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charmedreincarnation · 5 months

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Hey guysss! A lot of people have been asking for me to make a challenge for a while now. I honestly didn’t want to, not because I’m against them or anything but because the law will be different for everyone. Sometimes, it feels like tumblr needs a reminder - you are the only person who knows what you need to do to succeed. I wish I could imprint this realization on everyone's minds. I’ve also gotten so manyyyy asks about things that genuinely just feel like your doubts repeating in your mind constantly so I’m gonna talk abt my beliefs bc y’all are spiraling really hard. I get it you want your desires for Christmas and new years. It’s okay take a breath, you're alive and will be okay.

Firstly: at the beginning I used to spend countless time spiraling into depression, constantly changing my methods every time I saw a new success story, and every time I found a new foolproof' tumblr method. Methods that were supposed to guarantee results in a day so when they didn’t I felt rlly useless. It was annoying, to say the least, and I don’t want to help others do the same thing, but really all I can do is reiterate what I always say and hope you apply it to everything!!

A lot of you guys wanted something that didn’t involve the void state, so that’s what this will revolve around! But feel free to make this void orientated if you desire, and I’ll also add a void section so all my babies can eat!

Ok so you’ve over consumed, you have dropped the void, and now have switched to just assuming and knowing that you would wake up with your dream life - embracing states. Great! At first, it will seem like you're doing nothing but you aren’t! For example, I knew I was dwelling in the state of wish fulfilled when I went to work without shedding tears, when I looked in the mirror and didn't think I was ugly because, well, I'm beautiful! I didn't care abt not performing well on a test because I could revise my past etc. this isn’t to say ignore the 3D: don’t do that, please try and make sure you’re safe and okay. But know life is malleable. Slowly, things that used to bother me—my parents, grades, anxiety, self-deprivation—started to fade away. Even though my dream life hadn't reflected in my 3D yet, I felt the switch. That's when I decided, I know what to do.

I also remember finding this cute website a long time ago that I want to share that summarizes it in such a great and simple way.

So Before I knew or understood what LOA was, I found this gem of an article on I am Love'- "How To Shift Into A State & Stay There". I think I have a post abt it somewhere on my blog but I’m too lazy to find it so here it is again.

Basically it explains that the essence of shifting into a desired state and staying there. What resonated with me was her choice to dwell in the state of knowing that her desires are hers, no matter what.

The way she used colloquial language made the content relatable and easy to understand. It's like having a conversation with a friend who's guiding you through hard concepts with “dumbed down” language because at the beginning states made 0 sense to me.

Posts like this really helped me particularly because when I discovered Neville, it required three attempts on my part to not only intellectually grasp his teachings, but also to truly comprehend him as a whole, given his non-contemporary speaking tbh.

I recommend it if you find yourself stuck or not really grasping the law yet (which is more than okay) but, if you're looking to understand the loa better or just learn more give this article a read.

There’s also a particular quote from Neville that really got me to dive into his work after finding this article and it was- “The being that you really are, descended to the weakness of the flesh, causing you to experience the state you are now in. Contemplate another state, and the same being who brought your present form into being will restore and make alive the other state, the state desired. This he will continue to do until his purpose is fulfilled. That purpose is to follow a certain pattern back into the unity of being. You see, in the beginning we were drafted. We did not volunteer to fall into these states. We were made subject into futility, not willingly but by the will of him who sent us. But when we return we will discover that we are the very being who subjected us. We are now the sons, destined to return as God the Father!”

Now that you understand and are ready to apply state, Here’s a routine I’ve created to hopefully help you guys! It is very simple and not time consuming at all.

Scripting and writing: I love writing and feeling like the author of my own story, literally bringing my creation to life. I would write when I felt like it. Whenever I wanted to dwell in my state, I would simply write, "I have my dream life." It's so simple, yet it embodies everything I need. If you’re more of a picture girl, use Pinterest instead. Or both if you prefer it doesn’t matter.

Edward arts' "I am creator meditation": Again, do this whenever you like it. It's one of the few meditations that didn't bore me to death and seemed to work with my ADHD. I also love reading, so I would read his pdf whenever I felt like it and take mental notes. Reading his work was a reminder I was doing everything right, it resonated with me very well.

During doubt and overstimulation: When things get overwhelming, close your eyes and let the emotions pass. They’re just thoughts! repeat the words "I am" until your heart returns to its normal rhythm. It's a simple yet powerful way to ground yourself amidst the whirlwind of emotions. And guess what? You can use this technique for doubt too! So the next time you're feeling overwhelmed, remember the power of "I am". It's a gentle reminder of your existence, your resilience, and your capability to be whatever you want despairs any emotional turmoil.

Thank god: (yourself!!) When reminded of your desires. Thank you god. When you see your desires, (eg:Pinterest, online or you’re just reminded) thank you god! When you see an image of your desires, thank you god! When you dream or think about your desires. Thank god! Always thank the person fulfilling it aka you ;)! If you’re religious just thank the god you actually follow.

Nightly reflections: At night, ask yourself , "What would I do if I woke up in my dream life right now?" repeat this question throughout the night. Then, imagine whatever scene you want. What would you do if you could not fail? What would you do if you had all the money in the world right now. What if you looked in the mirror and saw the most ethereal being and it’s just you? What about if you woke up in your dream house with your dream family and pets? This is inspired by one of the first shifting methods I created that helped me fulfill my imagination before I knew what that meant. When you’re ready to sleep just remind yourself it is done, and drift off into your desires.

As I've always said, I've been a great daydreamer. I knew exactly what I wanted my life to look and feel like. I envisioned my walk-in closet filled with luxurious outfits, waking up in my dream room on a soft mattress with my pets purring nearby. I saw the decor reflecting my personality in every corner of my large, and pretty room. I imagined walking into my bathroom, seeing all my cool Sephora products lined up for my skincare and shower routine. I love taking care of myself because I know I deserve it. I saw myself looking in the mirror, knowing I'm "that girl" who turns heads wherever she goes.I visualized going downstairs in my boujee dream house,and seeing my family stress-free, smiling, and eating well. I saw plans being made on my phone, my friends were excited to see and talk to me. I went to my kitchen, filled with expensive ingredients ready for me to cook meals for my loved ones - because I love cooking. I saw myself checking my bank account and seeing multiple seven figures in my savings, checking, and investment accounts and opportunities easily presenting myself to make more if I wanted. I saw myself running errands in my car, shopping, getting Starbucks, having expensive lunch with friends, and making a trip to Target. Despite the simplicity of the day, I would come home and be like, "Ugh, what a long day!"like that one khloe kardashian meme. What if all this happened today? Visualize and feel the scenes so clearly that it felt like it's already happening.. not just in your imagination.

Most importantly: Define the law for you! Stop parroting bloggers and intertwine your own beliefs with the law. The only principle of the law is that through persistence assumption will harden into a fact. Other than that anything goes except for facts that are wrong.

Here’s old notes I found in my phone lol just so you know what I mean by define the law for you: ignore the writing I was kinda dumb and new to the law 😭😭

Now this is for my void babies if you made it this far.

Read this post.

This is it copied bc the links are wonky sometimes

“My previous method is based on the persistent assumption, which a lot of people don’t know how to do right and it might take some time even for those who have the right self-concept and the mindset, so today I was in the process of manifesting this method.

And I was successful!

This method is for everyone. It’s the easiest Void method.

Do you know that you get into the Void state at night automatically? At that time the whole perceived world disappears for you. Every single perception and assumption you have disappears while your consciousness in the calm and natural Void state.

Use it to your advantage. Now that you know about the Void that you enter when you sleep, the perfect state to manifest anything that you wish to perceive, with no “resistance”, no illusions of annoying solid things around, you only need to remember your scripted starting point in your DR and practice watching it all coming out of the Void.

Practice that scene with your eyes closed, say to yourself:”That is what I perceive. Next time I’m in the Void, I’ll experience this”. You won’t even need to be fully aware of yourself that way when you get into the Void while you are asleep. Your subconscious would do all the work as it now would have the instruction and a clear image of you expecting it.

Personal experience: as I was receiving information on this method, I almost stepped into my DR! I wasn’t even in the absolute void state, I was only creating the scene for this method and I felt it materialise with my senses!

I have great feeling that it’s going to give fast results for others! Try it, teach your subconscious what it needs to bring forth while in the Void, let it do your work for you!”

Lastly, I’m gonna talk abt my beliefs real quick bc the fear of shifting vs manifesting makes me sad for y’all. I understand you don’t wanna leave behind the people you love and that’s not fear to feel ashamed of having! I personally hate the npc mindset a lot of have people have adopted. The only thing we know for sure is that assumptions create realities, and consciousness is the real reality. Everything else boils down to assumptions, except for principles. For example, shifting is not lucid dreaming, even if you assume it to be. That is the principle. I’m just going to copy what I told my mutal bc I’m lazy and need to finish Christmas stuff 😭😭 but Our imagination and the 4D realm are products of our consciousness, which is indeed real. Our view of reality is shaped by our consciousness, since we can't experience everything all at once.

Unless, of course, you shift into a super omnipotent god. Even then, you’d probably still struggle with the concept of infinity because, well, infinity is infinite. And it’s constantly a never exnding expansion. As humans, we're finite beings, and our understanding of the infinite is naturally limited. Because you can’t and won’t ever experience everything at once, infinity is always expanding. Our awareness can be thought of as fragments of consciousness; it's like being a drop of water in a massive ocean. Even though our perception is limited, the infinite is always there, always existing. We simply adjust our awareness to perceive this infinite reality.

