#and then when i stopped being in spaces where people

[yeyinde]

touch starved reader with an oral fixation x kidnapper!Simon who’s all punishment and no physical affection? Please Simon just a little kiss? with tongues? :( (i just wanna make out with this man while my heart aches for him)

by Allah, you people are dogs. i will write the filth as usual.

DEAD DOVE, 18+ | dubcon. kidnapping. mean!Simon. dom!Simon. masking corporal punishment as affection. kissing. size kink, size difference. some thigh riding. degradation + humiliation (verbal). non-con pet play. marking (heavyyyyyy mentions of Simon biting you like a chew toy). choking. daddy kink (but in the awful, demeaning way). manipulation. forced affection. coersion. forced/manufactured dependency. brief mention of Simon stepping on your back to hold you down so he can whip you w a cat o nine tails. yanno. the usual Friday night.

idk. there's something so hot about you, completely naked, riding Simon's clothed thigh as he holds you up by your neck. tongue out, desperate for a kiss while he just mocks you the whole time.

It's survival. 

At first.  

A means of masking the innate horror of being stripped of your agency, your autonomy, by a man you barely even know. One you met once before (fate sealed), and now—outside of your apartment complex where he was idling by the foothold, smoking a cigarette as he leaned against the brick wall, head turned. Gaze narrowed as you approached. 

Waiting for someone, you assumed, thinking nothing else about the matter. 

Nothing else, except—

He looked familiar. You think you saw him before. He was staring at you. Hadn't stopped. Hasn't said a word, either. The silence was oppressive. Heavy. Your hands fumbled with the keys. Shaking. Trembling. 

He's pretty, you thought, suddenly. In the way car wrecks can sometimes be. Jarring and awful and hideous, but—

Mesmerising. 

Macabre. And that's what he is. Everything from the mask on his face (skulls, go figure), to the absurdity in his size, his width. The way space itself seemed to move around him, bending and distorting just to let him pass. His own gravitational pull. Magnetic. You feel it tugging on you as he pulls another lungful of smoke. Another. Another.  

(like an hourglass, a timebomb, almost. you wonder what will happen when it runs out—)

He gives you the creeps. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. A visceral sense of unease curdling in the pit of your belly as he keeps staring, staring. Eyes—crystalline under the broken headlamp, washout into crushed topaz—drilling into your back, sharp enough to flay skin. Everything inside of you says to run, but your key won't fit inside the lock. Won't—

Ever. 

And hindsight has always been a bitter thing, hasn't it? Cruel in her mockery. Had you known, then, that he wasn't a workman loitering by the complex, waiting for a friend; or a low-level drug dealer casting webs into the plum hewn aether, it might have saved you. Might have. 

Maybe. Because he was there, waiting for you, all along. 

Life has a funny way of paying back good deeds. All it took for your life to crumble down around you, rubble falling off of a shaking mountain, was kindness. Was seeing a large man in the pouring rain, already drenched. Black clothing sticking to the granite contours of his body, and offering sanctum in the shape of a rusting umbrella you found at a thrift store for three dollars. 

(“here,” you said, chipper. All smiles. “i live just down the street, and you look like you need it more than i do. do you want it?”

and he—

he simply stared. stared. his eyes liquid, molten, as they carelessly dropped, roaming down the length of your body at his own leisure. leering. assessing. it was odd. weird, but—

he huffed, then. seemingly satisfied by whatever you measured up to in his head. his neck lulled back, and he gazed at you from down the crooked length of his nose, tucked neatly away under the thick band of a facial mask. skulls. how could you be so stupid? 

slowly, like he was trying not to startle a mare, his gloved hand reached out, curling thick fingers around the hilt of it. he tugged once. in your stupor, you forgot to let go. embarrassment flooded in. he huffed again, quietly amused, as you untangled your numbed fingers from the umbrella. 

in your distraction, he moved closer. smelled of ash, of mildew. sweat and stale cigarettes. there was something predatory in the way he slipped through space. a preternatural quiet. an eerie stillness. 

you hadn't realised he was there, looming, until he rasped out, “more ‘n you could ever realise, pet.”

and you're sure why you do it. did it. but your hand slips into your shopping bag, eyes widen. heart thundering in your chest. 

“are you hungry? i, uh, i just bought some apples, um—”

his eyes are lavascapes. shackles. chains. “i could eat.”)

And now—

Forced to play this strange cat and mouse of his where he treats you like soot on the bottom of his shoe, and you pretend that it's affection. Love. How godless.  

Protection, he calls it. 

("mine," he whispers, orison soft, into your ear. "ain't go' nowhere else to go, do you, pet? world's big. would eat a small thing like you up. safer here. wit' me. only me.") 

You wonder what he'd do if you told him the biggest danger here was the madness nestled inside your head, the one that sometimes made you look at him like he was your salvation instead of the warden holding the end of your leash in a firm hand. Unyielding—like everything he does. Is. 

Withholding, too. Everything must be earned. Nothing given. Nothing handed out. And you know that this is a ploy, a tactic. Subterfuge meant to chisel into your sense of self, dehumanise you. Turn you into a simpering, obedient little doll for him to play with as he wishes. You know this, and yet—

It's survival, you promise yourself as he tugs on the hook latched to your collar, testing it for weakness. Survival, when his hands—bare, bare; warmed skin against skin, you could just weep—brush over your throat, nails skimming goosebumped flesh as he wedges one, then two inside, hirsute knuckles tickling your pulse. It tightens the collar to near choking. Intentional, you know. He likes it when you beg—for air, for food, water, him. 

Vile man. Awful. 

(You want to roll on your belly at his feet.)

This cold, cruel touch lights a fire under your skin. It's been months since he's last done so. Always wearing gloves when he has to. Using paddles, belts, when you misbehave. Never his bare hand. Not anymore. 

(“m’hand is for good girls,” he slurred, words merging, meshing together, painted with exertion. He wedged his boot against the small of your back, holding you down, and cracked the end of a cat over your bare ass, thighs. Unbothered by your howls, your screams, as the whip bit into your skin. You've never so much as been hit as a child for misbehaving, and now, as an adult, you have a madman standing over you, introducing you to something called a cat o’nine tails—a favourite in the army, lovie. “bad girls,” his boot pressed down harder, heel digging into your spine. “Bad girls get the whip—”)

Bad. Bad. Because you tried to run, to leave him. He dressed you up, called you Mrs Riley, and you—

Ducked out the back door when he turned away for a second. 

Stupid. It was poor timing. A test. He set you up, measuring your loyalty to him, your commitment, and you failed. Failed. 

(“this is what ‘appens when spoiled little cunts get their way too much. they act out, don't they? bitin’ the ‘and that feeds. you'll learn soon enough, though—”)

Ghost—sir, sir (master, maker, god; you'll call him anything he wants if he touches you again)—pulls his fingers away, depriving you of his touch once more. And it's all so stupid. So fundamentally wrong, deplorable, but you follow. Needy. Whining for it in the back of your throat. 

It's been months. Months without touch. Without sensation outside of leather lashing across your thighs, your ass; harsh, gloved fingers digging into your jaw, braced against the back of your head, as you swallow down his cock in an effort to prove to him you've been good. So good. Can be good. His good girl. 

You need to touch him. Need his touch. Ache for it, for something outside of this nook he placed you inside of, denied the privilege of living upstairs with him after you tried to escape. 

You want to. Badly. Your fingers twitch. Ghost sees it. Hums. 

“Need somethin', pet?” 

Your mouth is dry. You swallow. It burns. It hurts. “Yes—”

“Yes, what?”

“Sir—”

Behind the mask he's yet to take off for you fully, only ever hitching it under his chin to devour your cunt whenever you've been good, his jaw tightens, the fabric bunching up. 

You reel back from the look of sheer displeasure etching harsh lines into the hollow gaps of his eyes. Heart thundering. Stomach churning. 

“Mas—” he cuts you off with a soft sigh. Marked with his irritation. “D—dad—”

Dad. A new one. Daddy. He didn't seem like the sort to be into this type of play, not with his sardonic, deadpan eyes. His mockery. His dessicated humour, awful and biting. You'd have sooner expected him to laugh at you—in that slow, deep hum he gives; a little chuff, full of condescension and jeer—than to get off on it. On you, kneeling between his legs with your chin braced against his palm, mouth open, tongue out, as he fucks into the tight clench of his fist, groaning as you beg daddy to give you a taste. 

It's gross. Disgusting. 

It's not done for anything else other than to humiliate you. To crush you under the heel of his boot—little bug—so that you will always know where your place is in this scenario. His little wife. Mother, mum—

He pulls on the leash, jerking you forward. Purrs, “good girl,” and then steps back, moving away from you. Cruel. Dismissive. You hate him, hate him—

(Need him so deeply. With every fibre of your being—)

You watch him as he goes, mourning the loss of his presence already, as he paces around your space, your cage. Broad shoulders barely fitting inside. Head ducking to avoid hitting his crown on the popcorn ceiling. It's strange seeing him here like this. Prowling. He usually comes when he wants you, when he needs to enact more merciless punishment on you for whatever perceived evils you committed (not greeting him with a kiss when he walked in, not letting him suffocate himself in your cunt when he had you sit on his face, not making him cum all over your face quick enough when you knew he had other engagements to get to—), or when he ruts, heavily, between your thighs, cold and detached. Seeking pleasure from your icy flesh, and giving nothing in return but white hot agony. 

Him here, idling in your presence, is revolutionary. 

“S–sir—?”

He hums, quiet. Sits in the chair as you gather the fragments of yourself littered on the ground. His mood is malleable, it seems. 

You push, fingertips sinking into the putty of his agreeable temperament. “Can I—”

You waver when his sharp eyes raze over your bare body—clothes are for good girls, after all—pupils sloshing over the edges, bleeding into midnight blue. 

Your body is a battlefield. Every inch of skin branded with his mark—pretty, thrawn rings of teeth tattooed in silver, haloed in black and red, desecrate your flesh: neck, collarbones, breasts, belly, thighs (a particular favourite of his), ass, mons; all bitten through, chewed up. It weeps when you move, has blood trickling down your skin. The cracking scabs make him coo, poor thing, all bloody fer me? and he licks at them, sucks, until only a pinkish wound in the mimesis of canines remains. 

Uprooted, turned into something new—

His chest expands when he settles his gaze on the sliver of space between your spread thighs. Concealed in tenebrous, hidden from his leering, lecherous view. He cocks his head, considers something unknown to you. His thoughts, his mind, worlds away. Untouchable. 

(only to bad girls, he’d snarled out when you asked why—)

“Testin’ my patience still?” He doesn't rip his gaze away from your cunt, speaks to it sometimes more than he speaks to you. “Thought this alone time might’a cleared your ‘ead.”

You flush. Embarrassment roiling through you. His displeasure is a palpable thing. Heavy. You hate the weight of it. 

“I need—I need you.”

Another toneless hum. “‘Course you do. Ain't got anyone else.”

He's awful. Hideous. You want to rip his tongue out of his mouth. “I—I want you. Please.”

Ghost doesn't answer. You stopped expecting him to a long time ago, his moods odd measures of ebbs and flows; passive and mild, cracking terrible, awful jokes as he strokes your back, hands riveted to your skin, and then biting and caustic the next. Pushing and pushing until you lash out, snap, so he has a reason to push you down, punished and smothered under his bulk, as he ruts into you like a beast, a man starved. Tells you it's for your own good. That you need him. Would be lost without him. 

Bludgeoning a hole into you wide enough for him to crawl inside of. Poisoning you from the inside out with the same nocuous rot that flows in his veins. 

Maybe that's been his agenda all along. Maybe. To make you want him as badly as he wanted you. Desperate, obsessive. Going so far as to follow you home, lost little mutt waiting in the shadows outside of your door until you threw him another bone. And when that didn't work, when the food stopped being enough—

He took you. Held you captive in his house deep in the wilderness. A place so endlessly green that you sometimes stare out at it—unfathomable sea of phalthos and jasper—and feel dizzy. You'll get lost out there—

just like he says. 

As he turns your obsecration over in his head, you wait, supplicant to this man as you rest on your knees. Pretty pet with a golden collar adorned in gems. 

Fitting, you find. With his head cradled against his thick knuckles, you can't help but shiver at the way he looks shrouded in the gloaming embers of a fading twilight. Leonine. A king perfectly at ease in this thick, caliginous atmosphere.

His eyes burn, magmatic, in the low light. Vats of endless ink. Black holes that will swallow you whole if you get too close. But he's poised. Contemplative. Assessing. 

And then grips the end of the leash tight in his other hand. Tugs.  

You obey the wordless command, crawling on your hands and knees to where he's spread out on the recliner. Laxed, dripping with a careless indifference as you wander to him, resting your chin on the spread of his knee. 

Looking up, up, at him, waiting. Wanting. 

There's so much of him—a fact that has been the catalyst to your downfall the moment you saw him standing under the awning; this massive creature. Thighs wider than the width of your body. Burly forearms. Broad shoulders. He's big. Indomitable. Thick, endlessly so. But there's a give to his body. Valleys of softness hiding corded muscle. Firm, but—

Your fingers sink into the soft give of his belly when you reach out, bracing against stomach. Pulling yourself further into the bracket of his spread thighs, inching closer to him. 

He meets your reverent stare, eyes liquid along his lower lash line.

“Thought you were gonna keep me waitin’ all night,” he muses, giving another pull on the leash. It destabilises you. Your nose bumps into his sternum, and you moan at the sting. 

There's a dissonance in the back of your head. A hairline fracture in the line that keeps a degree of separation between pleasure and pain. They meet against the crack in the divide, merging into a abysmal polyphony conducted by his hand. 

He watches, amused, as you whimper, sniffing harshly against the burn. It's not bleeding, and not broken—small mercies, you suppose—and you let it simmer into a dull ache as you slowly clamber into his lap.

Ghost leans back as you settle, greedily taking in the sight of your thighs stretched wide over his leg, cunt pressed, tight, against the rough scrape of his jeans. The touch burns. He hasn't touched your pussy in weeks—

“C’mon,” he urges, hand spanning the width of your lower back. Coaxing. “Show me ‘ow good you can be.”

It's all the permission you need. Slowly, slowly, your hips start to gyrate, dragging your slit over the coarse material. The friction is agony. You need more—

He draws his other hand up, curls it around your neck, forcing your head back, back. You gasp, staring at him, dizzy, from down the slope of your nose. The clasp of the collar digs into your skin. It hurts. It's too much. 

you don't want him to stop. 

His hand is huge. It spans the entire length of your neck, thumb to your pulse, pinky grazing the hollow of your throat. It forces you to lift your chin higher just to let him fit.

He likes it, too, you know. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of his bare hand, scarred and thick; dusted with a cropping of fine hairs along his scabbed knuckles, sitting against the whole of your throat. Swallowing you up. Can feel how much he enjoys the sheer depth between your sizes when his cock twitches, stiffening more

The look on his face is appraising, anatomising. There's a cold measure of distance in his gaze. A barren polynya. You want to cross it. Chart these untamed lands until they're deeply ingrained within your being. Cimmerian effigy burning to keep you warm. 

It's survival, you think, and arch into the palm of his hand. 

He holds you like a doll. One hand on your lower back, pressing your cunt to thigh. The other tightening around your throat. Bare skin against bare skin, and oh, you could just cry—

But this is not what you need. What you want. And he knows. He always does. Knows the inside of you like it's written down—inked on paper. Thumbs through the makeup of you, chapter by chapter, until no mystery remains. 

“Tell me what you need, pet. Beg for it.” 

“Let me—” his hands tighten, choking the air from your throat. Crushing your collar against your neck. “Lemme—kiss you, please, please—”

Tighter. Tighter. The world around you swims under a thin ocean. Phosphenes swim, untethered, in your periphery, ghosting along the curve of his shoulders. He might kill you yet. Keeping going, going, until those brittle, bird-like bones in your neck snap—

You'd let him, you think, muscles falling lax. Submissive. Just the way he says he likes even though you know he fucks you harder, touches you more, more, when you act out. Misbehave. 

“Kiss me?” He taunts, words abrasive. Strident. Scrubbing hard against your skin. “Ain't that jus’ the sweetest thing I ever ‘eard.” 

You burn, blister. “Please—”

“Reckon I ought to. Kissed your pretty cunt ‘fore I even kissed your lips, huh, pet?” 

Your chest folds over itself. Stomach knotting. Balling tight. Unease is a razor blade scraping your nerves. 

“Simon—”

“Ah, ah—” his hand tightens. Vicious. Chiding. “You ‘aven’t earned the privilege of sayin’ my name, ‘ave you? Cheeky thing. Might ‘ave to take a cane to you next.” 

“No, no, no—! I'm—”

“Sorry?” He mocks, cocking his head. Condescension drips from the corners of his eyes. 

“Please, sir—”

“Dad is gettin’ tired of this attitude of yours, pet—” his fingers dig into your skin, hard. Biting. A warning, you know. The blunt press of a blade to your jugular. But it thrums along the suture line to your desire, a wellspool of murk coiling low in your guts. You throb, cunt clenching down around nothing. Achingly empty. “Thought we got rid of it this time ‘round. Learned our lesson.”

The words are frank, prosaic. Had you any sense of self still malingering in the back of your head, you might have struck him for the blatant disrespect. But as you struggle to reach for it, pawing around in the vacuous abyss for any fragment of who you were before this, before him, you know—without any doubt—that none exists. Nothing. He’s too ingrained in your marrow, hewn into your skin. Copper sutures holding his filament within you. Cradled between your thighs, nestled in the rotting vacancy of your heart. 

He knows you. Every part—

“We did—we did, da—daddy, please—” 

It’s shallow. Muffled, like he’s trying to swallow it down, but you feel it rumble through his broad chest. A guttural sound. A groan. Drenched in pleasure, in want. So thick, you could almost taste it. 

He hides his need under a layer of derision. 

“Such a needy thing, ain't you? Desperate little slag like you wouldn't last out there, would you?” 

His hand digs into your hip, pushing you off of his thigh. Eyes skewering into the wet stain on his trousers. A huff spills out—the sound a near perfect mimicry of crushing charcoal in your hand. 

“No. You'd be eaten alive. Torn to pieces. World's too big for somethin' like you.”

Mindless, dazed, you nod. Arching into him. The leather leash snaps against your chest. “Yes, yes—”

His cock presses into your thigh, hard, fat. Your mouth waters. Drool dribbles down your chin. 

He smells of tinder when he leans in close, blood drenched words biting into your skin. “messy today, aren't you? Be lost without me. Tha’s why you wear a collar, isn't it?”

Pitifully, you nod. Eyes full of tears. Each word is a bludgeon into your resolve. Into your sense of self. 

But it earns you his affection, and his thumb presses into the corner of your mouth, unhinging your jaw until it falls open, lax. He holds you like that, mouth lax with his hand still around your neck. The other lifts away from your lips, goes to the thick band around the bridge of his nose, slips inside. 

There's no buildup to it. No lingering sense of anticipation. Practical, detached, he merely tugs it down, and lets it snap under his chin. 

Your breath is punched out of your lungs at the sight of him. Barefaced. Scarred. His nose is crooked; a jagged hook with scar tissue delineating the spots where it's been broken too many times. His lips are—

Full. 

Mangled. 

Scars run in thick slashes over them, denting the flesh in places. Burn marks line his pale flesh. Charcoal rubs into his eyes, highlighting the whites of his lashes against smeared soot. 

He's—

Pretty. 

Like a car crash. Calamity. The broken remains of a town after a hurricane, a tornado, ripped it apart. Ugly, brutal. His face looks like it's been mauled by a bear, a tiger. Scarred and hideous, and—

You shiver. His eyes drop, landing on your own lips. The soot on his brow flutters down, lands on his eyelashes when he lifts his brow up mockingly. Derision curdling an awful smirk on the corner of his mouth. Crooked. Like him. Like his teeth. His nose. His boxy jaw. His lips—

You kiss him. 

Can't help yourself, really. There's a pull. Gravitational. Magnetic. You need, need, to taste him. To quench this ache in your jaw that makes you want to wrap your tongue around something, play with it between your teeth. Soft and sweet—

Ghost's lips are plump beneath yours. The thick scar tissue is almost velveteen when it glides over your bottom lip. You moan into it, into the feeling; victory—however pyrrhic—swims like mercury in your veins. Finally. 

And he doesn't kiss you back. Doesn't make any effort to reciprocate at all, but he's not tense beneath you. Not stunned. Or reluctant. He’s pliant. Malleable. Agreeable, willing to let you devour his mouth, his taste, as much as you want. Doting. Letting you spoil yourself on him. With him.

Because you need him, don't you? 

Like the air you breathe. The food he gives you—apples, always, on rainy days; salmon and rice in a pretty bowl with your name etched into the porcelain—and the attention, the affection—

(suck my cock, pretty girl. don't make me put a gag on you—deeper, you can take it, can't you? take my fat cock all the way up inside your sweet little cunt—my pretty girl—)

—it’s all so divine. 

His hands on your body, your throat, spasm. Once. Just once. Against your leg, his cock twitches. Leaks prespend into the demin. You rut against his thigh, aching for it. Whimpering—

And then he's groaning into the kiss, snarling out your name until it wedges between your lungs, syphoned in from his scorching breath. Another brand in the shape of him. 

Ghost kisses the same way he eats—messy, sloppy; all teeth and tongue, and full pretty lips. Clumsy, like no one taught him how to properly hold his silverware and he's trying to mock what he saw on television. Brumish. A broken, contemptuous pastiche of sumptuosity. A starving dog, snarling around its plundered morsel. Protective. Possessive. 

It coils around you. Thick, smothering. 

He sucks your tongue into his mouth, catching it between his teeth. The sting brings tears to the corner of your eyes, and when you pry them open, you find him already staring at you (always, always, always—), lidded. Heavy pools of desire shaded in the brume of a winter dawn. A bonfire flickering in the distance of a whiteout. Sanctuary from the cold—

He seems to catch himself. Expression flickering. Warbling around the edges. It closes off in a blink. He pulls back. Locks into the ashlar veneer of this indifference he wears like a suit of armour. 

But you saw it. It was there. Within reach—

“Need me, don't you?” He drawls, timber a needlepoint between cruelty and desire. Sultry, low. Husky. He knows what it does to you. How he can unravel you at the seams with just his voice alone. “Need me so fuckin’ much, pet. Would be lost without me—”

“Please, Simon,” you whisper, feather-soft. Cunt throbbing, pulsing. Needy. “Please—”

The strident reprimand for using his name doesn't come. His hand tightens around your throat, unconscious. A paroxysm that has pleasure carving itself down your spine, electric. 

“Come get it, then,” he rasps, voice wrecked. Raw. Curling at the edges, thickening his accent until the words elide. 

Hand to your throat, he drags you close. Closer still. Keeps you sat pretty on his lap as he pulls you in for a bruising, hungry kiss. Tongue shoving between your teeth when you gasp.

His kisses are always hungry, but this is different. Greedy. He devours you whole. Eats you alive. His hand falls to your lower back, holding you tight to his chest.

You moan into it, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. Squeezing until your knuckles blanche, joints twinging in discomfort. 

After months of nothing, this alone is bliss. His taste soaking onto your tongue, drenching it in the bitter tang of sage, wheatgrass, and stale cigarettes. Intoxicating. It leaks into you, nocuous. Infects from the inside out. 

His plan coming to fruition, you think. What he sought out to do all along, ever since you wandered close to this untameable Tartarean guard, and offered yourself up to the jowls of a starving beast. 

He pulls away with a heavy breath, eyes charing around the edges; brittle briquette. 

