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marshmallowsqoosh · 1 year

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[Sleep Token (Band) | Gratitude]

Fandom: Sleep Token Title: Gratitude Rating: Mature CW: Non-Explicit Sex, Tentacles, Dubious Consent -> Explicit Consent, Hand Jobs, References to Mental Health Issues, Lesser Warnings: Altered Physical State (Sleep gives His vessels gifts that cause mutations; III has tentacles), Self-Conscious!Vessel/Depressed!Vessel, Sleep is chill/supportive, Sleep is an eldritch horror that exists in an alternate plane of existence and manifests as tentacles to His vessels, Vessel is Sleep’s host so... assisted masturbation???

Summary: Sleep doesn't understand much about humans, but knows many of them appreciate physical intimacy. He enjoys paying His vessels-especially His host-gratitude and praise.

Vessel is grateful... but not entirely positive he's earned it. III is very positive he's earned it. ♥ aka Sleep likes to praise His vessels by making them feel good and III gets to help.

extras. Status (& AO3 Link): complete! word count. ~3815

I am not responsible for what I do when I’m tired and haven’t slept in like four days.

♥

Vessel wakes up to the sensation of awareness in his core… and, perhaps, in part because he feels… familiarity and waking nerves spreading through his body. Nerves that aren't his.

In the same moment he manages to push up on his left arm—body and limbs already beginning to feel nonexistent in anticipation—he feels III shift beneath his right arm and quickly shushes him.

"Mmm… Vessel—?"

"It's nothing." A chaste kiss across the other's forehead, a gentle trail of fingers down the side of III's face, cupping his cheek for the briefest moment to lull him back down to the pillows. "I'll only be a few moments. Go back to sleep."

The words always leave such an odd taste in his mouth—one he isn't certain is his own awareness or their Old God being pleased. But, after a moment of struggling to wake up more, III finally relaxes back into the bed, rolling onto Vessel's pillow, in the process, and clearly doing his best to smother himself in the familiarity and scent as Vessel gingerly wills himself out of bed. He only watches III for a moment longer—just long enough to check he's indeed still and fast asleep again—before he turns his full attention to getting even a little bit further away. Somewhere he won't risk waking the bassist or either of the other vessels or any acolytes.

His walk is unsteady as the awareness spreads and becomes heavier. It doesn't take long until he's shaking with the sheer effort to stay standing, one hand braced on the wall as he edges down the hallway. He perhaps wanted to get to the library, maybe even the oratory. Somewhere… quiet and away from people. As it is, he's lucky he manages not to collapse on the bathroom floor after fumbling with the door handle. He barely manages to catch himself on the sink counter, at least a little aware that he knocks over the little cup holding various personal items—toothbrushes; a pen for some reason; IV's toothpaste, that he kept telling people not to use—and simply grips the counter as tight as possible.

He can feel the small rift forming in the center of his back—knows it isn't really attached to him and still wondering if he could perceive it; he knows the others can't, not even II, with his gift of infinite and expanding knowledge from Sleep.

II… knows and understands in a way the others—even Vessel—don't and can't and simply tells all of them to accept that Sleep's rift is a courtesy to reduce the strain of Vessel hosting Him. II, in particular, was fond of the few times he was awake at the same time as Sleep, eagerly—as eagerly as he could in his rather perpetually fatigued state—seeking out the affirmations from their god and accepting the gentle tap of a tentacle on his head, likening it to a kiss on the forehead.

III never seemed bothered by the explanation and had simply allowed the curious tentacle-like appendage to coil around his arm, the first time he saw it. He never went out of his way to approach Sleep, instead only taking any attention from the manifestations when they happened to occur near him and never anything more. Always mindful that his hands never got too close to where the rift supposedly formed.

IV had been a bit more forward, his first time; holding his hand out to let it come to him before he pet down the length, either unaware or unconcerned that it sent a shiver up Vessel's spine as Sleep responded in delight to the extra attention. Even so and despite his usual cravings for affirmation and acknowledgement from literally any of the other vessels, IV seeks Sleep out even less than III does. He waits to be invited closer, even when he's aware Sleep is awake and manifested, he waits until Vessel invites him closer—sometimes II will, if Vessel hasn't noticed him—and will wait further, hand outstretched, until Sleep acknowledges him and beckons him closer.

When he finally manages to raise his head enough to look up at his reflection, Vessel finds his skin already flushing an enticing shade of pink and red that slowly spreads over him and a thin layer of sweat starting to form. He feels and sees his tank top move—the shoulder strip first, before the hem gets pushed up. Nothing in the mirror, it simply looks like his shirt moving on its own; but, he can see the dark appendages in his peripherals, coiling from his back as they move over his shoulder. Around his waist.

I did not mean to wake you, Vessel.

Sleep's voice is as intoxicating as ever and Vessel takes a series of slow, deep breaths to try keeping even a sliver of his focus. It always… takes a few minutes, when he first wakes up, to brace himself for the inevitability. He may not have been ready today… but, maybe he didn't want to be, either.

One of the appendages—a black void, little more than an illusion of shadow but definitely with form—slithers over his shoulder and coils around his neck, just tight enough he has to tilt his head back to follow the pull. The two around his waist are resting just above the band of his pants, waiting for Vessel to be able to think clearly, to consent to the continued gesture of praise or to… decline? He's never positive what Sleep is waiting for. Confirmation he was awake? A sign of weakness? He knows the Old One is waiting for verbal consent; but, it always feels like He's waiting for something else, too.

"Humans are sensitive to touch, Sleep, and I am always aware, so that I may serve you in a most timely manner. I would have reacted sooner or later and—" His breath hitches, his knees nearly buckling; the words apparently constitute enough consent that Sleep's prior touches resume. The tentacle around Vessel's neck tightens and coils more and he feels the slick membrane leaving residue behind in the process as the tip trails up to his mouth, tapping the corner lightly in mockery of a kiss. One of the two at his waist manages to push both the waistband of his pants and underwear out of the way, just enough that the other can slither down further, coaxing him further to arousal.

It's all he can do, desperately trying to grip the counter tighter, even when he can't find purchase to do so. "—a-and… we would have woken III. He needs rest."

Do you not?

It's getting harder to think straight. It's only sheer will keeping him from trying to shift his weight just enough he might get a little bit more friction than the languid stroking at Sleep's pace. Only sheer will keeping him from pulling the tentacle near his mouth into his mouth. He needs to stay focused.

"I am your vessel. I—my voice, my body, my everything—is yours to do with as you please, regardless of place and time."

He gave up his boundaries years ago, if he ever had them. At least with Sleep—as His vessel—he has a purpose.

You are so much more than my vessel. If this routine is becoming inconvenient, you need only say so. I prefer my vessels in good health, especially so my most devoted. This is meant to be a reward, Vessel… not a punishment.

"I understand."

He doesn't—well. He does. He doesn't agree, necessarily, but he does understand that the moments Sleep chooses to be more familiar and intimate with any of them—mostly Vessel, although he's extended his praises and offers to the others; Vessel isn't sure any of them, except perhaps II, understand. But when Sleep chose to indulge in this sort of praise… Vessel knows he should consider himself fortunate for such an attentive god.

The words, thankfully, seem to sate Sleep's desire to try affirming anything further. Vessel stays standing by sheer will—the desire not to appear as weak as he knows he is. He lets himself lean forward, trusting the little remaining strength in his arms and the fact Sleep has a hold around him to keep him mostly upright. The appendage around his neck loosens and slides away to turn its attentions elsewhere—moving down Vessel's back and trying to wriggle its way into his pants, as well. Without it holding his head back, Vessel lets his head loll forward, not remotely interested in trying to hold it up. No different than bowing his head during worship and letting him keep his attention fixed firmly on the sink and the way his hair curtains around him, to keep from watching the way Sleep strokes him. Different from a human touch. More like a mouth, in feel a texture, but still not quite the same. Still more than enough to feel something that resembles a positive emotion, even as some part of him continues to insist he hasn't earned this praise.

As though proving he hasn't earned this, Sleep suddenly stops and it's only the pride of his devotion that silences the protest lodged in his throat. This is at Sleep's discretion. If He decides Vessel no longer deserves recognition and reward, that is His decision and is not for Vessel to protest—

Ah, most wonderful, I feared you would not hear me. Please, assist me.

Hear Him? He has to be talking to Vessel, but… that hardly makes any sense—

Before Vessel can form enough coherency to ask for clarification—even as the need to do so leaves a horrible and appropriate taste of failure in his mouth; even as he remains painfully aroused and desperately wanting more than what's given—a new touch nearly does pull the startled scream from him. At the very least, it does elicit a sharp gasp and his attention snapping back to the present in clearer focus. But, he freezes from turning, his attention focused on the mirror and finding III's reflection smiling at him, hand resting gently on Vessel's waist, cushioned between two of Sleep's tentacles.

With the acknowledgement, III finally presses to up to Vessel's back with a soft, airy sigh. He can't see the rift that Sleep manifests from; but, he knows it's there and can see the tentacles and is oh so mindful that he's not flush against Vessel's back, but still close enough the tentacles are gently squished between them and cause all of them to give a delighted wriggle that nearly makes Vessel's knees buckle as Sleep returns His attention to the languid stroking and caressing of His vessel's body.

It's only in that moment that Vessel even realises III's left arm is around his chest, tight enough to hold him up, even as the nails of his right hand dig into Vessel's skin as a slow, shaky breath escapes and Vessel realises that III is receiving the same careful, rewarding attention.

Which… does make sense; Sleep was never shy about extending His praises to the other vessels; they simply never took Him up on the advances. Usually. Even when Vessel tries to encourage them to—reminding them they have earned the praise—they declined and Sleep let it rest for the time. III finally accepting… makes sense and Vessel's grateful because he deserves the reward, but—

"When did you—?"

"You told me to go back to Sleep, remember?" III laughs at his own cheeky answer. Even so, he's clearly distracted as his body rocks in gentle motions to meet the way Sleep touches him and, in turn, ends up grinding against Vessel and pulling a quietly pleased moan from both of them. When he pushes against Vessel's back, this time, still mindful not to trap Sleep too thoroughly between them, he's pushing Vessel down to a more curled over position, almost flat to the counter, with III curled over him, still holding him up but utilising as much of the counter as he can for assistance.

Using the extra support to bring his right hand up, gently brushing Vessel's hair away from his neck. For a moment his fingers simply trace the wetness left behind from when Sleep had pulled his head back; a curious touch, like he's testing the thickness… and perhaps safety for himself, seeing as his next move is to bite, gently, at the back of Vessel's shoulder and then the junction of his neck, moving the bites up oh so slowly until he can nip at the shell of Vessel's ear, just to watch him shudder and struggle to breathe and stay perfectly still. He goes back to Vessel's shoulder, just to kiss the bite mark and follow the prior trail of bites with his tongue flat to Vessel's flesh; instead of another nip, he blows gently as the trail left by his tongue and Vessel finally bites out a short, remarkably pitiful expletive, his chest and entire torso heaving with the heavy breaths, hands curling into tight fists.

He just needs to stay still, it's all a test of devotion and will—

III's breath is warm against his neck, against the trail left by his tongue, "Sleep asked me to help. He said you're being stubborn."

Vessel's breath hitches; but, he doesn't get a chance to protest. A moan escapes, instead, as III bites at his neck again, a little bit harder, and his right hand moves across Vessel's throat, fingers curling gently, the exact same way Vessel does to him on stage.

"You always do so much for us, Vessel… for Sleep. For me. This is not a test and you will not be punished for enjoying yourself. Let me do something for you, even just this once."

Vessel wants to argue.

It's always a test—everything in life is a test—but more than that III always does more than enough. But the protests die on his lips, lost in another moan as III rolls his hips. Sleep has a tentacle stroking him, too, and the motion pushes Vessel further into the counter, pushes his own erection against the counter in the same moment Sleep coils tighter around him.

"May I?" III is quiet. Vessel almost doesn't hear him and the question sounds ridiculous. He already agreed to help Sleep, why is he asking—? "Vessel… I need to hear you say you want me here. That you want both of us here. I need to know you want this and you aren't just catering to me or Sleep. Tell me the truth."

It's only then Vessel realises everything else has stopped. Even as III stays as close as he can, both arms around Vessel like he's afraid to let go, he isn't grinding against Vessel anymore. Sleep isn't moving and most of His appendages aren't even touching Vessel anymore, clearly waiting on an answer, as well. But he isn't supposed to want—

Even as he tells himself as much, as he tells himself it's better this way as III starts to loosen his grip and back away… even then, he can't stop himself from grabbing III's wrist, from keeping him from leaving. The words lodge in his throat, desperate to be said, even as he tries to tell himself to let go—

You are allowed to want, Vessel. He sits up a little straighter and that finally makes him release III when he hears a quiet whine of discomfort from the other vessel. I have told you, many times since you came into our folds. You are far too cruel to yourself—moreso than I could ever dream to be or you to imagine me to be. Even in my infinite existence and my desire to mute your demons, you create more and more every day. You needn't fear allowing yourself a singular pleasure when offered. I believe you will find it most beneficial.

He doesn't trust himself to turn around; but, he can still see III in the mirror, looking more and more concerned in place of confusion. Uncertain he's allowed to offer comfort with how… heavy the atmosphere still feels. He wonders if III feels it, too.

"Stay…" Concern dissipates almost immediately and he looks… hopeful. Hesitant, but hopeful. Afraid of rejection. Afraid he's misunderstood. … He hates the word he needs to say. Want is such… an unsettling and terrifying word. "Please, stay."

III is still cautious, slowly edging up to his back once more. Sleep retracts some of His tentacles back through the rift, until there's only the one around Vessel's torso, one winding down his leg, and two reaching back for III. A moment later he feels the warmth and weight of III pressing up to his back again, just close enough that Sleep wiggles a little bit to show He still can, even as III wraps his arms around Vessel again.

"... I know it's hard for you to say. I get that." He presses his forehead against one of Vessel's shoulders, breathing slow and deep, like he's trying to will himself not to get his hopes up. "May Sleep continue?"

"... Yes." This is easier to answer and he's grateful for the direction and understanding. An airy moan escapes his throat as Sleep's attention turns to his earlier actions; the tentacle around his torso slips back into his pants to resume the gentle strokes, while the one down his leg comes back up and slips down the back of his pants, prodding at and teasing his hole, gently.

"May… I stay?"

"Please."

Immediately, III's attention is back on his neck and shoulder, biting down as his arms curl tighter for the briefest moment. Only a moment before his right hand is helping Sleep, fingers a much more solid grip as he strokes Vessel back to full arousal and his left hand moves up, closing over Vessel's throat. Not tight enough he can't breathe, but tight enough to that Vessel can feel his own moans, tight enough he's forced to tilt his head back once more. All the while rocking and grinding into Vessel to meet Sleep's touches, chest heaving against Vessel's back with each muffled moan and gasp, ever desperate to be as close as possible.

Sleep was intoxicating on His own; III is… a different kind of intoxication. One that made Vessel feel like he was just beneath the surface, surrounded by water and so close to drowning but just beneath, so he gets intervals where he can break the surface and gasp for air before he's dragged back down that little bit.

"Vessel—" III's voice is little more than a whine. Desperate and airy and needy.

Vessel wants to reach back. To reciprocate the generous touches or to pull III around so he's the one against the counter. So he's the one left squirming and weak in the knees and barely coherent.

Two more tentacles catch his wrists—coiling, just tight enough he can't move his hands from the counter, twisting and twining over his palm and through his fingers, like a desperate hold. Not tight enough to be painful but tight enough to get his attention when he feels another winding around and up his neck again, until the tip can trace his lips and he desperately takes it into his mouth this time. Sweet. Wet. Liquid sugar. That little bit thinner than he's used to from Sleep and… definitely sweeter.

