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sanjisblackasswife · 2 years

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OP Men With a Girlfriend with a Fat Ass. (Black Fem! Reader)

Ft. Monster Trio, Kid, Law, Ace, & Shanks

A/N: Yeah boobs are great…but nobody talks about anime dudes loving ass like commonnnnnnnnn. + I think women in OP don’t have big butts. Like…they have the tits sure and Ik they have A FORM of a butt but like…they ain’t got a fat asssssss

CW: A whole lotta nonsense.

Luffy

You are the sole reason he is a butt guy rather than a boob guy

He likes having you walk in front of him for obvious reasons

He doesn’t realize how much he stares though it’s kinda just subconsciously a thing he does with no shame behind it

Your butt has a literal mind of its own when you walk and it’s just mesmerizing to him

He never touches it though

On purpose

When Luffy hugs you he mostly enjoys wrapping his arms around your hips and thighs and lowers himself to pretty much hug your butt with his face

You remember when Luffy had to hide under Boa’s coat and his body was wrapped around her body—-yeah like that that’s how he hugs you from behind

It’s so soft pls let him bite it.

There was a few times you caught him staring and he’d laugh it off scratching the back of his head before you almost scold him for not paying attention as you talked

If you both are sexual in your relationship your ass is something he holds dear when sleeping with you.

Luffy grinds on ur soft and plush butt while you both are sleeping, at first you couldn’t sleep because of this but you’ve somehow gotten used to his erratic thrust against your ass

When you lay on your stomach and watches you shift just to see your butt jiggle

He’s so amazed on how it still moves even after you stopped shifting

All in all Luffy loves dat ass.

Zoro

Ass eater fasho

Look at him.

Booty Hunter Zoro

He loves the booty more than anything else on you.

He was actually shocked on how fat your ass really was when you stood naked in front of him the first time KSHSSHS

You always wore jeans and they were so so tight (still looked good in them though) he just didn’t register HOW BIG your butt really was

“Fuck, you have a fat ass, babe.”

HE SLAPS IT SO HARD

And he SLAPS IT ALOT so be prepared

He doesn’t care either how much it hurts he loves watching it jiggle afterwards

Like sir excuse me you left a mark

Absolutely sleeps on it when you both nap.

Zoro is another one that just stares at you when you walk across the ship

Lord help you if you wear a sun dress

You have almost all thongs so when you wear looser clothing your butt is free to move how it likes

Makes you do mostly leg workouts to watch you squat

Swears you’re doing it wrong just to be behind you when you do it

“No, Y/N you have to go lower like this.”

“Get Ya dick Off me!”

He does ask you such stupid ass questions about it though

“So it’s not heavy when you fight?”

“Zoro what the hell are you talking about.”

“All of…that you’re carrying behind there.”

Mf…

Sitting on his face or eating it from the back once is a must if you want to use his mouth

“Imma suffocate you.”

“It’s okay i can hold my breath really long.”

Zoro is a Ass man and you just made it worse so congratulations

Kid

Same as Zoro. Eats dat ass for breakfast, lunch, and dindin

He enjoys watching you put on pants

“Something you need?”

“Just enjoying the show.”

He thinks your butt is nothing but temptation and something to distract him

Blames you for it completely because how dare you.

“PUT THAT AWAY!”

“WHAT?!”

“THAT BUTT OF YOURS I CANT FOCUS WITH IS SHAKING IN MY FACE ALL DAY—“

“HELLO—?!”

He has caught Killer watching. Killer tries to say he wouldn’t know because of his mask, but he know he’s looking right at your butt sway back and fourth

He uses it as a stress ball sometimes KSBSJSKS

Actually compares your butt with his

“Mine is bigger.”

“You mean flatter.”

“I hate you.”

Sanji

Definition of “Don’t know what to do with all that ass.”

When he first met you he of course adorned your beauty. Granted you always worn baggier clothing than the rest of the girls on the ship, since you were a bit heavier and insecure Sanji didn’t give af about that anyways he still liked you, but after the 2 years you loss some weight and gained the strength and confidence you always deserved and finally started to wear more revealing clothing and which revealed your true shape.

“Y/N-Y/N SAN YOUR BODY IS—-YOUR BUTT IS SO—“

Bleeding on sight. You were wearing some cut shorts with a tied shirt and the shorts cupped your round butt so beautifully.

Crush him with your thighs and butt pls

When you walk you tend to sway your hips a lot making your butt move and it catches his attention so fast all he wants to do is rub it :((

He gets hard a lot when you wear bikinis

NEEDS a reason to touch your lower half at least once a day or he’ll combust.

“Would you like me to rub sun screen on you, my princess?”

His lotioned hands always tease around your smooth fatty cheeks when he massages you

Speaking of massages he gives you one every night and that either leaves him a horny mess or fucking into you from the back

You shook your ass on him once while dancing and he just COULD NOT handle what he seen and bled on you

“Please do me the honor of sitting on my face.”

Okay so…there was this one time Sanji fucked you in the kitchen and he asked if he could try something knew and you said okay, he bent you over and poured honey on your ass and licked it up.

You were shocked and turned on all at once.

When you wear skirts you’re such a damn tease to him the way the back of it always ends up shorter than the front and it always hits the bottom of your cheeks so beautifully

VERY PROTECTIVE BTW

Immediately kicks around mfs that say anything derogatory about your shape

“She has to be a slut with a body like t—-“

One to the head now you know he dead

Yeah Sanji and the rest of the OP boys do not play about people talking about your body. It’s theirs for a reason who is anybody allowed to talk crap about it?

Law

He’s more of a thigh man but since you’re natural best believe you have those to match with them two beach balls you got back there

He always under estimates how you look in clothing.

“I don’t think this will fit—“

“It will It’s Just your unifo—-oh.”

Ass is still sitting pretty in a jumper.

Law’s stupid ass tends to read about bodies with larger mass of fat on specific areas and if it’s normal

NOT TO BE MEAN HE LOVES YOUR BODY HE JUST WANNA MAKE SURE YOURE COMFORTABLE AND HEALTHY PLS

He cuddles the butt and if your have stretch marks or cellulite he traces /pokes them with his fingers

“Stop that!”

“Your ass moves even when you talk, fuck..”

Absolutely cannot handle you doing reverse cowgirl

Cumming in minutes you didn’t even properly adjust to his size

He taps or plays with the fat of your thigh when he is in thought. So much so there is a small bruise that formed because he always did it in the same area

Wants you to sit on his face, but embarrassed to ask

DO NOT HOVER OVER HIS FACE HE HATES THAT SIT ON HIM.

You did it and he did the most obnoxious moan inside you

Makes you wear nothing but your panties when you both are alone.

Ace

“Suffocate me with your thighs please I don’t want to be alive anymore.”

He uses your butt as a punching bag sometimes KSHSHSISK

Like you’ll be looking the other way talking to him and he’ll be behind you lightly punching each cheek for his own amusement

He wants you to wear his shorts so bad???

“I can’t fit them.”

“You can—look they stretch!”

He just plays with your butt a lot and like 90% of the time it isn’t even sexual he just loves the fat of your ass sm.

He thinks you look like a mf goddess with how your body moves when you dance

He absolutely loves when you ride him but he does it in front of a mirror so he can watch your wet ass bounce in him.

“Stop Doing that or imma sit on you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

When he hugs you from behind he tends to dry hump you and sometimes you don’t notice KSHSHSKS

Falls asleep on your ass

Has thought about eating your ass

He just really loves your ass

Shanks

So. Many. Butt jokes.

He was drunk and barged into your room one night to find you laying on your stomach in your panties reading and kissed your ass

“Wha—?”

“I was craving something for my tooth so I kissed your butt…cuz you have such a sweet ass.”

You hate this man sm.

You have to sit on his lap once a day or he’ll pout. Literally pout all day.

Rubs your butt constantly when he is beside you.

Doesn’t give af who is watching because who gone stop him?

Another ass eater

HATES when other men look at your ass.

That’s his ass who tf are they to look and gawk over it?

Would prefer if you wore No panties when you wore skirts

Makes stupid excuse for you to bend over a lot

Absolute menace because he in fact an ass man

You’re actually the first woman he has been with with an ass like yours so when he sees it he sometimes gets flustered you never see it though.

Unlike Law doggy style and reverse cowgirl is the go tos. Your jiggly booty is his new treasure.

Dry humps you sm you swear he’s like a dog in heat.

When you guys go shopping he likes to be in the dressing room with you to watch you struggle to put on pants.

“Baby did you get the right size these feel too small?”

“No.”

“WHY?”

“Cuz look..” -casually pokes the fat that couldn’t get in the pants.- “sexy.”

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lmskitty · 2 months

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ADHD Gojo who eats sweets to help stimulate his brain but now has a sweet addiction and can't tell whether they actually stimulate his brain or if he just craves sugar.

ADHD Gojo who is always 7 or 8 minutes late to meetings not intentionally but just that he understands time on a different level and is blind to it mostly.

ADHD Gojo who doesn't understand over sharing or "talking to much". Hes hilarious and people should be honoured they get to hear what he has to say. But sometimes he watches the way people talk around him and knows that the way he's spoken isn't right somehow.

ADHD Gojo with Suguru Geto his comfort person. Geto who watches him and notices when he's a little more quiet, when the world is too bright and loud and too many things so he's dragged back to his room and the lights are off and he lays on Geto's chest and plays with the strands of his hair. Geto subconsciously holds his hand over Gojo's eyes even though it's pitch black in there. Geto talks to him about the book he's reading and the research he's done into the next location they're going to for their mission and Gojo's heart rate calms down a little as he matches his breathing to Geto's chest and gets to focus on one thing above everything and the noise. Suguru's voice is a lighthouse in the ocean of his mind and he can centre himself again and focus on his words. Geto lets him sleep on his chest as he reads his new book with the dim lamp on, Gojo's hand always on his chest feeling the reassurance of his chest calmly rising and falling.

ADHD Gojo who throws himself into mission after mission after mission after mission and teaching and fighting and meetings because he can't stop because IT never stops and Suguru is gone now.

ADHD Gojo who visits Shoko more often now that he's older. She lets him talk and talk as she does her work, sometimes he lets limitless down and she goes over to where he's sitting on a morgue trolley and lets his head rest on her shoulder as she strokes his newly shaved undercut.

She's recommended him medication but he never takes it, insists he's fine. Doesn't state the he has to be part of that sentence but they both know it. He pauses, breathing into the warmth in her neck as she wraps her arms around him and for a brief moment he's relaxed but then his phone beeps and he's back to

!!!Satoru Gojo!!! And he winks at her and tells her again to quit smoking, that it's bad for her health, and warps out of there. She rolls her eyes, who is he to lecture her on the importance of looking after oneself.

#satosugu #adhd gojo #neurodivergent gojo #jujutsu kaisen #goge #stsg #adhd

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sillyrabbit81 · 1 year

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The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Sixteen

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Sixteen Summary: Marshall opens up about his past.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.1k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Sixteen Warnings: slight angst, discussion of murder and violence against women, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of body fluids, I think thats it

Authors Note: Thanks as always to my lovely BBFs (Best Beta's forever) @henryobsessed and @nashibirne .

So... Been a while... I am really nervous about posting because it has been so long! But I put my big girl pants on and I'm just going to do it. This chapter had to be split in half, which was a small reason for why this took so long to put out, the other part is that I think some of it is a bit dry... Exposition is hard!!!! The next part isn't quite finished but this point was a natural stopping point so I figure, post this and then maybe I won't be so in my head about the next bit.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Fifteen Part Seventeen

Lori

I woke up with a start.

My heart was beating as fast as a mouse’s and I was sucking in huge gulps of air that failed to fill the hollow in my chest. I was shaking, every muscle and sinew quivering with a chilling thrum, yet I was frozen. I willed myself to move but my glaciated neurons refused to fire, iced over, hardened, ready to snap.

From behind me, a heavy arm moved on my waist and a hand pressed against my belly as soft whiskers and gentle lips caressed and the back of my neck. Relief warmed my blood in a balmy rush, my body thawing in a heady and welcomed surge.

Marshall. It was only Marshall.

“Alright?” he asked, his voice low and rough from sleep.

I hummed, not quite ready to speak. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. Small and generic, its garish neon green digital numerals reminded me that my room wasn’t actually my room and my briefly mollified anxiety inched its way back into my tightening chest.

I’d barely slept, little more than dozed. I wondered if I should get up and shower, but I didn’t want to disturb Marshall. So I laid there and listened to his breathing return to its regular cadence while I tried to recall and hold onto my dream. I might as well have tried to catch a cloud, the memories were wispy vapours, too vague and insubstantial to retain, leaving behind echoing stains of dread and emptiness.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what I had dreamed of. The strange and rapid life changes over the past couple of weeks made it possible for me to push aside the grief from the loss of my parents and focus on other things like my anger at Nate, the shocking revelations about Jake, and the developing situation with the Brothers. I may have made a conscious decision not to dwell and process my emotions, but my subconscious was obviously not on board.

I focussed on the rhythm of Marshall’s breathing, the soft reverberation in his throat on each inhale and the sturdy snugness of his arms while I pushed down the lingering feelings, stuffing them like clothes into a laundry basket, deep into the recesses of my mind. Even as I crammed them away, I knew I’d have to deal with my emotions at some point. I told myself I would, just not today, or tomorrow. Maybe in a month or two. Or three. When I was home again, or alone, or when things were back to normal.

Eventually, the residual fear from my lost dream ebbed and slowly faded while a myriad of new ones took its place.

Had last night been another mistake on the long list of mistakes I had made. Was Marshall another Jake? Was Sy for that matter?

Sy.

Now that Marshall and I had crossed the Rubicon, would Sy still feel the same way about me when he returned and faced the reality of what he had agreed to? Or, had the existence of the pact forced him to adhere to it out of a sense of bravado and loyalty to the Brotherhood? Had I just turned myself into another groupie, a woman destined for a lifetime of disrespect, deception and disillusion, stupidly thinking that an outlaw, an outsider, a biker, could change for them?

I waited for the gut feeling that I had fucked up by sleeping with Marshall to arrive, but it never came. Of course there were no guarantees in any relationship, but everything that had happened with Marshall had felt sincere and genuine.

“I can hear you thinking,” Marshall grumbled. His breath was warm against my ear and his gentle accent made me shiver as a heated rush rippled across my skin, soothing and comforting me.

“I thought you were asleep,” I said.

He grunted and shifted his body until he laid on his back. I rolled over, following him and he tucked me under his arm. He glanced with a half smile that I barely picked up in the darkness of the room. I returned it and his grin grew slightly bigger before he laid his head back into the pillows.

“My sleep cycle has been off for years. Never recovered from shift work with the PD.”

I shimmied closer to him, pressing my breasts against his side, resting my thigh across his hips and dipped my fingers into the thick, coarse curls that spread across his chest from shoulder to shoulder. In response, I felt him stroke my arm, the tips of his fingers tracing an invisible path.

“Marshall?”

“Lori,” he replied, one side of his mouth lifting in a smirk.

“How did you end up in the Brotherhood?”

His smile vanished instantly and after a couple of passes over my arm, his hand stopped his caress, pausing mid stroke. His eyes sought out mine and I made it easier for him, by laying my chin on his chest, ignoring the way his wispy hairs tickled my jaw.

“There were a series of murders. Women, young women, some still teens. To call them murders doesn’t go far enough, each one was assaulted, tortured…” Marshall trailed off but his fingers began to stroke me again, this time sweeping over my back.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said.

Marshall grunted and took a deep breath. “It was a long investigation that led nowhere. We had physical evidence, DNA, but no matches in the system and no motives. There were no useful eyewitnesses, no connections between the victims, they were of different racial backgrounds, economic status, from all over the city. We kept hitting dead ends, every lead we had didn’t pan out. Meanwhile, more girls were showing up dead, nearly a dozen and the media were breathing down our necks.”

He scoffed, his lip curled in disgust.

“They can be viscous,” I said, remembering the media circus that followed my parents' death.

Lifting his head, Marshall kissed my forehead before continuing.

“Eventually a name popped up that looked promising, he had been a contact in four of the victim’s phones. No other number had shown up twice, let alone four times. So we started an investigation into him. Found out he was a CEO of a financial institution or an investment bank, I don’t remember which. He was young, one of those prodigious financial wizards that seemed to have the Midas touch. He was famous in the financial world, puff pieces in newspapers, magazines, you know the type?”

I nodded and he continued.

“We’d barely gotten further than collecting basic background on this guy when the case was taken out of our hands by the Feds. I was furious, obviously, their jurisdiction over the case was on a flimsy basis at best. There was nothing I could do about it but wait for news of the investigation. However, months went by and… nothing. No news, no arrests, no more media reports, nothing.”

“He wasn’t the guy?”

Marshall shrugged. “I thought I must have been wrong. After a year, a homeless guy was arrested and charged.”

“So you had the wrong guy, after all?”

Marshall chuffed and shook his head.

“I knew in my gut the man they arrested was a patsy. I looked into it. I talked to some of his friends from the streets and as far as I could tell he wasn’t even in town when the first three victims had been murdered. His friends said he came to the city to attend the funeral of his murdered daughter.”

“No,” I gasped, my mouth covering my hand in shock.

“Yes,” Marshall said, “He was the father of the first victim we found. We had tried to contact him in the early days of the investigation, but he couldn’t be located. By the time he had discovered what happened to his daughter, there had been other victims and it was no longer a priority to find him and rule him out as a suspect.”

I thought about Nate and my father. I had never been privy to the dealings of the club, but you picked things up. The club had a surprisingly low number of members with criminal records and although I had never been explicitly told, I knew it was because the “right” people had been paid off for years. I figured the real killer must have been doing something similar, but on a massive scale.

“So what did you do?” I asked.

“I took my theories up the chain and requested permission to do my own investigation. I was told in no uncertain terms that if I did that, it would cost me my badge.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Shit.”

