?”

Sidney kept going, “Because your mom ruined my fucking life, destroyed my family but yours stayed together! How is that fair?!”

Tatum chimed in, tone as lethal as she was, “It isn’t.”

“Right. It isn’t! So me and Tate and your little not-girlfriend cooked up this scheme to even the scales a bit.” Sidney was approaching Billy, knife brandished and she kept talking, “It was laughably simple and I am so fucking excited that I am going to be the one to run you through and get away with it.”

Stu was getting weaker and weaker, the blood was welling up from how hard Tatum was holding the knife to his throat, “Fu-fuck you.”

“Awe, we already did that and I gotta say, it wasn’t anything to write home about. You both called it, Billy's fingering is terrible, and Stu couldn't use that tongue properly to save his life! I dunno how I managed to fake my way through that mess.” You mocked him further still before saying. “But really we should wrap this up so in closing, Stu?”

You turned to him, “You are without a doubt one of the biggest, dumbest, most undeservedly overconfident assholes I’ve ever had the displeasure of getting to know.”

Turning to the other you say, “And Billy? You are a pathetic, whiny, fucking momma’s boy who no one is gonna miss.”

“Cold blooded!” Tatum laughed and Sidney cheered, “Well said! Couldn’t have put it any better myself.”

A look from brunette to blonde, knives at the ready, positioned just so, you watch with bated breath as there is a question of, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

#Reverse!Poly!Ghostface X Reader #slasher x reader #Ghostface x reader #BHF writing #Multi-May #AT LONG LAST #IT IS HERE #FINALLY #Hope it was worth the wait #Enjoy the food #Eat it up

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whump-tr0pes · 3 months

Text

Honor Bound 6 - 25

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Contents: PTSD, Ellis is pregnant and also a grumpy asshole, themes of self-harm, Ellis being cringe, past captivity, past child abuse, fucky coping mechanisms around past child abuse, discussion of murder, angst, recovery

It kept occurring to Isaac that there really wasn’t much to the town of Laporte. Not the proper downtown area, anyway. There was the general store, the post office that doubled as the gathering space, the clothing and alterations shop, the feed and machinery shop, the tannery, and a few other buildings that Isaac couldn’t deduce the use for just from looking at them. He wondered if some of them had a seasonal use, or if some of them stood empty. The town had the look of a place that had been abandoned for a long time and was only now starting to fill up with people again. Still, it had never been large to begin with – that much was obvious. He could see the entire town at once, glancing down the street. There were so few places to run, to hide, to find cover.

As if Gavin could sense his unease, he nudged Isaac’s shoulder. “You okay?” Gavin murmured.

“Of course,” Isaac said flatly. “Just looking around.” General store, clothing shop, post office. Feed and machine shop, tannery. Right side of the street, left. He tried to tell himself that his eyes were sweeping both sides of the street equally, that he was giving equal attention to each building as he looked around casually for threats.

He tried to tell himself that his eyes weren’t flicking to the door of the post office every few seconds.

Gavin followed Isaac’s gaze with his own and squeezed Isaac’s hand. “I… I don’t need to be in town, Isaac, I just wanted to be outside—”

“No,” Isaac snapped. He bit his tongue, regret flooding him. “I’m sorry. No. It’s alright.”

Gavin held Isaac’s gaze for a long moment. Isaac’s stomach clenched as he realized Gavin’s lips were thin, his grip shaking. “Oh… Gavin, are you--?”

“Just cold,” Gavin huffed. His head fell forward, and Isaac pressed a kiss to his forehead. “But I don’t care. I want to be outside in the sun.”

Isaac blew out a slow breath through his nose and pulled Gavin close to his side, sliding an arm around his waist to support him. “Of course. Of course. Let’s… yeah. Outside.” He glanced up, tilting his face back for the warm rays that pushed away the fall chill.

The door to the post office swung open. Isaac’s head snapped forward. His stomach twisted. Ice choked his veins, and his hand closed around the gun in his waistband.

“Well, if it isn’t bitchboy out of bed at last,” came a voice he recognized. His muscles ached from how hard they were locked, holding him in place.

“Hey, Ellis,” came Gavin’s reply beside him. Isaac blinked, and he was staring at Finn and Ellis as they strolled out of the post office – Ellis looking uneasily at Gavin, and Finn with a concerned look at Isaac.

Isaac numbly released the gun. It remained tucked in his waistband. He hadn’t frozen that badly in years, not since—

Turn the corner. There was a guard there, shocked. Didn’t know Isaac was coming. Reached for his gun. Isaac raised his. Finger tightened on the trigger.

He can’t.

Isaac blinked away sudden tears as Finn and Ellis approached them. “Hey,” he croaked. “Hey, guys,” he tried again, and his voice cooperated this time.

“Hey yourself,” Ellis said with a groan. “Guess who’s got back pain today?” They looked around. “Oh? Just me? Thank god, whenever I ask that around Vera or Gray they never let me hear the end of it.”

“How are you two?” Finn asked, but they were looking only at Isaac. “Were you, um… expecting someone else? Edrissa doesn’t come into town, not without—”

“We weren’t… expecting Edrissa,” Isaac said weakly. The fresh cuts on his arms itched. The unbroken skin between them itched more.

Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Then… why…?”

“How’re you feeling, your highness?” Ellis said with another less-than-gentle nudge to Gavin. “You’re up, which is… more than I was expecting, actually.” They let out a laugh with a slightly manic edge that finally broke through the fog in Isaac’s mind.

He blinked. “Jesus, Ellis. You haven’t called him ‘your highness,’ in…”

“Yeah, maybe not in the greatest of taste…” Finn said gently.

Ellis let out a shrill laugh. “Yeah, no, totally, I’m just… trying to make him feel like old times, like… nothing’s changed, we’re still just… you know, you’re our bitchboy, we’re all one big happy family, like… um… b-before.” They lapsed into silence just as quickly as they had spoken and stared at the ground between their feet.

Isaac’s throat ached as he swallowed hard, looking between Gavin and Ellis. Finn was staring at their partner with their mouth slightly open. Gavin shivered against Isaac’s side, just as he had been doing almost every moment for the days since Isaac had pulled him from the basement.

Gavin stepped forward and put a thin hand on Ellis’s shoulder. “You have no idea how many times I wished I could have another chance to be the family’s bitchboy again,” he said, with a deeply solemn tone.

Ellis’s head snapped up with speed that rivaled a gunshot. Their eyes were wide, lips parted, and they stared at Gavin, unmoving.

“Oh,” they gasped. “Oh, you’re making a joke. Oh, thank fuck. I thought that fucker really did fuck with your head.”

Gavin managed a painful-sounding laugh. “Not like that,” he said, voice softening.

Isaac blinked, seeing the basement, the barrel of Schiester’s gun pointed at his heart.

“I w-want to be with him,” he croaked, his eyes fixed on Schiester. “I w-want…” He swallowed thickly. The words burned his tongue, but he pushed them out. “I want to… Please, l-let me be his… his plaything… again. Please… h-hurt me… for him.”

Isaac swallowed again. Today is a rough day. I’m aware of myself enough to know that today is a rough day. And that’s… something, at least. His hand shook in Gavin’s, and he loosened his grip. He forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out.

“So you’re doing, um… better, then,” Ellis said weakly, their frenetic jokes gone. They chewed their lip as they glanced at the retraced scars on Gavin’s face. “You look… better.”

“Yeah, Ellis,” Gavin said. He offered them a soft smile. “Thanks for asking. I’m… I’m doing okay.”

“Good.” Ellis nodded slowly. “That’s good.”

Finn spoke, their eyes searching Isaac’s face. “And you, Isaac? You doing alright?”

Isaac’s throat tightened. He pulled Gavin closer to him, happier to keep everyone focused on Gavin. “Um, yeah,” he said. He winced internally as his voice broke. “Yeah. I’m okay. Just… relieved to have Gavin back.” He stared at the ground, ignoring how he could now feel all of their gazes on his face like a physical touch.

Gavin’s gaze was heaviest. He knew about the… the scars. Vera didn’t even know about them yet, although Isaac knew they would probably all find out eventually. A finger of shame crept up his spine. Goosebumps crawled across his skin and pricked the cuts on his arms.

The door to the post office slammed open, and Isaac flinched like he’d been slapped. Laughter poured out of the open door. Two people who Isaac didn’t recognize came out, waving back to someone inside, smiles wide and boisterous. Finn turned to follow Isaac’s gaze.

“Relax, Isaac,” Ellis said, a hint of sarcasm returning to their voice. “Your boy’s back.”

Isaac swallowed hard as his gaze shifted to the ground again. “Yeah, I know,” he murmured. He wanted to leave, to hide. Not to seek cover, as he would from spraying bullets – but as he had once wanted to hide from Rosa, when her fury at him burned hottest, and he knew he could not buy a reprieve with a cleaner shot, a harder hit, a tidier room.

He never hid, though. After he ran from his mother, he never ran from his problems again. Until he ran from the guard who killed Jordan.

“Fuck,” he breathed, and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Who’s here, Isaac?” Finn whispered. Gravel scraped under their shoe, and Isaac forced himself to open his eyes and look at them. Their face was pale, their eyes wide, and their hand was wrapped around Ellis’s wrist. “Is it not safe here?”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Ellis spat through their teeth. “Are you—”

“No,” Isaac said, holding out a hand to them both. His head spun. Gavin is safe, but is anyone safe at all with Rosa here…? He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head to clear it. “No. Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m just… having a rough day. Can we… can we maybe… keep talking and just… walk towards the house?”

“Do we need to call the others?” Finn murmured.

“Fuck, no,” Isaac ground out. His throat clogged with frustration. “No, just… it’s just hard for me to think right now. The others are fine. Just. Gavin, come on and—” He didn’t wait for an answer before he turned and half-dragged Gavin in the opposite direction they had just come. Ellis and Finn jogged to keep up.

“Okay, we’re fine and just going for a nice run with a pregnant person. Cool,” Ellis groused.

“Sorry,” Isaac huffed. He slowed his stride. “Sorry.” He forced himself to take a deep breath. As much as it made the hair on the back of his neck prickle to have his back to the post office, he found his chest didn’t feel nearly so tight now that he was walking away from it. With another deep inhale and exhale, his arm around Gavin’s waist relaxed a little as well. “Sorry,” he whispered, just for Gavin, and pressed a kiss into Gavin’s hair.