And through our consciousness, we are able to tap into other realities or 'multiverses', which give us a broader understanding of existence. This exploration of consciousness and the multiverse is a significant part of my journey into the world of manifestation.

The law of consciousness explains why, when you "shift" or change your perspective, you don't physically move. It's all about altering your state of awareness. This is also why time doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. You can become aware of any time or day you want, as long as you choose to be aware of it. It's like having a mental time machine. This law is why infinite universes exist. As long as you can be aware of it, you can assume and embody the state of that person. Whether that's someone with a billion dollars on Earth, or a person who lives in the Attack on Titan world, it's all about your awareness.Our awareness is just a fragment of the larger consciousness – hence the idea of the multiverse. Each universe is a different fragment, a different state of awareness. And we have the power to “shift” into any of these states, therefore shifting into any of these universes.

I’m telling you this bc there’s no need to be afraid of manifesting or being in a reality with robotic versions of the people you love. Ariana grande and Marilyn Monroe for example talk about loa without acknowledging it and we see their success. Neville Goddard and his followers saw each other’s manifestions and I manifest for my friends and they mnaifest for me.

Take a deep breath and let go of the tik tok clone mindsets y’all have they don’t exist. You can manifest and assume anything you want in your imagination. Y’all literally want to manifest things like millions of dollars, revising deaths, living in new countries, having immorality in your waiting rooms, and never aging which is all possible of course. So be for real, why assume and know that you can achieve all that, but it won't manifest exactly how you want? I've also wondered about what happens to the "old version" of people when they manifest their dream life. As far as I'm concerned, they dont exist because you choose not to be aware of them.

I really want to talk about this too, as I've received similar questions and, oh my god, I thought I was alone. I've always been a bit delusional and lived in my head, but when I became conscious of the law, did anyone else feel a sense of self-embarrassment? I don't know what that was, but I'd genuinely feel my soul wanting to throw up envisioning my desires that aren't mine, even though I've always been a daydreamer. It's kind of like when you feel you can't have them or it's strange to envision yourself with something you can't have, so you just purge yourself. 😭

I was thinking back to why that happened and laughing at myself because we need to be serious right now. Why are you getting sick by your own mind? Imagine if Van Gogh, anytime he pulled out a canvas and held a brush, was jump-scared by the brush. Picture him holding out the brush and just staring at the canvas crying because "well, the painting is going to suck 😐," "I don't know what to paint☹️☹️," "I already know it won't be like what I envision in my head 😡😡." Like, bro, the canvas is blank, just fucking paint. That’s why I really like his quote that's like...

“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.” So If you’re scared of failing, if you’re scared of your desires, or scared of how it will come to fruition, for that reason alone is more so to and manifest it anyways.

But happy holidays guys! make some tea, scroll through Pinterest, read a good book and watch some Christmas films and remember if you can imagine/think your desires you can embody them bc where are you getting it from??

Here are some helpful documents I have read plus a cute vid I saw on insta reels : (let me know if the links are being weird)

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#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #my asks

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cherryredstars · 8 months

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Hi! I really really love how you write for Simon. Like honestly it is so good. I saw that you're taking regular requests right now, so if it's okay could I request some jealous/insecurity headcanons or a oneshot (any format really) for Simon? Like maybe him and the reader are still working toward being more secure but there's still those moments where there needs to be some reassurance and a bit of comfort.

I just loved your cocky!Simon headcanons and I would love to see the progression of him getting to that point if you know what I mean lol.

Also congrats on 1k!! You deserve it!! I love your blog.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Insecurities, Mentions of Simon’s Trauma, Angst (???) with Comfort

Summary: He just needs a little reassurance sometimes.

A/N: I need to write for Simon more, I miss him!!

Word Count: 1.6K (Edited)

Simon’s been jealous before. Envious being a better word.

He used to be jealous of all the kids who had a loving home to go to. Jealous of peers with perfect parents and perfect siblings. Jealous of all the things he felt like he should have but couldn’t get. But this is a new kind of jealousy, a new insecurity. One so ugly and consuming that he feels particularly shameful of it.

He knows relationships, especially for him, are all about time. Everything is about time. Hell, he spent fucking months trying to come to terms with the fact that he liked you. Spent even more time building up the courage to ask you out on a date and begin a relationship with him. Add on to that the long hiatuses caused by deployment? This whole relationship is a slowly spinning clock.

But he’s here, a newly taken man with the kindest thing on his arm. He should be grateful, and he is grateful! Truely, undoubtedly grateful for the opportunity you have given him. But, he can’t help wanting more. From himself mostly, but also from you. And it frustrates him, frustrates him to no end because he knows he’s the reason why the both of you can’t have more. You have told him countless times, drilling it into his head like a daily affirmation that you’re okay with that. That would wait however long it took for Simon to get the hang of this. To fully comprehend what it means to be yours and how to navigate through it. And he is so blessed to have someone so understanding waiting up on him.

But he sees the difference. Sees the way how natural, how fucking easy it is for you to talk and interact with everyone else. Can see how easy it is for everyone else to interact with you. Things he can’t comfortably do yet. It makes a dark well of hatred form in his stomach because he can't understand why it has to be so hard for him. Why he got the shitty deal of cards, why he got the short end of the stick. He knows, realistically, that it's his fault. So what if his shitty family life and not so glory-filled military career played a part in it? It's still Simon’s own actions at the end of the day.

It’s fucking torture to watch the casual touches everyone lays on you. How easy it is for your friends to playfully shove your shoulder when you tell a joke, how they don’t hesitate to wrap you in a tight hug when you greet them, how they casually rest their chin or head on your shoulder and complain about everything that went wrong today. Fucking hates how confident people are as they try to flirt with you, how they could so easy articulate their attraction towards you in mere minutes when Simon can’t even do it in months. It makes him want to throw himself against a wall until his screwed up head fixes himself.

And you just look so happy. Smiling at your friends and returning the physical touches with ease. Face beaming with joy as you wrap someone in a hug or link their arm with yours. How you just fucking glow at the compliments given to you by your friends or a passing stranger in the street. He wishes so desperately that he could give you that, that he can casually walk into a room and tell you how fucking stunning you look instead of keeping it in his head. Wishes he could casually grab your hand without feeling like his skin was just dipped into a tub of acid. The only thing that keeps him together is your instant dismissal of anyone that tries to flirt with you, a proud look on your face as you say I have a boyfriend.

But he knows that it doesn’t look like it. Not when there is an obvious space between the two of you as you walk together. Not when he doesn’t make a single move to wrap his arm around you in a crowded space so you don’t get separated. He definitely screams boyfriend when he just watches someone come up to you and try to get into your pants instead of marking his claim on you. Safe to say, he doesn’t expect to find a Best Boyfriend Ever mug under the tree during the holidays this year.

He knows it pains you too. Can see it every time you instinctively go to grab him only to stop midway through and you give him a bashful smile. Sees how painfully obvious it is when he comes back from deployment and you and him stand outside the terminal gate awkwardly because you don’t know how to greet him if it isn’t with a tight hug. It’s painted all over your face when the both of you are at a group hangout with friends and you watch with an envious gleam in your eyes how the couples are squished into each other’s sides or sitting in their laps. A sharp pain runs through his chest when he can’t even drape his arm over your shoulders to comfort you. He knows that the small smile you give him when you turn towards him is because you know he won’t, even if he really wants to.

He hates that he can’t give you the simplest of things. Things that are supposed to be so natural in a relationship. Things that were promised to you when he asked you to be his partner. Things that make you so happy. He hates the idea that he’s robbed you of something. That something being a happy and normal relationship. That feeling builds and builds until he’s an insecure mess on your couch as you guys have a movie night.

You’re on opposite sides of the couch, something that makes him want to choke himself out. He’s spread out, arms thrown over the top of the sofa and legs spread. You’re pushed into the arm of the sofa, making sure none of your limbs touch him accidentally. He almost wants to throw up when the actors on screen run into each other’s arms and a small ‘aww’ leaves your lips with a dizzying smile. His hands clench and unclench as the movie ends. You sit up stretching and about to leave for a bathroom break before putting on the next movie when Simon speaks up.

“I’m sorry.”

Your head snaps to him quickly, a confused furrow forming in between your brows. You’re about to open your mouth to question him when he continues, “I’m trying, but…it’s hard.”

It’s not much of a clarification, but you still understand what he’s talking about. A sympathetic smile comes across your face as you approach him. This time, you sit next to him but still not touching him. A tenseness leaves Simon’s body, preferring you close by even if he can’t touch you. You’re fully turned to him, a look of admiration on your face as you study him. The look ignites his soul and that little well of hate dries up the tiniest bit.

“I know you have, and I’m so, so proud of you, Si.” The small tilt of your head and soft smile makes him want to nuzzle his face into your neck and shower you in his own praise. He knows he’s practically glowing from your words, and he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed.

“Still… I know how happy it would make you. Just… please.” He doesn't know when the lump formed in his throat, but he tries to subtly get rid of it.

The way you melt into the couch also makes him melt into the fabric. The two of you study each other for a moment, taking in each other’s presence. Slowly you get up and Simon moves to get up too, a moment of panic running through his veins before it dies away when you grab his empty mug from the coffee table. You give him another soft smile as you hold the cup tightly in your grasp.

