#I had forgotten about the ass violating

[power-chords]

British and Australian audiences—to name only two English-speaking markets for the American mass media—are in the position of merely advanced students. For them a line like this might as well have a subtitle. I myself, when I first saw Heat in 1996, had been absorbing the American mass media for fifty years at least. I had seen hundreds of cop shows in which the words “violate” and “parole” had been used in close connection. But when I heard “violate” without “parole” I had to stop and think—not an activity that Heat otherwise encourages. It is a highly enjoyable movie. (I mean as opposed to a lowly enjoyable movie like Where Eagles Dare, in which the fun comes from the stupidity.) Michael Mann’s movies are well planned and look very good. His years in the glossy sweatshop of Miami Vice gave him a feeling for compressed narrative and a mastery of pastel composition transferable to any setting, including the morgue. Both qualities are well on display in Mann’s Manhunter, the first and by far the most interesting film that draws on the dubious charm of the serial killer Hannibal Lecter. Mann is a director who can make even cannibalism into a fashion statement. With Heat he attained his apotheosis. Unlimited mayhem never looked so balletic. The gun battles are sensational: rather more sensational, one is bound to reflect, than any gun battle could ever be in real life, where a flak jacket would not be enough to protect Al Pacino’s head if even one bank robber were shooting at him with a pistol. In the film, Val Kilmer and Robert De Niro both shoot at him for minutes on end with automatic weapons. Fusillades of bullets swerve around his head by magic. In real life he would have only his admittedly formidable hairpiece to keep the hurtling slugs out of his brain. But the director isn’t transcribing life, he is choreographing its myths, and especially the myths of male conflict: Mann is a mano a mano man. He thinks in battles. In a Mann film, even when the hero is alone on screen with a telephone, he battles with the telephone.

In Heat, the most sensational battle of all is the hamming contest in the coffee shop between Pacino and De Niro. These two actors have never faced each other on screen before. Each actor knows that this is the shoot-out the audience has been looking forward to for years. Each actor fights with his best weapons. Al Pacino’s standard weapon is to SHOUT AT RANDOM. Elsewhere in the movie he employs it freely, but in this key scene he abandons it. Robert De Niro’s standard weapon is to repeat a line half a dozen times with slight variations of emphasis. “Clean up and go home,” he tells Ashley Judd. “Clean up and go home.” Hypnotized by this mantra, Ashley Judd cleans up and goes home to Val Kilmer, so thoroughly has her will been sapped. De Niro’s power of repetition is a tried and tested standard weapon. A standard weapon, tried and tested, is what it is. Tried and tested. Tried and tested. But in this scene he abandons it.

In the coffee shop, the two knights of the screen have taken off their helmets and laid aside the axe and mace. They have upgraded their weaponry. They are about to go nuclear. They will fight in close-up. Pacino fights with ruminative pauses and a new, noiseless smacking of the lips: a deadly weapon. De Niro fights with a new pout. It is not as extreme as Val Kilmer’s pout, but Val Kilmer was born pouting, like June Allyson: Val Kilmer can’t not pout. De Niro’s new pout is a vestigial, almost subcutaneous pout, a pout more thought than deed. He is proving that he can pout without moving his lips. He also looks sideways without moving his head. He looks sideways only with his eyes: a new subtlety. (All modern screen actors look sideways as much as possible while speaking. There is one called Michael Madsen who will face away from the camera while speaking, giving you a close-up of the back of his head.) Gradually you realize that Pacino and De Niro, like the characters they are playing, will both walk away from this battle. The fix is in. The two characters they are playing respect each other. But the characters could not possibly respect each other as much as the actors playing them respect each other.

Pacino and De Niro have each grown used, during a long career, to acting any interlocutor off the screen. They have met at last only on the tacit understanding that they will act each other on to the screen. Exactly measured by the number of close-ups, their mutual respect will be made exhaustively manifest. The outcome will be a draw. But they have to make it look good. Making it look good, indeed, is the only reason for doing it. Making it sound good is a secondary consideration. To prove this, each man reaches for the deadliest weapon of all: silence. Personally I find this a relief from the dialogue, which isn’t bad, but is not very good. In the age of The Big Sleep and The Maltese Falcon, a similar exchange would have been over and done with in a minute at most, with each actor delivering a line memorable forever. But that was then, and this is now. Now the actor does not deliver lines. He delivers himself, usually like a truck full of eggs being unloaded one by one. Heat has a structure, and each of its carefully assembled component scenes has a mood. What it lacks is lines, and why not? It is after something bigger than verbal quotability. But in that case, why throw in a line like “Let’s violate his ass”? The only conclusion you can reach is that nobody knew it was difficult.

#dfgdfhgaFGSDJKFGSDHJFGS #this is genius #I had forgotten about the ass violating #clive james #notes for the michael mannzine

[goosegoblin]

no bitch has ever gone as hard as commander wake, actually. like:

take over and unite a disorganised insurgency group to become one of the greatest threats ever presented to an immortal god

learn about, identify, locate and somehow KILL??? a monster that multiple lyctors have died trying to kill, then make said monster's body into weaponry for better god-killing abilities

identify the saint of duty and make him violate his duty, sexual-style. it's okay, because the 'duty' really refers to his cavalier, who you are also dating. succesfully two-time two people who are sharing a body. how do you even do this.

connect with even more lyctors and, rather than getting killed on sight, agree to help kill the emperor. this part contains child murder but okay!

when the relevant material dies, who cares? you've got a perfectly good womb, a syringe and seemingly immortal sperm!

inseminate yourself with god's semen ???

succesfully evade the saint of duty for the duration of your pregnancy. when cornered, succesfully a) get to the right place b) induce labour and c) deliver your child

get kicked out an airlock. this one is a bummer. reroute your oxygen to your child, which would be a sweet gesture if it wasn't specifically so your child can be killed at a more useful time

refuse all attempts by ninth house spirit-callers, other than yelling the name of the lyctor that killed you. 'sacred forgotten names' my ass

like. that's already genuinely insane behaviour! and that's only stuff that happens before book one!

because then your soul is so bitter and determined and angry that you somehow hold onto your bones for a VERY long time and you don't go insane, and then you end up in a sword for literal decades and you still don't go insane, and then some mega necromancer gets hold of The Sword With You In It and you hate her so much you can make her projectile vomit just by being near you- and, again, you are a ghost inside a sword at this stage-

also you simultaneously haunt the necromancer's brain and fuck up her attempts to rewrite history by being like 'what if i was there and also i had a gun. what if that.' and you're so hard to kill that they have to summon the ghost of the coolest bestest big boy soldier who ever lived just to try and step to you.

and also you got the necro to stab a body so you can puppet the corpse around a spaceship, which you use mostly to try and kill lyctors (and, also, to try and fuck)

also, you canonically named yourself after 'lose yourself' by eminem.

#the locked tomb #commander wake #awake remembrance of these valiant dead #i think about her all the time! all the time! #a superhuman level of grit and determination

[yoke9494]

*Originally written for the fic Songbird. (Over and done with) *Teen Nanami*

*Geto had planted a big smooth on you after you were stolen and then brought back after a mission gone wrong.

* Y/n doesn't know how to feel-- about anything? It was her first kiss after all. Plus she's basically Gojo's future wife that he doesn't want!.. but he gave Geto permission to like her? Ruffle her feathers? Yep. it's messy.

*Nanami has a crush and so does Geto. (Fuck Geto) *Not really..*

*Hibara likes drama.

Crack one shot

___________________________

Hibara put his finger under his chin in thought. "I can't see it. Show me again?"

You gave him a droll look and held out your hands in front of you. Pretending that you were Geto and the empty space between your hands was your own head.

You puckered your lips before opening them and sticking your tongue out.

Haibara snorted.

You got embarrassed and dropped your hands and put your tongue back into your mouth. "Then he started wiggling it and I got scared.."

Haibara fought back his laugh. It was obvious Geto liked you but he seemed to have forgotten that you had no experience with the opposite sex. It was cute--- but Hibara also knew a secret that you didn't--

He sighed. "I still can't tell you what it means. You're not showing me right."

You let out an exaggerated groan. "I'm trying my best here. It's not like I have the balls to go ask him to help me recreate it."

Haibara scoffed and began to think again. "We need to find you a dummy or something--"

Soft footsteps rounded the corner. "Y/n. The vending machine is out of that melon soda you like so I just got you a Coke.-- Why are you looking at me like that Hibara?"

Perfect. Just the dummy he was thinking of.

Nanami wore a bored look as he walked up to the both of you and handed you both your drinks.

Haibara wore the biggest smile. "Show me how Geto kissed you on Nanami!"

You gasped while Nanami choked on the soda he had just started drinking.

(Nanami) "I beg your pardon?--- wait, Geto kissed you?! When?"

(Hibara) "Laid a nasty one on her last night.--"

Why didn't you think of that! Nanami was perfect!

You held your hands together in a begging motion while Nanami looked at you with pink cheeks. "Please Nanami. May I violate your mouth? It's for science!"

Nanami felt like the air was getting thicker. But he kept his cool. "Absolutely not. Your thirst is showing Y/n. Drink your coke."

Ouch.

But Hibara wasn't giving up. He knew Nanami was fighting himself right now.

"Come on Nanami. It's not like you're getting girls to pucker up anytime soon... Especially with that hair."

You turned away to laugh under your breath while an irk mark appeared on Nanami's forehead.

"That's rude. Not only you judging me about my hair but the fact that you guys think I'm a whore."

You choked on air while Hibara's eyes went wide.

You caught your breath. "We don't think you're a whore! I asked you because I know for a fact you aren't one. I know where you've been and who you've been with.. Here with us! And the only dicking down you do is on some bread."

Nanami didn't know how to feel about that. And he did love bread.. just not that way?

He crossed his arms. Might as well go with it.. His poor dumb asses. "If you're using me as some lab rat. I at least need to be wined and dined first. What kind of girl do you think I am?"

Hibara laughed. "Clueless. You're pretending to be Y/n remember?"

You nodded but then got it a few seconds later. "Hey! I'm not-- okay maybe a little.." Your shoulders dropped. "Okay. I'm dumb..."

Nanami rolled his eyes. "You're not dumb. You were just deprived of simple pleasures and locked in a cage for who knows how long. And right now, I think Geto is just taking advantage of you. Since he and Yaga were the ones to find you and he thinks---- Did he even ask to kiss you?"

You couldn't really remember if he did?

Again Hibara knew. "Shoko said, that Gojo said, it was like in the movies when they just run to one another and start eating each other's face. I think Geto was just happy his girlfriend was back."

Your cheeks began to sting. "Girlfriend?! I'm not--"

Hibara cut you off. "Yeah. Okay. But I mean like-- How do I say this without being an ass." He scratched his head. "You sort of lead him on? Gosh that sounds awful.. I know you don't mean it but.--"

Nanami sighed. "He means! You and Geto hang around a lot... Touch a lot. He obviously likes you and probably thinks you like him too. "

You shrugged. "I do like him, I like everyone? And we touch a lot cause we have to? We both summon curses so he's helping me train. And helping me with hand to hand combat on the side since I suck at it and Gojo's just mean to me when we're supposed to spend time together.."

They both hummed.

(Hibara) "It's a different kind of like. The way you like him is different from the way you like us right?"

(Y/n) "I don't get it.."

Nanami felt a small pinch of jealousy in his chest. Geto wasn't a bad guy but-- He was so much older than you-- or should he say more experience? He was just trying to find every excuse to make him seem not right for you.

Nanami scoffed. "How do you feel when you're around him?"

You thought for a second. "Safe?"

Nanami almost laughed. "Even when Gojo's bullying you and Geto just stands there?"

Damn, it got quiet... Even the birds outside stopped singing.

Hibara cleared his throat.

But you spoke before he could. "I don't think he has a choice on that. The Gojo Clan basically bought me for that jerk so he can do with me as he pleases.. Even if he wanted to, Geto can't do anything about it."

Nanami shrugged. "Or he's just an asshole like his best friend Gojo. He wants to pluck the pretty flower instead of letting her flourish in a garden."

Hibara tilted his head. "Damn that's a good one."

You on the other hand were still lost? The last thing on your mind was falling in love anyways. Would it be nice to feel it one day? Hell yeah! But again, you belonged to the Gojo Clan, promised to be Satoru's wife one day. And you'd never love him the way you read about love or watched it in a movie..

Nanami just wanted to change the subject. He doesn't know why he's being jealous. Even if he did have a crush on you, that didn't mean you felt the same. And if you ever did-- Y'know, like him or Geto.. You couldn't be with either of them for long anyways. Once you turned 20 you and Gojo would be married..

He sighed. This was as good as it was going to get. "So are you going to kiss me or not?"

You looked up. "Oh right! I almost forgot what we were originally talking about."

Nanami leaned in and closed his eyes-- but Hibara's hand stopped his face from going any closer to yours.

Nanami opened his eyes. "Disgusting."

(Hibara) "Rude. My hands are clean!"

You and Nanami shared a look.. (Sure they were.)

Hibara was hurt.. "Anyway! We need to set the scene! Y/n didn't just lean in a pucker up."

He stood up. "Okay. Nanami picture this! You were on your very first mission and just got done being man handled by a first grade curse! Then BAM! You were stolen and brought back!... I don't want to go through the whole story.."

He then turned to you. "Y/n. Imagine you're one of Jujutsu Techs attractive Playboys and the girl you probably love has finally returned after the school was turned upside down from her being missing!-- You just got done blaming yourself and literally losing your shit."

You tried to cut him off. You didn't hear about that last part. "He did?"

Hibara waved you off. He'd tell you about it later. "Not important right now... Action!"

Nanami rolled his eyes but this time he sat still. You weren't the one to make the first move anyways and he was pretending to be you... Right?

"Um okay." You felt nervous all of a sudden. You shouldn't be! It was just Nanami-- He and Hibara were your best friends..

(Hibara) "Come on Geto. Get on with it."

You scooted closer to Nanami and grabbed his head. A lot softer than Geto originally did to yours but--- Nanami's hair was really soft.

His face was warm due to his blush. He was really handsome up close... Even with his emo screamo haircut.

The closer you got the faster your heart raced. Was this normal?

Nanami closed his eyes and you copied the second your lips brushed against his. Again it wasn't the same way Geto kissed you, this was much softer.

Nanami had this surge of bravery and lifted his hand to hold your cheek. Slowly moving to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss.

(Hibara) "Do you guys need to breathe yet?"

Neither of you hear him..

Your brain was short circuiting and you completely forgot what to do. What did Geto do next?

Oh right.

Your tongue touched his bottom lip and Nanami hesitantly let you in. But this is where you didn't know what to do..

So Nanami took over. Slowly swirling his tongue around yours. He's read about kissing like this in books so he understood it a little more than you did.

Though you both were still a bit lost and messy with it...

Oh, did I forget to mention.. This was Nanami's first kiss too? Oops..

Hibara smiled but it quickly faded. Was he really watching his two friends learn how to kiss while smiling like a creep? Wtf...

"Uh, you guys im gonna like, go get something from the vending machine. Don't make babies while I'm gone."

Again you two didn't even hear him. The only thing Hibara heard when he rounded the corner was.

(Nanami) "Breath through your nose idiot."

(You) "Sorry!"

Before it got nasty with the wet sounds again..

Hibara chuckled to himself when he finally reached his destination. "They're both hopeless... But am I a good wing man or what?"

He didn't expect anyone to answer. Well they didn't but a familiar deep voice called out to him.

"Hibara. Have you seen Y/n around?"

He turned to smile at his upperclassmen. "Sorry Geto. But I'm on my way to go find her now. Pretty sure she's with Nanami in the rec area."