“I couldn’t let it go though. I knew I couldn’t investigate alone and I suspected that I might be under surveillance. I couldn’t ask anyone else in the department to risk their job, so I called a guy I trusted. He used to be a bounty hunter but by then was working as a private security contractor.”

“Geralt?” I guessed.

“Geralt,” Marshall repeated. “He used his connections and reported back that there had been rumours floating about this guy for years, from his college days to his early Wall Street days to this case. Reports of domestic violence from women he’d had relationships with and assaults on sex workers that always seemed to be retracted or ignored. Somehow, this fucking guy kept getting away with fucking murder because of his connections.”

He closed his eyes and the muscles of his jaw pulsed beneath his thickly bearded skin. Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and his voice was husky as he continued.

“When I realised what they had done to that man, that girl’s father… I wasn’t particularly idealistic and I wasn’t naive, but I had never thought that this level of corruption could happen. The Feds, the media, the PD; how many people must be involved, how many people were paid off or blackmailed? Everything I knew, everything I….”

He shrugged and was quiet. I waited, sure he had more to say. But he stayed silent, jaw twitching again and his eyes seemed to glaze over as his thoughts seemed to drift away.

I placed my hand on his cheek, my thumb sweeping along the bone and tilted my head to kiss his chest softly. Marshall’s hand went to my hair stroking my hair off my face.

“I quit. I couldn’t do that kind of work again, not knowing what I knew. I went back to Geralt, thinking with my SWAT background, maybe I’d try private security. Instead, Geralt introduced me to Sy and Walker.”

“What happened to the CEO?”

Marshall’s grin was a little disconcerting as he replied, “He got his in the end. An international financial scandal ruined him. The bank he headed was laundering money for the cartels and he was directly implicated in running the scam. The CIA got him for that one, apparently his reach didn’t go that far.”

“What happened to the father?” I asked.

“Suicide in prison while awaiting trial. It was a fucking joke.”

“I’m sorry, Walter,” I said softly.

His eyes found mine. Blue, deep and clear, they held me and I couldn’t look away. He sighed and shifted his hips. The movement made his thigh brush high between my legs and I became very conscious of the fact that both of us were naked.

The atmosphere changed, the air crackled with an electric anticipation and a heady jolt of lust worked its way down my spine to my core. I wasn’t alone, Marshall breathing became heavy, his nostrils flaring as he drew in each breath and his chest swelled.

His fingertips began to skim over my back again, and my skin broke out in goosebumps as I shivered with pleasure. His burly arms drew me to his chest, the coarse hair tickled my nipples as he guided me onto my back. Blanketing me with his comfortingly heavy body, his weight was concentrated at our hips and effectively pinned me to the mattress. My legs split beneath him, opening myself up in a shameless invitation. He took the hint, and he rolled his hips against me as he kissed me.

It was like he was a different man; his feral, almost brutal urgency gave way to languid deliberateness. His lips moved down the column of my neck, hands exploring, clasping my ribs as if he wanted to caress not just the flesh, but the bones beneath. Moving with barely restrained greed, he slipped my nipple into his mouth and his teeth captured it while his velvety tongue flicked. His lips were satin, his beard was rugged silk, equally coarse and soft as he kissed and rubbed his cheeks against the sensitive skin between my breasts.

Opening his bearded jaw wide, he took more of me into his mouth than just my pink pebbled nipple. I watched bleary eyed as creamy skin disappeared into his warm mouth and his tongue lashed. My fingers slid into his thick curls, holding him close, begging for more.

I moved a hand down his shoulder and back feeling his dense muscles ripple under my touch. I went lower, down his side and abdomen, a rush of heat surged through me as my fingers found the trail of hair below his navel. I wanted to follow its path, wanted to feel him throbbing just like I was.

Thwarting my plans, Marshall laid warm, wet, kisses down my tummy, and became out of reach. I let out a petulant moan and he grinned, rubbing his beard against a sensitive spot near my hip, making me giggle and squirm out of his grasp. He caught my hip and pushed me down to the bed again in a flash back to his earlier impatience.

“Shh,” he soothed with a wolfish grin.

His hand swept down my thigh, curling under my knee and gently guiding my legs further apart. His kisses started at my knee and moved down the inside of my thigh, heat from his mouth made me shiver and I fell back onto the bed. He got closer to my soaked, throbbing core and I felt his tongue at the crease of my thigh, lapping at the combined wetness there from both my arousal and his release.

I gasped and leaned up on my elbows to watch and his feverish blue eyes were looking up at me from between my legs. My body looked as aroused as I felt, nipples tight and hard, tummy and thighs trembling, my pussy was swollen and glistening with the remains of our previous, furious love making.

Fingers glided over me, thumbs pulling apart my folds, his breath simultaneously warm and cooling against my hot throbbing sensitive skin. A finger teased my weeping core, swirling at my entrance. I was on fire, desperately clenching at nothing, and I could feel evidence of his orgasm leaked from within me.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath.

“Marshall,” I said breathlessly, reaching for his shoulders, trying to pull him up to me, “stop teasing me. Just fuck me.”

“I’ll fuck you,” he said, voice husky, almost gone. Then he mumbled something I couldn’t catch against my pussy.

The feel of his tongue prodding my entrance, no doubt tasting himself as he ate me out was so wickedly filthy to me that I was completely transfixed by the lurid eroticism, I’d never experienced anything like it. I could barely hold myself up, but the sight of him practically pussy drunk and groaning was too good not to look at. He growled, his arms wrapped around my thighs and he pushed his face into me, soft prickles of his beard against me made me shake even more and despite wanting to keep watching, I fell back to the mattress.

Suede-like brushes against my clit had me shaking, the tension in my muscles quivering like violin strings. Jesus christ he was amazing, then he sucked softly on my clit, and I was gone, crying out as my hands tangled in his hair, tightening into fists and held him against me. He didn’t stop as I came, his hands moved to my hips, his long fingers splayed across my belly and waist as if he wanted to feel my body move as I buckled.

My hands unclenched, and I shuddered with aftershocks as Marshall stayed where he was, softly licking at my core. I closed my eyes, bathing in the post orgasm euphoria, running my fingers through his hair. He didn’t stop kissing me as he moved up my body and rested a fraction of his weight against me. His hand was warm as he cupped my cheek and covered my mouth with his. I could taste us on his lips and tongue, his beard was soaked too. I was so turned on that after the flavour faded from his mouth, I swept my tongue over his chin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You taste good, don’t you?”

I hesitated, self-consciousness creeping in and my cheeks burned with embarrassment. Marshall stroked my cheek with his thumb and I opened my eyes and realised that he wasn’t trying to shame me.

“You taste good too,” I said.

He smiled, his lips parting just enough to see his teeth, before he grew a little serious. His hand curled around the back of knee, lifting and opening me again, and he adjusted his body in a way that made me gasp. Poised, and ready, his silky hardness waited, his brows raising just enough to ask the unspoken question.

“Yes,” I murmured.

His mouth was on mine as he slid inside me, our kiss muffling both our moans. We stayed like that, joined and locked together, hungrily swallowing the others whispered words and whimpers. Fingers sought mine, and lacing them together he squeezed, gripping me and releasing me in time with his steady rocking movements.

He knew what he was doing, making sure I could feel every inch of his thick and rigid length, making sure he found that spot that made my breath hitch every time. His breath was coming in harder and heavier, each exhale punctuated by a muted grunt. I couldn’t focus, I had to close my eyes. Fuck, he really knew what he was doing.

“Marshall,” I gasped. I don’t know why I spoke. I was riding close to the edge, any second now and I would fall.

“Yes,” he growled, “Fuck, yes.”

I fell.

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hard-core-super-star · 7 months

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Can i please request that Griffin and reader are working on a car together, and hailee just stares and admires reader. (Who is in a tank top, showing off her arms.) And r has grease all over her hands.

like words left unsaid [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: hailee steinfeld x reader

summary: hailee can't ever seem to keep her eyes off of you and you can't really complain about that.

warnings: none; fluff, no plot; hailee being a dork in love and R teasing her about it despite being just as whipped; me pretending i understand car stuff; weird pov shenanigans again

wordcount: 1k

a/n: this is an unofficial sequel to remind me i'm alive because i can and i want to :) my hailee fics have lowkey been flopping lately and i can't even be mad because she's just so...confusing lately. and i think it shows in the way i write her nowadays. that being said, i attempted to write pure fluff with her again so we'll see how this goes, hope you enjoy <3 gif is lowkey irrelevant, i'm just gay

* * * * * * *

“This is so boring, how the hell do you guys spend hours doing this?” Hailee complains for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes.

Her comment makes you laugh, mainly because no one asked her to join you and Griffin while you do a full tune-up on your beloved Corvette but she refuses to leave despite how boring she seems to find it. Her stubbornness has more to do with you than anything else but you pretend not to notice in favor of teasing her.

“You’re free to leave if you want,” you reply.

Griffin chuckles but doesn’t say anything. He very clearly stays out of things for the sake of his own sanity, his head ducked under the hood of your car.

You, on the other hand, decide to take a step back and let him continue his inspection of your battery. Your hands subconsciously attempt to smooth out the wrinkles on your tank top which leads to you leaving oil stains on the fabric.

You mumble out a few curse words and motion for the brunette to hand you a towel.

Hailee’s focus is somewhere else though. And she’s never been more thankful she decided to stick around to watch you tinker with your stupid car all afternoon.

She swore it was only because she wanted to spend more time with you but that idea didn’t really cross her mind until she saw what you were going to wear while messing around with said car. Your beauty has never been something she’s questioned before and yet it’s not until moments like these that she’s particularly aware of it.

The sight of you in a tank top is more than enough to make her heart race but add in the way your hands effortlessly grip the ridiculous amount of wrenches you have to use and she’s pretty sure her feelings for someone have never been as obvious as they are right now.

“Earth to Hailee,” you speak up, a wide grin on your face. “You gonna give me a hand?”

Your words snap her out of her daze, her brown eyes wide from the shock of being caught blatantly checking you out. “I, uh…”

You can’t stop yourself from laughing at her reaction although you hold in your urge to tease her until later.

Despite having been dating for a few months, you still haven’t told her brother about your relationship. It’s not a secret per say, it’s just easier not to have to deal with his jokes while you two figure out how to make things work.

“Just go grab a towel from the kitchen,” Griffin says. “All the ones we have here are dirty already.”

��Sounds good.”

You stare expectantly at Hailee, who takes a few seconds to understand what you mean before following you back into the house.

“You’re going to have to work on those heart-eyes if you don’t want anyone to catch on,” you tease her the second you’re inside and away from Griffin’s prying ears.

“Shut up,” she replies with an overdramatic pout. “It’s not my fault my girlfriend is so attractive.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Steinfeld.”

You walk toward the sink, her laughter following after you, and attempt to wash away the oil that sticks to your hands. You fail for the most part but at least you don’t feel as gross anymore.

The second you turn around again, Hailee’s hands are on your waist, pulling you in toward her. You welcome the embrace and eagerly wrap your arms around her neck in response.

It hasn’t even been two hours since the last time you two were alone yet here you are acting like you’re starved for affection.

“Hi,” she mumbles while she leans forward to press her forehead against yours.

It still baffles you how soft she truly is. She plays the part of a self-assured celebrity incredibly well for someone who seeks out your loving gaze so often.

She’s a beautiful tapestry of mix-matched personality traits and you’re the lucky fool who gets to spend hours admiring each and every piece of her.

“Hey there,” you whisper in response. “Can I help you with something?”

“Let me think about it.” The words aren't fully out of her mouth before her lips find yours.

You smile into the kiss, letting her pull you impossibly closer to her while the air around you fills with the love you can’t quite hide.

A love you’ve technically not spoken out loud yet. It’s not that you’re not happy to feel it, you’ve just been caught up in some other, more passionate, aspects of being with Hailee.

Plus, if you’re being honest, you’ve been in love with her so long, you sometimes forget how new this still is. You’ve known her for years but now you get to know her better, in ways that make you regret hiding the truth for so long.

“I’ve got an idea,” she announces when she pulls away from you.

“I’m all ears, babe.”

She can’t resist giving you another quick kiss before speaking again. “How about we ditch my brother and go get something to eat? I’m starving and I don’t think I can watch you mess around with that car any longer.”

“I thought you were enjoying the view though?”

She rolls her eyes at you, the tiniest hint of a blush spreading along her cheeks. “I'd like to enjoy it somewhere more private.”

A million responses cross your brain yet you go for that one that will annoy her the most. “You'll have to pull Griffin away from my car for that.”

“Way to ruin the moment.” She doesn't break the embrace despite her complaints. “And I thought you guys weren't done yet.”

“We were technically done half an hour ago but your brother loves my car and you love checking me out so it seemed like a win-win,” you reply with a smirk and shrug.

“y/n!” Her over-dramatic reaction makes both of you burst out laughing. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.” The words slip out faster than you can even think.

Thankfully, she doesn't give you the chance to panic.

She merely smiles as if you've said the words a thousand times before. And in a way, you have.

Which just makes it all the sweeter when she says,”Yeah. I do…but you're still a jerk.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that.”

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

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stromuprisahat · 3 months

Text

Killing Ana Kuya as an act of liberation

The Darkling rarely does something for one reason only, and while the deed's unquestionably a move to draw Alina out of her hiding, and retaliation for Ol' Bags' death, it's also his flavour of mercy.

He might have- perhaps subconsciously- recognized Anne Cunt's lasting influence on Alina, because he was there himself. And while he was able to see Baghra's negative impact on his own behaviur, he's never managed to fully cut her off.

“Baghra has her own way of doing things,” he said. “Don’t patronize me, boy!” Her voice cracked out like a whip. To my amazement, I saw the Darkling stand up straighter and then scowl as if he’d caught himself. “Don’t chide me, old woman,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Shadow and Bone Chapter 12

Now, Alina's in a similar position. Her past, represented by her mother figure and principles she had instilled in her, has been holding her back since the day one. Worse- it made her vulnerable to Baghra's manipulation, which would be painfully obvious to someone raised at Ol' Bags' knee. Sure, he (rightfully) blames Alina's codependency on Malyen at the beginning, but even if he wasn't able to connect the dots due to missing information, meeting Ana Kuya in person should do the trick.

His long fingers tightened around the glass. “Did you deserve my trust?” he asked, and for once, his voice was less than steady and cold. “Baghra whispers a few accusations in your ear, and off you go. Did you ever stop to think of what it would mean for me, for all of Ravka, if you just disappeared?”

Shadow and Bone Chapter 21

“The night that Baghra told you what I intended, the night you fled the Little Palace, did you hesitate?” “Yes.” “In the days after you left, did you ever think of coming back?” “I did,” I admitted. “But you chose not to.” I knew I should go. I should at least have stayed silent, but I was so weary, and it felt so easy to be here with him. “It wasn’t just what Baghra said that night. You lied to me. You deceived me. You … drew me in.” Seduced me, made me want you, made me question my own heart.

Ruin and Rising Chapter 9

I nodded again. I was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that I was standing in a dark room with a near stranger and that only a few moments before I’d nearly had my skirts around my waist. Ana Kuya’s stern face appeared in my mind, lecturing me about the foolish mistakes of peasant girls, and I flushed with embarrassment.

Shadow and Bone Chapter 14

When I looked up, Baghra was standing on the porch of her cottage, watching me. For no reason at all, I blushed.

Shadow and Bone Chapter 12

Baghra had no patience with me. If I lost focus for even a moment, she’d smack me with her stick and say, “Dreaming of dancing with your dark prince?”

Shadow and Bone Chapter 14

It likely took him centuries to realize just how bad his mother is for him, yet he still loved and needded her enough to keep her safe and close. Now, Ana Kuya wouldn't last that long, but she has to be purged out of Alina's life just as much. Her eventual death won't be enough- Aleksander could't get rid of Baghra even with the Sun Summoner on horizon either. He was still under her influnce, he still cared. ... but her death brought grief and closure.

He's prone to hurry Alina through The Immortal Experience™, besides she needs to pay for her (unknowing) part on Ol' Bags' actions, so he does the one thing that will also lure Alina out (and close one of the fronts he has to fight on). He rids her of the living representation of the baggage that is her childhood under the care of a heartless hag. His- at this point traditional- miscalculation is thinking Alina would be able to understand later.

The wound is too fresh when they meet for the last time, and what's left of her AFTER falls into the same pattern with new women with a (verbal) stick.

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howaboutcastiel · 9 months

Text

Won’t Somebody Help Me Chase the Shadows Away?

(Din Djarin x Cobb Vanth, post season 2 canon divergence.) Content warnings for angst, depression, and heat exhaustion. Word count: like 7k idk it’s long as fuck.

Din has nothing left but a broken Creed and a misplaced Saber. Perhaps, what he needs to heal is someone equally as broken to care for.

There was nothing but silence once the door to the elevator sealed. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the Mandalorian to make the first move. Cara at least had the respect for Din to keep her eyes on the floor, and Fennec joined on her cue. Bo-Katan never let her gaze break from Gideon’s unconscious body. Koska looked to her leader for guidance, but Lady Kryze had no instruction to give her. They all knew it was up to Din to move forward from here.

But Din couldn’t move. He knew if he so much as allowed himself to breathe, he would fall apart. Already, the adrenaline from the fight was wearing off, leaving dread to take its place as the realization set in.

The Child was gone.

His head throbbed, likely from repeated blows from the dark trooper, and the rest of his body wasn’t feeling great, either. It wasn’t that Din was unused to being injured in battle, but he had certainly taken one hit too many to his head this time. He could feel his eyes struggling to focus—and not just because of the tears that welled but refused to fall. His breath was shaky, not just from panic and grief, and each sharp inhale prodded his ribs like a fire poker. The eerie silence stretched on and on until something had to give. Din knew it was him that was giving.

His helmet tumbled from his hands, clanking loudly on the floor and rolling to a stop two paces away. In the back of his mind, Din understood that he should pick it up—that he should replace the helmet and cover his face. But it was too late for that now. His buy’ce was removed, and he had removed it. His Creed was broken. And as he knelt to chase the beskar with shaky hands, the title rang in his ears.