“Of course, Simon. Thank you for trying. Thank you for wanting to try for me. That is what makes me happy”

You leave Simon there, excusing yourself to make him more tea and going to the bathroom. He sits and stares at the TV, a new feeling emerging in his chest. It pushes away the insecurity and that hatred and the jealousy. It expands until his own body is buzzy and a puff of air leaves him. Everything feels lighter, brighter now. This feeling is new. One so beautiful and consuming that he feels particularly at peace with it. Love, he thinks. He thinks it might just be love.

So when you come back to sit at his side, mindlessly blowing at the surface of his cup of tea before giving it to him, he lets the tips of his fingers purposely brush over yours. He holds your gaze, making sure you know it wasn’t an accident. A beaming smile forms on your face and he feels a smaller one form on the rim of his mug. He turns away then, sipping on his tea as you look for the next movie to put on.

He doesn’t touch you again that night. But it still made all the difference. That one, singular touch was worth everything.

The next night, he comes back to your apartment and stares down at the new mug that greeted him when he opened the cabinet. His finger rubs against the printed words with a lovesick smile.

Best Boyfriend Ever.

I ♡ Simon Riley mug when???

#ghost call of duty #ghost cod #call of duty #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cherry's requests🍒

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moni-logues · 1 year

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Different Spaces

Pairing: Bangchan x reader

Genre: friends to lovers, smut

Summary: Chan has just returned home from tour and you hope you aren't wrong that something has changed between you. Only one way to find out...

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: one (1) handjob, little bit of cum-eating, that's pretty much ya lot!

AN: YES, she's a MULTI BLOG NOW. And obviously it's Chan. It was always going to be Chan lmaooooo. Anyway, this idea crept into my head last night and then I wrote it today to put off writing something else 😅😅😅 I HOPE YOU ENJOY! It's unbeta'd (except for @minttangerines reading it to make sure it didn't suck lol) so forgive the typos please!!!

ETA: you can now find part two HERE!

*~*~*

It wasn’t weird and it wasn’t uncomfortable. But it was different. It was definitely different this time.

Chan sat in front of you, between your legs, his back against your chest and his head in the soft space between your shoulder and collarbone. You leant against the arm of the sofa with your hands on his stomach-

That was different. You had the hem of his T-shirt between your fingers, toying mindlessly, while your other hand rested on his warm, soft skin beneath it. He had one hand resting over yours, his fingers not exactly entwined with yours, but not exactly not.

You’d held hands before. On occasion. Entirely casually, platonically. Except for the part where you wished it wasn’t casual, wished it wasn’t platonic.

You’d had feelings for Chan for as long as you could remember, since you first set eyes on him. Honestly, you were used to it. Comfortable with it even. You knew you weren’t going to do anything about it and that meant it didn’t worry you. It would be your little secret and you would soak up all the time with him you could, you would enjoy all the friendship privileges he offered you and you would clutch them close to your heart in the absence of any actual body to hold.

It was only before he went away this last time, a couple of months ago, that you felt something change. Something about how clingy he had been the night before he left, a little more tactile than he usually was. He was ants-in-his-pants fidgety and wouldn’t sit still. He was wrestling you into a hug one minute and then pushing you to the other end of the sofa the next. He held you so tightly and for so long when you hugged him goodbye that you had joked it was like he was going off to war. He had laughed only half-heartedly, which, for Chan, might as well have not been laughing at all. He had pulled back and looked at you intensely with his hands still on your waist and you had waited and waited for him to say or do something else but he just kept looking.

“Are you going to like, actually leave?” you had asked.

He snapped out of his trance and ruffled your hair.

“Course I’m going! Why? Trying to get me to stay?”

You weren’t, because you knew he was going to leave, anyway, that he had to go, but he sounded hopeful (or were you imagining it?).

“Yeah. I did consider locking you up for a second, but taking care of one animal is enough; I’m not sure I could cope with having to feed and care for you, too!”

He had done a proper laugh then and you were reassured that whatever had just happened, it was a blip, a glitch, nothing more. He had hugged you one last time, shorter, looser, and then turned to leave with a salute.

Then he was back, hugging you just as hard, fresh off the plane (rather unfresh, actually, and he had the cheek to ask to use your shower!).

And it was the same as it had ever been.

But it was also different. Because he had told you so many times while he was away that he missed you; he had said ‘wish you were here!’ so often that you actually believed it; your gallery was full of ‘found you!’ photos of ugly statues and ‘thought you’d like this’ shots of architecture and souvenirs—souvenirs he’d actually bought and brought home for you. He didn’t usually do that.

And now, there you were, with your hands on his skin and your cheek resting lightly on the top of his head and he was laughing at the film you were watching and taking your hand from the hem of his top, crossing it over his torso and holding it there. He closed his fingers over yours. Holding hands. You flattened your palm over his stomach and stroked sideways, the circle of your arms tighter around him, and you wanted to ask what this meant. Did it mean anything? Had he just been lonely on the road? Did he just want some physical contact? Were you just... there?

You weren’t one to be stuck in indecision. You didn’t have the patience for it. You decided, when you first met, that you weren’t going to act on your feelings because trying to date an idol was an insane thing to do. And you didn’t need the stress.

But you also didn’t need the long, drawn-out stress of a ‘will they? Won't they?’ scenario with one of your closest friends.

And, if you were going to be really honest, you kind of did need a good fuck. And you’d thought about fucking him a lot, one might say too much. And if he was interested, if something had changed and he saw you differently now, well, then the bedroom was calling for you.

“Chan?” you said quietly.

He twisted his head a little.

“Yeah?”

“Can I... touch you?”

You drew your fingers back, softly grazing your nails against his abs. He giggled.

“What do you mean? We already are touching!”

You slipped just the tips of your fingers beneath the waistband of his jogging bottoms and the waistband of his boxers.

“No, I mean... touch you.”

“Oh, sh-… Uh.”

You didn’t move your hand; you felt his heartrate quicken, thumping back against your chest.

“You don’t have to say yes. It’s ok if the answer’s no.”

“Yeah, no,” he said. “I mean, the answer’s yes. It’s ok.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

He swallowed and nodded and put his hand over yours, carefully encouraging it lower.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

His hand left yours as it disappeared beneath the fabric of his clothes and you couldn't breathe as your fingers ran over the velvet skin of his soft cock, which twitched on contact. As you pushed his trousers and his boxers down, you almost couldn’t look, couldn’t bear the thought of disappointment, after all this waiting, after every fantasy, but you needn’t have worried. Of course, it was fucking perfect. Just like the rest of him. You wrapped your fingers around his semi-hard length and he shifted.

“You don’-” Then he hesitated.

“Don’t what?”

“Uh, you don’t have to be gentle...”

Then he wrapped his fingers around yours, squeezed a little tighter, and your thighs squeezed, too. You chuckled, a little embarrassed, a little shy actually, a little over-awed.

“Channie likes it rough, huh?”

You didn’t need to see his face to know he was blushing; you could feel the heat radiate from his cheeks.

“Um, well, uh-”

He was stammering now and you were amazed that he could be bashful with his cock in your hand, shy even though he was directing you.

“I like it,” you whispered and you felt a shiver go through him.

He kept his hand over yours and you smiled to yourself because you should have expected this. Control freak Chan, perfectionist Chan, Mr ‘I’ll just do it myself’ Bang. It was cute. But you weren’t going to let him get away with it. You let him control you, let him show you how he liked it, let him get himself to the point where his breathing was heavy and his bottom lip was bitten between his teeth and his brows were furrowed.

“Hey,” said, nudging his head with yours. “Who exactly is giving this handjob? You want me to just leave you to it or...?”

He spluttered and stopped and immediately let your hand go.

“Sorry, I-”

“You don’t have to apologise; I know you. But I want to do this for you, y’know?” You turned your head and gently bit the top of his ear before pressing a kiss to it.

“Yeah, got it. All yours.”

“Thank you.”

You had him panting again in seconds, because he had already given you his secrets, and when he tipped his head backwards and whined, it made your cunt pulse.

“Ok, you’re right, you’re right,” he gasped. “This is better. Fuck... Oh shit.”

He was moving like he couldn’t help himself, his hips snapping up, fucking himself in your fist and you could feel his thighs twitching, feel the tension coiling in his body.

It was building in you, too, as you soaked through your underwear. He wasn’t quiet and every moan, every grunt, every gasp of your name made your head spin. You hoped it wouldn’t stop here. After all this time, something was finally happening and you needed it to keep happening, you needed him to feel you, too. A moan fell from your own mouth as you imagined him fucking you, imagined that it wasn’t your hand around his cock but your cunt. That he liked it even rougher when he was inside you. That the deep black intensity he had inside him came out. That he fucked you like he danced, with every inch of his body and every ounce of strength.

“I’m-.. I’m-…"

You didn’t need him to tell you.

“I know, babe. Go on, make a mess. Make a mess for me.”

With a shudder and a cry trapped low in his throat, he came, over your hand, over your fingers, over his stomach and his T-shirt. He was gulping in air with his eyes closed and a hand clenching and unclenching at his side.

“Oh, shit,” you whispered as you swiped a finger through the mess on his skin. “Who’s going to clean all this up?”

You raised your hand and brought it almost to your own mouth, then pretended to think twice before pressing down on his bottom lip. It was a bold move, you knew, but you were feeling emboldened.

Then he opened his mouth and took your cum-sticky fingers in without a second’s hesitation. Would the night’s surprises never end? He licked your fingers clean and ran his tongue over your palm before he swiped his finger through the mess on his stomach and lifted it to your lips. You laughed.

“I can do you one better.”