Gavin said nothing, just looked at Isaac with unfathomable worry in his eyes. Isaac’s heart twisted.

They were already out of downtown Laporte and down the lane surrounded by wooded forest once more. They left the road and wove between the trees. Isaac slowed his steps even further. The sun dappled the bed of dead pine needles on the ground, and a cool breeze ruffled the strands of Isaac’s hair that had pulled free of the elastic. He cleared his throat and slipped his arm from around Gavin’s waist so he could squeeze his hand.

“So, um, Rosa lives here,” he said softly.

Finn stopped dead in their tracks. Ellis kept walking straight into a branch at face-level and let out a squawk.

“…the Rosa?” Finn finally managed.

“Yup,” Isaac said.

For a long moment, the only sound was the wind blowing through the canopy of the trees above. Then, Ellis said to Gavin, “Did you know about this?”

“Yes,” Gavin murmured.

“And she’s still alive?” Ellis snapped.

Gavin’s jaw flexed. “He wouldn’t—”

“What fuckin’ good are you if she’s still—”

“Hey,” Isaac snarled, stepping between them both and drawing himself up to his full height until he towered over Ellis.

Ellis rolled their eyes and crossed their arms over their chest. “I was mostly joking, Isaac, calm down.” They jutted their chin out at Gavin. “I’m just surprised he didn’t take a run at her, that’s all. Any one of us would have—”

“He did,” Isaac said through his teeth. “He wasn’t exactly in the best condition to challenge her for my soul.”

“Not your soul,” Finn said with a shrug. “But, like… your childhood.”

“I wasn’t a child,” Isaac said helplessly.

“For fuck’s sake, Isaac,” Gavin said with a groan. He threw a look at Finn and Ellis. “This is not the first time we’ve had this conversation.”

“Wait, you can’t just…” Isaac spread his hands.

“But that’s why you’re so jumpy today, huh?” Finn said softly. Isaac fell silent and nodded. He dug a toe into the layer of pine needles, all the way down to the topsoil. The top of his boot came away wet and stained.

Everyone was silent for a long time. After a while, Ellis began walking again, and Isaac was grateful to no longer have everyone’s eyes on him. Gavin’s fingers were cold where they entwined with his, but Gavin was smiling; nothing could have torn Isaac away from his side, walking with his family through a peaceful forest with nothing to fear but his own past.

“So… what are we gonna do about this?” Ellis said.

Isaac pushed out a slow breath. “There’s nothing to be done,” he mumbled. “It’s not like she’s a syndicate leader or something. She fights against the syndicates, or at least she did at some point. We can’t just kill her.”

Ellis chuckled. “I asked what we were going to do, not whether we were going to kill her. But I’m glad to see your brain moving in the right direction. No, I mean… so, are we moving again?”

“No,” Isaac said quickly. “No way. This is the safest place for Gavin, and Zachariah. It’s the first chance we’ve had at some real community. Besides.” He squeezed Gavin’s hand. “We just got here.”

“You used to live on the road, and I’m okay with people being less than enthused about me if you don’t have to live like this,” Gavin replied.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m not moving again while I’m pregnant,” Ellis called from ahead.

Finn rolled their eyes. “Real nice, Ellis.”

“Fine, but you’re moving all the boxes,” Ellis griped.

“What, all two of them?” Finn shot back.

“Here’s what I want to know,” Ellis said, finally turning around. “Does Vera know?”

Finn looked at Isaac. He froze under the attention. Gavin’s thumb moved back and forth against his hand, and he pulled Gavin close against his side again.

“No,” Isaac said roughly.

Ellis’s head fell back in a raucous laugh. “Hoo boy, I can’t wait to see her reaction. That bitch’ll be dead within an hour, just you wait.”

“I need to talk to her about a few things tonight, maybe we’ll get to it,” Isaac murmured. Gavin pressed a kiss to his shoulder. His stomach bucked at the simple touch.

If she’s still willing to talk to me after she finds out I decided to punish myself for losing Gavin after all, I’ll tell her about Rosa.

“Well, fill me in on how it goes,” Ellis said, their laughter not yet died down. “I need a play-by-play of how exactly she intends on handling this situation. And then obviously ask her if she needs help dumping the body.”

Isaac forced a smile. “Yeah. Obviously. Thanks for, um… for listening.”

“Of course,” Finn said. They pulled Isaac into a hug. He unwound his arm from around Gavin’s waist and crushed Finn in his embrace before pulling away, feeling only a little shaky.

“Any time,” Ellis said with a rare tone of solemnity. “You’re family, Isaac. Someone fucks with one of us… especially the baby version of one of us…” They shrugged tightly. “I don’t know, dude. It’s fucked up, what she did. I mean, I’m an asshole, but I still can’t imagine doing what she did to a fucking kid. Maybe it’s because I’m a parent. I don’t know. But… still.” Ellis lightly punched Isaac on the arm. He offered them a hesitant smile. “We’re here for you. Obviously.”

“Thanks, Ellis,” he whispered.

“Yeah, shut up,” they whimpered, their voice suddenly tight. They turned in an abrupt about-face and headed back to the lane towards their house. “Fucking pregnancy hormones,” they hissed, and dashed tears from their eyes.

Gavin smiled and returned to Isaac’s side once more. It felt… perfect, easy, safe. As Isaac’s slung his arm around Gavin’s waist once more, and Gavin turned his head to place a kiss on Isaac’s shoulder, it felt like the one thing that made sense in the uneasy noise of Isaac’s mind. He couldn’t suppress a smile as he followed Ellis and Finn down the sun-streaked lane as the wind blew the autumn leaves about their feet.

Continued here

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#honor bound 6 #whump #hurt/comfort #Isaac/Gavin #Fillis #PTSD #pregnancy #themes of self-harm #Ellis is a cringelord: confirmed #past captivity #past child abuse #complicated feelings about abusers #frank discussion of murder #angst #recovery #let's take some bets everyone #who thinks Rosa is surviving this book #and who thinks she's dying

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chameleon66 · 4 months

Text

Laugh for Me!

Ships: Intrulogical (Logan x Remus)

Word count: 2785

Warnings: Censored swearing, Remus being Remus, mild angst, tickling, pranks, teasing (Let me know if I need to add anyhting)

Remus was unhinged in every way possible, good and bad. Part of the reasoning behind it was just who he was. I mean he is the personification of every morbid, sexual or intrusive thought that danced its way through Thomas’s head so no one could really blame him for being himself. But another part of it was because he enjoyed others' reactions to it, every reaction he got.

When Patton would scream in terror or when Virgil would hiss at him, it all filled him with glee. He loved observing the other sides reactions to his antics and figuring out what freaked them out and what didn’t freak them out.

But one reaction he did love getting from others was laughter, other’s laughing just made his heart figuratively explode in his chest. So after stewing on the fact that he enjoyed making other people laugh for a fraction of a second he created a new experiment and so began “Operation make every side laugh and figure out what makes them laugh so he can exploit it whenever necessary and also think of a shorter name for this operation.”

Surprisingly Virgil was the easiest one to figure out with minimal research, he laughed whenever Patton made a pun and Remus couldn’t tell at first if it was because it annoyed Logan when Patton made puns or if he actually liked them, so he would have to gather more data.

Luckily after some spying, he found that even when Logan wasn’t in the room when Patton made puns, the jokes always made Virgil laugh, quite honestly he was expecting something very different from ‘Charlie Frown’. But he wrote it down in his notes nonetheless as Virgil’s Hysterical Hacker (That's the name he came up with).

Patton was also elementary to figure out, as the happiest side he would laugh at a lot of things. At first Remus thought that Patton’s Hysterical Hacker would also be puns but it occurred to him Patton didn’t really laugh at puns, even if they weren’t made by himself but then Remus made a discovery.

One day as he went to the kitchen to fetch one of his Cock shaped popsicles from the fridge he found Patton sitting in the kitchen on the computer laughing like a hyena of helium, Remus almost had to be concerned if he was breathing or not.

When he asked Patton what was so funny he was shown a twenty minute compilation video of cat videos on youtube. Some cat’s fell into boxes and others played with balls of yarn but regardless it all made Patton squeal so Remus wrote ‘Cat videos’ down as Patton’s Hysterical Hacker.

Roman took a bit of investigating but as it turned out the answer was right in front of Remus' face, it was rooted in his dear twin brother’s love of Disney. One family love night it was Roman’s turn to choose the movie and he went with a Winnie the Pooh movie much to Remus’s, Janus’s and Logan’s displeasure.

Watching the movie was like folding socks level boring but then something caught Remus interest, after the gang tried to catch a ‘Backson’ all of them fell down a hole except for Piglet who then was challenged to find something to get them out of the hole with.

Piglet’s attempts were all stupid and fueled by miscommunication between Piglet and Rabbit. The scene wasn’t what caught Remus’s interest though it was Prince's not so charming reaction that got him listening.

Roman was rolling with laughter throughout the scene which led Remus’s to the ever so boring conclusion that Roman’s hysterical hacker was, family humor. Something that could be found in every Disney movie ever to exist.

Remus still wrote it down though and moved to the next side.

Janus was a challenge, despite having lived with him in the darkisde of the mindscape for most of his life, Janus never really went into hysterics, sure he’d chuckle but that was all Remus usually saw out of him.

But Remus did get an idea, Janus always seemed to be amused at other’s pain or displeasure like when Logan would get a papercut and Patton would insist on kissing it better or when Virgil’s pet spider Kat would escape his room and Patton would jump on the table and scream.

So as an experiment Remus poured a big helping of salt into Roman’s coffee one morning and when Roman began screaming of how it felt like he was ‘drinking the water of cold, unforgiving and salty seas’ Janus went into his deep villainous belly laugh at the scene. While Logan just rolled his eyes and Patton ran up to Roman all concerned like the father figment he was.

(Virgil was still asleep because he’s not a morning person)

That result said it all, Janus’s Hysterical hacker was another's pain/misfortune. Remus beamed as he wrote it down in his notes.