Dar’manda.

Apostate.

Traitor.

He couldn’t put it back on, even if he wanted to. As it was, the helmet lay just out of his reach and his legs would not carry him any further. His head was properly pounding and his heart was in a similar rhythm. Din’s shaky breaths had sunk into silent sobs. His chest wouldn’t take air. All he could feel was pain. It was fruitless—the subconscious effort to steady himself on his knees, to push himself back up. He fell forward as spots and stars invaded his vision. Someone, perhaps Cara, called out to him as his chest hit the floor.

The last thought before the darkness wholly consumed him, a dull-toned mantra in his ears.

There was nothing left for him now.

~~•~~

When he woke, it was slowly at first, then with a start. He couldn’t remember much of what had happened. He hadn’t dreamt, hadn’t thought or felt anything at all since his unceremonious collapse on the imperial cruiser.

Now, all Din could feel was pain.

The first thing he noticed was that his helmet had been replaced—a thoughtful gesture, even if it was in vain. Din’s visor helped him adjust to the light of the bunk. He couldn’t say for sure whose bunk, on what ship, but his best guess was that he was lying in Boba Fett’s quarters on the Slave I. The thin cot was similar to Din’s own on the Crest, another cornerstone in his life that he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to mourn. His limbs were heavy and his neck protested when he tried to lift his head, but that was nothing compared to the dull ache behind his left eye that spread across the entire side of his skull. In spite of himself, he groaned at the pain, and the vibration of his chest served to reveal a similar ache in his abdomen.

The groan caught in his throat and died as a low, choked noise. Din held his breath until he could be sure that breathing was a tolerable feeling. A hoarse whine escaped his lips on the exhale, drawing the attention of company he was unaware that he had.

“Try not to exert yourself,” the familiar voice warned. Boba extended his hand to Din’s chest, a silent order to stay still. “We’ll be arriving on Tatooine soon. You should rest until then.”

“What happened?” Din croaked, his tongue dry and raw.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, my friend. That’s quite a loaded question.”

Din grimaced and tried again. “Where are the others?”

Boba clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, a sound of deliberation.

“Fennec is in the cockpit,” he explained. “Marshal Dune elected to wait for Republic reinforcements to aid her transport of Moff Gideon into custody. As for the other mandalorians, it’s difficult to say. I assume they wanted to deal with Republic officers about as much as Fennec and I did. They left fairly quickly after your collapse.”

Din nodded, his hand darting up to his helmet as the motion sent pain through his head.

Boba’s voice turned softer. “There will be more comfortable quarters for you in Mos Espa, and there are medical droids in the city that can tend to your injuries.”

Din’s throat was as dry as the Dune Sea. “I don’t need to see a med droid.”

Boba chuckled.

“I must disagree, considering that Marshall Dune had to aid me in carrying your unconscious body to my bunk.”

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted.

Fett’s smile dropped, replaced with something akin to a scolding expression. “I believe that you have some degree of head trauma, Mandalorian. Frankly, I was beginning to think you weren’t going to wake up at all. I don’t think it wise for you to take your chances without proper treatment. Let the droid have a once-over, at least.”

Din chewed the inside of his lip. He hardly had the energy to argue about it.

“Alright,” he conceded. A once-over wouldn’t hurt him. Boba’s hand rose slowly from his chest as he reached for something out of Din’s view. “Thank you,” he added hoarsely.

Fett shook his head, bringing a cup of water into Din’s line of sight. “It’s not necessary. You remember, we had an agreement.”

Slowly, Din rose against the wall of the bunk until he could prop himself on his elbows. His body screamed at him as he moved, but the physical damage was the least of Din’s worries. Boba looked at him confusedly, assuming the man would need help bringing water to his lips, while understanding at least somewhat the cultural meaning of removing his buy’ce. Din didn’t allow him to be conflicted for long, reaching his hand to the clasp of his helmet and fumbling it over his head with a shaky, weak grip.

No point in keeping it on, anyway.

“You fulfilled our agreement.” Din didn’t raise his head to meet Boba’s eye at first. He could feel the heat on his cheeks and absently wondered if his complexion allowed for a visible flush. He kept his voice steady. “That didn’t include ensuring my safety after the child’s was secured. You could have left me to fend for myself on Gideon’s cruiser. It would have saved you a great deal of trouble.”

He lifted his head until he could see Boba staring back down at him, patience written on his face and the cup extended to him. Din’s cheeks burned impossibly hot, and he reached a trembling hand up to take the water.

“So thank you, Fett.”

In return, Boba nodded and smiled as softly as Din assumed he was capable. His hand followed Din’s all the way to his lips, ensuring the cup didn’t fall from his grasp when he tilted it to his mouth. He swallowed down the full contents of the cup between two breaths, letting the excess drip from the corners of his lips as he gulped it as fast as he could.

Boba sat the empty glass back where he had gotten it. “You can thank me by doing whatever the medical droids instruct you to. Don’t let my great deal of trouble be in vain, you understand?”

“Yes,” Din affirmed. He had no idea what he must look like to Boba, but he could feel the corners of his mouth pulling into a nervous smile. The man stared back at him with a mostly-blank expression.

“Rest now, ad’ika,” Boba instructed, rising from his seat. “Fennec and I will be in the cockpit, should you require our attention before we arrive.”

Din called out when Boba was just out of view.

“Wait.”

“What is it?” He asked after a pause, having stopped in his path.

He swallowed hard.

“Why did you choose to help me?”

The man responded from beyond Din’s line of sight, the tone of his voice as unreadable as his unseen expression.

“It seemed the obvious choice to make. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re a man of great honor. I would not leave you to die at the Empire’s hand. Not if it’s within my power to stop it.”

Din nodded in understanding—a gesture he might have realized Boba couldn’t see, if not for the state of his mind.

“I have the feeling you would have done the same in my position,” he finished before closing the door to the quarters behind him—

—leaving Din by himself in the narrow cabin.

The silence enveloped Din in an instant. More than that, the true lack of company sat in his chest heavier than it had in decades. He was truly alone this time, like never before. No ship. No home. No Creed. No covert.

No kid.

No family.

Nothing left for him.

His body ached, but Din couldn’t tell if the cruel discomfort came from his injuries or his loss. The feelings all ran together in his mind, burning and aching and stabbing and sensations he couldn’t find a way to describe. All he could really tell was that he was hurting.

Perhaps Boba was right. Maybe Din had hit his head too hard this time, maybe he was concussed, or worse. Maybe his brain was swollen or bleeding inside. Maybe, if he followed orders and laid his head back down on the pillow, he might not wake up again. And maybe that was for the best.

He surveyed the cramped living space. It wasn’t much, but it was spacious compared to Din’s bunk on The Razor Crest. He could tell that Boba had carved out each inch of the quarters for himself, adapting the ship to his own meager needs as any other hunter would. It felt oddly familiar, like a mirror-image of Din’s own life not too long ago. It was obvious, then, why the other bounty hunter had aided him. Boba Fett had seen the very same reflection in Din. The two of them had a sort of understanding, a mutual respect. Perhaps that meant Boba had some idea of the pain that Din was feeling now.

Perhaps, if he did, Din could feel less alone.

He peered out the window across from the bunk. It was hard to see much of anything through the opening, even more difficult thanks to the pounding inside of Din’s skull that made his vision almost double. The expected image of stars and empty space did little to quell Din’s confusion, but at the corner of the window, he could see a thin rim of orange.

Tatooine. That’s where they were headed, Fett had told him. Already the details were starting to fade from Din’s mind as he tried and failed to stay focused on anything at all. A lingering dread accompanied the ache in his chest and the pain in his head, but the rest of it melted away from Din’s brain the longer he sat on the cot. Some warning thought he’d already forgotten made him hesitant to lay down. His eyelids were heavy.

The throbbing in his left ear ebbed and flowed with his heartbeat. For a while, he controlled his breathing as a means to keep the worst of the pain at bay. Images of the last few days replayed in his mind. Somewhere, the order of things had been jumbled. Somehow, the pain had traded its space for a bit of confusion. Things were getting harder to hold onto in his mind, and Din could feel himself wandering. He kept counting his breaths.

He had no idea how long he had sat there. Din couldn’t say what time he’d woken up, or even how long it had been since he’d collapsed on the cruiser. No thoughts would stick in his brain for long enough to focus. The more time he spent trying to grab his bearings, the more they seemed to slip from his hold.

From muscle memory, he slipped his buy’ce back over his head before laying down. His eyes wandered to the only space they hadn’t yet focused—the foot of Boba’s bed. The neon blue numbers of an alarm clock stared back at him, set to the Standard Time Units of Coruscant. Typical of any traveler who spent more time off world than anywhere else, a way to keep track of a daily routine without day and night cycles to help.

16:00. Time to feed Grogu.

Din glanced around, confused. Where was the little guy? It was time for his afternoon meal. Now that Din thought about it, he himself was quite hungry. When was the last time he had eaten? He glanced at the clock again.

1600.

Grogu must be ravenous by now.

He couldn’t hold his eyes open anymore. He needed to get up. He needed to—needed to cook for the child. Din’s limbs were too heavy, his chest was sore. Why couldn’t he remember where the kid had gone? Why was he so damn sore and heavy? He pried his eyes open again.

16:07.

He laughed to himself. Surely Grogu would be fussy by now. Maybe he was still having his mid-day nap. Come to think of it, Din was tired, too.

Maybe he should rest for a while.

He let himself relax, ignoring the alarm bells in the back of his mind. Everything was fine. Grogu would wake him up when he was hungry, wouldn’t he?

Unless he wouldn’t. Unless he couldn’t. Because he wasn’t there, was he?

Right. Din was alone.

Din felt himself drifting at the edge of sleep. Something told him he couldn’t exactly be sure if he would wake up again, but that wasn’t alarming. Something was waiting for him, wherever they were going. He would deal with that when the time came, and it would be okay.

And if he didn’t wake up?

Well, that would be okay, too.

So he let himself sink into sleep.

He did manage to dream, this time, but not for the better. An empty void would have treated him kinder than the nightmares his mind conjured up. They were recurring, but no less distressing. Din’s worst fears often played on repeat in his mind. This time, though? Screaming himself awake did nothing to ease him into relief. It felt as though the reality he had woken to was just as grim of a fate.

The next two days went by in a blur, slower at some moments than other ones. According to the med droids, Din’s concussion was fairly severe, but with the help of bacta spray and a few weeks of rest, he would make a full recovery. His ribs were bruised, his left wrist sprained and his knees more than busted, but nothing was broken. After the initial check-up and bacta infusion, Din refused any further treatment.

The physical discomfort was grounding and, more importantly, distracting.

He wasn’t ready to confront what had happened just yet. Din was unprepared to think about his future and unwilling to mourn his losses. Grief, at this point, was an old friend as much as the blood and bruises were, but he knew somehow that this time would be harder than the rest. Sometimes, the injury in his head was kind enough to let Din forget. Every little while, for an hour or so at a time, he would find himself at peace. He could sit at the window inside his meager Mos Espa lodging and watch the vendors in the marketplace. He could pick at the rations and fruits Boba brought to his door. For a few precious moments, Din was unaware of just how dreadfully alone he had come to be. Then, slowly and inevitably, the hurt would set in, and it all would rush back. The child, the ship, the blade at his side that put a target on his back. He’d remember the cold air on his exposed face as he told young Grogu to do what he couldn’t do himself.

“Don’t be afraid.”

How the hell was he meant to do that?

Eventually, the head wound had run its course. There was nothing left to distract Din Djarin from the hand he’d been dealt. And it really, truly was a rotten hand. For a week, he stayed locked away in the single-room quarters he had rented in the city. He didn’t sleep, and didn’t eat. More than once, he found himself in the refresher trying to expel all the bile in his stomach, but nothing came up after the first wave of sickness. Din stared at the ceiling for hours. He watched the street vendors and children playing in the middle of the city. Din did everything he could do to become a passenger in his own body, if for no other reason but to push the pain away for a single, fleeting moment longer. There was only one thing that he couldn’t hold back. One thing he could not will himself to watch from afar.

For days, he cried.

Silent tears rolled down his face until there was no moisture left to fall. Sobs wracked his body at odd hours of the day and caused him to choke on his breath. Din screamed and wailed and drowned in his own salty tears on the driest planet in the galaxy. He cried until his body refused to cry more, and even then, dry sobs exhausted him into dreamless sleeps or vivid nightmares.

After so many days, he had overstayed his welcome. The innkeeper sent him out on his way, cursing him for the damage he’d done to his room in fits of hysterics, and for staying for twice as long as he’d paid for. Boba had invited him more than once to stay in his newly-acquired palace, but Din had refused. Whatever was next for him, he knew Boba Fett could not help him find it, no matter how much the two of them had in common.

He wandered.

The tuskens didn’t ask many questions, but even so, Din refused to stay with a tribe for more than a night or two. He made his way across the Dune Sea on foot, wearing the helmet for protection from the sun as though he had any right to keep it on. It wasn’t as if he had any belongings to carry on his back. The only items left to Din’s name were the clothes he was wearing, the beskar spear, and the darksaber he hadn’t meant to win. All of it was out of place, armor and weapons for a man who would be king. And Din Djarin, of all people, would never be king.

Din couldn’t lay claim to the throne of a world he had just abandoned. He couldn’t rule with a blade never meant to be his, and he surely could not unite his people after breaking the Creed and betraying his covert. The only thing keeping him from dumping it all in a hole in the desert, was the fact that it was safer in his hands than those of a runner or Pyke.

So he carried the blade, the spear, and the armor. He camped with one tribe of tuskens, then another, then more. On odd nights, he’d lay alone in the sand, not so much as setting a fire for warmth once the twin suns had set. Part of him wished that the dunes would swallow him whole. He wished that the cold would settle in his bones and whisk him away in the night. Din stared up at the stars and searched for a reason to keep moving forward. He tried to tell himself that the child was safer now, better suited for life with those of his own kind. It did nothing to quell the pain in his chest, or the sinking feeling of being alone.

He had no tears left to waste in the desert.

Din had no idea how many nights had passed. Perhaps a week, perhaps two or more. It didn’t matter much to him. Time seemed to pass him by without any discretion. Finally, he stopped looking for tribes to camp alongside him. He stopped digging for melons, and he stopped charting the sea for sandstorms to avoid. He laid himself underneath the twin suns and didn’t get back up. There was nothing to pull him back up.

With hands that were shaking from thirst and exhaustion, he pulled off his buy’ce and sprawled out in the sand. The sunlight burned his skin and blinded his eyes, and the dune sea cradled his head with grit and stickiness, but Din didn’t move from his spot.

For what felt like hours, he let the heat consume him. He drifted between sleep and consciousness, welcoming nightmares and pleasant dreams alike. After a while, the sun didn’t bother him, and he figured his body was finally ready to give up its fight. He was almost at peace with the thought of it, too, until the sound of a speeder ripped him from his mind.

Someone was calling out to him, a voice muddled and far-away, but somehow familiar. Something covered his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Fingers dug into his cheeks and cold liquid—water, unmistakably—trickled into his mouth. He coughed as his raw throat struggled to accept the drink. The voice sounded satisfied.

He sat like that, sipping water in the shade, for a moment. His head slowly made its way down from the clouds, and the voice in his ear became clearer. Din opened his eyes to see nothing but blobs of color, beige and white and gray… and red. A small sea of red, right in front of his eyes. The voice continued to whisper to him, soft and patient, and finally he recognized it. If Din had the strength or the air in his chest, he might have laughed.

“Keep on drinkin’ that, partner.” The marshal of Mos Pelgo instructed him. Din pawed absently at the hand still cradling his jaw. “The hell are you doing out here in your lonesome? Gonna dry right up underneath these suns.”

Din’s tongue felt like sand. “Vanth,” he rasped between sips of water.

“Just take it easy,” the voice continued to soothe. “Must be in pretty rough shape to have shed the bucket, I s’pose. I was half inclined to think you weren’t even human under there.”

Din furrowed his brow, trying to focus his eyes.

“‘M human.”

“I see that,” Cobb chuckled lightly. His hand moved behind Din’s head to pull him out of the sand. “How long you been layin’ out here?”

The marshal’s hand was soft against his neck. “I don’t know.”

Vanth tutted. “Better get you back to town, then. You think you can stand for a minute?”

“I can stand,” Din responded, despite the fact that his head still felt like it was six feet under. Cobb was beginning to look more like a man than sloppy streaks of color in his vision, and Din let him push him up to a sitting position. He fumbled around for his helmet, shaking the sand from inside of it. He wouldn’t admit that he felt too weak to lift it, but Vanth seemed to notice it anyway.

Thin fingers came to cup the outside of Din’s gloved hands, and together the two of them managed to return Din’s buy’ce to his head. His visor helped to further hone his struggling vision. Din’s eyes fell immediately to Cobb’s.

‘How bright,’ he thought of those eyes. ‘Much too kind to be looking at me.’

“Let me help you to my speeder.” Cobb braced himself to pull Din’s weight up from the ground. “Get you outta the suns for a while.”

Din couldn’t really be bothered to argue. At this point, he would follow directions from Cobb if it meant the path of least resistance. Today didn’t seem his day to waste away in the desert, and Din figured at least that Cobb was the next best man on the planet to be handling any of his beskar.

“How’d you find me?” Din grumbled as he all but crawled to the speeder with Cobb’s support.

“I didn’t,” the marshal replied. His bike wasn’t equipped with a trailer for cargo, so he sat Din against the seat of the speeder and settled between his legs in front of him. “You’ve all but wandered into my town on your own, mandalorian.”

He nodded his head toward a collection of shapes in the distance, what Din could only assume was the outline of Mos Pelgo. When he made no effort to secure himself, Cobb took Din’s arms by the wrists and wrapped them tight around his belly. Without the armor, Cobb was even slimmer than Din had remembered. The marshal’s thin body was all but surrounded by Din’s, and he reckoned that they couldn’t be more secure in their shared seat on the speeder.