Geto stood there while Hibara looked at the bag in his hand. "Did you bring stuff back from your mission? How was it?"

Geto gave off a smile. "It was fine. Over and done with pretty quickly." He sort of swayed on his feet. "I brought her some stuff she likes back-- Y'know.. As an apology for what happened the other day.-- Did she mention anything about being angry with me or?"

Oh Hibara loved drama. He pretended to think. "Hm? Not that I know of.. But again she's been with Nanami a lot so maybe ask him?"

Geto nodded."Should we go find them then? I think I need to explain myself."

No shit..

Hibara snorted. "Sure! Let's go!."

.................

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami x reader #attempt at fluff #yu haibara #geto suguru #crack #nanami kento

[roundbrackets]

The SS Eastland and Community Guidelines

I just watched Ask a Mortician talk about the tremendous work she and her team put into The Forgotten Disaster of the SS Eastland. I watched that video, I love that kind of stuff, and this one was truly well made. But the video I was watching was called Did We Really Violate Community Guidelines so that's where it ended - she and her team had worked their asses off to produce a documentary of a little known disaster and now it doesn't show up in your recommendations or in search Because YouTube found it had no educational intent. You can find it only by browsing the channel itself.

Months of work she said, buried in the slag heap of videos you'll never see. YouTube is a stone wall. There is no way to reach a person - not by email or by phone - you can't plead your case to the automated messages -

Where does that do but leave you questioning where you're going and whether it's worth it?

A per YouTube the real problem was the death, violence and gore - I have to assume it was the describing of the many dead, and the loved ones left who had to verify they had received the right body to bury, because there were just so many and clerical errors happened.

And I guess maybe it was also the story of the boy who never spoke of the day he swam and swam to recover the dead but once. It was a memory of a dead woman, deep in the hull of the ship, with her infant still wrapped in hers arms.

The sorrow resulting from the SS Eastland gutted me. That's violence of a sort, I suppose.

#ao3 #archive of our own #youtube #ask a mortician #community guidelines #creator

[aliveinacoffin]

A Silent Night's Exhibition

Aizawa was just trying to fight come villain scum when he realized he didn't have clothes.....and that his house was on the other side of the fucking city.

NSFW ahead, public nudity, man's is a gremlin in this

(Ty for the req! I had fun doing this, and it made me think about how to go about it!)

Shouta Aizawa let out a loud grunt as his back hit the brick wall in the dark ally he was stuck in. A more aware part of his brain told him the loud SMACK was unusual, but he paid no mind to it as more pressing matters were at hand.

The air knocked out of him, he briefly leaned over to catch his breath, hands splayed over his toned chest. Every part of him heaving and sweaty. He looked up through his raven locks, eyes straining to glare at the villain in front of him.

The villain in question was crouched on the floor, hiding behind the dumpster. The villain, self entitled as the Groper. Which made sense. For the past six months, there had been a notorious groper in Musutafu, a man going around and somehow wound leaving women naked and violated. How he did it was still a mystery since the people in question had always been too shaken up to answer.

"Come out, coward." Aizawa grunted, pulling the man by the back of his shirt and threw him on the ground. In a flash, the man flung dirt into his eyes. Instinctively, he rolled his eyes back and flung his hands over them. The searing pain of the grains of invaders in his sensitive eyes, he could feel his quirk fading away, his golden eyes fading back to their normal black.

He could hear shuffling, and suddenly, he became a lot fucking colder. Rubbing everything out of his eyes, he looked down to see the shreds of his clothing on the dirty ground.

Fuck, what the fuck?

He hears snickering and looked up to see the greasy man climbing over the tall fence, blocking off the rest of the ally. Aizawa easily hopped over, the stale wind a nice cool down on his overheated body. The creep climbed up a ladder on the side of one of the two buildings in a rather creepy manner, legs and arms moving faster than what should be normal.

By the time the tired teacher made it to the top, the criminal was gone. He groaned and hunched over, breaths coming on short pants. Aizawa rested his large hands on his knees. The slight hair he had on them tickled his hands.

Shit. Right, he'd almost forgotten.

The asshole had practically disintegrated his clothing. Almost every item of clothing he had was gone, including his goddamn shoes and socks. Most importantly, his underwear.

The open breeze was admittedly nice on his balls, sweaty in their confined in his underwear and heavy pants, but this was not okay. Shouta Aizawa was a teacher at the most prestigious hero school in Japan and the most respected underground hero there was.

His house was on the other side of the goddamn city, the shitty apartment he lived in. He only lived there to remind him of his humble beginnings, a cheap place in the epicenter of crime to make it easier on his aging age so he didn't have to swing miles out. Look where that got him, and it wasn't like he could just walk into his agency butt ass naked, he still had a reputation to uphold!

Still, there were only a few options he had here. Either call Yamada to help him, which instantly was a no. He couldn't deal with the teasing that was sure to come after that. He wouldn't call Midnight, he didn't want her of all people to see him in such a vulnerable position. Nedzu would be too much of a humiliating option, his own boss?

The last one...was not one he wanted at all. He still had his capturing scarf, synthetic material made specially for his quirk. Somehow, it evaded the opposing forces' quirk. Maybe it had something to do with the type of material?

Still, there was no use giving it much thought. What was more important was his situation at hand.

The only option left was to swing home, but that seemed like the most outrageous one. Would he really risk his job just so he wouldn't have to deal with his friends teasing?

Yes, yes, he would.

His heart raced at the idea, spikes of anxiety hammering his heart as he crouched to get in position to jump to the best building over.

He took off, trying to work off the anxiety he was starting the form, his scarf quickly wiping out to grasp onto the nearest object to help swing him forward. Aizawa let out a quiet grunt as his bare feet landed on the cold cement, almost crashing into the AC box.

He leaned his back on the cool metal. For some reason, he was still hot all over, as if his body refused to let down even though the night was cool. He ran over to the other side, just as quickly as before jumping to another building. Just as he was going to continue his venture, a sound made him stutter to a stop.

"Hello? Whose up there?" A gruff sounding voice called out to him in the darkness, making his heart skip a beat. He was sure no one would spot him with the darkness of the night, but he forgot to make sure he was silent. He couched down, covering his hands with his mouth, to stop any unwanted noise to come through.

His breaths came in short stuttering moans. Still, he needed to get back before day break. That would be an even worse situation to be in. Still, there was a familiar heat in the bottom of his stomach, the feeling of his balls tightening.

When the older man looked down, he was extremely surprised to see his dick was embarrassingly hard. Aizawa could almost feel the blood pumping I'm his hard cock, pre-cum leaking down his red tip. Still, he waited until the steps receded before getting back up.

He needed to ignore the situation at hand here, his destination of getting home much more important than his hard on. He turned around to quickly jump from this building to the next, repeating the movements to fall into a steady flow.

Though, now that he was aware of his boner, the one that could be out for anyone to see somewhat distracted him. His throbbing cock pulling all the blood from his brain, making him unaware of the house party going on in the house across from him. He had been taking a quick break to try and catch his breath, lungs working overtime. That's when the sounds of loud music snapped him out of whatever mental fog he was in.

He could see it, even from across the street. Young people swaying their bodies, shamelessly grinding onto each other, practically fucking eachother through their clothes. He could see of his colleagues through the wide open window, each of them lost in their own world. He quickly turned away, needing to just get home and take care of himself.

A heavy thud caught his attention, the sound loud, and reverberating.

Fuck, again?

Aizawa turned around, and his heart almost leaped out of his chest. Mirko was standing proud, hands on her hips, and looking determined out into the night sky. He would have taken the moment to stand with her, maybe have a light conversation with the strong woman before leaving.

But his hard dick and naked body was a big problem, a very hot and ball tightening problem. Normally, the idea of being in such a compromising position would make him feel afraid. But now it had his heart racing for a different reason, a boner inducing reason.

So he quickly turned around and sprinted across the next rooftop, trying to evade any type of situation.

"Hey! What are you doing!" She called out, voice booming like she was in a fucking stadium.

She started after him, whether or not she could see he was naked was the most pressing matter. Whether or not she could recognize him was important.

He quickly jumped down into the nearest ally, knees taking most of the damage as he ducked down into the darkest part of his. Aizawa could hear Mirkos' thundering footsteps rush away, voice cackling in the darkness.

Aizawas were as weak as ever, light headed and mind in a haze as his cock throbbed violently. His dick a never-ending stream for pre, his balls aching for the sweet release of an orgasm.

Still, he needed to make it home, the beeping of his watch and the night sky slowly turning lighter made it obvious he needed to get home soon. Thankfully for him, he wasn't that far from home, less than a mile to go.

He got up again, his scarf quickly snapping out to help him hoist up on the roof again. Aizawa spider manned himself to the top, low pants and moans now the only sounds he could make.

Aizawa could see his small apartment, the sight of him made him sigh in relief. Knowing that he could give that same relief physically.

He landed quietly on his fire escape, and he near damn ripped open his own window. He quickly crawled into his own home, collapsing on the floor. Aizawas head thunked against his wall, his hand immediately gravitating towards his heavy cock.

He couldn't help his inhuman pace, the feeling of being edged all night quickly pushed him towards orgasm. His low grunts and whines echoed in his empty apartment, the feeling of bliss he'd never felt before made his head dizzy and fuzzy. Aizawa came fast and hard, toes curling against his carpeted floor. Making a mess of himself all over his chest, Aizawa came with a loud moan.

He'd never come this hard and fast before, not even as a horny teenager did he ever do this.

He had to do this again.

___________________________________________

And he did, Aizawa couldn't help himself. He deserved the adrenaline, that rush he got knowing at any moment someone could catch him and be humiliated.

Tonight would be perfect. It was his patrol, and the air was humid in temperature. His hair shuffled in the slight breeze, giving his already heating body a nice cooling feeling.

He could feel his dick twitching at the excitement that would come to.

#my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia #shota aizawa #aizawa shouta #one shot #mha smut #aizawa smut #reqs open

[strictolderdad62]

Grandparents are taking up the neglected task of giving OTK Spankings.

With the world changing and more often moving too fast for parents to get control over wild teens.

Staying with grandad Pete meant that she had to keep up her grades and behave like a lady. With the freedom of being out of their parents houses young people tend to take advantage of the new living situation. Nora was soon informed of the old fashioned way he had of dealing with slumping grades, Curfew violations, and "sneaking out at night... thought I didn't know"? He took off her skirt as she stood silent. He then lowered her panties, put her over hus knee and spanked her. He turned the young woman's pale bare cheeks a steamy hot red. With the promises to behave and pleads of mercy the girls round globes bounced under the older man's swats. There were many sessions that young Nora experienced over his lap.

Wealthy Step granddad Franklin let young Donny know that he would put him across his lap if the need arose that his attitude needed to be adjusted. Sneaking girls in to spend the night was the young lads biggest weakness. It got him bare bottom spanked about once or twice a month. His pajama bottoms down and buns bared the lad tried not to squirm and wriggle as Grandad Franklin spanked him over and over. Thinking he was a "ladies man" caused him to use young women as playthings. Catching him with a girl wasnt news. The fact of her age was an issue. On this occasion he spanked him in front of the girls father who'd been called to pick up his daughter. She waited in the car as Both men took pleasure in embarrassing him by talking about his smooth almost hairless ass. Rubbing and squeezing his cheeks made Danny's face turn as red as his buns.

Jenny knew that her grandfather was strict, and was warned by her mom that he might spank her if she acts up while staying with him. He was British and this was even more common there, than here in the U.S.A. Her mother told her that it was a quick and easy way to get "antics" swept under the rug and forgotten. When asked how often she was spanked, her mother replied, "about 3 or 4 times a month... I was pretty bad." As it turned out, young Jenny was only a little better behaved than her mom. She was there for 3 months and recieved 8 spankings in that time. The anticipation of getting that first one was too much for the teen. So, she simply went to him and stated that she felt "super Guilty" about being mean to her mom before leaving. That she'd lied to spend time with her boyfriend instead of them spending time together. "Is there anyway I can feel not so bad inside?" He calmly explained that being spanked always made the guilt fade away. Telling her that she'd been well behaved since arriving and that she'd come to him without being told. "That's the best way to avoid a hard spanking." He said that he'd spanked her mom often for being so wild. The girl acted as if she was hearing this for the first time. "Do you think that's, what I, umm, what you should do?" He nodded, motioned her over,. lifted her skirt, and after positioning her across his lap, he then lowered her panties. She inhaled sharply as the air swept over her ass. He spanked her steadily but she later learned, not very hard. Scolding her as his rough hands made her bare bottom jump lewdly. When it was done she knew her mother had been right. It was quick, and not as humiliating as she thought.

So, take them across the lap and spank their bare asses as needed.

#discipline #naugthy girl #naughty #spank my ass #spank me daddy #stepdad #spankable bottom #black cock only #cock tease #stepdaughter #slutty wife #little tease

[theherosvillain]

4: Before it's too late

Previous - Masterpost - Next

CWs: captivity, violence

The way back to the room was a dead end, so I continued past the office, keeping a quick pace through the empty hallways. They wouldn’t be empty for long; Vale said he was sending somebody to collect me. I just had to find the exit before they showed up.

But that was easier said than done. Each hallway looked the same, and some branched off in different directions with no indication of where an exit might be. There had to be a joke here about Vale’s evil lair violating fire safety protocols, with its lack of exit signs, and despite the dire situation, I almost laughed. Maybe if Vale got reported to the fire marshal, that would finally get him arrested …

My grin dropped quickly, and I shook my head. I had to get the fuck out of here.

I heard footsteps coming from the other direction. I paused in the middle of the long, empty hallway. Nowhere to hide—and nowhere to run, either.

A figure rounded the corner, and my stomach dropped as I recognized him. I’d been expecting one of Vale’s henchmen. Somehow I’d forgotten about his second in command, James Ryker. He was tall and muscled, always wearing a scowl beneath his military-style buzzcut. Maybe if he cared about the law, he could’ve been in the military. Instead, he was hired to do Vale’s dirty work—which, right now, included keeping me in check.

“Hey!” Ryker snapped, sauntering toward me. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Immediately, I started to backpedal. I’d won fights against Ryker before, but that was when I wasn’t dead tired and aching all over. I wasn’t risking it now.

Despite the panic buzzing in my veins, a nervous grin twitched onto my face. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the exit is?” I asked innocently.

He glowered at me. “You couldn’t just stay put, could you?”

Again, I was mystified by the assumption that I’d do what I was told. What did they expect from me? “Hm. No,” I said. Then I turned and started running.

My muscles burned in protest, but I forced myself to keep moving, spurred on by Ryker’s pounding footsteps behind me. I couldn’t remember which way I came from, and I couldn’t slow down long enough to figure it out. Ryker was gaining on me, which came as a surprise—I was usually faster than him.

My sneakers skidded against the floor as Ryker snagged the back of my hoodie. He shoved me against the wall, and my face slammed into the concrete. “You’re such a pain in the ass,” he muttered to himself. “I can’t believe Vale put me on babysitting duty.”

“Well, if you don’t want to babysit,” I said, “you could just let me go.”

He snorted and pulled me up, his fist still twisted in my hoodie. “Yeah, right. Come on, brat.”

I begrudgingly stumbled along as he dragged me down the long, winding halls. Finally he paused in front of a door, keeping one hand on me as he unlocked it. I just barely managed to keep my footing as he shoved me unceremoniously inside. “Don’t fucking try to escape again,” he warned me. “I’ll beat the shit out of you.” He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he slammed the door in my face.