It's only when he realises the sensation is mirrored on his dick—slick and wetter than Sleep normally is—that it registers the tentacles don't belong to Sleep. That they're coming from III, that more of the thinner tentacles wrap tight around Vessel, pulling him flush to III's body as Sleep retracts Himself completely back into rift so the two are flush together. It's the grinding and stroking and III biting down on the tender flesh between shoulder and neck to muffle himself, when Vessel doesn't have the same luxury and the expletive echoes off the closed walls around them.

It's barely being able to hold himself up on his own—he's fairly sure he's only standing because of the counter and III still holding him close and tight—as his body gives small, involuntary jerks to process the post-coital haze trying to lull him back to a less aware state. It's a stuttering exhale as the sweetness slowly leaves his mouth and, as it does, the tentacle slowly retracts and reforms into a more familiar hand; all of the tentacles retract into III's body and he simply wraps both arms as tight around Vessel as he can manage, still coming down from his own high and breathing heavy against Vessel's neck.

"That… was new…?" It feels ridiculous to point out; but, talking is keeping him awake, even as he feels something in his chest flutter when III gives a breathless laugh.

"Not really… no one ever asked what—what my gift from Sleep was." Some of his words stutter as he tries to catch his breath. He stubbornly pushes his face into Vessel's neck, nuzzling and trying to nest, the same way he does when he's falling asleep. "… Are you upset?"

"About your gift?"

"That I didn't tell you."

He hums and—with an effort—manages to pry III's grip loose enough that he can turn and lean back on the counter and finally wrap his arms around the other vessel. He looks… worried, but meets the look, evenly, clearly looking for assurance.

"I think it is a wonderful manifestation of a gift. One we can talk about in the later hours." Vessel presses a gentle kiss to III's forehead, then his lips. Chaste, barely a brush of contact but enough that III looks surprised. "You're very sweet tasting, yes. That will be for later, as well. Can you walk?"

III just blinks a few times before the corners of his lips tug into a more cheeky smile. "Should be askin' you that, Ves… your room?" He nods, a bit absently; not quite willing to admit he's still trying to will feeling to his legs. "… Me, too?"

This time he answers by gingerly pushing himself off the counter—he still takes a moment to find his balance—and tugging III's hand, gently, to get him to follow. They barely hit the mattress before III is pressed flush against him once more, arms tight around Vessel's chest and face shoved against his shoulder. He's out cold within moments and Vessel simply pets his hair back.

You should rest, as well, Vessel.

He hums a little, to acknowledge Sleep and lets his eyes close. He knows rest won't come easily.

But, he is feeling significantly better… and is properly surprised that he wakes up in the morning, instead of simply opening his eyes from a restful state.

#sqooshy writes #sleep token #sleep token fanfic #vessel sleep token #iii sleep token #vessel/iii #sleep sleep token #sleep/vessel #sleep/vessel/iii #rating: mature #cw: sex #tentacles #consentacles #cw: mental health #ao3 link #not beta'd

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 6 months

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Childhood Coincidences

Summary: The Second Chapter to Crushed.

Warning: Sick fic

Rating: General

Characters: Hiccup, Snotlout, Toothless, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Astrid, Fishlegs

Pairing: /

Words: /

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: Crying to sleep

Whumpee: Hiccup, Snotlout

Author’s Notes: /

@ailesswhumptober

XOXOX

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that his ribs are terribly broken and not much could be done for them. Ice is found, crushed, and wrapped in cloth to put over that swollen knee until it melts. And Fishlegs decides to give Hiccup every pain killer under the sun within reason. Only alleviating his pain and providing support can help as it’ll help him breathe easier, yet also keep his ribs in place. At the same time, they prevent pneumonia. Especially after all the lungfuls of water he inhaled.

There were trying days in which the Riders kept him company constantly- he could barely get out of bed- and could not get him to admit why he refused to let them help him that first day.

If this alliance is to work, there should be no room for life-threatening secrets. Hiccup is entirely dependent on them for the time being, he needs them.

Until eventually, the worst does happen.

“And you’re sure it’s pneumonia?” Astrid asks quietly, a hand in her hair. Fishlegs nods solemnly. They’re still in Hiccup’s hut.

“If we don’t get Gothi to him now, he stands no chance,” they are dire words, but it’s the truth. Pneumonia can’t be left untreated, they simply can’t chance it. This illness is often fatal.

All day, Hiccup has been shivering and sweating because of a high fever. His breaths are once again short and shallow, every intake is like a knife stabbing into his lungs, as if the fractured ribs weren’t already troublesome enough. His coughing is moist, his mucus so thick he chokes if he doesn’t get it all up, which is extremely difficult. Pain killers aren’t enough, they need something for that cough, lest it be the reason a rib finally gets displaced.

Just as they’re talking about it, a new wave of coughing flares up and Toothless helps him sit up. It sounds like he’s choking and his face grows red trying to get it all out, tears streams down his cheeks. Watching him makes them cringe and if it looks that bad to them, they can’t imagine what it’s like to be the one to cough.

“We should go. Now. Ready Stormfly and Meatlug,” Astrid decides, taking command as Hiccup hasn’t been able to lead them since the rescue mission.

-XOXOX-

With Astrid and Fishlegs gone on a four-day flight to and from Berk, it leaves Snotlout in charge of the twins. They, too, can see how bad Hiccup is doing. For once, the Edge is left in their responsible hands.

Wringing out a soaked cloth, Snotlout replaces it on Hiccup’s forehead. He’s been in and out of sleep, his cheeks a bright red from the fever and his undertunic wet through and through, hair matted and sticking flat to his skull. He’s shivering, but they can’t use any of their furs, it wouldn’t do his fever good, they’d just be cooking him alive.

It’s quiet. There’s a fire burning downstairs to keep the hut warm. Toothless is curled up on one side of the bed while Snotlout sits on a stool at the other.

“It’s been so long… since I’ve last felt this bad,” Hiccup breathes, laying a hand on the cloth as if trying to become one with the slight relief it provides. His head is pounding.

Another cough breaks free, Toothless’ head snaps up, Snotlout helps him sit up, arms around him.

“Oh Gods,” Hiccup moans miserably. His difficulty breathing, his pain, and his illness all get to him again. He is in a truly horrible state. So when he moans and tears slip free, Snotlout really can’t blame him.

He tries his best to suppress the sobs threatening to break free, the jolts of his body only make things worse.

“You mean, you haven’t felt this awful since your leg?” Snotlout asks helpfully, trying to distract him as he lets him back down gently and Hiccup look up at him in confusion.

“My leg?” He sniffs, apparently he can’t remember losing an entire limb.

“No, I’m… I’m talking about when we were kids… You know, when… When I was sick all the time?” Snotlout raises an eyebrow. He takes the cloth back to soak it again. “Every winter… It felt like I’d die, but I didn’t.”

He freezes mid-wring.

“What do you mean you almost died when we were kids?”

Toothless comes up and purrs down at Hiccup, nuzzling him and distracting him.

“I know, Bud… I need sleep,” his Rider tries to roll onto his side, only to be met with more pain. He moans and that gets him to cough again.

Snotlout doesn’t help. He can’t, overcome with shock and questions. Luckily, Toothless is there to help out. He ends up crying until he finally dozes off, released from his awful reality.

-XOXOX-

Later that evening, Snotlout met with Ruffnut and Tuffnut in the newly finished clubhouse. It was time for them to take over his shift, so he could start dinner. It was his turn tonight.

The place is a mess, the twins have clearly been up to something, but when Snotlout walks in, they’re quiet.

“How is our fearless leader?” Ruffnut asks, but Snotlout just walks right past her and to the kitchen. The twins share a look.

“Uh, hello?” Ruffnut calls after him. “How is he?”

Snotlout stops, but not to answer her question.

“What do you guys remember about Hiccup’s disappearance?”

“Uh, which one? We know more than one,” Tuffnut shrugs.

“There is a surprising amount of Hiccups in our little corner of the word. Berk even had three!” Ruffnut helpfully adds.

“Hiccup The third. Stoick’s kid.”

Brother and sister look deep in thought, arms crossing and hands on their hips, a thoughtful expression on both of their faces.

“She got taken by a dragon, right? She was always disappearing into the forest, Astrid tracked her to this one cove, but one day she just didn’t come back. Stoick’s kid, not Astrid. Astrid came back.”

“Yeah, it was right before dragon training ended, too. She was doing a really good job.”

“We told Stoick about the cove, but all we found were signs that a dragon was there once. And Hiccup’s knife in the lake.”

Snotlout crosses his arms, a contemplative look to him. “You remember what those signs were?”

“Scales, fish bones, patches of burnt grass, a broken tree… You know, like a fight had broken out. And then we found Hiccup’s knife in the water,” Ruffnut repeats. But no body, which is why they’re trusting Hiccup the Dragon Master- or Feralcup, if one is nasty- to know where Hiccup the Lost Princess might’ve gone.

With a troubled expression, Snotlout continues on to the kitchen in the back and neither Ruff nor Tuff follow him. They simply look at one another and Tuffnut shruggs.

Snotlout is glad that they’re not following him, he needs to think.

What the Dragon Master just told him was a story of their childhood. When Snotlout was a wee lad and would watch as Stoick would keep his daughter indoors for the dozenth time that year because she was born much too early and that made her a sickly child.

Did the Dragon Master have a similar childhood?

Grabbing pots, Snotlout finds himself trying to remember their heir. It's been only three years, yet his memories of her are quite vague.

At 15, she had those round cheeks, like the baby fat hadn't all quite left her. There was barely anything on her, scrawny as she was. Her hair when not braided- she hated having her hair done- and came down to her butt. He admittedly thought she was at least a little cute back in the day, even though she was far from a warrior. She's nothing like the sickly man currently confined to his bed.

For one, he's a guy, there's no mistaking that. There's not an ounce of baby fat in his cheeks and his hair is significantly redder from spending all his time in the open sun, not to mention it's considerably shorter. And again, he’s very obviously a guy.

So that is what this must be then; a coincidence. Maybe Snotlout reminds him of someone from his own tribe before he lost it and that’s why he said what he said.

Snotlout grabs the ingredients for their dinner for tonight and for Hiccup’s soup. The thoughts continue to plague him, no matter how hard he tries to push them away.

This has to be a coincidence. It just has to be.

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asirensrage · 2 years

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Consequences

Title: Consequences Fandom: Shadow and Bone Rating: M Pairing: Slight Aleksander x unnamed OC Word count: 3420 Warnings: dark!fic, grey!oc, threats, coersion, being offered as a sacrifice, swearing, use of a knife, attempted murder, actual murder (or would it be manslaughter?), blood consumption, violence, demon!aleksander

Summary: Based on the scary story prompts from @darkpromptsyouneveraskedfor. Prompts include: 15) "I made my sacrifice, now it's your turn." and 8) You're hired to house sit one of the heritage homes in town but realize you're not alone.

Horror prompts masterlist

Notes: This is a dark fic. Heed the warnings. There is attempted murder, friendships breaking and more. Shout out to @vixenofcourse who helped me with this. Enjoy!

“You just have to come, water the plants, hang out. It’s easy money.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?”

“Because I have plans.”

“Whose house is it again?”

“No one’s. It’s empty right now. The sellers are locked in some battle with buyers who want the rights to update it.”

“But isn’t it a…”

“Yeah. The fancy plaque on the wall says they’re not allowed to change a thing. That’s not stopping them from trying though. Just do me this favour. Please.”

“Ugh, fine. But you owe me.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

She hangs up the phone and sighs. It’s not the best gig but at least it’ll be easy. All she needs to do is pick up the keys and check the place out. With her luck, it’ll be haunted but no one said she had to stay the night.

🏠

Her friend isn’t around when she goes to pick up the keys but it’s fine. There’s a coded safety case that realtors use and she knows the combination. The house is eerie. She hasn’t even gone inside yet but the exterior is all Victorian trim and dark colours. It looks like it belongs to the Addams Family. The plaque next to the door declares it a historical site. She stares at it for a moment. It’s the cause of all her problems, at least right now.

She gets the key from the box. It looks new, as though the locks have been changed but the door still looks like it belongs in the 1800s. She’s not entirely sure it’ll fit, and if she has to call her friend because someone left the wrong key, she’s going to be pissed. It’ll just add to this waste of time.

The key fits.

The door creaks open. An ominous warning to the dark that lies ahead. It’s a little impressive actually. They must have blocked the windows. That was creepy. Now that she thought about it, who were the original owners? Or the current ones. Jen never said.

She walks in. She had to water plants? In this place? The only thing that was going to grow here was mold. The door closes behind her. She turns as she’s shrouded in darkness. She left it open so she could find a light.

“Must have been the wind,” she says. “Closing…a very heavy door…” She rolls her eyes. It was just her luck acting up again. She never had much of it. It was the same reason she couldn’t hold down a proper job. Things just happened. Weird shit seemed to follow her and everything got blamed on her.

She digs out her phone and turns on the flashlight. That made it creepier. There was something about not being able to see everything around you. It made her feel like there was something behind her. She shudders.

“Alright, let’s just look around, turn on some lights and get out of here.”

Finding a light switch was harder than she expected. Original switches from the last time the house was renovated, before it was considered historical, look nothing like the ones she’s used to.

She finally finds the toggle switch but it doesn’t work. At least, nothing happens. “Of course, the place can’t even work…” She turns, looking around for another, when something touches the back of her neck. She jumps.

A quick turn, flashing the light around her, reveals…nothing. Despite the fact that something just touched her, she knows something touched her, nothing is there. She’s still in the silent, creepy house.

“And we’re done,” she says out loud. She’ll stand watch outside if she has to, but she’s leaving.

Wind blows past her as she leaves the room. She stops. Where did that come from?

“Nope. No, no, no,” she tells the house before heading to the door.

“Leaving so soon?”

She jumps again, turning towards the voice. She pushes her back against the wall, right by the door. “Who’s there?”

“We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet.”

She moves the flashlight around until she finds him. The man is standing on the stairs facing her. She can’t make out his features very well, it’s too dark and he’s too far away. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she says, sounding far more confident than she feels. Cold creeps up her spine.

“Trust me, we’re exactly where we are both meant to be.”

She grabs the door handle, keeping herself facing the man. She’s not about to turn her back on a stranger, not in this creepy house and not when she was told no one is supposed to be here. “I’m going to go,” she says. “You look like you have this in hand.”

“I regret that you will not.” He seemed to disappear from her view and she turns, trying to find him again.

His face appears in front of hers. She jolts back, hitting the door hard. “I made my sacrifice,” he says softly. “Now it’s your turn.”

He leans forward, mouth parting and displaying rows of teeth that glisten in the little light there is. His eyes are black.

“I don’t think so!” She shoves him back. To her surprise, he actually stumbles. He looks at her confused. “I’m no one’s sacrifice!”

He stares at her for a moment, head tilted. “No,” he says softly. “I don’t believe you are.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, feeling as though it is either about to burst or stop completely. She can see him clearly now. He looks human but there is something off about him. It’s not only the black eyes and too many teeth. There is something that sets everything in her on edge.

He moves faster than she sees, gripping her jaw. It’s gentle and yet inescapable. Even trying to pull back slightly fails. He turns her face, examining her from all sides. “What a curious thing you are,” he says quietly. “She must not have known.”

“Who?” She can’t help but ask.

“The one who sent you here. She requested a boon, but they are not to be given without sacrifice. I would have escaped this prison with your death but now…”

“Hold on, my death?” She glares at him. “You’re telling me Jen sent me here purposefully to die?”

“Are you surprised?”

“You think?!” She scowls at the man in the dark. “Let me out. I’m going to kill her.”

His eyes seem to gleam in the light. “Are you?” He reaches out again, touching her face softly. There are claws on his fingertips. “Perhaps we could make a deal?”

“I’m not into deals,” she tells him, unimpressed at what he’s already suggesting.