With another chuckle, Cobb turned the ignition and gripped the handles. Din barely resisted the urge to lean his head on the marshal’s shoulder, tired as he was. He didn’t quite know what Vanth found so funny, not until he mumbled to himself before accelerating the bike to its coasting speed.

“Seems like you’re the one who found me.”

The sound of the speeder drowning out Cobb’s voice, Din was left with little to distract him from the weight of the marshal against his chest. A surprisingly light and gentle weight, if Din was being honest, but stunning nonetheless. He had grown accustomed to Grogu’s body against his chest—or his hip, or his neck, or wherever else the little womp rat decided to cling to him. He was barely as heavy as Din’s helmet was, and no bigger, either. Still, the touch of his child was cherished by Din every moment. Now, in hindsight, more than ever.

But this touch was different. Grogu was some kind of warm-blooded, sure, but he was a child, and he seemed closer to amphibian than human. Cobb’s body was warm, and it pressed against Din from his calves to his throat. Where the beskar didn’t cover, he could feel the heat of the marshal against him. Din could not remember the last time someone had touched him like this. Besides the occasional handshake, Din’s experience with touch in the last decades was almost exclusively violence. Cobb… Cobb had touched his face. Bare skin on skin, and unbelievably gentle. Even under the helmet, he could still feel the ghost of thin fingers pressed against his jaw, coaxing his lips open to sneak him a drink.

The ride into town was quick. Vanth hadn’t been lying—Din had managed to collapse just minutes away from Mos Pelgo. Of the few townsfolk wandering the streets, every one of them turned their heads at the image of the mandalorian sharing a speeder with their marshal. Din’s armor alone drew many onlookers in the most mundane circumstances. Limp as a hutt and clinging to Cobb like a frightened child? He figured he must be the strangest sight these people had seen in a while.

Then again, he also figured Mos Pelgo had seen its fair share of strange.

He hesitated to let go of Cobb when the speeder slid to a halt. Din couldn’t say why he found it so hard to loosen his grip, but he chalked it up to still being untrusting of his own stability. At least he could stand on his own, now that the water had helped clear his head. Marshal Vanth helped him off of the bike and slipped an arm around his waist for a bit of support.

“Reckon you don’t want to draw a crowd,” Cobb hummed like a question.

Din shook his head. “Not particularly.”

He led him to an unfamiliar building, a single-family house not too far from the cantina.

Cobb smiled. “Guess I’ll have to take you home then, won’t I? Not much of a nurse myself, but it’ll just be the two of us.”

Din nodded. He’d never seen the marshal’s home before, but he knew that anything was better than staying outside. The two of them had camped with the tuskens when Din was last in town, and not that he had any idea of what to expect, but Din was still surprised when Cobb led him up the steps and into the cozy living quarters.

Like most other structures on Tatooine, the home was built of sandstone. Rather than dug underground to protect from the heat, Cobb’s home was on the same level as the town’s businesses. Natural light illuminated the front room, frosted glass windows providing some privacy while leaving the space bright and open to the suns. The furniture was sparse and wonky. If Din had to guess, it looked to be mostly comprised of recycled materials. It made sense—Cobb didn’t seem the type to waste much of anything. A dainty kitchen lined the right side of the living space, split away from the lounge by a narrow hallway that Din assumed led to the ‘fresher and bedroom. In total, the space was no larger than Din’s own quarters on the crest, but Cobb had somehow made it seem homey and warm, rather than claustrophobic and utilitarian.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Cobb instructed as he dropped Din onto his couch. He didn’t have to be told twice. “I’ll be right back with some food and water. Heat exhaustion’s a stubborn bastard to deal with, so I’m gonna have to ask you to take off some of that armor, if that’s alright.”

Din hummed a sound of begrudged assent, fumbling with the clasp of his chest plate as Cobb’s footsteps retreated to the kitchen across the room.

Vanth had already seen his face, anyway. What good was hiding the rest of him?

By the time Cobb returned to the couch with a tray full of meats, jams, and bread, Din was down to his helmet and the bottom half of his flightsuit. His undershirt clung to his chest, soaked through with sweat, and he had neither the strength nor the steadiness to lift his hips and shimmy out of his pants. Cobb balanced the tray on the arm of the couch, his grimace out of place on his usually-bright face.

“You must’ve been out there longer than I thought.” He watched for a moment as Din’s chest rose and fell with struggling breaths. “When’s the last time you ate somethin’, friend?”

In response, Din shook his head. He honestly didn’t know, but he really wasn’t hungry anyway. In fact, his stomach did nothing but churn at the sight of the food in front of him.

“What in the world were you doing out there?”

He was too tired to fish for a lie, but there was no way that Din could admit that he had voluntarily laid down to die in the desert. Instead, he elected not to answer at all. Cobb didn’t seem one to pry, curious as he was. He brought his hand up to Din’s neck.

“You aren’t running too hot,” he thought aloud. “And you’re still sweating. I think we can rule out heat stroke, at the very least, but you’re still in rough shape. If I had some ice to spare, it would be ideal, but we’ll have to settle for lukewarm water. I’ll bring you something lighter to change into while I wash your flightsuit.”

Instead of saying thank you, Din merely nodded his head. He wasn’t sure how he felt about eating the marshal’s food—about drinking his water reserves and wearing his clothes. It was not in Din’s nature to ask for things, and he sure as hell wasn’t accustomed to being cared for. He felt like a bit of a burden. Part of him would rather have died in the sands.

There wasn’t much he could do about it, though. He didn’t want to leave, that was for sure, and even if he did, he was much too tired. It seemed Vanth was going to show his hospitality whether Din asked for it or not. He was going to offer him food and rest and comfort and company.

As it seemed, Cobb Vanth was going to make sure Din wasn’t alone, if just for one day.

And as much as Din knew he didn’t deserve the attention, who was he to protest?

Cobb stared at him, waiting for some kind of movement that Din was too tired to accomplish. After a minute, he cleared his throat. “Do I need to help you outta the rest of it?”

Oh, right.

Din sighed. “Don’t need help,” he mumbled.

“Is it a modesty thing? You want me to leave the room while you change into somethin?” Cobb pushed himself up to walk away from the couch. He waited for an answer, but Din hadn’t responded. It looked as though even breathing at all was a chore for the man. “Mando?”

The moniker drew some response.

“Don’t… call me…” he barely pushed the words out.

Cobb shook his head and settled back in front of him. If he was too weak to talk and too tired to move, he sure as hell couldn’t finish getting undressed on his own. Drinking more water would require help, too, considering the helmet had once again been replaced. Cobb cleared his throat to dawn his official marshal voice.

“We get you feelin’ better, you can tell me your name, and I’ll call you that instead.” He knelt down in front of the mandalorian, picking at the knot in the lace of his boots. “Now. I’m gonna get you changed outta these clothes, cool ya off and get some more water in you. You can let me do it now, or I can wait until the heat knocks you out and I’ll have to force water down your throat. That seems harder on both of us, though, don’t it? I suggest you go with the former.”

Din made a pathetic noise, like a whimper that couldn’t quite make it up out of his chest. He turned his head downward to Cobb.

“Just do it.”

“Always been a smart man,” the marshal praised. He made quick work of untying Din’s boots and tugging them off, followed by his socks. He sat the shoes next to the discarded armor and threw the socks with Din’s gloves. His attention turned to the helmet after that. His hand hesitated on the clasp of the seal, even though Cobb was sure that it had to come off. “Feels like I’m not supposed to be doing this. I need to look away or something?”

“S’fine,” Din huffed. His hand came up weakly to urge Cobb’s forward. “Doesn’t matter.”

“If you say so.”

Even with his permission, Cobb couldn’t help averting his eyes as the helmet slipped off. He placed it with the rest of the beskar, lingering on the pile of armor for as long as he could before it felt unnatural. When he turned back to Din, the man’s eyes were closed and his mouth slightly parted. Cobb would’ve guessed him asleep, if not for the way his chest jolted with his breath, now closer to panting than anything.

Cobb was… intrigued. He’d only spent a couple days with the man, but he’d often wondered what he looked like under there. After all, despite their brief time together, the mandalorian had managed to change Cobb’s life significantly and in more ways than one. He had thought a lot about him since their parting. He hadn’t paid much attention when he found him lying out in the desert—checking his pulse had seemed more important. Now, though? Cobb was almost ogling.

He wasn’t as young as the marshal would have expected. This man looked forty years old, give or take a few, and the Mando he knew had moved with the agility of someone half that age. His skin was paler than Cobb’s—he reckoned it didn’t see a lot of time in any sunlight—but something about the tone told him that it would be darker than his if given the chance to tan. His lips were full and plump, his nose was strong and pointed with a scar on the bridge. Only thing Cobb couldn’t see from here was the color of the man’s eyes. He would worry about that later, though, perhaps when he’d regained his strength enough to hold them open.

“Not to be forward,” Cobb started, “but I’m gonna take your pants off now, partner. Quickest way to get you cooled down is to get you uncovered.”

Din hummed, a noise that had no particular meaning, but Cobb figured he would stop him if he felt violated. If he didn’t get Mando cooled down soon, it wouldn’t matter how uncomfortable he was, anyway. Cobb pried at the buttons of the flight suit, loosening the pants as much as he could before tugging them off of the barely-conscious man. He elected to leave the boxers and undershirt on, for now. Mando could change into drier clothes when he had the strength for it himself. Having a half-naked man passed out on Cobb’s couch was enough of a challenge on its own.

He stopped himself from using the title, settling on a tentative “Darlin’” before he could think of something better.

It didn’t matter much. The man gave no answer.

“I know you’re tired. You need to drink somethin’.”

The mandalorians hand twitched at his side. He grumbled something incoherent. His eyes flickered open for less than a second, then closed again.

So, they were brown.

“Come on, partner. One more cup of water, and I’ll leave ya alone.” Cobb relaxed a bit when his hand moved toward the tray, but the man clearly wasn’t in any shape to be feeding himself.

Cobb took a cup from the tray, filling it with water from one of the bottles he’d grabbed from reserve. He guided it gently into Mando’s hands, then wrapped one of his own around the digits to guide it to his mouth. With his other hand, the marshal propped Din’s head up far enough to drink. This time, he opened his mouth without prompting when the cup got within inches of his face. It didn’t take long for the cup to come empty.

The mandalorian panted for breath. He gave a small nod of thanks, what Cobb assumed was all he could muster.

“I think you’re out of immediate danger, but I wanna keep an eye on you for the evenin’. I need to go tell the deputy I’ll be off for the rest of the day, and I’ll grab ice from Taanti if he’s got some to spare. You’re welcome to sleep for now, if you want. I’ll set some dry clothes for you on the table here.”

Another nod, this time with what Cobb could have sworn was a hint of a tired smile, and the mandalorian was out. His chest steadied to an even rise and fall and his head fell back against the couch at an awkward angle. He must have been truly exhausted, and Cobb knew from experience that he would be damn near delirious, even without heat stroke. Best to let him sleep through it, for now, and Cobb would help him come out of the worst of it when they both had more strength.

Cobb pulled a dry shirt and shorts from his wardrobe, sat them on the table as promised, and walked out the door.

~~•~~

Gotta say, idk if this is what people wanted when they saw my WIP tease but this is what you’re gettin

#din djarin #cobb vanth #dincobb #din x cobb #din djarin x cobb vanth #the mandalorian #star wars the mandalorian #mando

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yourfellowhuman07 · 1 year

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Where Do We Go Now?

A She-ra: Princess of Power 2018 fanfiction

The war is finally over. Prime is dead, the hive mind is broken, and everyone is reunited with their loved ones. However, there are some questions left unanswered. What will be the fate of Catra and Hordak? What are these new memories Wrong Hordak has? What is Etheria's place in the wider universe? Where do we go now?

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Yay, more beating around the bush!

TW: Blood, Bandages

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Chapter 21: Secrets Left Unsaid

Everyone stood still and stared at Hordak. He was looking at the ground with a blank expression; green blood dripped out of his fists and onto the floor. In his mind, time had stopped, and the only emotion he felt was panic. No one was supposed to know. It was to be swept under the rug and never spoken of.

“Hordak?” Entrapta wrapped her gloved hands around his bicep.

“I apologize,” he undid Entrapta’s hold of him, “I will be on the ship.”

“Oh no. With that reaction, you’re going to tell us what happened!” Mermista stood in front of him, impatiently waiting for an answer.

“It’s irrelevant information.” He attempted to walk away, but he was pulled back by the tug of an overall strap.

“If it’s so irrelevant, why don’t you tell us?”

“BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO!” he roared, baring his teeth. His eyes were fearful, and his breath was short. Hordak stormed off into the ship leaving the stunned group of Alliance members.

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Hordak had locked himself into his bedroom in Dryl, wrapping his hands in white bandages stained green from his blood. Why did I react like that? A million other responses floated in his head. He could have given any other excuse, but no. He had to act irrationally. His father’s voice materialized in his subconscious: Those foolish flights of emotion will lead to your downfall. He was right.

Why do I always have to fail at the simplest of tasks? Now, he’ll never be able to show his face to the Alliance without the immediate bombardment of questions. His brothers most likely have likely heard of what happened and ask questions. Most importantly, Entrapta will ask. While he promised to tell her he hoped she would forget and focus on other things.

Maybe I should just tell them all. Perhaps if I tell them all they will stop asking questions and hopefully not be too angry with me. In truth, he didn’t care what the princesses thought of him. Entrapta and his brothers on the other hand were a different story. They were the ones who should know, and the ones he directly lied to. He was petrified that once they were told they would be livid and yell at him and kick him out.

I deserve it.

“Hordak?”

His head whipped over to the door; his eyes burning holes into the metal. It was the voice of his beloved. She was using the door, which was odd.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. I just want to talk to you.”

Slowly, he opened the door and let her in. They sat on his bed in silence; Hordak bandaged his left hand.

“Here let me help.”

She took his left hand into her gloved hands, carefully wrapping each digit in the white gauze. Hordak looked at the ground, and his ears perked downwards.

“The princesses are upset.”

“I know.”

“Your brothers are worried.”

“I know.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I know.” He finally looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

“Hordak, you don’t need to apologize to me, and, whatever is bothering you, you can tell it whenever you want to. Could you tell me when you want to talk about it?”

“I want to get it over with. Just tell everyone at once so the whole thing can be over quickly. So, if possible, I want the Alliance, my brothers, and you to all gather somewhere, preferably Dryl, and I will just tell the whole thing.”

“That’s doable. Would you like me to contact them and ask if they could come by… say tomorrow?”

“That will suffice.”

Entrapta finished wrapping Hordak’s hand and put away the medical kit. She ushered him to lay back on his bed. She cuddled up in the crook of his arm. The two sat in silence as the minutes ticked by.

__________________________________________________

“So explain this to me again, Adora.” Netossa shifted in her seat.

“Well, after Mermista asked why Prime had a baby crib, he flipped out and stormed off into the ship then again to the Crypto Castle.”

“Isn’t that how he usually acts,” Catra said, laying on a couch. Adora gave her a light slap of the calve.

“What, it’s true! Every time he gets mad or uncomfortable he lashes out.”

“Well, whatever upset him must be important to make him react as he did, so we should be respectful of him and not bother him about it.”

“Well, I think we should press it because if Hordak must react that way it must be a problem,” Mermista stated.

“Maybe Prime had a kid somewhere that might take revenge on us for killing his father!” Swift Wind suggested.

“Whatever the issue is, we can’t ask him now. He is emotional over this and asking a bunch of questions so soon could provoke him further causing him to never tell us what happened.” Glimmer advised.

“That might come sooner than you think.” Everyone turned their heads to Bow who held his datapad in his hand. “Entrapta says to come to the Crypto Castle tomorrow because Hordak has to tell us something.”

___________________

Upload Schedule Announcement!

Starting next week, I have decided to post a new chapter every Friday at any time. This gives me a chance to write the chapters and more time to post this fic on AO3. Once it is caught up, the AO3 chapters will begin posting on Saturdays. This means the people on Tumblr will have early access. Thank you all again for reading this and giving me the time of day. I hope the rest of your day is lovely.

❤️❤️❤️

#entrapdak #entrapta #hordak #spop #hyperfixation #she ra #spop fanfic #fanfic #adora #mermista

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novakane123 · 5 months

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Test subject 'ANk'

Nova was born some time in the year 1985 not knowing an exact date because her father doesn't remember due too, well you know insanity.

Hope you enjoy!!!!!( to anyone who does not know anything about the greek gods if a mortal looks at their true form it causes them to go mad which is what happened to mackinze.) Sorry for not posting sooner lol if there are any grammar mistakes just let me know!!

Summary: One year before Nova's escape.

Tw: Abuse, mentions of torture and violence

Log start, "Hello again my name is Mackinze Maximus Kane and this is log 234, the day is September 15, of 2002, today was a complete failure the only thing I was abke to accomplish today was some more blood samples from test subject 'ANk' . The subject has been restless all day, it has not stopped yelling and crying, despite the multiple attempts to administrator some sleep medication it did not work, I should know by now that it will never work. I have been trying all sorts of different sleeping medications for many many years but to no avail. It seems that the healing properties in the subjects blood prevents its body from being put under completely.. if my hypothesis is correct then it mean that it's power or mind subconsciously protects itself from becoming....."too vulnerable."

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Pacing around his office nearly buring a hole into the carpet was the mad man Mackinze M. Kane. He seemes breathless and jumpy as he relayed the days events into his voice log. Mackinze was quite a special person. being a renound neurosurgeon and field medic, his astounding work was known all through out the countries big wig hospitals and small medical hospitals, if you found yourself in your nearest walk in clinic mention the name and watch as the doctors and nurses light up in joy and remembrance of the great surgeon. Veterans who knew the name Mackinze Maximus Kane would stand up and salute his bravery and his never yielding spirit commenting on his intense focus and shear tenacity.