The new room was similar to the one I’d woken up in, except this one had a cot bolted to the floor. Still no windows, and no air vents I could fit through. The door only had one lock, and I wondered if that was on purpose. Didn’t Vale know that I could pick locks? Outside the door, Ryker’s heavy footsteps retreated. If he was confident enough to walk away from me, maybe he didn’t know I could pick locks.

For a moment, I eyed the cot, feeling exhausted. Maybe I should rest, so that I’d have a better chance of escaping … It was tempting, but I decided against it. I had to get out of here before Vale came back. I started picking the lock.

It didn’t take long to hear the telltale click, and I popped the door open and got moving again. After a tense bout of wandering, I spotted a door with a push bar instead of a knob. My heart rate sped up. Stairwell? Please? Cautiously, I pushed it open. The creak made me wince, but I didn’t hear anything else. When I opened it fully, I saw stairs leading up.

Relief flooded through me, and I had to remind myself that I wasn’t out of the woods yet. The stairs just led to the first floor; I still had to find a real way out. But this was something; it was progress.

I climbed the stairs two at a time and paused at the top. I didn’t sense anyone on the other side of the door, but I opened it slowly, poking my head out. The hallway up here was sleek and modern, with glossy floors and dark walls, but it was still empty. I slipped out of the stairwell and started walking. Maybe the first floor had exit signs …? I could hope, anyway.

It didn’t, and it was just as labyrinthine as the basement. My heart thudded as I crept through the halls, my nerves growing the longer I went without seeing any way outside.

Finally, I spotted a door with a narrow window in it, light streaming through. I didn’t even think before I ran for it. Just as my hand wrapped around the handle, two masked figures appeared down the hall. One of them shouted, and I yanked the door open, rushing through.

Fresh air filled my lungs as I stepped into the alleyway—and immediately spotted two henchmen at the end, blocking the way out. I spun on my heel and found a brick wall at the other end. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

Arms wrapped around me from behind, lifting me off my feet. I thrashed against them, and then a second pair of hands joined in. “No!” Dammit, I was so close—

They hauled me back through the door. I winced as my knees hit the ground, and several pairs of hands held me there. The henchmen started whispering to each other, but they cut off at a pair of heavy footsteps.

Ryker stormed towards me, looking more pissed off than usual. “How the hell did you even—?” He cut himself off and grabbed a fistful of my hair. “Why couldn’t you just stay put?!”

I gritted my teeth and angled my head to take the pressure off. “Don’t know what you expected,” I managed.

The slap caught me off guard, although maybe it shouldn’t have. “I can’t believe Vale thinks you’re smart.” He released my hair and hauled me up by my hoodie, dragging me down the hall. “If you don’t stay put this time, I’ll fucking kill you, you hear me? I don’t care what Vale says—”

I tuned out his insults and the lingering sting on my cheek, burning at the indignity of it. But there was one thought that kept me going: I was so close. I knew the way out this time—sort of. I’d find it again. I didn’t have any other choice.

Ryker dumped me in the same room as last time, and as soon as I heard him walk away, I got to work on the lock. It clicked open just as easily as before. I waited a minute, two, but I didn’t hear anything outside. I slipped out of the room, turned the corner—

And ran straight into Ryker.

His boot drove into my gut, knocking the wind out of me. “What the hell is your problem?” he demanded. I crashed to the ground and couldn’t even get a breath in before he kicked me in the ribs. I felt something crack and cried out, shielding myself with my arms. “I fucking told you to stay put, you idiot!” I managed to curl into a ball, my limbs taking the worst of the blows. Tears sprang to my eyes, and even through the haze of pain, I felt pathetic for it. I needed to get up, fight back, but all I could do was try to keep Ryker from breaking more ribs.

The kicking stopped abruptly. Ryker yanked me up, his face inches from mine. “Get your ass back in that cell and stay there,” he snapped.

My ribs throbbed, and a stray tear rolled down my cheek. I glared at him. “Fuck you.”

Apparently, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

Pain jolted through my bruised arms as I caught myself against the cell floor. The door slammed behind me, and Ryker’s muffled threats drifted through before I heard him storm away.

I dragged myself over to the cot and carefully laid down, wincing when I put too much weight on my ribs. Everything hurt. I found myself staring at the door. It would be so easy to pick the lock, find my way back to that exit door, get myself the fuck out of here—if I could get past Ryker and the henchmen. If I could actually stand up after that beating. I wasn’t sure if I could.

I shut my eyes, tears leaking out of the corners, and resigned myself to resting.

-

Title credits: Letterbomb - Green Day

Tag list: let me know if you want to be tagged in updates!

#original writing #original fiction #fiction #wip #heroes and villains #oc: the phantom prince #oc: james ryker #(try not to) kill all your friends #captivity #violence tw #chapter summary: phantom experiences the consequences of Not Knowing When To Quit

[idiotkobold]

John Wick's High Table is the Camarilla

This isn't groundbreaking to anyone in both fandoms, but it's been in my head for years and today it HAD to get out. Maybe it'll help people in either fandom cross over to the other one, or draw inspiration, or solidify a concept that has wafted at the edge of intuition, but for me I just have to write this so it's out of my head.

Broad strokes so this doesn't go on forever: The sanctuaries! The Hotels are Elysia, the sacred ground upon which the assassins/vampires may do each other no harm. Like an Elysium, the sacred quality of a Hotel may be revoked, either by its Manager/Prince or by someone higher-ranked than them, and restored at a later time. The ranking system! Concierge=Seneschal. Manager=Prince. Adjudicator/Harbinger are very specific titles, but both fit the role of Archon. The Marquis was a Justicar. The High Table is the Inner Council. The currency! The coins, the blood-mark tokens, whatever other things Wickverse uses that I've forgotten over the years, these are physical representations of Boons. Trivial, Minor, Major, Blood, or Life, these are favors owed and debts paid. - Little diversion here because this is SO important, but this ties into why everybody John interacts with in the first movies adores him so much. When he reopens his old life, he has STACKS of coins. That's not just jobs done, money paid, mercenary devil-may-care. That's individual times when someone else in the Camarilla/under the Table said 'I appreciate what you did and how you did it, in the future I will repay this debt of action.' The Table has money, it's willing to pay normal-ass currency for jobs to just get done, but Coins/Boons are what the vampires/assassins use among themselves, and as it shows that access to a Hotel can be bought with these coins it also parallels how Boons can be transferred to a vampire outside of the initial debt-connection. The aesthetic! The aesthetic! The aesthetic! The shadow-war fought just beneath the surface of an ignorant world! The Masquerade part of Vampire: the Masquerade is fear-driven, "don't let the mortals discover we exist or they'll destroy us all," but it exists in the Wickverse as well. The assassins fight in public spaces, but the public seem not to notice or not to care - sideline again to call out that spaces owned by people under the Table are not public spaces, those have different rules to them - and even the most public of broadcasts are done in code (the radio transmissions in Wick 4). The rules and rituals! John was Bloodhunted. Domains were honored, or their violation was reviled. Hierarchy and its maintenance (or revolution in opposition to it) is THE most important thing. The rituals of loyalty and the laws of the society binding everyone - even the unseen High Table - into certain courses of action as if they were natural law.

One caution: the UNIVERSE of John Wick overlaps very strongly with V:tM, but the STORY does not suit a normal chronicle. I said it above, but John Wick is Bloodhunted, and that is the END of a character. Chronicles should be about the existence of multiple characters. I strongly recommend that anyone who enjoyed the John Wick world look into V:tM, but consider how the characters would have been before John met his wife.

#john wick #vampire: the masquerade #camarilla #the continental

[zahlibeth]

BINGO!

Buck: "hell yeah, this daredevil hero stuff is what I signed up for Bobby" oh sweetie

is he... is he free-climbing??? he legit is just HOLDING on to the coaster at the top what the hell. yeah this goes under 'only on TV' because surely you should be clipped to the coaster!?

Chim: "it's America Buckaroo, eating has nothing to do with being hungry" now ain't that the truth! I meant to put 'nicknames' on my bingo actually as i've done previously, whoops! but yes, this is the first instance of Buckaroo!

Chim's one-night stand analogy is hilariously on point for someone who is familiar with the one-night-stand but also constantly hoping and reaching for more

I love that Athena is known and loved in the firehouse already, getting hugs from both Chim and Bobby and welcomed in when she's having a hard time. I love how the show just admits characters are having a rough time and they're not hiding it all away

had totally forgotten the hilarious copaganda of Athena skipping the drive-thru line for work reasons, love the way Hen and Athena are on the same wavelength here

"they're just turned on by the uniform, don't know if they would feel that way if they saw me out of it" SIR think before you speak my god

not a fan of Carla's lines here, "men are dogs" really. urgh.

yeah yeah Abby getting Buck's number from the report is a clear privacy violation (my GDPR soul is screaming) but they're so fucknig cute I am willing to waive the TV nature of it all. Abby flopping on the bed post call is such a mood I love her

"following orders wasn't my best quality but hey, i was working on it" oh no buddy, this is you working on it??

"I love this job because I get to be the tough guy but I also get to help people" baby boy i adore you

Bobby is SUCH a dad already i love him. Not a family my ass

"look, I have issues" yes Buck, correct

"I won't go out with you because I like you. Because I know we've only talked a couple times, but talking to you makes me feel really good and safe and curious about life because I can tell that you're special. And I don't have anyone like you in my life and I don't want to do anything to risk losing you" I LOVE HIM HE'S SO SWEET

GOOD and SAFE and CURIOUS omg what fucking excellent qualities!! I adore this for him so much

"sometimes the right kind of no is better than the wrong kind of yes" ABSOLUTELY

Best look: sooty Buck!! the only evidence of a fire in the season so far. honorouble mention to Abby's cute pastel bi plaid

Worst look: Michael's lil cardigan. no dude. honourable mention for Buck's denim on denim plaid therapy look which i kind of love?? but also it feels very un-Buck even in season 1 when we're not really sure who he IS yet

Character notes: Chim...also doesn't like dogs? or just doesn't like giant ones!

Buck "a year ago I put in to be a Navy SEAL"

#911hiatus2023 #bingo cards #season 1 #in my 911 era

[darkstarerotica]

She told him she wanted him to surprise her. "Don't tell me when or where. But I want you to force yourself on me. I want you to violate me in every way possible. Use me like a sex toy. Fill all my holes. I want your friends inside me too. I want to feel used completely "

She had almost forgotten talking about this with him. They continued to fuck daily. He always made her cum. He'd cum inside her or all over her face. She loved his taste and would always scoop his cum into her mouth with her greedy fingers.

One night she was home alone fast asleep. She was woken up by a hand pressed firmly against her mouth. "Don't scream" the voice told her. As a ball gag was forced into her mouth. She was groggy and confused as a hand reached down and ripped her panties off. She always only wore panties and a band tea. Someone grabbed her hands behind her back with one hand and with the other pulled her hair back tight as he breathed into her ear "we're going to fuck you so good little girl" she whimpered through the gag as the drool started to stream down her face.

She felt another pair of hand roughly grab her breasts. Massaging them and pinching her nipples. Then caressing her face till he pulled back and slapped it hard. She loved the pain but was still scared and unsure what was going on. She heard the sound of ropes moving behind her and before she could even think her hands were being tightly bound behind her.

"don't you dare cry little girl" you're here for our pleasure. The voice in front of her said as he rubbed and pinched her breasts more. He then brought his hand to her face and rubbing her saliva all over it slapped it again till it tingled red. "That's a good girl" he said through her muffled cry.

She then felt both their hands start to explore her body rubbing down both sides of her legs they then forced her legs apart. She was already wet, excited by the idea of being these men's fuck toy. Scared of what they might do she still quivered in anticipation.

She felt a finger, then two, slide into her pussy. "Oh you like that don't you". Then she heard the name behind her spit on his fingers and then slowly insert his middle finger into her ass. She could feel both fingers together one on her tight little asshole the others in her wet pussy moving in and out together. "You like that little girl" she nodded as her hair was pulled back and her neck kissed and licked.

They stopped and she could hear the sounds of their clothes coming off. Slipping off the bed. She then felt their hard cocks rubbing against her legs. She was on her side sandwiched between them. The man in front of her slipped his cock into her wetness. Only the top at first. The other one behind pulling her hands and hair back. "You ready to get fucked little girl?" She nodded and he slapped her face a couple light pats as the man's hard cock thrusted inside her. He pulled her on top in one fast movement as he thrust in and out of her. She felt something wet and warm on her asshole. She had never had two men inside her and she was frightened about how it would feel. She felt his finger slide easily in and out as she was still being fucked deeply in her now drenched pussy. Then she felt a second finger stretch her out slide in and out and then removed. Now riding vigorously the man lying on his back she felt the man behind her moving into position. Could hear the cap of the lube close and felt his hard cock wet with lubricant slide up and down her ass as she still road the cock inside her.

With one moment the man's hard cock penetrated deep into her ass following the thrusts from the man beneath her. The pain was exquisite at first but then quickly turned to pleasure as both cocks slid in and out of her.

She moaned louder as her pleasure became deeper and deeper. They changed positions and holes. She was lost in the pulsing of their cocks. Finally she came. Quivering her legs shaking. But they wouldn't stop and made her cum over and over. Sweat pouring all over their bodies. Three bodies joined as one.

Finally she felt a hand remove the ball gag. Pat her face wet with saliva. Then a third cock was thrust deep in her mouth. Gagging and spitting she was thrilled about being fully used. All her holes being filled at once. This third cock tasted familiar. She would know that any where as it thrust relentlessly down her throat. "That's my good little Angel" the voice said "take that cock deep down your throat" she melted as she recognized the voice. They filled and thrusted all her holes till she came one last time and quivering hands still tied behind her they stood above her jerking their hard wet cocks off till they coated her pretty little face in three thick layers of their cum. She passed out from tiredness and pleasure. Her face still coated.

She woke up.the next morning. Used and soar and face covered in dry cum in her lovers embrace. She melted into him as she remembered her night of pleasure.

[catspinach]

So one of the other supervisors, Mylah, has been working here for 4 yrs now, and when I was training, she was a total hard ass. Fucking mean about it too, saying like "how do u not know how to do this obscure task" like 2 months after starting the new job. I'd get notes by morning shift saying what I didn't get done, and I've had to have conversations with them telling them they're being too harsh, and I'm trying my best and to be patient, etc. Mylah would call me supid and gossip about me, and she went out of her way to get my work friend fired (eventually succeeded). I was fucking sad about that, bacause I'm not close to any of the other night shifts. I hated my job for a hot minute, considering transferring to another store.

Fast forward, and I'm getting fewer notes. I check back and read every single note in the book. It's to the point now where Mylah is getting notes every single night, and I get 1 or 2 if any. I actually get everything finished, and we're out within 15min after close. Today I was delighted to see that she has once again forgotten to take the tip jar inside after close, and my manager wrote a note that if it happens again she's going to get a writeup bc it's a cash violation :)

So uh basically she really sucks at her job. Theres no reason for her to be so rude abt any little quirky thing i do, and ive talked to my manager about it and she said im not the first one to complain. One of the baristas told me I'm her fave shift recently, and that I'm good at my job, and I felt really good about that. one of the other mean girls quit (horrible work ethic, always high as balls), and since then, I have started to enjoy my job again. It's not the only thing on my mind anymore, and I feel very competent now, and I actually don't mind what I do!

[shorkbrian]

How about some barbarian bakugo noncon?

Prelude - One time I came home from a walk and smelled this scent so freaking thick that I could taste it, and I almost threw up cause it smelled like skinning a deer but like, ten times worse?? and I was like lol that’s kinda weird and it turns out the neighbor had caught a skunk in a catch-and-release trap (which we gave him cause we didn’t want him catching a skunk in a trap that’d kill it) and apparently decided to kill it right then and there, and just let it by the edge of his property, right by my car. That was fun. 