Hysterical Hackers

Emo widow — puns

Daddy — cat videos

Romano Cheese — family friendly humor

Lies and dulls — other’s pain

Logie bear —

But as Remus finished writing he came to a realization, there was one side left to figure out. His boyfriend. Logan.

You’d think that being his lover Remus could figure out his Hysterical Hacker with ease but now that Remus was thinking about it, he hadn’t really seen Logan laugh before. Maybe he had seen him chuckle once or twice but Remus couldn’t even recall a specific time he saw Logan do that.

That realization made Remus feel sad, He couldn’t remember a time his own boyfriend, the freaking light of his light, had laughed.

But that realization also made Remus more determined than ever to complete his research project. He'd make Logan laugh even if it was the last thing he would ever do.

It was time to get serious. Logan as the logical side didn’t spend time doodling on emotions or things like that so Remus had little to go off of. So that meant he’d need to experiment.

Remus cracked joke after joke around Logan day after day but came up empty handed each time.

Remus upped his pranking game on all of the other sides but each time Logan observed a prank happening he would only roll his eyes at the display.

Remus spied on Logan for hours on end but he got nothing even, when Logan was alone he wouldn’t laugh at anything.

Remus kept trying day after day to get Logan to laugh, he kept getting more and more desperate for it. It almost became like a craving to hear Logan laugh; it was starting to drive Remus insane. He just had to hear Logan laugh, he just had to!

After a full week, Remus had run out of patience so that meant he would need to get information straight from the source and not through spying, experiments or research.

“Logan, I need your help.” Remus rose up into Logan’s room with no warning and interrupted the rhythm of clattering keys of Logan’s computer.

Logan turned in his spinnable desk chair to face his boyfriend, Logan’s rise teemed with interest. They had collaborated on many different projects together and it only made sense really, they were a perfect pair for answering questions.

“Yes Remus, how may I be of assistance?” Logan asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Remus didn’t hesitate before he started explaining his predicament to Logan.

“So I started this research project a few weeks ago about what each of the sides hysterical hackers are.”

Logan’s head tilted to the side like a curious puppy’s would.

“Hysterical Hacker?”

“What makes each side laugh, like really laugh.” Remus contextualized

“Ok, please continue.”

“So after I figured out the other’s Hysterical Hackers and I moved on to yours but I couldn’t really find anything that makes you laugh even after I did experiments, observations, you know that sciency stuff you're supposed to do.”

Logan gave a hum of understanding before he got up from his desk chair before speaking again. “I must admit I don’t have much of a sense of humor.”

“Well I could tell that much.” Remus joked sarcastically but inside he was bursting with curiosity. He had come to find out what makes Logan laugh but it appeared that even Logan didn’t know.

“But if you wish, I can help you gather more data.” Logan offered and Remus didn’t hesitate before he responded.

“Yes, so where do we start Logie?”

“Firstly I’d like to hear what results you got with the other’s”

“Well P*ssys is family disney humor, papa bear’s is cat videos, Double dee’s is other pain and tickle me emo ‘s is pun of all things.”

Logan's face tinged with a blush and Remus wondered for a minute if it was something he said. Logan didn’t mind Remus’s colorful vocabulary and his usual reaction to it was an eyeroll, so what prompted the blushing?

Logan centered himself and pushed more words out. “I see, well then since everyone’s Hysterical Hacker is different, we can assume that mine is different too.”

“Lo lo are you ok, your face is all red?”

“I’m quite alright Remus.” Logan’s answer however did not satisfy Remus and he didn’t need the snake like lie detector to know Logan wasn’t telling him the truth. So Remus did the only Logical thing.

Remus ran forward full speed at Logan and tackled Logan down to the floor, sitting on his hips and hands pushing down on his belly to keep him down

“Re–Remus what are you doing?” Logan’s voice was up a few ocatives and the blush on his face got redder and spread across his face.

“You are going to tell me why you are all blushy or I will leave at the top of a broken ferris wheel until you confess!” Remus never made an empty threat and Logan knew this all too well.

“I’m fine–just get your hands off–off me!” Logan's voice also sounded a bit strained and Remus could help but wonder why. That’s when he noticed Logan’s belly trembling under his hands and before Remus could truly think it through he began skimming his fingers over Logan’s tummy.

Logan’s lips flattened and he bit down on his bottom lip which was enough for Remus to understand.

“Aww… is the nerd ticklish?” Remus asked in a baby voice that made Logan so flustered he couldn’t even get words out.

But that still answered Remus' question, Remus found a way to make Logan laugh and he’d say now was a pretty good time to exploit it.

Given Logan seemed to be able to hold in his laughter while Remus was tickling his tummy that meant it wasn’t his weak spot and that meant Remus would need to experiment some.

“Where are you ticklish Starlight?” Remus asked, pausing the movement of his hands for Logan to catch his breath and answer. Remus, being smart, also pulled both of Logan's hands above his head and put them both in his left hand freeing his right hand for tickling.

“I am not ticklish!” Logan insisted, which was the biggest lie Remus ever heard.

“Oh ok, so if I were to pinch your side then you wouldn’t react?” Remus' hand went to pinch Logan’s side and Logan’s mouth tightened around itself probably in an effort to not laugh.

“You need to laugh!” Remus stated. “I command you to laugh for me!” With that being said Remus started scribbling his nails into Logan’s side and then it was all over.

“Ahhhhhahahahahahah no no no REEhehehmush nohahahahahahaht there.” Logan’s laugh was so sweet and light and Remus became addicted to it almost instantly.

“No way Jose, now I need to find all of your tickle spots, so you make things easy and just tell me where your tickle spot is or I can tickle you everywhere until I find it.” Both of Remus’s options were not what Logan was hoping for but Remus was so adorable and maybe he would go easy on him if just told him.

All taken into consideration Logan got out in between laughs “Knees” and Remus did not need to told twice.

Remus let go of Logan’s hands and turned around and sat on Logan’s thighs. Remus' hands went onto Logan's knees and gave them each a squeeze, Logan let out a squeal and his leg began thrashing around, trying to escape.

“Someone’s got very ticklish knees.” Remus smirked at Logan as he began to trace circles around them which got Logan giggling. “But I don’t think your knees are what I’m looking for.”

“Wehehehehehell whahahahat are you lohohohahahaking for?” Logan’s speech was infested with giggles and it made the ever so stoic logical side look a little sillier.

“Your Hysterical Hacker of course!” Remus exclaimed, punctuating the sentence with a squeeze of Logan’s kneecap. “If you won’t laugh on your own, then I’ll make you.”

Well if Logan wasn’t flustered before, he most certainly was now. Remus stopped tickling his knees and Logan took the chance to catch his breath because he knew that Remus wasn’t done with him yet.

Remus carefully examined Logan trying to decide on where else to try tickling him. His sides and knees were certainly good spots but not the best spot clearly. Then Remus’s eyes fell on Logan’s feet which were still dressed in shoes and socks.

In all of the time Remus had spent spying on Logan he hadn’t really seen Logan take off his shoes much. Except when just before he went to bed.

Oh Remus was good.

Wasting no time Remus moved down and sat on Logan’s legs and began to untie the laces on Logan’s shoes, it didn’t take long for Logan to catch on to Remus' devious plan.

“No, no Remus! No, not there!” Logan tried pulling his legs out from Remus but with no success due to Remus’s weight being on top of him.

“Actually Lo lo you said you’d help me find your Hysterical Hacker and if you really want to help me then you’ll sit nice and still and let me experiment.” Remus’s voice had gone uncharacteristically flat as he talked to Logan and Logan found himself with no other options than just to sit there and wait.

Once Logan’s socks were off his feet Remus started Gently running his fingers down the arch of Logan’s foot and he was not expecting the reaction that he got.

“AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA *Snort* HAHAHAHA REHEHAHAHAH *Snort*”

Remus’s finger’s stopped and he looked back at Logan, who was bright red and now had a hand covering his mouth in embarrassment.

“Jesus f*cking christ Logan, did you just snort?” Remus asked in disbelief, were his ears playing tricks on him?

Logan looked away but nodded, Remus shocked expression turned into an ear splitting grin as he squealed to Logan. “Oh my f*ck that’s so adorkable!”

“No it’s not, it's embarrassing!” Logan argued, Remus's gears were now turning. Was this why Logan never laughed? Because he was embarrassed. Well wouldn’t do at all.

Remus grabbed Logan's foot again and began tickling the skin under his toes and that got Logan screaming.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHA *Snort* NHOHOHOHOHOHO *Snort* REHEHEHEHAHAHAMUHUHS.”

“Logan, you listen to me, and listen well!” Remus ordered to the laughing side beneath him. “Your laugh is amazing and you had better start laughing more often and if you don’t then I’ll tickle you until you pass out everyday, ok?”

“YEHEHEHEHAHAHAHSHSHSH OK JUHUHUHSTSTST STSTAHAHAP!”

Remus let go of Logan’s foot and got up off of him. Remus sat and watched his Boyfriend catch his breath and once he saw Logan lay limp on his bedroom floor he spoke to him.

“Hey, you alive?”

“Well no thanks to you.” Logan grumbled back to him.

“It was for science, my laughy Logie.” Remus insisted to Logan.

“Don’t call me that.” Logan though found himself giggling at the silly pet name.

“But it suits you so well.” Remus came down to Logan and gave him a kiss on the cheek which must have changed Logan’s mind because he didn’t argue back anymore.

“Well then I need to go update notes, I love you my laughy Logie.” Remus sunk down and rose back into his room to finish up his notes.

Hysterical Hackers

Emo widow — puns

Daddy — cat videos

Romano cheese — family friendly humor

Lies and dulls — other’s pain

Logie bear — tickling his sides, knees or feet (further research might be needed for my laughy Logie)

#random #remus sanders #sander sides #logan sanders #sanders sides tickles #sanders sides #ticklish!logan #sanders side fic #intrulogical #i love them #logan x remus #my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #lee!logan

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spencerrscardigans · 13 days

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Doctors often tell patients, often chronically ill patients to stay off the social media that talks about their illnesses and to not look stuff up, and i can understand why this may be problematic but they also aren’t taking into consideration the positives and good things that can also occur from this.

POTS and other chronic illnesses are having a higher social media presence, and because of this it’s created quite a big stigma surrounding it, and people often think that these illnesses are just becoming a trend, but they don’t understand how helpful the representation is for so many people.