“Gonna be a good girl from now on? Come upstairs, be a good mum for dad? Or am I gonna ‘ave to cane this—” his hand drops, grabbing a fistful of your ass in his hand, fingers digging into the skin between your cheeks. Possessive. It cracks like a whip down your nerves. “—tight lit’le arse?”

You shake your head instantly. Quickly. “I'll be good,” you whisper into his chin, tongue flicking out to lick across his scars. The dried sweat on his skin tastes briny. Reminds you of the ocean on a brumous November evening. The incipient yawn of a ravenous hurricane gathering its lot on the shore. 

Sirens blare in the distance. Fear curdles in your guts, sits heavy like a stone. An anchor. 

“So sweet f’me,” he mutters, words deepening as his head falls back, letting you pepper kisses across the underside of his jaw. Mouthing along the constellation of scars. His voice is rumble. It shivers across your lips, tongue. Shakes the marrow in your bones. “Better stay this way, pet.”

Into his pulse, you murmur, “I think you like it better when I’m bad.” 

You can feel the snarl brimming in the back of his throat. Your ass stings with the phantom burn of when he lashed out with the whip. It drags a whimper out from deep within your chest. 

His hand tightens around your neck. A warning. “Got some guests over f’dinner tonight. Would love to finally introduce them to my sweet little wife—” deft fingers slip across the dewy skin of your folds, knuckles grazing over your drenched hole. The touch makes you squirm. “But if you’re gonna be bad, then I’ll leave you locked up down ‘ere.”

“I’ll be good,” you swear, words a hushed breath over his jugular. His finger flattens, drawls soft, slow circles around your clit. “Ah, I’ll—I’ll be so, so good, Simon—”

“Good girls deserve rewards, don’t they?” His palm flexes possessively around your throat when you nip at old scar tissue. “Maybe I’ll let you sleep in our bed tonight instead of in your dog house. We can ‘ouse together. I’ll fuck you proper—” he roughly shoves two fingers into your hole, leering when you gasp, back arching in a bow. “Know this pretty pussy has been achin’ for me, ‘asn’t it? Gonna breed it full—”

There’s static in your head, ringing in your ear. The noise distorted, pulled underwater. You think you say something, plead—no, no, no, anything but that—but his hand tightens around your throat, fingers pushing up, up into you, notching against that spot inside that makes your head swim, your vision flicker. The abyssal chasm inside of you aches, rages; its waters swell, currents frothing, slamming against the ceiling of its iron prison, and—

Simon pulls away. Fingers stilling inside of you. No friction, no relief. Hypoxia renders the world silent. Muted. Held in stasis, stagnating at the edge of a gaping precipice he holds you over, secured by the fragile curve of your neck, fine bone china. 

Phosphenes swim by. The chossy wobbles.

This distance is agony. You need to be closer, closer, to crawl inside of him, to live in the brackets of his ribs, safe and protected from the world he warns you about. Stone cold. You mewl, whine—

“Gonna be my good little wife?”

Gasping with broken lungs, you nod. Nod, nod until you’re nauseous. Dizzy. Sick—

His spit cools on your lip. Your hackles raise, body shuddering in revulsion—some primal part rears, hisses it’s infectious. Wrong. Get rid of it—

“Not gonna run?”

Slowly, you lick your lips, catching his sickness on your tongue. Swallowing it down until it sinks like a stone to the bottom of your belly. Heavy, for such a small, damning thing. 

How absurd, you think. How absolutely mad. 

Then you whisper, paperthin, “kiss me again, please, Simon—”

And he moves. Liquid in the gloam. Made more for shadows, midnight, than for golden apricity, where the light is harsh on his face, unveiling ruins and ravines; monoliths meant to be paid tribute to in the dark. Your hands lift to his jaw when he moves in, catching your lips in a bruising, biting kiss. 

His touch is searing. Owning. He isn't laying claim: no, you're already his. 

It's possessive and angry. No finesse. All slate teeth and tender tongue. They slide together in a strange game; little fawn stupidly nipping at the tiger's heel. He lets you, groaning into your mouth when you arch back, hips pushing into his fingers, taking him deeper. A pale pantomime of what's to come when he lays you on his soft bed, sweet and divine, and buries himself deep. 

It should scare you. Ought to. And maybe it does. Survival, you think, but you still pull him closer. Deeper. Because it’s bliss, you find. The world around you falling dead. Silent. Pulled into a vacuum. Teetering on the edge of a black hole, event horizon. He drags you in. 

Simon hums, pulling you closer. Touching you—soft, sweet. Palms a gyve. Shackles, chains. His fingers lift from your neck, trailing down the slope of your throat until he reaches the golden loop of your collar's hook. His gaze glides, magmatic, down to where your leash dangles between your heaving breasts.

It's almost tender when he grabs it into his fist. When he pulls, pulls—

Your back arching. His fingers slipping deeper inside your cunt. Obedient little doll.

When he lifts his eyes, the look you find is hot enough to char bone. You taste blood in the back of your throat—

Into the seam of your mouth, he purrs, “good girl.”

—and you swallow it down with a moan. 

(after all, you know better than to run from starving dogs—)

#when your kidnapper is mean and rude as hell but you've been dtf since day one: the manifesto #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #i forget where i put peoples hands sometimes and then have to go back and remind myself where everyone's at lmao #hope you enjoyedddddddddddd #i'm gonna go pour myself a glass of bleach bye #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost x you

[claypgeon]

little norris — f1 grid

pairing. f1 grid x norris!reader

summary: everyone loves when landon’s little sister attends races, especially the racers. 2.4K

warning; multiple people are interested in reader. fluff. reader gets so extremely spoiled.

notes; i got kinda lazy towards the end :( hope you all still enjoy! thank you for reading, comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated :)

. . .

“What do you mean little norris is here?” Carlos Sainz spluttered, looking around the group of men, seeing the same bewildered expression on their faces.  

It was two hours before the race, Charles, George, Oscar, Max, Carlos, Daniel, and Lando were catching up inside of Mclaren’s hospitality, that was until Lando dropped the bomb, his sister, more well known as little norris, was there. 

“Yeah, I’m going to go meet her at the gate,” Lando muttered, turning around to the couch and picking up his phone before pocketing it. “You could join me-” he turned back around, only to find that the space, which was previously occupied by his friends, was now completely empty. Looking around, with furrowed brows, he scoffed, “Assholes.” 

Walking up to the gate, Lando smiled at the sight of his baby sister, he was well aware of the cameras on them. And while he was very well used to it, you still seemed slightly uncomfortable. It had been a while since you had come to a race, a year or so. So being around this many cameras, was not your usual day-to-day. 

Still, you smiled brightly walking up to your big brother. Greeting each other, you hugged tightly, although you hadn’t been at a race for more than a year, you had Lando had seen each other less than a week ago. Only a year apart, you two had always been close, basically being best friends since your birth. 

“Can you explain why your friends are very persistent about me visiting them today?” you questioned, now in the great comfort of Mclaren’s hospitality, you sipped on your orange juice, raising a brow to your brother. 

Confused, Lando questioned who and what you were talking about. You explained that for the past ten minutes or so, you had been bombarded by messages from some of his closest friends. All begging you to visit them. 

“Those Muppets!” Lando scoffed loudly, shaking his head in disbelief. “The second I brought you up, they ran away to do god knows what!” he rambled.

You shrugged, pausing for a second before pulling yourself up with a groan. Lando watching your movements in confusion. “Where are you going?” 

You avoided eye contact, pursing your lips, and slowly walking towards the exit. “You’re going to see them!” Lando pointed an accusing finger at you, standing up and staring at you with betrayal.  

You sped up, looking over your shoulder with a frown, “I’ve missed them!” 

.  .  . 

Your first pit stop was the Ferrari garage. Charles had been the most persistent of the group, pleading with you to meet Leo, his new puppy. 

You felt out of place in the sea of red, but you trotted through, making it up to hospitality with only a handful of dirty looks. 

“Mon Amour!” a loud, excited voice broke through your thoughts. Charles. Smiling brightly, you look up to find Charles quickly making his way to you, the brightest smile on his gorgeous face. 

He wrapped his arms around you with lightning speed, swaying side to side, placing what felt like hundreds of kisses on your cheek. “It’s been too long,” he murmured sweetly. You laughed, leaning deeper into his chest, “You visited me two months ago.”

Two months ago, you were met with the surprise of a very cheerful Charles in your college dorm, claiming he ‘couldn’t go another day without seeing your face.’ He had only stayed for a day in a half, but you had to admit, it was nice to have a distraction from your studies. 

“Too long.” He murmured once more. You pulled away, choosing to ignore the deep frown on his face. You reminded him of what you came here first for; Leo. With a pout on his face, he led you to where a cute tiny puppy stood on the ground. 

Getting on your knees, you cooed, “Oh you’re so beautiful.” you muttered, too entranced with the adorable puppy, to see Charles slip away for a quick moment. 

Charles walked over to a Ferrari employee, continuously turning to make sure you were still focused on Leo. The employee slipped him a tiny paper bag, Charles thanked him, and without another word, he walked back over to you. 

You continued playing with Leo, ignoring Charles, making him scowl. He was aware Leo was cute, but wasn’t he cuter? 

“Amour?” he called for you, looking up, you raised a brow, and he held out his hands for you, pulling up. “I got something for you.” he led you to the red couch, placing you down as if you were a delicate doll. 

And it started. You thought. Every time you would visit the paddock, you were bombarded by different gifts from some of Lando’s closets friends. Not that it bothered you. It was probably wrong, but getting so much attention, by so many gorgeous men, ignited a flame in you. And you never wanted it to stop.

“Oh, yeah?” you batted your eyelashes up at him, and you visibly saw him gulp. He sat next to you and nodded vigorously while handing you a small paper bag. Looking inside, you saw a velvet box, your eyes widened. Jewelry?

Pulling out the box, you blinked at Charles, he smiled at you reassuringly. Opening the box, you gulped loud enough for someone on the other side of the room to hear. You were used to nice gifts from Charles, but this? This was next level. Inside the velvet box was a tennis bracelet that no doubt cost more than your entire outfit combined. 

You blinked, looking up at Charles, who was staring down at you with puppy eyes, “Do you like it? We can exchange it if you don’t. It just…your brother only told us you were coming like ten minutes ago, and I needed to get you something-” you cut off his rambling, by placing a small kiss on the corner of his lips, he instantly froze. 

“I love it.” You breathly mumbled, carefully taking the bracelet out of the box, “Help me put it on?” 

.  .  . 

You were beaming as you walked out of Ferrari hospitality and into Carlos’s garage. The bracelet Charles had gifted you was gorgeous, and it made you feel like you were walking on air. Lando could die, and you would still be shining. 

Arriving at the garage, you frowned, not seeing Carlos anywhere. You spent the next five minutes looking around, but no trace of him. Just as you turned to leave, you saw him. He ran into the garage with a giant bouquet of red roses in hand. He looked around urgently until his eyes landed on you.

Everyone in the room noticed how when he set eyes on you, it was like he became entranced. His eyes looked you up and down about ten times, in between the time when you walked over to him. 

You didnt speak, instead choosing to bring him into a tight hug, smelling of his expensive cologne. You spent the next seconds in each other’s tight embrace. Out of everyone on the grid, other than your brother. You knew Carlos the longest, and it was evident with how tightly you clung to each other. 

You felt the bouquet digging into your back, pulling back, Carlos instantly held it out to you, “Para ti,” for you. 

“Thank you, Carlos,” you took the flowers with a pouty smile, they were bigger than your head. 

“I got you something,” he muttered, pulling you towards a corner in the garage, shielding you from prying eyes. You tilted your head, eyes trailing down to his perfect lips, he reached into his back pocket, pulling out two tickets. 

He wordlessly handed them you to, taking the flowers with one hand. You stared at the tickets confused, you gasped, reading them. Greece, June 15, one-person ticket. You flipped the ticket looking over the other one, Greece, June 15, one-person ticket. You looked by at the Spanish man, with a gasp, “You didnt.” 

The man smiled, leaning closer, “I did.” he whispered, placing a deep kiss on your forehead. “For us?” you held up the tickets, needing clarification.

“For us.” he confirmed. Holy shit you were going to Greece. 

.  .  .

You hadn’t been in the paddock for more than thirty minutes and you already had a tennis bracelet, a bouquet of flowers, and a trip to Greece. 

Then came the ethical dilemma. Was it okay to take all these gifts, knowing they were given to you with the intent they had, probably not. Did you care? No. 

Some might call you shameless, but you didnt care. You loved feeling loved. You loved knowing you had these men wrapped around your finger. You loved knowing they would do anything for you. 

It had been this way for years, them buying you things with the hopes of a relationship. And you weren’t planning on putting a stop to it any time soon. It might seem impossible, but you loved them all. And you didnt see why you had to pick one. Why couldn’t you have them all?

And it’s not like they don’t know about each other. They do. Each one of them are aware of the others. That just makes it all more competitive. And with more competitiveness, came more gifts for you. Perfect.  

“Max!” you laughed, feeling someone pick you up from behind. The broad shoulders and ruff hands gave it away. You heard him let out a deep chuckle, leading you to some high chairs. 

Once he placed you down on the chair, you were finally able to get a good look at him, he was perfect as always. “Hi.” you whisper as he wraps his arms around your waist, with a content sigh. 

“Hi, schatje.” he leaned into your neck, placing small kisses, not caring about those around you too. 

“How are you?” you whispered, placing your hands around his neck, but he didnt answer, he focused himself on your right wrist, where the bracelet Charles had gifted you lay.

Silently, he turned to you with a raised brow. “Charles?” he guessed with an eye roll. You nodded, giggling brightly, “It’s cute, no?” 

“Yeah, adorable.” he grumbled, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his phone. You frowned, not liking how his attention wasn’t on you. That was until he handed you his phone, nuzzling back into your neck without a care in the world.

You took the iPhone, holding it up to your eyes. “A boat?” you questioned looking down at a smiling Max, he hummed, nodding. On the phone was a page, dedicated to what you assumed was selling boats. 

“You bought one?” you whispered in wonder, swiping through teh pictures of said boat. It was huge, with three stories: the bottom deck, the middle deck, and the very top deck. Your eyes widened looking at the price tag. Holy shit that was a lot of money. 

“For you,” he mumbled, placing a final kiss on teh side of your neck before standing up straight, looking at you expectingly. 

You froze. No fucking way. This, this was crazy. “Max-” you started shaking your head, but his puppy dog’s eyes froze you in place instantly. 

“Just take it okay?” he leaned his forehead against yours, “I need to one up Charles.” 

.   .  .

“Daniel!” you laughed in joy as he wrapped his arms around you swinging you around. 

“Little Norris!” he cherred, carefully placing your feet on the ground, and pating your hair down with a beaming smile. 

He stood staring for a smile, admiring your beaming smile as you looked up at him, “How did you get even prettier?” he wondered in amazement. 

“The same way you got prettier.” you grinned cheekily, he blushed, taking your hand and learning you out of the garage. 

“Remember when you told me you wanted to take golf lessons?” he reminisced, waving over to some fans who were calling out for his attention with his free hand. 

You nodded thoughtfully. You had talked about wanting golf lessons for years, never having the time to actually do them. 

He stared down at you with a glint in his eyes, you paused, gasping with a big smile, “You didn’t!” 

He laughed, wrapping his arms around you once more, “I thought since you were finishing school soon, it was the perfect time.” 

You stared up at him in adoration, “Have I ever told you how much I adore you.”

“Hm.” he whispered in your ear, “I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

.  .  .

“Don’t you look pretty?” Georges’s voice cut through your thoughts, as he walked over to you, placing a deep kiss on your cheek while holding your hands. 

You thanked him, pulling him down to the couch, and leaning against his chest. Yawing. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, “Tired?” 

You nodded, closing your eyes, “It’s so tiring being wanted by so many handsome men..” you sighed dramatically, George laughed loudly, leaning against your back as his body shook in joy

“Cheeky girl.” he giggled, before placing a smooch against your head. “Ready to know what I got you?” he whispered. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “I guess..” you sighed, turning to him, and giving him a chaste kiss on his cheek, letting him know you were just joking.

He handed you his phone, you quickly scanned through the screen. You opened your mouth in shock, throwing his phone down on the couch, “You got me land on the fucking moon?”

.  .  . 

 “Like the actual moon?” Oscar gasped, staring up at you with an open mouth, he was lying on your chest, you were both in his small drivers room, passing time.

“The actual fucking moon.” you laughed, shaking your head. You had just finished recalling your encounter with the others, Oscar sighed, “How am I going to top that?”

You frowned, “I don’t think anyone would ever top that. I mean…” you shuddered, “it’s the literal moon Oscar. The moon.”

“That is pretty cool.” he leaned closer to you, “But I’m still going to live the rest of my life trying to top that.” 

You smiled at him, suddenly bashful, “You don’t have to.” 

“But I want to.” he held your hand with a teasing smile. “Ready for the spa day tomorrow?” 

That was Oscar’s gift to you, a very luxurious day with him, where he will take you shopping, get you pampered, and eat at the best restaurants Monaco has to offer. 

“I’m so ready.” you groaned, “Walking around all day was exhausting.” 

“But worth it, no?” he glanced at the tennis bracelet on your wrist, you giggled, nodding vigorously, “Totally worth it.”

tag list; @tinyhrry @bokutos-babyowl @ririyulife @iamspeed16 @inblurtub @lillysbigwilly @w00d1and @evie-119 @rexit-mo @annabellelee

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[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

HBCU CONFESSIONS.

Part Four

One entire month.

Valencia wanted nothing to do with Erik. He had come to terms with that after many failed attempts at trying to talk to her. She blocked him, she hadn’t been active on the blog in weeks since her last message, and every time he would see her around campus or in the dorms, she would turn a blind eye or walk in the opposite direction. She even stopped studying in the library to avoid him. And the thing is, she didn’t look sad, hurt, or angry. She walked around campus with a pep in her step and she smiled brightly.

Moving on wasn’t hard for her apparently. Erik can respect that. He fucked up, even if he hadn’t intended to. He didn’t plan on rekindling anything with Jeanette. EVER. At D9 parties, it’s a routine to get a sexy dance from a SOROR, but Erik didn’t expect to be the chosen one. She hopped up in his arms and locked her legs around him in a vice grip. His brothers circled him and cheered him on. Erik dropped her and she went in for a kiss. Valencia was gone within two seconds.

She hadn’t seen the part where Erik laid into Jeanette’s ass about that. Everyone thought it was hilarious. He was pissed. The dancing, he could have told her no, which he knows he fucked up on, but that kiss was unexpected and DEFINITELY not what he wanted. He apologized many times, tried speaking to her in person, and even asked her roommate, Brielle, to relay a message to her. Her socials were private and she didn’t accept outside messages from people she didn’t follow.

He wasn’t going to invade her personal space and corner her. She wanted to be left alone, he’ll give her that. No more texts, no more blog messages, no more trying to talk to her in person. He wished her well although he still really liked her. He really wanted another shot. But it would take a lot of work because Valencia would not let up. Erik respected that. He loved it actually. Maybe he needed the wake up call. He’s so used to things being easy. Nothing challenged him. But this? She wouldn’t budge.

After an exhausting class, Erik decided to make a stop at Andrea’s office and get some insight from his friend. On his way there, James was leaving her office. He was in the middle of fixing his tie and looking really sneaky. Erik snorted and shook his head. It was obvious what they were doing in there. James turned towards Erik’s direction and he smiled. They dabbed and bro hugged.

“You lookin’ stressed, my nigga. What’s good?” James questions with a chuckle.

“Lady trouble,” Erik replied with a monotone voice.

“You? Lady trouble? Since when?”

“Since now, fool.”

James didn’t believe that for a second.

“Not Mr. Suave himself. Listen,” James clapped Erik on the shoulder, “Whoever it is, she’ll come around, bruh.”

“I can never take you serious, Yo’” Erik shakes his head with a smirk, “Drea still in there? Should I giver her some time or?”

Erik jokingly pointed to the door causing James to crack up.

“Knock first.”

James backed away, saluting Erik before making his way down the hall.

“Come in!”

Erik twisted the knob and peeked his head around the door cautiously.

“Is it safe to enter, or do you still need some time?”

“Erik!”

He laughed before opening the door further. Andrea was in the middle of fluffing her voluminous hair into a ponytail. She cut her eyes at Erik and gave him a look. He sauntered over to her desk, pulled out the chair, and proceeded to take a seat while cuffing the crotch of his slim fit slacks.

“What can I do for you, best friend?”

Andrea folded her hands on her desk, tapping into her professor energy.

“I figured I could come to you for some advice. Before we get into that though,” Erik sat back in his seat, folded his arms across his sturdy chest, and arched a brow, “I see things are moving along with you and Jay.”

“They are,” Andrea cleared her throat, “Rather nicely actually…”

“And all that worrying was for nothing. I told you it would work out, girl.”

“Thank you for being so supportive!” Andrea replied with an overzealous tone, “Enough about me. What’s going on?”

“…Valencia.”

Andrea sat up straighter. A smile slowly crept up her face.

“I know that you know that I KNOW,” Erik pointed his finger like Denzel, “who my crush is.”

Andrea chuckles, “Of course I know. Don’t I use the blog too? I saw what she sent weeks ago…”

Erik propped his elbows up on her desk.

“Tell me I fucked up.” Erik said.

“You fucked up. And Jeanette is a fucking nuisance.”

Erik exhaled, “The car wash is tomorrow afternoon. She’s gonna be there—”

“Then tell that ho to leave you alone, Erik! You know it’s harder for me to get buck because I work here and I can lose my job, but she needs a reality check. I mean…did you want to get back with her?—”

“Hell nah. I wasn’t expecting all of that. I’m interested in Valencia. I wanna make it right so we can continue getting to know each other.”

Andrea raised both of her brows and grabbed her drink tumbler, sipping her tea. Erik gave her a strange look.

“And yet you allowed that girl to throw herself all over you in front of her.”

“I didn’t allow—okay, okay…I should have been more proactive in stopping her. I see that now. What should I do?”

Erik was desperate. If nothing else worked, he would leave her be for good this time. He was tired of the mental turmoil. One second he wants to leave her be, next second he’s trying to figure out how to win her back. This shit was driving him crazy. He had this on top of school to worry about.

“You’re known to be that guy, right? And you’re such a romantic, right? Romanticize her. Do it for everyone to see. Be your most vulnerable self. Show her that you will do anything to get her back.”

Erik drummed his fingers against her desk and twisted his thick lips in deep thought.

“…All I’m saying is, she’s a really nice girl. She’s such a sweetie pie. She didn’t deserve that mess. Do whatever you gotta do, Daka, seriously. I like you with her,” Andrea smiles, “I want this to actually work.”

Erik bowed his head and smiled. Even that knowledge made him feel like complete shit. Even after she told him how she’d been mistreated in past relationships. Andrea was right, he needed to go all out with his approach to this.

_______

It’s an abnormally hot day, the sun beating down on all those melanated bodies in the parking lot. Erik makes his way over to his group, shirtless and wearing athletic shorts that showed off his muscular legs. He wore Adidas slides on his feet, polarized aviator sunglasses, and purple paint streaks beneath his eyes like a proud Que Dog. Three Omega branded scars were on his right bicep.

His chest and toned stomach with skin golden brown made the gold chain hanging around his neck pop. Throwing up the hooks in greeting, his Bruhz handed him a bucket full of sudsy water and a sponge. Today was the yearly charity carwash. They hosted the event at a local lot in Houston and booked a DJ, grilled food, and offered pouch drinks. All sororities and fraternities from TSU banned together. The turnout was always big, and cars were already lining up.

"Where the hell is Isaiah?" Erik protests.

A fellow Omega, Travis, shrugged his shoulders.