He grins. It’s wide enough that it looks as though it will swallow his face. “Nothing like you’re thinking. Call her here. I was promised a human soul, not one like you. Bring her and I’ll tell you the truth of what you are.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She asks, staring at him. “You want me to call her, get her to come over here so what? You can kill us both?”

“Do you know what the boon she asked for was?”

“Obviously not.”

He smirks, amused by her sharp edges. “She sold your life away for wealth and the love of a man named John.”

“Oh for the–” She cuts herself off. “John?! Really? That asshole?” She can’t help herself. “She’s been obsessed with him for years and he knows it! He’s played her like a fiddle. Calling her when he wants sex and dropping her as soon as she presses for more and she still goes back for more!”

“Humans are frivolous with their affections,” he says mildly.

“She’d kill me to win that asshole? Fuck it.” She lifts her phone, shutting off the flashlight that was eating at her battery and succumbing to the dark and the thing in it. She’s pissed off now. It was one thing to set her up, to send her on this stupid task and try to sacrifice her. Hell, the economy was hard, she could understand it really, but for John? Hell no.

Her friend is in her recently contacted section. It goes to voicemail. Of course, it does. If she was setting her up to die, she probably didn’t want to hear her screaming. Well, two could play this game.

“Hey Jen,” she says in as light-hearted a tone as she can maintain once the voicemail beeps. “I’m trying the code you gave me but it’s not working. I can’t get into the house. Are you sure it’s the right one?”

She hangs up. “And now we wait.”

“Clever,” he praises.

She ignores it and turns her flashlight back on. She isn’t ready to wait in the dark with…whatever it is.

It takes about a minute for her so-called friend to call her back. Maybe it’s guilt? Maybe it’s a warning and she didn’t listen to the message.

She answers. “Hey.”

“You can’t get in?” There’s a trace of panic there. She wonders if she should be insulted at how fast Jen responded to that. How fast they listened for proof of her demise.

The thing in front of her is grinning again. She ignores it, stomach curdling in disappointment. “No, the code doesn’t work.”

“Are you sure? It’s 5935.”

She waits for a moment before she responds. “That’s what I tried. I just did it again, and got nothing. I’m just going to go home, okay?”

“No!” Jen nearly shouts it before trying to recover. “I mean, just wait. I can stop by quickly and check it. I have the override.”

“Then why am I here? You said you were busy.” She can’t help but dig into the lie now. She wants to see what the excuse is.

“I am. I just have a few minutes, like I said, but I can pass by. Just wait for me, okay?”

“Fine.” She hangs up. Was this really worth it? Could she send someone to their death?

“Tell me about this John.”

She scowls at the thing wearing a man’s face. “Can you read minds?”

“I don’t have to. It’s in your expression.”

“I told you everything you need to know.”

“Then tell me about you. Your parents, your life.”

She looks at him, at the eager twitch to his smile, and ignores the demand. She owes him nothing, even if the thing has offered to take Jen’s life instead. Anger sits in the base of her throat. A sacrifice. Things like that shouldn’t be real, they shouldn’t exist, but neither should the thing that looks like a man but has too many teeth. It’s better to be angry instead of hurt. It’s not the first time someone has tried to take something from her, or used her, but it stings every time and it has yet to get easier. Especially when she thought they were friends. Good friends.

“I’m not telling you anything about my family.”

“Well then I’ll guess, shall I? You’re the odd one out for no reason you can see or they can name? They forget about you frequently and with alarming ease and seem relieved at your absence? They meet your basic needs but take no joy in it, just performing an obligation and no effort is made to bond further?”

She bares her teeth at him. She doesn’t agree or disagree. It’s true that her family wasn’t the warmest or most supportive, but it didn’t matter. Her luck always ran in the worst ways and the people around her sometimes got caught up in it. That often included her parents.

He looks up, past her and towards the door. “She’s here,” he tells her.

“That was quick.” Another nail in the coffin. Another shred of proof at how much her ex-friend wanted the boon she was willing to trade another’s life for.

They fall quiet and she can hear her friend now, coming up the steps and calling her name. She doesn’t respond. She can’t. Not yet. She doesn’t know what to say and there is no real way to explain why she is inside. Especially after the call.

It doesn’t matter. A key scrapes against the lock and she moves back, behind the door so that she’ll be hidden when Jen enters. The thing looks amused but does not give her away. Instead, it seems to melt back into the shadows and she turns the flashlight off on her phone.

The lock gives way and the door opens slowly. The light from the outside illuminates the front hall and even from behind the door, she catches sight of things she missed when she entered. The way the staircase was rotting. The dust on the broken frames that were somehow still on the wall.

Jen calls her name.

Her heart pounds in her chest, regret and hope churning her stomach. This could be a mistake. It could…

“Did you get her?” Nevermind. Jen’s voice is dispassionate and curious. “Did she get inside? Where’s my prize?”

Her lip curls in a snarl at that. Jen moves forward and she takes the chance to close the door behind her former friend. It seems darker than before now that the light is extinguished.

“John?” she has to ask. “Really? That manwhore?” Jen turns to the sound of her voice but neither of them can see each other. She just knows that she’s still there. “That’s what my life is worth to you? I die in some gruesome manner so you can live happily ever after with a fuckboy who drops you on the regular?! You are some piece of work.”

“What are you talking about?” Jen gives a forced laugh. “It was just a joke.”

“Sure it was.”

“You honestly thought I’d sacrifice you?” she asks, peering into the shadows by the door.

“I think the thing that was ready to eat me is more believable than you are right now.”

“Lying does not become you, Jennifer,” the voice of the thing echoes through the dark. “You offered her life in exchange for wealth and the devotion of an unworthy man.”

“I–”

“Just admit it,” she says.

“It’s not like anyone was going to miss you!” Jen says it quickly, in one breath.

She swallows down the hurt at that. “That doesn’t excuse it!” she snapped back.

“You know,” the thing calls out. “I should really thank you, for all that you are unaware of the treasure you’ve placed before me.”

“I gave you a sacrifice,” Jen snaps towards the voice. “Where’s my gift?”

“There’s no sacrifice!” She snarls. “I am not fodder for your garbage happily ever after!”

“Take her!” Jen nearly screams. “You owe me!”

“I owe nothing,” the voice responds. “You, however, owe me a life.”

“I gave you one!”

“You owe a human life.”

Jen screeches at that.

She watches as Jen turns towards her, reaching out and leaping forwards. She jumps back but there’s nowhere to go, no space to lean out of Jen’s range trying to slash at her with what looks like a kitchen knife. She slams her hand forward, knocking Jen’s shoulder as she tries to shove her back.

“If he won’t do it, I will! I’ll get what I deserve!” Jen snarls as her fingers grab her hair and she feels a sharp bite along her side and a tug at her shirt as the knife is drawn back to strike again.

She tries to slam her elbow into Jen’s face but the positioning is awkward. As much trouble as she draws, she’s never really been in a fight before. She’s never had someone trying to kill her. One more shove and she hears the knife clunk onto the floor and skitter away in the dark as one of them kick it in the struggle.

“Help!” She calls out. She knows the thing is watching, can practically taste their eagerness for more bloodshed in the air. She’s not sure whose but she does not intend for it to be hers.

“Gouge her eyes,” the voice calls out. “Use your teeth!”

That wasn’t a bad idea. She turns, wincing as Jen’s grip pulls her hair harder with the motion, and bites down on her arm.

Jen screams and lets go.

She grabs Jen’s hair, repayment of course, only this time she does her best to slam her former friend’s head into the wall. Jen tries to shove her off, but after the first successful hit, the woman is dazed and she does it again and again.

The anger comes out then. The betrayal and fear and desire to survive all come out as she slams Jen’s head over and over. It’s only when she actually feels blood on her hands that she comes back to herself and let’s go. Jen crumples at her feet.

“Oh my god.”

There is slow clapping and her attention returns to the figure who moves closer. She can make him out now in the dark. It’s almost as if a light has been turned on somewhere, just enough that she can start to make things out. Maybe it’s just that her eyes have adjusted to the darkness.

“Beautifully done,” it says.

“I didn’t–”

“You did.” It crouches down and she can see as it touches the blood that’s pooling around the head. It puts its finger in its mouth. “She’s not dead, yet. Thank you for that.” She’s not sure where he gets the knife from but she watches as he slams it down into Jen’s chest. He twists the blade and she looks away.

She inhales sharply. “You have your life,” she says. “We’re done.”

“Not yet,” the figure stands up. The dark eyes somehow shine as he grins at her. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Not even to know the truth?”

“About what? Her?” She motions to the body on the floor. “I don’t care.” And she doesn’t. Not anymore. She regrets that friendship now. She regrets letting her in.

“About what you are,” it says. “Why you didn’t meet the criteria for the deal.”

She pauses. That’s true. “And what am I?”

“Not human. Not completely.”

“I’m not interested in your games,” she snaps. “Either tell me or open the door and let me leave.”

“No games. Not with you.” It moves closer, a claw traces down her cheek and she tries not to flinch. “We could have a lot of fun. I could show you…many delights.”

“Are you going to tell me why you spared me or not?”

“There’s demon in you,” it says. “A rare thing.”

“Sure there is.” She rolls her eyes. “Can I go?”

It stares at her for a moment before it moves. Suddenly, the place is illuminated. The lights are lit and she is faced with what the thing actually looks like. It looks like a human man aside from the way his clothing seems to be made of the darkness. His hair is as dark as his sharklike eyes. “We can go wherever you want, but first. Allow me.” He bites his thumb before he reaches down and she hisses as he presses his fingers against the cut on her side. He drags them across the entire cut.

It burns, sharp and cold. She tries to pull back and he releases her, once the pain finally stops. She glares at him. “I didn’t invite you.”

“And yet I have the answers I know you want.”

She stares at it, at him, for a moment. “A demon, huh?”

“You may call me Aleksander.”

“That’s a human name.”

“Is it? Who knew.”

She snorts at that. “He’s funny too.”

“A good demon has all the best qualities,” he says. He bends down over the body again and inhales sharply. She almost thinks she sees something move, going from one to the other, but he simply licks his lips. He stands and motions towards the door which opens without a touch. “Shall we?”

She ignores the arm he offers and walks out. He follows and walks next to her.

“Your anger was wondrous to watch,” he tells her. “Sharp in the best way, but dangerously slow to rise in your own defence.”

She glances at him. Now that he’s out of the house, he looks more human. It’s some sort of disguise but he grins at her as he catches her looking.

“You’ve got a little demon in you,” he says.

“Okay?” It’s still a matter of opinion.

“Would you like a little more demon in you?”

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse @delicateblackrose @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

#horror prompts #aleksander morozova fic #demon!aleksander #aleksander morozova x oc #the darkling x oc #darkling x oc #grey!oc #dark!fic #though not that dark tbh

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m0n0lithical · 11 months

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Sims - get to know me

Tagged by @igotsnothing thanks so much I absolutely wanted to do this one! Also if ya’ll like occults you better go follow them.

1. What’s your favourite sims death? Either meteor because of HOW dramatic it is, or pufferfish since that’s like, the only way for your own sim to kill another sims (without mods, anyway).

2. Alpha CC or Maxis Match? Mostly Maxis, but I do have mix elements (like the hairs that aren’t TECHNICALLY alpha but are so detailed they almost look it), especially in my fandom saves because the outfits in those are always alpha.

3. Do you cheat when your sims gain weight? Nah, if I really want a sim to stay the same weight, I lock the weight/gain loss (I do this for my selfsim every time so she’ll STOP LOSING WEIGHT oh my god woman). But if I’m playing with it on, what happens happens.

4. Do you use move objects? I don’t even have to enter this cheat because it’s always ticked on my BBB.

5. Favorite mod? I mean the most practical favorites are MCCC and BBB, and really most of the ;must haves’ the majority of people have, so lemmie pick a lesser seen one – PreferencesPlus by Helaene is a huge game-changer for someone who really dislikes all the missing likes/dislikes in the game.

6. First expansion/game/stuff pack you got? ...I wanna say Outdoor Retreat? I know, horrible pick, I didn’t know how lacking it was.

7. Do you pronounce “live mode” like aLIVE or LIVing? Like LIVing

8. Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? This...is hard, but I’m gonna have to roll with Amie, because she’s evolved beyond being just a sim at this rate – she’s also my FFXIV character, as well as a VtM character. But she absolutely did START as a sim.

9. Have you made a simself? Yes – she’s set loose in EVERY save I have for sake of hilarity – I love passing by her in-game and she’s doing something utterly random. The last time I saw her she was shooting down a goth witch lady flirting with her – thrilled the sexuality update can make her proper asexual now, was so happy to see it without having to put dumb flags on her!

10. What sim traits do you give yourself? Lover, Unflirty, Lazy, Cat Lover, Creative, Foodie.

11. Which is your favorite EA hair color? I’m a pretty big fan of the middle red tone. Or the green, if we’re picking unnatural colors.

12. Favorite EA hair? The RoM updo short locs are SO good. Honorable mention to the EL undercut half-ponytail.

13. Favorite life stage? I’m gonna be boring and say YA, because the game is LITERALLY built around them so you have so, SO many more options.

14. Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? I do a little bit of everything, but CAS is my specialty. I spend HOURS in there.

15. Are you a CC creator? If some hair/eye recolors and simple tattoos count, then yeah. I really can’t be fussed learning blender beyond pose-making.

16. Do you have any simblr friends/a sim squad? My social anxiety stops me from interacting a lot, even if I try my best to talk to people. Like, I know the chances of someone being an asshole to me are very, very slim and that most everyone is chill and laid back like I am – REASONABLY I know I’m being dumb, but also my brain is an asshole.

17. What’s your favorite game? In Sims, I’ve honestly only played 4 (a friend sent me 3 a while ago but I have yet to fire it up). Outside sims? Uh...Okami for single player, Guild Wars 2 for multiplayer.

18. Do you have any sims merch? God I wish.

19. Do you have a YouTube for sims? Hahahah like my internet would let me upload videos.

20. How has your “sim style” changed throughout your years of playing? Lord I have no idea...I’ve been fiddling with different types of sim face styles, but I keep falling back to the same one, really – at least for non-themed saves. And it doesn’t even stand out I’m pretty basic bitch.

21. What’s your Origin ID? Monophony! I mostly make sims, but there’s a few terrible builds there, too.

22. Who’s your favorite CC creator? That is a hard as hell question...but I wanna say @simandy,. For multiple reasons, but primarily because their hairs are just...to die for.

23. How long have you had a simblr? It’s been a year or two, but I took several hiatuses as I got distracted by my MMOs. I have a goldfish attention span.

24. How do you edit your pictures? I have several different reshade presets I’ll alternate between, and a good number of Photoshop actions and/or PSDs, and it’s always some combo of those. Each save has a different reshade/action (or PSD) combination to make them have their own looks (I have a word doc for ref so I know what save uses what combo).

25. What expansion/game/stuff pack is your favorite so far? Vampires will always be my favorite, but I was shocked by how much I also enjoyed Werewolves – I’m not a werewolf person, really. Non-occult...Growing Together really does add a ton through the whole game.

26. What expansion/game/stuff pack do you want next? I uh...well you see >-> I’M STUPID WITH MY MONEY I HAVE THEM ALL.

I’m only gonna tag a few peeps since I’ve seen most people having done this - @simarcana, @druidberries, @apricote, @lotus030, @salemssimblr if ya’ll wanna do this here’s your excuse! <3 Feel free to ignore if you don’t wanna!

#tag game

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motivationisdead · 2 years

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Some things in Chapter 52 of Mo Dao Zu Shi (ExR translation) that caught my eye for various reasons:

Lan WangJi, “We are not familiar.”

It’s a little baffling to me that so much of the fandom seems to take offense at Wei Wuxian not realizing Lan Wangji likes him but like *points upwards*. Of course Wei Wuxian thinks Lan Wangji didn’t like him or was just tolerating him when all their interactions involved Lan Wangji pushing him away. That’s not obliviousness on Wei Wuxian’s part.