Anyways, Katsuki makes a big deal about reader looking different in this. You can take that any way you’d like. Personally, I was feeling insecure about my freckles (I have so many that my skin almost looks even-toned because they almost all touch rip) and my hair color/odd face so I wrote him liking that reader looked different. It’s not super deep lol

Pairing - Bakugou Katsuki X Reader X slight Izuku Midoriya

Warnings - NSFW, dubcon, noncon, voyerisum, exhibistionism, blood mention lol. Idk groping?

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4FeWr4OsidcJClBjUEBHWI?si=OPHwLWXrTsiNQ42SlMKLEg

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There is a point where you stop screaming.

A point when you realize that no one is coming to save you, that you’re wasting your breath, that it’s fruitless. Does nothing more than raw your throat and grate against your own ears.

It’s no use. The Barbarian King seems unaffected, perhaps even spurred on by your ear-splitting screams. There’s no reason to scream anymore - it’d be impossible to scream forever.

——

Village in flames, corpses littering the streets. You’d heard about the stench of death from books, from traveling warriors who stop in your village for a night, regaling the people with tales of heroics and strength. It smelled quite different from what you had imagined though.

Metallic, yes, but tangy, thick enough for you to taste the iron seeping into the ground. Raw, like the scent of the butcher’s shop, heavy and suffocating - you hadn’t been able to breathe.

Everything had happened so fast, too fast. People were dead, people were dying, people were killing and being killed. You had been running, trying to escape the stifling aroma of your village being drained, the barbarians running amok through the streets leeching out it’s lifeblood.

Then you had been falling, tripped up by a loose limb on the ground, a body still warm and rattling with it’s last breaths. Shocked by the vivid image of the gore underneath you, a man reaching for his severed arm, you hadn’t been able to catch yourself as you fell, a cry leaving your lips.

Darkness.

And then light as you slowly blinked to awareness, slumped on the ground. A line of prisoners, prizes from the raid. You were one of them, hands bound to your neck, ankles tied to the people on either side of you. Two men had come by after a while, a green haired man in dress similar to your own - perhaps a captured man from the village?

The other man was bare chested, as many of the barbarians were, gold and red paint swirled across his skin in intricate, sharp patterns. He looked fearsome, and he barked at the green haired man accompanying him who scribbled furiously onto paper at each utterance of the fearsome blonde man.

They seemed to be going down the lengthy line of prisoners, assigning them? Selecting them for something? You didn’t know, couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were numb, sealed off from the horrific event you had just experienced, safe within your cocoon of forced apathy.

And then the two men were in front of you, the blonde man silent as he stared you down, the green haired man with his pen poised, though he studied you also.

But they quickly moved on, the barbarian barking something at his companion, before striding to the next prisoner.

You had been untied from your fellow captives, led through the barbarian camp. Red tents, warm fires and laughter filled the space, bare-chested warriors of both genders celebrating their recent victory.

The large red tent you had been led to was warm, a fire crackling in the deep pit in the center, silky furs softening the harshness of the ground. There was a table in front of the fire, a large basin filled with water nearby, close to the fire. A desk in the corner, near the tent flap, and a folding screen hiding the back of the tent from view.

Promptly tied to the leg of a table, you were left alone, the woman who had dragged you here leaving before you could ask what was happening.

Shortly, green hair popped through the tent flap, quickly followed by the rest of the man from earlier, the one dressed like your people.

“Izuku Midoriya!” He had introduced himself, giving a little flourish as he bowed, before being pushed aside as the fearsome blonde from before entered the tent.

Still tied to the leg of the table, numb to the world, you merely stared at the ground when the two men approached.

“What’s your name?” The green haired man - Izuku - asked.

He was met with a blank stare.

The blonde man growled at your lack of answer, spitting something in his native tongue, words you didn’t understand. Izuku seemed to shrink, before turning to address you again.

“Please tell us your name. Kacchan is not the most patient man.”

The fearsome man beside him bared his teeth towards you, and you shrank back. He did not seem the type of person who tolerated being left waiting.

“(Y/N)….” You whispered, eyes falling to the ground.

“(Y/N), ah! Such an interesting name, the first part means-“ Izuku was cut off from his ramble with a shove from the blond man - Kacchan - who crouched down in front of you, rolling your name around his tongue.

Turning, he spoke to Izuku in the same jumbled language, who listened, then addressed you as Kacchan turned back to study you again.

“Kacchan would like to know uhm, uuh.....” Izuku trailed off, uncertain eyes flickering between you and the blonde.

Kacchan scoffed, listening to Izuku’s hesitancy with disdain, saying something directed at the younger man, yet Kacchan’s eyes were fixed on you the entire time. It was intimidating.

“He uh, wants to know ifyou’reavirgin.”

Oh god.

Even though the man’s words were rushed, you understood, limbs beginning to shake. You were going to be violated.

A finger poking your calf made you jump, the blonde man leering at you, head cocked to the side, eyebrow raised as if to say “Well?”

You shook your head - lovers had existed in your life, not many, but you still cherished each one deeply, thought back on the experiences you shared fondly.

When relayed this information, the blonde man seemed to grin even wider, rising to his feet. “This will be easier then, no need to go slow.”

With a gasp, you lifted your gaze, wide eyes taking in the man hovering above you. His words were completely forgotten as you took in the shock of understanding his words. He spoke your tongue? Wasn’t he using an interpreter? Why-?

The confusion must be apparent on your face, because Kacchan scoffed, turning to stride to the table, taking a seat facing the fire.

“It pays to play dumb.”

“Loose lipped locals give information more freely when they assume that Kacchan can’t understand them.” Izuku beamed, crouching down in the Barbarian’s previous place to begin untying the rope binding your hands and feet to the table leg.

“Stand up for me please.”

You did as Izuku asked, shakily rising to your feet with a helping hand from Izuku on your arm. He began leading you towards the basin nearby, Kacchan watching the two of you with sharp eyes.

“Do you need help with the fastenings?” Giving Izuku a confused look, your eyes fell to the basin, to the fire, to Kacchan seated at the table. Were they going…. Were they going to boil you alive? Eat you?

Trembling even harder now, it was only Izuku’s surprisingly strong grip on your arm that kept you upright, knees giving out beneath you.

“Help her out, she’s damn near useless.” Kacchan’s strong voice cut through the air, the air that seemed too thick, the air that was choking you, throat closing up.

What does one even do in this situation? Do you beg for your life? Scream for help? Who would come? Accept your inevitable fate?

There was no time to make a decision, however, because Izuku’s nimble fingers were pulling at the fastening of your dress, quickly unlacing it.

You were numb again, fingers leaden, legs heavy, mind fuzzy and listless. Izuku peeled down the top of your dress, and you barely thought to cover yourself - you’d be dead in minutes anyways, what did it matter?

Still, your hands rose to your breasts, shielding them from view involuntarily. Kacchan snorted from his sweat, but said nothing.

When you were completely bare, an arm over your chest, a hand over your sex, Izuku ushered you towards the basin, prompting you to step into it.

This was it, you were going to die.

One last shot of fear raced up your spine, and you turned to the green haired man by your side, his hand falling away from the small of your back. “Please, please don’t kill me, I don’t know what I did but please spare my life. Please, I’m sorry.”  Tears were burning your vision, throat choked up with thickness.

Kacchan burst into laughter. “I’m not gonna kill you, the fuck?! Goddamn, your people call us barbarians yet you’re afraid of a bath, fucking hypocrites.” There was a mirthful glint in his eyes when you looked at him, the man leaning back in his chair, arms resting behind his head as he relaxed.

Izuku chuckled also, putting his hand on your lower back again, gently pushing you towards the basin. “You’ll be okay, it’s just some warm water. It’s close to the fire because we don’t want you to catch a chill. You know, the human body actually operates best when it’s within the temperatures of-“

“Deku, shut your trap before I come kick your ass, just get the girl into the water, you dumb fuck.”

The water was warm, and it felt pleasant against your skin, just on the right side of too warm, hot enough to have you relaxing your shoulders as you sank down lower, the liquid covering you up to your neck.

Izuku-Deku? Held your hair out of the way, quickly using a scoop to wet down the strands before rubbing some kind of herbal scrub through your scalp, cleaning out the dirt and debris that had gathered during the raid. You were certain you were absolutely filthy, covered in mud and small scraps, half of your side crusted with dried blood and muck from falling in the bloody street.

For a moment, you felt embarrassed at your earlier panic, silly and like a stupid child, thinking that they were going to boil and eat you. It was clear now what their intent had been, but riddled with fear your thoughts had been clouded and slow.

Fear was still present, rolling through your brain in waves, goosebumps rising from your flesh as you tried to hypothesize what was going to happen to you. From their earlier questioning, you had a faint idea, but you couldn’t bear to think about that outcome, didn’t know if you could tolerate it.

Instead, you let the warm water soothe your body, washing away the grime and dust. Izuku’s hands were gentle in your hair, as he massaged your scalp, as he rinsed out the soap. You tried to ignore how his breath hitched whenever you shifted - you couldn’t keep all of your body covered, no matter how you positioned yourself.

His hands disappeared from your hair, instead prompting your to sit up straight so he could scrub at your body with a cloth smelling of the herbal soap.

It felt weird, and goosebumps arose on your skin as strange hands touched your body. You closed your eyes and endured, for there was nothing else that could be done.

Running would be a bad idea - a naked woman sprinting through the barbarian camp would surely be caught and violated, or brought back to this tent for some twisted punishment. And you could only run if you managed to get past the two men, who ere watching you like hawks, and much, much stronger than you.

Izuku’s hands paused briefly at your chest, eyes flickering over to the blonde man, who nodded in permission. Then Izuku’s hand were running the cloth across your breasts, washing them in gentle circular motions, taking care to not scrub too hard or push too deep.

You bit your tongue as you waited for it to be over.

And it was soon, at least that part. Then the green haired man was instructing you up on your knees, facing him. Telling you to grab onto his shoulder (the man was also kneeling) and spread your legs apart.

Trembling limbs obeyed, face flushing bright red as you followed his commands, eyes squeezing shut so you wouldn’t have to look at his own flushed face.

He ran the cloth down your back, over your ass, then slipped it between your legs to wash your sex with easy swipes of the cloth. The man’s breathing picked up subtly, and you could tell, leaning up against him as you were. His hands wandered, the cloth moving slower and slower upon your cunt, almost stroking at your folds, his fingers pressing through the cloth.

“Oi, Deku! Keep your shitty hands to yourself, you’re supposed to be washing her up, not feeling her up, shitbrain.” Kacchan barked, slamming his fist down against the table to get Izuku’s attention.

Both you and the man in front of you jumped, Izuku immediately blushing the deepest red you’d ever seen, flashing the blonde an apologetic look and you a nervous smile, before he seemed to gather himself, continuing to dutifully cleanse your nether regions.

It was awkward for the both of you, feeling his hands run over your private areas, over your sex, through your ass cheeks. But then he was down, rinsing you off with scoops of warm water before fetching a large towel, ushering you out of the basin, holding out the towel to wrap around your body when you stepped out.

Then you were ushered closer to the fire, sat upon a small stool as you huddled close to the warmth, clutching the towel tightly around you. The air was quite warmer than outside, but was still cold to your wet skin.

Izuku began running his fingers through your hair, parting knots, patting sections dry with a corner of the towel. By the time he was finished, you felt warm again, face rosy from the heat of the fire.

The heat felt pleasant, like the feeling of a full belly after a long day.

You were tired, exhausted from the emotional weight you had endured. Village burned, tripping over corpses and disembodied limbs, taken captive, forced away from your fellow villagers.  Stripped down and fondled - at this point, you just wanted to sleep.

To sleep and sleep, wake up and have this all be a bad dream. Some twisted nightmare your mind conjured up while in the warmth and safety of your own home.

A large hand upon your shoulder roused you from your half-asleep state, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the quietness of the tent. You jumped, turning to find Kacchan towering over you and Izuku both.

Kacchan crouched, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your hair, then onto your cheek. “You look so fuckin’ weird.”

Izuku sputtered. “Oh my god, what he means to say, is that we’ve never seen anyone like you before. You’re… quite unique, and very um, attractive.”

You leaned away from the hand on your cheek, and Kacchan let you, red eyes blinking slowly as they scanned your features.  He was an odd man, as was Izuku. There was an obvious dynamic of power, Izuku submitting to Kacchan willingly.

“Alright, you’re dry enough, get up.” You blinked at Kacchan, processing his words, before he huffed out a breath, rising to his own feet. “C’mon, let’s go, are you stupid? Get the fuck up.”

You scrambled to your feet, towel still wrapped tightly around your body, preserving your modesty.

Kacchan’s hand shot out, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you along with him as he strode towards the back of the tent, towards the sectioned screen acting as a wall.

“Deku, make your ass useful and dump out the bathwater, will ya?”

You weren’t able to see Izuku move due to the hand forcing your head forward, but you could hear his footsteps as he hurried to do what Kacchan instructed.

Rounding the screen, it was clear to see that this was where the Barbarian King slept, a pile of cozy-looking furs strewn in a pile on the ground.

You were promptly shoved towards them, stumbling down to your knees as you lost your balance. The furs provided cushion though, soft and inviting.

But you were scared again.

It was happening, it was going to happen, you were going to raped by the King.

Turning back towards the man, you began to plead, hands securing the towel around your shoulders like a safety blanket. “Sir, please, don’t do this, why me? You can have anyone, not me, please not me.”

He ignored you in favor of beginning to strip, unfastening his cloak, removing his weapons. You decided to try and appeal using a more personal approach.

“Kacchan-“

Suddenly the man was in your face, his own visage twisted into a growl.

“Don’t you ever fucking call me that. Stupid ass Deku made that shit up when we were kids, I’m not some brat anymore. I’m Katsuki-“ He backed away from you, leaving you trembling. “-Barbarian King.”

The man resumed removing his clothes, dropping his belt to the ground, grumbling as he began to undo his pants. “Should beat his fuckin’ ass for calling me that, so goddamn disrespectful. Fuck him, stupid little ass wipe twerp-“

You tuned him out, frozen. What could you do? Another impasse where your options were none.

A strong hand gripped your shoulder, or more accurately, your towel, tugging it forcefully away from you.

“No!” You cried, trying to pull it back, to cover yourself, but the man was stronger, ripping it away before you could utter another word.

“No! Stop, please!” You tried again, finally taking in Kacc-Katsuki before you. He was naked now, aside from the paint decorating his skin. His cock was quickly hardening, plumping up with each step he took towards you as you scrambled backwards.

“Katsuk-Katsuki, I’m begging you, please don’t do this. I’ll do anything! Please just have someone else!” You sobbed, back finally meeting the wall of the tent.

Katsuki smirked, crouching down just out of your reach. “You’ll do anything? You’ll let my horde use you as a toy then?”

Dread flowed through your already fear-filled body, and you gulped thickly, eyes closing.

“No?”

Shaking your head, you started to cry silently, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“You’re already doing fucking anything.” Katsuki growled, hand shooting out to grab your ankle, dragging you down and towards him.

A high-pitched cry left you as he pulled you under him, until he was hovering over you, grinning. “Cry all you want, ain’t gonna change a damn thing. In fact-“ He surged down, until his forehead touched your own, red eyes blazing “-It just turns me on more.”

The man pulled away, a hand falling heavily around your throat, giving a compulsory squeeze before hie started moving his hand downwards, fingers skimming across your flesh.

Immediately, your own hands caught his own, trying to still their journey as they neared your breasts. Katsuki paused, a sound akin to a growl falling from his throat as his eyes flickered away from your body and up to your own eyes.