You shuffled and climbed out from behind him, pushing him down and straddling him. It was the first time you had been face to face; you both blushed when your eyes met and you couldn’t stop the giggle that rose in your throat. He giggled back and you recognised that you were on the verge of hysteria; if you let that giggle become a laugh, it wouldn’t stop until you were both crying. You tried to rein it in, this strange, self-conscious shyness that was gripping you, this wild giddiness that made you want to scream with laughter and cry ‘I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!’. You were looking at Chan and you knew he felt it, too; his eyes glittered and then all but disappeared as his smile widened. He bit his lip to try to keep it in, but it was no use.

He snorted and covered his face with his hands as a loud laugh bellowed forth. You never could resist his mirth. You were helpless to it at the best of times. He was curling over, his whole body shaking, and you were climbing off him, flopping to the floor, weak with it, the laughter sapping your strength and overriding any capacity for being serious. It was too absurd. That this had just happened. That one day—one moment—you were friends and the next you were making him come over himself, that he was licking his own cum from your fingers. That you had wanted this for such a long time and sworn off it. That you had no idea it might be something he wanted. That you never even thought to ask! That it could have been this easy? All this time?

Your brain was elsewhere as your breath shuddered and tears streaked your cheeks. You thought you had got yourself under control: your breathing was shaky and your stomach hurt but your eyes were dry and you sat yourself up. Then you looked at Chan, face also tear-streaked, flushed with glee, and you both collapsed again.

“Don’t look at me,” Chan said, his voice thick and wobbly with laugher some minutes later. “Don’t look at me, please, I can’t laugh anymore, but can you get me a fucking tissue or something?”

You shut your eyes, scrunched your face, and pressed your fist to the bridge of your nose; you couldn’t laugh anymore, it would kill you. But you knew that if you turned to look at him, helpless and messy on his back, that another fit would catch you. You crawled to the end table and threw the box of tissues in his direction.

“Thanks.”

You leant back against the edge of the sofa and let your breath resume its normal rhythm, let your heart slow down, let Chan wipe himself up and tuck himself away. You felt him sit up as his knee knocked your shoulder and you turned so you could just see him out of the corner of your eye. He looked down at his cum-stained T-shirt and gingerly pulled it over his head. Then he looked at it, displeased.

“This was clean on like, an hour ago.”

“Oh, shit, sorry, dude. You want me to take the handy back or something?”

He looked alarmed for a second.

“Do you want to take it back?”

“No.”

“Good, neither do I.”

“I would kind of like to know where the fuck it came from though.”

“What are you talking about? You started it! You offered!”

“Chan, you were holding my hand. We don’t hold hands! Look at all this shit you bought me!” You gestured broadly to giftbags and boxes, trinkets and jewellery on the coffee table. “Besides, I’ve always wanted it; you haven’t.”

He stared at you, mute, looking like you’d just asked him a long division question.

“You always wanted it?”

“Yep.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“Because you didn’t want it!”

“How would you know?! You never asked!”

“Ok, well, did you?”

He looked up; he looked down. He looked thoughtful. He looked a little apologetic.

“I don’t really know,” was his eventual answer.

“Well, there you go. That’s why I didn’t say.”

Silence reigned and you didn’t want this to collapse, to fizzle into awkwardness.

“Do you want it? Now?” you asked.

“Yeah.” At least he sounded sure about that.

“What changed?”

When he looked at you and caught your eyes, there was a look there you hadn’t seen in them before. It was almost painfully soft, tender in a way that pierced your heart. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at you like he was looking at something precious, something sweet. Then he shrugged.

“I’ve never been away from you that long before.”

“And?”

“I didn’t want to be. It made me not want to go at all. And I couldn’t work out why it mattered so much. I’ve been away before. I’ve been here, even, and just been busy and not seen you for a while. But it felt different this time, somehow. I really didn’t want to go. And I talked about it and everyone told me I was like, the world’s biggest idiot. They all apparently thought—or knew?—I had feelings for you already and they all just said ‘tell her! You’ve got to tell her! Go for it!’ and I wanted to. I was going to, the night before I left, but then I realised I’d be confessing all that stuff and then just... fucking off. I didn’t want to do that. So, I... did nothing, I guess.”

“Fair enough.”

“You wanted it all this time? Me, you wanted me?”

That he even had to ask was adorable, broke your heart a little. Who wouldn’t want him? He was everything you could have asked for and more; he ticked every box; he made your sad little heart sing like a songbird. And he still had to ask.

“Since the moment we met.”

“Shit.”

“I had no idea.”

He looked like he meant it, too: a little dazed, a little confused, just a hint of wonder on his face.

“So, what now?” he asked.

You shrugged.

“You mean right now, or general future ‘now’?”

“I guess both?”

“Can I be honest?”

“Yeah.”

“Right now, I would really like to do something about how badly I want to fuck you.��

And he was bashful Chan, again, his eyes wide and the tips of his ears pink, his mouth slightly open with surprise. You watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he swallowed.

“I... am amenable to that.”

“Want to try that again with something even slightly sexy?”

And he blushed bright, covering his face with his hands.

“Fuck, ok, give me a second.”

You laughed and moved from the floor to sit opposite him on the sofa, your knees touching. You waited patiently for a second or two, then tapped his leg.

“I’m flustered, ok!” he cried. “You’ve got me all... flustered. I don’t know... I-.. Agh. I swear I’m not this bad usually. I promise. I just--… this has really taken me off-guard! Fuck, I didn’t know. I-”

You interrupted him to climb into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. He lifted his face to yours and you kissed him, just a light peck on his petal pink lips.

“How about you let me lead, then?” you asked, your voice soft and low. “Can you do that? Can you let me take control?”

He looked at you pleadingly, his eyes round and wide, and you were worried that it meant no, that he was going to say he didn’t want that.

“Yes, please.”

Fuck.

With your hands on either side of his face, you pulled him closer and kissed him again, deep this time, deep and slow and breathless. He tasted of honey butter chips, which you had never liked before that moment. His tongue rolled with yours, soft and sweet and every bit as good as you had imagined. He whined quietly, just barely, when you pulled back, when you sank your teeth into the plush pink of his lower lip. When you looked at each other, nose-to-nose, his eyes were wide again, sparkling and bright and looking at you like you were the whole world.

It wasn’t weird and it wasn’t uncomfortable and it wasn’t awkward; it didn’t feel like crossing a line or pushing a boundary; it felt like you should have been doing this all along. It was different for the two of you, sure, it was different. But you’d been ready for this change since you learnt his name, since he held his hand out to you and smiled politely. This different was good. This different was everything you’d ever wanted.

#bangchan x reader #chan x reader #bangchan smut #bangchan fic #chan smut #chan fic #skz fic #skz x reader #skz smut

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rainylana · 2 years

Text

“Looks like I’m going to prom.”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: he doesn’t want to go. he thinks you don’t either, until he catches you staring off into the distance with that look in your eye.

warnings: so much damn fluff you have to read it in small amounts or you’ll fall dead over. language, smoking, reader is lowkey rude af and a carbon copy of eddie lmao. clueless eddie for the first half, but he gets so damn cute it’s almost prison worthy. reader is described with curly hair, some stereotypical descriptions about females?? smut, oral (female receiving), praising, fingering, slight decrophylia. also you might be a bit confused if you haven’t watched back to the future lol. it’s so mf cute istg.

taglist!

@ariesl0ves3ddiemuns0n @eddiemania @eddiemunnson @lillianofliterature @supercalifragilisticprincess @delilahtaylorsverson @cosmic-lavender @kaqua @ches-86 @ultimate-sdmn-trash @chaos-incorp @hearts4laura @aa-li-yxh @noturmom15 @lexthemess21 @underthebatcape @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @your-starless-eyes-remain @avobabe87 @kellysimagines @bellasfavoritesweatpants @mic429 @averysblog @antigoneidk @catherinnn @getbillzoned @phantomxoxo @no0neknowsm3 @flowers-and-tsukki @ahzysauce @imangy @softyutae @rovckwells @ohlovelyhollow @tessiemessie @xx-hospitalforsouls-xx-blog @tripthlightfantastic @blowing-mikey @livasaurasrex @imdoingbetternow @nothisispatric @imabadarsebard @fionnthebandersnacc @justaproudslytherpuff @heeyitsg @genuine-possum @fvcking-gxddess @kneelforloki @actuallybarb @itiscj

Sometimes Eddie forgot you were a girl. Well, not literally. He definitely knew you were a girl when it came to the bedroom. But you were so different compared to the other girls of Hawkins high. That’s why he was dating you. You were like an exact carbon copy of him.

That first day of sophomore year was the best day of his life, watching you confidently shove your way through the storms of people.

“Holy shit. Who the fuck is that?”

Your dressed exactly like him. Hell, you looked like him too, with your wild, untamed curls and whimsical eyes. You listened to the same music as he did, and every day you showed up wearing some ripped up band t-shirt. You were seen as a freak just as much as he was, and you were the proud mascot of the hellfire club.

It hadn’t taken you long before you and Eddie first hooked up. You weren’t a relationship person, well hadn’t been before at least, but Eddie was…he was the love of your life.

You had the dirtiest attitude. Your sarcasm off buttons had been broken years ago, and god forbids anyone cross you, or Eddie or any of the hellfire members. You’d been suspended three times for breaking out into fights, all of them defending your lovers honor.

Honestly, you were a bitch. You were rude and disrespectful. But Eddie was head over heels in love with you, and treated you like an absolute goddess.

That being said, he often forgot you were a lady, because you most certainly did not act like a lady.