Like, I’m kind of irritated with Lan Wangji’s attitude at this point in time. He really is just being a dick to Wei Wuxian because he likes him. Thank god Lan Wangji matures in the future and learns to deal with his emotions better. It’s great growth on his part. No wonder Wei Wuxian was so thrown when Lan Wangji started being nice to him though.

Wei WuXian turned around and walked facing the back, determined on making Lan WangJi look at his face, “Don’t force yourself if it’s not fine. Is your leg hurt or broken? When did it happen?”

I’m sorry but Wei Wuxian needing Lan Wangji to look at him is adorable.

The voice of the girl called MianMian was indeed soft and sweet, “Inside of the sachet is filled with minced medicinal plants. It can be useful in quite a lot of ways. I’ve still got a few here. Do any of you want one?”

Wei WuXian swept over like a foreboding gust of wind, “MianMian, save me one too.”

…

Wei WuXian shouted from behind, “You can go, but give me a sachet, won’t you?! You’re ignoring me? You don’t want to? If you don’t, I’ll find other people and ask for your name. There must be someone out there who’s willing to tell me…”

I like how Wei Wuxian learns Lan Wangji is injured and his second course of action after confronting him about the injury is to acquire something that can help him. Wei Wuxian is absolutely having fun teasing/flirting with Mianmian but his end goal and main focus was clearly getting a sachet from her that has medicinal plants in it.

Wei Wuxian’s care is a lot quieter because he pays less attention to his own acts of goodness than he does the people around him.

He [Lan Wangji] spoke the two words through clenched teeth, along with some strange hatred. He didn’t even deem it worthy to give Wei WuXian another glare. Lan WangJi strained to speed up and walk faster. Seeing that he was forcing himself again, Wei WuXian hurried, “Fine. You don’t have to walk this fast. I’ll just go.”

But unfortunately Lan Wangji gets mad at him about the flirting before Wei Wuxian can get much further in trying to help him. And it’s only when Wei Wuxian sees Lan Wangji pushing himself, and likely hurting himself further, in order to get away from him that Wei Wuxian backs down and leaves.

Wei WuXian, “It’s alright if he [Lan Wangji] hates me—I don’t hate him. I’ll get him onto my back the second I get hold of him. Could he possibly choke me to death while on my back?”

Jiang Cheng warned, “We aren’t even able to care for ourselves; how do we have the time to care about the trivialities of others?”

Wei WuXian, “First, this isn’t a triviality. Second, things like this, somebody will have to care about them, sooner or later!”

There’s something incredibly heartbreaking with Wei Wuxian thinking Lan Wangji hates him while still being so determined to help him.

And there’s something extremely callous about Wei Wuxian talking about how Lan Wangji might not be able to use his leg again at this rate and Jiang Cheng telling him not to worry about trivialities of others. Trivialities. Because apparently losing the use of your leg is trivial.

Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji don’t get along in the future, and at this point I don’t think they’ve ever even interacted with each other, but Jiang Cheng can’t even show the slightest hint of concern or sympathy? Like Jiang Cheng just clearly doesn’t care here.

Wei WuXian pretended to be surprised, “Do you need me to repeat it? Sure. All those who oppress others and do evil relying on the power of their clan should be killed. Not only that, they should be beheaded for tens of thousands to revile so that those to come would beware. You heard it this time?”

Hearing this, Wen ZhuLiu seemed to ponder as he glanced at Wei WuXian.

I don’t know why this moment stands out to me but it does.

For starters I think it’s the first time Wen Zhuliu comes off as… human(?). Before now he’s mostly been presented as a weapon to keep the sect heirs from retaliating against Wen Chao. His personality was irrelevant up to this point.

And here he’s not written as angry on Wen Chao’s behalf or defensive or some mindless follower. Instead he seems almost thoughtful? It’s just an interesting thing for MXTX to include here.

On the other hand, as Wei WuXian provoked Wen Chao, he was precisely waiting for the moment of uncontrollable rage. The smile by his lips didn’t falter at all as he attacked with the speed of lightning. In a split second, he had snatched the sword and reversed the situation, subduing Wen Chao with just one move!

Just Wei Wuxian being an utter badass. ❤️

#mdzs novel #chapter 52 #quotes #chapter analysis #wei wuxian #lan wangji

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hekate1308 · 2 years

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Fictober 2022, #12

Prompt: “You’re making my head hurt“

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: G

Pairings: Destiel

“Cas” Dean says, bringing his hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose, "You're making my head hurt."

It’s not that he’s not happy Cas has decided to stay with them at the bunker for the foreseeable future instead of fluttering off to Heaven or wherever he used to go when he flew off. He is. For several reasons, some of which he is even ready to acknowledge, like the fact that he’s now living with his two best friends.

But the fact is, sometimes this leads to situations that are just… ever so slightly bizarre, and this is definitely one of them.

“But Papa Smurf would have to have known Granny Smurf, since she and Grandpa Smurf appear to be close, so it makes no sense that he would ask to be introduced –“

“Cas, I am not discussing the genealogy of the freaking Smurfs with you.”

“But it makes no sense –“

“It’s a kids’ show, I don’t think they cared enough to think all of that through.”

Cas frowns. “It seems to me that one should care more about what one allows children to watch than when the intended audience consist of adults…”

“That may be true, but that’s not how it works.”

Cas thinks about it for a moment, then says, “I think there are a lot of things I do not yet understand, despite having known you and your brother for over a decade.”

Dean laughs; he can’t help it. “Cas, you’ve been around for millennia. You can’t tell me that me and Sammy are a more important blip on your radar than freaking Moses or any of those other guys and gals.”

Cas is silent for a heartbeat or two, then he slowly but surely backs away, leaving the room altogether, and Dean has no idea what he’s done now. It’s only too natural to think that he is at fault, only he really can’t say what exactly he did, but well, this is dean we’re talking about, so of course he did something.

Thing is, he doesn’t think he was wrong. Sure, Cas is a pretty big thing for him… and Sam (although in very different ways, and such as he will never divulge to another being if he can help it) but why should he feel the same way? Guy was around when the freaking Tower of Babel was built, and for what it’s worth, no matter what they’ve been through, Dean still thinks that’s more important than their troubles.

Should he apologize? In the end, he just shrugs and goes to blow off some steam in the kitchen. That usually works for him, and it’s a hell of a lot healthier than drinking, which he has been doing a lot less of ever since Cas moved in, now that he thinks about it.

When Sam enters the room, he assumes he’s going to chew him out for upsetting Cas, but somehow his brother mostly looks… sad? It’s somewhat confusing, seeing as he’s usually pissed at Dean when he puts his foot in.

“Hey, Sammy. Care for a beer?”

Soe he cracked a cold one open after all. It’s just one drink, he can deal.

“Cas is upset.”

“Before you say anything, this actually started because of the freaking smurfs” he tells him, keeping his eyes on the scrambled eggs he’s making.

“Yes, he told me.”

“Sorry if me not caring made him angry, but…”

“Dean, he’s upset because you doubt that you are the most important thing in his life.”

Scratch. Freeze frame. Or whatever the kids are saying, these days.

What the hell?

He takes a deep breath. “Calm down there, Sammy. You make it sound as if…”

“Dean, it’s okay. It’s not as if I don’t know.”

What? “Don’t know what?”

“Come on. You’ve been spending how much time in your room lately?”

That’s true, but – “Dude, we’ve been watching movies and stuff!” Hence their ill-fated Smurf binge.

“I know. I just meant that… if… that is…”

Isn’t this awkward.

Then, to make it even worse, Sam says, “You know I wouldn’t mind –“

“Goddamn it Sam, he’s an angel. He’s got better options.”

Another pause. Then, “You didn’t say that you aren’t –“

“Come off it Sam, of course I am. But that’s not the point.”

“Dean… you do realize Cas thinks it is?”

Wait a moment. “Are you saying that you think that –“

“Dean, I know. Dude can only stare at you for so long before even I get a hint.”

He takes another deep breath. “So you really –“

“Yes, Dean, really. So can you just go and talk to him? Please?”

He comes to a decision and cleans his hands. “Can you take over for me?”

Of course Sam agrees.

He turns back around at the door. “Oh, and if this goes right… don’t wait for me with dinner.”

His brother’s bitchfae is more than worth it, especially because he and Cas only re-emerge from their room the next morning.

#fictober22 #my writings #spn #destiel #dean winchester #castiel

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titsthedamnseason · 2 years

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is the zodiac academy really worth it? because I want something new to read but there are so many mixed reviews 👀

the tldr for this is yes as long as you know what you’re getting into. but there’s nothing i love more than explaining my own thoughts so i will also gladly elaborate despite no one asking

the reason i picked up this series was that i wanted something to read that would keep my attention for awhile, plus i was specifically looking for something with a large fandom following so there was actually content and this series has a lot of tiktoks, fanart, memes etc etc. so in that sense it has paid off as expected. i also didn’t have super high expectations which i think made my reading experience more reasonable. plus, i think that right before the last book releases is the prime time to read any long series - you get the excitement of a release without having to wait to long on cliffhangers multiple times and never have to reread

i have rated the books decently so far (pretty much a 3.5 for all of them which on my scale equates to being “fine”) and i saw someone on reddit (who would have thought i’d ever find myself on za reddit?!) ask why someone else kept reading the series if they rated it so low and the best explanation i saw was that it’s kind of like the twilight series - technically, the books aren’t written very well but i enjoy reading them because they’re entertaining. there’s a lot of typos (which tbh i think is kind of elitist when people complain about), weird inconsistencies in terms of british v american spellings/phrases (i didn’t think they were supposed to have british accents but the characters will sometimes use a british turn of phrase and confuse me because the girls that are supposed to be from chicago do it too - but the authors are british i believe so it makes sense), very basic and irrelevant plotlines (i’m literally just here for the romance, which has honestly gone downhill overtime lol), and so on. but i didn’t come into this fantasy romance series, literally called “zodiac academy” ffs, expecting any level of high literature. i’m just here for some mindless entertainment and so far it has been the perfect series to give me a laugh when i’m stressed over classes

i would say the biggest issue people have with the series is that it’s a bully romance…..which is strange because it could not be any more advertised as such. like, that’s how it’s marketed, there are content warnings at the beginning of each book, fantasy romance is often pretty dark, etc. so if you’re not someone who likes that but reads it anyway and then criticizes it for containing the thing it was advertised as….i can’t help you there lol.

however i’m actually going to contradict this a little to say that i think “bully romance” is somewhat of a misnomer in this situation. i don’t blame people or the authors for labeling it this way since it does take place in a school setting but i really think that’s the only thing that even qualifies it as such? i see the conflict as much more being a political rivalry so while it’s definitely enemies to lovers, i wouldn’t categorize it as “bullying” in the same sense i’ve never seen anyone call tfota a bully romance despite cardan also terrorizing jude when they were at school together. the conflict is solely politically driven and the people involved have mutual animosity. the “bullies” only have the edge because they have more magical knowledge but the twins that are getting bullied never lie down and take it and are actually even more powerful than them. if they truly are bullies, they’re pretty bad at it lol.

all this is to say, i usually hate bully romance novels but i really don’t mind it here at all. i think it’s a combination of the fact that the reason for their cruelty isn’t some bs “i’m depressed” “my parents hit me so i’ll hit you” “you’re so attractive that it makes me mad” etc and is actually literally only coming from a place of political strife, which is also known the whole time. like it’s never some secret that ends up getting revealed as for why the bullies act the way they do - it’s always known and they all even manage to get along / laugh together a lot because they get along as people despite their opposing statuses in life. i also think that because it isn’t your average standalone or duology bullying, but instead a whole series, the antagonists have a lot more time to change and grow in both the eyes of the reader and the twins

there’s also a teacher student romance with an age gap of 8 (i think?) years which if anyone knows me, knows is soooo not my cup of tea. but for some reason i like it here 🤭 i just think they’re really cute. but also when pll was airing i was a diehard ezria and now i can only look back at that time and cringe so i can only hope hindsight will be kind to me in this situation too

people also give it a lot of slack for being repetitive which i don’t really have a problem with. like i said, the fantasy/political elements are just plain bad anyway so i’m only here for the romance and interpersonal drama but even when i’m reading something play out that we’ve already seen i’m never like “ugh this again” i’m like “yessss omg this again” and pulling out some popcorn knowing it’s just good drama lol. i think the people who have this critique must not be reality tv fans who have to watch the same episodes week after week and the same seasons with production’s perfect unoriginally crafted drama every year lol

the last thing i’ll say i like about this is just that i think the series is funny and it has a good friend group! even when they’re against each other the characters have great connections and banter and plenty of scenes spent in each other’s orbit without all the negativity so it’s all leading towards a very nicely crafted found family plot that is chef’s kiss. they are a messy group of friends and like half of them have slept together and the other half has tried to but THEYRE MY MESSY GROUP OF FRIENDS!

#one day i’m going to get an ask and not write a dissertation. TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY #this was literally so unnecessary #and i wrote it like a week ago and now that i’m on the last book so much of this has changed 😭#this gif saved to my drafts on accident and i didn’t realize until someone else sent me an ask about it i’m so sorry #*got #asks #anonymous #juli reads redacted #god this is so embarrassing i can’t wait to finish this series and then never talk about it again

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larkawolfgirl · 2 years

Text

Waiting, like Abscence, Makes the Heart Grow Fonder (Gladnoct)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Relationship: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum Characters: Gladiolus Amicitia, Noctis Lucis Caelum

Summary: He pushed the boy away from him with more force than was necessary. If this was any other situation he would be kicking himself for causing such a hurt expression to pass Noct’s face. "You're underage."

Read on ao3

Gladio wrapped his arms around his prince, eating up the heat of him and the press of his body. He could keep kissing him all day for all he cared, but before he knew what was happening, there was a hand pressing against his junk and his eyes flew open. He pushed the boy away from him with more force than was necessary. If this was any other situation he would be kicking himself for causing such a hurt expression to pass Noct’s face.

“Noct,” he said harshly before the boy could say what he knew he was about to, “don’t you dare think that I don’t want to.”

That hurt expression quickly morphed into annoyance. “Then what’s the deal?” He tried to push forward but Gladio’s strength held him at arm’s bay.

“Huh, I wonder. Noct, you’re fifteen.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re underage.”

“Like I give a crap. I want you, Gladio.”

“You wanna know who gives a crap? Both our dads. I’m your shield, but you really think that’s gonna let ‘taking advantage’ fly?” He glared when Noct opened his mouth to object. “And, no, you telling them you wanted it ain’t gonna matter. Even if they decided not to strip my title, still wouldn’t make it right. You ain’t even sixteen yet, for fuck’s sake. Waiting ain’t gonna kill ya.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Noct,” his voice softened at the way his face fell. He pulled him back into an embrace. “Why is this so important to you?”

For some reason, this was the wrong thing to say, cause the prince tried breaking free from his grasp. “I don’t know. Maybe cause I freaking love you? Cause I don’t wanna sit by for three years while you...while you.”

“Hey!” Gladio cupped the back of his head, pressing it hard against his shoulder. “What the hell you going on about? While I what? Nothing’s gonna change. I’m still gonna be right here with you.”

“But...but…”

“Damn it, Noct! I can’t clear whatever stupid thought you have going on in that head of yours if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“I know you. I know you like getting laid. I’m just supposed to sit here being a good little boy while you get off with someone else.”

Gladio pushed him back just enough to meet his gaze. He couldn’t help the soft smile at the adorable pout on Noct’s face. “You can be a real idiot sometimes, you know that?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Really? An asshole head over heels for you.” Noct just continued to glare at him. “You act like I don’t have any self-control. Fine, maybe I’ve been with my fair share of lays, but that was only cause I was never in a serious relationship. You aren’t some lay, Noct. You’re my friend, my crown, my devotion. As if I’d push you away just to go fuck some stranger. I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you.”

Noct laughed. “You really are a romantic sap.”