There was a threat there, a warning. Let him touch, or else. Trembling, you removed your hands, instead grabbing at the furs you rested upon. Katsuki made a gruff sound of approval, before resuming his exploration of your body.

“You’re like nothing I’vs ever seen before, know that? Like some fuckin’ alien or something, but damn, you’re gorgeous. Didn’t even know someone could look like this.” He mused, entranced as he watched his hands splay over your body, pinching at your skin, caressing your breasts, slipping over your stomach and down between your legs.

“Oh god, pleaseee-“ You sobbed out, cringing as a finger trailed down your slit.

Katsuki stilled, quirking a brow as he smiled meanly. “Please what? You wanna cum?”

“Please stop…” You whispered, eyes clenching shut again as he found your clit, giving it a few quick rubs.

The man scoffed, before quickly teasing one of his fingers into your tight hole. “Tough shit, I’ve never had whatever the fuck you are, I ain’t stopping”

His finger burned, dry and too large, and you struggled to keep from clenching down upon it in discomfort, trying to force out the intrusion. This would go easier if you relaxed, if you let him have his way. You knew that, rationally, but it was hard to make you body obey.

Katsuki prepped you quickly, fingering you open until he deemed you ready, withdrawing his fingers and crudely wiping them off upon your thigh. You twitched away at the wetness, at your own slick being cleaned off  on your skin, but Katsuki ignored you.

“Why do you look like this anyway? What the fuck happened?” Katsuki asked coarsely, shuffling off of your thighs, moving to lounge by your side, studying you.

The man seemed to be taking a break, more interested in your looks than fucking you, but you were glad for the reprieve, trying to wipe tears from your face as you struggled to think of a response.

“I-I don’t know?” You finally spoke, genuinely at a loss for how to explain your appearance.

Katsuki studied you with sharp eyes, a hand reaching down to his cock, beginning to absent-mildly pump himself while he looked you over.

“I’ve traveled through every shitty little village in the north, met with the damn piss-baby tribes of the east, I’ve ransacked the towns of spoiled nobles, and I’ve never seen anyone who looks like you.”

You sat up, subtly shuffling away from the Barbarian King while you shrugged, at a loss.

Your appearance wasn’t anything superiorly unusual, but apparently it piqued Katsuki’s interest. Yes, your skin was perhaps a bit different, but it’s not like you were inhuman.

Katuski seemed to get tired of talking though, settling further back into the furs, getting himself comfortable as he jerked himself off. You refused to look between his legs.

“Alright, whatever. Get up here.”

Pausing, you looked at him incredulously. Did he mean on his lap? His chest? You didn’t want to be anywhere near him - wouldn’t he find more pleasure with someone who was willing?

“Are you fucking deaf? C’mon, up.” He growled, patting his thigh, urging you over.

A gulp before you started moving, limbs heavy and hesitant, unwilling as you slowly crawled forward, towards the intimidating, impatient blonde.

You straddled his thighs unsteadily, swinging your leg over, trying to avoid touching his cock.

Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, you caught sight of it, the red tip, the precum making his length shine, the wrinkly, darker skin of his balls, his blond pubes.

You cringed, distaste evident upon your face, and you heard Katsuki chuckle darkly before his hands grabbed your hips, dragging you forward.

“What, don’t fucking like what you see? Am I not to your taste? I’ve fucked whorebag princesses less fussy than you. Get over yourself.” He spat, before taking a hand off your hip, reaching underneath you to line himself up as his other hand kept you lifted.

You trembled in his hold, twitching and swaying to the side, but this was unavoidable.

A gasp left your lips as he entered you, tip slipping through your folds, teasing into your wet hole, stretching you out.

Katsuki let out a groan, slowly dropping you down until he could remove his hand from his cock, returning it to your hip, guiding you to push further down. You felt disgusting, his cock sliding against your velvety insides, dirtying your walls with leaking precum.

When your sit bones rested against his upper thighs, his cock resting fully inside you, it felt impossible to breathe, your chest rising to draw in air but failing, the distress you felt upon being speared open seemingly too much for your body to handle.

“Fucking hell, you’re so tight. You got a dirty little cunt, don’t you? Feels fucking amazing.” Katsuki groaned, moving his hips minutely, relishing the grip your inside had on his cock, how warm you were around him.

“Ride me, will you? I’m getting bored down here.” He snapped after a moment, delivering a harsh slap to your rear to emphasize his words, spurring you into tentative action.

Problem is, you didn’t want to.

Your palms rested against his heated chest, eyes raising to the ceiling as your cheeks burned. This was embarrassing, you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t be an active participant in your violation. What would that make you?

“Oi, princess - I don’t got all night.“ Katsuki growled, landing a significantly more-jarring hit to rear, hard enough to make you squeak and jump, hips twitching at the sensation of his cock moving around your pussy at the movement.

Afraid of more forceful repercussions, you started to move, slowly sliding up, then down, creeping along, hoping it’d be enough to satisfy the man.

It wasn’t.

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath, before tightening his hold on your hips, planting his feet in the furs, then plunging into you with force. The sudden movement jostled you, and you fell forward with a cry, head bouncing onto Katsuki’s chest by your hands, the man groaning as he found a satisfactory rhythm.

“There we go, that’s fuckin’ nice.”

You cried into his chest, hands clutched into fists as you were bounced up and down, the led slap of skin too loud and jarring in the tent. The paint on Katsuki’s body was beginning to smear, sweat dampening his skin and letting the paint drip onto the ground, transfer to your own skin.

It was starting to feel good, make your stomach tighten, limbs tremble with pleasure instead of fear, and you hated it.

Slick sounds reached your ears, out of rhythm with Katsuki’s quick prods. It was wet, pulsing, as if someone-

Gasping breaths reached your ears, not from the man grunting beneath you.

Another round of cold fear dampened your arousal as you honed in on the sound, realizing it was coming from the other side of the screen.

Someone was on the other side of the screen, listening in to the Barbarian King taking you against your will.

A stuttered cry left you when Katsuki pushed too hard, hitting your sweet spot, making you clench and shudder, forgetting about the other person for a second.

But they were so loud, little gasps and moans, and the shlick, shlick, shlick, was getting faster and faster, it was impossible to ignore.

Should you try to tell Katsuki? Would he stop? Would he be mad? It was so disturbing, knowing someone was sitting on the other side of the screen,  jerking themselves off so obviously .

“Katsuki-Katsuki wait, oh-“ You started, quickly cut off by a series of battering thrusts against your sweet spot.

But you had to try again. “Wait, sto-o-op, wa-unh, unh, Katsuki pl-mmh!”

“Shut up, I don’t fucking care.” The man snapped, out of breath.

“But there’s-oh…. Katsuki there’s someo-“

“I don’t /fucking care/.” Katsuki reiterated, gritting his teeth. He shut you up with another perfectly placed push against your sweet spot, and a cruel spank against your already-stinging ass.

“Ow!” You yelped, clenching up.  It was clear now, that Katsuki was aware of the listener, he just didn’t mind. Maybe he got off on it, knowing someone was listening to him take apart his latest conquest.

Clenching up was the wrong response, because the Barbarian King swore, before his hips sped up, bouncing you so violently on his lap that you found it hard to breath, barely able to hang on for the ride.

“Oh…. (Y/N)….” The voice behind the screen moaned lowly, almost whispering.

It was Izuku.

You shivered, at the sound, feeling creeped out with the knowledge that the gentle, timid “interpreter” was listening. He must have returned at some point from dumping out the basin. You were feeling revolted by this entire situation, disgusted with Katsuki, Izuku, and most importantly with yourself.

Pleasure was building quickly in your stomach, zapping up into your chest, making you tingle and shake with the sensations assaulting your body.

“Sit back, fucking sit back-“ Katsuki panted, pushing at one of your shoulders to push you up, so he could see you as he fucked up into you, watch your body move, your face contorting in pleasure.

You felt like you couldn’t help it, your eyes closing, mouth falling open to let out girlish, high-pitched moans.

Your breasts were being jostled, jiggling up and down with the movement of your body, and it hurt. Hands moved to hold them, stopping their bouncing, but Katsuki appreciated the view apparently, because he groaned, pushing his head back while still trying to watch you.

“Fuck, that’s so hot. Keep touching yourself princess, keep moaning like a little slut. Let Deku know how fucking good I’m making you feel.”

Your body didn’t give you a choice, noises being pushed from your throat involuntarily as Katsuki pounded into you, red eyes trained on your frame, intense and unwavering.

An orgasm ripped through you, seemingly out of nowhere despite the steady buildup of it the past few minutes. You gasped, breathing catching in your throat, hips furiously grinding down against Katsuki’s as you rode it out, trying to stimulate your clit to intensify the feeling.

The noises leaving you were perverted; wet gasps, little squeaks and long moans as you fucked yourself onto Katsuki’s cock, previous hesitance forgotten in preference of chasing your pleasure.

Katsuki swore underneath you again, rabbiting his hips up into you in response, breathing raggedly as he neared his own release.

You were so lost in feeling the sensations in your own body, you didn’t register the stuttered groans on the other side of the screen, the speedy clicking of Izuku jerking himself through his own orgasm, the almost-silent spatter of his cum hitting the screen.

Katsuki swore once more, a vehement “Shit, shit!” before he pulled out quickly, orgasm apparently catching him by surprise, the first few warm strings of cum shooting into your warm cunt, adding to the wet mess of your own orgasm.

The rest was aimed onto the puffy lips of your slit, one of Katsuki’s hands leaving your hips to pump his cock as he gasped, hips twitching upward at the sudden temperature change from your burning heat to the air of the tent.

Then there was just the sound of three people breathing heavily, completely spent, sweaty and dirtied from sex.

Katsuki pulled you down onto his chest, chuckling breathlessly as he brought his clean hand to your head, ruffling your hair tiredly.

“Well, you’re a goddamn catch, pussy’s like a fuckin’ vice.” The crude comment made your cheeks color, but as exhausted as you were, you couldn’t find the energy to offer a rebuttal.

“I think you’re gonna stick around for a while.” Katsuki mused, and you felt your heart drop. “Yeah, you’re a keeper. Maybe if fuckface over there-“ The blond slapped at the screen “-can stop being a pervert, we could actually fuck without feeling creeped out.”  He growled, although the blonde didn’t sound irritated in the least.

A small “Sorry Kacchan” was whispered from the other side of the screen, and Katsuki laughed dryly.

“Tell you what bastard, maybe I’ll let you touch her a bit.” Katsuki said, a hand creeping down to knead at your ass. “Then you don’t have to act like a little freak. Who knows, maybe I’ll even let you fuck her if you do good translating those maps we found. Got it, you little shitnugget?”

“Mm, alright Kacchan.” Came the tired response.

You were barely awake, already drifting off on Katsuki’s warm chest, too preoccupied with the red and gold paint no doubt smearing against your cheek than with the conversation going on around you.

You could panic about that later.

#fun skunk story #srsly the air was so thicc #it made my eyes water and my stomach cramp #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #barbarian #barbarian katsuki #barbarian bakugou #tw dubcon #tw noncon #dark bakugou #kidnapping #captive #blood #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere

[uhthor]

Honestly it’s really funny how marvel set up civil war to be this huge event that would change the mcu forever only for it to……..have almost no impact?? the accords were basically forgotten except for ant-man and the wasp i think. but most heroes were still running around doing their thing with no prior permission from de UN. They also faced no consequences for either breaking the accords or not signing it at all. I mean Peter got to swing around one of the biggest cities in the world while keeping his secret identity even though one of the biggest points of the accords was registration. Hologram Ross barely tried to fight Steve and co. in infinity war although he was like the biggest advocate for the accords. T’Challa had a whole car chase in Asia with Nakia and Okoye. Tony broke the accords in the same movie he tried to force everyone to sign it. and then in every scene he appears on ever since. Marvel was so adamant about doing civil war and for what?? They couldn’t handle a proper discussion about human rights violations or world politics so they just scrapped that and focused on alien and loud colors instead. They just can’t handle things that are more grounded so I don’t know why civil war happened. We could have an actual conclusion to the cap trilogy but outdoing batman x superman even though they weren’t qualified was more important i guess

anon you hit the nail on the fucking head

civil war was dumb and always will be and the fact it was to try and beat out batman vs superman... i will NEVER not laugh. like imagine fucking up your movie like that for no reason? no disrespect to the dceu you do what you want but BvS didn’t even come close to any mcu movie at the time like why was feige so threatened?

i can’t stand rdj’s ass i swear to god can you imagine if the roles were reversed? if they said “okay we’re gonna make iron man 3 but cap and the other avengers are gonna be in it because cevans wants the same amount of screen time in your final movie, okay?” there would have been UPROAR! he would’ve done a terrence howard or some next bullshit. he’s so dramatic for NO reason and really thinks he’s the backbone of the mcu when he isn’t even tall enough to be the backbone of his own trilogy

as for the accords... i forget they exist. it was really stupid that all of team tony got off lightly after the airport battle when they are the ones that caused the most damage. vision paralysed rhodey and he just got off with no repercussions. sam got the blame. peter got blackmailed into being on team tony when all of his morals and ideals would easily put him on team cap. tony straight up tried to kill bucky many many times. everything is a mess and only team cap got faced with the consequences - all they tried to do was stop zemo and stop an influx of more winter soldiers. like? imagine if they hadn’t... ross sure as hell would’ve changed his mind about them then, wouldn’t he?

i’m glad they are a distant memory tbh because the fall out was just a shambles and wasn’t given the correct coverage it should’ve been in order to be a meaningful and purposeful plot. like mentioning it for 2 minutes in every movie is dumb as hell. it’s supposed to have been the biggest major event in the history of the avengers and their politics before thanos but it’s treated like fucking nothing lol. it’s stupid as hell! obviously the introduction of thanos wasn’t meant to be after all these major events calmed down, but they didn’t even do any of their storylines justice before they introduced him which just led to more stupid scenes in infinity war and endgame (see tony shouting at steve about them losing, yet another terrible improvisation from rdj. get your head out of your ass please fucko). serpent society you will be mourned and missed for the rest of time

anyway the only good parts about civil war are steve, bucky, rhodey, scott, sam, t’challa, zemo and the five minutes of aunt may <3 everyone else can gtfo

#liv answers #anonymous #no idea if any of this makes any sense but yeah #the accords and civil war make me so mad #fuck tony fuck ross fuck vision fuck them ALL <3 #anti tony stark #anti vision

[ppersonna]

half baked - pjm | m

baby we two distant strangers. i know you don't speak my language, but I love the way she's talking to me - love talk, wayv

↳ summary- park jimin gets a job at your bakery, and you can’t help but find yourself annoyingly attracted to the cocky man.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- park jimin x reader

↳ word count- 5.2k

↳ genre- smut, fluff

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, lightly dom!jimin, sub!reader, slight enemies2lovers, sex in a kitchen, please god don’t fuck in a kitchen its a health code violation, spanking, nipple play, cum play, fingering

↳ a/n- ahHH!HHHHhhh!H! i blame this 100% on @wwilloww​ for merely putting the idea in my head and i had to take it and run with it.  also thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ my babe/my loml for the amazing banner! i truly do not deserve u but ily so much.  and thank you to @chimoona​ @ladyartemesia​ @xjoonchildx​ @taetaewonderland​ for being the best mf squad a lady could have and beta-ing this for me! i love you all so much! i hope you enjoy silly cocky jimin!

 Two cups of flour, one and three quarters cup sugar, 2 cups of butter.

You know the recipes by heart.  In fact, one might postulate that the recipes themselves are the sole contents of your heart.  

You live and breathe baking. It is your solace and your truest love.