He was well built man, very handsome too, all the ladies fawed over him, and if given the chance any lady in there right mind would have made him their husband on the spot. His dirty brown hair was always slicked back with what seemed liked ten pounds of hair gel. Despite that fact it made him look good, orderly and mature. His forest green eyes were always bright and optimistic, always shing with possibilities of new discoveries and adventures. He was an extremely nice man one loved by everyone around him.

But...that was a long time ago before he met her, the love of his life, 'Amara' and after he met her he just....disappeared, people searched and searched, but he was nowhere to be found.

If you have the gull to ask some say he went missing in action after returningto the field. Some say he ran away with his bride to a knew country to start a new life. Others think his new bride killed him and got away with it, but there are only 2 people in the entire world whi know the truth that would be Mackinze himself, and his test subject daughter Nova Kane.

Unbeknownst to the world 'Amara' has been gone for a very long time, a little bit after Mackinze disappeared from the public eye she showed up with a baby claiming it was his and then disappeares forever. It left him in a daze, to see her standing there emitting so much light while holding a bundle of joy in her arms, but its been 17 years since Mackinze saw his wife's beautiful shining form, and because of it all that remains of Mackinze Maximus Kane is a hollow shell of a man.

His once clean cut hair over the years grew long and shaggy, greasy and matted from his refusal to keep proper care of himself. His body soon lost all its muscles causing him to be soft and squishy, not entirely weak, but hes definitely weaker than what he used to be. After years of drinking to forget himself and this life, he had obtained a beer gut one the didnt hide very well under his clothing. His forest green eyes once filled with amazing wit and optimism were now dull, almost lifeless and foggy. The green color of his eyes had been diluted, stripped of its excitement and wonder and replaced with anger and bitterness, an anger that has turned him blind to his own hate and abuse and turned him away from his own humanity.

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"The subject was very unwilling to do any test today, it keep screaming and crying at me to leave it alone." A deep sigh rumbles the man's chest, pinching the bridge of his nose to collect his thoughts he continues. "Despite not getting anything donen like i mentionedearlier, I think I have discovered a new power that test subject 'ANk' possess so today was not a total loss I guess, but this power...disturbes me." The gangly man makes his way over to his desk where his old black desktop computer resides, sitting down in his old torn up black office chair he opens his computer to pull up todays camera footage in the medical room. Pressing play he sets the voice recorder down and focuses on the screen.

The video starts and it's nothing special at first glance, it looked just like a typical medical room, abit a fake one you would probably have see in a movie because some of the machines that resided within the room were not things you would find in typical hospital room. The operating table that lied dead in the middle of the room was adorned with mental steal cuffs on its edges large and strong enough to hold someone insanely powerfull. The big sensory deprivation tank that sat in the upper right corner of the room was a big and hollowed dome of pure titanium, a small door on the front which led into the big beast was wide open almost laying and waiting for its next victim.

In the upper left corner of the room is another camera and a glass cupboard full of glass beakers, small, big, clear or not he had them all. The cupboard also contained different medications of any and all kinds, things like, paralytics, antibiotics, analgesics, and anticoagulants. If you could name it was probably in that cabinet. A little off to the right of the cupboard was a big metal rolling try filled to the brim with, scalpels, syringes, gloves, and different rags some bloody some not.

After a moments pause, muffled screams come filtering through his office speakers. The screams and cries become louder and louder as himself and the test subject (Nova) come into view and it's not a pretty sight. He was all but dragging it by it's hair as it kicked and screamed at him to let it go, the subjects legs and arms are flaling in an attempt to stop him. As recent punishment he had started to starve the test subject more than normal, it's body was frail and shriveled nearly skin and bones, the hair on its head had turned into a dull copper orange instead of its normal fire red. The punishment was starvation because he caught it trying to escape... again, the subject has been getting bolder and bolder in its attempt to escape as of late and it become somewhat troublesome for Mackinze.

The video continues to play as he begins to speak once more. "I had relized that starving test subject 'ANk' would do no good in the long run having her health drop so low has made me worried that she could become easily killable in my tests, so I decided some solitary confinement would be a better option. I tossed two full loafs of bread into the tank, in hopes it would A. Be able to stay in there long enough to recover just a tad and B. To teach it a lesson that it has no purpose, no meaning, the only purpose it serves is my purpose, it needs to learn its place."

The screaming and crying continues over his voice becoming prominent again as he stops speaking. The screen switches angles to the camera in the upper left corner of the room. Once Mackinze finally reaches the door to the tank, the subject is screaming at the top of its lungs "LET GO OF ME YOU SON OF A BITCH, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, GET OFF OF ME, LET ME GO, LET ME GO, LET ME GO!!!!!" It kept saying these words over and over and over again until he picked it up and all but threw the subject into the tank. Its screams of anger turned into screams of pleas. "PLEASE, DAD STOP, PLEASE ITS ME DAD, ITS NOVA PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!!"

He doesn't spare her a second glance as he slams the door shut locking it and setting the code. There are loud and continuous bangs coming from the metal coffin but the screaming is gone cancled out by the the ferocious banging. The camera angle switches again to the camera above the main exit door, it captures Mackinze dusting himself off as he turns around and walks out of the room with a strange look upon his face.

Pausing the video he picks the recorder back up. "The test subject still seems to think there is a familiar bond between the two of us, it astounds me because that 'thing' is not my daughter despite the amount of times I've tried to instill that into its brain it still believes me to be its father.

'Taking a deep breath Mackinze scratches his scraggly beard in frustration'

We even have different blood for christ sake, the subjects blood is golden, almost glittery if you will, the blood, once abstracted, stays warm for 2 weeks after it leaves the subjects body. It has been found upon indigestion the blood can heal a mere human on the brink of death, you think a regualr humans blood could do that much less help make that?"

Mackinze moves the video along to get to where he wants too which is four hours after the subject was put into the deprivation tank. "After a small break I came back to check up on test subject, it had stopped banging on the wall of the tank thankfully and it was quiet, peaceful actually it had been some time since it been that quite in one of my labs." Chuckling to himself he plays the video again.

The video resumes from the camera above the door which has a clear view of the entire room. "I have known since it was born that test subject 'ANk' is an extremely powerfull being and if it was at its full potential I would have been dead years ago, but even after everything it's been through, after every test I've ever done, I didnt realize the subjects true will power...or it's raw strength."

The camera shows Mackinze milling about the room cleaning up the bloody rags and dirty tools.Five seconds go by on the footage before there is lound 'BANG'! rebounding around the room, the camera glitched and shook as did everything in the lab. Mackinze would have jump through the roof if he had the ablity. The camera switched to the camera in the upper left corner, it catches Mackinze spinning around and the complete look of horror on his face, another comes again 'BANG'! The camera glitches again and things started to fall to the ground, tubes, beakers, scapels, anything loose in the lab fell to the ground in ear shattering clangs. Mackinze runs to a closet next to the entrance and he appears to be rummaging around before he brings out shotgun pointing it directly at the tank. Another 'BANG'! rings through the lab more things fall and break but the unmistakable sound of groaning metal echos around the room, and now there is a gigantic dent in the lock of the tank looking exactly like the imprint of a fist. Mackinze loads his gun as quickly as he can with shaking hands and moves towards the door.

"I really didn't want to shoot my best test subject, I had come so far ive been cultivating this subject for seventeen years, it would be my end to try and start this project again, but it also hasn't been responding to me the way it used to, I think its finally decided to rebal against me, it may have thrown tantrums and tried to hurt me in the past but they were all half hearted attempts, but this, this was different." Commenting once again over the video Mackinze couldn't help but feel the goosebumps run down his spine as he relives the moment through the screen.

The angle switches for the last time to the camera above the door and there is one final 'BANG'! before the test subjects hand flew through the lock on the door. The metal around it mealting and splintering creating a gigantic hole in the doors locking system. The hand was not that of a shriveled starved being, no its was gigantic and muscular, glowing and radiating with heat that seemed very familar to Mackinze. The hand slowly retreated and in one final shove the door swung open so hard it was ripped off its hinges. The door falls to the floor in slow motion, as Mackinze advanced forward raising his gun "TEST SUBJECT 'ANk' YOU COME OUT OF THAT TANK THIS INSTANT OR I WILL GUN YOU DOWN HERE AND NOW!!!!"

A few seconds go by with nothing from the subject and Mackinze readies his gun to actually shoot but before he can speak again the slow dragging of feet could be heard within the dark tank. It only took moments for the subject to appear in the doorway, it didn't look healthy by any means but it looked better than when it had entered the chamber four hours ago. It's cheeks where full again round, cheeky, and glowing, its arms and legs putting on some mass to the point where you could no longer see her bones, its hair was no longer a copper orange but back to its fire red. Her entire body was glowing with a golden aura, emitting a blazing heat on his face and hands. Confusion was rolling all over Mackinzes face, but before he can utter another word the light surrounding the subject dimmed as did the heat, and the subjects eyes roll back into their head and they collapse to the ground.

"At this point I thought it was another ploy to escape given the fact it looked stronger, so I rang a warning shot into the tank." The video mirrors Mackinze's words with the sound of the gun going off. "However when it didn't move I figured it had exhausted all its power with those punches."

Mackinze sets the gun down slowly and approached the subject with caustion he flips the subject onto its back and deems it unconscious. Looking around the room he seems to grab a couple items from the floor.

"The subject fell too hard for my liking, I originally was planning to check for a concussion and maybe a blood sample in hopes to find and answer to her miraculous transformation, but what I saw instead was....death."

The video footage zooms in as much as it can to the subjects face, Mackinze reveals one of the items to be a small flashlight and he slowly lifts the subjects eyelid to shine the light upon it. Before he can even turn the flashlight on a faint glowing light illuminates his palms and the base of the flashlight.

"This part was a very intriguing yet a nerve-racking experience because instead of finding her normal iris her eye was...gold pure gold, it was emitting light and warmth onto my palm, like it's body had earlier. I checked the other eye and it was the same. I quickly took blood samples and stored them away as quick as I could. When I went to check the subjects eyes again after about 15 minutes its eyes where back to normal the regular green that should have been." Pausing the video Mackinze stands again opening the draw to his dest "I have no idea what happened in that tank, the blood samples I received today came back only slightly different but that was because it was reporting her growing health and not what caused the transformation in the first place, the one thing I do know is that....girl is dangerous extremely dangerous, if she was ever let into society, she would burn down the world as well know it."

Clicking the stop botton on his recorder Mackinze tosses it in to the drawer too tired to put it away properly in its case. Mackinze stares at the screen infront of him, eyes roaming the still picture of the video he can't help but feel the same way he did in that moment, scared, scared of what he created, scared of the things it could do, the abilitys he seemed to help cultivate within it are stirring and its only a matter of time before it breaks loose.

@taglist

@jayyeahthatsme

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ericfuentes · 9 months

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Due to my severe depressive state of being since my mom passed, I found very little motivation to live, let alone go to work. I feel I’m on the 3/4 side of that now but the sting of my harsh reality remains: not finding any value in life, I stopped working. whenever I did work, I took chances. You can’t take chances with other peoples lives. I’ve been let go from Lyft. The only job I’ve loved in all of my life. If ever a hard month I had, it is now. If ever there was a reason to feel sorry for myself, it is now. If ever I needed a reason to quit life, it is now. But I won’t. Calling my mom a tough cookie is like calling the Sears Tower in Chicago, a shack. My mom and I spoke about her death, this past year. It dawned on me that her impending death had ruled my subconscious mind for the past 10 years. Most of you know me to be a strong leader, one who’s solution oriented & one who isn’t still tied down by anxieties or the like. But I am. Incrementally, I have been holding back, holding breath for fear of my mom passing. It was ”That which we may not speak of.” She was fine talking about it. I was, am not fine. I have 3 mothers: Socorro, my biological parent, Olga, creative partner who’s headstrong in her convictions & my oldest sister, & Dora, who’s perspective is invaluable to any great change I make in ny life. Along with Gabriel, my father, hard working, never complains, just faithfully loved my mom, I was served well.

Too well.

There’s a line of distinction that separates healthy love from unhealthy. My parents, immigrants from another country, did the best they could to raise a healthy (on all fronts) boy. She knew what she wanted and she knew how to make it happen. How could she not; she helped her parents raise her siblings and contributed to the financial supporting of them. She’d been a mom 1000 times before I was assigned to her. He: raised on a farm, was very much a cowboy (speak when spoke to and use only the words to convey truth). NEITHER of them knew anything about mental healthcare nor did they address patterns in behavior that they couldn’t identify. They were not taught to look out for societal changes that would dramatically effect how their offsprings would react to this world. They just loved me.

Mexican love is different than other ethnicities. We have developed a miracle cure for everything be it a broken bone, a bee sting, or a broken heart. We call this amazing cure: food. When a mexican loves you, they will identify your biggest insecurity and call you by a nickname derived from that insecurity to help you cope with it. When you lose the love of a mexican, it’s not just a love gone, it’s a whole era gone because through love, we envelop you into our culture, our family, into our history.

My parents did the best they could but the love they shown me cannot be measured because it was off the charts. “No healthy. Too mush. Throw up!” Everything has always been taken care of for me by the small army I call my nuclear family. I don’t know how to adult, still at 47. I don’t know how to do a lot of things. I knew it when my mom was alive & I know it now. And so I feared with great anxiety the day I would be expected to walk on my own, without the presence of my savior. I don’t know how to be “Eric who’s lost his mom” or “Eric without safeguard” I hid from the reality that I am my one person and no one is responsible for my happiness except me. Well….. I walk on this earth known as “Eric, no mom”. But it is only one title. The one I choose to focus on today is “Eric motivated by his mother”. So I’ll use her example and her strength to pull her son out from his dark abyss and I’ll borrow from her accomplishments the confidence it takes to improve the quality of my life. Later, once I’ve reached at least the first plateau, I hope to use her joy, to dance again, her creativity to laugh again, and her foresight to lay down the appropriate foundation for her son to grow old, securely.

I can’t do office jobs and jobs that expect me somewhere at a set time, I will fail. IF YOU HAVE ANY JOB LEADS, please reach out through messenger.

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whiskeyworen · 2 years

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Tijja Lei - Writer’s Block

"Look at you..." She reached out and ran a nail down the side of his cheek. "How long has it been? And yet you still hold back."

She could see his reaction, no matter what he said next. Under her finger's caress, she could both feel and see the goosebumps raising on his skin. His raspy breathing as he tried in futility to resist her advances. Most of all, she could hear his heart hammering. So acute was her hearing that she could hear the panicked beating of his heart, of the blood swirling in his veins.

"I can give you that which you always desired..." She leaned in to brush her lips against his skin. With eyes closed, she could feel the heat of his skin against her lips as she crooned to him. Slowly, she slid her lips to his ear, and whispered softly. "...All you have to do is accept, and give me one thing in return."

She could feel his eyes on her, the unspoken question in them. What did she want? She chuckled softly into his ear, and leaned back a bit, taking in the sight of him with luminous, half-lidded eyes. With her hand gently cupping his cheek, she turned his head to the side, exposing the length of his neck, and then slowly pulled the collar of his tunic aside.

"All I want in return... is to feed...." She sighed with relish, a shiver traveling down her spine. The word had such need woven into it. It spoke of more than just the act of consuming, of devouring. As she lowered her lips -- her fangs -- to his neck, she felt his hand slowly, hesitantly raise to rest on the small of her back.

He did not try to pull her away.His hand merely touched her; the slightest encouragement, the gentlest indication. The weight of it on the base of her spine was an acceptance.

She smiled against the crook of his neck and shoulder... and then very carefully bit deeply. As the rush of hot blood filled her mouth, she heard his quiet gasp of surprise and -- . .

Tijja stopped writing and put the stylus down. Hrm. Did that sound okay? She ran through the lines a dozen times, trying to see it from a reader's viewpoint. She'd been working on the scene all day, scrapping idea after idea.

It was frustrating. She could absolutely see the scene in her head, how it would flow... but to put that into writing? To explain the nuances, the subtle details without getting all clinical about each little thing? So bloody hard to do.

She picked up a scrap of paper she'd scribbled on after last night's dream. All it said was 'what about the SMELL??' in messy scrawl. Tijja had been half awake when she wrote that. What did she mean by it?

Tijja put the paper down and sighed, reaching for her teacup. There was something missing from the scene, and without it, she just couldn't proceed further. To do so would be a mistake that would compound the rest of the story that came after. Doing rewrites at THAT point would be aggravating in the extreme.

Maybe I was thinking about the smell of the other person? Tijja mused, while inhaling the scent of her Canthan tea. The foreign, clean smell always helped her focus. I mean, in a strictly scientific, biological way, yes, everyone puts out pheromones, and there IS something to be said about enjoying the smell of a lover's skin. But how do I write that and not have it come out scientific, OR creepy? Because it IS creepy if you mention it aloud! How do I imply it's subconscious? Intuitive? Implied?

She sipped in silence with her eyes closed, focusing on the tea and nothing else. Clear the mind, clear the body. Calm the mind, and focus. Tijja recited her little mantras in her head. Over the years, they had helped her quite well when she became stressed out. This particular teahouse was down a quiet street, where traffic was light. Sitting on the veranda outside the shop was one of her favorite spots, and she found she gravitated here when she needed to relax. But today, she was still having trouble.

Perhaps it was just time to take a more determined break. Not just a short tea break.

Besides, she still needed to head down to the publisher and drop off the latest submission on behalf of "Lady Gray". At least THAT novel had been finished on time.

A beefy hand slapped down onto her table, rattling both the tea set and Tijja herself. She actually jumped in her seat, and had to readjust her glasses, blinking in surprise as someone sat down --uninvited-- at her table.

"Heya there, cute thing." A grubby-looking Asura with messy dreadlocks grinned at her as he leaned against the table on one elbow. "Now what's a pretty little specimen like yourself doing in Lion's Arch?"