"He already in hot water with the shit that happened last weekend. He keep this shit up, he's getting cut."

Erik slaps hands with all his boys, even men from other fraternaties, grinning excitedly to be at the function. Just then, Isaiah came strolling over wearing nothing but purple basketball shorts, his Nike slides on his feet with a gold fanny pack with his letters on it hanging loosely across his chest. He had a crisp line-up and all like he'd just gotten out of the barber chair.

Erik inclines his head, pulling his sunglasses off and approaching the neophyte, "You're late, Static. Get your narrow ass over there and help those cars."

Erik shoved the soapy bucket and sponge in his hands.

"Chill, Poet, I had to grab some supporters," Isaiah tilts his head and jerks his thumb behind him, a group of pretty women in a neon green Jeep Wrangler waving over at them from their open window. They honked their horn and shook their titties at them.

"Hi, Poet! you lookin' real good!" One of the girls shouted.

Erik couldn't help that he was good-looking. He's a tall man with caramel skin that was a shade darker due to the southern heat. His athletic shorts hung low off of his hips and gave anybody that looked hard enough a preview of what was beneath. He was a walking thirst-trapper.

"See? they want you, Poet," Isaiah slapped his chest with the back of his hand, "I'm lookin' out for you."

Erik put his shades back on and walked away, Isaiah throwing his hands up.

Andrea and her line sisters were wearing fitted tanktops with their soro colors and letters on it. They had black biker shorts on and different types of black sandals. The Zetas wore their soro t-shirts and little denim shorts. Majority of the ladies were mostly covered up but when the AKAs arrived, it was a scene straight from ATL. Bikini tops and booty shorts. Andrea shared a look with her sisters and rolled her eyes. It was known for the AKAs to pop out and do the most, which made them the popular ones. Jeanette wore a pink bikini with her bundles in a ponytail covered with an AKA trucker hat.

Erik locked eyes with her through his sunglasses and Jeanette blew a kiss at him. Ignoring her, Erik jumps in to help, motioning for the next car to pull up. A middle-aged black woman with her toddler in the backset gave Erik heart eyes out of the window of her Honda Odyssey. Erik gave her a smirk, sponge and bucket in his hands.

"How much to clean my whip, handsome?"

"Twenty dollars, ma'am."

"Here you go..."

The lady boldly slipped the twenty in Erik's waistband. He shakes his head, Ignoring the laughter from everybody who caught that. He placed the money in a collection bucket before cleaning her car off.

"Get it extra clean for me baby!" She shouted with a wide smile.

While Erik cleaned, a Zeta walked over offering free water and the option to park and grab some cookout food or a mixed drink pouch. Erik grabbed the hose when he was finished and the woman rolled up her windows so he could rinse it down. When he was done, his shorts were soaked. He knew that it was only a matter of time before his big boy made an appearance. The woman drove off and Erik motioned for the next car. Erik spotted Isaiah running game so he whistled, Isaiah turning in his direction.

"Static, you better get to work boy! making your brothers look bad! us Nupe's are known for being clean!" A Kappa brother teased.

"Nah, G, we ain't letting a dirty dawg show us up! Poet! you better get yah boy in line! making ya'll look worse than he already did!"

Erik shot a pointed look at Isaiah. Isaiah walked over and got back to work, motioning for an all-black, 2019 Ford Focus to pull forward. Meanwhile, Erik took a water break and after drinking it all down, he used the hose on mist to spray his body. He could feel eyes on him and when he looked up, Jeanette was eye-fucking him while sucking on a Bomb Pop, the cherry lime of the popsicle dripping to her chest from her sloppy slurping. She made her way over and Erik shot a glance at Andrea.

"This is the first time in weeks that I've been this close to you," Jeanette licked her popsicle, "You avoiding me again?"

Erik threw a towel over his shoulder and shut his eyes before opening them to stare down at Jeanette.

"You're not still upset about that kiss are you?"

"I am. Because you don't know when to chill the fuck out." Erik argued.

He walked around her and Jeanette marched right after him. He waved his hand for a car to pull forward and they rolled their window down. The driver handed Erik some money and he placed it in his pocket before cleaning the car off.

"You act like what we had wasn't real! you said so yourself that we could make it work again. Or did you forget?!"

Erik agressively scrubbed the car, his annoyance towards Jeanette growing, "I never said that shit to you. You wasn't thinking about none of that with that nigga dick in your mouth." Erik quipped.

Jeanette and the driver had to look at Erik in disbelief that he even said that. Jeanette was so shocked that she dropped her popsicle. Erik continued cleaning the car like he didn’t just say what he said.

“Fuck you! I wasn’t going to wait around, Erik! Don’t act like you weren’t doing whatever it was you were doing!”

“I wasn’t though,” Erik glanced back at her over his sweaty shoulder, “Look, I’m not doing this with you. Why don’t you pitch in and help.”

Jeanette was fuming. She stomped away, grabbing the water hose out of a soro’s hand, turning it on the highest pressure before spraying Erik in his back. He flinched and dropped the bucket and sponge. He turned to her with rage. That was painful, especially since he hadn’t expected it.

“THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM, GIRL!”

Erik really wanted to call her a bitch but he had to bite his tongue. She laughed right alongside her AKA sisters. Others snickered and laughed as well, not fully comprehending that Erik was seriously angry.

“What? You deserved it, Erik!” Jeanette yelled.

Erik grabbed an extra hose and sprayed the car down. He shook his head and flared his nostrils, heart thumping in his chest. When he finished, he walked over to Andrea and the other Deltas. She met him halfway and he turned for her to examine his back. The water hoses were attached to a fire hydrant. She could see that the middle of his back was bright red and irritated. James strolled over to look as well.

“You good, E?” James questioned.

“Jeanette is doing too fucking much. Look at her.”

Three pairs of eyes fell on Jeanette twerking on the hood of some guys car. It worked, because he gave her fifty dollars instead of twenty.

“I’ll be aight. She just needs to stay far the fuck away from me.” Erik spoke angrily.

“I’m here if you need me,” Andrea said.

Erik walked away and picked up his sponge and bucket. After refilling the bucket, he made his way back over. He kept cutting his eyes at Jeanette. He wanted his lick back for that. So much for ignoring her. Taking the bucket, while her back was turned, Erik dumped it over her head. She screeched and flailed her arms.

“OH MY GOD!!!! MY HAIR!!!!!”

Jeanette snatched her hat off and rubbed soap from her face. She turned a rageful gaze towards Erik and he laughed in her face. Laughter echoed across the lot.

“You started it!”

“Awww! Now you’re mad!”

“Get her ass, Poet!”

She pushed Erik and stormed past him to grab a towel. He made a crybaby motion with his hands as if he were rubbing his eyes. Some of her AKA sisters rushed to her aid and they didn’t hesitate to shoot Erik dirty looks. That’ll teach her ass not to fuck with him again. Erik refilled his bucket with a smirk on his face as he watched Jeanette drying her weave. She noticed and gave him the finger. Erik returned the gesture.

Some time went by, everyone working hard and raising money. The next car, Isaiah motioned to pull in and when they did, he recognized them and spoke their name. Erik heard and his head whipped in that direction so fast he could have twisted his neck. His once sour mood was no replaced with anticipation.

“Valencia, what’s up girl?”

Valencia was sitting in the passenger side of Brielle’s white 2019 Nissan Altima. Skai and Cindy were in the backseat. Brielle was wearing a yellow tube dress and her braids down and flipped to the side. She accessorized with octagon-shaped silver hoops and Y2K shades with butterflies.

“Hello,” She gave him a wave before passing him a twenty, “This is my donation.”

Brielle, Skai, and Cindy handed over their money.

“You ladies wanna stick around for some good vibes? Just pull in after I’m done.” Isaiah said.

“Will do. It looks lit out here,” Brielle looked around with a smile.

Isaiah couldn’t stop staring at Valencia. She glanced up at him with a straight face.

“Aren’t you gonna clean the car?” She questioned.

“Yeah but I’m tryna see what’s up—”

“STATIC!”

All four ladies and Isaiah followed their gaze towards the source of the shouting. Erik walked over with his usual gait. He paused in front of Isaiah and pointed to the car behind them.

“Get yo’ ass back there and clean that Jeep pulling in.” Erik ordered.

Isaiah kissed his teeth but before he walked away, he grabbed Valencia’s hand that was dangling out of the car window, kissing it before giving it an affectionate squeeze. She jerked her hand away, staring at him with her nose turned up.

“I love it when you play hard to get, girl!”

Erik put the sponge in the bucket and placed his hand on the hood of the car, leaning in towards the open window to peek inside. He still had his shades on, so Valencia was staring at her reflection through the lenses. She looked visibly tense, toying with her hair and jerking her leg.

“How’s everything, ladies?”

“They all said ‘good’ in unison, all except for Valencia. Erik caught Brielle trying to be discreet with bumping Valencia with her arm. Valencia shifted in her seat.

“…I’m doing great, you?”

This was the most she’d said to him in a month. He parted his lips but no words came out. Erik furrowed his brows and cleared his throat.

“I’m good. Been busy…”

He tapped the hood of the car. If only she were alone.

“…Are you gonna clean us off?” Brielle asked.

The awkward tension between them was palpable.

“Yeah, I gotchu, arms in and roll up the windows tight.”

They did as they were told, Valencia and Erik staring each other down. He went to work sudsing up the sponge and then he started with the back of the car first. He then moved onto the hood of the car, taking his time to get every spot. He walked around to the drivers side to clean the front and back doors and windows, and then he made his way around to the passenger side. Erik scrubbed the back down, then he was right at Valencia’s window again.

She focused her eyes forward while he cleaned but when he made it to the front window, Erik watched as her eyes scanned his body. He titled his head towards her, licked his lips, and flashed her a grin. She quickly averted her gaze to her lap and Brielle’s eyebrows disappeared behind her curly ginger bag. Skai and Cindy were giggling in the backseat. Erik retrieved the hose and started spraying the car down. He stood at the front of the car again, smirking at her through the window.

Erik walked over to Valencia’s side when he finished and Brielle eagerly rolled the window down. Valencia shot her a look and then she turned her attention to Erik who was leaning into the window. Valencia inhaled slowly and then exhaled a shaky breath. Removing his sunglasses, Erik kept his gaze pointed at Valencia. Now, she had no other choice but to look him directly in the eyes.

“…Got you ladies all cleaned up. Why don’t ya’ll stick around for a while? Grab some food, dance a little…”

He was really asking Valencia.

“Oh, we will. Right V?” Skai said.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Brielle replied, fighting the urge to laugh.

Erik waited anxiously for her to speak.

“…sure. We’ll hang out for a little while.” Valencia said.

“Bet. Say less…”

Erik stood at his full height, his lower half in her face. He slowly backed away and Brielle pulled off.

——————

They’d just finished the last few cars and by then the lot was filled with people having a good time. Erik slipped on a cropped golden yellow muscle tee that had Omega Psi Phi printed on the front in purple letters and the fraternity logo in the center. He sipped from a Blue Raspberry drink pouch that had some Hipnotic in it. He took pictures with his bruh’s and other fraternity buddies as well as the ladies

Valencia was leaning against the side of Brielle’s car, drinking a watermelon mixed drink. Erik kept looking over at her, wanting to approach her badly. Jeanette hadn’t bothered him since the hose incident and he was grateful. They were too busy putting on a performance, doing an AKA stroll to entertain people. Like clock work, Isaiah approached Valencia to talk to her and Erik noticed that he had one too many drinks. He kept grabbing Valencia’s arm and Erik could tell that she wasn’t asking for any of that attention.

Erik jogged over and yoked Isaiah up by the collar of his T-shirt. Valencia looked up at Erik with wide eyes. Others started paying attention as well.

“The fuck you doin’, Static?” Erik barked out.

“We were just talking, right, Valencia?”

Isaiah looked at her expectantly. She cut her eyes at him to Erik and then Valencia shoves him out of her way before storming off. Erik let go of Isaiah and pushed him back, causing him to stumble.

“Yo, what the fuck is your problem, Erik?!” Isaiah questioned with frustration.

“You don’t know what no means, nigga? And how much have you been drinking?”

“I only had two drinks, relax. You got a thing for Valencia or something? Every time I try and talk to her, here you come cock-blocking.” Isaiah fired back.

A few Bruhz came over to see what was going on.

“All good?”

“It’s cool. Poet can’t stand it when it ain’t all about him, that’s all,” Isaiah jokes.

Erik cut his eyes at Isaiah, one of their brothers clapping him on the shoulder to calm him down. He tried to get Erik riled up with some barking and goofing around and Erik gave in. The party continued and then the sky turned a deep orange. Erik could see Valencia walking towards a trash can to throw away her plate. It was now or never. Erik walked over towards her with his hands in his pockets and before she could walk away, he took a hold of her hand and she looked up at him.

“Valencia, can we talk? Please?”

“No, Erik—”

“I’m sorry, okay? Look,” Erik let go of her hand, “I know that I fucked up. I should have stopped her from jumping on me like that. The kiss—you ran away so fast you didn’t see how pissed I was that she kissed me. I don’t want her…I wasn’t planning on rekindling anything with Jeanette…”

Valencia looked down at her feet. She kicked at the ground with her arms folded. She finally looked up at him, her eyes searching his. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and feel those lips again. She looked so damn sexy in that dress.

“Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to come thru at Poetry Live tonight? I’m gonna recite some new shit and…I’d really like to see you there. Will you think about it?”

Erik tilted his head down at her. She pondered, her cafe noir eyes looking heavenward. Valencia exhaled, staring up at Erik through her lashes. He waited with bated breath. She parted her full lips to speak.

“I’ll be there.”

Erik cracked a dimpled smile. Valencia gave him a small smile and then a quick once-over before walking away. Erik made it back to his group and he spotted Valencia and her friends leaving. It was definitely a step into the right direction. Erik was happy about that. Andrea made her way over to him with a knowing smile.

“I saw that, Daka. So, is she coming?”

“She’ll be there. I’m a lil’ nervous. Not gonna lie.”

Andrea laughed, “you got this!”

“I just wanna make it right. I want us to get back to how things were, you know? I was just getting to know her in so many ways…”

Erik cut his eyes at Andrea and she stared at him with her mouth agape.

“I BET,” Andrea rolls her eyes.

After another hour, they started to shut things down and it took them another hour to make sure everything was cleaned up before heading out. Erik was exhausted with no time to get rest since he had to get ready for tonight. He made it back to his RA dorm with a sweaty body and tired limbs. Dropping his gym bag onto the floor, he grabbed his towel, rag, soap, and a fresh pair of briefs with a pair of basketball shorts.

In the showers, he cleaned himself off good, thinking about the night to come. Valencia was going to be there, and he hoped that she would give him a second chance. After rinsing off the second round of soap, Erik pat dried his skin and before he exited the shower, he slipped on his briefs and shorts. Towel over his shoulder, he exited the bathroom and made his way down the hall to his room which was a short distance away.

Back inside, he shut his door and turned on some music to get ready to. He took off his shorts and opened his closet to grab an outfit he planned to wear.

Ping.

Erik paused.

That sound could only be from one thing. He took long strides to his lap top on his desk and pulled out the chair. He touched the mouse pad to wake his lap top screen up and then he went straight for Tumblr. There, he clicked on his message thread and his eyes scanned back and forth, reading the words.

ebonygoddess1990s: I know it’s been a while. I’ve gone an entire month not speaking to him. Today I spoke to him for the first time and it reminded me of what happened at that D9 party. He asked me to come to Poetry Live tonight and I’m a little nervous. A part of me wants to forgive him, but the other part of me has trust issues. What should I do?

Erik for the first time didn’t know what to say. He didn’t feel right messaging her. He could simply persuade her into forgiving him, but then that would be manipulation. He slowly closed his laptop and stood up from his seat at the desk.

He was going to make it right as authentically as possible.

————

“How do I look?”

“Girl…you look damn good.”

Brielle snapped her fingers while Valencia did a turn. She was all dressed up herself in a denim dress with platform chunky brown heels and her big, curly ginger hair styled in two Afro puffs.

“He’s gonna love it.” Brielle said.

“…this isn’t for him, it’s for me.”

Brielle rolls her eyes at the ceiling, “Right. Sure.”

They grab their bags and then head out of the dorm room. Skai was going to drive tonight. Cindy and her were waiting in the car. They left the dorms and headed towards the parking lot. There, they spotted Skai and she was talking to Dior. Valencia’s footsteps slowed down and she instantly grew defensive. Brielle looked at her with an equally angry expression.

“Let me go, I’ll see you there…”

Dior looked at Valencia.

“Brielle,” She touched her arm, “Valencia—”

Valencia smacked her hand away. Hard. Dior raised up on her and Brielle leaped between them.

“Let’s get going! Right, Val?” Brielle pleaded.

Brielle looked over at Skai for help. Skai walked towards them and grabbed Dior by the arm.

“Yeah, let me go before I drag this bitch all over the parking lot!” Valencia shouted after Dior.

Dior yanked her arm out of Skai’s grip.

“Awww still mad your crush doesn’t want you?”

“Dior!” Skai yelled, “Chill out!”

Dior put her hands up, “I’m chill. She’s the one that put her fucking hands on me.”

“I should have been put my hands on you!!!!” Valencia screamed.

“THEN WHAT’S GOOD?!” Dior screamed back.

“Just go, Dior,” Skai moved her towards her car.

“I’m going. Just as long as she stays over there.”

Dior backed away to her car with a big grin on her face. There was a girl in passenger seat, laughing at the entire thing. Dior got in her car and drove off. Valencia took meditating breaths while Brielle tried to calm her down.

“She pulled up to my car to talk, Valencia. I wasn’t trying to start trouble,” Skai spoke to her defense.

Brielle ignored Skai. She loved her friend but if she was going to keep being friends with Skai knowing that she didn’t like Valencia and was probably talking shit about her, she had to cut her off too. They all got back into the car, Cindy rubbing Valencia’s shoulder.

She just wanted to have a good night. Megan Thee Stallion Cognac Queen came one and Valencia started rapping the lyrics. She wasn’t going to let that dumb bitch ruin her night.

Her makeup looked good, her outfit is sexy, she felt the hottest she’s ever felt. She felt great. She rolled her window down and as the air whipped across her face, she couldn’t get Erik off of her mind. Valencia couldn’t help but smile to herself. He looked extra scrumptious today. The effort he took into winning her back made her feel good. She wanted him to know that she could easily forget about him and move on.

Erik still tried. This man could have any woman on campus, hell, even his crazy ex girlfriend, and yet he didn’t want her or anyone else but Valencia. She couldn’t control the butterflies. It’s been a month too long. She could only hope that tonight would go right.

“We’re here.”

It was a huge turnout. Brielle parked and they all stepped out. From the outside looking in, Poetry Live was packed like sardines.

“Please tell me Russ saved a table for us,” Cindy said.

“I hope so, because I am not standing.” Brielle said.

They were carded at the door and when they were in the clear, all four of them walked inside. Cindy took the lead, searching the crowded room until she pointed towards a round table with a great view of the stage. They squeezed through people dancing and having a good time with drinks in their hands. Cindy wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s shoulders and went in for a kiss. Valencia sat her bag on the table and looked around. As she scanned the room, her eyes fell on Erik, sitting at a table with Andrea, James, and a few of their friends.

Valencia’s eyes scanned his body from head to toe. He had a fresh retwist and he was dressed nice with a layered gold chains hanging from his neck and black diamond earrings in his ears. He didn’t have his glasses on tonight, so Valencia could see his onyx eyes more clearly beneath the lights. She shifted in her seat and fiddled with the strap of her bag when he finally looked over at her. They locked eyes and then a slow smirk crept up his lips. She felt hot all over. He waved to her and Valencia returned the gesture. He checked her out from across the room and with an appreciative nod, he mouthed ‘you look amazing’.

Valencia blushes and mouthed ‘thank you’ in response. She reluctantly pulled her gaze away and released a shaky breath. He always makes her so flustered.

“Everyone looks so nice tonight like it’s a special occasion!” Brielle said with a sonorous tone.

“I know! We need drinks!” Cindy declared ecstatically.

“I second that,” Valencia fanned herself.

Their waiter returned and they put their orders in. Valencia looked around the room again and in a booth seat, Jeanette and Dior sat surrounded by their AKA sisters. They were dancing and causing a scene since they needed to be the center of attention at all times.

“SKEE-WEE!!! SKEE-WEE!!!!”

A few Zetas threw up kitty hand signs, Deltas threw up triangles, Sigmas threw up three fingers with their thumb and ring finger down.

Their drinks came and Valencia automatically took sips of her Long Island Iced Tea. She couldn’t stop herself from looking over at Erik’s table again and he was stomping around like a proud Que with his Bruhz Valencia giggled at Erik’s mug. He settled back in his seat and took a sip of his drink.

After some time, the lights in the room went dim and a spot light hit the stage. It was a spotlight with a purple hue. Valencia was nursing her second drink, taking careful sips so she wouldn’t get drunk too fast. She was too busy turning up with her friends to notice that Erik himself took the stage. He walked up to the mic apprehensively, grabbing the pole with one hand while adjusting the mic with his other. The sound of the mic caused everyone to turn their attention towards him.

Valencia looked at him and her smile disappeared from her face and in its place was a nervous look. Erik’s presence on that stage commanded the room to silence. The only sound being that of Usher Dot Com instrumental. Valencia scanned the room, and then her eyes looked towards the stage again.

“Hello…hello…hello. I’m sure most of you know me but I’m gonna introduce myself anyway. My name is Erik. My friends call me E, Daka—that’s short for my middle name, N’Jadaka, and Poet. Uhm,” he placed his hands in his pockets, “It’s been years since I’ve been on this stage. Tonight I have some new shit,” Erik chuckles nervously, taking one hand out of his pocket to run over his locs, “This is for you, Valencia.”

Valencia’s eyes went round like saucers. Her eyebrows shot up as she looked around the table at her friends, all of which were staring back at her with big goofy smiles. One by one, they each pulled a rose from beneath the table and handed it to her. Valencia clutched her chest, the roses placed in front of her on the table rendering her speechless. Others stood from their tables and walked over, handing her red roses painted with glitter.

“W—What?” She accepted another rose, “I can’t believe…”

After the last person, Andrea, handed her a rose. Valencia had a full bouquet in her hand. She wanted to cry. This was the most beautiful thing a guy has ever done for her. And it wasn’t over. She looked up at Erik with glossy eyes. He smirked at her and gave her a wink.

Valencia…

I'm sorry for what I've done

I'm sorry for who I've been

Sorry for where its gone

So sorry to lose a friend

I’m sorry I kiss your plump lips in my sleep

So sorry I can’t get you off my mind

As I lose myself and find myself

I’m sorry if I wonder do I ever cross your mind

So hypnotizing…

Your soft voice and bashfully beautiful gaze

I’m sorry we’re apart

I’m not sorry I’m falling for you though

Forgive me if I can’t help that I want you

Forgive me…

If I stumble and fall.

Too clumsy…and my words do not form as I wish

So let me kiss you and let my lips paint for you

All that I feel in my heart.

Let my hands touch again…and my mouth again…

Erik paused. The suspense of his words blanketing the room. Valencia drew her bottom lip into her mouth. She could never…would never forget how his mouth felt on her pussy. Saying that on stage in front of everyone…

Every rose I gave to you

I hope brings a smile to you face

Inside each rose is a piece of my soul

So Valencia

I want your trust more than anything

Baby girl

It was a bad decision

And now I want you here

So please take me back

'Cause I need you right now

Vulnerable words from your Poet…

Erik backed away from the mic, and instead of snaps, everyone clapped. There was a standing ovation. Erik exited the stage and walked over to Valencia. She stood up and tears rolled down her cheeks. She opened her arms and Erik pulled her in for a tight hug. He pulled away and Valencia surprised with a kiss to the cheek. It didn’t matter if it was the lips or the cheek, he was happy as hell.