Gladio smiled. “You know you love it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Noct pushed up to kiss him again and thankfully kept his hands safely above the waist this time.

“Okay, fine. But if I so much as catch you eying someone else the wrong way, you’re gonna have to face punishment.”

Maybe Gladio did have less self-control than he thought because he was unable to stop his mind from imagining a completely lewd punishment. From the look on Noct’s face, he could tell too. “You aren’t about to make this easy on me, are you?”

“Hell no. I’m a brat, and you love it.”

“Against my better judgment.”

Noct smacked him and turned away with a smirk. “Just remember, if you ever break down, the offer’s always on the table.”

Gladio’s eyes were glued to the way Noct swayed his hips as he walked away. Damn, this brat. It was going to a long wait.

#my writing #gladnoct #gladiolus x noctis #gladiolus amicitia #noctis lucis caelum #ffxv #final fantasy xv #fanfic #fanfiction

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kurokoros · 4 years

Text

liar liar | bakugou katsuki

Rated: M

Words: 9.4K

Pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Bakugou is hit with a strange quirk. You reap the benefits.

AN: This fic is 50% crack and 50% raunchy smut. I have zero explanations for this. Also big thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for ranting with me once about the fandoms weird level of hatred towards Bakugou, thus inspiring me to write something for him. I’m so sorry it was this.

Warnings: smut, language, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub undertones, rough sex, degradation, spanking, choking, inappropriate use of quirks

***

Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Kirishima glances at him out of the corner of his eye as they step into Bakugou’s office, red eyes narrowing in concern as he sees Bakugou’s gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Are you sure you’re okay, bro?” he asks, a little hesitant.

“I’m fine,” Bakugou practically snarls between his teeth. Fuck. The tingling sensation starts in his gut, heat spreading through his limbs, and he nearly swears aloud as the sensation shifts to his dick, his boxer-briefs getting uncomfortably tighter. Shit, he’s probably up to at least another inch by now. Thank god his pants are baggy.

Unfortunately, Kirishima isn’t so easily convinced. Brows furrowing, he looks Bakugou over slowly, searching for any lasting effects from their earlier scuffle with a few low rank villains. “You’ve been acting kind of… strange,” he settles on after an awkward beat of silence, “since you got hit by that quirk. You know, you probably should have gone to a—”

“I said I’m—” Bakugou cuts himself off as that tingle comes back. “I’ll be fine,” he corrects himself. The tingle goes away, and he almost groans in relief as his dick returns to its normal size. “Drop it, Kirishima.”

Kirishima holds his hands up in front of him, placating his huffy friend. “Okay, okay. I get it.” He backs off, still eyeing Bakugou warily as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He glances at the time. “Look, man, I gotta go. I have a date in twenty, and she’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.” His smile is apologetic, but exhausted.

“Whatever.” Bakugou tosses off one of his gauntlets, letting it clatter against the floor noisily. Breathing slowly through his nose, he peels off his mask as well, setting it down on his desk. It’s fine. Everything is fine. He can handle this. It’s just a really fucking annoying quirk that’ll probably go away on it’s own by the end of the day.

Another tingle stirs in his gut, and then his underwear tightens again.

Fuck. He can’t even lie to himself.

Just as casually as before, Kirishima says, “Yeah, and since I figured you shouldn’t be alone, I called you a babysitter,” as he types out a quick text on his phone. If that wasn’t bad enough, Kirishima calls out your name in a sing-song voice.

Bakugou drops his other gauntlet on his foot and whirls around. “You what?” he hisses, only half because of the pain. The sound of your name definitely doesn’t cause his heart to do something stupid like flutter in his chest. And his pants definitely don’t get snug around his crotch as he blatantly lies to himself. “Kirishima, what the fuck? Why would you call her?”

Taken aback by the outburst, Kirishima puts his phone away and shrugs. “I figured she’d make you feel better.”

“I don’t fucking want her here,” Bakugou tells him. Nothing happens in his pants. Like the bullshit quirk affecting his dick can’t decide if that’s a lie or not. Hell, Bakugou isn’t really sure either. Sure, he likes having you around, even if he’d never admit it. He likes seeing your pretty smile as you come flouncing into his office wearing one of those little skirts that make him want to bend you over his desk and—

He squeezes his eyes shut, banishing the thought before it can go any further and his pants grow any tighter from non-quirk related reasons.

On the other hand, you’re quite possibly the last person he ever wants to see him like this. Too bad the universe seems intent on fucking him over today.

“Nice to see you too, Bakugou.”

The sound of your voice hits him like a lightning strike, still sweet despite the sarcastic inflection of your tone. Bolts of electricity shoot up his spine. In his chest, his heart pounds viciously against his ribs, and Bakugou’s shoulders tense as every one of his senses suddenly becomes a tune to you. Even from across the room, the scent of your perfume tickles at his nose—something floral or fruity that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s heavy and enticing and he tries not to shiver as it wraps around him.

He doesn’t dare turn to look at you as you take a step further into his office, determinedly staring at the wall and hoping you’ll leave with Kirishima. Yeah, un-fucking-likely.

When his silence persists, you roll your eyes and turn to Kirishima instead, the pinched expression on your face relaxing into a pleasant smile when you meet the eyes of the more friendly half of the duo. “Thanks for calling, Kiri,” you say, smoothing out your skirt.

A wide grin is the response you get. “Of course,” Kirishima says, stretching out and linking his fingers behind his head. “Figured he’d listen to you over anyone else.” He ignores the glare Bakugou sends his way, his lips twitching in amusement at the stark silence coming from the explosive blond.

You scoff. “Hardly, but I’ll try.” Casting a glance at Bakugou, you’re a little glad he seems intent on ignoring you, because it gives you the perfect opportunity to give him a slow once-over—for injuries, of course. He looks fine to you, a few superficial scrapes and bruises, but nothing severe enough for Kirishima to call you.

The tension in his shoulders is the first thing you notice. Bakugou is awkwardly hunched over himself in a way that isn’t like him at all. Usually, the Pro Hero exudes confidence that would border on cockiness if he didn’t have the skills to back it up, but right now he just looks... uncomfortable. What little of his face you can see is pinched, but not in annoyance; it’s more like pain, you realize, but then his expression melts into one of relief and you’re left baffled once again.

Before you can think too hard about it, your gaze wanders lower and you’re promptly distracted by his bare arms.

Kirishima clears his throat when you stare at Bakugou’s biceps a little too long.

“What happened anyway?” you ask, turning back to Kirishima. Your face feels warm, and by the way he grins you can tell he notices your faint blush. “You didn’t say much on the phone.”

He sobers a little as you bring the conversation back to the other Hero. The humor bleeds from his eyes, his shoulders drooping. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t have much time. We ran into a couple of villains on patrol. One of them caught Bakubro off guard and he got hit with their quirk. Wouldn’t let anyone check him out after.” He shrugs halfheartedly, looking at you apologetically. “You know how he gets.”

Don’t you ever. You’ve never met someone as stubborn as Bakugou before in your life. He can be a real pain in the ass when he wants, and you can’t blame Kirishima for his best friend being a dumbass.

You prop your hands on your hips, eyes narrowing in on Bakugou again. “How long has he been sulking?” you ask just loud enough for Bakugou to hear you.

Ruby eyes pin you with a heavy glower that would probably make anyone else piss themselves. Bakugou’s lip pulls back in a snarl, his teeth bared, and you ignore the pleasant tingle that shoots down your spine. “I’m not fucking sulking!” he snaps at you, making your eyes roll.

“Sure you aren’t.” Before he can start arguing with you, you turn back to Kirishima. “What do we know about this quirk?”

“Nothing. Cops are questioning the guy now, but he’s not talking.” Kirishima gestures to Bakugou with his thumb. “And Ground Zero here keeps saying he’s fine.”

Across the room, Bakugou grumbles to himself under his breath, noticeably displeased with your lack of attention, but like hell he’s going to say anything about it. Jealousy is a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, and for once he can’t even pretend that’s not what it is as his glare shifts to Kirishima. Fuck, he wants you to look at him again. Pay attention to him.

The honesty is surprising to him, but he keeps his mouth shut and definitely doesn’t pout as you and Kirishima continue to chat like he isn’t even there. When it becomes clear that you aren’t going to end the conversation immediately, Bakugou huffs and turns around, glaring as he leans back against his desk, watching the two of you. His gaze skips right over Kirishima and lands on you, and he swallows back a frustrated groan when he finally gets a good look at you.

Fuck, you look good today. Unable to help himself, he’s absolutely shameless as he stares at your legs, your short skirt and high heels making them look even longer than usual. Bakugou grits his teeth as his mind drifts to those legs wrapping around his hips and yanking him closer. For once, he allows the thought to linger, lost in his own head.

“I see,” you murmur as your conversation with Kirishima comes to a close. With your lips pursed in thought, your gaze shifts back to Bakugou, only to find him already staring right back at you, watching you intently. Your pulse jumps under his piercing gaze, and it takes everything in you to break eye contact with him and smile at Kirishima instead. “I’ll take care of it. Have fun on your date, Kiri.”

Kirishima shoots you a megawatt smile and a thumbs up.“Will do! Good luck with this guy!” He pays no attention to Bakugou’s grumbling as he heads out the door, closing it quietly behind him, leaving you and Bakugou alone together in an office far away from other people.

Yeah, this should be fun.

You twist on your heels so that you’re facing Bakugou directly. Trying for a charming smile, you prop your hands on your hips. He glares at you and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly not planning on cooperating. And boy does it give you an excellent view of his muscled forearms, all tanned skin and silver scars from years of hero work. You wet your lips, suddenly thirsty.

“Okay, Ground Zero,” you start, giddily noticing the way he puffs up at your use of his hero name, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do we have to do this the hard way?” Your voice lowers at the end, coming out as a husky whisper.

Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow, and he grits his teeth against the pleasant warmth that curls in his chest. “Piss off,” he bites out, a low and dangerous edge to his voice that you easily ignore.

If you hadn’t known him for years, maybe it would be intimidating, but despite his gruff attitude and biting tone, you know he would never lay a hand on you. “Come on, Bakugou,” you try again, taking a step towards him as a small pout forms on your lips. “Please tell me? I just want to help and make you feel better.”

The breathy whine you let out paired with you wanting to make him feel better does absolutely nothing to help the situation going on in his pants.

His gaze slides to the side, avoiding your eyes as he tells you to “Just go home,” because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment there.

But you don’t back down. You can be just as stubborn as him when you want to be, and there’s no way in hell you’re leaving just so he can cling to his manly pride, or whatever it is he’s worried about. Clearly, asking nicely isn’t going to work. Honestly, you’d be more surprised if it did. “Hard way it is.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen, and his head snaps towards you just in time for you to launch yourself at him. It’s a bit difficult, between your skirt and heels, but you catch him off guard, and that helps. He tries to twist away at the last second, leaving you to cling to his back, limbs wrapping around him tightly. A surprised grunt escapes his at your sudden weight on him, but he doesn’t even stumble, letting you curl your body around him in a one-sided hug.

“Get off me, loser,” he growls at you, glaring at you over his shoulder. Despite his irritation, Bakugou makes no move to shake you off. In fact, one of his big hands latches onto your leg when you start to slip, allowing you to shift yourself for a better grip. He lets go of you just as quickly, standing stock still in the middle of the room while glaring at everything that isn’t you.

Your fingers dig into his shoulder where you’re grabbing him. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

This time, he does try to shake you off, and you squeal as your grip starts to slip. “I’m fine!” he snaps at you, only to wince a second later.

Ever the opportunist, you don’t think twice before hooking your leg around him and going for his knees. Bakugou swears as he loses his balance, and somehow you manage to knock him to the floor using a grappling move that he taught you. He ends up rolling in time to land on his back, cushioning your fall aa your knees press against the floor on either side of his hips, straddling him as you pin him with a firm look. Long fingers grasp at your upper thighs, his thumbs grazing the hem of your skirt, and he lets you go just as quickly, as if you’ve burned him

Bakugou looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, but, again, he makes no move to shove you away, though he definitely could.

“Oh, yeah, clearly you’re just fine,” you reply, sarcasm laid on thick. Your hands are pressed against his chest for balance as you regain your bearings, and you can feel the angry breath he takes. Bakugou is warm and solid beneath you, hips pressed snug against yours. It feels way too good, but that’s not what you need to be thinking about at this moment. “Now stop acting like a baby and tell me what’s going on.”

Looking up at you, Bakugou sighs when your fierce look doesn’t relent. He mutters something under his breath that’s too low for you to make out clearly, then grimaces. “It’s nothing,” he tells you again, a harsh edge to his voice.

You pin him with a glare. “You got hit by a strange quirk, Bakugou,” you tell him slowly, contempt dripping from every word. “That’s not nothing.” The crack in your voice on the last word is what makes him drop the sour look on his face. You wince, fingers curling tighter around his shirt, like that might keep you grounded. All the fear you felt when Kirishima called you earlier comes surging back through you, and it feels like a blow to the ribs. You stare at his chest as you continue, the words bubbling up and out before you can stop them. “I know you. You’re too damn prideful to go see a doctor and admit something is wron—and that scares me sometimes, you know? One day you could get really hurt.” Slowly, you force your eyes up, meeting his stare with your own tentative one. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong. For me?”

Bakugou’s expression softens nearly an imperceptible amount. His glare smooths out. “Fuck,” he growls under his breath, trying to ignore the violent tug on his heartstrings that comes with that pleading look in your eyes. He’s always been a sucker for you, and you damn well know it too.

But he’s not going to give in this time.

The tingle that goes straight to his crotch proves him very wrong.

You freeze above him, body locking up as something big and hard presses against your inner thigh. “Katsuki,” you say, forcing yourself not to react aside from the widening of your eyes. “Is that your…”

“Yeah,” he replies, jaw clenched. His tone is nothing short of mocking when he tacks on, “You’re sitting on my cock, sweetheart.”

Well, shit. You blink at him owlishly, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of literally anything to say in this situation that isn’t stupid, crass, or a blatant change of subject. It’s surprisingly hard to think with his bulge pressed up against your leg like this, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you turned on right now?” you ask incredulously, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I swear to God, Katsuki, I’m trying to be serious here, and you—”

He cuts you off. “I’m not fucking hard.” A pair of big, rough hands latch onto your thighs to keep you from squirming over his lap. “But if you keep moving around like that, I will be.”

“You liar.” A gasp sticks in your throat as he tightens his grip on your legs. By this point, you’re pretty sure you’re blushing, but honestly, you can’t find it in you to care when you are, in fact, basically sitting on his lap. Besides, Bakugou doesn’t look that much better. “If you were that big while soft, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed by now.”

Well that catches his attention. A smug smile stretches across his face. All teeth. “You spend a lot of time looking at it, angel?” Oh, this time he’s definitely mocking you. The palms of his hands slide up your thighs until his fingertips graze the hem of your skirt where it’s hiked partway up your legs, revealing a few tantalizing inches of your bare skin.

“Oh, no, you aren’t changing the subject,” you snap at him, sitting up a little straighter. “Why the hell is your dick so big, and what the fuck is going on?”

Your questions echo awkwardly through the otherwise silent room. For a tense moment, Bakugou just glares up at you. One of his eyes twitches slightly, his lips turned down in a grimace. You don’t relent, glaring right back at him. Eventually, one of you is going to have to give in, and it’s sure as shit not going to be you this time.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back against the floor. His fingers bite into your thighs when you shift on top of him, leaning a little closer. “It’s that dumbass villain’s quirk,” he sneers, baring his teeth in a snarl as he opens his eyes again. There’s nothing that could possibly prepare you for what he says next. “When I lie my cock gets bigger.”

You almost laugh. Almost. The deathly serious look in his eyes is the only thing that keeps you from bursting into a fit of giggles. And you believe him. You probably wouldn’t if you weren’t currently straddling his lap and sitting on his abnormally large cock. But, yeah. Sure. His dick gets bigger when he lies, and somehow that makes perfect sense.