Tijja just stared at him like he'd tossed a Risen flounder onto the table, trying not to recoil in her seat. One glance told her almost everything about him: the salt-crust in his hair and his hodge-podge attire of worn leather and jute. His coarse way of speaking even for an Asura; his sea-going accent was SO strong! The rusty cutlass at his side and the strangely well-maintained boot dagger in the ratty boots he wore.

"....You're a sailor. Aren't you." She didn't ask. Tijja stated, her voice flat and cold with disdain.

"Sure as the horizon is flat!" He grinned, puffing up his chest a bit and raising a floppy ear that she now noticed not only had a pair of rings in it, but what looked like an Alchemy-damned bite taken out of it. "I'm the Bosun's Mate on the great ship Phlunt's Folly. We're running the new trade route down to Elona!"

"How wonderful for you." Tijja tried not to let her lip curl, but her eyebrow twitched with an irritated tic. Why in the Eternal Alchemy did he have to sit at her table? Why did he choose her to bother?

He must have taken her derision for a compliment. "It sure is! Granted, the route is several weeks transit both ways! Don't exactly get to see many ladies down in Elona." He sniffed and shrugged. "Well, any Asura women anyway. Plenty of humans down there. Only Asura I ever see down there are those wishy-washy Priory types." He made a face, and made a dismissive gesture with his hand, wiggling labor-scarred fingers. "Short-ears, the lot of them."

Oh. So THAT's how it is. She felt her stomach turn a bit. He'd looked over and seen her sitting there, with her long, smooth, thick ears, and immediately locked in.

She'd never been able to pin down where it came from, but somewhere, somehow the longer an Asura's ears were, the more fleshy they were, the more attractive they were supposed to be. When she'd mentioned it to her various social contacts, they'd nodded and noted similar 'features' attractive to their various species.

Charr liked the musculature, the clearness of eyes, and the design of one's horns, among other things.

Norn liked those who could either match or outdo them in any number of challenges, and again the muscle thing for most of them. Drinking them under the table was quite common.

Sylvari didn't really seem to have specific things they liked, but some admitted to liking one's bark pattern, or the color or shape of their leaves, and other such things.

Humans... HUMANS. They had too many to count. Everything from size, to shape, to color of hair, to length of leg, to how much leg or chest was exposed -- with either gender. They perhaps, had the most varied interests, next to the Sylvari!

Damn the Alchemy for giving me these ears! she cursed the Universe, trying to resist the urge to reach up and tug on them. A movement like that would absolutely be misinterpreted; that would just spur this smelly sailor on!

As if to rub salt in the wound, her 'companion' leered at her, indicating her ears with a sharp-nailed, calloused, rope-burned finger. "...but then I get back here, and the first thing I see is this cute little knockout with the longest ears I've seen in years! And she's sitting alone, so, I decided 'Hey Brugg, why don't you go over and introduce yourself? You can keep her 'company'!" He made a little 'ta-da' gesture. "...and so here I am! Brugg! A pleasure to meet ya, sweetie!"

Tijja just stared at him coldly for several awkward seconds. Without breaking eye contact, she turned off her dataslate and returned the stylus to its side. Then she finished her tea with one long, loud, uncomfortable sluurrp. Finally, she stood up and started to walk away, leaving a handful of coin for her tea.

This wasn't part of Brugg's plan, apparently. Perhaps she was supposed to swoon over the muscular, tough sailor with his tales of foreign lands. Maybe let him touch her ears and sigh adoringly over the fact he'd chosen her to grace with his presence?

In any case, his smile faltered as she stepped away from the table. "Hey, wait! I just--"

He managed to make a single step before nearly falling on his face. Had he managed to catch himself on the table or the chair or something? He glanced down and... paused.

A pair of skeletal hands, reaching up out of a swirling green-black portal had clasped onto his boot and pants, firmly holding him in place. "What?.."

His eyes drifted slowly from the grasping bones, back to her, where she had paused midstep to show him the black-green glow coming from the tip of a small scepter in her hand, and for the first time recognized the icy cold stare she was giving him.

With her empty hand, she adjusted her glasses, the reflected glare of the sunlight hiding her own glare. "....Go find someone else to 'play' with. I'm not interested."

Wide-eyed, he nodded tightly, a shiver working down his spine. She offered him a slow, curt nod, and released him from the bones, before walking away at a swift pace.

It was about when she was a block away and very much out of sight of the unwanted suitor, she let her frustration out, grinding her teeth and growling. "Why do people like that always have to ruin my day?!"

Tijja stood there seething for a good minute, before taking a deep breath. Closing her eyes, exhaling, she straightened her glasses and adjusted her hair where it had fallen out of position. She had to keep her composure. It would not do to walk in to the publisher's with a rage face on.

. . A little while later, she walked into Kippo and Monroe's publishing house, up to the front desk. She waited patiently until the secretary came back from dealing with some issue in the back.

"Ah, Miss Tijja. Great to see you." The secretary smiled, leaning on the counter top. "Are you here to deliver Lady Gray's new manuscript?"

Tijja nodded and withdrew a fairly large sheaf of pages from her satchel. It wasn't the story she'd been working on when so rudely interrupted; this one was a completed work, ready for publishing. As Lady Gray's 'Editor', she knew she didn't need to submit it for editing. Which shortened the line of people that needed to be paid by one, and granted her a level of anonymity. All she had to do... was pretend she was her own editor.

"Here you go. She called it 'Here we Stand'. Fully edited by me, and ready to go." Tijja kept her face a tired, neutral, long-suffering expression, though secretly she did want to smile. It was always great handing in a new story for print. But she didn't like the attention that would be directed at her if people knew SHE wrote them.

Years ago, when she first started writing romantic fiction, she'd taken time to look at what was on the market. Most of it was typical; clinical Asura 'romance'... Courtly human encounters.... some rather salacious but entertaining stories based off Sylvari... things of that sort.

And then she'd happened upon the most unlikely of names. Snargle Goldclaw. A Charr writer who, if the term could be applied, was extremely...progressive. Possibly so progressive he'd left everyone in the dust.

Then again, no one else was writing about making love to a Branded, or someone having a passionate tryst with a Dredge. Or other such things. But this Snargle dared to dream.

It's just a shame that the way he wrote offended every single cell in Tijja's body. And when she learned how he presented himself in public, her repellance was complete. She deeply admired how progressive he was, as it opened new writing options, new pairings for her own works, but... By the Alchemy!

To the few friends she had, she'd made the observation: "Snargle's worst enemy isn't the audience who doesn't like his material, or his writing (though that does factor into things). It's that he proudly announces he wrote these things. He uses no pseudonym, so there is no buffer between him and everyone else. If he flubs up, offends someone, or embarasses someone, they know who he is. He just can't hide. But if you use a fake name, and you mess up, all you have to do is let that persona fade away, and come back as someone new. It gives you plausible deniability. Of course, there's factors to consider..."

So when she started to write, Tijja came up with the perfect plan. When it came to publishing, she would be her own editor, and the writer, per-say, would be Lady Gray.

Lady Gray, the reclusive, some say hermetic, writer, who makes her home in the upper reaches of Divinity's Reach, in a hard to-access manor on the protective city-wall.

The Lady Gray who no one really knew where she came from, but never questioned, since the unspoken web between nobles dare not be exposed.

The truth was, the manor was empty; Tijja merely used it as a front. It was fully furnished, and well kept by golems imported from Rata Sum. And behind a carefully concealled door in one of the rooms, there was a small Asura gate to her REAL apartment back in Rata Sum.

She'd met Snargle once or twice since then, at author gatherings in the publisher's offices. Tijja, of course, represented Lady Gray, since the hermit refused to come out. As such, Tijja had to be her proxy, which suited her fine.

Except when she ran into Snargle.

Who then proceeded to make a comment about her ears as crude and lewd as it was well-spoken and erudite, and then tried to finagle a 'personal meeting' between either herself and him, or Lady Gray and him.

To which she had flatly declined.

And repeated her decline every time he asked.

It got to the point she made it a goal to never get within eyeshot of him.

When she learned that Bangar Ruinbringer, Imperator of the Blood Legion-turn-Frost Legion had essentially put a bounty out on Snargle's head, with a decree that all his novels be burned the moment they are found....she wasn't really surprised. The only surprise was that Snargle had survived and not run into a single assassin. Possibly because he'd been surrounded by Pact at the time, and the protection of its Commanders.

"Ah, much obliged, much obliged." The secretary smiled, taking the manuscript and thumbing through it a little before putting it aside. "I'm afraid print might be a little ways off though; the director is off on a business junket and can't put his personal seal on it. We're hoping to get a communication line to him so he can at least give a verbal stamp, so we can move along with projects. But it's been nearly two weeks."

That surprised Tijja. "A business junket? Where to? Elona?"

"No. It's the most fascinating thing though!" The secretary leaned in conspiratorially, talking behind their hand. "It's to Cantha."

"Cantha?... you're serious?" Tijja's breath froze in her chest. She'd always loved Canthan tea, from the limited grown-in-Tyria breeds, and the food at the family-owned restaurants in the Canthan quarter of Divinity's Reach. To go to Cantha... "What's his plan there?"

"New market! We have NO idea what Canthan literature is like after what, two hundred years? And if we can get some of our books into circulation over there, imagine the gold that will pour in! Not to mention the fresh writing material to be found over there. That's why Kippo took a bunch of the authors with him as part of the junket. I'm... honestly surprised the Lady Gray and you are not there with them?" They looked at her with open puzzlement. "Did she not get the letter invitation? I mean, everyone got one. Even Snargle."

Tijja's heart and stomach suddenly dropped into a pit of jagged ice shards.

"Letter invitation? No, I -- I mean, I don't believe Lady Gray recieved such a letter. But I will go check on her behalf; perhaps it was just late in arriving?" She offered a weak smile. It barely covered the screaming rage she had inside at that moment. SNARGLE?! Everyone including SNARGLE got an invitation and I didn't?! He's in Cantha RIGHT NOW, and I'm standing here smiling like a damned bookah!

"Well, if you find it, maybe you can get the Lady a berth on one of the merchant ships heading to Cantha now. I hear the border for trade has really opened up, and everyone and their canine is trying to get their foot in the door."

"I'll...take that under advisement, thank you." She replied dully, and turned away, walking out the door. As the thoughts whirled in her mind, her walk became a jog, and then a full-out run as she headed for the Gate to Divinity's Reach. She had to check.

****

Tijja's heart stopped the moment she spotted it, and the sense of dread she'd had since talking to the clerk racked up another notch. It must have fallen out of the mailbox outside the gate of Lady Gray's estate, the last time she'd gotten mail. Which had been nearly three weeks prior. It sat, hidden in a bordering, decorative bush alongside the stone of the property wall, hidden from sight and weather.

She stood there for a moment, staring at it with a lump in her throat and a cold hand grasping her heart. She'd missed out on an opportunity to go to Cantha because...because she hadn't paid attention when she got the mail.

As much as she wanted to start screaming and kicking things right there and then...that would not do well for her own public image, nor that of her 'client'. Instead, she slowly and carefully picked up the letter, headed inside, and carefully shut the heavy oak doors behind her, locking them.

Once inside, and fully secured in her own -- her client's -- home, she opened the letter, and quickly read it. Yes... it was an invite to join the Cantha trip. Tijja took a deep, lung-filling breath... and proceeded to violently crumple the paper in her hands. She crushed it so tightly that her nails punched through it in half a dozen places. A sound began to come from her; quiet at first, but with growing volume. She began to keen, a high pitched tone that wasn't quite a scream, wasn't a growl, wasn't a whine.

As her rage began to vent itself through that sound, Tijja stomped her foot down hard on the carpetted floor. Then again. And again. Each time with more violence, more force put into it until she was pumping her arms with each enraged stomp, punctuated by her tea-kettle shrill.

A few minutes of this, and not only was she out of breath and panting, and her vision was full of stars, but her immediate rage had subsided, replaced by only the more managable irritation she normally felt. It was, however, sharpened by a cold shard of self-directed anger that twisted in her heart. The crumpled paper eventually fell loose from her grasp to bounce across the carpet. Once again, she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, taking her glasses off and rubbing the bridge of her nose to ease the growing headache she had. "It's okay... it's okay..." she told herself, taking careful, slow breaths to calm down. "So they're all in Cantha, and you're stuck here. So what? You can find your way to Cantha, can't you?"

Tijja began to pace in the foyer, thinking deeply. After a minute, she paused in her journey.

"I could wait for them to come back?" She said it brightly, as if someone had suggested it to her. Her expression dropped; "That would be far too late. For all I know they're on a six month trip."

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Perky. "I could book a spot on a freighter headed to Cantha!" That one had a bit of merit... she tipped her head, one long ear half-raised as she mulled it over. "...Those freighters might take weeks to get there. And if I remember right, most are headed to Elona. Better trade -- for now anyway."

Thump thump thump. More carpet worn by her pacing. As she pondered, she started tracing one of the fractal designs with her path, entertaining herself until something popped into her mind.

Just as she was placing a foot on the central design pattern that vaguely resembled the Rata Sum city-cube, the centerpiece of the elaborate design, something about the freighters clicked in her mind, like a gear snapping into position.

"I could book a cabin...not on a freighter ship, but a freighter airship." She breathed, eyes widening.

That's right. Trade with Cantha was opened now, but it'd take weeks for the larger, more cumbersome sea freighters to make the journey. A journey fraught with peril, in the form of bad weather, lost Risen fleets that simply didn't care that Zhaitan was gone, and whatever nightmares the depths of the Endless Ocean even spawned. By comparison, airships would be much faster, and would be able to at least fly over or dodge more than half of those obstacles.

"An airship. I need to bribe my way onto an airship..." Yes, that was it. That was the way. That was her key to Cantha. She had to move fast though; Tijja had utterly no idea when the next airship left for Cantha. With that in mind, she scrambled for her chambers, to make preparations.

****

Tijja looked up in barely concealed awe as she stepped into the Aerodrome. The tremendous structure, from the outside resembled (at least from the front) a stingray or manta ray. Inside though, it was frankly amazing. Spread throughout the miles long and deep structure, hanging from docking clamps, scores of airships from the old Pact fleet were being refurbished, repaired, or disassembled. Others were clearly smaller, civilian owned 'yacht' airships, and a few had logos she recognized as the Priory, the Consortium, and of course, the Black Lion Company. Really hard to miss that lion's head logo.

None of the ones inside the building appearred to be close to launch, and as she asked around, she discovered that airships not requiring maintenance were docked on external docks. When a ship was finished inside, it was moved outside, and to spare the view in Lion's Arch, they had built the docks on the far side of the structure.

"So there's airships just... attached to the building out there?" She asked a charr engineer who was tightening bolts on a detached engine unit.

"Yup. You've seen the buildings in LA, right?" She nodded, and he continued. "If you've ever noticed those staggered wood beams sticking out of the buildings, it's kinda like that. O'course, those ones were for footing while those buildings were being put up. The docks are just really big metal gangplanks sticking out of the Aerodrome. Big enough to run a couple of fully loaded transport carts in both directions. Anyway, there's a couple of dozen docks out there."

"Do you know if any of those ships have cabins I could rent, and are headed to Cantha?" She asked hopefully.

"Nah, I wouldn't know, little lady." He laughed and banged the side of the engine unit with his wrench before signalling a coworker above with a wave of his hand. As the unit started to rise, lifted by the cables lashed around it, he glanced at her. "I mean, there's probably some, but I'm just a greasepaw. I fix'm up, but by the Flames do I know where they go to."

"Alright... Thanks anyway." She replied, and he waved her off, as the next disassembled component was lowered for his inspection.

****

There has to be at least one airship heading to Cantha. It can't ALL be sea-freighters. Tijja thought to herself as she wandered the various docks. She'd started at the first and was working her way dock by dock, talking to quartermasters, sailors, anyone who looked like they knew where 'that boat' might be going. And she was starting to panic.

"Is this seriously all that's left?" She wondered with rising fear, looking from one ship to another. A number of airships had the symbol of the Consortium on them, but she learned rapidly from talking to crew on the docks that you did not want to ride in a Consortium ship. If she did, she'd end up bankrupt and stranded at the end of her journey, and she wouldn't end up where she wanted to be.

The Pact ships still in dock came in two flavors; Vigil ships that were acting as patrol ships around Lion's Arch, and down in Elona in places 'freed' from Palawa Joko.... and Priory ships, which seemed to be dedicated to cultural uplift missions and archeological studies -- guarded by the previously mentioned Vigil ships.

There were no Order of Whisper ships -- so far as she could tell. From her own reading about that secretive order, they probably had spies on all the other ships. They didn't need ships of their own when everyone else did the hard work for them.

A few were nobleman's yacht vessels, panelled in ivory white plate and golden filigree, or whatever fancied the owner. She doubted she could get on one of those ships easily. It'd take too much time to ingratiate herself to the host through garden parties in Divinity's Reach for her to get to Cantha in time. That, and she hated dealing with smug human nobles.

She was at her wit's end when she spotted one more ship on the end of a long dock, almost hidden from view. It was at the absolute furthest airdock on the backside of the building. There was a steady flow of golem-lead carts of materials heading towards it, marked with different company icons. The ship itself had no company marking she could see, but the presence of Lionguard soldiery guarding the dock at least told her they'd passed muster for trade. It looked to be a fairly large ship too, which might mean more room.

She glanced up at the number of the dock, memorizing it. "Dock 42..."

Tijja followed the supply train to the ship, at first walking, and then jogging, and finally running full out. She skidded to a halt before a hardlight barrier at the portal to the ship, and the attendant who stood there, checking off items on a clipboard as golems and carts trundled through into what was clearly the bay of the ship.

"...Can I help you?" The man asked, tone flat. He didn't so much as raise an eyebrow at her, though he did stare, even as he checked more items off the list without looking. "This is a private dock."

"I... need transportation..." Tijja gasped out, catching her breath. She hadn't run like that in ages. I need more exercise. She looked up at the attendant, and offered a shakey smile, pushing her glasses back up her nose. "I...need to go.... to Cantha... Is this ship (whew) heading there, by chance?"