“This is so much—Erik, thank you,” Valencia blotched her eyes dry.

“Anything to put a smile on your face again,” Erik said.

————

Valencia returned to her dorm room with a smile and her bouquet of roses pressed against her chest tightly. That was the sweetest most sincere thing any guy has ever done for her. She liked Erik even more. Brielle decided to stay with Skai for the night and Valencia was grateful because she needed to process this alone. The fact that her friends even knew what was going to happen all this time and they didn’t give her a hint amazed her.

Valencia sat on her bed to take off her shoes. As she did, she looked at the selfies she took with Erik before she left. Her phone vibrated and she noticed it was a text from Erik. She unblocked him on the ride over. Valencia read his text and she instantly smiled.

Erik: care for a night swim?

Valencia knew that he would be texting her. He whispered to her that he planned to send her a text with a surprise later. So, he wanted to go swimming? Valencia smiled at her phone as she texted a reply.

Valencia: absolutely ☺️

Erik: Cool. I’ll meet you there. Bring a change of clothes 😈

Valencia shot up from bed and headed towards her closet. She opened a drawer that stored all of her bikinis and found an orange one. A pink body con, a thong, sandals, and a few pieces of jewelry went into a bag. She quickly undressed and put the bikini on with Erik’s hoodie on top. She slipped on a pair of slides and grabbed her bag, phone, and keys. She made her way over to the pool and when she got there, Erik was nowhere to be found. She shot him a quick text message outside of the entrance to the pool.

Valencia: Where are you?

Erik: One second

The door opened and Erik was dressed in a pair of blue swim shorts that hugged his thighs. He was shirtless and still rocking the gold chains. His locs were in his face, almost long enough to cover his eyes. He opened the door further and Valencia slipped inside. The luminescent swimming pool looked calm and lonesome. The blue hue created the same glow around them. The tiny ripples created a specular reflection across their bodies as they dress closer.

Placing her bag down, Valencia took off the hoodie and sat it on a bench. She stepped out of her slides and walked over towards Erik. His eyes roamed her body, and then he licked his lips. Valencia sat down on the edge of the pool and Erik joined her. Their feet slipped into the water and it felt warm. She turned to look at him before timidly avoiding his gaze to stare down at the water. Erik didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“That was beautiful, Erik.” Her voice echoed as she spoke.

“Thank you. It wasn’t my best but…It was definitely my most vulnerable.” Erik said.

“Well, I thought it was heartfelt and sweet. How the hell did you get everyone to go along with it?”

Erik laughs, “The car wash? I pretty much went around and asked every one if they wanted to participate. The roses were planted there beneath the tables.”

“Very clever,” Valencia giggles.

“I knew you weren’t gonna let me off the hook that easily, and for that…I thank you.”

Valencia looked up at him through her lashes.

“…I’m happy we can start off where we left off.” Erik said.

“Me too…I did miss you…I just….I have major trust issues.”

Erik shrugged, “I get it. You ain’t gotta explain that to me.”

Valencia tucked her chin and smiled.

“The water looks good,” Valencia stood up, “I’m getting in. Are you coming?”

“Yeah.”

She stepped into the pool from the ladder and backstroked towards the deep end. Erik swam over towards her, water splashing on Valencia. She giggled, splashing Erik back even though it wasn’t intentional that he got water in her face. Back and forth they played water tag.

“Okay! Stop!” Valencia shielded her face, “Truce!”

“You givin’ up that easily, girl?” Erik teases.

“Yes, I am. You’re stronger.” Valencia said.

“Am I?”

Erik swam over and picked Valencia up. She squealed before Erik tossed her playfully, Valencia going under. She reappeared, smoothing her braids from her face. Erik laughed at her attempt to glare at him. It was cute. They circled each other, staring each other down. Valencia broke the eye contact first. Erik inched closer. They paddled their arms and propelled their legs to stay afloat. Erik looked so delicious. Valencia couldn’t help but to reach up and smooth his locs back from his eyes.

“…You’re so handsome,” Valencia shyly looked at him.

“And you’re so beautiful.” Erik replied.

The sound of his voice bouncing off of the walls shot straight to her pussy.

“I want to kiss you…” Erik whispered.

Valencia turned away from Erik. He watched her go under, swimming away from him. Erik followed and took in a breath before going beneath the water. He swam, following her until she turned his way, still under water. She broke the surface and Erik was right there, centimeters away from her face. They stared into each other’s eyes and then Valencia’s back hit the edge of the pool. Erik trapped her there. Water dripped from his hair and made his lashes look wet and curled.

“…Can I kiss you?”

Valencia looked from his lips to his eyes. She slowly nodded her head and Erik closed the space between them, his lips crashing into hers desperately. He yearned for her lips. Erik grunted against her lips. Valencia opened up and Erik swiped his tongue across her teeth. Valencia draped her arms over his shoulders and Erik gripped the edge of the pool harder. His chest and crotch were pressed snuggly against Valencia’s body.

Their heads swiveled from left to right, tongues dancing, their lips moved together in a sloppy manner. It was hot, sexy, steamy, and passionate all at the same time. Valencia wrapped her thighs around Erik and he took that opportunity to pick her up. They moved towards the center of the pool and after sucking each other’s faces off for minutes, Erik came up for air. That didn’t stop him from kissing her. His lips were on her neck now.

“Mmmm,” Valencia moaned.

His lips kissed the tops of her breasts and between them. He looked her in the eyes while doing it. She knew what he wanted. Valencia slowly grabs one of Erik’s large hands and guides it to her bikini strings. He didn’t take his eyes off of hers as his fingers pulled, the top falling from her chest. Erik’s eyes dropped down to admire them. B-cup, perky, with perfect nipples and areolas. Deep brown and tasty.

“Damn, baby,” Erik whispered, “Fucking beautiful…”

His lips were on hers again and then he broke the kiss, lifting her up more so that her breasts were in his face practically. Staring up at her, Erik wrapped his thick lips around her left nipple and started sucking. That sensation was a tickle that went straight to her pussy. Her clit jumped, her inner thighs gripped him tighter, and her breathing became uneven.

Erik took his time sucking each nipple. They were so stiff and begging for attention. The sensation of his warm mouth and soft lips did that. She couldn’t watch him doing it anymore, it was too much. She instead moaned towards the ceiling with her eyes shut. Now, his tongue flicked her nipples. Valencia looked down with her beautiful mouth parted, tiny breaths of pleasure from between her lips. She loved that he took attention to her breasts. Her ex would suck a nipple for only ten seconds. Isaiah didn’t even care to do it.

Another box checked off her list.

“Erik…”

He lightly nibbled with his teeth on the tips of her nipples. She gripped his shoulders tightly. He dragged his tongue and lips all over her areolas like a starved man. Valencia couldn’t take it anymore. She tried to move her chest away from Erik’s mouth but he wouldn’t stop. Her body tensed up and she started to panic. What the hell was happening?

“Unh…Erik…uh—uh—uhhhhh—”

Her body trembles, as if the water ran cold. He pressed his face between her breasts and exhaled. Did she just experience an orgasm from nipple play? A wetness that didn’t come from the water made her pussy hot and sticky. Erik looked up at her with a smirk and Valencia couldn’t help but giggle.

“That was intense and out of my control.” she spoke breathlessly.

“Didn’t I tell you I can be your first of many things, beautiful?”

“Yes,” Valencia bites her lip. “Getting freaky in a pool is definitely something I’ve never done.”

“Hmm,” Erik brought her down so that they were face to face, “Getting your pussy ate pool side sounds amazing right now, don’t you think?”

Erik’s hand came down to sit between Valencia’s legs. He cupped her pussy in his hand over her bikini bottoms and slowly rubbed up and down. His thick digits applied pressure to her clit and he could feel her piercing. Valencia closed her eyes and parted her lips.

“Nah…look at me…”

She took her time opening her eyes. When she did, she was staring into Erik’s eyes.

“I still have those panties…”

She shuddered. Yes, her used thong from a month ago.

“They still smell amazing by the way.”

A sly smirk painted his thick lips. She looked away. She couldn’t believe this man still had them! That was the nastiest thing and she loved it.

“…what do you do with them?” Valencia asked with a small voice.

“Well…I sit them on my face and I just…beat my dick whenever I think about you…”

Her face grew hot and she shifted in his embrace but Erik made sure she didn’t move. His hand rubbing up and down felt so good. Valencia started circling her hips while his hand rubbed. He chuckled at her and that Que tongue teased her.

“I guess you can say I’m obsessed. I need a new pair to add to my collection…”

“What else are you obsessed with…sexually?”

Valencia had to chew on her bottom lip to control the tremors. He started rubbing her clit in a circle with his finger tips.

“I have fetishes and kinks…bondage…voyeurism…exhibitionism…toe-sucking…that’s just to name a few.”

Valencia is familiar with BDSM but she’d never experienced any of it. He has a foot fetish and that’s something she always found interesting. She’s very ticklish, so she hoped Erik wouldn’t do that to her. She wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“How about you?”

Valencia blinked away from him, “Uhm…well I do have some kinks for some things—I’ve never tried—it’s not as hot as yours though.”

Erik cocked his head. They floated towards the edge of the pool again and Erik sat her down. He stood between her legs and looked up at her eagerly.

“You can still tell me,” Erik said with a reassuring voice.

“…okay…I consider myself to be a size queen.”

Erik lifted a single brow.

“Do you know what that means—”

“I do. You prefer big dicks. Bigger than average dicks.”

It was the way he said that. Valencia couldn’t look him in the eye after that. Erik laughs.

“Sexual partners with bigger dicks…coming from you, that’s…not what I expected.”

“What did you expect then?”

“DD/LG. Sex talk…you know size queens take dick, right?”

Erik emphasized dick strongly.

“I know,” Valencia looked away shyly.

“Aight,” Erik smiled playfully at her, “What else?”

“…I feel like I have an oral fixation…”

“Me too. I definitely do,” Erik chuckled.

He reached up to stroke between her legs. She shut her thighs and trapped his hand there.

“Spread your legs, Valencia…”

She did as she was told.

“Bring your feet up and open wider…”

She leaned back and carefully brought her legs up one-by-one. Her pussy was sitting phat between her legs from that position. Erik got closer, taking his thick fingers to push her panties to the side. What he saw blew his mind. Her wetness had a slimy consistency to it that connected to her bikini bottom. She was ready for some dick and his mouth. He used his thumb to peel back her outer lip and the more he did, the more it leaked.

“Fuck…you should see this…you’re so fucking wet, girl…”

Valencia scooted her hips towards the edge and Erik used his tongue to swipe between her outer lips. Valencia placed a hand on the back of his head. He was slurping and sucking at the same time. Anything to get all of that tasty stuff in his mouth. He flicked his tongue up between her folds and the sensation caused her clit to ache in the best way.

“Yes…mmm…Erik, that feels so good…I missed your mouth…”

That was music to his ears. She could hear him smacking his lips and the sound of his wet tongue.

“Daddy…yes…please don’t stop…make me cum…”

Pushing her thighs back, Erik did just that. He didn’t stop. He sucked that bejeweled clit into his mouth and sucked to his heart’s desire and it tugged on Valencia’s heartstrings. She had his locs in her fist. Her wet braids fell over her face. Her naked chest thrust forward. It was the most erotic thing.

“Oh my gosh!”

Her body spasmed and Erik dipped his tongue into her entrance so he could catch it all. Every drop needed to be on his tongue. Valencia pushed his head away and sat up. Erik shook his locs from his eyes and licked her sticky sweetness from his lips.

“We need to take this shit to my room now…I can’t do what I wanna do to you here…”

Valencia knew she was in trouble. He gave her this look and she just knew.

————

They entered the Omega Psi Phi house and Erik shut the door softly. Hand in hand, they crept up the stairs and when they both made it to the top landing, Erik led Valencia down the hall to his right. Majority of the house was still out for the evening. His room door was the most decorated out of the ones at the end of this hall. He took out his keys from his hoodie pocket and opened his door. Valencia slipped inside first and then Erik came in right behind her before shutting his door and locking it again. The room was cloaked in darkness with a little light from the streetlights outside peeking through the blinds. Erik took her bag from her and she could see his silhouette moving towards a desk.

He flicked on a lamp and adjusted the lighting so that it was dim. A yellow ambiance filled one corner of the room and the area where the bed resided was 80% dark. Valencia thought it was the perfect glow for what was about to go down. Erik proceeded to take his laptop out of his book bag and Valencia made herself comfortable on his bed. It was neatly made and fluffy. Some music played and Valencia figured it was to muffle the noises they were about to make but one thing about her, if it feels good, she can’t keep quiet.

Erik took off his hoodie and T-shirt. He stood in front of her with a bare chest and shorts on. They took a quick rinse after swimming. Valencia removed Erik’s hoodie from her body and her panties. She kicked off her slides and went to shield her body with her legs. Erik walked up to her on his bed and while his eyes looked down at her, he slowly peeled his shorts off. Valencia watched his movements with a steady gaze.

She could see that he was well groomed down there. When his dick bobbed out, she went still with speechlessness. It was thick, long, and veiny with heavy balls to match. Shaft the color of hickory and the tip reminded her of cinnamon. Something you would see in a porno. She’d never seen a dick this big in person. That’s all she had to compare it to. Valencia didn’t even want to venture a guess as to how big he is. Tonight was going to be the night where she explored her size queen fantasies.

“You’re so big…”

Valencia wrapped her small hand around him. Her fingers barely touched. She didn’t want to look scared, but she was. She replaced her shocked expression with a flirty smile. Erik reached down and caressed her chin. She knew what he wanted. She wished she’d practiced for this. She wanted to impress this man badly with skills she didn’t possess. Sure, she could give head, but would he enjoy it?

“Valencia.”

She was knocked out of her daze. Sitting up on her knees, she leaned forward while gently stroking him. Valencia would dart her eyes up at him timidly while his fat dick was in her face. So much dick.

Don’t chicken out, she thought.

“Go on, don’t act all shy, get a taste.”

Valencia let go of his shaft to push her braids back over her shoulders. Erik helped her by taking her braids into his fist loosely.

“Thank you,” She took him into her grasp again.

Fear flashed before her eyes and Erik used his thumb to stroke her chin again.

“C’mon, don’t be scared. Not with lips like that…”

She giggled nervously. Valencia leaned in and flicked her tongue along the tip of his dick like she was testing the waters. Erik’s grunt made her kiss his tip with her juicy lips.

“Stop teasing me and suck this dick.”

Valencia opened her mouth and Erik tugged on her braids so she could look up at him. She shut her eyes while sucking his wide tip into her mouth. That action alone made her jaws sore.

“Open your eyes, Valencia,” Erik tugged on her hair, “What I say?”

He was starting to show his dominance more and more. Valencia blinked up at him, the view from her position a sight for sore eyes. That body and that face with that big dick in her hand was all too much. She sank her lips deeper, and Erik exhaled a longing breath.

“You got a tight ass throat, ma…”

Valencia popped her lips off.

“I’m sorry—”

“Nothing to apologize about, baby. Put that mouth back on daddy’s dick.”

She did as she was told.

“There you go, put some more in there…”

She squeezed her thumb and breathed through her nose. A technique she’d learned about but never really used. She wasn’t a throat goat but she’d never had to challenge herself until she met Erik.

“Good girl…mmm.”

She added more spit to her sucking. There was no way she was going to fit all of him in her mouth. Valencia stroked him like she was grinding pepper with one hand while she sucked whatever she could.

“Look at you, all that being scared and you sucking it just like I like it…nice and slow…lots of spit…such a nasty girl.”

Erik licked his lips at her and his eyes were low. He kept making these grunting noises in his throat. She loved it so much.

“Those lips…feel so good on my dick, baby…”

Erik did something she wasn’t prepared for. He thrust his hips forward a little and more of his dick sank down her throat. Valencia gagged and her body jerked away from the feeling. Spit was hanging from her mouth and she looked up at him with wet eyes.

“Did I tell you to stop sucking?”

“N–no,” Valencia sniffled.

Erik tapped her lips with his dick.

“Open your mouth.”

Panic set in. She opened up and Erik had a hand on the back of her head and one on her throat. He started fucking her mouth slow. Valencia placed a hand on his thigh to try and control him. A knock suddenly came to Erik’s door and not once did he stop.

“Poet! Me and the rest of the guys were going out for drinks. You wanna roll out, dog?”

“Nah! I’m good. I’ll see ya’ll tomorrow!”

Erik bites down on his bottom lip when her lips popped off. He rubbed his dick along her lips, dribbling her lips with his tip before whispering for her to open the fuck up.

“Aight! We’ll catch up!”

When the coast was clear, Erik groaned.

“When I cum don’t you come up off this dick, you hear me?”

“Mhm,” Valencia couldn’t use her mouth at the moment to reply. Only sounds.

She sucked and sucked and her jaws ached but she was determined to make him cum. She was doing so well and Erik was loving it so much. He started moaning and saying her name. She felt in control. With a deep inhale, she took a chance and relaxed the back of her throat, twitching it around his tip.

“Shit, here it comes—”

Valencia sat still with Erik’s dick between her jaws. She could feel him throbbing with his release. He came in her mouth and it was thick and warm. She swallowed quickly, careful not to choke. It was a lot. She wasn’t surprised, with a dick that big and balls that heavy, it was expected. She came up for air and wiped her mouth off with the back of her hand. Erik twirled one of her nipples while bending over to kiss her lips. Tongue and all.

“You did so good, baby.” Erik whispered against her lips.

“You liked it? I wanted to make it good for you.”

“You made me cum didn’t you? I was tryna hold back but I couldn’t control it. I wonder what that pussy gonna do to me…”

“The same,” Valencia boldly replied.

“Yeah? That pussy gon’ make this dick bust too?”

“Mhm,” She jerked him while chewing on her bottom lip and staring him in his eyes with all the strength she could muster.

“You better hope I don’t bust in you…”

Erik tongues Valencia down again. His words fluttered in her mind. She was on birh control but she’d never let a guy do it. Isaiah drunkenly told her that he wanted to cream pie her, but he was wearing a condom. Erik planned to fuck her raw.

“Come sit on my face.”

Erik climbed into his bed and propped his pillows up. When he was settled, Valencia threw her leg over him and Erik popped her on that bubble booty with a hard slap.

“Turn the other way…just like that…”

She turned her back towards his face while her ass and pussy sat inches away from his mouth.

“Arch that back, girl.” Erik commanded with another smack to her ass.

Valencia did as she was told and Erik spread her cheeks . He didn’t waste time tongue-fucking her wet hole and slurping up her clit. Valencia clawed the sheets and started grinding her pussy along the length of Erik’s tongue. He spit on her pussy and sucked it back up over and over. Her eyes crossed like she was losing consciousness.

“OOH!, Erik, fuck, I’m gonna cum already!”

Erik whacked her across the ass through her release. He was showing a roughness with her that overwhelmed her. Valencia didn’t have time to recover when Erik sat up and positioned her on her back. He loomed over her and his lips pressed firmly against hers. She could feel his thick fingers between her thighs, stroking her pussy before slowly sinking two fingers deep.

“Uh—”

“I gotta make sure I open you up for this dick, girl,” Erik whispered.

His fingers pumped in and out of her. He was knuckle deep and torturing her spot. Valencia turned her face away and Erik attacked her neck. The obscene noises her pussy made was similar to squelching. She felt that from head to toe. Erik’s continuous nasty talk in her ear with a husky voice had her whimpering.

“This my pussy, Valencia?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t wait to fuck you…”

She felt a flutter in her belly from his words. His anxiousness let her know that she was going to take it all over his bed.

“Ima be in that pussy every way I can…you’re so pretty…you have the best pussy, babygirl…My dick is so hard…”

She could feel his stiffness on her inner thigh. Rigidly tapping her.

“I’ve been waiting for this shit…”

“Daddy—”

“You wanna cum? That pussy cumming again?”

“Yes—”

“Tell me whatchu want…open your mouth and tell me. All that shy shit is over wit’ you know what time it is.”

“…can I cum, please, daddy?”

She clawed his back. The more he continued to finger-fuck her, the harder it became to hold it in. She felt a sensation and she was afraid she was going to urinate. It was so intense, Valencia couldn’t fight it.

“Erik, Erik, Erik!”

“Gimme that shit.”

A stream of liquid similar to a fountain stained the sheets. It was too powerful and the more he fingered, the more she did it. She’d never ever squirted before.

“Oh my gosh,” Valencia tried to catch her breath, “I squirted…I’m sorry, I made a mess.”

She shielded her face with her hands in embarrassment. Erik moved her hands away and showed her his messy fingers before sucking on them.

“You can squirt, you can cream, I want all of that shit. Don’t ever be embarrassed about what this body can do. I’m so crazy about you…”

Erik pecked her lips and she could taste herself. He sat up on his knees and spread her thighs. Valencia hitched her breath when he started spanking her pussy with the tip of his dick.

“…A fat puss and a fat dick…you know what time it is, right?”

Valencia nodded her head with a pout of her lips.

“I’ll go nice and steady, okay?”

Erik kissed her inner left thigh before he gripped the base of his dick in one hand, gliding it between her folds before the wide tip of his thick pipe sat at her entrance eagerly. She watched as his chest moved up and down and his eyes focused on his movements. His eyes drifted up her body to rest on her face.

“It’s gonna feel so good…you’ll be begging me not to stop…”

She brought both of her arms up and her hands squeezed the pillow beneath her head. She tried to steady her breathing, but when Erik finally thrust forward, she lost her cool.

“Shit,” she squeezed her eyes shut, “It’s too much…”

The tip popped in and instantly she clenched him. Erik groaned. The snugness around his tip felt so fucking food. He needed more.

“Ima give you more…fuck, Valencia, pussy tight as fuck…”

He had his hands on the back of her thighs and both of them watched as he fed her pussy more fat dick.

“I’m tryna behave but all I wanna do is dig yo’ shit out.”

He gave her this look that told her ‘I’m ready to go berserk’ he would stop to give her a second to adjust and then more filled her up. She threw her head back and moaned. Erik had half of his dick in there.

“Look at me, talk to me…”

He withdrew his hips and Valencia’s eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open.

“Tell me where I’m at…”

“You’re in my pussyyyyyyy!”

Tears rolled down into her hairline. The sensation was so intense. She couldn’t even describe how wet she was. She felt so full.

“I’m finna’ go harder. You ready?”

Valencia had panick in her eyes. Erik kissed his teeth. He was impatient and with her good pussy wrapped around his dick she better get ready.

“Be a big girl and take it…own it and take it, ma.”

“…okay.”

Erik dropped that dick off in her all the way now and Valencia cried out. He leaned over her body causing her hips to lift from the bed. He put his fist into the mattress and the momentum of his thrusting went faster and faster. She didn’t know what to do.

“Yes,” Erik whispered, “I’m in this pussy now. hmm…”

“Unh—”

It felt so intense and so amazing. Erik sat up so he could look her in the eyes. He drew his bottom lip into his mouth and delivered sharp thrusts while staring her down. She was completely ruined and all he did was fuck her and look at her.

“I c–c–can’t hold it—”

“FUUCK—”

Her orgasm rocked through her body. Erik slipped out and she exhaled a shaky breath.

“Look…”

She sat up on her elbows. His dick was coated in cum and brick hard. Erik looked at her through his locs, a teasing smirk on his face. He was on her again, not even telling her how he wanted her. Instead, he positioned her with her face down and ass up. He fixed her arch, adjusted her legs, and then with two large hands on her ass cheeks, he pointed his tip at her opening and bam! He was back in like he never left.