Which is why it is all nearly thrown into catastrophe when Park Jimin comes into the picture.

It starts on a rather busy day.  You’re hard at work in the kitchen, prepping the finished products and presenting them in neat little boxes, when your best friend and co-owner of Wake ‘N Bake, Willow, lets out a frustrated squeal..  You turn your head to find her covered head to toe in flour, making you snort as she shoots you a playfully ominous glare.

“Shut up,” she sniffs as she attempts to pat some fine dust off of her, to no avail. “I only have two hands and about fifty things to do with them at the same time.”

Your lips part to reply something equally sassy when the bell over the front door rings, notifying you of a paying customer.  Grabbing a towel, you quickly wipe off cookie debris and throw it at your best friend to do her best to clean off as she follows behind you.

You pause as you take stock of who stands there. A handsome man arrives at the cash register and peers around, presumably looking for an employee.  He is gorgeous—ethereal even and looks like someone who walked out of the pages of a magazine. His bone structure screams model, and you can’t help but feel the stirrings of desire for the beautiful stranger.

“Hi! Welcome to Wake ‘N Bake!” Willow sings cheerfully, despite being coated in baking flour.

The man eyes her with a glint of humor in his eye, and Willow’s cheeks turn a hue of pink when she remembers her current appearance.

“Hi,” he speaks. His voice is smooth like butter, and gentle. It makes you feel weak, like you’re warming in the very ovens that your pastries rise in.

“I saw your shop from down the street and I had to stop in. Your desserts look amazing.  Is the owner here by chance?”

Your smile fades as he looks around the room for someone else, someone beyond you and your best friend.

Of course.

No one believes that two young women could start and maintain their own business. Everyone assumes that some older, well-off man was at the helm while you and Willow toil for minimum wage.

Your arms cross over your body in clear displeasure.

“We are the owners.”

“Oh!”  The man looks surprised but not put off. “Awesome. I was hoping I could… talk to you about, err—… a job?”

His face is sheepish and Willow nearly coos at the sight.

Unfortunately, it appears you and your best friend have warring ideas.

“Yes!” She chimes at the same moment you dead-pan a resounding ‘No’.

Your heads spin to stare at each other—Willow’s eyes wide in disbelief and yours in annoyance.

“We need the help!” She huffs.

“We can do things on our own, like we always have,” you remind her.

Willow gestures to her flour covered clothing in desperation.

“We clearly could use help with how successful we have gotten!”

To your chagrin, she has a point. It might be nice to have someone to help in the front while the two of you manage the kitchen in the back.  It would increase your productivity by double what you’re able to do now.

But there’s something about his attitude coming in that rubs you the wrong way.  Like, he’s too pretty. Too confident. Too nice.

“What’s your baking experience?” You ask as you turn back to the hopelessly lost, yet ever eager man.

“Oh, err—,” he stutters. “I worked at my friend Jin’s restaurant. That served desserts, too?”

You shake your head in disdain while Willow claps her hands in excitement, a puff of white flour dust pluming into the air.

“Perfect! So you could do sales!?”

“Yeah! I can do sales, no problem.”

You turn your gaze back to Willow who stares at the man like he is her knight in shining armor.

“Willow?! Can I talk to you in the back?”

She knows that tone—the one that tells her you’re not pleased with her decisions. She nods once and politely excuses the both of you from the man before heading back towards the kitchen.

“What in the world is wrong with you?!” She asks the moment the swinging door closed.

“Me?!” You’re incredulous—hands flying in the air. “You’re over here trying to hire the first Joey Hot-Lips who walks in off the street!”

Willow’s anguished face falls and turns into a devilish smirk as she leans back on her heels.

“Aha! You’re attracted to him,” she notes as if she figured out the world's greatest mystery. “That’s why you don’t want him here.”

“What? No!” Your defense crumbles around you. “Did you hear him? He totally acted like he didn’t believe we could be the owners!”

“Oh, come on, that was a simple mistake and you know it!  You’re just being protective.”

You ‘humph’ a non-committal response—unable to argue.

You are protective of your bakery. It’s your combined love child with Willow. What started as a dream between cocktails with your best friend became a real brick and mortar reality.  You had been through enough trying to open it you can’t help but feel skeptical of anyone trying to get involved. Many tried to discredit your ability to maintain such a successful shop, and you’d rather continue to run it with no one else than see it fall at the hands of another.

“Just as I thought,” Willow hums. “In that case, he’s hired!”

You’re given no chance to reply—the flour-covered girl pushes through the swinging doors and announces to the handsome man that he’s hired and free to start the following day.

“Great!  Thanks!” His smile is sincere—blinding and breathtaking, and you hate how much you want to see that smile again.

He leaves as quickly as he arrived, waving goodbye as he exits the chiming door.

“Now, you need to deal with whatever issues you have about letting others into the shop,” she says pointedly, pushing a finger into your arm gently. “And whatever issues you have with wanting to bone him.”

“Willow!” You gasp. “I do not want to bone him!”

“Sure, babe. You think you can fool me but I know you too well. Just try not to fuck him in the kitchen, alright? I don’t need the health inspector up our ass.”

The next early morning starts at 4:30 am, with you elbow deep in cookie dough for a catering order.  You’ve nearly forgotten about the new employee starting until the man himself strolls into the back kitchen as if he’s worked there for years.

“Hey!” He says cheerfully, two cups of coffee in his hands. “I got you a coffee. Willow said you’re a nightmare without some in the morning.”

Your eyes narrow at the man. It’s unfair how delicious he looked so early; while you look like a frizzy mess who rolled out of bed and walked into work (which you did), he looked polished and crisp and clean. It’s infuriating as much as it’s glaringly attractive.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you pick cookie dough off your hands and pull off your plastic sanitary gloves. “Every girl loves hearing she’s a nightmare.”

He chuckles behind his steaming cup and places yours on the workbench next to you.

“Those were her words, of course. I’d never call you a nightmare.”

You easily flush, then chastise yourself for allowing him to make you feel so weak so early in the morning.

“To be fair,” he continues. “I don’t even know your name.”

“___,” you sigh as you grab the coffee and bring it to your lips. “And you?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin.”

The first sip of coffee is like a soothing hug. He somehow knew how you took your coffee—two creams and two sugars.

“I didn’t know how you liked it, so I just guessed.”

“Good guess.”

Jimin smirks and looks proud of his accomplishment.

“You seem like the type of girl who likes balance to her sweetness.”

You stare at him curiously over your own steaming paper cup, unsure of what to make of his comment.

“Good morning to the love of my life!” Comes the voice of your best friend entering through the back door.

You roll your eyes in amusement as she teeters in, peppy and perky as she always is this early.

“Oh! Hi, Jimin.”  Her cheeks turn a familiar shade of rose as she realizes he heard her. “I didn’t know you were here yet.  That’s just a… thing we say to each other every morning.”

“Cute.” Jimin smirks at you, making your stomach lift with unwanted butterflies. “Where do you want me?”

Underneath you, beside you, above you, any possibly way...

You shake your head quickly to push away the sexual thoughts of the gorgeous man taking you from any position. No, you refuse to let your mind wander there.

Willow finishes washing her hands and putting on her apron before she nods to the fridge.

“If you can get the milk, eggs, and butter out, we’ll use you for creaming.”

Your cheeks heat impossibly as Jimin smirks even wider.

“Oh, I’m fantastic at creaming.”

Your hands pause from where they massage dough while you close your eyes and breathe, before lifting to glare at your best friend who wears a faux-innocent look.

“I’m sure you are, Jimin,” she chimes virtuously, before getting to work.

The next few weeks were a haze. You’re so caught up with graduations, birthdays, weddings and major events that your time spent at the shop overtakes your time sleeping, breathing, existing in any way that isn’t baking.

Even Jimin was busy.  Despite your initial hesitancy, he was proving to be an excellent third member of your team.  He’s a pro at sales—you’re sure his good looks and the mostly female clientele helps—and he pitches in in the kitchen without fail. He even tries his hand at decorating cakes, with only one frosting-based spill.  You would never give Willow the satisfaction of telling her outright, but she made an excellent decision in hiring the dazzling man.

But it doesn’t stop your annoying heart from fluttering every time he comes close to you—rubs elbows as he helps you roll out dough or smiles at you from across the workbench as he stamps out sugar cookies.  You refuse to allow yourself any thoughts on what it would taste like to lick dough off his fingers or how he would look bending you over the countertop to take you from behind.

You only allow such thoughts at night, safely tucked into bed with your vibrator cranked to the highest setting.

It doesn’t help that Jimin solidifies himself in your life by introducing his handsome and dopey best friend Jungkook to your gorgeous and clumsy best friend Willow.  The moment they laid eyes on each other, you knew you were doomed to have Jimin in your life with or without the bakery.

And you weren’t sure how to handle that notion.

Was Jimin flirting with you simply because you were there?  He seemed to have no problem flirting with the customers.  Sure, the shop has never made more money than when Jimin works his charms and seduces women of all ages to buy the extra cookies, cannolis, and cakes—not that you watched or glared or hated every second. No, of course not. It was for the good of your business and the angry jealousy demon inside you would need to stay firmly locked away.

Except, it’s on a particularly crowded day at the shop that your jealousy gets the best of you.

You’re up front assisting Jimin by boxing and bagging the treats he rings up.

You know he’s flirtatious, but it’s when he goes the extra mile for an extra pretty girl that you lose your cool on him the moment the customers leave.  

“Do you have to eye-fuck every single co-ed that walks in this place?!”

Your hands fly up in frustration, and Jimin watches you with a soft gaze.

His silence and knowing smirk makes you continue.

“Seriously? What the fuck was that about?! You’re acting like you’re about to bend her over right here in front of us! Jesus!”

Willow hears the commotion from the back and comes forward.

“What’s going on here?” She asks suspiciously.

You point towards Jimin who maintains his poised demeanor.

“I’m reminding Jimin that work is not a place to sexually engage our customers!”

Willow rolls her eyes as she pulls her apron off and grabs her coat from the hook.

“Whatever, you’re being ridiculous. Jimin’s never been inappropriate. Plus, he’s making us a fuck-ton of money,” she sighs. “You two can close up without killing each other right?”  She eyes you in particular.

You cross your arms and huff, glancing at the clock to find you have two hours still until closing. “Why? Where are you going?”

Willow’s annoyance fades away as if it never existed.

“Jungkook is taking me to the Museum of the Printing Press!”

You can’t help but choke a laugh while she pushes your arm.

“Shush! You know how much I love them! And he totally surprised me with tickets!”

Willow can’t shake that lovesick look in her eyes and your heart melts a little. She’s your best friend and you’re thrilled she’s found someone who wants to indulge her in her nerdy fascinations.

“Go have fun, babe,” you smile sincerely. “We can take care of closing. Now, go fuck on a letterpress or whatever!”

Willow snorts and hugs you tight, bids goodbye to Jimin, and exits the store.

Now that your quick anger is gone, you feel sheepish around the man who has yet to reply to your tirade—but you refuse to stick around under his piercing gaze.

“I’ll be in the back,” you mumble under your breath before slipping into the kitchen before he can get any word in edge wise.

You spend the rest of the evening monologuing an apology as you prep ingredients for the next morning and clean your workstations.  The shop is closed, doors locked, and Jimin is somewhere at the front of the house finishing his duties.

“‘Hey, I’m sorry for the way I acted’,” you practice out loud. “Hm—no, not humble enough. ‘Hey Jimin, I was a real bitch’, too degrading?  Maybe something like, ‘Hey Chim, can I call you Chim? That was fucked up, wasn’t it? Haha.’ God!” You throw your rag down in a huff, frustrated at your inability to form a decent apology.

“You can call me Chim, if you want,” a voice speaks from behind you.

You squeak in surprise and turn around, clutching your apron in your hands as you find Jimin leaning against a wall with a smirk on his face.

“Only my closest friends call me Chim, but I think we’re close enough.”

You swallow hard and nibble at your lip.

“I’m assuming you heard that whole… thing,” you mumble anxiously.  His nod confirms that he heard your entire play-by-play of the apology you would deliver to the handsome man.

“Yeah,” he licks at his lips. “You know, you’re really cute when you’re jealous.”

“J-jealous?” You nearly trip over your own tongue.  “I wasn’t—, I’m not jealous!”

Jimin begins a slow approach towards you, striding as he keeps his sparkling eyes on yours.

“Oh?”  He quirks his head, making his soft hair fall into his face.  You desperately want to push it away, cup his cheek, kiss those ridiculously plump lips.

He can tell you’re staring at this mouth and it makes his smirk turn nearly feral.

“So, you weren’t jealous? Not a single bit?”

He inches closer and you can feel your heart tighten in your chest and your stomach twists in on itself in excitement, in nerves.

“N-no,” you whisper, unconvincingly.

“You didn’t want to be the one I was making eyes at?  The one who ‘gets bent over the counter’ as you said?”

“I—,” Jimin cuts your words short as he stands a breath away from you.

“I guess if you weren’t jealous, then I don’t have to tell you you’re the one I really want to bend over the counter.”

You’re sure your heart stops beating—positive that it will fall from its place in your ribs into your feet.  

“What?”

Jimin cups a hand to your cheek and smiles as he steps even closer.

“If you’re not jealous, then I don’t have to reassure you you’ve got nothing to be jealous over.”

Your lips run dry, throat parched as if you’ve never had a sip of water.  Jimin is standing so close to you you can feel the heat coming off of him in waves.

“Jimin—,” you breathe and he continues forward until he presses you against the countertop and crowding you into the metal and wood.

“Tell me you were jealous.”

You gulp, eyes seeking his for an answer, for any information.  Is he playing you? Does he know you’re hopelessly attracted to him?  Does he find it humorous to tease you when Willow isn’t here to insert herself into your flirting.

“I was jealous,” you admit slowly. The words are hard to release, but once they do, the floodgates open. “I wanted to be the one you flirted with.  I was jealous because I want to be the one you notice.”

Jimin smirks, then pulls your face in quickly for a heated kiss.

His lips are just as plush, just as soft as you imagined.  They’re puffy and sweet and he tastes like one of the treacle tarts you made that morning.  He must have had one with lunch, and you find yourself addicted to the way he tastes with your creations on him. You wonder what he’d taste like with your arousal coating that tender, plump mouth.

He bites at your own lip and tugs, chucking under his breath as you mewl your desire at the slight hint of pain.

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re angry like that,” he breathes as he presses his forehead to yours.  “I nearly popped a boner while you were yelling at me. I could tell you were jealous, and it made me want you more.”

It’s hard to hear him speak so candidly—it makes you groan.

“Jimin—fuck,” you sigh. “I’ve been attracted to you since you walked into this goddamn place.”

He smirks and snags your lips up in another desperate, yet quick, kiss.

“I know.  It’s why you didn’t want me to work here.”

You grumble after he pulls away, tired of the teasing and wanting nothing more than to stop talking and start doing.

“I didn’t like you because you assumed I wasn’t the owner.”

He smiles and rubs at your arms, a softer expression crossing his face.

“No, but I hoped you were.”

It’s silent for a moment and you let his words wash over you as he continues.

“I was attracted to your authority.  I could tell you were important here somehow, just didn’t know in what way.”

You swallow your growing guilt.  You had clocked Jimin entirely wrong.

“Jimin, I’m sorry,” you start.

“Hey, hey, I already heard your apology, remember?” He smiles.  “Although, I could think of a great way to mend the wounds if you’re interested.  No pressure.”

His soft smile becomes a devilish grin instantly and your body lights with instant arousal.

“What did you have in mind?”