I do often see people in the comment section of these videos who will have one or two traits and immediately panic thinking they have these things and i can understand how that part isn’t great, but in some cases it actually is these posts online that help people get diagnoses and learn more about themselves.

I would not have been diagnosed with POTS and getting treatment if it weren’t for social media, and my doctors don’t know much about POTS so most of the tips and advice and treatment methods that i’ve found have been from social media, and i would not be where i am without it.

I struggled with dysautonomia for my entire life, and it had been established by my one doctor who actually knew about these conditions but he retired and the new doctors i was switched too don’t know much about my health conditions, so getting diagnoses and treatment has been a very slow process.

My dysautonomia is believed to have turned into POTS in early 2021 when i was 14 after i got covid, and for over a year i was struggling with debilitating symptoms and had no idea why. I was just starting high school, and i was getting sicker and sicker and it was causing quite the divide socially.

I had been diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and because of it i had already been limited in my physical activity, so i was just told that my POTS symptoms were because i was out of shape.

I tried to push myself to fix this, which only ended up making me feel worse. Sometime along the road of me trying to get more active, i got a fitbit.

I started using my watch to monitor my steps and sleep, and i noticed that my heart rate would shoot up to the 150s-170s when i was simply standing still, so i sat down, and my heart rate immediately dropped to the low 100s.

I thought that this may be a glitch with my watch, but was still concerned as i was aware that my heart rate should not get that high from just standing still, so i started googling. As a result of my search, the name Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome came up. I did some reading, and noticed that a lot of the signs were pointing to me, especially with the already established dysautonomia.

I had already dealt with a lot of doctors telling me that i was just paranoid and a hypochondriac, and i knew that watches sometimes glitched or didn’t work correctly, so i went to my pharmacy and got a pulse ox, and did the same standing test and it did the exact same thing as my watch.

I took pictures of my heart rate and started recording it on the charts that my watch had, and brought it to my next doctors appointment, explained my symptoms and then mentioned that i had heard of the condition POTS, and that it seemed pretty similar to what i was going through. My doctor had my do a short standing test in the office, and i had a 70bpm increase in my heart rate.

My doctor agreed that it definitely looked like POTS and she said that i met the criteria for a diagnosis, but she said she didn’t know very much about the condition and had only briefly heard about it, so she referred me to a cardiologist in another city as that was the closest specialist to me, but they denied the referral and said that they weren’t taking patients with POTS, and they gave her a information sheet and gave her some tests to do to rule out anything else.

The tests came back, and again it all pointed to POTS, but my doctor was scarcely familiar with the condition, and wasn’t comfortable giving me an official diagnosis, so she gave me an informal diagnosis. When it came to treatments, she also wasn’t familiar with anything besides telling me to drink more water, exercise, and increase my sodium intake, and the only medication she was familiar to treat it with was propranolol, so she prescribed that, but it unfortunately didn’t help much, so i wasn’t left with much help or advice.

The things my doctor recommended weren’t enough, and because i didn’t have an official diagnosis or really any information at all from my doctors it was hard to get accommodations with school, and i wasn’t sure what else to do, so i did what doctors recommend against and went to google and social media.

It was then where i found so many people like me who i could finally relate to, and found so much information about my condition and tips and tricks to help manage it.

Because i finally knew more about how to manage my POTS, i started trying out more things and in the last year i have learnt more than i had in years of going to doctors, and i also finally had a community where i felt less alone.

I was able to advocate for myself, and two years later, this february i finally got in to see a cardiologist and now have a proper diagnosis, and he was able to provide some more insight and treatment options for me and i’m finally starting to notice some improvement and have a hopeful plan for the future.

In cases like these, social media representation of chronic illnesses is not always bad, and can in my opinion, actually save lives. If i had not had access to these communities and help, i genuinely can say that i would not be where i am at today, and i am forever grateful for the communities that have been created.

#chronic illness #chronically ill #pots #pots syndrome #postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome #fibromyalgia #ehlers danlos syndrome #hypermobile ehlers danlos #heds #social media #representation #rant post #awareness #chronic pain

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houseofbrat · 23 days

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Terrible all around, for so many reasons. As a comms person I could do a series of Tedtalks about this.

Nevertheless I really pray for Kate’s recovery both physically and mentally.

Yes, its all very sad but could have been prevented with proper management. The Palace Comms Team needs an overhaul.

Exactly. This seems to contradict Kate’s message that she wanted to wait until they told their kids and now they say it’s because of a potential leak? Which is it then and why would they now blame a potential leak? Who does it benefit by changing the story now and why did they even bother to? It’s so bizarre.

I think it’s a bit naive to blame this on KP’s team. The team is only as good as their bosses and William is pretty inept at handling press

This to me has nothing to do with a leak and everything to do with Easter. They knew she wasn’t going to be present for Easter so they had to make an announcement and get out in front of it early.

This was my first thought as I watched Kate’s video. If not for the leak, they still would be silent.

The idea the rota is pushing is it’s all the public’s fault for wildly speculating, and it’s not sitting well with me. It was mostly jokes about Kate being at the Willy Wonka experience or that she was getting a BBL. Then they released the fake photo and AP flagged it.

The papers got pissed because there WAS a story and the Palace wasn’t feeding them, so they turned up the heat. Nobody was talking about Rose Hanbury until The Independent (I think that was the paper) ran that story “Who is Rose Hanbury?” and repeated the old rumors of the affair. And some other online news site ran a story asking what would happen if William committed a crime. And then you had Piers Morgan saying he has heard wild rumors and if even half of them were true, he was concerned.

Yes, there are nasty people out there who gossiped but the media help set this situation on fire. And KP completely bungled the PR response. But they need to spare us the “shame on you all” narrative.

Wishing Kate the best and I hope the people who accessed her medical info are held responsible.

It's the fake photo and AP killing it that set this whole thing into the stratosphere. Before that all noise was limited to a small corner of the internet. No fake photo and ninety-eight percent of mess that happened never would have happened. KP is responsible for the mess and no amount of scolding from the rota will change that.

Sometimes I wonder what their long-term plan was for this? Obviously Kate having cancer would mean she’d need more time away than what they previously let on, so if the conspiracies never took off and they weren’t under a ton of scrutiny, I wonder how/when they would have told the public about her diagnosis, if at all.

Considering how they’ve handled more minor health issues, like William having COVID, I just assume KP never wanted to be transparent in the first place and were forced. Which sucks for Kate but has bad implications for a publicly funded institution IMO.

I don’t think there was ever a longterm plan here. I think everyone was taking it one step at a time and trying to process and figure out what the next step would be.

I’m honestly surprised because I am sure Rebecca English said they didn’t have their hand forced. Plus there were two days between Wed and Friday and any leaks could have occurred then as well. I do think it was getting to the stage it was an open secret witch certain circles.

I don’t understand why this and the “were angry about speculation” stories have been leaked - if they’ve been leaked by W&K and not somebody else. Not going after the alternative theories with this comment rn.

Like, they do want this to die down, right? I’m assuming so, because Kate is sick. I’ve never really cared about her actual illness in this whole debacle, but cancer or not, in her shoes I’d want the least amount of speculation possible. And the “we’re angry about speculation post” before the reveal was not the way to do that. All that was going to do was increase the speculation because if there’s one thing the internet likes doing more than anything else, it’s doing behavior they’ve been told not to.

Now it’s been revealed that Kate has cancer and I think the whole slew of “you’re bad for speculating no matter what the speculation was, even if it wasn’t health-related” posts were bad because they encouraged talk about her even as they were saying people shouldn’t talk about her, but that wasn’t in W&K’s hands so I’m not gonna blame them for that. Either way, the gossip around her did die eventually.

But now they’re bringing it back up of their own accord, if this is them? Why? It was already said that people tried to access her info. If this inside source was BP, revealing this is just bad for the overall family image. It proves Harry was right once again. If it wasn’t, I guess I understand wanting to talk about the source, but it’s still giving attention that I don’t think would be wanted or needed right now.

This is what has fascinated me about the KP PR ever since this entire thing started. It just seems like completely weird decisions over and over and over again.

100% this is a situation of their own making. They literally exist to be seen- what did they think was going to happen if one of them just disappeared? They’re so angry at how everyone reacted but maybe they should take some time to self reflect and see how their own actions and life created this whole mess.

Because the PR/comms team is incompetent and their employers are stubborn with gigantic hubris.

The virtue signaling “everyone participating in the gossip and making jokes and sharing memes should be ashamed!” will never sit well with me. We’ve been shown time and again for decades at this point that their PR is very sloppy.

they're really trying to guilt trip the public for not knowing she had cancer after faking a photo documentation as an official government institution, aren't they?

look, if someone tried to access her.files that's criminal and should be prosecuted whatever. that's another issue.

but the BRF cannot use fear of public speculation as a tool to divert us from the fact that they faked an image and tried to pass it off as real. this is incredibly problematic on many levels. not only we cannot trust them to pass on truthful info about themselves (which, with their history of throwing women to the wolves, is icky), but as british official representatives, they should be held to all possible standards.

on a personal level, i hope she recovers, her treatment isn't too terrible as in side effects and her kids are able to grow up with her love all around.

but as someone with basic standards for media and government, and also a citizen of a democracy (in the global south, where we have been victims of rich countries' bullshit explanations), they can all fuck off with this take and blaming.

They even put out a statement around late January where they said she didn’t have cancer. They can’t be surprised that people thought something was up when they weren’t being entirely truthful.

King Charles's team announced he has cancer and just moved on, so did the public. I genuinely don't see why they couldn't have done the same for Catherine. A quick "we did surgery back in December, discovered i might have cancer, will be stepping off the public eye for a few months to seek treatment and spend time with kids" would've done it. Her team is not being asked for her to deal with her emotions in public, the public just wanted to know why she hasn't been seen from or heard from for a long time. They completely bungled this one.

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house-of-kolchek · 11 months

Note

Okay buddy. I need a snippet of Leong. Please 🤣🤣🤣

Ohhohohohohoho

Get ready friends because it’s actually not at all what you’re thinking:

—

You grimaced at the security footage, watching as a figure missing too many limbs tackled a man in a dark suit jacket. Through the grainy footage, it was still easy to spot a sharp gleam in the attackers eyes, and the splotches of red and rot that decorated its face.