“What, like some kind of kinky lie detector?” You almost suggest Pinocchio, but you doubt he’d take that well at all.

Predictably, he makes a face at your comparison. “Sure. Whatever.”

Again, neither of you say anything, letting an awkward silence develop between you. While Bakugou just looks all around uncomfortable with the situation, your brow is pinched in thought. Honestly, this quirk seems like some bullshit. You can’t imagine what benefit anyone would get out of making someone’s dick grow when they lie, aside from the exact situation you’re currently in. You almost feel worse for the poor sap stuck with such a bizarre quirk than the Pro Hero currently lying between your legs.

A full body shiver runs through you, and every nerve suddenly becomes highly aware of the man beneath you. Every breath he takes moves his chest beneath your hands, and you can feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm. The tips of his fingers ghost against your thighs, not quite touching you, like he isn’t sure what to do with his hands anymore. And, suddenly, all you can think about are those hands grabbing you by the hips and grinding you down against him.

Unbeknownst to you, similar thoughts are wreaking havoc on Bakugou. From where you’re sitting on top of him, he has a perfect view of your legs and chest, and every time you shift, the movement goes straight to his cock. He almost hisses between his teeth as your thighs tighten around his hips, which only presses the growing bulge in his pants harder against you. His fingers twitch against your legs. It would be so easy for him to roll the two of you over, pin you beneath him, and show you exactly what you do to him. Fuck you senseless until you—

“What are you thinking right now?”

The question is like a hard slap across the face. His eyes snap from the apex of your legs to your face, caught red-handed. There’s no way for him to get out of this one without his dick giving him away or an actual slap across the face. He chooses his traitor dick. “That I want you to get the fuck off me.”

You look entirely unimpressed when his dick moves between your legs, growing larger in seconds. “Liar,” you deadpan. You drum your fingers against his chest, unintentionally matching the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Tell me the truth and maybe I’ll move.” Nevermind that he could definitely throw you across the room one handed if he really wanted to. Frankly, you’re a little surprised he hasn’t already, given your current situation.

Not that you want to move right now. You’re quite comfortable where you are.

Bakugou’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Those ruby eyes drag down your body slowly, shamelessly drinking in the sight of you sitting on top of him. An unexpected lick of run runs along your spine; your breath catches. “You look really fucking sexy right now,” he tells you, and his hands grab your thighs again.

It takes a second for you to register his confession, though you can’t say you’re that surprised. “Huh. Never pegged you as a guy who wanted someone on top.” You can work with that.

His brow furrows. “You know, you’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“I work in quirk registration for the police,” you remind him, shrugging. “This isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve come across.” Honestly, you aren’t even sure it makes the top ten, but you keep that to yourself. You get the feeling he’d take that as some kind of challenge, and you don’t need that kind of stress in your life. “How long has it been like this?”

A shrug. “Shit, I don’t know.” Bakugou shifts beneath you, craning his neck to look at the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes, maybe. Why?”

“Effects from quirks like this typically only last an hour or two,” you explain. “Maybe twenty-four hours at most, depending on how much training the user has.” Your head cocks to the side as you give him an entirely unsubtle once-over. “It sounds like he didn’t give you and Kirishima much trouble though. I’d put your... little problem at an hour and a half maximum. You should be fine.”

There’s a wicked look in his eyes. “Nothing little about it, babe.” His palms slide up your legs, rucking up your skirt even higher on his way to grab your hips. “Hour left, huh?” A low hum rumbles through his chest. “I can work with that.”

You freeze. “Katsuki, what are you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off with an irritated sigh, “I’ve liked you for a long time, so if you want to fuck right now, that’s fine with me.” Heartbreaking honesty shines in his eyes, only partially masked by a layer of annoyance and boredom, like he doesn’t care either way. The way his fingers dig into your hips tells a different story.

Your eyes widen at his crass confession, your lips parting as you stare down at Bakugou in shock. “Are you…” you hesitate, swallowing down the sudden lump in your throat as your fingers curl against his shirt. “Are you serious?”

Bakugou glares at you, but his faint blush gives him away. “You’re the one sitting on my magic cock, you tell me.”

You sit there for a good minute, just staring at him, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of any kind of response. Eventually, you settle on, “That is, by far, the worst declaration of love I’ve ever heard.”

If you thought he was glaring before, it has nothing on the look he levels you with now. “Who fucking said anything about loving you, dumbass?” he snaps, huffing, cheeks turning an even darker shade of pink. “Like hell I do!” He grits his teeth as his dick tingles.

“Yeah, well, your magic cock reveals your deceit,” you mock him. “You’re such an emotionally stunted pain in the ass, Katsuki!”

He opens his mouth—probably to start yelling about something—but you lurch forward and meet his mouth in a fierce kiss before he can say anything. He grunts in surprise and squeeze your hips, but kisses you back eagerly, immediately tilting his chin for a better angle. The hands that were on your hips don’t hesitate to move. One slides up your back to fist in your hair, pulling you closer as the other drops to your ass. A hard grope makes you gasp against his lips, your fingers clenching tighter in the front of his hero suit.

Before things can get too heavy, too fast, you pull back, leaving just an inch of space between your lips. He doesn’t let you go much further. “I like you, too,” you whisper against him. He stiffens as your fingers touch his bare chest where his hero suit doesn’t cover him.

His heart is pounding just as quickly as yours, and he’d never admit it, but he swears your little confession does something funny to his chest. All of it does. The heat of your breath. The gentle weight of your body on top of his. Something about you makes him feel inexplicably soft, and he wants to hate that feeling, but he still can’t lie to himself without his cock growing two sizes. And if he’s going to stuff you full of his cock, he wants it to be all him.

At least at first.

With the hand still tangled in your hair, Bakugou yanks you back down. Your lips mold against his perfectly, the space left between you nonexistent. When he kisses you it’s all teeth and tongue, and your lips part readily beneath his demanding touch. He makes a low sound of approval in the back of his throat, slotting his lips harder against yours. Using the hand cupping the back of your head, he adjusts you above him, tilting your chin until he finds a position he likes.

The dominating way he touches you makes you keen, and your quiet whimper is smothered by his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you. Your legs tremble on either side of his hips as the hand on your ass gropes you again. By now, your skirt is hiked halfway up your waist, and if anyone were to walk in they’d get a perfect view of your ass and the damp spot forming between your thighs.

You arch into his touch at the thought, moaning as his teeth tug at your lip.

By the time you pull away, you both have kiss-swollen lips.

When Bakugou recalls what you called him a moment ago, he chuckles, deep and throaty, and it sends a thrilled shiver up your spine. “I’ll show you a real pain in the ass later, sweetheart,” he promises, squeezing your ass cheek for good measure. The squeeze is followed by a sharp slap, and you lurch forward, a startled squeal slipping out of your mouth.

You glare down at him. Well, you try to. It’s a little hard to pretend to be mad at him when his hand comes up to rub the spot where he smacked you, which only presses your hips closer to his growing bulge. Your tone is dry when you say, “I’m sure you will.” And then, because he’s already propositioned you and has his hand on your ass, you grind yourself against his dick.

“Shit,” he grunts, grabbing your hips. His fingers bite into your skin, twitching like he doesn’t know if he wants to still you or shove you down on his cock. A slow exhale hisses through his teeth. “You tryin’ to be a cock tease?”

The satisfaction that bubbles up in you only feeds the damp heat between your legs. He’s hardly touched you, but you can already feel yourself getting wet just from the thought of him filling you. You brace yourself against him, palms pressed flat against his chest. “You want me to stop?” Purposefully fluttering your eyelashes at him, you slowly work your hand lower, fingers grazing over lean muscle until you stop at his waist, pressing down on his belt.

As your eyes start to follow the path of your hand, Bakugou reaches out and grabs your chin. A warning squeeze makes you mewl expectantly. “Keep talking, baby, and I'll put that mouth to better use.” The pad of his thumb traces your bottom lip. Before he can let go, you tilt your head into his touch, teeth barely grazing his finger as you nip at him. “Such a little brat,” he sneers.

You’re thrown off balance when he sits up. His abdominal muscles flex against your stomach as he crushes you against his chest, and your hands fly to his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. Bakugou kisses you again, lips hungry and demanding as they press against yours, and you give him complete control. He tilts your chin, pulls your hair, bites your lips, and every touch makes you feel hazy and warm.

Anticipation churns in your stomach. Your hands slide over his shoulders, looping around his neck. He grunts when your wrist brushes against the side of his neck, and when you card your fingers through his hair and tug, he lets out a sound that goes right to your core.

The hand on your ass gives you another sharp spank. The motion jerks your hips against his, and you grind down against the hard cock rubbing your inner thigh. His fingers knead your ass and the back of your thigh, groping and squeezing and helping your hips along as you rock languidly over his lap. Each roll of your hips has his cock dragging across your damp panties, the head kissing your clit through the layers of your clothes. You shudder, lost in the feeling.

You’re only half aware of him moving, not noticing until the hand that was in your hair slips beneath your shirt to palm your breast. An appreciative squeeze has you arching into him, hips stuttering against his. Bakugou nips at your bottom lip hard enough to make you whimper, and when he pulls away you’re sure it’s swollen and flushed from his treatment.

But he doesn’t leave you for long. You’re barely given a moment to breathe before his mouth is on your jaw, your cheek, your chin. Bakugou trails heated, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, only stopping when he finds a spot that has you lurching against him, a pretty little moan falling from your mouth. He laves attention to that spot, right over your racing pulse. Teeth dig into your sensitive neck, and your breath catches in your throat as he begins to suck, intent on leaving a mark. You don’t stop him as he works a hickey just below your jaw, eyes fluttering shut at the onslaught of sensation.

Before leaving that spot, he drags his tongue across your neck to soothe the bruise he’s left behind.

Desire curls in your chest as a thought comes to mind, and you’re too slow to stop it from spilling out. “I wanna touch you,” you choke out as his mouth trails lower. Bakugou pauses, lips hovering just shy of your throat. The heat of his breath fans your damp skin, sending little pinpricks of electricity all the way to where your hips are grinding against his. You swallow, one hand fisting in the back of his shirt as his thumb brushes against the lacy cup of your bra.

“Already are, baby,” he says, partly muffled by your neck as he ghosts his lips against you. “Grinding against my cock like a little slut. Gonna get yourself off for me just like that?” He’s hiding a smirk. It’s clear what you want by the way your hips roll against his faster, grinding down harder as teasing touches turn desperate, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you begging for his cock before he fucks you.

He ruts against you, alternating between squeezing your breast and ass.

“Bakugou!” You try to sound reprimanding, but his name comes out as a breathy whine. There’s no way for you to get your hand on him with the way he has you pressed flush against his chest. And he’s definitely not going to make things easy for you.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, the man beneath you laughs. “You want it that bad, you better take it yourself, sweetheart.”

Huffing, you try to put some space between your hips, but his grip is firm. Bakugou swats your ass when you try to move, and you whimper as it forces your hips harder against his. You try a second time, and he pinches your nipple through the flimsy cup of your bra. Your head falls back with a moan, giving him greater access to your throat, and he smirks as he bites down on your soft skin.

Fine. You can play this game, too.

With a sharp grind of your hips, you rub your clit against him just right. Your back arches. Your thighs tense around his hips. “Ground Zero,” comes out as a needy whine against his ear. You feel him tense beneath you, his grip faltering for just a second. That’s all you need.

The momentary distraction is all you need to slide back on his thighs, putting just enough space between your hips to grab his belt and grind the heel of your hand against the massive bulge straining against his pants. Even through his pants you can feel how thick and long he is, and your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking you senseless.

He grunts as you palm him, squeezing gently as you trace the outline of his cock. His mouth leaves your neck with a wet pop. “Shit,” Bakugou murmurs. Soft strands of his spiky hair tickle the side of your neck as he rests his head against you, reveling in the feel of your light touches.

Your fingers brush against the back of his neck, your palm grinding against him when his hips rock forward. Strong muscles flex beneath your thighs. Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow.

Unable to stop yourself, you duck your head, pressing your lips against the side of his neck. It’s hard to find an angle with the bracers around his neck, and your attention turns to the front of his throat instead. Bakugou groans as you kiss him, lovebites and lipstick stains left in the wake of your mouth. He lets you kiss and nip your way down to his collarbone.

Thank god for the low cut of his shirt, you think, biting down on his chest hard enough to leave a mark. At the same time, your fingers grasp at his belt, nearly snapping the buckle in your hurry to get your hand on him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware of him saying something—calling you needy or naughty, you aren’t sure which—but you don’t care as you finally get your hand in his pants and grab his dick.

“You’re so big,” you murmur, eyes widening. The tips of your fingers don’t touch as you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him languidly from base to tip. You can’t get a good look at him from your position, but you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft, and you bite your lip at the sheer girth of him. “Is this from the quirk?” you ask him, swirling your thumb over the tip before dragging your hand back down, giving him a firm squeeze. You lean back a little, wanting to look at him, but Bakugou lurches forward to get his mouth on you again.

He groans against your ear, pressing a harsh kiss against the side of your jaw. “All me, babe,” he tells you, smug. For once, you really can’t blame him for being cocky. “Fuck, that feels good.”

The way your soft hand slides against his shaft wrecks havoc on his brain, and Bakugou presses another heated kiss to your neck to smother a loud moan. He’s already painfully sensitive from having you hump his lap, and your tentative touch only makes him harder. And that damn quirk didn’t help at all. After over a half hour of that bullshit cock tease, he’s just aching to bury himself in your dripping pussy.

Your thumb traces the thick vein on the side of his cock, pressing against it gently before twisting your hand. The sudden change in angle and the way you squeeze him have a low sound tearing from his chest, and then your hand is being yanked out of his pants. Bakugou’s fingers clench around your wrist in a vice grip, and you wince at the mild sting.

“Get up,” he demands, nearly growling. His fingers are digging into your ass hard enough to leave faint bruises, but you don’t care. When you hesitate, he releases you only to slap the back of your thigh. “Now.”

You pussy clenches at the pain that quickly dissolves into pleasure. “What’s wrong, Katsuki,” you can’t help but tease, hoping to get a reaction out of him, “afraid you’ll cum too fast?”

He doesn’t spank you again, though his palm does press against your reddening ass cheek in a way that speaks of a warning. “Don’t make me tell you again, baby.”

It takes another second before you shift off his lap, your legs quivering as you stand. You almost consider ignoring the command. Almost. But it doesn’t take much for you to decide you’d rather see what he has planned for you.

Your thighs rub together as Bakugou rises from the floor in one fluid motion, years of training making him silent, almost catlike. He reaches for you as soon as he’s standing, towering over you, an imposing figure. The scattering of small marks on his throat makes you grin, but the smile is wiped from your face as he grabs your chin roughly between his fingers and forces you to meet his eyes.

Ruby red and blown wide with lust, the look in his sharp gaze makes your breathing hitch. A wet crackling sound leaves your mouth as your lips part for him. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. “Such a dirty fucking mouth,” he growls.

You stumble a little as he starts walking you backwards, not touching you aside from the firm grip he has on your jaw. You go willingly, eyes on his. Excitement has your stomach flipping, a nervous flutter in your belly, and you gasp when your back hits the side of his desk, the cold wood pressing against your skin where he’s tugged at the hem of your shirt.

Bakugou’s thumb delves past your lips, dipping into your wet mouth, and your lips wrap around him greedily. Sucking gently, your teeth press against his skin possessively, tongue laving attention to his thick digit. With his free hand, Bakugou grabs the front of your plain blouse and yanks it open, careful not to rip any of the buttons. You let your shirt fall to the floor, wriggling a little as it sticks around your elbows. He reaches up to palm your breast, humming in approval once he sees your pretty bra.

“Get on your knees, baby,” he tells you, pulling his thumb from your mouth and smearing your spit across your lips, watching them glisten. “I want to see your mouth on my cock.”