“Keep that arch. What the fuck did I say?”

“Okay!” Valencia bowed her back, “Do I need to do it more?”

Erik didn’t respond with words, he fixed her himself and then spanked her ass.

“Ouch,” it stung so hard, “daddy that hurts..”

He kissed her cheeks and she whimpered.

“It wouldn’t hurt so much if you listen to what I say. Stay just like that.”

Erik’s dick went in and out. Each time it would go in, her pussy would queef. So much creamy mess. She felt it in her lower belly, it created intense pressure to the bottom of her pussy, her body quaked out of her control. So many different sensations hitting her at once.

“Mhm, you look so good right now…”

Valencia looked back at Erik.

“It’s s–s–so deep….” Valencia stuttered.

“I know, baby, but you’re doing so well, pretty girl…now daddy gotta bust it open some more…”

With just his hips, Erik showed her a good time. When he wanted to play back shots, he didn’t want you running and pushing him away. Her ass ricocheted off his hips and all she could do was grip the sheets and moan so loud it bounced off of the walls. She couldn’t do anything about the intense sensations.

“DADDY! OH MY GOD! ITS SO BIG! ITS SO BIG, DADDY! OH MY GOSH! ERIK! ERIK! ERIK!”

“Don’t push me away,” Erik locked her wrist behind her back as he barked out his command, “FUCK!”

He slowed down and Valencia tried to catch her breath. She didn’t want him to slow down. She wanted more dick. How was it possible to want more when she couldn’t even take it in this position?

“There you go…there you go. You fucking me back? Oh, so now you ain’t scared of this dick?”

Valencia threw it back on him and Erik stood there watching her with unblinking eyes and his mouth hanging open.

“Didn’t I tell you I would have you on this dick? Didn’t I fuckin’ tell you that?” Erik slapped her ass, “You showing out, girl. Fat pussy takin’ it like a real size queen.”

She looked back at him and licked her lips.

“Can you beat it up, daddy?”

Valencia was talking her shit. Erik pounded her pussy out.

“UHHHH SHIT!” She yelled.

Valencia sat up and Erik placed a hand around her neck from the front.

“Right there! Please don’t stop!” She begged.

Pound after pound. Her body seized up.

“You ain’t gotta tell me, baby, I feel that pussy…don’t hold back, give me what I want, wet up this fuckin’ dick!”

“YES!”

Erik slipped out and Valencia fell flat against the bed. She rolled over and stared up at Erik before reaching her arms out. He chuckled, picking her up and then she wrapped her legs around him snuggly.

“You want me to fuck you in the air?”

She nodded her head and bashfully smiled at him.

“I’ve always wanted to be picked up during sex. I wanna see how it feels…”

“I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Erik lined himself up and dropped her down on his dick. He palmed her ass and forced her down on his big dick, bouncing her up and down at a leisurely pace so she could feel it from the tip to the balls. Erik dipped his hips and Valencia had her arms wrapped around his neck.

“Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!” That’s all she could do. Moan and live in the moment.

Erik pressed his forehead against hers. She took in a sharp breath.

“I’m so close, this pussy gon’ make me cum so hard, fuck, gahdamn, shit, this wet pussy…tight, wet, gushy pussy—”

“I’M CUMMING FOR YOU!” Valencia declared.

“Cum on this fucking dick!”

Valencia came so damn hard. It was an out of body experience. She clung to Erik tightly and he sat on the bed and bounced her in his lap. Her words ran through his mind.

“Daddy! I wanna have your baby!”

“Valencia—”

Erik’s balls tightened and his shaft throbbed and twitched the same time her walls clenched him.

“Ima fucking nut—FUCK—”

He lifted her off of his dick and she was on her knees fast, sucking him clean. Erik sat back on his elbows and his body twitched. Spurt after spurt of his thick cum covered her lips and dripped onto her breasts. She jerked him while sucking on his tip.

“Unh, mmm, huhhhh, uhhhhh, fuckkkk….”

He was too sensitive. He grabbed his dick from her and sat up. Valencia licked her lips and tried to clean herself off. She peeked up at him and gave him a small smile followed by a giggle.

“I can’t believe I said that.”

She laughed it off, trying her best to conceal her embarrassment. She was so caught up in the moment. She covered her face and Erik moved her hands away. He helped her to her feet and sat her in his lap.

“Forget I said that.” She looked down into her lap, “That was amazing…”

Erik tilted her head up and stared into her eyes.

“I don’t want to forget it. And you need to stop feeling so ashamed. Shit, I almost gave you that baby.”

They both laughed. Valencia pressed her face into Erik’s neck.

“…you might experience a lot of emotions. It’s intense…”

“I’m so happy I got to experience it with you.”

Erik kissed Valencia on the forehead.

“Me too, baby girl. And I want more moments with you.”

Erik pulled the sheets back and he laid back against his pillow with Valencia snuggled close to him.

“You wore a nigga out…”

Valencia giggled.

“I could go for round two…”

———

@goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @theeblackmedusa @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cecereads209 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixit @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @bakarisprxncess @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @bluesole16 @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @unbotheredblackchild @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @why-wait-4-eventually @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @princessxotwod @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @beautybyfire @abluesforlyssa @xo-goldengirl @mbakuetshurisprincess @4ftwonder @raysunshine78 @sensitivelegend @sourbabynaee @gotbeefbitch-blog @efonteno @akimi-youngblood @badassdoll @shyblackgurl @childishgambinaax @teheeboo @skylahb @gigafaex @readingaddict1290 @circeaphoenix @xsweetdellzx @carewornblackgirl @queengodiva619 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @jamaicanqueenaa

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut #erik killmonger

[sleepyjuice]

protective jj protextiive jj protecitice jj ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

yup yup yup say no more ‼️

one thing about jj is that when he loved someone, he was also fully committed to protecting them at all costs. his circle was small, so when he cared about someone, he would do everything in his power to keep them safe.

but with you, he fully knew he would die before letting anything happen to you. and it sure was a task having a beautiful girlfriend, because to strangers eyes, you were just a pretty face and a pretty body, and that was just a blessing and a curse to jj.

keggers always brought out the creeps, and jj’s blood pressure was always just a bit high every time the two of you went. he would still enjoy himself, but he didn’t miss the way guys would stare at you, eyeing your body as if you were just anyones to have. you weren’t naive about it, you knew people stared, but as long as no one tried to touch you or talk to you, you didn’t let it bother you.

but of course, you didn’t live in a perfect world so trouble was bound to find you every now and then. you had a few drinks and you were feeling good. you had spent the day with jj and this was a great way to end the night together.

“yo jj, I can’t get this keg to tap, can you help me real quick?” john b approached you and jj, gently squeezing the blonde boy’s shoulder.

“yeah I got you,” jj answered, turning to you once he spoke, “c’mon, let’s go baby.” he nudged your waist, nodding towards the direction of where john b had ventured back off to.

you shook your head, “nah it’s okay, kie’s gonna be here any minute and I told her I would wait for her here. you go, I’ll be okay.” you assured him with a smile, not missing the hesitation clear on his face. he didn’t want to leave you alone, but he also didn’t want to make you feel like you couldn’t be independent and handle yourself alone for a minute.

he inhaled sharply before responding, “alright, alright, yeah. I’ll be right back.” he told you, giving you a quick kiss before going off to help john b. you took another sip from your cup, pulling out your phone to check if kiara had texted you.

“no way a pretty girl like you is here by herself.” a man’s voice startled you as you looked up from your phone, a touron, presumably had wasted no time invading your space as soon as you were alone, great.

“yeah, no, I’m not. but I’m not interested. so thanks but no thanks.” you told the man, looking back at your phone, hoping that for once, a man could have the ability to read the room.

“jesus, entitled aren’t you? can’t even let me say more than one sentence to you before being a bitch?” the man snapped, his ego obviously bruised. you did feel a little nervous now, uncomfortable with how quick his demeanor had shifted. instead of responding, you turned to walk away but were stopped when his hand grabbed your shoulder harshly, yanking you around to face him again.

he had opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by a fist to his jaw, and you jumped back in surprise at the sudden violence unfolding before you. you weren’t shocked to see that it was jj who had punched him and you set your cup down as jj kept going at him, reaching from behind your boyfriend to grab onto the fabric of his tank top, trying to pull him off of the guy.

“you think you can just touch girls, bro? when her back is turned to you?” he spat, tensing when he felt someone touch his shirt, glancing back for a moment to see that it was you.

“jj stop, stop, it’s not worth it, please.” you pleaded with him to stop, grateful that he had stepped in to help, but it wasn’t worth him getting potentially hurt over or in trouble.

“you’re a fragile ass bitch, dude. fuckin- apologize to my girl and then fuck off. I’m so serious right now.” jj eventually stopped his punches, but kept a grip on the guys shirt as he forced him to face you. he was indeed a bitch, because he barely muttered out a little ‘I’m sorry’ before stumbling back and hurrying away from the two of you.

“jesus, I leave ya alone for not even two minutes and these douchebags think they can try some shit,” jj rubbed at his now bleeding knuckles before pulling you into his chest, his hands rubbing at your sides, “you okay, pretty girl? you’re not hurt are ya?” you shook your head in response, relaxing into his touch. you hated when he had to resort to violence, but you did understand it in this situation. you were just proud of him for not losing control this time.

“I’m okay, thank you for saving me. that was lowkey hot as fuck.”

(not me getting carried away ummmm oops thank you anon <3)

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fic

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

One thing I adore about Bad Batch is how well it balances presenting two (or more) perspectives while allowing us to understand why each side has that perspective.

Take, for example, one of the most tragic scenes in season 1, where my heart just breaks for Crosshair...

Come on, Bad Batch, Crosshair has just saved Omega. Even if it might have appeared at first that he was pointing his rifle in Hunter's face, it's now clear that wasn't his intention! Can y'all stop pointing your weapons at him??!? 💔💔💔

And yet... I can still understand and sympathize with where the rest of the squad is coming from.

Months prior, Crosshair had started acting a little bit... off, rambling on about being good soldiers and criticizing Hunter's every move (including the decision to not shoot civilians). Then, the squad was imprisoned; then, Crosshair was singled out; then, as the squad was going to get him, he found them and shot Wrecker and threatened the rest of them. And they had to flee.

Oh, there was talk about inhibitor chips influencing clone behavior, maybe even controlling it; but the squad had precious little information to go on.

And then Rex gives them more information and dire warnings, and they see firsthand the dangers of the chips when Wrecker (of all people) goes all murder rampage, and it's abundantly clear that this must be why Crosshair is acting the way he is.

And immediately thereafter, Crosshair finds them... and when Hunter attempts to talk him down (because now they really understand what's going on), Crosshair "aims for the kid" and then keeps them trapped in an ion engine with the intent of incinerating them.

... Well, Wrecker had just tried to kill them all too, so it's understandable why Crosshair is acting this way. Not exactly ideal - especially since he doesn't want to listen to them and he has Imperial backing - but understandable.

And eventually Crosshair succeeds in actually capturing them. And he goes on and on about being better than everyone else and the value of serving an Empire whose definition of "order" involves terror and subjugation. But hey, apparently he's not trying to kill them this time... Until Hunter says no to joining the Empire and Crosshair makes it clear he considers this to be traitor talk... But then Crosshair helps them defeat the droids, so Hunter tries again to talk to him about the inhibitor chip.

"Wrong," Crosshair says. "I had my chip removed. A long time ago."

Just look at the confusion on Hunter's face as he grapples with the implications:

And then we are granted Tech's and Wrecker's reactions, with Tech's being more apparent since we can see his eyes - the shocked surprise followed by the eyebrow furrowing that reads to me as Tech trying to fit this revelation into his understanding of Crosshair's behavior:

(Remembering, of course, that Tech was the first to bring up the possibility of the chip influencing Crosshair's actions.)

"Since when?" Hunter continues in shock.

"Does it matter?" Crosshair shrugs.

"YES," Hunter insists.

"This is who I am," Crosshair responds.

And then Crosshair pulls his rifle (which we know isn't set to stun) on Hunter.

For months, Crosshair's brothers had been giving him the benefit of the doubt even as he repeatedly and deliberately endangered them; but now, he leaves them to wonder - Was Crosshair acting of his own volition when he shot Wrecker and tried to lure the others out that fateful night on Kamino? Was it his own choice to try to roast them to ash on Bracca? Was the chip involved or not when he chased them down as they were trying to leave Bracca?

He apparently doesn't have the chip now, and yet he's gone from holding them hostage to fighting alongside them against the droids to threatening Hunter again, all in the space of about 5 minutes.

And he insists that "This is who I am."

Crosshair is behaving dangerously, violently, and unpredictably, and he's said that he considers them to be his enemies since they won't join the Empire. And he keeps arguing with them every step of the way as they set out to escape an orbital bombardment.

Is it any wonder, then, that his brothers don't trust him holding a weapon, even when he's saved Omega's life?

#my heart breaks for ALL of them #paraphrasing from sabine wren: the empire wanted to destroy worlds and it destroyed theirs - and i'm not just talking about kamino #the bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb omega #tbb analysis

[appleblueberry-pie]

Im back with another yandere satoru request hehehe

So, I was wondereding what would happen if Satoru's beloved found out about his very unhealthy obession with her?

Hold on, lemme cook rq- So, instead of getting the fuck away from him (like most logical people would do) she decides to try her best to get him some help. Like, she'd confront him about his very distirbing behavior, (basically tearing down his entire facade and presenting it to him) and when he's begging her not to be afraid of him, not to abandon him, she tells him that she wants him to get help.

Heres where I kinda got a little stuck....the thing is...he would listen to her every beck and call, but would he really get the help he needs, or would he decieve her and trick her into beliving that he's getting better when in realitly he hasn't changed at all. (He's just alot more careful about what he does behind her back.)

Mkayyy, thats all folks. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

You kept hearing noises from your backyard.

It woke you up. You couldn't really recognize what it was, but you really hoped it wasn't raccoons eating your berries again. You admit, your garden has many fruits and vegetables, but you certainly didn't want them being eaten. They took too long to grow! So, you got out of bed, threw on your robe over your night gown and quickly made your way downstairs to your backdoor.

When you opened the door and stepped onto the grass, everything seemed fine. Your strawberries were intact. Carrots still growing. No lemons dropped from the tree. But to the far right, you did see a familiar figure continuously puncturing another man's insides with a pretty dangerous looking knife thing.

Someone was in your yard.

Someone was being killed in your yard.

You're within distance of a killer.

By the time the realization set in, the familiar looking man had already saw you staring at him. It was Satoru Gojo.

You both stared at each other. It grew painfully silent and you took a step back, your eyebrows furrowing. You began hearing your heartbeat in your ears and began breathing faster. Your lips separated, probably to scream, and Satoru dropped the knife, immediately running over to you to shut you up in time.

When he trapped you in his arms, you tried to scream in surprise, but he already had one of his hands covering the entire bottom half of your face. "SHHHHHHHhhhhhh. shhhhhhhh. shhhhhh." His heartbeat thumped against your upper back and you tried to look up at him. He was already staring down at you with those big blue eyes and you tried to take his hand off of your mouth. "It's okay, baby. You're alright. It's alright."

Well, he didn't kill you, so clearly you didn't have to be scared. You still tried to talk and he tilted his head. "......you gonna scream if I let you go?" You shook your head. He stared down at you, as if he was trying to catch you in a lie. But then he laughed and finally loosened his hold on you. You took his hand off of your mouth and turned around. "...............Why are you killing someone in my yard?"

He says nothing.

You try to look back at the corpse and he blocks your way. "Fertilizer."

You avert your gaze and hug yourself. "For your tree."

"I already fertilized it two weeks ago. You were there. It doesn't need fertilizer until like a few months later." Satoru goes silent and sighs.

"Alright, babe. You caught me." He stalks closer to you and stops when he's directly in front of you.

"I killed him because he was a terrible waste of space." His smile was unnerving and you only felt more uncomfortable and confused. "What....?" "....He was useless. And he got in the way." The way he spoke made things a little awkward between the two of you. Did this have something to do with you and him? You hoped not. But with the way he said it, and the way he was staring at you began giving you confirmation that this was the case.

"He doesn't deserve you like I do." You inhale sharply and take a step back towards your door. "Satoru-" "No, I'm serious."

"You can't just....kill someone. He's dead!" His shoulders shake as he laughs at your statement. "You think I don't know that? That's the whole point. To die." You shake your head, "I-I need to get you help. This isn't okay. You shouldn't think it's okay to kill someone just to....I don't even know."

"To have you," He states. But you didn't hear. You were already back in the house to research different forms of treatment he could possibly receive. You didn't know what you were going to do with the body.

Satoru did plan to use it as fertilizer.

He lied to you for 12 weeks. And he hated every second of it. He never liked hiding shit from you. Which is why he straight up told you that he killed that dumbass from a while ago. You deserve better than some liar. But he'd be damned if he let some random take you away from him. So, he told you that he was going to the therapist that he been paid off and also killed.

He told you the body was taken care of and you didn't have to worry about it. After all, your tree leaves looked perkier than usual(he didn't tell you that either).

When you heard he was consistently meeting with his therapist, you let him take you out more often. You let him hang out at your place to have sleepovers if you had the time, and you realized that you might have a small crush on him. You shouldn't have a crush on a killer, but here you were. You should've called the police on him a long time ago(not like he'd get rid of them either), but he promised you he'd be good. And he has been. So you trust him.

Satoru learned to stop doing things like being a killer when you're around. It was smart to do it at night. But definitely not where you live. Probably the stupidest thing he's ever done. He should buy that house a few towns off. Everyone would be better off dying in there anyways, especially if there'd be no trace of them in the first place.

He's lucky you're gullible.

#yandere #yandere x reader #reader #yandere x you #yandere character #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jujutus kaisen #yandere satoru gojo #yandere satoru x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jjk gojo #yandere jjk gojo satoru #yandere satoru gojo x reader

[buzzybee26]

I've seen people saying that this season marks a transition from serious with silly elements to silly with serious elements (particularly after the 1st 2 eps) but now that we've had a lot more of the season, I think this is wrong. This season isn't silly with serious elements, it's a serious season wearing the mask of a silly season.

Spoilers under cut

Space Babies looks like it's just "lol babies running space station, lol snot monster, lol farting space ship" at face value, but there's a lot more to unpack from how The Doctor relates the Bogeyman and being the only one of his kind to the underlying themes of abortion legislation and honestly a lot more to unpack than I don't have the brain power to write rn.

Devil's Chord keeps the silly tone, but destroys the world and does some important foreshadowing about Ruby and The One Who Waits. This is the one that leans most into the silliness, but it has the stakes to work with this analysis.

The plot of Boom is "The Doctor steps on a glowy land mine" which is a hilarious sentence and the next time preview for it was absolutely left us with a lot of questions pertaining to how that was going to be a full episode, but it ended up being a thesis on how organised religion, capitalism and war are some of greatest threats to humanity and they all make each other worse. Boom is played straight for pretty much the whole episode, but it looks like a pretty silly premise before you watch it.

The 73 Yards next time preview, whilst creepy, made the episode look a lot cheesier than it ended up being and they ran with this until the reveal that the pub goers were just messing with Ruby, after which we don't get any more stuff like uncomfortable close ups or characters expositing about local folk lore. The horror b-movie is a lie.

And now Dot and Bubble. The brightest episode of the season has the darkest ending so far. At first glance it certainly looks a lot sillier than it is with its bug-eyed monsters and "phone bad" aesthetic. This episode is all about deception. Ricky lies about the home world, Lindy lies about Ricky being alive, but there's more. The residents of Fine Time get the lie of Fine Time. The whole thing is about them looking past a vale to see what's really going on around them. The Doctor and Ruby get the lie that they will save these people. They go in, they try to help and the get cooperation for a bit, but the rich kids' pride and prejudice stops them. We as the audience receive the lie that these characters could be saved in the first place. The episode sets itself up to have a hopeful ending where the rich kids start learning to improve themselves as people in a new home that the Doctor brought them to. We get so focused on that narrative structure that we don't step back and look at the bigger picture. These people think they're so amazing because they don't waste resources with their consumerism and they have followers and they're stuck in a n environment that affirms their egos yet they can't even walk without their bubbles and they mostly get annoyed when the disappearances get brought up. Their egos are so overinflated and they're so used to being in an environment where they can only talk to other people who think and act like them, of course they're not going with the Doctor. They'll use him as long as they think they need him but they refuse to accept that they can't do anything by themselves if they're not in absolute immediate danger because they think they're so amazing. This feels like it should have a somber ending where we mourn the losses and look to a brighter future in the moment because of the tone and structure, but take a step back from it and there was no other way it was going to end.

This whole season has been a tonal lie that's been breaking down as we go and I really hope they do something cool with that idea.

#dr who #doctor who #dr who spoilers #doctor who spoilers #Maybe I'm just tired #but I feel good about this #This could possibly fit into the trapped in a tv show theory #or many other theories tbf #idk I just like doing analysis I'll let you lot come to the conclusions

[gglitch1dd]

Of the Land Pt 2

Context: Living in shame due to a misunderstanding is something you have accepted in your life. Living part of a nomadic group of wanderers in the land of Yuuie, teaches you that you have to do what you’re told to not receive more wrath. But when you are forced into marrying Bakugou Katsuki, life only gets worse for you. Or maybe it could get better with a green haired man who’s willing to save you.

Starts off as Bakugou Katsuki x Reader but ultimately will end as Midoriya Izuku x Reader 

Warning: This chapter deals with physical and domestic violence, forced marriage, sad Y/N. Reader discretion is advised, mean Katsuki

[AO3 LINK] [Part 1]

“Good morning newlyweds!” A loud voice brought you out of sleep.

Your eyes opened slowly as you looked to the empty side of the futon. You shifted but let out a hiss at the pain that you felt by your sex. You closed your eyes, deciding just to lie there for a moment. You shifted in your wedding dress. You still had it on. Katsuki had never taken it off of you.

“Eijiro, you’re making noise.” You heard the voice of Mina come out as you heard shuffling inside your tent. “Do you want Katsuki to get angry so early?”

“Katsuki is always angry.” Eijiro stated as you heard the voices come closer. It took a moment before you saw the cloth move to the side. A happy face of Kirishima Eijiro appeared with a smile on his face and bright ruby eyes. “GOOD-” He stopped as he noticed that it was just you in here. His blond best friend was nowhere to be seen. Eijiro’s face fell as he pulled the cloth to the side allowing Mina to see. His ruby eyes looked around confused. “Where’s Katsuki?” He asked.

You sat up out of your futon slowly. Mina’s golden eyes widened, seeing you still in your wedding dress. “Goodness, Y/N…” She moved down closer to you, getting on her knees by your side. She moved to help you sit up. “You’re still in your wedding dress. Why didn’t Katsuki take it off of you?”

You shrugged as you looked down away from her. “He… he just left.” Your voice was quiet.

Mina looked at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“Last night.” You tried elaborating more. “He… He finished and then he left. I haven’t seen him since.” Your voice was quiet as you tried to bite back the shame. The heavy unbridled shame of your husband not being satisfied with you on your wedding night.

Mina stilled before looking to Eijiro. Eijiro had a hard look on his face, a frown so evident and one you had barely ever seen on his face before. It looked like a mixture of disappointment but also anger. He looked to his wife. “Mina, go help Y/N bathe please. I’m going to go find Katsuki.” He turned to leave the bedding space as he walked out into the main area of the tent.

He let out a sigh. He couldn’t say he was surprised, but he was hoping for more from his best friend. He was hoping that he had some semblance of understanding for you in this situation so that he would be aware that you were both in the same boat together. Eijiro half wished he didn’t have so much hope.