“When was this?”

“Yesterday evening,” Bailey replied, her eyes still trained on the screen. “Mr. Bidel was brought into the station after a call from his wife claimed he was threatening her with a knife. Four hours later… this.”

You sighed, glancing back to the screen as the video looped again, replaying the officer’s untimely death over again. No matter how long you’d been doing this, it still sent a wave of grief and sickness through you.

“So clearly it’s some sort of virus,” you started. It was obvious in the rotted flesh, the visceral, hungry attacks, so much like every other BOW you’d encountered before. “But who’s got their hands on it this time?”

Bailey turned to the computer screen, clicking the mouse a few times and projecting varied articles and photographs up to the large display screen. Your eyes flashers over the photo of a suburban neighbourhood. A factory. The words NEW RC plastered on a large sign.

“All directions point towards an Umbrella Copycat.”

Your heart felt like it was in your throat. You hadn’t been there in the initial Raccoon City incident. The fall of the first Umbrella. But you didn’t need to - you’d heard the stories, it was the literal reason you had this job. So this couldn’t be a coincidence - finding the RC initials and the word “Umbrella” within the same sentence. But…

“How did no one see this before?” you demanded. “It’s so obvious! Like - you see those initials right?” Wasn’t it the departments entire job to watch out for this kind of thing? Prevent those horrors from ever occurring again?

“Because this is likely one of the most secluded townships in the United States. It’s literally underground. It was sheer luck that the Bidels were on vacation when this occurred, and the processing went through a “public” station record system.” She sighed between the words, reaching to massage her temples. There was a strange sort of defeat from her posture, something you hadn’t seen before. It didn’t sit right with you.

“So what’s the plan then?”

Bailey met your gaze. There was something still unsaid there, something you found yourself suddenly afraid to hear.

“Mrs. Bidel hasn’t been heard from since the incident,” she sighed. “Her husband worked at the factory, and her interview indicated that they weren’t planning on returning home. We’re incredibly low on intel, but underground sources have managed an in. You’re going undercover as the Bidel’s… successor. You’re going to gather intel so we can put a lid on this before it erupts.”

Ohhhhhh there was a lot in those few sentences. Undercover. In the suburbs. Cut off from the rest of the country, to gain information about a nameless company that turns people into zombies and makes them disappear.

Sometimes you wondered why you kept this job.

“Something on your face tells me that’s not all,” you groaned, leaning back into your chair as she fixed you with a concerning sympathetic look. She shook her head, and suddenly your heart was in your throat again.

“The neighbourhood seems to maintain a particular… niche.” She trailed off, her nose scrunching with distaste. Another picture fluttered past the screen. A collection of happy looking couples, in full PDA mode all cuddled together with big smiles.

Oh god.

“You’re going in with a partner, to play the roles and properly fit in.”

When she didn’t continue, you cleared your throat.

“Who’s the partner?”

After a moment, she let out a long breath, uttering two words that struck an intimidated sort of fear into your heart.

“Leon Kennedy.”

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil x reader #resident evil #upcoming

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abumblebeeat221b · 9 months

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this is probably a deader than dead horse, but i, personally, haven’t seen any posts addressing this, so here we go.

while working on a DW fan fic which will probably never see the light of day i was trying to come up with reasons explaining why Thirteen behaved *like that* and it occurred to me that her being distant, sugar-coating every problem with a concerning amount of optimism, not showing her true feelings and wearing a smile like a mask most of the time could be explained by the trauma she went through as Twelve.

Twelve lost Clara, then Bill and Missy after putting so much effort into those relationships and he only ended up being hurt in different ways. He didn’t trust himself not to destroy the universe if it meant to bring Clara back. He promised to protect Bill, to be there for her, and her death was one of the most traumatic ones on the show. and while locking up your best enemy in a vault might not be the best idea, it meant the Doctor and Missy got to spend a lot of time together, only, according to the Doctor, for Missy to betray him in the end.

sure, this might not reach the magnitude of the Time War, but losing his companions (yes, i count Missy as a companion) was deeply personal and the Doctor just wasn’t ready to get close to anyone again so soon after everything that went down. so, after 'The Woman Who Fell to Earth', those humans only ended up on their first extraterrestrial trip by accident and Thirteen was doing her best to protect them. she knew getting attached would just make saying good bye even more difficult so she didn’t. she played her part and became whatever her companions expected her to be while still keeping her distance. also: Ryan and Graham leaving was a win in her book because they got to walk out of the TARDIS alive.

and this is EXACTLY why i’d have loved the Master (not O) to join them, because paradoxically enough, them having an actual conversation about all the stuff which happened and learning that Missy didn’t betray the Doctor on that Mondasian ship would have done the Doctor‘s other relationships some good. it would have shown her that allowing people to get close to her didn’t automatically result in failure, and that the years the Doctor and Missy spent re-building their friendship weren’t completely wasted.

#doctor who #Thirteen #the Master #Missy #spyfall #i strongly suspect this is not why Chibnall made those creative decisions but i couldn't care less

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lilac-5ky · 1 year

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The Embodiment of a Dream, pt.2 (Takasugi x Courtesan Fem!Reader)

A/N: WELL, I said I'd finish this in February, but somehow it's April now?!?! Crazy, I know right .-. I'm so bad with deadlines, sue me or straight up murder me, I'll take either ;-; On another note, THIS AIN'T THE LAST PART OF THE FIC, there was a change in plans. The third part will be the final one, decided to break it into two pieces since I wanted the word count to stay in the 7k-8k words. Hoping this turned out good enough!

Plot: The continuation of the relationship between Takasugi and a Yoshiwara courtesan.

Warning: Similar to the first part, but this one actually includes smut.

Part 1

In the wake of Shinsuke’s injury, you found yourself running through the halls like a headless chicken, struggling your hardest to prevent an unprecedented situation from blowing up. The Shinsengumi were gone, but the hunt was far from over. If someone had seen him enter your room all bloodied up, someone who knew both his face and the name Takasugi Shinsuke put two and two together, then your heads wouldn’t be the only ones to roll. You sure didn’t hold the people of this house in high esteem, but you weren’t too keen on unnecessary bloodshed either.

Shinsuke’s coming occurred in secrecy, and a secret it shall remain until all conflict can be avoided.

Your first initiative was to weasel your way out of tonight’s workload. Fortunately, one look at your recolored kimono was enough to convince Boss to exempt you. Miscarriages were somewhat of a common trade feature, and judging by the sheer volume of red splattered across your skirt, yours must have been quite the excruciating one.

To say this was part of a bigger, elaborate plan would be a lie. But his false interpretation was most convenient when it came to limiting your quarter’s traffic and definitely earned you more time —three days off, to be precise— than any half-assed sniffling would.

He promised that a hearty dinner be delivered to your doorstep, and you graciously departed, leaving him to smoke through the contents of his hidden stash of Amanto-produced tobacco in peace.

You climbed the stairs back to your room, cradling your stomach and wincing in feigned anguish whenever one of the girls happened to pass you by. None offered help, and none dared make any inquiries. Under the guise of serving Yoshiwara’s much-treasured laws of privacy, they refused to admit their unwillingness to see past the ends of their noses. Not that you blamed them. You were all too familiar with the concept, and if it weren’t for a certain brooding patient confined within the four walls of your bedroom, then you could claim to abide by such rules yourself.

You caught Shinsuke sleeping a deep slumber, his breath quietly sizzling in his nostrils. The painkillers must have finally kicked in. Drowsiness was among the first side effects listed in the box’s endless list of instructions, though as far as you were concerned, the pills’ actual effect on him remained unknown.

What great irony, you sneered. To think that all this medicine that was once meant for you has now returned to him. Truly ironic.

Around him, torn pieces of cotton were sprinkled all over the floor like confetti; the kimono they composed no longer in existence. He wasn’t so provident as to carry extra dressings on him, and you weren’t about to go pharmacy scavenging in the middle of the night. And so, your precious customer’s precious gift ended in thin strips of amputated cranes and decomposing camellias, the first of which stared at you with an accusatory look that begged you to feel something other than the sickening delight you got from snipping them.

After successfully discarding them, you dragged your dresser upon that one stubborn bloodstain on the carpet, grimacing at every instance of shrill sound that threatened to wake him up, and once that was out of the way, you picked out a clean outfit and headed into the bathroom, finding him in the exact same spot you’d left him, with the only indication of his being alive that of his consistently sharp breathing.

There was little you could do at this point. All that was left was to participate in this dull game of wait-and-see until he could confirm his own condition himself.

But what if he didn’t wake up? What if it took him longer than three days to recover? What if he never woke up? Not after three days, not ever again?

Thoughts of equal concern festered in your mind all the while you watched after him, your fingers itching to drop the sewing kit and shake him awake. Unlike that time you’d mistook him for asleep, his current expression appeared thoroughly serene. His identically shut eyelids could very easily be home to a pair of identically green orbs, and as for his lips… his gaping lips were almost calling out to yours.

You sighed loudly and crossed the thread through another hole in his yukata. Without its owner wearing it, the fabric hung lifeless in your hands, creasing and crumpling at your needle’s disposal as you tended to each and every damaged butterfly wing. One would think these were a shogun’s or even an emperor’s garments, for such was your reverence, and yet the color of the patches regrettably turned out a shade too light.

Another sigh followed, joined by a deeper one that was certainly not yours.

“How are you feeling?”

His eye fluttered slowly enough to remind you of its singularity “Like I should be dead instead.”

“I’m glad you aren’t,” you grinned, feeling a weight dropping off your shoulders. “I’d hate to lose my favorite customer.”

“And here I thought you simply wanted to avoid getting jumped by a mob of samurai,” he said, his voice gruff from sleep. “So? Have you grown tired of playing nurse yet?”

“Not at all. If it pleases you, I can dress the part too.” You joked.

A dry chuckle scraped his throat. “Almost forgot we were in Yoshiwara.”

Securing the thread into a knot, you snapped the loose end with your teeth. The job was done, and while you wouldn’t call it as good as new, it seemed decent enough to carry him home— wherever that was.

“How about some water?” You proposed, but Shinsuke didn’t answer.