His lips press to yours again and you nearly lose yourself completely in his embrace.  Your arms circle his neck and he holds you tight at your waist, before pulling away from you, yet again.

“I happen to be very good at creaming, if you’ll recall.”

You can’t hold back a snort of laughter, that quickly gets covered by Jimin’s hot lips, one’s he will not pull away from you any time soon.

“You want to, right here?” You ask as he trails a hot line down your throat.

“Yeah, do you?”  

You vaguely remember Willow’s threat of not fucking in the kitchen, but find you can’t seem to care an ounce.

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

Jimin needs to hear no more.  He pulls you close and kisses you with the remaining amounts of pent-up passion and emotion he feels for you.  He’s grown to love the way you take charge, the way you move through the building like you own the place—because you do.  He loves the power you radiate and wants nothing more than to make you give up that power for a single night, to him.

“You wanna do this… all the way?” He asks, re-assuring himself that he’s not throwing himself at his boss.

“I want you, Jimin.  I want you to bend me over this workbench and fuck me until I’m crying for more.  Please.”

He grins and lays a hand on your neck, fingers tracing the gentle lines.  

“I might not let you boss me around,” he warns.

“Take control.”  Your eyes are blazing with need.  It makes him smile, and he gives the moment a slight pause.

“Then, get on your knees and show me just how sorry you are for yelling at me.”

You’re sinking to your knees quicker than you can comprehend.  Jimin is almost thrown at how instantly you caved and submitted to him.  He watches as your eyes stay fixed on his and your hands work at the button of his tight jeans.  

“That’s right,” he murmurs.  “Right where you belong.  No one else.”

You preen—heart warming at the idea that you’re the only one he wants kneeling before him and tugging his cock out of its confines.  

It springs forward, and it pulls your gaze from Jimin’s magnetic eyes.  It’s long and thick, just like you suspected all those nights with your vibrator stuffed where he should be.  Your mouth waters at the sight and you lean towards it to mouth at it gently—pressing soft open-mouth kisses to the tip.

“Oh, shit,” Jimin gasps.  Your fiery mouth feels like heaven on his cock.  It’s something he’s equally dreamed about—spent many nights fisting his cock to the thought of you.

You take your time, licking tiny stripes around the head and down the shaft, until Jimin becomes weary of the teasing.

“Please, take it all.”  His request is so genuine, so needy, that you’re loath to deny him.

He slips into your mouth with ease, slicked up just enough by your trailing kisses that he slides in and hits the back of your throat in seconds.  His eyes close as he feels his cock-head hit the back of your throat—a tighter and more constricting feeling in your already impossibly tight mouth.  It feels like absolute bliss, and he’s gasping for air after mere moments of you holding him inside your mouth to the hilt.

He doesn’t need to speak; you know what to do.  Your mouth works him in and out, tongue swirling around any open real estate of his cock.   His moans echo around the tile of the kitchen walls and he’s sure that the sight of you on your knees with his cock disappearing in and out of your mouth will have him cumming in no time.  

He steels himself, makes his body behave because he wants to enjoy this and the way you feel.  As good as your mouth feels, he’s desperate to know what it’s like to slide into that cunt he’s spent too many nights dreaming about.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines as you make delicious, slurping noises from the gathering saliva.  It’s a wet squelching sound that makes him even harder than what he believes is possible—all blood in his head now completely rushed to his dick for his pleasure.

“B-Babe!” He calls as he feels his balls tightening.  He doesn’t want to cum, not yet.

He grips your head by the scalp of your hair and pulls you off his cock that is seconds away from losing control.

“Please, I’ve got to fuck you,” he nearly begs.

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand and smirk, licking the tip of his cock teasingly before standing up to his full height.

Jimin’s hands fly to your expensive leggings that you insist on wearing to work while he kisses you.  The kiss is feverish, frantic. It’s full of tongue and teeth and desperate moaning against each other as he pushes down the pants and delicate panties, and cups your cunt in one hand.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper against his mouth as the pad of his finger slides against your clit.

“You’re fucking soaked.  All from sucking my cock?”  He’s cocky and sucks a mark onto your neck as he massages the bundle of nerves.

“Don’t be arrogant now,” you warn with a smile.

He presses his tongue to your ear and licks a stripe and chuckles.

“I think you like it when I’m arrogant. Your pussy sure seems to like it.”

He emphasizes his words by slipping two fingers into your channel and fucks into you, scissoring you open.  He cuts off any chance for you to retort by launching his lips back to yours and prowling around your mouth with his tongue.

His fingers are small but fill you so deeply, and you’re sure his hand is drenched with your arousal.

“J-Jimin, please,” you gasp as you pull your mouth away to breathe in deep.  “Please, just fuck me already.”

He growls into your ear.  

“I thought I told you you’re not in charge.”

He spins you easily until your back is pressed to his chest.  He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts, throwing the shirt away and quickly making work of your bra clasps to join the shirt on the floor.

His hands cup your full breasts and you can’t help but whimper at the feeling of his soft and warm hands.  He feels so good against the chilled skin of your chest and he tweaks and thumbs your nipples until they stand perky and erect.

“I’ve always wanted to bend you over this counter,” he muses in your ear as he pulls a nipple harshly.  It makes you squeak out at the pain, then moan as the pain turns into a sizzling, pleasurable spike that runs through your veins.

“Every time I would catch you staring at me, I just wanted to fuck your cute little throat until you were gagging around me.”

Your eyes close as he continues his abuse on your perky nipples and whispering his deepest thoughts about you.

“I wanted to lift your cute dresses and eat your cunt until you’re wailing loud enough all the customers can hear.”

“Jimin,” you nearly cry.  “Please, fuck me.”

You can feel his hardness lining up behind you, rubbing at your sodden folds to cover his length in your slick juices.

“I like it when you beg.”

He kisses at the juncture of your neck before letting his teeth graze over the spot and bites down—right as he pushes your face down to the workbench and slides his cock into your spread heat.

He bottoms out easily.  You’re soaking wet and he buries himself to the hilt in one fluid motion.  He groans out loud—stunned by the heat and wetness of your pussy and how tight it grips him.

“Oh, holy shit,” he gasps as he gives himself and you a moment.  His hands grip at your waist, one hand coming to rub the tender skin of your supple ass.

“Jimin, fuck, you’re so big,” you whine.  

He brings his hand up, then slaps it down on your ass hard, hard enough that the crack echoes around the large kitchen.  You cry out in delight, in pain, as the reverberation of the stinging wraps around you.

“Fuck, you take me so well, princess,” he whines as he sets a pace.  Your ass meets his hips and claps with each thrust, and he punctuates every few pumps into you with another hard slap to your ass.  He wants you screaming his name, crying out for him loud enough that the neighbors know who he is.

He’s relentless in his pumps—gripping your hips tight as he fucks you deep and senseless.  Your eyes roll back into your head at how well he works your body.  Your tits rub raw against the wood of the workbench and you’re weeping fat tears of pleasure as Jimin continues his plight.

“God, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warns.  “Cum on my cock, princess.”

You slide a hand down to your clit, eager to add the ultimate piece to what makes you unravel.  He grins and pumps into you harder, slaps your ass repeatedly until he knows it’s going to leave bruises.

“That’s right, baby, rub that pretty little clit,” he urges.  “God, I can’t wait until you you sit on my face and let me eat this fucking cunt for hours.”

You blubber a response of desire, nearly begging him for more and more, as you swirl your fingers around the tight bundle.  You’re peaking towards the summit of your climax, ascending to a point you’ve never gone before.

“Fuck, Chim!” You scream. “Gonna cum!”

Your warning falls on deaf ears—you’re cumming and pulsating around his thickness instantly and Jimin moans mix with your own to create a symphony of pleasure.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos.  “Your cunt is so good to me, baby.  Mmph—let’s frost this cake, now.”

Instantly, he’s groaning as he pulls his cock free from the vice-grip of your cunt and jerks himself twice to completion, allowing his hot seed to splatter against the tender flesh of your ass where he’s left a clear print of his hand.   The warmth soothes the battered skin and you shake your ass teasingly as he continues to stroke himself through his climax.

“Ohhhhh, my god,” he breathes as he finally comes down from his high.

Your face is resting on the cool surface of the wooden workbench as your breathing slowly settles back to normal.

“That was fucking good,” you whisper with a smile.  Jimin bends down to press soft kisses to your spine, before grabbing a towel to gently clean his cum off your beaten ass.

“Willow’s going to kill you for fucking me in the kitchen,” he warns with a laugh as he kisses the same spot he came on.

“It takes two to bake a cake, buddy,” you tease.

He laughs and brings a hand down to your untouched asscheek, making you squeal with delight.

“That’s not how the saying goes, but sure, doll.”

The next morning, you’re hard at work making a five-tiered wedding cake with Willow at your side, when Jimin throws open the door.

“Good morning to the loves of my life!”

Willow chokes on her own air while you hide a giggle behind your cake covered hand.

Jimin approaches the pair of you while she splutters and gasps.

“What?”  What happened last night after I left?”

Your cheeks heat and Jimin wears a face of pure cockiness.

“Oh my god,” Willow gasps as her eyes open wide, snapping your tender ass with her rag.  “You did NOT fuck in my kitchen!”

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

taglist -  @preciouschimine​ @nyamjinnie​ @unicornnomore​ @bangtansbun​ @theneighborhoodfangirl​ @cyberbunny21​

#bts smut #bts jimin #bts park jimin #park jimin smut #bangtanarmynet #jimin smut #bts fluff #bts au #bts alternative universe #bts jimin smut #heartsforbtsnet #ficswithluv #bangtan smut #bangtan jimin #park jimin #bts imagines #bts fics

[falling-pages]

A bird? A bird: Hikaru x Haruhi

in which drunk Hikaru is a mood.

-

Hikaru Hitachiin x Haruhi Fujioka

-

Enemies to lovers, non-host club au, aged up au.

-

TW: Drinking

-

The disgust lingered in the back of his throat like iron, like a bad pill you swallow but not fast enough. He fumbled the chaser to his liquor, and now he was stuck with the gross aftertaste. The refuge of his office, where he gulped down air like water, could only last so long. He couldn’t even go out in the common area, break room or restroom without having to see her--and for that, for taking away his freedom and social butterfly antics, he hated her.

Every time he saw her cute little snarl and tight little bun and stiff black skirts enraged him, filling his blood with a heat he didn’t know how to deal with. Despite her short height, she held her nose in the air as she worked, the only way she could look down on everyone like she so desperately craved. Always propping up her law degree, well this and actually that, ruining any jokes he made with a deadpan stare. She messed with his head, distracted him from his work, and for that she must go.

As much as he had tried to get her fired--and he had tried--nothing made the boss budge. He tried pulling rank, as the head of the software department; he tried using his parents’ names; nothing worked.

She’s doing a stellar job, the bossman had said. And, she’s our lawyer. If we did fire her for no reason, she would sue us into the ground.

I do have a reason, Hikaru retorted. She annoys me.

It wouldn’t hold up in court, but it seemed good enough for him.

Hikaru inhaled deeply through his nose, grounding himself by gripping his desk. Surrounded by all his trophies and achievements, he still could only think of her. He had to handle this, or else he’d go insane, but he had no idea where to start.

Kaoru. Kaoru would know what to do.

He rose from his chair, taking one last look behind him at the stained glass city through his clear glass window. Despite it only being mid-afternoon, the city was pulsing and alive with color, birds dive-bombing for food, vendors hawking at passersby, tourists mixing and bumping into natives. Tokyo was loud, and crazy, and alive, where he knew he belonged and longed to be. Even nature was straining at its leash for the workday to end, eager to celebrate the Friday night.

He turned back and shut the lights off in his office, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked. His department was rather quiet, having given his employees the afternoon off. If Haruhi knew, she would chide him, but they were so far ahead of schedule that he couldn’t risk them burning out.

Once up the stairs and around the corner, he heard his brother’s voice laughing and chatting and speak of the devil, she’s here.

It shouldn’t have surprised him. Karou and Haruhi were surprisingly great friends; he tended to mellow her out, help her unwind from the stick up her ass. He just had that calming effect on people.

As soon as he saw her, Hikaru spun a 180 and turned right back around the corner, and Haruhi would have let him, but Karou intervened.

“Hika! Come over here!” he waved, a bright smile splitting his face. “Haruhi was just telling me how much she liked you!”

Haruhi seethed, switching to a guarded pose as soon as she saw him. “I certainly was not.”

“Oh, right, my bad, she was telling me how much she liked your latest game patch,” Kaoru apologized, but it was the furthest thing from sincere. “Tell us about how you came up with it. Haruhi would love to pick your brain.”

Hikaru smirked, testing the waters as he approached. “Is that true, Fujioka?”

She frowns, pushing her bridge up her glasses up her nose. God, those glasses. She looked so dumb in them, making her eyes seem so wide, so innocent, so...pretty. All he wanted to do was pluck them off her face and laugh as she jumped for them, reaching and whining.

“I mean, it’s original, for sure,” she said. His cheeks warmed at the praise, even as she squirmed. “And it should market well, and you didn’t infringe on anyone’s copyright this time.”

That wasn’t my fault. He took the compliment with a grain of salt, biting back, “Still in the whole get-up, I see. Not much for casual Fridays?”

As amber eyes raked down her body, Haruhi concealed the shiver that ran down her spine. “No, actually, because I didn’t go to law school to wear jeans every day at work.”

“You didn’t go to law school to become a smartass, either, but here we are.”

“OKAY!” Kaoru exclaimed, jumping up between them. “Friday afternoon, yeah? Any big plans for the weekend?”

Both instigators ignored him. “That’s the uniform, you know. We tend to be pretty laid back around here.”

“Lawyers can’t be laid back. Laziness and a laissez-faire attitude is how we get sued.”

Hikaru stretched, rolling his eyes. “Woah, woah, pardon your French.”

Haruhi shook her head, and a few mismanaged strands of hair fell from her bun to brush against her neck. Her pink lips perched in contempt, and she looked so fragile, squinting behind her thick-framed glasses, that he couldn’t help but notice how tight her shirt was, tucked into a pencil skirt that hugged so tastefully over her--

“Hika!” Kaoru suddenly exclaimed. “Honey wants to know if we’re still down for drinks tonight.”

His saving grace. “Oh, my God, yes,” he moaned, salivating already at the thought of tequila burning down his throat. Washing the week away was just what he needed, especially with the way this conversation was going.

And then Kaoru did the unthinkable: With his award-winning smile, he turned to Haruhi and asked, “Would you like to come?”

Hikaru could have strangled him.

But God heard his prayers, and the resident buzzkill shook her head. “Thank you, but sorry. I don’t drink.”

“No surprise there,” Hikaru murmured.

Kaoru definitely heard that, but if Haruhi did, she didn’t react. He shot his twin a look, a be polite etched into the lines of his brow.

“Sad,” Kaoru said. He bent over to pick up his work bag, stuffing his bento within and waving to Haruhi. “Maybe next time? We can go out for boba or something.”

Haruhi smiled--Hikaru didn’t think he had ever seen that before. It did something to him; suddenly, he felt as if his body was shaking, like his throat was full of needles, like he had taken one too many to the head.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she said, and the smile disappeared when she looked at him. She gave them both a quick nod. “Have a great weekend.”

“Thanks.”

“See you Monday!”

Hikaru waited until they were out the door before punching his twin in the arm, hard enough to make him yelp.

“Dude, watch it,” Kaoru snapped, brushing over the mussed fabric of his cardigan sleeve. “It’s cashmere.”

“Stop flirting with her.”

Kaoru stopped in his tracks. A cloudy sky obscured the smirk on his face. “Woah, what’s got you so worked up?”