Just before he could head out to the main entrance.

“Eijiro!” The large man paused as he turned to see Mina standing up and coming out from where you were. Before he could ask, he saw her move towards him with a bundle of blankets in hand. She gave them for him to check. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked down at the blankets. He shifted them around and then froze at the sight of crimson. He stilled his eyes going wide as he flicked his gaze back up to Mina.

Mina had a sad look on her face.

It all clicked way too fast, and it only made Eijiro angrier. He gave them back to Mina and he ran out of the tent you shared with Katsuki. The morning was a bit chilled but not enough that it prickled his skin. He looked left and right. Everyone was just starting their morning and sleepy children rubbed their eyes as they were awoken from their slumber to eat.

Eijiro ran to his right, moving carefully between people and being careful of small tired children that didn’t pay attention to their surroundings. He made his way to the centre close by. Standing where all the big fires were was his father and Chief Mitsuki. He ran over to the two of them as they seemed deep in conversation. “Father!”

Takeo turned to look at Eijiro. He raised an eyebrow at his son’s state. “Eijiro why are you running around so early?” He asked. “It’s not even-”

“Have you seen Katsuki?”

Takeo’s face changed as he realised that his son had interrupted him. Eijiro never did that. For starters his son looked like there was something urgent but he also looked furious. Takeo shook his head and looked to Mitsuki. “We haven’t seen him all morning.” He looked to Mitsuki.

She shook her head, her arms folded over her chest. She was the only married woman in the village that wore two piece cloth. “No, I certainly haven’t. Is he not with Y/N?”

“No.” Eijiro answered but he quickly ran away from them.

“Eijiro! Eijiro where are you going!”

Eijiro had a suspicion and he prayed that he was wrong. He prayed that his best friend was not as stupid and horrid as he thought he was. He ran towards the western edge of the community, heading to a place he had not visited since his wedding date was set to marry Mina. Considering it was morning, he wasn’t surprised when he burst through the tent, and everyone was still sleeping.

Naked women lay with sleeping men around the place, but Eijiro was looking for someone in particular. He was careful around the sleeping bodied but he was quick as he finally made it to a different space of the tent, that’s where he found him. The blond lay with one arm around a naked blond woman and another was around a slender brunette man.

Eijiro scowled as he reached over and grabbed Katsuki up onto his feet forcefully. “Huh?” The blond’s eyes opened in tiredness. “What- whoa! EIJIRO-”

Eijiro did not care for his friend’s state nor his struggling. He let Katsuki struggle as he pulled his pants up all while being dragged out of the tent. Eijiro didn’t let go of him, no matter how loud Katsuki shouted and how angry he was.

Katsuki had no clue as to why Eijiro was dragging him like this nor why he seemed to have woken up on the wrong side of his bed roll today. He let out a struggled growl as he just managed to get onto his feet, pushing and shoving Eijiro off of him. Just at the both of them got to the centre of the settlement, Katsuki managed to finally separate himself from Eijiro. He stumbled back for a moment, before finally getting onto his two feet. He let out a sigh as he stood back up straight.

Bystanders, which mostly consisted of women who were carrying jugs of water from the stream or baskets of clothes that were washed looked at the two young men in interest. They clearly were in a scuffle but why was the real question.

Katsuki stood up straight as Eijiro turned to look back at him. “Eijiro, what on earth-”

“You dare to call yourself a man!” Eijiro shouted at him. The large black haired man had his eyebrows furrowed as rage filled his ruby eyes. He raised a single finger. “One night… you couldn’t be a good man to her for one night! You use her and then go take up your fill with whores! Seriously Katsuki?!”

Mitsuki stepped forward along with Takeo, a look of confusion on her face as she looked between her son’s best friend and her son. She turned to look at her son, folding her arms over her chest. “Katsuki, what is Eijiro saying?” She asked.

Katsuki ignored his mother as he stared at Eijiro with a scoff. “You sure have some nerve, Eijiro.” He spat out. A scowl pulled onto his face. The last thing Katsuki wanted was to be dealing with marriage matters especially when they had anything to do with you. Now he had to deal with his too-good-of-a-man best friend. He tsked. “Don’t put yourself into my marriage, Eijiro, when it just started. It doesn’t matter what I do anyways, she’s a whore just like them.”

Eijiro stilled, he looked to his friend in disbelief. “Did you not see your blankets?”

“What-”

“Your blankets!” Eijiro saw that Katsuki had no idea what he was talking about.

Eijiro let out a frustrated growl in anger as he grabbed his best friend and once again pulled him along. Katsuki rolled his eyes as he allowed Eijiro to drag him towards his tent which was not too far away from the centre as he was soon to be chief. Mitsuki and Takeo glanced at each other, but silently decided to follow their sons to understand the situation at hand.

Eijiro walked into the tent, just as you and Mina were leaving, holding a small basket of your bathing items with a new set of clothes. The two of you paused as you watched a very angry Eijiro disappear into your tent. You weren’t entirely sure why he was storming inside, but you weren’t going to stop him.

Then you saw Katsuki, who was left outside with his mother and Takeo. You stilled at the sight of your husband. It was the first time you were seeing him since last night and you weren’t sure how to deal with whatever you were feeling. His eyebrows were furrowed in that look of anger that was always stricken on his face. His crimson eyes glanced to you almost instantly and you felt that pit of anxiety in your stomach only grow. You felt sick as he looked at you. Your grip on your basket of items growing tighter as you tried not to shrink back, but your eyes looked away from him.

Eijiro came outside with the woolen blanket in hand. He threw it at Katsuki who just managed to catch the item. “Is that the blood of a whore Katsuki?! Does that look like she’s been dancing around bedrolls!” 

Katsuki glanced down at the blanket. He didn’t say anything as he stared down at it before slowly turning to look at you. A disbelieving smile went to his face as he let out a chuckle, shaking his head. You didn’t like the sound of his laughter, nor the look on his face. “You…” He said as he looked to you. He threw the blanket on the floor. “You lying bitch.”

Before you could even try and step away from him, he had grabbed you by the back of your neck, his rough grab was tight making you cry in pain as you dropped everything you were holding. “Katsuki!” Mina shouted in shock.

Katsuki sneered down at you as he glared down at you in disgust, forcing you to look up at him as he held you in place. His grip on you was painful and you couldn’t help but feel tears sting your eyes as you looked up at him. “You faked this didn’t you? Where did you get the blood from?”

You adamantly shook your head as you looked at him. “I didn’t.” You denied it quickly. “I didn’t. I really didn’t. It’s my innocence, I swear it.” You told him desperately as you looked up at him. “Kat-” The grip on you tightened making you stop talking for a second as you gasped, the burning feeling at the back of your neck hurting you. “H-husband! I’m telling the truth.”

Katsuki scowled, as he glared down at you. “Even now, you stick to your lies.” He said with clear disdain.  

Suddenly a hand came down on Katsuki’s wrist. There was a look on Eijiro’s face that you had never seen before. Something dark and twisted that you had never seen on the overall gentle giant. His large hand tightened around Katsuki’s wrist. “Let her go, Katsuki. She just told you that she’s telling the truth.”

Katsuki glared. “Last time I checked, Eijiro, I am the future chief, not you. You are but my second and if you want to stay that way, you’ll mind your place.” He glared at the large man who did not move from where he held the blond’s wrist. “It is against our people’s laws for you to insert yourself in another’s marriage. Is it not?”

***

You were on your knees at the bank of the river, a large wooden bowl next to the shores of the river as you moved to wash you and Katsuki’s clothes. You moved the material up and down the washing board as you made work to try and get everything clean. You were all alone as you did your chores. Even now that you are married, the women in your community did not take kind to working with you, often not speaking whenever you tried to join them or forcing smiles around you. You didn’t want to make things awkward, so you stuck to being on your own.

It had just been two moons since your marriage to Katsuki and the two of you seemed to find a routine. He would ignore you unless you displeased him, which happened at least once a day. You would make meals for whenever he was in your tent and would spend your nights in your futon alone while he was with whatever woman he wanted to be with, just not you. You did the household chores needed and you made sure you were at his side whenever you were summoned, but Katsuki made it pretty clear that no one wanted your opinion.

You heard a branch snap as you turned your head to look in the direction of the sound. Pausing in his pursuit towards the river as a tall man. He turned to look at you. His green eyes blinked before a smile went onto his freckled face. He nodded his head. “Good morning, Y/N.” He greeted you.

Midoriya Izuku. He was the only son of Midoriya Inko, one of the women who helped the healer, Chiyo. He was what many called a bastard. A child from a woman with no husband and whose father is unknown. His mother was ostracised, but she made a place for herself even with the ridicule and hatred. She made a place for her and her son.

You had grown up with Izuku, him being one of the many other children in your generation. He had grown to be quite the handsome man, who worked hard in the job he did for the community. He used to be a bit of a cry-baby, but he seemed to grow out of it now.

He stood not more than ten meters away from you, holding clay jug. He stood in a short-sleeved shirt, allowing you to see the scars on his arms.

You nodded your head. “Good morning.” You watched him as he crouched, moving to slip the jug in the cool water of the stream. He was being careful as he moved to fill it up. “Is your mother busy?” You asked softly. He turned to look at you. You didn’t hold his gaze as you looked down away from him. “She normally comes to fetch water at this time.”

He took a moment before letting out a humour chuckled. “She is. She’s helping Chiyo with some classes for the children so she isn’t able to do this.” He informed you. He heard his mother talk a lot about you, she seemed to like you a lot, so he didn’t mind telling you about what she was doing. You nodded your head as you moved to continue on what you were doing. You weren’t going to ask further than that. Katsuki hated when you gave men attention. You focused on washing the bloody pants that Katsuki had used to make a kill in. Izuku glanced over at you. “How’s married life?” he asked. “You and Katsuki have been married for two moons now, haven’t you?”

You nodded your head. “It’s fine. Just… just trying to please my husband.” You stated as you didn’t remove your gaze from where you rubbed the pants against the washing board.

Izuku glanced at your body. Bruised arms and neck that you were trying to cover up with a cloth, were all he had to see to know that you weren’t telling the full truth. He looked down away from you, his eyebrows furrowing. “So… what do you do now?” He asked.

You lifted up the pants out of the water in the bowl, seeing that they were still their dark colour but still had some red in them. You frowned as you put the pants back in the water and grabbed the soap. “Whatever my husband deems useful of me.” You answered honestly. “Mostly chores but I can’t do anything else.”

“How come?” He asked surprised as he took the full jar out the water, not struggling with the weight as he put it down on the grass beside him.

You shrugged. “People don’t like working with me, my husband doesn’t like me following him around.” You answered simply, not bothering to dance around the truth.

You moved to pick up the pants and squeeze them of dirty water, slowly but surely.

Izuku watched you work silently for a moment. He moved to stand up from where he was crouched. “Well if you ever need something to do, there’s always something on the farm we’ve started.” You paused, lifting your head to look at him. The green haired man motioned back towards the community. “Mitsuki gave me and some of the others a job of starting our very first farm. It’s going good so far with the seeds we traded not too long ago at that old village, but we could always use extra hands. Either way, have a good day, Y/N.” He wished, bowing his head towards you before turning around and walking away.

You watched him for a moment before turning back to the pants you were wringing of water. You’d ask Katsuki about it. Maybe he might let you try.

Want to read the entire second part? Head over to my AO3.

#barbarian bakugou katsuki #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #bakugou x reader angst #mha fantasy au #mha fantasy #tw: domestic violence #tw assault #bakugou x reader #tw abuse #barbarian bakugo x reader #barbarian bakugou x reader #izuku midoria x reader #deku x reader #midoriya izuku angst

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch - LiTA (Rain/Payu) 1

Because I'm petty, I had the crowd pick which blacklisted shows I would watch for the month of Pride. I had planned to space them out more, but due to wacky weather over here (tornadoes, thunderstorms, softball-sized hail, and flash flooding), I had plenty of time to binge watch the first show, Love in the Air, which perfectly aligns with my real life theme of stormy weather, so I'm posting my random thoughts in five parts, two for each couple and the special episode.

I'm seated, I'm watching, and I'm being petty.

It starts at "2:00 AM" - Oh no. Nothing could happens at 2 in the morning, and the time just keeps going. This event isn't even going to begin until 3 AM?! Take me home, NOW! I don't care how fine these men are. I'm stopping for mini churros at Jack in the Box on the way home and going to bed. I'M OUT!

I've seen plenty of pictures of Boss in the past two years, but I still lost my breath a bit when he took off his mask because he was looking delicious in the rain.

RAIN WANTS A GIRL?!

Out of everything I saw about this show, NOBODY mentioned that Rain was trying to get a girl. I'm shook. That's a huge part of the plot I never saw mentioned. There were rumors of the actor (Noeul) being with Milk (of MilkLove), and I saw more of THAT in connection to this show than about him liking a girl within it. Where are y'alls priorities?! *looks at Tonnam and breathes deeply*

Payu's room is IN the garage? But what about the fumes? What about the noise? What about a good work/life balance?!

😬😬😬

I don't care if this boy is snuggling in his sleep, Payu is on my shit list! Instead of being like "oh, I misunderstood the signals," he pushed harder then got upset. Even if Rain secretly does want him, I need a verbalization. This is the end of the first episode, and I'm mad as hell at a bisexual on the first day of Pride. Damn.

Start of episode two and I know Rain's voiceovers are there to make me not be upset at Payu, but . . . I'm pissed at this man! He did all of that work, said it was free, but now there is "another" charge, then he shows up at this boy's school when he could've just talked to him at the shop, and feels him up in the bathroom stall. I am BIG mad!

I will admit, this is hot. Still very mad at my fellow bisexual for him saying he wasn't trying to force himself on Rain (even though he was about to mark a map on that boy's neck), but they got chemistry.

My fellow Slut for Christ, only God can judge you, but know that I am too.

All racetracks look the same so Pit Babe and Cutie Pie could have been filmed here for all I know, but I have this at 1.5 speed, unmuted, so I hear this is a legit hype rap song. WEARETHEGOOD's "Threat" with these colors?! Energy? Matched.

HE IS SPANKING HIM?!

I don't kink shame but both people should be willing participants in this endeavor. Then just to drop him on the floor like that?! That does not inspire trust! This is not Blue Boy behavior, sir! But this lecture after is. That is what I need from you. Remind him that this isn't some petty school shit but actual gangstas he is messing with. Remind him that he can't be reckless. THAT'S HOW BLUE BOYS GET KISSED!

Now it's a competition? Payu wants to fuck Rain so badly he looks stupid, yet Rain is over here saying he is going to make Payu want to fuck him, what? harder? What is this all about?!

What do you mean you didn't want to show Rain your bad side? Has all this been your good side up until this point?! Cause, dead ass, this side ain't looking that great either with you being upset you weren't sleeping with him on the first night and stalking him. So you're going to get worse?

Y'all can't sucker me in with red and blue colors. I Told Sunset About You tried that, and I'm still being petty about it. But whose house are we at now?! This is a different room than before. Payu got multiple places?! In this economy?

Prapai strolling in all happy because he had a good night . . . Sir, I'll get to your ass soon because I know how you got that happiness, and you are on the same shit list as your fellow bisexual bestie.

I am Sky and our judgement cannot be measured.

TWINS?!

All this blue between these two yet they are straight up lyin' every two seconds. The fuckery.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!

I would've let him turn it in, but I appreciate that he looks so good while looking so sad with that warm glow.

Payu gets one positive point for leaving his arms open for Rain to come to him, but now that warm glow feels sus like maybe I should be paying more attention to Rain's yellow/orange backpack.

And now for a negative point because even though I keep seeing black x white, Payu stays morally grey by playing with this boy's emotions and hiding from him in his own shop! These after scenes are not doing Payu any favors.

Payu, do I like you? Do I hate you? Do I wanna fuck you? Do I wanna kick you in the balls? All of the above?

Guess I'll find out in the next three episodes.

#love in the air #Pride Petty Watch #I only love Sky but I already knew that #I could like Payu but he is doing the most at all times #on a scale of 1 to 10 how attracted am I to Payu? #a solid 8 #on a scale of 1 to 10 how much do I want to choke him? #eh . . . 8.65 #I could do both simultaneously but I think he'd be into that #and that would piss me off #these are not color coded boys in love #they are like color menaces

[pinkpigtailsprincess]

💿: Hey, U-Go-Girl⋆.ೃ࿔* 🎀⭐️

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₊˚💿✩; Hey Dolls 2Day we’re gonna be talking about building self confidence/ self esteem and embracing your natural self!! this post is heavily inspired by U-Go-Girl By Lee Hyori Bc honestly that song literally screams CONFIDENCE!! {Long Post Ahead}

DISCLAIMER !! some of this stuff might mo resonate with some folk because of certain circumstances like social anxiety i know bc i literally have social anxiety + agoraphobia and these are also some things ive done to cope with anxiety and stuff like that so don’t even!

⋆🎀˚⊹ PILE 1 ;

Internal > Looking the Part > Baby Steps > Take Up Space > affirmations > body language > Embarrassment

⋆👖˚⊹ PILE 2 ;

External > Cutting People off > Opinions > being desperate > boundaries > compete with your self

₊˚🌺✩ ₊˚⭐️⊹♡ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

₊˚🪼✩ 1; Looking The Part !! ୭₊˚

When you Look good you feel good!! it doesn’t matter what you look like when you’re put together + confident you’re automatically attractive!! 🎀 4 instants everyday even on lazy days always make sure you’re

Showered

Hair Put together

a cute outfit that YOU like

clean nails

fresh breathe

clean skin

moisturized + smelling AMAZING!!

Hot Tips ! ;

when it comes to Hair + Skincare + Oral Hygiene & Outfit personally i recommend Hair > Oral Hygiene > Outfit because when it comes to hair care certain products in your hair product can also have an affect on your skin and when brushing your teeth + mouth wash and scrubbing toothpaste get all over your mouth and water its messy!

₊˚📟✩ 2 ; Baby Steps !! ୭₊˚

For all my folks out there who are shy/have social anxiety/introverted or just need to get out more baby steps is the way to do it i learned this from the therapist so basically i rank things from least to most anxiety inducing (?) like sitting outside or something and i do the smallest task for about how ever long i possibly can and i keep doing it till i progress and start doing harder things !!

₊˚ 🍭✩3 ; Take up Too much Space !! ୭₊˚ (The wizard Liz Inspired)

Never dim your light to make others comfortable when it comes to confidence and being yourself you gotta be unapologetic about it!! you focus should never be on other people and how they perceive you , that literally none of your business and that’s literally a waste of time and draining your own happiness So where that dress,style your hair this way,showcase your true self and fuck how other people feel that a THEM Problem not Yours!!

₊˚ 💬✩4 ; Affirmations !! ୭₊˚

Affirmations Baby!!! Having daily affirmations is a MUST!! not only boost your self esteem and confidence but they will also bring you out of the mindset that your “below the bar” & help you validate yourself without needing outside opinions!!

What i like 2 do it is keep set of daily affirmations i repeat when i wake up & throughout the day and i like to put them all around my space like put sticky notes of mirrors,keep pinterest boards of affirmations,repeat then while getting ready,making a self concept playlist full of songs that make me feel my best etc.!! (P.S Affirmations tapes are TOP TIER)

. . . DYK?

The kinds of media you consumer can sometimes affect your over all mood,self image & mentality so be mindful of the media you consume when it comes to any form of media !!

₊˚ 🍋‍🟩✩5 ; Body Language!! ୭₊˚

SUPER IMPORTANT!! wether you’re in an active conversation or just walking down the street body language will play a huge role in not only how you feel but will also help you be confident & have people be more attracted to your energy

so what were gonna do is swap all of the awkward body language and swap them out!

Tense Shoulders > Drop & relax your shoulders and put them back

Looking down when walking > Hold your head up head

Slouching > Stop slouching and Keep your make straight

When you wave don’t shake your palm > use your 3 fingers in the middle to wave in an half way down and up motion

Sit in the Duchess Pose basically it putting both of your legs together and slant them 2 the right diagonally !!

STRUT YOUR STUFF!! I can’t stress this enough a good runway strut is always on your side i promise you this!! you gotta act like your a famous super model like naomi,shalom,yasmeen,linda etc. you gotta act like your opening for a runway or something and just be FABULOUS!!

₊˚ 🏩 ✩6 ; Embarrassment !! ୭₊˚

I Fully believe embarrassment is a SOCIAL CONSTRUCT like people who are consider “embarrassing” are literally just being themselves and when people see a person being themself they can’t handle and feel this dire urge to “humble” them and

An example of this comes from one of my favorite movies Legally Blonde!! when elle first stepped foot on Harvard campus people were automatically on her tail for just being herself and what did she do?? NOTHING. and thats exactly what you gotta do view their opinion as INVALID and keep doing you!

“Out of Sight Out of Mind”

Hey! You made it to pile 2 Lucky You!

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⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 Cutting People Off .𖥔˚ 🐬

SPOILER ALERT!! The people you surround yourself with can definitely play a role in how you perceive yourself,your individual opinions,how you think & behavioral action due to peer pressure, sometimes toxic people can seep into your social circle and you might no even notice it

Signs You need to cut someone off!

- never supporting you

- repeating the same toxic behavior

- never being happy for you

- copying everything you do

- never fully apologizing

- trying to bring you down for literally anything

- talking behind your back

- trying to leave you out

- is hypocritical towards you

- is in competition with you

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 Opinions! .𖥔˚ 👙

Again like i said people opinions on you is not a you problem its a them problem especially if it’s a negative opinion it doesn’t matter you don’t need to explain yourself to anyone especially not someone who won’t even take the time to know you before making up stupid assumptions! and you sure al hell don’t need to change to fit in with anyone , you were meant to stand put and thats okay

“No Problem i don’t care You’re you I’m me” - Jang Wonyoung

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 Being Desperate.𖥔˚ 🪸

OH GIRL!! Being desperate is embarrassing for you especially if it’s over someone you have romantic interest in unt unt that simply won’t fly with me! if they’re ghosting you,being inconsistent,telling you one thing but acting another way etc. don’t be desperate for someone like that you deserve someone better! people like this probably don’t care and its silly of you to be desperate for their attention & you’re far too special for that

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 Boundaries .𖥔˚ 🛍️

Always have boundaries and never let anyone over step them, if you set a boundaries in a friendship and they keep crossing that boundaries they don’t care about your boundaries don’t let someone continue to disrespect you & your boundaries

HOT TIP . . .

Don’t laugh at jokes that are at your expense

If someone is trying to embarrass you be upfront with them and tell them how you feel

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 Compete with yourself .𖥔˚ 🌤️

See yourself as your only competition always try to out do yourself not matter what in any category even if its doing something productive one day to have a better day than you did yesterday i adapt this mindset with my blog and my self improvement i need to out do myself all the time im the only person i need to compete with!!

#2sweet2eat🎀🧁 #dolly #self impowerment #self care #self love #self improvement #korean glass skin #clear skin #it girl #itgirl #becoming that girl #that girl #girl blogger #girl blogging #dream girl #becoming her #wonyoungism #confidence #song jia #the wizard liz #glow up diaries #glow up #glamour #beauty #green juice girl #green juice aesthetic #hair #wellnessjourney #health and wellness #tam kaur

[waffowo]

I cannot stop thinking about how Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain ironically fits as the missing link of the Metal Gear Solid franchise by being this ambivalent and spiteful text that could only be possible because it exists after Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns Of The Patriots.