You do as you’re told, practically shaking with anticipation as you drop to your knees for him. Now that you’ve gotten a feel for his cock, you’re desperate to have him inside you. Your mouth. Your pussy. It doesn’t matter which. Any thoughts of playing coy or being a brat disappear into the back of your mind as he pins you with a harsh stare. Bakugou pets your hair, threading the soft strands through his fingers to hold you still.

You bite your lip as his free hand drops to his waist, Bakugou shoving his pants and boxers down just low enough for his cock to spring free. The size makes you swallow. He’s bigger than you thought. Thicker. And you remember how your hand couldn’t wrap all the way around him. Your thighs clench, rubbing together as a dull ache builds between your legs.

He doesn’t waste his time. Shifting forward, he palms himself, lazily stroking his cock with his own fingers, just out of your reach. When you try to lean forward, he pulls your hair, forcing you back again. “Such a little slut,” he murmurs, allowing the head of his cock to press against your wet lips, his hips slowly rocking back and forth. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, and he groans. “There you go,” he says, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face before he starts pushing his cock into your mouth.

You immediately close your lips around him, bobbing your head forward as much as his tight grip will let you. Bakugou feeds you his cock, sliding into your wet mouth slowly as you start to suck, letting you adjust to just how fucking thick he really is. His girth has your jaw stretched wide, forcing you to breathe slowly through your nose. You glance up at him.

“That’s it, angel,” he groans as you bob your head again, “suck my cock.” His hips rock forward in a shallow thrust; his eyes lock on your lips, stretched obscenely around his length. Wet trails of saliva stick to his cock as you pull back to swirl your tongue around the head.

Whimpering around him, you suck harder, swallowing around him, anything that might pull another filthy moan from his mouth. Your hands grab his thighs for balance, your fingers digging into his legs as you try to pull him closer.

You’re rewarded with a low moan rumbling from his chest. Bakugou’s eyes slip shut for a second, his head tilting back in raw pleasure. “Figures you'd be a perfect little cock sucker,” he says under his breath, almost too low for you to hear him. “I bet you want me to fuck your face, huh, baby?”

You settle for moaning instead of nodding, watching him through your eyelashes as he pants above you.

“Fuck.” A long, hissing exhale escapes through his teeth, and his hand tightens in your hair just a little bit as he watches you work his cock. You look so fucking pretty with your mouth wrapped around him, your lips slick with saliva as you take him deeper into your mouth. There are tears beading at the corners of your eyes. “Fuck,” he says again, “you feel so good.” He grunts. “How long have you been thinkin’ about sucking my cock, babe?”

You flush under his gaze, unable to answer with your mouth full of his dick, but the answer must be clear as day on your face. You don’t know what it is he’s thinking about, but you swear his cock gets bigger in your mouth, that strange quirk making him thicker so that you’re nearly choking on him.

Bakugou holds your head still as he starts to rock his hips; he moves slowly at first, his thrusts shallow and even, but he quickly picks up speed when you whine around his cock. It isn’t long before he’s fucking your mouth, thrusts as rough as you’d expect from someone like him. His cockhead brushes against the back of your throat, his hips stuttering as he holds you like that, your lips pressed nearly against the base of his cock.

Somehow, you manage to keep your eyes on him. You force your throat to relax and swallow around him. His eyes almost roll back at the sensation, but he keeps his ruby gaze locked on you, watching how well you take him. He can only imagine how good you’re going to take his cock, too. He speeds up again, groaning as the pressure in his gut starts to build.

His cock pulls from your mouth with a wet sound, and you cough, sucking in greedy mouthfuls of air. Bakugou drags you off the floor, and your startled gasp is cut off by his hand wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, unfortunately, just holds his palm there. The next thing you know, you’re being shoved against the nearest wall, your cheek pressed to the chilly surface as Bakugou all but rips off your skirt, leaving you in just your underwear and shoes.

The fabric pools on the floor in a crumpled heap, and Bakugou kicks it aside in order to spread your legs from behind. You brace your hands against the wall, ass out, and he’s on you in a second.

Teasing is thrown out the window as he finally—finally—touches you. One of his hands reaches around you to grope your chest, palming your breast roughly before shoving the cup of your bra aside to tweak and pinch your nipple. You’re a panting, whining mess by the time he gets his hand between your legs. Two thick fingers drag over the crotch of your panties, and he actually laughs when he feels how wet you are. “Shit, you get that horny just from sucking my cock?”

Blearily, you nod, pressing your pussy closer to his hand. Bakugou shoves your panties to the side, fingers skimming through your wetness before rolling over your clit. You nearly sob at how good it feels to have him touch you. It’s like his hands were meant to please you, big and rough, his calloused fingers providing the perfect amount of friction. Each precise stroke of his fingers feeds the knot in your belly, keeping you right on the edge of coming undone.

“You’re gonna feel so fucking good on my cock,” he tells you removing his fingers from your clit to squeeze your ass. His cock quickly replaces his hand between your thighs, his thick length rubbing against your slick pussy, the head bumping against your clit with every stroke. Bakugou lets go of your breast; his hand slaps against the wall beside your head for balance. “Pretty cunt squeezing around me. That what you want?”

“Please. Oh, please,” you mumble. Anything to get him inside you. It almost hurts how turned on you are right now. From the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the hem of his shirt, about to pull it off. “Don’t!”

Bakugou goes absolutely still at your sharp cry. The only movement is his eyes snapping up to meet yours, flooded with concern as he checks to see if he’s hurting you.

But you whimper, trying to shove yourself back on his cock. “Don’t take it off,” you clarify breathlessly, legs quivering with the effort of holding yourself up.

The concern bleeds from his eyes, and they’re taken over by something dark and hungry instead as he realizes what you mean. He thrusts his cock between your thighs, your slick covering his cock as it drips from you. Your eyes flutter as he pressed against your clit again. “Don’t take what off?” He wants to hear you say it.

And you’re so painfully aroused that the words come spilling out of your mouth before you can stop him. “Your costume,” you choke out around a loud moan. “I want you to fuck me while you’re wearing your costume.” That’s one dirty little fantasy you’ve had for a while, maybe ever since you met him. The thought of him fucking you while he’s still in costume is almost too much, but god do you want it badly.

“That so?” he drawls. His hand drops from his shirt back to your ass cheek, groping you before spreading you from behind. He takes a step back, ignoring your whine, and whistles when he gets a good look at your dripping slit. Bakugou tugs your hips back, forcing your back to arch for him. “What a naughty little slut. You got a thing for heroes, baby?”

Just you, you think, but all you can do is moan his name. “Bakugou.”

You cry out as he slaps your ass. “No, no, no,” he repremends. “That's not what you call me.”

“Katsuki, please,” you manage to whine around a harsh swallow.

He spanks you again. “Come on, angel, you know what to say.” It takes a second for it to click, but when it does you blush. “Fuck, look how wet you are.” He chuckles as he looks at your glistening thighs. Another love tap lands on your reddening ass. “You like it when I spank you?”

“Yes,” you mewl.

He spreads your legs open wider. “Yes, what?”

You take a deep, shuddering breath, cheek pressed against the wall in front of you. “Yes, Ground Zero.” Your tongue runs across your bottom lip. “Sir,” you tack on.

“Good girl.”

There’s no warning as he adjusts himself behind you, cock slamming into you hard enough to steal your breath. There’s no resistance, you're so wet. You pussy clenches around him, your walls sucking him in deeper. That’s all it takes for an orgasm to rip through you, the knot in your belly snapping so fast that all you can do is let out a silent scream as you slump forward against the wall.

Bakugou is equal parts shocked and amused as you try to milk his cock, and he grits his teeth as his dick twitches inside of you, almost pulling him over with you. “Fuck,” he laughs. “You cum just from me filling you up?” You whimper and nod. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight.”

He presses you closer to the wall, and his arm slips beneath your knee, lifting your leg and holding you open. Your thigh burns from the stretch. His cock drags along your walls slowly before, only the tip left inside before he thrusts back into you, reaching deeper.

He picks up a steady pace, slamming into you over and over. You’re already so sensitive from your first orgasm, and little gasps and whines keep falling from your mouth with every brutal thrust as Bakugou finds your sweet spot, hitting it perfectly as he pounds you. He’s thick and hard inside you, even bigger than he was in your mouth, and your eyes widen when you realize he’s doing it on purpose. “How big can you get?” you gasp, moaning as his cock expands inside you, filling you up completely.

“As big as you fucking want me,” he snarls back, fucking you faster, hiking your leg up higher.

All you can do is hold on and take it.

You don’t know how much time passes, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and his harsh panting against your ear. Sweat drips down your back where he’s sliding over you, and his fingers bite into your thigh as he almost loses his grip. “You know whose office is on the other side of this wall?” he asks suddenly. “Answer me, baby!” A particularly harsh thrust follows the demand.

“No, Sir,” you pant.

“Fucking Deku.” He grits his teeth as that now familiar tingle goes right to his cock, but you don’t seem to notice the lie. “You think he’s in there right now? His desk is right on the other side.” You pussy squeezes around him, and Bakugou moans against the side of your neck. “I bet he can hear you in here panting like a whore as I fuck your slutty little cunt.”

Your back arches into him, the revelation reigniting the fire he lit inside you. That knot comes back, just as tight as before, and you tremble as you realize he’s going to make you cum again. “Ground Zero,” you whine.

He lets go of your thigh, but keeps your knee hooked around his elbow. His hand snakes around your hips to rub your clit, and you jerk against him. “He’s got some new intern, too. Some little high school brat.” A high-pitched, needy sound falls from your mouth. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you moan my name.” He rolls your clit harder between his fingers, and the heat rolling from him is so sweltering that it’s hard to breathe. “Shit, you’re gonna be filling this kid’s fantasies for weeks. He’s probably gettin’ off to you right now.” His cock gets bigger inside you; his hips grind against you harder. “But your pussy’s mine, angel. Got that?”

You nod, delirious.

And, fuck, he just doesn’t stop talking. “You gonna cum?” he asks, fingers moving faster over your clit. “Gonna cum from thinking about Deku and his intern listening to me fuck you?” You shudder and gasp, shoving yourself back on his cock in a weak attempt to match his brutal pace. “That’s it, baby, cum on my fat cock. Let everyone know who’s making you feel so good. I wanna hear you scream so fucking loud that everyone in this goddamn building knows my name.”

Bakugou pinches your clit. Your eyes slam shut, body locking up as he throws you into another powerful climax. “Katsuki!” you shriek, his name ripping from your throat in a raw scream.

This time, he doesn’t hold himself back. A series of harsh thrusts drag out your orgasm until you’re sobbing, a few tears slipping out and rolling down your cheeks. His cock twitches, swelling, and he shoves inside of you as deep as he can go before cumming inside you, his thick seed filling you up and dripping down your thigh.

He doesn’t pull out, leaning his head against your shoulder as you both try and catch your breath. Bliss washes over you as he kisses your neck, mumbling a string of garbled praises against your ear.

You blush when something he said hits you full force, finally able to process it now that he’s not fucking you senseless. “Midoriya,” you gasp, trying to crane your head around to look at him.

Bakugou presses more of his weight against your back, slowly lowering your leg back to the floor. His hands grasp your hips when your legs threaten to collapse beneath you. “Bastards office is on the other wall,” he says, calming you down. “‘Sides, it’s his day off.”

Relief floods through you. “You have absolutely no filter, do you?”

He shrugs, kissing across your cheek. “I don’t see you complainin’.”

You laugh a little breathlessly. “You made me cum twice,” you remind him. “I don’t give a shit what you were saying.” You shift in his embrace, wincing as his cock moves inside you. Fuck, you’re sensitive.

He stills you. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks. When he sees your obviously confused look, he gives you a shallow thrust, his cock still hard inside you. “Oh, angel, we’ve still got thirty minutes, right? We’re just getting started.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnhabookclub #mha #bnha #bnha smut

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

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Hi. I’m curious. What did you mean by “women who read fiction might get Bad Ideas!!!” has just reached its latest and stupidest form via tumblr purity culture.? I haven’t seen any of this but I’m new to tumblr.

Oh man. You really want to get me into trouble on, like, my first day back, don’t you?

Pretty much all of this has been explained elsewhere by people much smarter than me, so this isn’t necessarily going to say anything new, but I’ll do my best to synthesize and summarize it. As ever, it comes with the caveat that it is my personal interpretation, and is not intended as the be-all, end-all. You’ll definitely run across it if you spend any time on Tumblr (or social media in general, including Twitter, and any other fandom-related spaces). This will get long.

In short: in the nineteenth century, when Gothic/romantic literature became popular and women were increasingly able to read these kinds of novels for fun, there was an attendant moral panic over whether they, with their weak female brains, would be able to distinguish fiction from reality, and that they might start making immoral or inappropriate choices in their real life as a result. Obviously, there was a huge sexist and misogynistic component to this, and it would be nice to write it off entirely as just hysterical Victorian pearl-clutching, but that feeds into the “lol people in the past were all much stupider than we are today” kind of historical fallacy that I often and vigorously shut down. (Honestly, I’m not sure how anyone can ever write the “omg medieval people believed such weird things about medicine!” nonsense again after what we’ve gone through with COVID, but that is a whole other rant.) The thinking ran that women shouldn’t read novels for fear of corrupting their impressionable brains, or if they had to read novels at all, they should only be the Right Ones: i.e., those that came with a side of heavy-handed and explicit moralizing so that they wouldn’t be tempted to transgress. Of course, books trying to hammer their readers over the head with their Moral Point aren’t often much fun to read, and that’s not the point of fiction anyway. Or at least, it shouldn’t be.

Fast-forward to today, and the entire generation of young, otherwise well-meaning people who have come to believe that being a moral person involves only consuming the “right” kind of fictional content, and being outrageously mean to strangers on the internet who do not agree with that choice. There are a lot of factors contributing to this. First, the advent of social media and being subject to the judgment of people across the world at all times has made it imperative that you demonstrate the “right” opinions to fit in with your peer-group, and on fandom websites, that often falls into a twisted, hyper-critical, so-called “progressivism” that diligently knows all the social justice buzzwords, but has trouble applying them in nuance, context, and complicated real life. To some extent, this obviously is not a bad thing. People need to be critical of the media they engage with, to know what narratives the creator(s) are promoting, the tropes they are using, the conclusions that they are supporting, and to be able to recognize and push back against genuinely harmful content when it is produced – and this distinction is critical – by professional mainstream creators. Amateur, individual fan content is another kettle of fish. There is a difference between critiquing a professional creator (though social media has also made it incredibly easy to atrociously abuse them) and attacking your fellow fan and peer, who is on the exact same footing as you as a consumer of that content.

Obviously, again, this doesn’t mean that you can’t call out people who are engaging in actually toxic or abusive behavior, fans or otherwise. But certain segments of Tumblr culture have drained both those words (along with “gaslighting”) of almost all critical meaning, until they’re applied indiscriminately to “any fictional content that I don’t like, don’t agree with, or which doesn’t seem to model healthy behavior in real life” and “anyone who likes or engages with this content.” Somewhere along the line, a reactionary mindset has been formed in which the only fictional narratives or relationships are those which would be “acceptable” in real life, to which I say…. what? If I only wanted real life, I would watch the news and only read non-fiction. Once again, the underlying fear, even if it’s framed in different terms, is that the people (often women) enjoying this content can’t be trusted to tell the difference between fiction and reality, and if they like “problematic” fictional content, they will proceed to seek it out in their real life and personal relationships. And this is just… not true.