For example, you’d been having a movie night, and just so happened to be on your period, and he’d caught you crying out of the corner of his eye while watching E.T. He was so shocked by the sight he didn’t even say anything.

You didn’t wear make up, but you had to wear mascara. You couldn’t go a day without it, saying you looked “fucking ugly” without it. He always watched in awe when you’d put it on, and you’d kick him in shin playfully when you caught him staring.

You had a stuffed teddy bear that you held on to since child hood. You didn’t sleep with it much, just sat on display, but it always freaked him out when he’d wake up in the middle of the night with the bear staring at him and tucked between your arms.

And very, very rarely on occasion, you’d ask him how you looked nonchalantly, standing in the mirror. You usually never gave a shit about your appearance, so it always shocked him when he seen a sliver of insecurities seep through.

None of these things were a big deal and he knew that, but he forgot that you weren’t anything but a carefree metalhead like himself and had feelings.

“So, I’m sittin’, right? Trying my best not to blow my brains out, but the bitch just keeps talking and talking, and I’m like “christ, Carver, nobody gives a fuck!” So of course the pussy had to snitch on me again! Now I got fucking detention again.” Your head was in Eddie’s lap, your feet dangling off the edge of the school picnic table.

It was a sunny day out, so the hellfire club decided to spend their lunch hour outside by their normal spot. You’d been ranting for the past five minutes about you wished for a cruel, horrible death to fall upon Hawkins favorite golden boy.

“Isn’t that your second time this week?” Dustin said with a mouthful, sitting cross legged on the ground as he ate his lunch.

“Third, actually.” Eddie exhaled smoke, tapping the tip of his cigarette away from your face. “My baby’s tryna’ beat her record.” He smirked down at you, making everyone chuckle as he tapped your nose.

You swatted his hand away, scrunching your nose. “Well, I can’t help it I’m better than everyone else. They just don’t want to hear it.”

“One of these days Jason is gonna knock you on your ass.” Mike retorted, arms crossed as he leaned against the tree.

“Whoa.” Eddie exclaimed, eyes widening slightly. “Got a death wish today, Wheeler?”

“I fuckin’ dare him to swing at me.” You sat up on your elbows, parting your lips as Eddie pushed the cigarette between them. “It’ll be his last day on Earth.” You mumbled, taking a puff.

“I can’t wait to see that.” Gareth sent Eddie a sly smile, passing him his bag of pretzels.

“It’ll probably be any day now if you don’t watch that mouth of yours, sweetheart.” His hand went down to your thigh, and you cocked your head to blow smoke in his face.

“You know I can’t do that.”

He coughed shortly, nodding. “Yeah, I know.”

You both gave each other that love sickening stare that made your lips curl into a smirk, and you gave him a kiss on the lips, puckering up with a loud muah sound.

“You guys hear about the prom theme this year?” Dustin fished through his backpack.

“Why do you think we would give a shit about that, Henderson?” Eddie rolled his eyes, thumb rubbing your forehead as you laid back down with your head in his lap.

“Yeah, well, El is dragging Mike and Lucas wants to take Max, so I’m hoping I can take Susie.” He smiled tooth fully, handing Eddie the flyer.

You sat up, elbows on his lap as you peered over the paper. “Enchantment under the sea, huh?” He raised a brow. “I take it whoever came up with the title is a Back to the future fan.”

Everyone laughed, you did too, but your fingers etched up to take it from his grasp so you could investigate it further. The paper was pale blue, fish and sea life drawn on the paper with big, bold lettering. For some reason, you couldn’t put it down. The bright colors invited you in, and you brought up a nail to bite, drowning out the boys.

Back to the future was one of your favorite movies. You laughed through the entire thing when you saw it in the theater with Eddie and Gareth. You weren’t typically a fan of cliché romance movies, but the prom scenes between Marty and Lorraine, as weird as it was for being his mother, was enjoyable. Watching George and Lorraine fall and love and wind up together at the end made your heart swell.

As cringy as it was, Eddie was your George.

“Y/n!”

You jumped slightly, dropping the paper from your hand. “What?” You snapped, heart racing as you crashed back down to reality. Everyone’s eyes were on you.

“I said, did you get the biology answers?” Eddie narrowed his eyes at your quietness, tucking a cigarette behind his ear for later. “We got class in a few minutes.”

You hazily nodded, groaning as you sat up from his lap. “It’s in my locker. Be back in a sec’.”

He watched you step over Mike’s torso, purposely stepping on his fingers and making the boy cry out. He didn’t laugh, thinking about that look he’d watch stir up in your eye, a look he barely ever saw. Damnit.

You wanted to go to prom.

He did not want to go. He despised the idea. There were about a million other things he’d rather do. Hell, maybe even do the biology homework for himself. But, you held his heart. You loved him like no other, made him feel wanted and special. So, whatever you wanted, he made sure to give you.

“Son of a bitch.” He rolled his eyes with a groan.

Everyone looked to their dungeon master. “What’s the matter?” Dustin asked.

He watched you disappear into the school, giving the finger to Jason and his friends who hung out by the bleachers. You wanted to go to..to prom.

He sighed heavily. “Looks like I’m going to prom.”

•

“So like here’s my dilemma, okay? Y/n wants to go to prom. To prom! Weird, right? So listen…I don’t..well, I don’t know what to do. I don’t wanna go. I thought she didn’t either! I swear, she’s gonna give me gray hair before I’m thirty. But like…I can tell she really wants to go. She keeps watching Back to the Future every night before we go to bed and every time someone starts talking about it she just gets this..this look in her eye! And it’s..god, it’s cute. It’s like, really cute. So obviously I’m gonna take her! But what do I do? Should I ask her? Surprise her? I don’t-”

“Do you plan on ever letting me speak, Ed?” Wayne rubbed his temples, leaning against the kitchen sink as Eddie ranted and paced away.

It had been a week since the news of the upcoming prom had been announced, and he couldn’t seem to work through any of his thoughts. He didn’t want to disappoint, so as much as he hated it, he wanted to make it right, however that may be.

“Oh.” Eddie deadpanned, swallowing awkwardly. “Sorry. It’s just…well, I’m nervous. I don’t do the prom thing.”

“I know you don’t.” Wayne nodded, adjusting the hat on his head. “But you didn’t do girlfriends, either, remember? I’d say you and y/n are doing pretty well, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re great.” He pushed out a breath, smiling at the thought of you as he sat down on his uncle’s pull out couch. “She’s..she’s amazing. She makes me so happy.”

“Well, see?” He pointed. “That worked out. I’m sure prom won’t be that much harder.”

“Yeah, but prom is so…girly.” Eddie cringed, shaking his shoulders in disgust. “Y/n is not girly.”

“She is a girl though, bud.” Wayne chuckled, taking a sip of his beer. “Did you forget?”

His eyes bulged out of his skull. “Oh, god no. She’s so…so hot and the things she does with her hands I-”

“I don’t need to hear any of that.”

Eddie clamped his mouth shut as he seen his Uncle go uncomfortably, and he chuckled under his breath. “Right. Sorry.”

He ran his ringed hands through his mane of dark curls, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. His knee started bouncing, and he cursed under his breath.

“Come on, kiddo, don’t freak out.” He noticed his nephews state, pushing himself off the counter to sit beside him, patting his shoulder. “Don’t think of it as…prom. Just a regular date.”

Eddie pushed out an exasperated breath, eyes red and narrowed as he stared at the wall. “She overwhelms me sometimes, Uncle Wayne. I never would of thought I’d ever consider going…but she wants to go so bad and I just want to make her happy. It scares me how much I…how much I love her, you know?”

It warmed Wayne’s heart to hear him sound so passionate about something besides Dungeon and Dragons, and he loved you for it. You had a dirty attitude that matched his nephew’s to a t’, but you were undeniably good for him.

“You sound like your daddy when you talk like that,” Wayne sighed softly, grasping his chin in hand. “He got that way when he talked about your momma.”

Eddie stiffened beside him, squeezing his hands into fists. “I don’t wanna hear about that.”

“I know you don’t.” Wayne grasped his beer bottle. “But it’s the truth.”

“I’m not like my old man.” Eddie said gruffly, a scowl on his lips at the mention of his father. The only one who could bring him up was his uncle. His friend, including you, knew that it was off limits.

“Sometimes you are.” Wayne pressed, turning to look at his nephew. “But you got your momma’s heart. That’s why you wanna take y/n to prom. Because you’re a good person.”

His heart ached at the mentions of his mother, the woman he could barely remember, and sighed deeply. “I just don’t want to disappoint her. She means everything to me.”

He grasped his nephew’s shoulder. “You won’t, Ed. Just be yourself. It’s worked this long, don’t ya think?”

That was true. If he was ever going to scare you away, he would of thought you would of left a long, long time ago.

•

All you ever heard was talk talk talk about that damn prom. Yay fucking hooray. You couldn’t understand it, but every time someone mentioned it, you got pissed off, uncomfortable even, like you didn’t want to hear about it.

Well, you knew why you felt that why, after all, it wasn’t rocket science. You wanted to go, and you cursed yourself at the thought. It wasn’t your scene. It wasn’t Eddie’s scenes. But that didn’t seem to matter. As much as you liked to pretend you were a stone cold, emotionless robot, you loved Eddie with your entire being and soul, and damnit, you wanted to go to prom with him. It went against all social gatherings that you believed in, but you guess that none of those things mattered in this equation.

Boyfriends took their girlfriends to prom. Boyfriends who loved their girlfriends took them to prom. You knew Eddie loved you, so was it a crime to want him to take you?