Like think about it. MGS4 is Kojima’s perfect farewell in how it encapsulates his complex relationship towards his own series, his own cynical but still very much hopeful take on The Irishman (2019) if you will. The game simultaneously reveals Kojima’s hope and affection by pulling every known idiosyncracy to a hyperbolic degree but also his exhaustion and suspicion through Snake being not a hero but an old killer and his reflections on his role as a pioneer of the military-stealth genre within the gaming industry. It even seeks to tackle the behemoth of closing at least the majority of the loose narrative threads. As a consequence, any future game is attacked with the question of purpose since Kojima has already said what he needed to say. 

Through this question is how MGSV can even be allowed to exist because it affirms that the question is rhetorical. The game chronologically exists in a liminal space in the middle, neither here nor there. It even narratively exists as a structural ouroboros, a almost completely closed system which begins and ends on a mirror. Kojima elevates this sentiment to an extreme level by denying any kind of player satisfaction (or nostalgia) by still being an encapsulation of a lot of overarching themes now filtered through a lens of condemnation. 

 There is at least this sense of valour found in the main cast of MGS4. There might not be any heroes but you can tell that at the end of the game, there is a sense of dignity. MGSV works completely opposite to that. The central cast of MGSV is so pathetic that the game plays like a tragicomedy as they aimlessly wander about, overdosing on some serious fucking copium that taking revenge will bring peace. A particular venture you know that’s doomed but can’t help but watch. Phantom Paz expresses this so unsubtly yet so perfectly in her final cassette tape. Peace Day is always going to be a mirage and has been even since the Peace Walker days, it’s just that Kojima doesn’t always focus on the other reality that these people are all still terrorists and war criminals. 

People who expected Big Boss instead got a confused, empty and depressed war criminal who can be found roleplaying as a cowboy. His other hobbies include non-stop vaping and managing war criminal spreadsheets. Mission 43 doesn’t feel like a descent into evil because Venom is already kind of evil but instead works by acting in perfect opposition to Chapter 1 where you sort through your digital files to identify patterns and promptly send them to death in the quarantine ward. He’s so high up the military hierarchy that of course he can’t help but have a crisis when he is directly confronted with the physical reality he used to be able to meet with mechanical detachment. 

Venom Snake also serves as a perfect way to comment on the overarching theme of agency. However, there’s no final monologue to tell you to think for yourself, no Raiden throwing away the dog tags, no Naked Snake refusing to shake an official’s hand. Instead all these typical moments are denied in every way possible to the point it’s very funny. Venom is not only a castrated protagonist but is also basically a preprogrammed AI with no hope to break free because he’s narratively doomed. Your actions don’t really matter. Even funnier, the ending is perfect by hitting you with the “you, the player, were the war criminal all along” that heightens the tragicomic beats through recontextualisation. What is more mortifyingly funny than realising that you’ve just been playing as Raiden AGAIN but instead of someone that exists beyond the player you have become canonised as an in-world character complicit in perpetuating imperialism. This works so well with how if you listen to the tapes and mission briefings closely, you realise that there are so many contradictions that no one are bringing up. Everyone is lying to you and everyone is telling the truth but it doesn’t matter. Venom just captures the disorientated position of the player, caught in this Pynchonesque paranoid labyrinth that it leaves you confused and speechless. What other choice do you have but to smoke a fat one, it’s not like you can actually resist the game if you’re completely out of the loop. 

Aside from Venom, there is of course Huey who has descended into full on pathological lying and delusion. Even if he didn’t cause the second outbreak, he’s so overwhelmed by guilt and paranoia by his other crimes he’s most likely guilty of that he’s able to beat the truth serum. When you’re rescuing Huey, he literally blames you for the destruction of the MSF. Like literally as you’re hauling ass to get him out. Even more pathetic is Kaz who makes these grand statements alongside Venom about taking revenge that you know doesn’t mean shit. His monologues are so passionate and are so depressing and yet he is met with awkward silence constantly that it’s depressingly funny. 

There’s this amazing usage of comedic timing, after you rescue Kaz and bring him back to Mother Base, where he monologues and says, “Dogs of war for nine whole years…that ends today. Now you’re not sleeping, and we’re not junkyard hounds. We’re Diamond Dogs.” The swelling of the music at the last moment is instantly followed by Kaz being shut the fuck up by a medic who puts an oxygen mask on him and lies him down. No one responds to the speech. Ocelot merely only talks to stop the medic and allow Kaz to get a few more words in out of pure pity. Likewise, Kaz’s extreme cognitive dissonance as he believes he can return to the good old days is so pitiful and poignant you can’t help but to stare with sympathy. 

The end of Chapter 1 shows how far gone he is with a very clever cut as Venom turns away from a vision of Skullface where Skullface is replaced by Kaz himself. Chapter 2 then logically shows him becoming full on paranoid, going full on 1984 Minister of Truth because what else does he have left if he doesn’t have an object of revenge anymore? I remember a moment, where he’s calling you, with this sense of manic fanaticism as he rambles to Venom that it’s time to dig up dirt on Huey and finally get him out for good. It becomes so absurd that even OCELOT tells him to shut the hell up. 

Ocelot is maybe the only normal person on board but that title means nothing in-universe. He’s thriving because he’s happily going along with War On Terror 2. He’s normal because he flat out embraces this and even goes out with his crush dressed as a cowboy. Of course there won’t be those moments where he’s of central dramatic focus here, he is simply here for the ride, his true goal to win the game of 8D chess for the man he’s down bad for. 

This band of losers are completely devoid of real purpose and are so…beta and it works because of how it both confronts an equally important reality of the characters not usually as overt and how MGS4 already closing off the franchise sets up how MGSV’s narrative and characters are already and should be dead. Peace is only possible in the case of war criminals when they’ve been buried. Evoking dissatisfaction might not always be intentional and is sometimes accidental but it works because there is no real satisfaction in beating a dead horse just to see your faves perform one more song. Especially if they already aren’t good people.

#metal gear solid #mgsv #mgsvtpp #revolver ocelot #kazuhira miller #metal gear solid v #the phantom pain #venom snake #mgs meta

[anistarrose]

So the thing is, if people ship characters who are explicitly not into romance (whether aromantic or otherwise), that ultimately doesn't affect me on a level beyond "annoyance" — I can blacklist tags, and blacklist or block people who don't tag it. What I have to ask myself every time I see these things, however, is this:

"Does this reflect how this person feels about romance-averse people in real life? Does this reflect how this person treats romance-averse people in real life?"

Because how someone engages with fiction doesn't have to be a reflection of how they treat real people, obviously — and in this case, I would of course hope that it isn't. But if you know anything about what being aromantic is like, in real life or on the Internet... you'll understand why I'm not optimistic.

Thinking two characters are so cute together that you reject a bunch of their characterization to make it happen is just annoying, not a crime! But the second you make the leap to telling a real human person things like:

"I don't care how much you say you're not interested, because you just won't realize that you and X would make such a cute couple,"

or:

"I don't care how much you say you're not interested, because you're clearly just in denial which the Right Person has to come along and fix,"

or:

"But — but — but not falling in love is just so tragic! I want you to be happy, not sad and lonely your whole life!"

like the rationales that apparently motivate so many people to ship? Then that has crossed the line into harming real people.

I don't actually think that shipping aromantic characters is the primary cause in the cause-effect diagram, when it comes to the correlating the shipping with "likelihood to say these terrible, invalidating, autonomy-undermining things to real people." Precisely, I don't think it's a cause to a meaningful degree when you compare with the opposite direction — I think people who say these things to real aromantics (or anyone else who just isn't interested!), because of what they think about these real people, are in turn more likely to think amatonormative things about fictional characters. I think that there exists a feedback loop to some extent, because fiction can influence people's beliefs to some degree, but it's not symmetric. Real-life amatonormativity causes mass amatonormativity in fandom spaces.

So... at this point, do you see why aromantic people in fandom get a little defensive about aro characters, and about other characters who overlap with aro experiences? You see why we get kind of pissy when people very selectively throw a very specific part of their characterization out the window? You see why we maybe don't want to associate with those people? Why it makes us so uncomfortable?

"Stop shipping romance-repulsed characters," in my opinion, is a understandable outcry from the community that I obviously sympathize with — but it nevertheless conceals the core of the issue, especially from non-aromantics who aren't living with amatonormativity shoved down their throats at all times, and therefore might not be able to read between the lines. At the core, this isn't actually a debate about the morality of shipping in fiction, despite overlap with that discourse on the surface.

The real cry for change isn't "stop shipping that character." It's "start accepting me for who I am, without trying to either undermine or mourn it at every opportunity." Because at the moment, the overlap between people who erase fictional aromanticism and real aromanticism is significant — and even where they don't overlap, you know what? Romance-averse folks just trying to live in peace can't fucking tell the difference.

#amatonormativity #no one asked for my thoughts on this but i have thoughts that i've never seen spelled out explicitly by anyone else. sorry #i'll get back on the aro positivity posting grind by the time the clock ticks over into pride month in my timezone i promise

[wrightingdungeon]

BG3 Companion's reactions to Tav being much younger than they thought

Trying out a new format kinda, let me know if it works, please

Lae’zel is the baby at 20/23 ish but for this Tav is around age 16/17 making them the baby 

Astarion: He didn't really care to know your age when you first met, but as you ventured forth he could tell you where inexperienced, an amazing leader, but you had no idea what you were doing. “How long have you been doing this, adventuring this darling?” He asked watching as you tried in vain to unlock a chest. “Oh well… Im only sixteen so not that long? When we met up really.” He stared into space for a moment, taking in his fearless leader, who was in fact a child. “Well thats… reassuring?” He said carefully moving you to the side so he could pick the lock for you. 

Trust me you wouldn't live down the. “Does the baby need help?” Jokes

No one is getting within arm's length of you though

#his baby *cough* his meal ticket *cough, cough*

Gale: The poor guy has a lot on his mind *and in it*. Forgive him that he really didn't think about figuring out how old you are. “Gale how old were you when you found out you could use magic?” Gale looked up at you watching you playing around with Minor Illusion. “I was about seventeen when Mystra first contacted me.” He said thinking for a moment. “Ohhh that means I’ll be a better wizard than you!” He chuckled hearing You tease him. “You can't be that young.” He jested, his face deadpanning when you admitted you were almost seventeen. 

Giving him PTSD from when he first met Mystra

He feeds you first 

Feels so guilty about you going to get him magical artifacts

Halsin:  Oh he knew, He is over three hundred but he ain't dumb. When you broke him out of Jail he was protective of you, seeing a kid leading and protecting a group of adults broke his heart. “Tav, please rest.” He said softly as he let you sit down. “I have the watch tonight, please get some sleep.” He’s a papa bear. You get hurt, he's there. Can't reach something? Halsins is helping lift you up. He lets you have your respect as a leader but he is always there to be a shoulder to lean on or your own personal Jiminy cricket. 

Guard Dog privileges

Will let you sleep on him

Will not let you in the sheresses caress

Jaheira: Mama knew, when you first pulled up to Last Light she swore she saw one of her kids running up to her. “Cub have you eaten?” She’s already going mama mode seeing you haven't slept or eaten. She tears Halsin a new one for not helping you more with Art Cullagh. After the Last Light is attacked and you are standing by her side helping protect her people she feels proud of the next generation and those who are leading it.

She licks her thumb and cleans your face without thinking of it

Teaches you how to haggle

Feels so sorry for you and the trials you must face

Karlach: The baby girl had no idea, she just knows it's fun to rage with you. During a particularly deep rage section, she was surprised when you started to cry. “Soldier?” She asks having to stop herself from hugging and burning you. “I-I’m just scared Karlach.” She listened to you feeling her own tears forming. “I’m not even eighteen, but… Everyone depends on me.” Gods she wanted to hug you, she was raging for you, and because she couldn't hug you. 

She works 10x harder to cool down her heart, not just for her, but so she can hold you

Lets you hug Clive as long as you need

Knows how you feel from being shoved into Zariel’s arms at age fifteen

Lae’zel: She doesn't care, You are old enough to hold a sword. In fact your young age and leadership skills just makes her impressed. “I will help train you to fight like a true warrior, not like the teeth-ling.” She does in fact start training you. Dear gods save you, shes got you running laps before the sun comes up.

Proud older sister

Has her own special *violent* way for praising you

Talks about when shes a general of Vlakith and you will be her right-hand

Shadowheart: She and Lae’zel were at each other's throats again when you blew up at them. “You two are fighting like teenagers! And I’m sixteen!” She felt like she got hit by a bag of bricks, you were sixteen, but you had pulled her from the nautiloid, and fought with her out of the hells. “You can't be sixteen.” She said chuckling softly in disbelief, hearing you confirm when you were born she definitely needed some wine to get over that.

Don't know how to act around you

Will give you little candies

Mom said I have to take you with me vibes

Wyll: He found out talking about his pact with you. “Yes, I was seventeen when I signed my pact, but I do not regret it.” He said taking a drink from his goblet. “Man I'm almost seventeen, I wonder what I’ll be like when I'm your age.” Have you ever seen someone shoot wine out their nose? Now you have.

Gets very protective when Mizora shows up

Big brother mode

Piggy back rides when you are tired

#bg3 #bg3 halsin #bg3 gale #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 astarion #bg3 wyll #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 karlach #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #baulders gate gale #fanfiction #bauldur’s gate #bg3 jaheira #baulders gate jaheira

[toomanywatchers]

Why I Love Travel Season’s Editing Style:

Okokok- I already made a post stating my love for Travel Season after my first initial watch-through of the first two episodes, but I have more to say. Last night, I could not stop rewatching these episodes. Possibly because I am just over the moon seeing Steven, Andrew, and Adam back in action in a show created 100% by them, and where they are allowed to make it their way- BUT there is another reason I could not stop watching it. All do in part of the editing style.

As a self-taught (and soon to be academically-taught) video editor, my favorite thing when watching digital media is seeing what techniques and styles creators use to convey an overall concept to their videos/shows. Some of the more detail-oriented editing I see in today's climate of internet content comes from Watcher's shows. For instance, Mystery Files with the corkboard graphics. Are You Scared of the hand-drawn art from illustrators Mollie Ong and Rafael Mejia. Dish Granted with the use of circle cutouts and white negative spaces. Weird Wonderful World with its cartoon sound effects and stylistic graphics/music to fit whatever atmosphere the boys are in. Puppet History with the motion graphics being put within the confines of the puppet theatre and just everything that goes into the post-production process of the lore events of that show. I could go on, but I might end up writing a whole novel in the process.

Plus, this is about Travel Season... so let's talk about Travel Season.

I was barely 5 minutes into the first episode when I realized just how different Travel Season stands out against anything Watcher has ever created. The overall vibes of the show are calm, peaceful, comforting, and relaxed. The whole show feels like I am watching an old family home video made in the 90s with a camcorder. This style of content that isn't constantly moving at a fast pace and in your face would not perform well in the YouTube algorithm, and I am glad that Watcher was able to launch their own platform to make shows like Travel Season because gosh, this is the kind of content I miss. Oversaturation and pleasing the algorithm can only go a long way as a creative, trust me.

Anywho- back to editing. I am going to point out just some of my favorite editing details that were showcased in the first two episodes of Travel Season. Starting off with probably my favorite scene from both episodes:

This small clip highlights many of my favorite details of the post-production of Travel Season. The first detail I brought up in my previous post involves The Brick aka the camera. The concept of The Brick ties in with what Meredith, Watcher's Development Coordinator, said in Pod Watcher episode #23 about physical hobbies. Something that we can create in a physical sense that does not belong to a digital realm ala the internet/social media. The idea of having a functional prop with The Brick can tie a whole show aesthetic together, but in this case, The Brick also aids in the post-production allowing the team to make smooth-flowing transitions. What I mean is sometimes, especially with a show like Travel Season where they cover many different locations/activities in one video, finding a perfect, easy-flowing transition can be difficult. Jump cuts can be useful in certain cases to hit a comedic mark or shock the viewer, but that is not the overall vibe of Travel Season. The pictures taken on The Brick from their work tripe an easily organized B-roll for harder transition points and simple things such as finding Seoul provide space for much-needed voiceovers for context.

Another editing point that is provided in this clip is the audio. Watcher has never missed the mark regarding audio choices and the addition of sound effects in their work. Sometimes people think that when editing, the editor finds a song that fits and slaps it on the timeline, but here showcases the idea of editing for the environment. What really stuck out to me is the jump cut to the location and using an effect like Lowpass on the audio to make the audience feel as though they are truly standing outside of this nightclub-esk restaurant. Then it jumps to the audio back to normal with Steven dancing as Andrew browses then back to Lowpass edit as they introduce this next location. It's just such a subtle touch that had me all giddy because small details as this audio editing elevate the scene to another level. Showing that Watcher was trying to make you feel like you are there with the boys on their travels. A true immersion effect that I just love.

Also to Adam and Annie who were both camera operators, your b-roll is absolutely superb and adds to the overall vibe of Travel Season.

The last point of editing I want to bring up as it's on the top of my head are these moments:

When they use a frame hold and then change the aspect ratio for a transition. I just find it such a charming technique in video editing. Plus I feel like this transition fits in with the whole "taking photos" approach because in a way the changing of the ratio on a frame hold is like taking a snapshot of that frame like a picture.

I just... I just love it, okay?

Honestly, I could go on and on about every little detail of this show and how they decided to overall produce it, but like I said- novel.

Watcher just puts so much love and care into all the shows they make. Even when it comes to the last process of video production which is editing the episodes together. I have not seen many channels put this much thought into the specificity of their videos like Watcher. This is why I gravitate towards them so much they care about the little things in the shows they create.

Moral of the story: I am in love with Travel Season and with Watcher as a whole.

thank you for listening to my ted talk aka my nerdy ramblings

#watcher #watcher entertainment #steven lim #andrew ilnyckyj #adam bianchi #travel season #travel season hype train #me rambling about editing #sorry not sorry

[pinkiemachine]

What is your version of Zod like? Is he similar to Transformers Prime's Megatron and DCEU Zod?

So my version of Zod is more like “The Mad King.” Ever since Jor-El slipped through his fingers/ever since the last days of Krypton, he’s been going around in his massive flagship scooping up every single Kryptonian he can find and placing them into cryosleep. (Whether they want to come with him or not.) Now that he knows there’s a hidden colony, he wants only to find Jor-El, find the colony, and reinstate himself as king.

So, a couple years go by, Clark is all grown up now and in the premiere of Season 2 of Dawn of Superman (that’s what I’m calling my show) Zod shows up on Earth in his ship. (A probe found Clark on Earth in Season 1) So now he’s showing up and telling Clark everything he ever wanted to know—that he’s a Kryptonian, actually, and there was a global catastrophe, Clark’s real name, etc etc, but he also tells Clark that he is the king of Krypton, and kinda tries to manipulate him a bit. Finally, he shows Clark the cryo chamber. This room is massive. There’s hundreds of thousands of Kryptonians slumbering in cryosleep here, all awaiting their new home…. But they can’t find it until they find the “dangerous criminal” Jor-El. Superman wants to help them, but he has no idea where his father is, and then when Zod gets real pushy about Clark coming with them into space and never coming back, that’s when Zod’s true colours start to show. He tries to capture Clark and force him to go with them, revealing just how long he’s been floating around in space, just slowly going insane as he seethes in his spite and anger and will for control, and Clark comes to realisation that if this dude is the king, he’s not so sure that he wants to be one of his subjects.

Anyway, Superman manages to stop Zod from firing the ship’s canons at Earth, there’s a big battle, it’s really cool, and then Zod leaves in a huff and goes to find Jor-El. Superman, meanwhile, feels awful. His first contact with his people and it goes like that? He’s practically branded himself a criminal and banished himself. But… there’s one thing still nagging at him. It’s what Zod told him about his father. He just can’t wrap his head around the idea of him being a criminal. Besides, if that crazy king was supposed to be the “good guy” then maybe things aren’t what they seem. He needs to go out and look for him. As luck would have it, the US Government has finished reverse engineering their own spaceship from the pod that Clark landed in over twenty years ago. Clark convinces the government to let him use it (they can bring some other astronauts along to do the planned research and stuff) so everybody wins. Lois says she’s coming too. She’s not about to let Clark go alone, and plus, this is the story of a lifetime (yes, she knows his identity at this point). And Jimmy gets dragged along for the ride. Not everyone is thrilled about this, though. One of the military men who was present when Zod attacked, a general, is totally against these Kryptonians now. They attacked Earth, they have super weapons—they ARE super weapons! A giant gun that walks! He doesn’t want them to ever come back to Earth, and he doesn’t want his daughter Lois hanging around with one (Superman). Dun dun dun. But the dude is outvoted and Lois goes anyway.

So into space they go! The season is mostly episodic, exploring the galaxy, learning about Krypton from other planets, bumping to Kryptonite, learning what the Interplanetary Coalition is, (AND we just might bump into Green Lantern) but the most important thing we learn out here… is that Kara is alive. Yes! Clark manages to find his cousin Kara and her dog Krypto! She’s been having to survive on her own this whole time, but what’s more surprising than that is the fact that she’s twelve. Only two or so years older than she was in the holo-photo. Kara explains that—with a little help from some friends she met along the way—she’s been flying through space in her rinky-dink tiny ship trying to get to the colony site. Now, you see, any time you travel in hyperspace, it takes days at the very least, so to circumnavigate that, people just go into cryo. The bigger/better your ship, the faster the hyperspace jump. Kara’s ship is… well, not great, so it’s been slow going trying to fly across half the galaxy. Which means she’s been putting herself into cryosleep A LOT, which slows down the ageing process. Most of her time in space has been in cryo. But she can’t just keep going like that forever. There are dangers involved with staying in cryo too long. The recommended span of time is roughly six Earth months. Otherwise, your body starts to slowly break down, starting with your muscles. This gets Clark thinking about all those people Zod had in cryo…

Anyway, Clark is overjoyed to meet Kara, and with their new ship, they’re able to get to the colony site much faster. And here is one of the main twists of my story: Clark actually meets his father. After narrowly escaping Zod a second time, he finds his father, they go to the colony site, and Clark could not be happier. This is the greatest moment in his life! He actually did it! The dream he had dreamed his whole life finally came true! And then…

Well, first of all, Zod showed up, because of course he managed to track them, and the final battle takes place. And it’s an awesome space battle. 10/10. And it’s here that we realise what Zod’s really been doing to all those people in cryosleep. In all his insane wisdom, (and control freak tendencies) he refused to let those people out of cryo to heal and exercise and recoup over the last TWENTY YEARS. So, uh… yeah, all those people… the people he tried to save… the people who were meant for the new world… are all kinda dead… barely having their brains kept alive by the life support systems and nothing else. All the more reason to stop him.

Zod almost gets what he wants, but in the end, the heroes prevail. Zod gets banished to the Phantom Zone, his ship gets destroyed in a kamikaze attempt to take every down with him, the colony is saved, and everyone’s happy!

But the story’s not over. There’s still a few minutes left on the runtime. ??? Well, you see, one of the astronauts on Superman’s team… has secret orders from The General. Once he finds the colony, he’s meant to destroy it by whatever means necessary. And along the way, remember what substance they bumped into? Kryptonite. Dude jerry-rigs a Kryptonite bomb and uses it to blow the colony to kingdom come. Jor-El rushes in to try to help, ordering his son and niece to stay back, but he and all the others who get closely exposed to the substance die slow, painful deaths. All those last survivors of Krypton… gone. Clark tries to heal his father, but… he’s gone too. Now Clark, Kara, and Krypto are the last Kryptonians. They take Jor-El’s ship back to Earth and (after dropping off some of the crew) Clark parks the ship far up in the North Pole where no one can try to get their grubby hands on it. It’s been a hard few days.