As I said above, critical media studies and thoughtful consumption of entertainment are both great things! There have been some great metas written on, say, the Marvel Cinematic Universe and how it is increasingly relying on villains who have outwardly admirable motives (see: the Flag Smashers in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier) who are then stigmatized by their anti-social, violent behavior and attacks on innocent people, which is bad even as the heroes also rely on violence to achieve their ends. This is a clever way to acknowledge social anxieties – to say that people who identify with the Flag Smashers are right, to an extent, but then the instant they cross the line into violence, they’re upsetting the status quo and need to be put down by the heroes. I watched TFATWS and obviously enjoyed it. I have gone on a Marvel re-watching binge recently as well. I like the MCU! I like the characters and the madcap sci-fi adventures! But I can also recognize it as a flawed piece of media that I don’t have to accept whole-cloth, and to be able to criticize some of the ancillary messages that come with it. It doesn’t have to be black and white.

When it comes to shipping, moreover, the toxic culture of “my ship is better than your ship because it’s Better in Real Life” ™ is both well-known and in my opinion, exhausting and pointless. As also noted, the whole point of fiction is that it allows us to create and experience realities that we don’t always want in real life. I certainly enjoy plenty of things in fiction that I would definitely not want in reality: apocalyptic space operas, violent adventures, and yes, garbage men. A large number of my ships over the years have been labeled “unhealthy” for one reason or another, presumably because they don’t adhere to the stereotype of the coffee-shop AU where there’s no tension and nobody ever makes mistakes or is allowed to have serious flaws. And I’m not even bagging on coffee-shop AUs! Some people want to remove characters from a violent situation and give them that fluff and release from the nonstop trauma that TV writers merrily inflict on them without ever thinking about the consequences. Fanfiction often focuses on the psychology and healing of characters who have been through too much, and since that’s something we can all relate to right now, it’s a very powerful exercise. As a transformative and interpretive tool, fanfic is pretty awesome.

The problem, again, comes when people think that fic/fandom can only be used in this way, and that going the other direction, and exploring darker or complicated or messy dynamics and relationships, is morally bad. As has been said before: shipping is not activism. You don’t get brownie points for only having “healthy” ships (and just my personal opinion as a queer person, these often tend to be heterosexual white ships engaging in notably heteronormative behavior) and only supporting behavior in fiction that you think is acceptable in real life. As we’ve said, there is a systematic problem in identifying what that is. Ironically, for people worried about Women Getting Ideas by confusing fiction and reality, they’re doing the same thing, and treating fiction like reality. Fiction is fiction. Nobody actually dies. Nobody actually gets hurt. These people are not real. We need to normalize the idea of characters as figments of a creator’s imagination, not actual people with their own agency. They exist as they are written, and by the choice of people whose motives can be scrutinized and questioned, but they themselves are not real. Nor do characters reflect the author’s personal views. Period.

This feeds into the fact that the internet, and fandom culture, is not intended as a “safe space” in the sense that no questionable or triggering content can ever be posted. Archive of Our Own, with its reams of scrupulous tagging and requests for you to explicitly click and confirm that you are of age to see M or E-rated content, is a constant target of the purity cultists for hosting fictional material that they see as “immoral.” But it repeatedly, unmistakably, directly asks you for your consent to see this material, and if you then act unfairly victimized, well… that’s on you. You agreed to look at this, and there are very few cases where you didn’t know what it entailed. Fandom involves adults creating contents for adults, and while teenagers and younger people can and do participate, they need to understand this fact, rather than expecting everything to be a PG Disney movie.

When I do write my “dark” ships with garbage men, moreover, they always involve a lot of the man being an idiot, being bluntly called out for an idiot, and learning healthier patterns of behavior, which is one of the fundamental patterns of romance novels. But they also involve an element of the woman realizing that societal standards are, in fact, bullshit, and she can go feral every so often, as a treat. But even if I wrote them another way, that would still be okay! There are plenty of ships and dynamics that I don’t care for and don’t express in my fic and fandom writing, but that doesn’t mean I seek out the people who do like them and reprimand them for it. I know plenty of people who use fiction, including dark fiction, in a cathartic way to process real-life trauma, and that’s exactly the role – one of them, at least – that fiction needs to be able to fulfill. It would be terribly boring and limited if we were only ever allowed to write about Real Life and nothing else. It needs to be complicated, dark, escapist, unreal, twisted, and whatever else. This means absolutely zilch about what the consumers of this fiction believe, act, or do in their real lives.

Once more, I do note the misogyny underlying this. Nobody, after all, seems to care what kind of books or fictional narratives men read, and there’s no reflection on whether this is teaching them unhealthy patterns of behavior, or whether it predicts how they’ll act in real life. (There was some of that with the “do video games cause mass shootings?”, but it was a straw man to distract from the actual issues of toxic masculinity and gun culture.) Certain kinds of fiction, especially historical fiction, romance novels, and fanfic, are intensely gendered and viewed as being “women’s fiction” and therefore hyper-criticized, while nobody’s asking if all the macho-man potboiler military-intrigue tough-guy stereotypical “men’s fiction” is teaching them bad things. So the panic about whether your average woman on the internet is reading dark fanfic with an Unhealthy Ship (zomgz) is, in my opinion, misguided at best, and actively destructive at worst.

#long post #anonymous #ask

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Everybody Talks Too Much (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Mute!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence Summary: Whenever Cassandra gets angry, no one wants to deal with her. Well, no one but you, that is. Thankfully, the middle child appreciates your company... not that she'd ever admit it. Notes: Another self-indulgent fic with a selectively mute reader. This one's a lil different. Sections in italic are mostly indications that the reader is miming actions in order to communicate, though there are a few internal thoughts that are marked as such. Unlike the past two I've done, this takes place pre-relationship, so there's some mutual pining of sorts. I think that's the word.

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Among the many servants of Castle Dimitrescu, there were a number of secret rules to be followed. Guidelines that were never written down, only spoken in hushed whispers, for specific (and dangerous) circumstances. Most could be divided into one of two categories: 1, how to reduce the chances of a Lady of the house killing someone. 2, how to make sure that if they kill someone, it will not be you. Of these rules, there was one that you knew best of all, despite never having been told it. Why? Because you have observed it time and time again. After all, the rule revolved around you. To put it plainly… If Cassandra Dimitrescu was in an awful mood, but had yet to draw blood, send in the mute.

Even now, as you rushed down a corridor, you did not know why this rule was in place. You simply knew that you had been summoned countless times by frantic maidens, to go serve their volatile mistress. Admittedly you did understand their eagerness to thrust the task upon someone else. Cassandra was often considered the deadliest of the Dimitrescu daughters, for she was the quickest to anger, the one with the deepest bloodlust, and took the longest to calm down. Personally, you disagreed, believing that it wasn’t terribly hard to know what she did and did not like. All it took was some observation. It was Daniela who scared you, seeing as she was unpredictable. She didn’t even need to be in a bad mood to want to kill you.

Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean that you saw no danger in working with Cassandra. In fact, you saw a fair bit, such as now: Right as you round the corner, a shiny object hurls past your head, embedding itself into the wall. Had you been walking ever so slightly faster… Well, you preferred not to dwell on such things, especially not when the one who threw the thing was still nearby. Based on the howling laughter and swarm of insects that moves around you, the intended target was Lady Daniela. Across the room is the markswoman herself; Cassandra stood tall, huffing in anger, staring at the spot her sister had just vacated from.

“Damn it!” She yelled, stomping her foot as if the resulting shockwave might do what her weapon had not. Oddly amused, you’re quick to remove the sickle from the wall, careful as to not damage it. It’s a tad dirty, but nothing you can’t fix with your handy pocket cloth. Cleaning as you walk, you slowly move towards your employer, not even bothering to spare her a glance. After all, you had your own rules for dealing with her.

(1: Avoid eye contact for at least one minute after an outburst.)

By the time you make it to Cassandra, the minute has come and gone, allowing you to ever-so politely look her in the eyes when you return her blade. She scoffs, then practically rips the sickle from your hands. This was your job, however, so you made no complaints. Not that you could, at least not verbally. Instead, you gave a short bow of acknowledgement. Afterwards you stood still, awaiting either instructions or a dismissal. Neither came.

“I can’t believe that little shit tried to take my favorite dagger and thought she could get away with it! Agh, the nerve of her! Can you believe this?” Cassandra snapped, turning to you as if you might agree with her. Nod, simple yet effective. “At least you know how to handle a blade. Damn Daniela is lucky she didn’t get any scratches on mine.” Then she pulls the knife in question from its place on her belt, letting it gleam in the light. A soft exhale, head tipping to the side, wow is it pretty. So is the one holding it. Your mind wanders but your gaze does not. Always polite, always ready to serve.

(2: Do not get distracted; she is no patient lover, rather a demanding boss.)

“Cassandra! What was all that noise a minute ago?” Someone called, interrupting your ‘conversation’. The speaker soon appears, being none other than Lady Bela, the most reasonable of the castle residents. Though that meant little, considering the nature of her family. As if to prove your point, Cassandra merely rolls her eyes in reply, refusing to divulge the truth. And so Bela turned her gaze to you, perking a brow. “Feeling up to talking today?” She asked, already knowing the answer. Of course, your hands are already moving, not even waiting for her to finish speaking. This is a game you know intimately.

A hand goes to your belt, moving to pull a nonexistent blade from its sheath. Raising it, moving it forward then back several times, launching it towards the wall- towards the hole left behind. Then shifting, waving your hand in front of your face while exhaling a sharp breath. Flinching. An exaggerated gulp, pretending to check if your nose is still attached, sighing in relief. Lastly, an inclination of your head towards the culprit. Cassandra.

“I was aiming for Daniela. Not that it matters, nobody got hurt,” she stated, confident. Both hands clasped together, then tapping the palms together, mimicking a heartbeat at a reasonable pace. Suddenly a stomp. The beating stops, and you hold your hands next to your ear, as if listening for signs of life. Pause. Three seconds. Worried expression, eyes wide. Finally, fast as a gunshot, the heart beats again, wildly. At this, Bela shoots her sister a look of doubt, as well as judgement. Hoping to change the subject, Cassandra looks to you. “What are you doing here anyway?”

Rubbing your chin, thinking. Squinting for effect. Ah, got it! Both hands go to your sides, lifting the imaginary hem of a dress you aren’t wearing. Waltzing forward, yet in place, with the poise expected of a professional maid. Then the focus shifts to your face. Fear. A silent scream, a hand at your forehead, feeling like you… might… faint. Falling backwards, making a step at the very last second to prevent a real collapse. End scene.

“Someone was scared?” Bela asked, sounding uncharacteristically unsure of herself. When you nod, she does as well, considering the implications. “Why would they send you?”

“I hardly care why, I just want to know who so I can kick their ass,” Cassandra interjects, taking a step closer to you. All you do in response is shrug. Unsurprisingly this is not enough to please her, and before you know it she’s wrapped a hand around your throat. “Give. Me. A. Name. Now.” A perked brow. Thoughts practically telegraphed. ‘What do you expect?’ Opening your mouth, slightly, then wide, back to almost closed. No sound comes out. Obviously. It’s not like you wanted to break your own rule, but in this case you had no choice.

(3: Give her whatever she wants, consequences be damned.)

Luckily for you, Bela acts as a foil to Cassandra, there to smooth the seas. Moving behind you, she reaches into your back pocket and retrieves the notepad you keep there. Then she’s handing it to you while making eye contact with her sister. Cassandra promptly releases you, though she’s clearly not pleased, going so far as to push you away in one last act of anger. Internally you roll your eyes. On the outside, however, you quickly write down everything you know… which isn’t much.

“I don’t remember who it was. A lot of people have asked. This happens a lot.” Then you hand the paper to Bela, who soon looks back up at you in confusion. Too antsy to wait for her own turn, Cassandra yoinks the notepad from her sister’s hands, reading it over several times before reacting.

“What the fuck? Why would they send you to me because somebody pissed their pants in fear? I’m going to kill someone. Ugh, I don’t- this doesn’t make any goddamn sense,” Cassandra ranted, pacing back and forth, looking like she wanted to destroy something immediately. To your surprise, Bela doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned. If anything, she looks amused, and smiles when the two of you make eye contact. Something tells you that she knows something that you don’t. Before you can react, she quietly retrieves your notepad and returns it to you. Then she pauses, thinking, eying you with curiosity.

“Why don’t you go for now? See if anyone thanks you for stepping in, hmm?” She suggested, tone implying that this was absolutely about something else entirely. Still, you don’t care to disobey, and so you bid the two of them farewell with a deep bow. As you leave, you can almost make out part of what they say next. But you’re certain that you must have heard incorrectly. “Showing your favoritism a little too much, sister? If even the servants can see it-” the rest of the sentence is cut off by angry muttering from Cassandra. After that you’re too far away to hear anymore. What a strange day...

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“Hey, you know where Lady Cassandra’s room is, right?” Ygritte asked, casually, definitely not having just been told by someone else that you were the solution to her problem. Pretending that you were unaware of this, you give her a smile and a nod. Later, behind her back, you will mentally add her to your list of people to watch out for. Maybe even decide to refuse to share your biscuits with her. In the meantime, you pretend that you don’t mind whatever task she’s about to dump on you. “Can you bring these books to her? I really have to get back to the kitchen soon, and that’s in the opposite direction…”

Technically true. Something told you that the real problem was that Cassandra had been extra loud the past few days. Regardless, you accept the books from her, leaving before she even finishes thanking you. Why do people do this? I don’t get it, you think. It’s like they think I’m immune to her rage. If that were true, I’d gladly throw myself between her and others. But no, that’s not the case. Hmmph, if only they saw my scars. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you keep walking, subconsciously rubbing the spot on your arm where Cassandra had cut you. Well, the worst spot. Being pain tolerant had made her take interest in you, during your first few weeks, but it’s what allowed you to learn her rules. Your rules, really.

Knock. Knock. A pause… three more, much softer. The door swings open, revealing your Lady, whose eyes widen at the sight of you. Tipping your hat (which you are not wearing), you greet her, forcing another smile. Then you present the books, free hand gesturing with a spiral motion towards them. She doesn’t respond. No, wait, she glances at the door hinges, considering closing the door in your face. Now both of you are staring at each other, daring the other to move.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she finally said. There’s a gruffness to her voice that you hadn’t expected. It’s unlike her usual tone, less angry, more tired. Were those bags under her eyes?... No, just smudged makeup. “Don’t just stand there- tell me why you’re here.” Again, you gesture to the books, extending your hands further towards her. This time she takes a half-step backwards to avoid you. Peculiar. “Someone else was supposed to bring them, dipshit. Fucking hell, why can’t anyone around here do their damn jobs?” At last, she takes the books from you, carrying them deeper into your room. Though she does not close the door, you assume that your job is done. Or maybe you simply do not wish to deal with a Cassandra who’s frustrated by your specific presence. Either way, it breaks one of your rules, though you do not remember until it is too late.

(4: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family.)

“Where the hell are you going?” The sound of buzzing flies, a blur of motion around you, then the form of Cassandra solidifying in front of you. One of her hands is raised, pressing against the center of your chest. She pushes you, hard, making you stumble backwards into her room. Next thing you know you’ve crashed onto her floor. A tad stunned, you bring a hand up to hold your head, blinking rapidly for a few seconds. There’s the sound of a door closing, and then someone’s trying to help you stand. “I didn’t say you could leave yet. Now c’mon, I’ve got stuff for you to do.” Then she’s guiding you to her bed, making you sit down on the end. Panicked thoughts race through your mind one after another. What exactly was she intending? Thankfully you don’t have to wait long to find out. “Read through these, and-” a pause, like she hadn’t known what she was going to say until she was already speaking- “take notes. Make a summary of the bookmarked sections, or whatever.” Handing you a couple books (neither of which being ones you had just brought to her), she sits on the other side of the bed, refusing to look at you. She does, however, say one last thing, voice barely above a whisper. “Just stay for a while, okay?”

Inside your head, you make a mental note to amend your list of rules.

(4.b: Do not leave until dismissed by a member of the family. If Cassandra asks you to stay, you stay, no matter what. It’s worth it.)

#cassandra dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #stayed up to write this #totes worth it

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