His interest was drawn past the window sill and the neon-light signs of the opposing building to the charcoal sky above. It was pitch black. No moon nor star dared peak beneath the clouds for fear of leading his pursuers back to him. All was shrouded in a veil of perfect stillness that fed into his gaze, creating a seemingly bottomless vortex at the center of his eye.

“Shinsuke…?”

As if an imaginary plug were pulled, the darkness began to dissipate, unclear whether it poured back out or further in. His shoulders rose up to his ears, although, no later than a second passed, a parched cough came to contradict his shrug.

You folded the yukata to the side and fetched him a flask of cold water. First, he groaned, and then his eye rolled in seeming disdain, but eventually his lips parted and let you tilt the sprout between, his hand forcing yours away once he’d had enough.

“You know, you try too hard to be insufferable.”

“And I’m not?” He smirked.

“Far from it,” you shook your head. “I happen to find your whims quite—”

Before you could finish your sentence, a knock against the door’s frame came to interrupt. Must be dinner, you instinctively thought and jumped up, motioning him to keep quiet, just in case.

Right outside the threshold, a tray that contained one steaming bowl of beef udon awaited, the rich aroma of its broth spiraling into your nostrils. Thick noodles, miso soup, shiitake mushrooms, freshly chopped scallions, and golden-brown sesame oil drizzled on top; the signature dish of the corner eatery. Boss didn’t kid when he dubbed this a “hearty dinner.” It almost pained you to part from it, but between the two of you, Shinsuke was the one who needed strength the most.

“Room service,” you declared, sliding through the door. “Please, quit being stubborn and have something to eat.”

He glanced your way apathetically, neither declining nor accepting your offer until a spoon was aimed at his mouth.

“That won’t be needed,” he propped himself onto his elbows.“I’d rather save myself some dignity.”

As he sat up, the sheets receded down his thighs, revealing a series of neatly wrapped dressings whose color gradiented to dark brown. Thank goodness, he must have stopped bleeding out.

You nodded in respect to his request and transferred the tray to his lap, watching each spoonful succeed over another and coughing loudly whenever your stomach dared act up. It felt so empty— your body, that was. Drool drained backward in your throat, your mouth gradually assuming the raw dryness of cotton. Was this the taste of abnegation, you mused.

Becoming aware of your indiscreet stare, he suggested that you split the noodles in half, but when he did, you found it much easier to ball your sleeve over your fist and wipe the corner of his mouth with a smile on yours, ushering him to eat more.

Soon, the bowl emptied and Shinsuke reclined back to his previous position, whilst you sat to his right like a watchful sentry. The minute his head hit the pillow, the light in his eye dimmed, suggesting his exhaustion. Again, he seemed so worn out, that your name barely echoed as a faint whisper past his sealed lips.

“Anything else you need?”

“Undress.” The clear spelling of the word left little room for interpretation. Still, your first instinct was to cower in your corner.

“Don’t get any weird ideas,” he smirked.“Even if I wanted to express my… profound gratitude, those pills you fed me would stand in the way.”

“Then—”

“I’ve already indebted myself borrowing your food and bedding. Least I can do is return one of the two,” he continued. “Take your clothes off, or keep them on, if that’s what suits you. Just come lie down beside me.”

Your eyes locked to affirm the certainty of his tone. He was dead serious about his intentions, though the prospect of sharing a bed was perhaps more tantalizing than he’d intended it to be. It gave reason for your heart to beat faster and for a certain familiar tingle to surge between your thighs, ushering you to acknowledge it— which you unwittingly did, as you shifted in your place and pressed your knees together.

Your habit of fidgeting with your clothes in stressful times resumed, except this once, your fingers were tugging at the obi to loosen it up, each layer uncoiling into a pile of huddled snakes for you to stomp on, as you rose to your feet and shed off your kimono. You had his attention. No, more than that, you had his eye entirely hooked on you, studying each curve of your body with unmistakable interest and fascination, as if it were an art piece for him to appraise. And when he looked at you like that, you realized just how much you longed to be seen.

A little smile stretched from the corners of your lips to his, as you circled around the futon and slipped beneath the covers. Even when he’d barely budged from bed, your side of the linen remained excruciatingly cold for your skin to handle. You tried shriveling in half, but in doing so you bumped your head against his arm. You spluttered an apology and turned the other way, only to conclude the position was equally discourteous.

And thus, you ended up with your arms crossed over your breasts, your conscience idly counting wooden tiles in the ceiling and praying that their numbers were great enough for you to doze off— they weren’t. They didn’t exceed the double digits, and when you finished counting each about five times, you understood that sleep was never an option. Not when you insisted on stealing furtive glances at him, one patch of skin at a time.

You didn’t have the chance to fully appreciate it earlier, but Gods, he looked even better without a darn thing on. His body was the perfect continuation of his beautiful face. Lean, but not actually scrawny. Toned, but not too brawny either. Arms that were tried in strenuous swordsmanship and delicate collarbones that framed his pecs. A thin sheen of sweat coated his abs to the point where you could see them. It made his skin subtly glisten in the dark, and it made you want to skim over him; first with your palms, and then with your lips— if he allowed.

The chilly air subdued to the kind of unsettling heat that had your breath hitching up your throat, restless exhales eventually shaping up into becoming his name.

“Why me?” At last, the question burned its fuse. “There are plenty of women in Yoshiwara— why me?”

“Because,” the sheets to your right rustled, “you were the only one not affiliated with some Bakufu dog.”

“Is that… all?”

“That’s the reason why I chose you,” he confirmed your disappointment, “but aren’t you more curious as to why I kept coming back?”

Your cheek tilted in a cushion of sudden warmth, his palm holding the weight of your gazes together. He leaned closer, so close that you could no longer see him, but feel him. The feathery touch of his purple strands over your forehead, the leftover tobacco essence in his breath, and the shared heartbeat as it pounded in your chests. He prevailed against all senses, common and uncommon, getting the better, if not the best, of you.

“Your eyes,” you heard him say, and popped them open. “A skilled courtesan knows to orchestrate the perfect lie with body, soul, and mind, and yet, your eyes refuse to coordinate. Your distaste, your distrust, and your hatred. The true colors you think the red lights hide,” the smile rang in his voice. “You really think those are hidden from me?”

The very object of his judgment must have betrayed your surprise, considering he was the one to answer his own question.

“Relax. I don’t see beyond what you choose to reveal.”

“And what do you see now?” A shaky voice asked.

“Myself.”

His next breath stole the oxygen from yours, with his lips deliberately ghosting over your jaw in a fleeting motion that escorted him back to his pillow. Was this seduction? If so, it felt an awful lot like frustration.

“This is the second time you question my skills.”

“Does it bother you?” Shinsuke asked. “In any case, what I’m questioning isn’t your skills as a courtesan, but your nature as one.”

“I wasn’t born into it,” you admitted, knitting your fingers over your stomach. “A prostitute, a terrorist, some…. ‘Bakufu dog.’ Nobody is born into nothing. We get assigned to these roles and are expected to play them up to the final round of applause. Some are just lucky enough to fit the part.”

“Turns out I was right, after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those who are interesting either have one screw too loose or have suffered a great deal.”

“And what makes you think I’ve suffered?”

You didn’t expect an answer—not truly, at least. And so, you skipped over to the next question, the one whose answer itched you the most to find. “Have you suffered a lot?”

“Kind of you to exempt me from the first category,” he jested, his light-hearted chuckle barely matching the solemn expression on his face. “Most would assume a man seeking to destroy the world is bat-shit crazy.”

“Because I’ve come to know a Shinsuke, most don’t. To tell you the truth, I…” you bit your lips into a straight line and rolled to face him. He was curious enough to return the gesture, his shoulders shifting in your direction as he balanced himself on his good side.

“I’ve seen you. Way before we were acquainted, I saw you walk those very same streets with people that accompany you no longer. You were admired, and you were praised, and you— I didn’t get the chance to see your face, back then, but I know you must’ve had at least one good reason to smile, didn’t you?

“I don’t mean to pry into your past, and I won’t ask what happened between the two versions of you. But the Shinsuke who brought a lowly courtesan medicine for her sickness; the Shinsuke who told me to live as a woman rather than a puppet; the Shinsuke who in the face of death sought my company instead of a doctor’s; the Shinsuke who gave me a reason to laugh, and sing, and a reason to get out of bed and to endure all the vileness of men, and taught me there’s kindness in the night— Those versions of you are far more precious to me than any war-general or world-class terrorist I could meet.

“And I don’t mean to repeat myself, but I’d like to ask a final time. Have you suffered on your way here? Has it been hard on you?”

A pained smile was all he could muster to reply.

You sighed for him, for the man he was and the man he’d become, and for the little girl whose face still gleamed in your memory between trawlers and rows of fishing poles in her father’s shed, free of tarnish. Someone had to mourn for those and the futures they’d lost, and seeing as he was there right now, you guessed he didn’t have anyone else to do that in his stead.

“If you keep at it, you might convince me that it’s real.” He quietly mumbled.

“Is it not?”

In no time, you’d crossed over to his side, your fingers palpitating between his neck and jawline. It was as if gravity pulled you down to him, a force of attraction so great that when your eyes settled on his lips, your tongue begged to tease them apart. And when they did part, all doubt and uncertainty were negated, for this was no matter of sentiment or intentions, but of bodies coming together.

His hands spanned from your shoulders to your waist and to your thighs below, the softness of your moan meeting with the hoarseness of his groan as wetness met with firmness. He was dragging you closer by any means possible, hips joining and then thrusting in futility of his clothed cock. You opened up for him, your knee coiling around his torso as your fingers slid across his stomach, reveling in how his muscles tightened and tensed up until they gave way to a violent jolt.

“Sh-Shinsuke-san!” You immediately unraveled, your eyes searching for signs of pain in his stiffened expression. “Are you okay?”

“I thought we moved past this.” His lips curled into a grimace as he followed your stare to his bandages. They were still intact, albeit slightly wrinkled. You lowered a hand over his wound and he gulped down hard, his shaky breath contradicting the “I’m fine” he was about to utter.