Hikaru kept stomping towards their subway stop, too lost in his own anger to notice who he had left behind. “‘M not worked up,” he retorted. “But you’re dating Kyoya. You shouldn’t be flirting with a girl.”

Kaoru skipped to catch up, joining him as they descended the stairs. “Kyoya said it’s fine if I flirt, as long as I come home to him every night.”

It took everything in Hikaru to keep him from shoving his brother into the sad, drab gray stone walls. He couldn’t put a finger on the irritation nettling just below his skin, or why the first layer of his heart seemed to simmer whenever he caught them talking to each other. All he could figure out was that it burned, and it made him hate her even more.

When he stayed silent, Kaoru knew he was right. He preened as he dug around for his subway card. “Boba isn’t a date.”

“Of course it is.”

“Then maybe you should ask her out on one.”

By then they were at the platform, waiting for their train. As the whistle signaled its approach, Hikaru very seriously considered pushing Kaoru onto the tracks.

“Tch. Over my dead body.”

“Then you can’t be jealous.”

“I’m not--”

Hikaru threw a punch when the train approached, distracting him and allowing Kaoru to live to see another day. As they hurried on, Hikaru couldn’t get his mind out of the gutter--or off her.

Jealous. Pshhh.

-- - -- -- - -- - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I dunno, senpai, she just….she makes me feel something. Whenever she talks to me it’s like my hands are on fire, and my head hurts, and I feel like….like she’s stabbing me. There’s something going on in my chest, like a, like a--a bird. There’s a bird or a butterfly or something with wings in my stomach, and I don’t like it.”

Hikaru knocked back a shot and signaled for another one, eyes bleary as he tried to find the bartender. There were three of them, or maybe that was just how blurry his vision was, but he didn’t care; as long as one of them saw him and passed him another round, he’d tip them the moon.

Mitsukuni watched his friend wave to no one, the effect of one too many fireballs in the span of just two hours. He hadn’t seen Hikaru this hammered since college--and now, at 27, it just looked more like a cry for help than an occasion to let loose. And without Kaoru, who had already gone home with Kyoya and the rest of their friend group, on babysitting duty, Mitsukuni was the one left to make sure he got into a cab.

“A bird?” he asked, watching as Hikaru swung his head in confirmation.

“A bird.” A bartender came back with another shot, handing it to the redhead and giving Mitsukuni a questioning look. He waved at him, confirming he was the babysitter, and the waiter turned back around.

“Tell me about that.”

Hikaru gripped his cup, tonguing at the rim like a sippy cup. “It’s fluttering around, Honey. It’s--hiccup--like, moving. Whenever I see her or talk to her my heart just begins to pound.”

Mitsukuni bit back a smile. His vodka cran lay forgotten on the bar, but this experience was just too amusing to violate with alcohol. “And what do you think that means?”

“Means she’s gonna kill me.”

“Kill you?” His eyebrows shot up. “Why is that?”

Hikaru slurped the shot, spilling some down his chin, and Mitsukuni was fairly sure it was just plain water. “Because. She’s mean, senpai. She looks at me like she’s studying, like she’s gonna slice me in half. Like...I dunno. Like I mean something to her.”

Mistukuni twisted his wedding ring, inching closer to the discovery. He’s almost there, almost recognizing what the rest of the friend group has known for months. “And if you mean something to her, why does your heart flutter?”

“Acid reflux.”

“No, Hikaru.” He gently swatted the other man’s hand down before he could ask for another drink. “It sounds like the beginnings of love, to me.”

Hikaru gaped, not a thought behind those eyes, until it hit him like a wrecking ball. His fist fell to the bar, thudding, but he felt no pain. Only existential dread and a rocketing realization.

“Oh.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh, fuck.”

-

If you like what I write, please considering buying a coffee :)

#ouran high school host club #hikaru x haruhi #hikaharu #hikaru hitachiin #haruhi fujioka #enemies to lovers #ohshc

[bouncyirwin]

So after reading Knock Knock, Let the Devil in again (I can’t praise you enough with how good that story is ♥️) and I’m so invested in the the dynamic between Shikamaru, Sakura, and Kakashi!

And because I have a question (and I hope I’m not bothering you by asking this 😭) how do you think Kakashi and Shikamaru would react if Sakura either came back from a mission seriously injured or if they found her seriously injured from a mission?

Hiii, thank you so much for this ask, I’m always so ready to gush about these three!

When I read this ask, inspiration quite literally slammed into me and I churned this out in a sprint session. Oops.

Word Count: 2,126 words

I present to you a one-shot in the knock knock-verse.

It was too early in the day to function, yet Shikamaru was in the Hokage’s office bustling about, feeling only half-human as he guzzled on his third coffee. “Fuckin’ paperwork,” he muttered disdainfully at the sight of an ungodly pile marked with his name.

That had to violate some natural law. How this became Shikamaru’s routine was beyond him.

Once upon a time, he professed that his deepest wish was to lead a mediocre life. And here he was.

Tsunade showed up ten minutes late, visibly drunk and doing very little to conceal it. “Morning,” she tossed over her shoulder and made a beeline for the coffee machine.

“Hokage-sama,” Shikamaru said, studying the dark circles under her eyes and her ashen pallor. “You look …”

He clamped his mouth shut. Was it worth getting assigned a D-rank to let her know she looked like shit? Probably not.

“Save it kid, I know,” she waved a casual hand and slumped in her chair. “Couldn’t care less with the night I pulled.”

“Drinking again, Hokage-sama?” he inquired with polite interest.

“Ha,” she said. “I wish.”

When he raised an eyebrow, she elaborated, slumping even further in her chair. “Sakura,” she pinched the bridge of her nose. “They brought her back yesterday.”

Shikamaru’s heart sank. “Brought her back?”

“Yes, there was an ambush and she was badly injured—cracked every one of her ribs, that idiot. And the hospital was out of B-positive blood so Shizune had to sit the healing session out to donate blood. Nearly ran myself dry trying to keep her breathing…” Tsunade was scrubbing at her face but Shikamaru wasn’t listening anymore—he could barely hear her over the deafening roar of his heartbeat.

“Is she alive?” he demanded once he found his voice. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yes, but she’s going to need plenty of rest—” the rest of her sentence remained a mystery for Shikamaru tore out of the room with a single-minded focus.

In the space between heartbeats, rationality was tossed out of the window. It left behind a desperate and half-crazed person—he needed to see her, to hear her heartbeat, to see the lively green of her eyes and he wasn’t going to rest until it happened.

He burst through the hospital doors undoubtedly looking like he’d escaped an asylum. The nurse he cornered shot him a bewildered look. “Sir, are you—” she began to say when he cut her off.

“Haruno Sakura,” he demanded breathlessly. “Her room. Where can I find her?”

“Sir,” she attempted again, sounding a little exasperated. “Haruno-san just underwent extensive surgery, she’s not allowed visitors, only family members can see her.”

Shikamaru pinned her with a no-nonsense look. “Akane-san,” he read off her name tag. “By order of the Hokage, I’m here to see Haruno Sakura.”

Akane shuffled nervously. “Do you have an official slip?”

He arched an eyebrow at her, as if to say ‘really?’.

“I-I might get in trouble,” her eyes shifted unsurely. “I need to put you down as a relative and you’re… what would I mark you down as, sir?”

It occurred to him a second later that he was being a total ass. But rationality had already fled. He was now a mess of frayed nerves.

The toddler bawling in the background wasn’t helping his case, and neither was the frantic husband demanding to see his wife at the reception, babbling about … oh.

Shikamaru turned back to the nurse, and before he realised what he was saying, he blurted. “Her husband. Mark me down as her husband.”

Akane blinked. “Oh.”

Shikamaru stared her down, daring her to argue with him. But she simply nodded and scribbled something on her chart. “Right. Of course. Follow me.”

As they stalked through clinical hallways, Shikamaru’s heart rose in a crescendo, worry and nervousness swirling in his chest in a toxic mix. What would he see upon reaching her room? Was she in pain? Was she even lucid? Gods, what if she was in a coma? What if she’d hurt herself so irreparably that it cost her career?

His mind raced with sickly thoughts until his stomach roiled and his face tinged green.

Akane stopped at room 217 and there she was.

“Oh gods,” Shikamaru whispered.

She was hooked to so many wires. Oxygen tubes and an IV and a heart monitor and tubes he didn’t even recognise. She looked frail and broken, too small amidst white sheets and beeping monitors.

He heard Akane quietly slip out of the room and was glad for it because his knees nearly buckled.

Sakura wasn’t awake. Hell, she didn’t even look alive, her face so pale where it wasn’t bruised blue and purple.

Numbly, his feet carried him to her side, his breath a short and rapid thing that barely saturated his lungs.

There was blood caked beneath her fingernails and in the cracks of her lips. His eyes stung faintly as they slid over to the heart monitor.

It was too slow.

“Oh god,” he said again, every cell in his body congested with fear.

He was afraid to even reach out and touch her, lest she broke apart under his fingertips. Delicately, ever so delicately and with trembling fingers, he ghosted a light stroke across the apple of her cheek.

“Sakura…” he said feebly, wishing her eyes would just open.

Except they didn’t. And her heart monitor droned on sluggishly in the background, crawling heartbeats that served more in adding to his anxiety than diminishing it.

It was beating. But it wasn't beating enough. What if it stopped beating?

Shikamaru wasn’t prepared. She wasn’t allowed to die. Not yet. Not ever. He didn’t care what laws governed this cursed world, this was Sakura, she was spring incarnated, and she wasn’t allowed to die.

His fingers curled around her hand, and he wished for the first time in his life that he could heal. That he could bleed strength into her the way she did to him.

It was getting difficult to breathe. What if she died?

What then?

Fuck, he hadn’t even told her he loved her.

His vision swam, rendering the room a splash of colours and pink. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t breathe.

In the muddled daze of anxieties and fears, Shikamaru wished he had the foresight to grab Kakashi.

He’d never needed an anchor more than he did in that second.

*

Kakashi was having an incredibly shitty day.

His coffee machine broke down, he spilled tea over his mission report and he mixed a black shirt with his coloured laundry and now half of his clothes were beyond repair.

“Dammit,” he sighed, tossing his book aside. He couldn’t even read, busy as he was dwelling on his ruined laundry.

He took one dispassionate look at his soggy report and groaned. “What a mess,” he’d actually attempted to do this one on time. Served him right for breaking his routine.

Kakashi grabbed his weapons holster and stepped out for some much needed air. Maybe he should just turn in a tea-flavoured report—perhaps if he offered Tsuande a bottle of sake she’d make an exception and accept it.

He made a beeline to her office, remembering he was due for a debrief. But what he found upon his arrival wasn’t what he expected.

Tsunade was shouting to Shizune, clearly exasperated: “—and he just upped and left! I’m his Hokage, and he upped and left!”

“Maah…” Kakashi began unsurely.

Tsunade’s gaze cut to him. “Hatake, there you are,” she huffed. “I’m too fucking hungover for this. We’re one man down, I need someone to look over these reports.”

Kakashi frowned, finally noticing how empty her office looked. “Where’s Shikamaru…?”

“The idiot left,” Tsunade growled, raising goosebumps on his arms. “I told him I spent all night healing her, what did he think, that I’d leave her to die? Fucking hell.”

“Leave who to die?” Kakashi said, confused. “What happened?”

“Sakura happened,” Tsunade ranted tiredly. “They brought her back almost half dead, I’ve been patching her up for the better part of eight hours and this is how I’m rewarded.”

But Kakashi had stopped listening after ‘half dead’. Half dead? “Half … dead?” he echoed, his mouth dry.

No. This wasn’t happening.

This wasn’t happening.

“Yes,” Tsunade sighed. “But I operated on her and she’s going to be fine.”

Kakashi barely heard the words. His brain was a string of very adamant denial. No, no, no, no.

He didn’t want it to be true—all those years he had been certain, was so sure that it was him, that he was the reason the people he loved always died. That he was a curse to those he cared about.

Every person he loved came back in a body bag.

Fuck.

Kakashi turned tail, a sudden manic urge to see her rising unbearably in his chest. What if Tsunade was lying, what if Sakura wasn’t fine? What if she was fine, but she died anyway?

Fear pumped through his veins, rendering him dizzy. This was his worst nightmare come to life—how could he have forgotten that people, even those that could mend bones and heal what was broken, were so damn breakable?

His legs couldn’t carry him quickly enough.

He didn’t waste time interrogating the nurses for her whereabouts, he knew her scent like she was a part of him. It led him to her now, her unique sweetness tainted with blood and antiseptic.

Gods, he was going to be sick.

He nearly ripped the door off its hinges in his haste to get to her.

Shikamaru was already there, looking wrecked, looking worse than Kakashi had ever seen him. “Is she—”

He couldn’t even say it.

“They … they said they don’t know when she’ll wake up,” Shikamaru whispered hollowly.

Kakashi felt the ground crumbling beneath his feet. “No,” he whispered, leaning back against the wall when he teetered off balance.

His hip jarred against the doorknob but Kakashi barely registered the sting. Barely anything registered beyond the fear-terror-fear coursing through his veins like poison. “Please, no,” he said.

This couldn’t be happening again.

His father and Obito and Rin and Minato-sensei—hadn’t they been enough? Was Sakura going to be another name on the too long list of losses that haunted him?

He really was going to be sick. He clenched his jaw against the reflex, forcing his brain out of the dizzying tornado of anxieties. His gaze focused on Shikamaru, the only other person that mattered as much.

He didn’t look good at all, pale and shaking and appearing ready to fall apart.

The sight of him was strangely grounding.

Kakashi found his elusive strength, located his knees under him and was at his side in the next second.

“Shikamaru,” he rasped, clutching the other man’s arm.

“She looks dead,” Shikamaru whispered. “I … I …”

Words eluded him.

Kakashi tugged at his arm, drawing Shikamaru against him. He went without a fight, slumping against Kakashi’s chest like a puppet whose strings were cut.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kakashi lied, surprised by how much conviction he could bleed into it when it was for someone else’s benefit. “She’s going to be fine.”

Shikamaru shook in his hold, his shoulders minutely trembling. But just as suddenly, his body calmed down and he gripped tightly onto Kakashi’s middle. “What if she isn’t?”

“She will be,” Kakashi stressed because … anything else was not an option. “It’s Sakura. She punched a goddess in the face.”

Shikamaru let out a short, pained laugh against him. “Gods, don’t remind me; what a reckless idiot.”

“It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Kakashi confessed in a soft murmur against Shikamaru’s hair. He tightened his hold on him, drawing strength from the warmth of his body. “As beautiful as the two of you together.”

Lean fingers dug in his back. “I’m glad you’re here,” Shikamaru said sincerely. “I’m glad you came. Fuck, I think I’m gonna cry.”

“You can cry,” Kakashi soothed, sinking his fingers in lush, dark hair. “Hell, I might cry.”

Shikamaru let out a wet chuckle. “Yeah.”

Kakashi’s face bowed, nuzzling the side of his head as he took a shuddering breath. He clutched Shikamaru closely, his breath shallow and his heart a warbling mess in his chest.

He couldn’t think about if she died. He would die, then, if not from sorrow then from a broken psyche. It was easier to focus on the beeping machines and Shikamaru’s sure, thudding heart. Kakashi tuned in on every shuddering breath, his palm mapping his expanding ribs.

His focus narrowed down to his senses, to Shikamaru, to Sakura’s fighting, beating heart and prayed like he never had before.

She was going to be alright.

She had to be.

#bouncyirwin writes #kakasakushika #kakasaku #shikasaku #kakashika #naruto #angst #hurt/comfort #knock knock let the devil in #sakura haruno #kakashi hatake #Shikamaru nara