"I do not believe I am authorized to disclose our destination." The man said woodenly, tilting his head. "If you wish, I can contact my employer and see if they can help you."

"Please!" Tijja nodded. "Anything!"

The man gave a short but slow nod, and then stepped over to some kind of device next to the man-door of the bay, tapping a key on it. An armored eyelid snapped open, and a blue, spherical golem eye floated out a few inches, before turning to face the man. He muttered a few words, too low for Tijja to hear, and a waveform pattern appearred on the golem eye. She could hear a reciprocal sound, but it was far too quiet to hear, especially next to the stomping golems and the sounds of the cart wheels rolling on the metal plate right next to her.

She could tell they were talking about her though, as the man's gaze hardly wavered from her, and the mechanical eye swivelled to examine her at least twice.

After a few more short exchanges, the man nodded, a gesture returned by the eye before it sank back into the wall and the lid snapped shut over it. He turned to her, the same blank expression on his face. "You will be attended to shortly. Please wait here. I need to return to my duties."

Then he was back to comparing his clipboard to the incoming freight, without a single additional word to her.

Such a strange fellow. Tijja thought, perplexed. But that was hardly her concern, and she decided to make herself comfortable.

****

Some twenty minutes later, just as the supply train was ending and the loader golems were returning to the docks, the human-sized door opened, and a middle-aged human stepped out, heavy steel boots clanking on the dock. He patted the attendant on the shoulder and indicated with a tip of his head that they should go inside, before turning towards Tijja.

She'd been sitting on a pile of rope that had been left to the side, and she stood up with as much decorum as she could. She was still fairly embarrassed by panicked way she'd rushed up to the ship, so Tijja straightened her spine and put on her best neutral face. "Are you the Captain?"

The man raised his eyebrow a little, making the scar that crossed over that eye wiggle a little. His eye seemed unaffected by the wound, she could see, but he too, wore glasses. "In a manner of speaking. We don't have an actual captain, but for all intents and purposes, I can serve the role when I need to. And you are?..."

Tijja gave him a slight bow, fist to her heart. "My name is Tijja Lei. I am the editor and agent for Lady Gray, and on her behalf I had hoped to rent a berth on your ship if you are headed towards..." She stumbled a bit. Because of the newness of the destination, she felt that by asking she was asking the impossible. "...towards Cantha."

"Cantha?"

"My employer is willing to pay whatever it takes to get there as quickly as is reasonably appropriate." Tijja reached to her belt and pulled a small satchel off.

"Miss, this is a privately-held ship." He informed her politely. "We don't take passengers. Our ship is not a cruise liner."

She didn't know what a 'cruise liner' was, but she doubled-down. "I don't need much space, or even a cabin. I'll even take a hammock down by the engines if that's all there is. But I need to get to Cantha. And so far as I can tell, the only ships headed to Cantha are ocean freighters, and they'll take weeks to get there. Maybe months."

"So you thought you'd hitch a ride on a random airship and hope it was going that direction?" He crossed his arms, bemused. "What if I told you it was one-thousand gold for the trip? Would your employer commit to that?"

Her mouth dried up. That was a huge chunk of change. She could afford it... but she'd definitely need her next book to sell like nothing else. When the average peasant might see fifteen silver a YEAR, the concept of a thousand gold was insane. "If... if that is the price, then I'm sure she would agree. She... wants me in Cantha as soon as possible."

The man blinked in mild surprise, and considered her. In a softer tone he asked "What is it your employer wants you to DO when you get to Cantha, if I may ask?"

"My mission is two-fold. I need to find my publisher there, an Asura named Kippo and... deal business with him." More like grab him by those upturned lapels and throttle him. She grumbled to herself. "Then I am to absorb as much of modern Canthan culture as I can to bring back to the Lady Gray for her next novel. I'm not exactly going there for 'pleasure'."

He hmmed a little, looking away to see the last of the dock golems pass out of the ship through the hull portal, and the energy barrier there. As it passed through, its eye flashed three times, letting him know its memory circuit had been blanked so it wouldn't have records of what it saw inside.

"So your client and employer is a novelist of some kind, and you're on an info mission for them, but also need to locate your publisher."

"That's the jist of it."

"And you think my ship is headed to Cantha."

"I'm hoping it. The only ships headed that direction are Pact ships and... they won't let me on. I'm not Pact."

"Well, yes, I doubt a military ship would want a civilian hanging around." He shifted slightly, scratching his chin. "....If we let you on, there are conditions."

"Name them." Tijja stepped forward. She was ready for anything.

"First is you would be required to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement. Anything you see inside this ship is not to be repeated or duplicated in any way. And that goes for your client's story writing."

He counted off on his fingers. "Second is that while onboard, you will only have limited access to the ship's interior. Don't think of trying to wander into restricted areas. We have some very good defenses and I'd hate to see a 'guest' get injured."

"Okay....Deal."

The man nodded, and then smirked a bit. "Third is that yes, we are headed to Cantha...after we unload this cargo in Amnoon. We've taken a commission from the Priory to drop off relief supplies. That takes priority, and then we'll head for Cantha."

"Understood. I agree, on behalf of the Lady Gray, to all terms."

Almost by magic, he pulled out a dataslate, one with a smaller square screen inset in the corner of the larger one. "If you'll read through this then, please, and press your thumb against the smaller square when you're done?"

Tijja took the slate and scrolled through the asuran script, skimming over the legalese and just making sure she wasn't signing her property away. Damn, they really went overboard with this. I've never seen a contract user-agreement this complex. Not even on a golem! The Council would be absolutely jealous of this! When she was satisfied, she jammed the flat of her thumb against the smaller screen.

To her amusement, it recorded a copy of her thumbprint, and then the device began printing off a paper copy of the agreement. Taking the device from her, the man waited until it was done, tore off the paper and showed her a copy of her thumbprint on it, and then gave it to her. "There. You are now contracted for the trip to Cantha. Travel fee will be fifty gold; that's simply for the quarters you'll be assigned, travel to Cantha, and food. Return is up to you; if you wish to return to this ship, no additional fee will be incurred, as round-trip will be open. But if you wish to stay past our return date, you may seek your own transport, or we will... work something out for you. Our copy of this contract will remain in our data-files, while yours is that paper copy. We will leave tomorrow morning, so if you need to gather your things, you have a little time."

"Thank you, sir. Both myself and the Lady Gray appreciate it."

"Please, call me Cyrus."

5 notes · View notes

dienamights · 3 years

Text

Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 6.7K

» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.

» Warning(s): Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!

Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡

Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol

» Masterlist | Requests

Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.

And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.

“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.”

“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.

You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to-

You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.

Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.

She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.

“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.

“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?”

“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”

She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.

“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”

You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.

So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now.

You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.

“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.

“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her.

Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-

Music?

You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week.

The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.

So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.

“Welcome!”

“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”

“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.

Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No! He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?

Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.

“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.”

Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!

All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario.

At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.

You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,”

“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-”

“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.

He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.

He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.

“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.”

Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.

“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.

“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.

“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight.

He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.

“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn’t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it.

Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.

Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.

Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.

Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.

You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?

“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”

The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”

Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?”

But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.

The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.

Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”

“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.

His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.

Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.

“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.

“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”

“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.

“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.

Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.

“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high.

Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.

His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.

“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.

“Say you love me.”

You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.

“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.

“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.

You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.

You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.

“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”

“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.

You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.

Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.

His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.

Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.

He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly.

Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you.

“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.

“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.

“You better say you do too, becau-”

“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed.

With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.

Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.

“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.

But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.

Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”

“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”

aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

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adoringhaikyuu · 3 years

Text

you’re horny on your period

characters: aone + atsumu + kageyama + kenma + (gn!reader)

request: hey babes, can i request hq boys (of ur choice, but with tsumu on it pls) with a fem s/o whos on her period and very horny? lol, if ur uncomfortable with it i'll totally understand • by anonymous

warnings: horny tings, suggestive tings, period sex mentions but nothing actually happens <3

notes: everyone is 18+ in this !! the reader has their period obviously but there are no pronouns used so technically it’s gn :) i actually rly like this one!

aone

you tried to get over it, but it was no use

it’d been an hour and you were still needy, an unsatisfied ache in the pit of your stomach and between your legs, not just because of your cramps

you were debating telling aone because you didn’t to bother him and period sex could be messy and some might even say gross

but of course, like the observant boyfriend he is, he noticed something was bothering you

aone walked into your bedroom, immediately sensing your discomfort. he stopped in front of the bed where you were sitting. his voice was gentle, despite his serious exterior but you could tell he was worried. “cramps?”

you paused, deciding to speak before you changed your mind. “yeah, but that’s not really what’s bothering me...”

he raised his brows, silently asking you to explain so he could help you.

“i...” you rubbed your thighs together, shuffling on the bed nervously as you focused your eyes on the sheets rather than his curious eyes. “i’m just feeling kind of needy?”

he stayed standing, “oh...would you like me to help?”

“yes–no?” you looked up to see him tilting his head at you, confused. “i just know some people find it gross and it can be messy, you know? don’t wanna be a bother.”

“your issue is the mess?”

you nodded and he hummed before leaving without another word. you sunk down a bit. you were fully prepared for it to go either way, but the rejection still kinda hurt a bit. you were about to go to the shower to take care of yourself when aone came back into the room, a towel and wipes in his hand.

you looked up at him shocked, “what––”

he put the towel down and set the wipes aside, “for the mess.”

you immediately got up and pulled him in for a kiss, making his eyes widen slightly before he gave in, holding you by the waist. you mumbled against his lips, “i love you so much.” when you pulled away, you noticed the light blush and subtle smile on his face.

he licked his lips. “i love you too.”

atsumu

normally when you were on your period, you wouldn’t let tsumu touch you tbh

period sex was a hassle

and normally you could control yourself or just take care of yourself on your own time in the shower or while he was out

but today for some reason, you needed him

well you knew the reason actually––

as soon as atsumu came home, drenched in sweat from the gym, his grey tank top practically glued to his torso. you could see his neck shining and even his hair was wet, which you saw once he took off his cap.

he set things down and immediately ran over to you on the couch to give you a quick kiss. “hey babe,” he grinned and stood up straight, stretching his arms behind his head, which wasn’t helping you at all. “damn that workout was intense, i’m beat. i’m gonna head to the shower, okay? then we can cuddle.”

you opened your mouth but didn’t say anything, nodding instead. he smiled and headed towards the bathroom but he only made it about three steps before you stopped him with a call of his name, the sight of his back only furthering the feelings you had.

he turned back, “yeah?”

you paused, “i um...” you sighed, “i need you.”

you could see a smile forming it’s way onto his face slowly, not wanting to get his hopes up too soon. he always wanted to help you out on your period but you’d never let him.

“like need me need me?”

you nodded “but we’ll only do it in the shower!”

the smile finally burst on in his face. he made his way over to you again and planted a big kiss on your lips, groaning happily when you moaned lightly.

“on second thought another workout doesn’t sound too bad.” he winked and smiled cheekily before throwing you over his shoulder and running to the bathroom, ignoring your yelp.

“what got you so worked up anyway?” he asked casually, stepping into the bathroom.

he set you down and you looked up at him sheepishly, “you...”

he grinned smugly, his hands reaching for your shirt. “oh i am so blowing your back out–”

kageyama

you tried to ignore what you were feeling, not wanting to ruin the moment since you and kageyama loved to do this every week

have a movie night and just relax

and you now he’d been working really hard lately so he deserved some rest

but you had a problem

you kept fidgeting in your seat next to him, trying to either relieve yourself slightly or make it go away, you weren’t too sure

and to be honest you weren’t really paying attention to it and kageyama could tell

after twenty minutes or so into the movie, he asked you what was wrong but you waved him off, assuring him it was nothing

but you couldn’t help but focus on him, the sharp cut of his jawline, the curve of his lips

then he put his hand on your thigh and you got to thinking of the feeling of his hands on you

and that sent you down a tunnel of unholy thoughts

kageyama felt your fingertips tracing the veins in his hands and tried to ignore it at first, keeping his eyes trained on the tv. but when you let your fingers trail up along his arm as well, his hand subconsciously squeezed your thigh and his eyes widened when you let out a quiet moan.

you both paused and kageyama turned his head slowly, eyes wide and looked at you, his lips parted. “are you–” he swallowed, trying to calm himself down. “okay?”

you looked over at him, trying to act innocent. “mhm. just tickled, that’s all.”

he nodded and turned back to the screen, and you tried to as well, but you kept glancing back at him, debating with yourself about whether or not you should say something. you didn’t want to be selfish and disrupt the movie, but you also couldn’t ignore what you were feeling, it was too intense.

it lasted about five minutes before he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “you know i can see you watching me, right?”

you felt your cheeks heat up and you huffed. “i’m sorry i just...” he turned to face you fully, curious and a bit concerned. his hand trailed up to your inner thigh, completely innocently and that’s when you decided you couldn’t hide it anymore.

“i’m horny tobio.”

his eyes brightened and he stuttered for a bit, “o–oh. well––do you want me to help?” he started to move closer but you looked to the side and he stopped.

“it’s just––i’m on my period.” when he didn’t say anything for a few seconds you looked back to find him staring at you blankly.

he tilted his head and looked from side to side. “and?”

you opened your mouth and closed it. “well...i’m, you know...bleeding...doesn’t that bother you? it’ll take more like effort and i know you’re tired––”

he cut you off, placing a hand under your chin, a shy smile on his face. “i don’t care about that. plus wouldn’t it help with your cramps?”

you nodded, “well, only if you make me cum.”

his brows furrowed, offended. “i always make you!”

“yeah you do.” you laughed, taking his hand in yours, making him smile at you. “but are you sure you want to do this now? it might get messy.”

he leaned in and kissed your cheek before pulling back to look at you earnestly, his eyes a shade darker. “i don’t care.” he kissed you on the lips, “all i care about,” his hand tilted your head and pulled you closer, whispering against your lips. “is making you feel better.”

kenma

kenma could tell something was off about you

he knew you were on your period but there was something else that he couldn’t figure out

he was waiting for you to tell him but you never did

the thing is, you’d just moved in together a few months ago and while you’ve had a couple periods in the same house

(which he’s totally normal about)

you haven’t done anything while you were on your period

normally you’d take care of yourself, but you felt a little self conscious about doing it in your shared house for some reason

and kenma like never left the house

sure, he had his headphones on a lot but still––

so you were a little tense and though you thought he was distracted, he definitely noticed

kenma stepped into your room and you smiled up at him before going back to your phone, thinking he was switching from the ps4 to the pc set up in your bedroom. but he didn’t, he came and stood next to your side of the bed, making you look up at him in surprise.

“oh hey ken,” you sat up, your legs pressed tightly together. “what’s up?”

he looked at you for a moment before speaking up. “nothing...what’s wrong with you?”

your brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”

he sighed. “i can tell something’s wrong...” he looked down, a bit shy. “i was waiting for you to come to me about it but you never did. was it something i did?”

your eyes widened, he’d noticed? “no––no you didn’t do anything wrong babe.”

“oh.” he nodded, crouching down beside you, resting his chin on the mattress. “then what is it? i can tell it’s not nothing.”

you swallowed and set your phone down before looking down at him. “i just...” you sighed, “i’m kind of worked up...and i was too nervous to do something about it.”

his eyes widened this time. “oh––”

you looked away. “yeah.”

“well you don’t have to be nervous about that.” he stood up, a small smile on his face. “that’s perfectly fine.”

you looked up at him, “oh, really?”

he nodded, “of course.”

you smiled, “oh thank you. so how long are you staying out for?”

his brows furrowed, “what? why would i leave the house––”

“wait you wanna stay?––” you paused, “well can you at least put your headphones on and close the bedroom door on your way out?”

he blinked at you. “how can i help you if i’m not in the room?”

you blinked back. “you want to help me?”

he blushed and nodded sheepishly, “yeah...why wouldn’t i?”

you stuttered a bit, “well i just––you know i’m bleeding, that could get messy...”

he paused and glanced around the room seemingly in thought, and you figured that he was rethinking the whole situation until he spoke up again. “well i want you to be comfortable and the shower isn’t the best place for that...so how about i just get a towel to put here instead?”

you stared at him for a few seconds, “each day i fall more and more in love with you.”

he blushed even deeper and tried to hide his smile as he turned around, “shut up––i’m going to get the towel.”

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ericspinkhair · 3 years

Text

quarantine longings

pairing: best friend!kevin x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: you and your best friend have sex because quarantine made you horny

warnings: best friends to lovers, takes place during the pandemic, spoiler of 356 days (but not the end, just generally the plot), no use of condoms but only the pill, creampie, sexual fantasies, fingering, hand-job, sex, slight angst at the end if you squint

a/n: I would literally die for kevin, I love him so much. I'll be writing a multiple parts series about him after I'm done writing scenarios for every member first.

requests are open!

masterlist + requests

you slammed your foot hard against the wall and cursed in pain. you hopped on one foot to your bed, holding your other leg in agony and tasted blood as you bit your lip to keep the volume of your suffering groans in check. someone knocked on the door.

'are you okay?' your roommate asked concerned.