Well, you figured it wouldn’t matter soon anyways, because prom was only in a matter of hours, being that night, and you were on your way home from another shit day at work. When you pulled into the drive of your shared home, you narrowed your eyes at the darkness of the windows. His van was there, but it looked like nobody was home. No way in hell had his ass went to bed yet.

You exited your truck and trotted up the porch, taking out your key and unlocking the door. You were met with darkness, hand searching the wall for a light switch. You flipped it on when you found it, scanning the rooms, but no Eddie.

“If you’re trying to scare me again, Eddie, I swear I’m gonna feed your balls to Max’s dog!” You tossed your keys on the cabinet, taking weary steps into the kitchen. There was only so many places he could hide. You flipped on the light to the bedroom. No Eddie.

But there was something that caught your eye.

On your bed, was a dress, a very familiar looking dress. Your eyes widened slightly, approaching it with slow steps, fingers reaching out to lift it up to the length of your shoulders. It was pink…but not pink, almost a nude, really. That’s why you liked it so much. It was delicate, and not overly eccentric, with a low neckline and soft fabric at the top. It was almost an exact lookalike of Lorraine’s prom dress from Back to the Future.

“What the-” You gasped confused, stepping back to look back down at the bed. There was a piece of paper folded in half, and you bent down quickly to pick it up.

Prom?

Your stone cold heart seemed to triple in size.

“What do you say, Mcfly?” You jumped and whirled around, curls bouncing on your shoulders, and dear god, your eyes fucking tripled in size.

He was leaning against the doorway, wearing a goddamn suit. Eddie Munson was wearing a goddamn tuxedo.

His dark curls fell over his broad shoulders, a black bow tie just bellows his neck that had obviously been fiddled with several times. He had shiny, leather shoes on, his lips decorated in a sly smirk.

Your words had been completely stollen from you, and your lips parted without sound as your eyes narrowed and widened all at once. “You- I…this dress it’s-”

“Yeah, I know.” He laughed, shrugging his shoulders. “How can I not know? You’ve been watching the movie everyday for the past week, sweetheart. You’re not very subtle like you pretend to be.” He pushed himself off the wall, taking your hands in his.

It almost embarrassed you that he knew you had wanted to go, made your feel weak, but that feeling slipped away and couldn’t help but be replaced by joy. Your face turned red, and the biggest smile spread across your face as you but your lip, holding out the dress for you to see. “God, Eddie, this is…you look so good, jesus christ.” You exhaled, stepping back to examine him again.

He batted his lashes and held his arms out. “I better! This is a damn tux, you know? Only classy men where this, honey.”

You laughed and nodded. “Well, you definitely look it.” You let out a sharp breath, feeling overwhelmed again as you squeezed the dress in hand. “How did you…Jesus, how did you find this?”

“I had a…a friend of Wayne’s make it. She’s a seamstress next town over. Went to school together.” He pushed back his hair, growing slightly nervous at the look on your face. “So whatta’ ya’ say? Makin’ me nervous here, sweat pea.” He chuckled, nudging your elbow.

Honestly, you wanted to scream into a pillow, jump off the Empire State building, and arm wrestle with a goddamn gorilla.

“Hell, yeah!” You beamed, making him flinch unexpectedly, the both of you bursting into laughter. “God, Eddie… this is..I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you would-” Your jaw fell slack suddenly at a loss of words, eyes narrowing into slits when you caught something out of the corner of your eye, or more so, the lack of something.

Eddie’s guitar was not against his mirror.

It was never not there. Only when he was playing it, of course. And that was when it hit you.

His eyes followed yours and he turned pink, hoping you wouldn’t bring it up, but he was always in the dark when it came to you.

“How did you get…” Your eyes did not leave the blank space, voice steady and slow as you pointed. The money. How did he get the money?

You didn’t need to ask.

“You sold it, didn’t you?” Your voice was almost dead silent, eyes glancing up at him.

He swallowed and shrugged nonchalantly. “Just a guitar.

It was not just a guitar. Your eyes dropped heavily as you sighed, shoulders defeating. “Eddie…Eddie, why?”

“Hey,” He grabbed your elbow. “Don’t worry bout it, kay? I don’t want you to worry about how I paid for it. That’s my business.” He tried to reassure you. eyes soft and brown like your curls.

“But Eddie,” You placed down the dress, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s just a dress. You didn’t need to..Eddie, you can’t. Please, take it-”

“Don’t you dare.” He said sternly, cutting you off. “You deserve nice things, y/n, as much as you pretend you don’t. I want you to wear this, and I know you want to, so you’re gonna wear it, you understand?”

It was rare that he left you speechless, and his figure in front of you blurred with tears. You quickly turned around to hide, staring down at the dress. Your lips pulled down in an overwhelming frown. “I don’t..I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” His hands wrapped around your torso, chin resting on your shoulder and curls brushing against your own. “I just wanna see you in this pretty dress, okay? That’s all.” He kissed your cheek.

Your heart was racing from how overjoyed and overwhelmed you felt, and you quickly turned around to wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. “But you love her.” Your voice cracked, squeezing him tight.

His hand stroked your hair. “I love you more, baby.”

You hugged him so tight you almost inhaled him, trying your best to not break down and cry. “You really wanna take me to prom?” You said meekly. You sounded so…small.

“More than anything.” He whispered into your ear.

You weren’t good at dealing with these kinds of emotions, and Eddie rarely ever saw them. So you did what you were best at. You leaned up and kissed. Your lips melted up on his, hand reaching up to tangle in his hair. He groaned into your mouth, hand cupping the back of your neck as your foreheads pressed together.

“What do you say, Mcfly?” He breathed against you, slowly inching back to the bed. His tongue licked your bottom lip, asking for permission.

“I say,” You parted your lips, lips tangling once again in a heat of passion. “Take me to prom, Doc.”

He collapsed atop of you on the bed, and your knees parted so he could rest between your thighs. His hands grabbed yours and held them tightly, noses pressing against the other as hot, pink lips sucked and pulled at your own. You wrapped your legs around his waist, bucking your hips into his strained jeans from his erection.

His hand cupped your cheek, and he pulled away to see your shiny tears. “Hey,” He panted, wiping them away. “No crying on prom night.”

Your head rested perfectly on the pillows, and you gulped as his hair tickled your ear. “It scares me how much I love you. You scare me.”

He chuckled at your response, hand going down your stomach. You were wearing your work uniform, which was a waitressing dress, leaving him extremely easy access to your pussy. “You scare the shit outta me too, babe.”

He tapped your nose playfully as he scooted down the bed, gripping your thighs with his large, ringed palms. “Now, we’re not gonna be cryin’ no sad tears, you hear?” He looked up through his lashes, smirking slightly as he pushed your legs up over his shoulders. “Only crying you’re gonna be doing is from me kissin’ this pretty pussy.”

You gasped when his head disappeared under the slit of your uniform, lips attaching to your cotton panties and placing a kiss to your clothed clit. Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair. “Oh, god,” You sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “God, you’re- you’re so good to me, Eddie.”

His fingers snapped the band of your panties against your skin, nose rubbing against your clit. “I know.” He said cockily, fingers slipping past your panties to poke at your entrance, nose still playing with your bud. “Be a good girl and relax for me, okay? Want you to feel good before we go dancin’.”

Your jaw fell slack when two of his fingers slowly entered your, pushing in and out at a gentle pace as you adjusted to the feeling. His nose made circles around your clit, still covered in your white cotton panties. “Oh, fuck,” Your legs quivered, his callused fingers moving faster, deeper inside of your heat that sucked him deep up into you.

You rocked against his face, stomach burning and eyes blurring with pleasurable tears. The tip of his nose stroked up and down, side to side, pressing and poking, making white hot strikes of pleasure send off tremors through your body.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He mumbled against you, rings pushing into your core that shined brighter from your wetness. “Can’t wait to see you in your new dress. My pretty little Lorraine.”

You leaned up to pull him closer, moaning and gasping, whimpering for more. “Oh, god! God, Eddie, I’m gonna- fuck, fuck,”

He pushed faster and faster, the sound of squelching loud over your cries. He pressed his nose hard into your clit, pushing his face into you to add pressure. You sobbed as you clenched around his fingers, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you spasmed sharply, and he curled his long, slender fingers inside of you, helping you ride the wave as he groaned against your thigh.

Tears fell down your face as you fell back on the bed, mouth fallen slack as you panted. His fingers slowly pulled out, panties snapping back into place. His lips were shining in your arousal, and he smiled ear to ear.

“Ready to go dancing, Mcfly?”

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie the banished #eddie the freak munson #eddie the brave #eddie munson smut #eddie munson series #eddie

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josephponiatowski · 2 months

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Dzień dobry!

I’d like to thank 104 people who follow this blog. I thought my Pepi drawings would bring a lot less attention (I thought I would have only 5 followers honestly…)

Ohh and happy Easter! (I’m so sorry I’m late 😭)

Anyways, enjoy random and fresh Marshal Pepi content my dear little Pepis:

…I hate the last one it looks ugly >:(

I’ll probably be gone again for a long time, because school is ruining my life (average life of a technikum student 🥲)… but I’ll try to stay as active as I can.

Bye bye for now!

#drawing #napoleonic era #polish history #poniatowski #duchyofwarsaw #jozef poniatowski #księstwowarszawskie #sketch #józef poniatowski #józefponiatowski #napoleon’s marshals #napoleonic wars #duché de varsovie #lazy art #traditional art

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lastoneout · 4 months

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Okay I'm finally sitting down to properly watch the PJO series so here's an episode-by-episode live blog I guess. (Fair warning, I haven't read the books since I was a teenager, I am a smidge of an apologist for the films, and my favorite adaptation so far has been the musical.)