But when you pulled your fingers off and attempted to return to your pillow, he refused to separate from your waist and held you even tighter, pairing your chin with his shoulder and the small of your back with both his arms. You couldn’t object, or rather, you didn’t want to object. In his embrace, you felt so small that no reason seemed big enough to leave it.

“I couldn’t care less if it isn’t,” Shinsuke whispered, circling back to his previous question. “I don’t care if you are a Yoshiwara woman, and I don’t care how many men you’ve slept with or deceived either. From this moment onward, you can lie all you want. Lie and I’ll believe, because… you are mine.”

Before you knew it, tears began welling in your eyes for a reason you could hardly define. A woman who’d spend her entire life in possession of another, a woman whose body was hardly hers, to begin with, a woman that had nothing to her name— What could such a woman aspire to give? If all parts of you were bought out, what could he possibly hope to own?

However, his words had already seeped under your skin, traversing from one ear to the other, down your spine, and up your head again, as you hesitantly came to confirm his notion with the meekest of nods.

The last thing you made of that night was the shape of his lips against your skin, along with the oath that accompanied them: Even if no part of me belongs to me, whatever fragment of my heart remains is yours to keep. Because… I am yours.

He was gone the morning after.

And the morning after that.

And the morning after the morning after that.

You counted a total of 36 mornings where he didn’t give a single sign of life. Mornings that were succeeded by insufferable noons full of idle girl talk in the balcony, and evenings where the alcohol was nearly not enough to blur out the faces of those around you. But far more intolerable than hearing the same story about some silver-haired scoundrel trying to trade pachinko balls for cash, and pretending to find joy in the way some sleazy merchant plowed you on all four, was not knowing whether Shinsuke was alive or dead.

As much as you’d like to personally dig into it, snooping around when Shinsengumi’s investigation had just been put on hold was bound to turn all eyes on your back, and if he was to ever return, you didn’t want your lack of discretion to stand in the way. Yoshiwara was treacherous enough as it was. Besides, rumor had it that the cops’ failure in capturing a mere “phantom terrorist” forced the Commissioner to cut down on police funds, along with a few heads of his incompetent men. The latter part sounded mostly fictitious, though part of you did hope that the ill-mannered cop from the other day was among those headless corpses.

In any case, it was safe to assume neither Shinsuke nor his body had been found. Whether he’d made it back to his comrades in one piece or bled out in some dark alleyway, knowing he’d escaped their clutches gave you hope. And perhaps, it was hope that brought you to the aforementioned congregations, whose main gossip topic was your house’s love affairs.

It turned out that more than half of those money-depended relationships you previously mocked were built on a much deeper basis than one would imagine. Each girl had this one patron whose talk alone made their eyes shimmer. Some carried a strand of their hair around their pinky— a promise. Others scarcely held onto their correspondence beneath their undergarments until the paper thinned. One kept an entire box devoted to memorabilia of their beloved: a handkerchief they left behind, a jade ring that was their first gift, and pictures. Far too many pictures of them.

A few months back you would have sneered at their faces, but the longer you spent in their company, the more you began feeling some sort of kinship blossom between you. To have a preference escalate to something more, was a feeling you knew all too well.

It was inevitable that by the fifth time you attended their meetings, you’d be asked about your own affairs, and when that moment came, you chuckled politely and switched the topic back to the previous speaker’s flame. So far this tactic had worked 31 out of 31 times, and while neither side shared the information the other longed to hear —in your case, news about the one that got away,— listening to them read their letters out loud had given birth to a new idea.

Now, you weren’t proficient in literature by no means, and the only letters you’d ever exchanged were based on false attraction. But if you could somehow manage to get a letter delivered and answered, your mind would be put to rest.

Your first efforts were defined by a series of smudged-up writings of his name. “Shinsuke” felt too plain a salutation and “Shinsuke-san” was sure to earn you an earful. “Takasugi,” or “Takasugi-san” came off too formal, while “My beloved” was still a matter of contemplation. Eventually, you decided that “Dear Shinsuke” which your latest attempts featured, was the right amount of personal without sounding too pretentious or unnatural.

Once you’d gotten that down, your primary concern became the letter’s main body. What on earth would you write him? The letters of those girls were heavily dosed with words of eloquent sensibility that a mere “I miss you—I’m worried about you—Please come back” could never hope to compete with. Urgency aside, you didn’t want to come off as an illiterate idiot.

You tried your hardest, crumpling one ball of paper after the other and then cringing equally as hard at what came to be the final product among an abundance of discarded drafts that littered the floor.

Dear Shinsuke,

How strange it is to have written numerous letters for my pen to only tremble now. Ink does sentiment little justice, and yet my entire heart’s contents are summed in that first salutation. Dear’s what I’ve come to call you, for dear’s what you are to me.

And so I call you dear again, twice and then thrice, while watching the sunrise. I used to hate all dawns that led to our nights’ demise, but now each dawn brings me new hope. Hope that you’re safe and in good health, for I dare not imagine you unwell. They say patience is a virtue, but how many more suns need to rise before I become virtuous? How many hollow moons until my longing settles?

The ways to express my desire are as plentiful as the stars written in the skies, and I fear, that for as long as you evade my arms’ embrace they’ll insist to multiply.

Nevertheless, I must draw the line here and convey one final thought. I’ve been pondering on words you’ve said, and have concluded that a dream’s end lies between its fulfillment and the waking of its host. Because a dream completed is no different than a goal achieved, and a dreamer’s awakening shutters all that could have been.

Am I dreaming, my dear Shinsuke? Or will my dream begin when we’re no longer apart? If I’m asleep, don’t wake me up, but if I’m awake, please hurry back.

Faithfully yours,

Your improper courtesan.

You must have folded and unfolded that last piece of paper at least a dozen times, sighing at each interval in between. This is so embarrassing, you ruminated, forehead against the table, and hands thrown over the edge in indication of surrender. An entire day went by and this was the best you could come up with. How very embarrassing; words you must have said out loud for you got an actual response.

“Didn’t know Yoshiwara women were capable of embarrassment.” The voice of a man cooed in your ear, its tone so gentle that if you hadn’t been scared out of your wits, you would have leaned back to relish it.

However, the only thing you managed was to flinch in such rapidness that caused the ink bottle to fly straight into his palm. Wide-eyed, you traced the fingers back to their owner, well aware of whom they belonged to. He looked good. He always did, but what set him apart from the last time you saw him was the significant lack of bandages. Even his damaged eye was left bare on a rare occurrence.

“You’re back!” You gasped.

“I am,” Shinsuke nodded. “Although, I can’t say I remember this place looking like a pigsty.”

You glanced around in horror at what the place you used to call your “room” had become. There were more pages on the floor than there would’ve been if you’d shredded an entire collection of encyclopedias.

“How long have you been standing there?” You asked as you attempted to sweep the papers into one big pile away from his legs.

“Long enough to realize the cause of your embarrassment.” His eye wandered toward your makeshift desk and settled on the letter upon it.

Your arms urged to cover the words from his sight, but unfortunately, he was too fast for your own good.

“This isn’t-”

“A love letter?” He smirked, waving it in the air to unfold it.

“Meant for you!” You protested.

“It has my name on.” His forefinger pointed where the title should be.

“It’s nothing important-”

“If it wasn’t, then why waste all this paper?”

“Please,” you tugged at his yukata. “don’t.”

He lowered the letter for your eyes to meet— his narrowed green orb rotating a full circle. Perhaps it was your pleading tone, or maybe the pup-like stare you were giving him. No matter the cause, he was merciful enough to fold the letter inside his yukata and take a seat beside you, his interest soon drawn by the empty bottle of sake on the table’s corner.

Normally, a girl would’ve brought a refill before a guest arrived, but as fast as you were concerned your night wasn’t booked in advance.

“Should I bring you something to drink?” You tried to change the subject.

“No need,” he shrugged, shifting the bottle between his fingers.

“Have you eaten…?”

“I have.”

Was this his way of keeping a grudge, you wondered, spotting the creased paper corner that peaked from his chest.

“Aren’t you going to read that?”

He let go of the bottle at once, head tilting in your direction. “I don’t see why I should when you don’t want me to.”

“Then why are you keeping it?”

Your question brought forth a smile to his features— one that could be considered equal parts smug as it was coy.

“To commemorate the first love letter I receive,” Shinsuke answered.

“I find it hard to believe no one’s ever written you one before,” you said, adding a second part to your sentence in case he found the first too insolent. “You seem the kind of man who receives lots of letters, is all.”

“None I wasn’t allowed to read,” he retorted. “For that, I consider yours the first.”

Allow is a heavy word, you wished to object, though he wasn’t quite wrong either.

“How are you?” You asked in a cowardly voice and then repeated again.“That’s what the letter says. ‘How are you? I’m fine.’”

“Is that all?” he chuckled. “You wrote me a letter to ask how I’m doing?”

“…And I miss you,” you sighed. “‘I miss you, I’m worried about you, please come back alive.’”

The tone of your complexion was reflected on his cheeks, as an inconspicuous red hue spread upon them. You bet he didn’t blush too often, or else he’d know to hide it. Even his smile seemed mellower than before, lacking the usual cunning sharpness.

“You talk more like a courtesan now.”

“Isn’t it time I acted like one, too?” Your hand moved on top of his own and brought it to your lips, unlocking each of his fingers with a kiss. “I want you.”

He cupped your face in his palm and dragged his thumb over your bottom lip, eyes glinting at what was about to come. “Was this also in the letter?”

“No,” you smiled. “I wanted to say this in person. I want you-”

And suddenly, you understood what being his entailed, for your lips belonged to him, along with your tongue, your breath, and all you had to give. It was all his. The neck his eager palm steadied, the silky hair his fingers carefully untangled, the soft thighs straddling him, and the visceral sounds your mouths exchanged. It was all his to take. Every part of you that once was, no longer were. Only a fervent urge left burning in its place, augmented with every little jab across your velvet skin.

His lips withdrew to your neck, arms tightening around your waist for your chest to rise up against him. You tried to untie your obi, but Shinsuke acted first, sliding your kimono well past your cleavage and attaching himself to your breasts— one at a time. His wet tongue rolled around your nipples, sucking them into hardness, while his eye focused solely on your expressions.