'no, leave me alone, kevin,' you croaked out. you wanted to suffer by yourself.

there was an awkward silence and then you heard him sigh. soon after, the door next to your room closed shut.

why were you so frustrated, one might ask? well, the pandemic was kicking your butt and you just couldn't take it anymore. when the news of the virus had first spread, no one thought it would become this serious. but suddenly everyone was walking around with masks and spent most of their time staying at home.

after graduating high school, you and kevin had decided to move in together for college because both of you were broke and couldn't afford to live alone. you had been best friends since middle school and had been convinced that it was a smart idea at the time.

and everything went smoothly for the first one and a half years. however, after not seeing anyone else since the start of the pandemic over a year ago, it became increasingly difficult to share an apartment, but not in the way one might assume. you were neither sick of each other nor did you fight a lot. to tell the truth, it was quite the opposite.

earlier, before you had kicked the wall in anger, the two of you had painted together. kevin was majoring in art and, since you didn't have anything better to do, you joined him while he did projects for his classes. you might have been majoring in journalism but you had always liked drawing and painting, even though you weren't particularly skilled. you were a naturally clumsy person, always tripping over air and dropping things. today you were hecticly moving around your hands while telling him about a stupid video you had seen and you accidently let go of the brush in your hand. it hit the side of kevin's face, leaving a wide splodge of red paint on his right cheek.

to get back at you, he jerked his paint brush and splattered some green color on your white shirt. you saw this as a challenge and soon both of you were both drenched in the colors of the rainbow, laughing hysterically on the floor, not caring that you were spreading the paint on the poor carpet.

you turned your heads to look at each other and you felt absolutely in peace. you loved this man and couldn't be more glad that it was him and not anyone else you were stuck with inside of this apartment.

he stood up to take off his stained shirt and your smile quickly faded off your face. your lips slightly parted and you couldn't help but stare at his now exposed biceps and abs.

your mouth watered and you felt heat pooling between your legs as you took your time to study his architecture. thoughts about how badly you wanted him to thrust into you while his strong arms held you up invaded your mind. you tried to shake them off but it was impossible.

occasions like this were slowly becoming a common occurrence for you.

having mostly stayed inside for over a year, also meant that you didn't have sex for that long. it's not like you were the horniest person on the planet but you still had needs that were being neglected. with kevin being home all the time you didn't even dare to masturbate, scared that he would be able to hear you through the frustratingly thin walls. you must have gone insane with all the lust building up inside you and that's why you suddenly craved to have sex with your best friend. this whole thing was destroying everything. it was hard to act normal when he was making you this nervous and heated but you tried to pretend that everything was fine anyway for the sake of your friendship.

that was the reason why you were angry and had hurt yourself. you hated the way you felt about your best friend and you hated the pandemic for not giving you an outlet to escape so you could recollect yourself.

what you weren't aware of was that kevin was no stranger to the exact same frustration.

he would need more than his ten fingers and ten toes to be able to count the amount of times he had to run to the bathroom to hide his boner because he had done so much as look at you bend over or stretch. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable but it was a challenge to try and calm down his hormones.

whenever he jacked off, images of you flashed through his mind; your sweet curves and pink lips drove him insane.

last week, you two were cooking together and you had asked him to get the salt. he stood behind you to reach for it on the highest shelf. he was forced to press his crotch against your butt cheeks and his dick hardened against his will. he quickly handed you the salt, excused himself and ran off before you could figure out what had happened.

he might not have known the cause of your sudden outburst but he sympathized with your fury because he had a lot of pent up anger towards covid as well.

he lay in his bed and tried to focus on the book he was reading but he couldn't tune out the groans coming from the room next to his. he cursed.

'stop it!' he was panicking as he saw a familiar tent forming in his pants. your sounds triggered some weird perverted part of his brain that sent signals right to his genitals. his dick was hardening and he saw no other solution to his problem than to give in to his subconscious desires.

he pulled down his pants just far enough so that his cock had enough room to spring out. it only needed a few strokes before it stood tall and angry. kevin pressed his head into his pillow and moved his hand fast. he wanted to get over with it quickly. he emptied his cum on his stomach while imagining your greedy little mouth being stuffed by his cock. he lay there panting as yet another round of shame flushed over him.

'get yourself together,' he whispered, mentally slapping himself.

***

'do you want to order japanese or italian?' you asked kevin. today was friday which meant it was time for your weekly tradition of ordering take out and watching a movie.

'definitely italian. we've already had japanese for the past four days. I need something else for a change,' kevin complained and shuddered at the thought of having to eat sushi again. the japanese restaurant prepared absolutely delicious food but he just couldn't stand it anymore.

you laughed at his pained facial expression. 'fine, italian it is.'

within twenty minutes the doorbell rang and after about half a minute kevin came back with two huge boxes.

he opened them on the small table situated in front of your couch and the smell of freshly cooked pasta seasoned with basil made your stomach growl.

kevin wanted to dig in already but you stopped him. you had to choose a movie first.

'let's watch tall girl. I saw everyone hate on it on tiktok,' you suggested.

'I think we should watch 365 days, that was all over my for you page as well,' kevin argued. you hadn't heard of it so you weren't sure whether it would be the right movie for you. the rule was that it had to be as bad as possible.

'according to what I have heard, it's apparently even worse than 50 shades of grey,' kevin added which piqued your interest. the both of you had watched 50 shades about two months ago and you were honestly shocked by how awful it actually was. you couldn't understand why everyone had been so obsessed with it when it was first released. if 356 days was really worse, then you'd hit the jackpot. you clapped your hands.

'fine, you win. I swear if the movie isn't as horrible as you say it is then you owe me something!' he intertwined his pinky with yours to promise.

watching horrible movies was way better than watching good ones. making fun of bad storylines, stupid characters or horrible editing was one of your favorite past times.

'I guess I'll have to add are you lost, baby girl to the top 10 worst lines ever spoken. who thought ah yes this is sexy, let's have him repeat it over and over again', you complained, shoving some pasta into your mouth.

'so he's like I won't do anything without your permission while he is literally groping her boobs against her will, like make it make sense, massimo', added kevin, ruffling his hair in frustration. he almost completely forgot about the food.

'so let me get this straight: he drugged her, kidnapped her, tied her up, hung up a painting of her just because he saw her face when his dad was shot?'

'totally relatable.' both of you giggled.

you were enjoying complaining about the plot. it was horrible.

there were plenty of erotic scenes but they were honestly so funny and kinda gross that you could bare it without really being affected by them. kevin, on the other hand, had placed a pillow over his hard-on to hide the embarrassing fact that these terrible, smutty scenes had turned him on.

and then the infamous boat scene came.

massimo and laura had a huge fight, she fell of the boat, he saved her and now she was suddenly so in love with him that she begs him to fuck her. which he does.

you felt your panties become increasingly wet as the couple had steaming hot sex.

'this is embarrassing but I'm so horny,' you admitted but in a way that should have suggested that you meant it as a joke. something about this statement stirred something in kevin.

'well, what can I say?' he replied and lifted the pillow. your pupils widened at the sight of your best friend's bulge.

his eyes darkened and he looked at you with lust clearly written on his face. you reciprocated his stare with the same intensity. you tried to focus on his dark brown orbs instead of his boner but the image you had just seen was present in your mind.

his gaze shifted to your lips and, before you knew it, kevin climbed above you and pressed your back flat onto the couch.

your lips locked and you immediately buried your hands in his hair to pull him closer. you moved in sync, his lips fitting perfectly onto yours. you bucked your hips up against his crotch and earned a moan from kevin. he opened his eyes in shock as realization hit him. he quickly pulled away and jumped off the coach.

'I'm so sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have just done that. I don't know what came over me,' he apologized profusely, staring at his feet. did he really think that you didn't want this?

'give me your hand,' you told him and held out your hand.

'why?' he raised his eyebrows in confusion. you rolled your eyes.

'just do it.'

you took his hand and led it to your crotch.

'what are you- oh my god.' your juices had completely soaked through your panties and your sweatpants. 'you are so wet.'

'for you,' you added. 'there's no need to apologize. I'm literally begging you to continue.'

you didn't have to say that twice before he pulled you closer to him by your hips and engaged you in another desperate kiss. his hands were groping your butt while you let yours slide under his hoodie. you felt his naked skin and toned abs, as you rubbed his stomach. you lowered your hands and bravely palmed his boner through his clothes.

'y/n,' he hissed out against your lips. you hooked your thumbs in the elastic of his pants and underwear, and pushed the material down to his thighs. he struggled to get them off.

you stroked his hard dick as he slipped his hand into your panties to massage your pussy at the same time.

he slipped one finger inside and began working it in and out. you finally were getting the relief you had been desperately craving for for so long. kevin was skilled and your walls were trying to swallow his slim finger. you were quickly coming close to your orgasm after having abstained for more than a year. you pulled his hand out.

'I bet you can make me come even better with your dick,' you challenged kevin.

'you bet I will.' he was confident.

'let me just look for a condom.' he was already turning away to go search in his room but you held him back by the arm.

'forget about it. I'm on the pill and I want you raw. I want you to come inside me and not spill into a stupid condom.'

the idea of this sounded very tempting to kevin. he picked you up and threw you back onto the couch, drawing your hips closer to him so he could pull off all the pieces of clothing that were hindering him from accessing your pussy.

he propped up his arms next to your sides and spread your thighs apart. strings of arousal were hanging from your folds and he saw your hole desperately clench around nothing. his dick hurt from how much he wanted to finally be inside of you. he wanted to find out how close he had been able to imagine how you would feel around him.

your hole took him in easily, welcoming him happily by embracing it tightly. kevin swore he could've cum right here and there.

he went slow at first to give you a chance to adjust but you were already fully ready, rocking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

he crashed your mouths together and you kissed him like he was oxygen and you were short of air. you smiled and your eyes rolled back, satisfied with how things had played out today and the prospects of coming looked fairly promising.

desperate for release, kevin picked up the pace, his eyes closed while fucking into you like a horny animal. he couldn't help himself and all the 'faster's and 'harder's spilling from your mouth only encouraged him to drive himself deeper into you.

you wrapped your legs around his torso in an attempt to regain the control you were losing.

'fuck fuck fuck,' you cursed, feeling your muscles starting to contract. kevin brushed away some hair that was stuck to your sweaty forehead.

'it's fine, I'm coming too,' he announced and it took only a few more thrusts before a body shaking orgasm flushed over you, making you see only white. this drove kevin over the edge too and he spilled inside you, filling you up with his hot cum. he continued to slowly ease his dick in and out of you, fucking his semen right back into you until you had ridden out both of your orgasms. he let himself fall onto the couch right next to you, panting hard.

'I very much needed this,' you sighed in content.

'same, I wasn't sure whether I could hold out any longer without having a proper orgasm.' he watched his cum drip out of you.

'we should've thought of this sooner,' you said. 'this was a great idea.'

kevin hummed in agreement.

***

so now you and kevin were having sex on a regular basis, your high score being five times in a day. it felt good to finally live out your sexuality and not having to restrict yourself. sure, you guys did it more than necessary but it was a great way to pass time and it felt fucking amazing.

today you had done it in the shower after waking up, then on the kitchen counter and you had just finished having sex in his bed.

he was spooning you from behind, his cock still placed inside of you. he nuzzled his nose into your neck.

'stop, that tickles,' you chuckled.

'sorry.'

after a while of comfortable silence you heard him let out a big sigh.

'what's wrong?' you asked as he pulled out of you. you turned around to be able to look at him.

'I don't think I can do it like this anymore,' he confessed.

'what do you mean?' you asked. 'are you talking about us having sex?'

he nodded. your heart dropped and you started feeling dizzy. you tried to search for answers in his eyes but he avoided looking at you.

'w-why?' you stuttered, trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

'it was amazing at first,' he started and finally raised his head to meet your gaze, 'and I went into it without much thought. I went crazy during quarantine and began fantasizing about having sex with you. then it became reality but now I understand that was probably wrong of me. I've always thought of myself as a gentleman, yet I slept with you without much thought. you see, my issue is this…'

suspense hung in the air and you were impatiently waiting for him to get to the point.

'I like you.'

you quietly gasped in surprise. you had been expecting him to say you were bad at sex and that he regretted everything but not this.

'I shouldn't be sleeping with you unless you were my girlfriend,' he finished off his ramble. you felt immensely relieved.

'do you want me to?' you asked him.

'want you to what?' kevin was confused. he had been a hundred percent sure you'd immediately jump out of the bed in disgust when he confessed.

'be your girlfriend. after all, I like you too, you moron.' you realized that you had known this for a while. you might have even been crushing on your best friend since way before the pandemic struck but it was kind of hard to track your feelings. still, you were sure you liked him too. now that he had admitted his feelings, you were able to admit yours not only to him but to yourself as well.

'wow, I didn't expect this,' kevin confessed surprised. you laughed.

'yeah, we should've realized this sooner.' he pulled you closer and kissed you. it was different than the other times. his lips moved softly against yours, in contrast to all of your rough and passionate kisses you had exchanged these past few weeks. he conveyed his emotions through the kiss.

'you're ready again?' you groaned as you felt kevin's dick harden against your upper thigh. he chuckled.

'sorry, you just turn me on so much.'

so then you did it for the fourth time. that day, you set a new record of having sex six times. you might have been happy now but still just as horny.

#kevin moon smut #kevin moon scenario #the boyz kevin smut #the boyz kevin scenario #moon hyungseo smut #moon hyungseo scenario #the boyz kevin moon smut #the boyz kevin moon scenario #the boyz hyungseo smut #the boyz hyungseo scenario #the boyz smut #the boyz scenario #kpop smut #kpop scenarios

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tacticaldiary · 3 years

Text

Leave, Then (pt. 2)

Pairing: Reader x Keigo Takami (Hawks)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

He comes back and falls to his knees as he realises she’s actually gone. He lost her, and he knows damn well that he deserved this. One more chance is all he asks for and he’s lucky that Y/N is willing to give it to him.

I’ve had so many people ask for a part 2, so here it is- finally-

Masterlist

The familiar door has never looked as daunting.

A week later, Keigo stands in front of their apartment door. The mission had been shorter than expected and he had tried to come home as soon as possible. Over the past week he had been doing bad... well, terrible. Unable to focus, he had very nearly slipped up multiple times, having to endure questions about what was going on.

He hadn’t been sleeping well either, spending the whole time thinking about Y/N. He felt terribly guilty about everything. She was one of the best things to ever happen to him, his light, his home. He can’t quite believe he said what he did when they fought.

As he unlocks the door and opens it, he feels a stab of cold fear when he sees all the lights switched off.

‘Don’t expect me to be waiting when you come back’

No. No way. He hoped she didn’t go through with it. The feeling of dread doesn’t go away as he snaps out of it and practically runs to their bedroom. Throwing the door open, his eyes widen as he sees the closet door open, more than half of Y/N’s belongings gone. The bed was neatly made and looked like it hadn’t been slept in.

He spots a piece of paper on the bedside table, and with slightly shaking hands, he picks it up. A few minutes of reading later, he slowly sinks to his knees, the paper floating down and landing before him.

She was gone.

A sob rips it’s way through his throat, raw and harsh and painful, and he tucks his wings tighter against his back, subconsciously seeking out some sort of comfort. She was really gone. He lost her because he couldn’t appreciate her, because he hadn’t been treating her right. All the times they spent together flash in front of him, the nights they spent flying over the city, her tucked safely in his arms while they flew, the days they spent together, walking around parks, on picnics, lounging at home and watching movies.

The good and the bad...all gone. Because he couldn’t see he was wrong. That he was hurting the one person he swore to protect.

“Keigo?” A voice startles him through his misery, and he looks up slowly in disbelief, tears still staining his cheeks. Taking in a shaky breath, he scrambles to his feet when he sees her.

“...Y-Y/N?” He asks in a shaky voice. She was here...she was here! Before he can stop himself, he paces forward quickly and throws his arms around her, crushing her to him, tucking her face under his chin.

“Holy shit...I-...I;m so fucking sorry, I thought...I thought you left, that you really left and...” He stammers out, mind racing.

“I did.” She cuts him off, not pulling away, but keeping her gaze fixed to the ground.

“You...did?”

“I did leave, Keigo.” She sighs, trying to pull away. He finally relents, but only lets her pull away a little, holding her close by her arms. Her heart feels heavy as she sees his tear stained face, as she watches his eyes rake across her, desperately drinking her in.

“I came back to get another pair of shoes...I didn’t know you were back already.” Her voice is quiet, because she’s sure that if it were any louder, he would hear the slight wobble in it.

“Y/N...Y/N I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, love.” He says, catching her gaze. “I didn’t...I wasn’t thinking straight.” She can see the desperation in his eyes, how he longs for her to believe him...but she can’t let this go that easily.

“You hurt me. Practically called me useless, Keigo. That...that wasn’t okay.” She stares right back at him.

“I know, I didn’t mean it, I swear. I’m here now, I’m here. I’ll try harder, baby, I promise just...just please, don’t leave me.” He’s still shaken up from the shock of thinking she was gone.

“For how long? You’re here now, but how long will that last?” Her voice starts to shake. She wants him back just as much as he wants her, but at the end of the day, she needed him to know how much he hurt her. She had been miserable for the past few days, staying at a friends house.

At that, he takes a deep breath. “I know I’ve been neglecting you, and hell, you didn’t deserve that...you never did. You’re one of the best things in my life. I-... you’re not useless. You never were. You’re the most important thing in my life.” He hooks a finger under her chin and tilts her head up to meet her eyes, which are watery, just like his.

“I missed you so much. I promise I’ll try and be better. I’ll...take on less shifts or-or work less-”

“I don’t want you to put me before your career.” She cuts him off again, eyes wide. “I would never ask that, Keigo, I know how much you love your job. It’s just...” She sighs tiredly. “I just want you to be home sometimes, y’know? I never see you, I never know you’re okay.” She frowns.

There’s a beat of silence, before Keigo steps forward, closer to her, arms sliding down to hold her waist gently. “You’re always going to be more important than my career, Y/N.” he says sincerely, causing a few stray tears to slide down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” He mumbles lowly, bringing up a hand and wiping away her tears with his thumb. He ignores his own tears, wanting to comfort her.

“I love you. You don’t have to forgive me, but...just-just give me a chance to show you. Please.” He holds his breath, waiting for her answer. Keigo nearly collapses to the ground in relief again as he sees her nod slowly.

“One chance.” she whispers, before wrapping her arms around him and pulling him in for another hug. She nearly starts sobbing as his familiar scent surrounds her, making her feel safe and loved. “One chance, Keigo.”

“That’s all I want.” she hears him whisper back, his breath tickling the top of her head as he holds her tighter.

They would be okay.

Requests Are Open! Feel free to stop by and say hello!

(11/04/2021)

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits, but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel imagine #mcu

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