Episode One:

All of the actors are doing a really good job, I especially like Sally.

The costume design for both the monsters and the humans is pretty killer. I want Percy's sweater.

I also love the little seaside cabin and want to live there!!!

This is such a mild gripe BUT as someone with dyslexia I wish there was a better way to visually depict it without like, doing the swapping letters thing cuz that's just not what it's actually like at all.

Gabe maybe feels a little too funny. Like I'm supposed to hate him and think it's justified that he deserves to be turned into stone at the end, this version of him is really.....toned down, and his banter with Percy and Sally was fun to watch. I should hate him, but really he just came across as unpleasant. Less abusive asshole and more "old married couple who share interests but can't communicate without shouting" you know?

Loved Grover's little "I'm 24 actually" lmao that was great.

Not a fan of Percy immediately recognizing the Minotaur within a millisecond of it appearing before the audience even got a good look at it. Like, I just sat there thinking "how can he even see it?" rather than feeling scared of a big monster barreling at them.

The action is uh....fine? Feels a little lackluster. Or kinda....divorced from the rest of the show weirdly?? Idk it makes me feel like I'm watching a movie of a movie if that makes sense?? But we'll see where they go with it. (I know banter during a fight isn't realistic and people make fun of Marvel for it, but like...it helps to have at least a little talking. We don't wanna be Man of Steel.)

I feel like there's been a few "slightly out of sync ADR" moments but they weren't too distracting.

Pacing into Sally saying goodbye felt a little long, kinda took the shock of her dying out of the scene, but the actress REALLY sold all the emotional beats so I'll forgive it.

I LOVE the credits sequence!!! Reminds me of the designs on that one box set of the books in a really cool way.

Episode Two:

Oh yes the ugly ass neon orange shirts are here bless!

FUCK YES THAT'S DIONYSUS BAYBEEE!! My ONLY note is that he def could have turned up the energy a little, but that's probably just bcs I love how loud and unpleasant he is in the musical and I also know how unhinged this actor can be.

Chiron is such a delight <3

I like the cabins too, way better than how I imagined them as a kid reading the books lol

Oh, I can see why the new fans fell for Luke so hard.

Grover assuming a human being squished would be like an old banana is very funny. Felt very book-humor in a good way.

Clarisse!!

Oh damn actual disabled half-bloods, very cool!

Minor but I can't actually tell what Percy did wrong with the bow? Weird editing I guess.

Aside from that I actually love a good "fuck up" montage, I honestly wish it were a little longer.

Probably doesn't matter but I don't get having them burn the food after they've started eating? I thought that was a before you sit down type thing.

Percy burning the blue candy to try to talk to his mom was sweet tho T_T

"real friends" hahahaha.....yeah.......about Luke.......

yay! hazing!

Oh I love Annabeth already >:D

Thalia.....is pronounced differently than I thought....?

(I'm sorry I'm too much of a fan of 'Tree on the Hill' for this exposition dump. That shit hits harder when coming from Grover.)

Percy giving Annabeth the "actually I suck and my self esteem is riding on this so like pls don't ask me to do anything hard T_T" talk is just, so good lmao

ofc he doesn't know what's going on Annabeth you didn't tell him anything

Okay the action is a lot better when it's between the actual characters and doesn't involve a 3D monster, though I still had trouble following all the hits Percy was taking.

Oooh I can see why people did so much art of Percy being claimed that was a good shot.

FUCK YEAH TELL HIM YOU'RE SALLY JACKSON'S SON

(I hope they kept the Oracle in the attic...)

Okay I have to go do some things and then I'll be back for more!

#long post #loo watches pjo #pjo spoilers

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corpsekiller · 2 years

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𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝, 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 — 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. mammon x genderneutral!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. fluff, language, implied best friends to lovers, protective!reader, this is honestly pure asmodeus slander and i stand by that

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. you’re tired of mammon’s brothers wrongfully accusing him. when asmodeus blames him for something he hasn't done, you decide to put him in his place.

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. i haven't written in so long, but i finally found the time and motivation to finish this piece that i found in my drafts. i'll try to be more active on this blog, though i can't make any promises because my motivation makes a rare appearance these days, but i hope you enjoy this fic. see ya around <3

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.981 words

MASTERLIST

“Y/N, wait for me!” Asmodeus shouts after the lesson has ended with the loud ringing of the bells, waving a perfectly manicured hand to catch your attention before Mammon and you can disappear into the crowd of students rushing to enjoy their lunch break in the cafeteria.

As soon as you catch a glimpse of him your shoulders drop in resignation and he watches how you mutter something to his brother, exchange a sharp glare with him and quickly grab the sleeve of his wrinkled school uniform before he can bolt — it’s your intuition speaking when you reach out for him, rightfully so, because after all these months of growing close with him you just know what his next move will be and this time is no different.

The second he realizes who’s the cause of your faltering steps, he curses under his breath and braces for his sprint across the campus, only to stagger back against your unmoving body as your fingers dig into his arm.

“Hey, whatcha think you’re doin’? Let go of me,” he argues, helplessly tugging on your hand in a fruitless attempt to loosen your grip on his jacket. A crease forms between his brows, then his eyes shoot to his brother and in a moment of awful recognition, he understands. “No, ya can’t be serious... You’re really going to waste our lunch break and talk to him?”

“Yeah, and you’re coming with me,” you respond dryly.

Honestly, it's bold of him to assume you’d let him escape, but given by the offended glare he shoots in your general direction, he actually expected his plan to work. Instead, you’re dragging him with you to approach Asmodeus at the door of your shared classroom and all he can do is sigh defeatedly and accept his miserable fate.

At least he doesn’t have to do the talking.

“Thank you, darling,” his younger brother giggles and sweeps his bangs behind his ear, batting his eyelashes at you as if he could charm his way into your pants that easily. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you, though you have mastered the art of ignoring his silly flirtations and instead focus on what he actually wants. If his only goal was to flatter you, he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to catch up with you at school, but as always, he draws out the moment and relishes in the attention the two of you give him.

“You are such a sweetheart, my dear! I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he muses, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrays his true intentions. His lips, sparkling under a thick layer of lipgloss, stretch into a wicked smile, fully aware he’s testing your limits and your patience for him slowly withers away. Not that he cares about any of that.

Once again you’re grateful Lucifer chose Mammon to look after you considering the other options he had and every time you have the misfortune to get tangled in a chat with Asmodeus you become painfully aware of what your life in the devildom could have been like if he was assigned to take care of you.

The thought makes you cringe and you have to bite back a disgusted grimace that follows Asmodeus’ action of grazing his painted fingers over the length of your arm, therefore pulling your attention back to him once more. “May I take a look at your notes? I’m afraid I missed the important parts of the lesson because I was busy—”

“Starin’ at your ugly face in that stupid mirror y’always got in ya pocket? No wonder ya missed most of the class,” Mammon all but seethes behind you. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stares down his brother who merely laughs it off and lifts his hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

Another attempt to bewitch you with his demonic charm that fails miserably.

Seriously, you nearly feel second-hand embarrassed at his pathetic efforts to seduce you, but that’s what he’s always done —wrapping everyone around his finger to get what he wants, only to treat them like dirt after he exploited their friendliness and shortly upon your arrival at the devildom you’ve already learned your lesson. You’ll never fall for his tricks again.

"Maybe ya should start payin’ attention, then ya wouldn’t have to run after people beggin’ for their notes like a dog,” Mammon scoffs loudly and points an accusatory finger at the Avatar of Lust. He’s one to talk — skipping most of your classes, causing chaos left and right, and dragging his sorry ass back to you as soon as he needs some urgent tutoring to pass the school year with somewhat decent grades.

Your lips twitch at his dry comment nevertheless, amusement evident in your eyes when you throw him a quick glance over your shoulder that mirrors how much you’d love to leave his brother in the dirt just this once, but you think better of it. If Lucifer hears about your disrespectful stunt, you might get into trouble far worse than merely talking to Asmodeus for a couple of minutes (although that easily counts as one of the worst punishments anyone could ever experience down here, but that’s only your personal opinion).

“Can you hold this for a second?” You finally cave, shoving a few books and your wallet in Mammon’s hands and opening your bag to rummage through your notes. Of course the pages he needs are at the bottom, buried beneath notebooks, your water bottle and your pencil case and you huff in annoyance, internally cursing yourself for giving in and doing him this favor.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Asmodeus remarks tauntingly, his eyes trained on a spot behind your back. You assume he’s staring at Mammon who’s surely taking it as a challenge to prove his superiority, too stubborn to back down until he ultimately wins. It’s stupid and childish, but you couldn’t care less. The only thing on your mind right now is giving the Avatar of Lust your notes and get out of here before he demands different pages or worse, decides to chat you up until your break is over and you’re forced to attend class with an empty stomach.

“You’ll find your money missing when he returns it. If he even returns it, that is.”

You pause.

“What are you talking about?” His words settle in and it suddenly clicks what exactly he’s indicating, the outrageous accusation he’s spewing against his own brother.

Sure, you’ve heard the insults they throw at him. Ugly words like ‘scum’ and ‘coward’ that always cause your stomach to churn in anger at their poor treatment of their brother. You’ve witnessed them shove him around, badmouth and blame him for everything that goes wrong even if he isn’t the one at fault and although you’ve never dared to do more than speak up for him it appears that today, Asmodeus might be the first to make acquaintance with your fists.