#dc #dc comics #superman #Zod #clark kent #Kara kent #Supergirl #fan fiction #head canon #fandom #fanon

[crossfandomslut]

At Peace in Your Fire (pt2)

Summary: Y/n goes into the the Cauldron, and ends up in Velaris. A strange place with a sentient house and hopefully some new friends. Y/n much navigate what being fae means for her now.

Pairing: Future Eris x Reader ! Eris is in this chapter y'all! It's not much haha I'm dragging it out !

Word Count: 4,900

Notes: I'm so glad people liked the first chapter and I hope you stick with me to see where this story goes ! I wanted to get to know the reader a bit more, and have interactions with the other characters to add depth to the story and who the reader is so that she's not just some rando haha Please comment your thoughts and opinions, I love hearing what you liked about it so I can try to make each chapter better than the last ! Hugs <3

Find part 1 here

Her life flashed before her eyes as the Cauldron scanned through her every memory, as if in search of an answer, but she didn’t know what the question was. All she felt was cold. As the Cauldron raked through images of their mother and her neglect as Feyre and Y/n did whatever they could to get her attention. Even if she was yelling at them, it was better than being ignored. It took Y/n a long time to realize that Nesta wasn’t ‘lucky’ for having all their mothers’ attention. The cold continued to settle into her bones as she watched her mother get sick and their father fall deep into depression after losing his fortune. Flashes of what she had to do with the baker’s son to feed the family some weeks, of Feyre being taken away by Tamlin, of Nesta looking so hopeless as they searched for their sister, and finally of tonight, being taken from their home in the night, the pain of her sister’s faces and the fear that shot through her as her toes touched the Cauldron’s edge. Deeper and deeper the water soaked through her too thin nightgown, into her skin, and settled in her bones. the water the warm when she first touched it, but as she felt herself drift further toward the bottom, an icy cold took over her senses.

At last, a flicker of warmth ran through her as memories played of watching Feyre, Nesta, and Elain try to fit into the too small bed of the cabin as Y/n curled up right in front of the fireplace, laughing at her sisters bickering for space and urging Nesta to move her cold feet away from them. Eventually, her sisters stopped bickering and they too started laughing. Those were the glowing moments of joy they were able to find in the darkest times. The warmth in her body spread as the next memory played; the four of them dancing around a bonfire in the late Summer, early Autumn. Laughing and dancing like idiots because Y/n was able to convince the baker’s son to sneak her a cake. They hadn’t had a real cake, with icing and candles, in years, but she had seen it through the window and knew she needed to share it with her dearest sisters. The leaves were just starting to change color and the warm fire light casted the already orange and red leaves in the most stunning light.

The last memory that played was the night that Nesta brought home paints for Feyre. In the low light of the evening fire, Y/n begrudgingly gave up her spot directly in front of the flame so that Feyre had the best light to paint in. She painted their tiny dresser drawers with something to symbolize each of them. Nesta had her own dresser, full of the beautiful-and large-dresses their mother used to make her wear. Nesta requested her dresser be painted black. Simple, but a bold sentiment. Y/n’s drawer, of course, was painted with flames. It was a well known fact to everyone who met her that Y/n was drawn to the heat and comfort of fire. Sweet Elain’s drawer was painted in the flowers she loved to tend in the rather pathetic gardens. And for a reason she didn’t understand at the time, Feyre painted her drawer with the night sky. Dazzling stars and a bright moon to look down on her wherever she may be.

Y/n’s chest started to glow at that memory and finally she felt warm again, seeing that dingy old cabin, that fireplace lit, and the lives it made brighter, warmer, safer.

A sudden rush of the Cauldron’s freezing water had Y/n gasping for air that was no where to be found. She wasn’t drowning, but she wasn’t breathing either. She was stuck in this terrible, dark, cold place and feeling like all was lost. So, she spoke into the void, “you may take my body and soul, as long as you promise to watch over my sisters. Keep them safe and happy and whole.”

“Your eldest sister took something from me. Something very dark and very important. You are in no position to make a bargain for her safety.” The voice came as a harsh whisper that sounded like death itself. “I will get back what she took, and more, but I haven’t met a being a very long time who was willing to give. For that, I will reward you. What gift I have bestowed upon you, you must find out for yourself. It will either breathe life into what you love most… or suffocate it.”

With those final words spoken straight into her heart, Y/n felt the world shift as she was dumped from the Cauldron, back onto the ice-cold stone floor, soaking wet. The King of Hybern’s magic lifts just enough for Feyre to rush to her and cling to her like life depended on it.

The following events at Hybern will be scarred into Y/n mind for the rest of her newly immortal life. Lucien's painful screaming that Elain was his mate, the human queen going into the Cauldron and coming out old and decrepit because of what Nesta stole from it, Tamlin demanding that the King break the bond between Feyre and Rhysand, and Feyre saying that Rhys had her under a spell all this time.

If it weren’t for their relationship as twins seeming to strengthen now that they were both Fae, and for Feyre’s daemati powers, Y/n would have freaked the fuck out. Lucky for them all, Feyre explained the whole plan, albeit almost too rapidly for Y/n to understand given what she just went through in the Cauldron. Y/n played along and acted disgusted by Rhys and horrified as he winnowed her away. The cry of her sister's name was not forced or faked.

When they landed in what she could only assume was the Night Court, a beautiful female with eerie silver eyes and black hair came rushing around the corner. “Where is she?”

Rhysand explained everything. Only after calling for his best healers to help Cassian and Azriel. By the time he finished, Mor appeared after hiding Y/n's sisters away somewhere that they could rest and process.

“She is your mate, not your spy. Go. Get. Her.” The one with silver eyes, Amren, demanded.

“She is my mate. And my spy. And she is the High Lady of the Night Court.” Rhysand said softer, but not weakly.

“What?” Mor gasped.

Rhysand explained it all, and finally said, “Your High Lady made a sacrifice for her court, and we will move when the time is right.”

“Until then?” Amren asked sharply.

“Until then,” Rhysand spared each of them a glace, “we go to war.”

Mor showed Y/n to her room, told her to ask the house for whatever she needed, and that she should rest for as long as she needed. And that they were all here for her when she was ready to come out.

The first thing Y/n asked the house for was a fire to be lit. She was ready to get on her knees and beg for the heat of it, but when the house responded immediately, Y/n let out a sob and threw herself on the floor in front of the large hearth. She sat with her legs tucked under her, staring into the dancing flames as tears streamed down her face and choked sobs rocked her body. She stared into the blaze. Fire, she thinks, looks alive but is not. It dances and sways in the phantom wind and dries the tears that had long stopped coming. Y/n wished she could climb straight into the inferno and wrap it around herself to make her bed. For a moment she wonders if her new Fae body would allow such a thing, before she grabs a plush red dyed wool blanket, and a soft enough throw pillow from the couch, and she curls up in front of the glowing heat and sparkling embers. Right where she feels the safest and most at home.

Y/n slept off and on for four days if she’s been keeping track of time correctly. The house delivered food, that at first, she was hesitant to touch, because what does a house know about cooking? But once she got hungry enough to try the steaming soup and heavily buttered bread it delivered for dinner on night two, she ate her words. Literally. The house quickly learned that Y/n preferred black tea and something sweet to eat at breakfast, something light and fresh for lunch, and a hearty dense dinner. The fire had remained lit since the first night, when the house thought it would be okay to let it die out once Y/n fell asleep, and Y/n woke up screaming and shaking, nightmares plaguing her. The fire had not gone out again. Not even a flicker.

Y/n was feeling rested and eager to learn if there were any updates about her twin in the Spring Court. She needed to know if Feyre was okay. When she swung the door of her bedroom open, Rhysand was standing there, smirking, looking like he knew every thought in her head.

“I’ll need to teach you about mental shields.” His smirk grew, “you’re just as bad as Feyre was when she first got here, practically shouting your thoughts. I could probably hear you from the house of wind.”

Y/n blinked at him. Sure, she knew that Feyre’s daemati powers allowed her to speak into people’s minds, but to just openly heard other’s thoughts? How miserable that must be.

Rhysand gaped for a fraction of a second after hearing her thoughts, before his brows furrowed. “You- you’re not angry or afraid about the invasion of privacy?”

“I mean, would I prefer you not listen? Sure, but you just said you’d teach me to block you out, so really, I just feel bad for you both. I never want to know what’s going through other’s heads. That’s their business and it probably gets gross and annoying.”

There’s a silent pause before Rhysand throws his back and laughs, “It does get gross, and annoying,” He straightens again and says, "thank you, Y/n. Not many understand that or think about how it feels for us.”

“So then you probably already know that I was about to come find you and ask about Feyre?”

“Yes. Let’s talk about it once you’ve had a bath and change into clean clothes. Have you been sleeping and living in that for four days?” He eyes her absolutely filthy, no longer white, nightgown that she had been wearing when the Hybern soldiers took her.

“Yes. Yes, I have, Rhysand. But I will take that bath and clean clothes. I smell like the deer I killed the day we first met.” Y/n’s face scrunched at the memory of the stench that she never got used to, even after all those years of hunting with Feyre. “I’d say I would come find you, but you’ll probably know exactly when I’m ready.” She winked and tapped her finger to her temple before turning on her heel back into her room. The house must have been listening, because a hot bath was waiting for her in the bathing chambers. Soaps and oils that smelled like pine and cedar, a crackling fire, and the forest after it rains. Y/n had never smelt anything so lavish. Never smelt anything that captured the feeling of home so thoroughly.

Ridding herself of the disgusting nightgown, Y/n went to dip a toe in the steaming water and stopped. It felt so much like the Cauldron. But Y/n, like always, reminded herself to be adaptable. She was fine. This room was nothing like that place. This place had bright windows that lit up the room. She could see the bottom of the tub, nothing like the dark mirky waters she was forced into. She was fine and she was safe. Y/n prided herself on being able to choke her feelings down. She thought that if she could intellectualize her feelings, they wouldn’t be able to control her. It hadn't come to bite her in the ass yet. She calmed her racing heart, and plunged into the hot water and washed herself clean of the memories using the soaps that smelled like home. Those smells soothed her soul like a balm and she started to feel like herself again.

After taking her merry time in the tub, the house keeping the water hot as long as she needed it, Y/n stood and grabbed a towel from the vanity in the corner of the room. Y/n hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror yet, but figured now was as good of a time as any. She sat on the round cushioned stool and slowly lifted her head. She tilted her head back and forth, examining the subtle changes that suddenly made her Fae. She tucked her hair behind her ears to reveal the exaggerated, but soft, pointed ears. Smiled at herself to get a look at the elongated canines, and noticed how bright and sharp her eyes looked. She didn’t have her twin’s steely blue eyes, her father said she had his mother’s eyes. Y/n looked into her own y/e/c eyes and just blinked a few times. She was most definitely Fae now. And she would adapt.

Getting dressed quickly, Y/n stepped into the hall to find Rhysand, already waiting for her. He examined her loose, flowy brown pants, and the soft grey seater she chose. “No Night Court black?”

She tripped over her own foot at the words, “oh- oh no, I’m sorry, I’ve offended you. I’ll go change-!

“No! No, Y/n stop,” he gently griped her arm to prevent her from running back in her room. “It didn’t even occur to me that you might feel comfortable in something else. I’m the one who’s sorry.” He tilts his head, so their eyes meet.

“I just feel better in colors that remind me of the woods we grew up in. It makes me feel like myself in their new, strange body and this new world we’ve been brought into. I did not have any intention of disrespecting you or your home, Rhysand.”

“Please, Y/n, call me Rhys. We are family now, right? Humans would call us, ‘in-laws’?” His smile grew as Y/n’s lips twitched into their own smile, his hand dropping from her arm.

“Of course, Rhys. I’m glad to know my sister has found someone who loves her so well. I look forward to getting to know you as we work to bring Feyre home.”

“Yes, let’s get to work on that. Follow me.” Rhys guides her down the hall and through the foyer into a large seating area. Mor, Cassian, Azriel and Amren are all speaking lowly. Rhys clears his throat as he and Y/n enter the room, and all eyes fall on Y/n. More is the first to stand up and wrap her in a tight embrace. Y/n is shocked for a brief moment, before wrapping her arms around Mor in return.

Mor pulls back with tears in her eyes to say, “we love your sister so much. We are honored to have you in our family too. We will get her back.” Y/n smiles at her fondly and Mor turns to sit back down next to Cassian. Cassian and Azriel both smile and wave at her, just like they did the first time they met in the human lands. Amren and Y/n exchange nods, and Y/n predicts that is the most emotion she’ll ever see from the female.

Rhys is the first to speak next. “Let’s get started shall we?” He took a seat in the remaining armchair, and Y/n took up a spot on the floor, directly in front of the fireplace. Her favorite place to be. “Y/n, you don’t have to sit on the floor. We can ask the house to provide another chair.”

“I’m perfectly content right here, but thank you, Rhys,” Y/n went as far as to shuffle further back toward the heat.

Azriel’s usually calculated expression fell as he stared at her in total confusion. Never had he seen someone look like they wanted to be consumed by flames. He couldn’t even comprehend it. He schooled his features when he felt Cassian pop him in the ribs with his elbow and clear this throat.

“As you wish. Azriel, I know you’re still recovering, and I do not want you to push it, but have your shadows told you anything?”

“Not much. Feyre is still hardly allowed to leave the house, Lucien is still warry of her, and Tamlin is none the wiser. She isn’t eating enough.” He says the last part so quietly and with so much anger, a shiver runs down Y/n spine. She decides to never get on Azriel’s bad side.

“Have you heard from her? Can’t you two talk through your minds or something?” Cassian asks.

“Not much. We don’t want Tamlin, or Lucien for that matter, to get suspicious. But when we do speak, she sounds so far away and it’s an effort to keep the line open. Something isn’t right, but I don’t know what it is. When she was in Spring before it wasn’t this hard. It has to be Hybern’s presence there.”

“So all we can do is sit around and wait for more information?” Mor asks incredulously.

“I wish it could say otherwise, but for now, yes. Azriel and Cassian, you need to heal and get back to training, so we’re prepared when something changes and we have to move.” They call nod their agreement and accept that it’s all they can do right now.

“I want to train too.” Y/n’s voice startles them, as if they forgot she was there.

“Of course, we’ll work on your mental shields and-“

“No- I’m sorry- I don’t mean to interrupt. I mean, yes, I do want to train with you to build my mental shield, but I also want to train with Cassian and Azriel. I want to feel strong. I want to be strong. I never want what happened in Hybern to happen again. I never want to feel helpless like that and I want to help my sister.” Y/n was firm and confident when she locked eyes with Rhys, even as tears welled in her waterline.

“Okay. Whatever you need, we’ll do it.” Rhys looked at her like he could see right through her. To the scared little girl who lost her mother, who had to learn to hunt and steal and sell her body for godsdamned bread. She had never felt so vulnerable, and she quickly broke the stare.

“Are you okay with that?” Y/n asked Cassian and Azriel.

“Yes.” “Of course.” They replies in unison.

“Thank you.”

The day turned into evening and the group is still sitting around the tiny coffee table in that grand living room. Just relaxing in each other’s presence and sharing stories with Y/n, learning more about her. “Everyone thinks that the fire painted on the drawer was for Nesta because she is so fierce, but it’s not true,” Y/n chuckles fondly as she thinks of her sharp tongued eldest sister. “I have always been drawn to the flames. Even as a baby, my parents had to keep candles far away from me.” That gets a laugh from everyone in the room. Even Amren lets out a short breath that could be considered a laugh.

“So which one was Nesta’s? Don’t tell me it was the flowers,” Cassian asked. You could tell he was attached to her, even though they had only a few brief interactions and Nesta was far less than pleasant.

“Nesta had her own full wardrobe, painted black and full of dresses our mother stuffed her into when she gave her those awful etiquette lessons.” Y/n shuddered at the memory. And then paused, just now realizing that she had no idea where her sisters were. Her heart started racing and her eyes shot to Rhys’s, knowing he had already heard every thought.

“They’re safe. They aren’t adapting as well as you are, but they’re safe and they’re okay. I promise you; I will not let anything happen to them.” Y/n laughed internally as that word. Adapting. It’s what she was best at she supposed.

Weeks had passed and Y/n had been dedicated to training with Cassian and Azriel at least once every day, sometimes twice if her energy is pent up enough. And she has a lesson with Rhys everyday too. She’s learning to read, and her mental shield is solid. Her body had never felt so strong. It was a real hit to her ego though to learn that she had been carrying her body weight wrong and lifting deer over her shoulders incorrectly her whole life. Training with Azriel was calmer than training with Cassian. Azriel moved with so much grace and control and was making you learn all the movements and balance exercises. Cassian was intense. Teaching you how to move swiftly to block and avoid kicks and punches. The fact that was going easy on you was an even bigger hit to your ego.

On this particular day, Y/n trained with Azriel in the morning, noticing how much more balanced her body felt, could isolate muscles and utilize them. After lunch was her lesson with Rhys. She’s able to push him out of her mind now, still with some effort, but she doesn’t break out in a sweat now. She spent the afternoon resting and reading when Cassian stormed into the library and asked if she wanted to train. That brought them to the training area on the townhouse. Cassian complains that it isn’t as big as the one at the house of wind, but it did the job. Cassian had just gotten back from visiting the house of wind and he was angry. He was throwing punches and seeming to forget who he was sparring with. He was moving too fast and punching too hard, but Y/n couldn’t seem to get the words out to tell him to stop. He advanced forward and as she backed up, she stumbled, allowing Cassian to land a punch straight to her jaw. Her head rattled but before she could even register the pain, she yelled, teeth bared and fists clenched to her side, “ENOUGH CASSIAN!”

The world stopped, and after two, three, four heartbeats she realized Cassian wasn’t breathing. He was staring at her as his eyes went wide and he grabbed his throat. He crashed to his knees and reached for her hands. Releasing her tight grip on her own fists, air rushed back into Cassian’s lung. He gasped for breath as Y/n fell to her knees too and let out a sob. “I am so sorry Cassian. I am so so sorry; I don’t know what happened. I’m so sorry.” She somehow managed to get the words out between sobs and gasping for air.

“Y/n, Y/n it’s okay! I’m the one who’s sorry. I can’t believe I hit you, I am so sorry Y/n. Please, look at me, I need you to breathe. I’m okay. I’m sorry.” He held her and rocked her back and forth until her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace and she could lift her head to look at him. “Shit. Rhys is going to kill me when he sees that bruise on your face. Mor might beat him to it though. I’m so sorry.”

Y/n stands up and walks to the bathing room down the hall. Cassian ran to her when he heard her start…laughing? The picture in front of him as he skidded around the corner was one he could never have predicted. Y/n was clutching her stomach, leaning over the sink and laughing hysterically at her reflection. Cassian had punched her so hard that the bruising started at her jaw and gave her a black eye. Cassian was horrified, but Y/n just kept laughing, so eventually, he did too. Mor, Rhys, and Azriel came running around the corner too, wondering what the commotion was about. When they saw Y/n face, a collective, “what the fuck Cass?” Was sounded by the other three Fae. This made Y/n and Cassian double down and laugh even harder.

When they caught their breath again, Cassian stood up proudly, patted Y/n on the back and said, “I helped Y/n discover her powers today. No big deal,” he said with no small amount of smugness.

“You mean you needed a punching bag and I had to defend myself?” Y/n quirked a brow at him.

“Semantics!” He argued.

“Wait wait wait, Y/n has powers?” Rhys’s eyes went hazy as he mentally called for Amren. “Tell me everything.”

Y/n recounted the events of their fight and how she literally took his breath away. She didn’t know she was controlling any magic; she hadn’t felt it rise up, but it must have subconsciously come to her defense.

“You’re going to have to drop down to one lesson with Cass and Az a day and pick up an extra with me and Amren. We need to learn more about this power. Power gifted by the Cauldron itself is new territory for all of us. We don’t know what the boundaries of your power are.” The sudden seriousness in Rhys’s face felt sobering as Y/n and Cassian were pulled out of their laughter and back into the reality of who and what Y/n was. Cauldron made.

Another few weeks passed of training non-stop. The magic was a lot harder for Y/n to figure out than the fighting. As of today, she can suck the air out of a room that’s about 12ft by 12ft and hold it for five minutes before faltering, and she can send a blast of air and knock Cassian over from 30ft away. Cassian was used as the dummy for both tests as an apology for decking her in the face.

Y/n was in the middle of her reading lesson for the day when Azriel came crashing into the room. “We found her. Feyre got out of Spring; we have to get her. We need your help and your magic.”

She was up in an instant. She didn’t care that she wasn’t in fighting leathers, she just needed to get to her sister. Before she had a chance to ask any questions, Azriel grabbed her and jumped from the balcony. Y/n hadn’t flown before. Never wanted to be a burden to the Illyrians. But wow, what an experience. Azriel quickly caught up to Cassian and the three of them flew swiftly and precisely.

“Where are we going?” Y/n noticed the moment they left Velaris and the landscape changed to an icy tundra. She missed the heat and comfort of her spot in front of the fireplace in the library already.

“The Winter Court. I’m sorry there wasn’t time to get you in warmer clothes. I know you have a hard time with the cold. I should have prepared you.” Azriel felt terrible, but Feyre needed them. Y/n would adapt.

“It’s okay, Az. Feyre is more important. I’m okay,” and she meant it.

The touchdown was quick. Not a lot of time to slow down and land gently. The Illyrians landed and shook the ground. Azriel was softer about letting Y/n down. Before her was quite possibly her worst nightmare unfolding. Her twin sister, her favorite person in the entire world, was being restrained by the thing that brought her the most peace. A strange male was standing above her sister, using his gift of fire to hold her at her wrists and her neck. Y/n was frozen in place. Her mind went blank as her body was slammed with fear and disgust at the gross misuse of the flames licking at her sister’s throat. It felt like a violation to her very core. Her very soul was raging at the sight. Not only for her sister being in danger, but because of the way the male was using the thing Y/n held closest to her heart and found the most precious, as a weapon to do harm.

“Y/n! Y/n!” She was thrust back into reality by Cassian’s large hands shaking her back to consciousness. She blinked at him a few times before looking over his shoulder to see Azriel already taking down the other red-headed males and saving another. Lucien. Lucien was on Feyre’s side? Blinking again and trying to remain present, she and Cassian turned to the male holding Feyre. “Now, Y/n.”

With those two words form Cassian, Y/n approached the male, and he had the audacity to laugh at her. Granted, she was still in her house slippers, baggy linen pants and oversized sweater, so she wasn’t looking her most intimidating. But he quickly stopped laughing as Y/n lifted her hands above her head, closed her fists, and threw her hands down to her side. It didn’t take long for the male to realize that he could no longer take a breath. So focused on clawing at his throat, he didn’t notice that his flames had no oxygen to restrain his hostage either. Cassian, being well versed in her magic, ran into the void she’d created, grabbed Feyre, who unfortunately also couldn’t breathe, and got her out of your field of magic. Azriel was there with Lucien in a second, Mor winnowing in to grab Y/n, Cassian, and Feyre.

They landed in the townhouse seconds later, Azriel and Lucien not far behind. Y/n was in her sister’s arms before anyone could blink. They held each other tightly, but Feyre looked over Y/n shoulder to Mor.

“He’s on his way. He’s far away, but he is rushing home to you as fast as he can. He felt the bond and sent us ahead to get you.” Mor was crying too, and Y/n turned to wave her into their hug. Right now, her sister was home and everything else could wait for tomorrow. Even if Y/n couldn't stop thinking about that red haired male on the frozen lake today. the way he laughed at her and made her feel small, and she sucked the air from his lungs like it was nothing. She thought it would have made her feel good. but it didn't, and she wasn't sure why. She would fall asleep picturing his fearful face for many nights.

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#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #autumn court #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris x y/n #eris x reader