You bit your agape mouth shut, gulping the heaviest of breathings down as his hand crossed between your legs to find the spot that begged for him the most. He circled his thumb over your clit in a way that was awfully similar to how he’d held your lips. He moved it languidly and continuously, again and then all over again until a needy moan was coaxed. And when that happened, he kept on going, ignoring the strain in his fundoshi, and persisting until his face was squeezed between your heaving breasts. He remained kissing them and kissing you down from your high, the final of his tender kisses landing upon your fiery cheeks.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

For a minute, you failed to register what he meant, though when you did, neither had the chance at a chuckle as you fell back onto each other. Insatiable fingers freed him from his obi, exposing his body to your touch. He laid back against his elbows, a hint of surprise widening his eye as you planted your lips on his chest and licked your way around his nipples. You sucked one of them in, gently pinching the other with your thumb and forefinger. Does it feel good, you meant to ask, but seeing as his head arched backward, it was safe to assume he savored this no less than you did.

Your mouth drifted to his stomach, hands pushing the fabric aside only to stop at the first of a series of mismatched patches. He could’ve gotten himself a new yukata, and yet he wore the one you’d fixed him with equal pride.

Fawning over the notion, you didn’t notice him turn the tables on you, just like he didn’t notice his knee nudging the table down, the ink bottle he’d tried so hard to salvage cracking into a pool of ebony black across the tatami your head laid upon. He brushed all hair off your face and stared at you for a good while, his gaze almost pious. You wondered what he thought of— if he thought about anything at all, and what he saw— if he saw anything worth seeing in that impressionable face of yours, though soon, you grew too preoccupied with his actions to care about his thoughts.

He claimed your hand and pushed it above your head, locking his fingers together with yours. His arm felt heavy; not as heavy as his hips and certainly not as heavy as the bundle of nerves in the pit of your stomach, but still, heavy enough to restrain you. It was time. Your knees bent back to your stomach, allowing him to align with your entrance. And when he pushed himself in, gods, he was still looking deep within your eyes, at the soul, you doubted existed. He watched it darken and twist in pleasure that you shared, and if someone asked what he did so differently from all others, you wouldn’t dare to voice that four-letter word at loud.

The difference was never in his thrusts or the way he kissed, so full of ecstasy and life. The difference lay in how he made everything burn brighter and blur murkier at the same time, in how he was capable of anchoring you, as he was in making you soar. Because the answer and the question were both him and if that imaginary, indiscreet stranger pried for more, you’d decided to name this your first time, too.

“If someone walked in right now, they wouldn’t be able to tell the courtesan and the guest apart.”

“If someone walked in right now, they’d be lucky if a courtesan and a guest were all they saw.”

One’s words accompanied a dull trail of smoke and the other’s a vibrant melody, with the first pouring out your lips and the second from his fingers. One sat with their knees apart, and the other lay on their back. One was naked from the waist up, and the other completely bare. One focused on the other, and the other focused on their song, both sharing the same complacent smile on their lips.

“You seem awfully fond of my pipe,” said Shinsuke, strumming one string after the other, while you drew short and frequent puffs.

“My father had a kiseru just like this one,” you exhaled, shifting the pipe between your knuckles. “He loved himself a good smoke after dinner. Called it ‘the last instance of affordable freedom in this shit world.’ Ma’ had different ideas. To put it short, she hated it. Opened all windows and fanned the smoke out as if the house was on fire.

“I remember how, once, sis stole the kiseru from his jacket and we took a puff each, not fully grasping what it was. It was horrible, that’s what it was,” a chuckle broke through your words. “But not as horrible as Mother’s shrieks when she found us puking our guts out on the kitchen floor. She’d made us swear we’d never touch tobacco again, and we took the oath without second-guessing.”

“And here you are breaking it,” he sneered.

“Madam’s the same way,” you went past his interruption. “She hates it when Boss smokes and nags him every chance she gets, even though she was the one who taught us how to handle it, should a guest ask us to indulge. One of the many must-knows of the job,” you explained, closing your fingers over the pipe’s neck. “You’re right. I really am fond of this. Maybe because it’s yours. Maybe because it tastes like you.”

His lips curved into a slight smile, his eye never stirring away from the instrument on his lap. “Keep it. I have no grand memories to back my habit up.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Take it,” he insisted. “See it as an addition to your stories, or just something to remember me by.”

“You talk as if you won’t be coming back…”

“‘Increased chances of sudden death’ and ‘low life expectancy’ are both in the job description,” he shrugged. “Who knows when my time to kick the bucket will come? We might not get a chance at goodbye then”

“That’s not fair,” you said in a quiet voice full of complaint, gaze lowering along with the music’s tempo. “Haven’t enough died already?” Haven’t I lost enough already? “Why should you die too?” Why should I lose you too?

“You aren’t wrong. Certainly, more than enough have died to incriminate the Bakufu, but not quite as many shoguns have perished to atone for that sin. I intend to force a draw on the scale. Ten shoguns for each of my fallen soldiers, until no man’s left to step in the ringleader’s shoes. That should be enough to justify their sacrifice, don’t you think? As for me,” his smile turned into a sinister grin while saying those words. “I don’t wish to die in a world where the last instance of affordable freedom is tobacco.”

The lump in your throat began to dissipate with your settling back against the pillow. You knew better than to trust a single word that came out of your guests’ mouths, but his determination convinced you to accept the pipe with a clear conscience.

The music resumed —not that it’d ever stopped—, a tune sweeter than those you were used to. With your chin balanced on your elbow, you found yourself humming in accordance with the notes, nodding along to the mellifluous rhythm he composed.

“This sounds nice,” you smiled once you had his attention. “What is it?”

“Who knows?” He humored you, knowingly triggering your favorite pastime of lyrical guesswork.

“Hmm, it’s soft— like affection, but,” you leaned closer “the way each chord lingers well before giving way to another, is almost like seduction.”

“Are you, now?” He rasped, fingers hesitating to pick the next harmony. “Seduced?”

You stole a playful peck from his lips as an answer, his eye barely given enough time to close.

“Who knows?” you mumbled, his mouth quick to welcome yours with ease. How many kisses had you shared to reach this point of familiarity; a fleeting thought crossed your mind. How many kisses did it take for this to feel like the most natural and right thing in the world?

Even as you straddled his lap, Shinsuke still held onto the shamisen, its tuning pegs sharply digging into your flesh. If this turned anything like the previous night —or the one before— did, he’d soon shove it in the corner and pick you up instead. He’d trail the entirety of your skin, from your neck down to your thighs, peppering little purple love bites wherever he saw fit. He’d throw your knees over his shoulders and he’d drink you up, his tongue prying where his eye couldn’t, and once he was sated, he’d lace your bodies together and pace slowly— slowly enough for your hips to melt together while he’d again be kissing your lips.

You knew exactly how it’d go, for you’d learned his preferences by heart, and yet your excitement refused to fizzle out. You shoved the instrument away from his reach, implementing an abrupt and rather rude ending to his concert. His hands slithered behind your back and firmly hugged your bum. It hadn’t been too long since he had his release, though you could very well feel the extent of his impatience.

“I can’t get enough of you,” one of you said, their voice obscured by the not-so-distant knocking on the door.

Cursing under your breath about how one of these days you’d have to rip it into paper shreds, you stumbled outside, your head peaking first over your naked body, in case you had company. All seemed clear, except for the unannounced visitor that awaited at your feet; a large rectangular wooden box.

“I see it finally arrived,” Shinsuke observed once you brought it to his sight. “About time.”

“Is it an explosive device of some sort?” you joked, lightly shaking the box.

“No,” he smirked. “Only a token of my gratitude. Go on, open it.”

A thin layer of wrapping paper covered what was a dark purple fabric. Silk, you realized as you ran your fingers across its length. A kimono, judging by the lighter-colored cuffs. An exquisite kimono, you added, its elegant pattern of pine, bamboo, and plum trees in gold taking you by surprise. An exquisite kimono in his colors, you concluded, comparing it to the yukata he donned.

“This…” you began, though your stupefied expression seemed to have spoken on its own.

“Save it,” he shook his head. “This is just compensation for your ruined dress and your hospitality. Was supposed to arrive weeks ago, but now that it’s here… turn around.”

He pulled the kimono out of the paper and you did as told, setting the box aside. You felt him get closer, his hot breath tingling your nape as the cold sensation of silk spread over your shoulders. His hands flattened it over your curves, sliding down your waist and hips, and then reaching to your front to fix the hem in place. You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose, but when his knuckles ghosted over your nipples, you knew his objective involved more than dressing you up.

“Out of all the men to have stepped in here,” you said as he fished out a yellow obi from the box’s depths “you are the first to dress me rather than undress me.”

At first, he didn’t respond. He proceeded to wrap the obi around you, and once it was securely tied, his voice cooed in your ear “Since when were the two mutually exclusive?”

Your gaze met his briefly, as his lips fell on your own and his hands hiked up your dress. Two fingers slipped within your walls, massaging your insides gently while you brought each other to your knees, his palm carefully sinking your head onto the floor. Your heart beat louder than his voice telling you how well it suited you, though you didn’t need to hear it. His touch said all you need to know, sturdy hips lazily bucking against your own.

“Sh-Shinsuke?” you managed, removing his hand from your body. A darkened green orb peered at you curiously, lust not quite shaken from his stare.

“Have you ever been in love?” you regretted asking as soon as you did.

His curiosity turned into something else, something he can’t explain, just like he can’t give an answer to your question. He almost looked offended and you almost apologized, but then he hushed you with a heady kiss that had your head spinning.

“How does this feel?” he asked, well aware of the effect he had on you.

“G—good,” you panted.

He nodded, carefully dragging his open mouth along your jawline and neck where a second, far more fleeting kiss landed exactly where your breasts began.

“How does this feel?” he asked again.

“Good,” you answered, again with the same elementary term you used before.

His winsome smile hid underneath purple layers of hair, as he lowered his head down between your legs and spread them apart. He trailed a path from one thigh to the other, his lips not once closing to cover his warm breath. His fingers dug at your skin while he pulled you closer, the tip of his nose rubbing against your swollen clit that ached for him to touch it. But before he had the chance to either make contact or ask the final of his questions, you moaned the same word you did before.

It feels good. So, so, so damn good.

“Then,” Shinsuke climbed back up, “let’s call this love.”

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