“Mammon is just holding my stuff when my hands are full and so far I never found anything missing,” you snarl, revolt clear in your voice. To emphasize your statement, you whip around to look at Mammon, only to find that he isn’t there anymore. The spot where he’s supposed to be standing is left empty, abandoned. You’re too dumbfounded to think of a quick comeback when Asmodeus starts to giggle quietly behind your back, clearly satisfied with your defeat that rendered you speechless in a matter of seconds.

Yeah, it would be a real shame if someone broke his perfectly shaped nose and coincidentally disfigured his entire face for the rest of his miserable life.

“See? I told you so.” He drawls, that annoying, sickeningly smug little smile on his face and it takes every ounce of self-control in you to not strangle him in the middle of the hallway. Instead, you tighten your grasp on your notes, the notes he wanted, listen to the sound of crumpled paper between your shaking fingers, and raise an eyebrow.

If you can’t physically hurt him until he apologizes not only to you, but to Mammon too, you have to deny him the satisfaction of thinking he got under your skin — even if the complete opposite is the case.

Your head reels for a snappy comment that could send Asmodeus into a frenzy, anything really, to wipe that fucking smirk off his lips and buy you some time to get a hold of yourself. It pisses you off, more than it should, that you let him get that far, that he managed to let you doubt Mammon, your best friend who may be an ass, but would never stab you in the back like this.

“Honestly, you’re—"

“Are ya done now? I’m starvin’ and our lunch break is almost over,” Mammon interrupts suddenly. There’s a moment of silence and you swear you can hear your heart jump a little in your chest as he throws an arm over your shoulder and tilts his head to study your face. The arch of his brows holds an unspoken question — 'are you okay?’ is written in the crease between them and you smile fondly at the genuine worry in his eyes.

He’s a good guy.

You fail to notice what he holds in his hands until he flicks his finger against your forehead, huffing out a laugh at the small yelp escaping your mouth as he shoves your favorite drink against your chest, the one you always buy from the vending machine a few hallways further. He took a sip once and nearly spat it back out, you remember, and then he pulled a grimace and complained about your awful taste, but he remembered that it’s your favorite beverage anyway.

And he bought it for you. Despite everything Asmodeus had said about him, he got you your favorite drink because he knows you wouldn’t have enough time to run to the vending machine and get lunch at the cafeteria in time and if you weren’t about to downright murder Asmodeus, you’d probably kiss him.

“You know what, Asmodeus? Go fuck yourself,” you grin. Without hesitation you rip your notes apart, relishing in the way he winces at every piece that drops to the floor before you close your bag and take Mammon's hand to pull him down the hallway. He follows you with no complaint, though you catch him eyeing you suspiciously from the side.

“What was that for?” He finally breaks.

“He was talking shit about you.”

“So ya ripped yer own notes?” Mammon snorts and wedges his hand out of your grasp to sling his arm over your shoulders once again, pulling you into his side as you walk. “’m not sure if that’s badass or jus’ plain stupid.”

“Shut up,” you shove your elbow into his side, just hard enough to make him groan in pain, “You know how much I hate it when your brothers treat you like garbage. I’d do it again if it meant Asmodeus would shut the fuck up for once.”

Mammon blinks, once, twice, taking in your words before a smile spreads across his lips, tender and so sweet that it catches you off guard when you steal a glance at him. For a second, you both stare at each other, and then, hesitant, as if he isn’t quite sure how to show what he truly feels, he leans down and presses a kiss to your temple, avoiding your gaze as if that would somehow hide the blush on his cheeks.

You don’t mention it anyway, but your stupid heart flutters in your chest and you take a hasty sip of your drink to cover your own embarrassment as you stroll into the cafeteria.

#obey me mammon #mammon x reader #mammon x gender neutral reader #mammon x you #mammon x mc #mammon fluff #obey me mammon x mc #obey me x you #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x y/n #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x you

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thegnomelord · 2 months

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I silently make my way to your ask box, after days of reading your content like a lurker I'm. During these days I have made an oc, CoD self insert (With Monster AU variant and today I bombed my unwilling friend with Monster AU Makarov x Self insert brainrot, because I got succumbed to all cute courting hcs etc.) and started impulse One-shot. . Krhm. But in all seriousness. I love your way of writing, In your long fic about the Mage reader, while reading, I was talking to my friend how the picturing of the magic is so good, it's ugly, hard, dirty but damn is it powerful too yet not too op. I mostly returned to the as simple scene as the shower one in chap 2, usage of words and picturing how things tasted an looked like. Being on the edge in chap 1 and even before "the janitor" comes in, something tingles in my writer head "*Something is going to happen, I can feel it.*" That fic was one of the instanses I fell in love on your way of worldbuilding too. I accidentally found your Good dog fic first, as I was trying to find something from the tags for my own unholy projects. I notice the Male reader tag and despite my hope being drained after years, I click on it. And I was so glad I did. (On a note I'm in very bad brainrot train on that man, it took the edge off.) So, out of curiosity, my mind now given water after so long for being dehydreided, I decided to take a peek. And I ended up reading a lot, finding it so refreshing to also have a top reader. And I eventually found the Trans fics. I'm Pre-transition, ftm and the first time ever, a bloody fucking nsfw fic, (besides horny), makes me happy and content *with myself and my future.* And that's most sappy I will go but I told you this that your fics has also truly imbacted in some deeper way. Okay, back to lurking, but I will be going to some recommended blogs too, because I might just go and read all of your fics again. Also about time I remember to follow you. Keep up the good work and good luck on your studies. ✌️

Yessss another one joins to the monsterloving/ monsterfucking cult lol and honestly those impulsive one shorts are some of the best things ppl write lol.

And honestly you're making me grin like a mad man while I'm writing this :Dd Not to toot my own horn but I've had the worldbuilding of the HHABF universe for years lol and I love when magic is this nitty gritty thing that's more harmful than useful if you don't know how to use it lol. It feels great when people like my work but it's even better it impacts ppl in a deeper way than just 'oh yeah fap material' you know?

If you wanna check out some other of my moots there's @lieutnt who was the reason I got into writing myself because his work was so inspiring lol, then there's @rodolfoparras has some monster141 works and his old man Price is scrumptious, @embry-garrick has some trans fics too if I remember correctly and is a talented writer @fortheb0ys did some makarov fics too and they're great lol.

#gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence

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eldritch-spouse · 6 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/eldritch-spouse/734545383045382144/my-hot-take-is-livius-with-previous-try-hard

Jeez, I can only imagine how bad her mental state will be after chilling with Livius... And how happy he may be to get his hands on human like this lmao-

If it's a human, she can spend all her time on training to destroy any competition- Or, maybe, it's better to befriend them and gently push out of her league, covering it with "care"? Whatever her choice is, she's still able to push them low enough for her to shine even brighter.

After all, jealousy is an ugly feeling. She's too perfect for this! She's kind, understanding friend and a hardworking gymnast- Of course other people are jealous of her place! They are. They should be. It's only natural. They can fake smile as much as they want, but she knows the truth.

She can't believe in honesty of the other people because she's almost never fully honest- lying even to herself about sick pleasure blooming inside her chest every time she sees tears of her competitors and failures of her "friends". Her kindness not always fake – after all, she feels true pity to whose, who are just... worse! it's not their choice! – but even her genuine kindness can be suffocating and pull people down.

It's not a big matter for her anyway. Ugly people don't deserve her sincereness anyways. As long as she's not the ugly one...

And here's Livius- Taking her place in her usual dynamics with people. And not only taking- he's casually overdoing her in everything she thought she's good at. Making her feel so dirty, ugly and miserable for this crushing jealousy choking her when she looks at him. Such a freaking hell for her.

And she honestly thinks he's mocking her at first. No way he could be serious! No way he can "love" her when she's so disgusting! Such a needy, miserable, disgusting mess she is- and she swears he knows it. Sometimes she's getting brave enough to look in his eyes – just to see her ugly self looking back with crooked smile.

But for some reason, every time she's in her worst, he smiles with a childish joy, cooing in pure awe and proclaiming their "true love".

Maybe he's not joking. Maybe it is a true love. Maybe- maybe being ugly near him is alright.

Ah, maybe it's not a hell, but a blessing – being loved even without her fake smile.

And this is a story how Livius got a tyrant Queen and unlimited food supply 👍

I'm so sorry for bumping my impulsive writing on you 🥹😭 I hope it's okay haha- So yeah, I think I need to do myself a blog for ocs and writings already lmao. Thanks for motivation and inspiration, I love u and ur poor little(and not) meow-meows.💓

A continuation to this.

It seems they're perfect for each other in all levels! That's a really cute ending.

Good luck if you do make that blog! You're welcum. :7

#Livius oc

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crybaby-bkg · 7 months

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sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: simp Bakugou, hero battles, gun usage, bullet wounds, hero injuries, blood, self doubt, you and Bakugou both sustain injuries, an allusion to death of unnamed villain, quick mention of gore, PTSD flashbacks, a mention of drugging/non consensual alcohol use, grooming, mention of previous kidnapping, Yakuza members, mention of vomit once, mention of addiction, allusion to rape although it never happens, Word Count: 7k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

As the days passed on, your classes with Professor Kubo were going by great. She was teaching you a fuck ton, and she tied some of her lessons into vigilantism in order for the connection to make the transition easier. You loved it so far, even if there were a few pieces in the foundation of hero society that you didn’t necessarily agree with.

After about two weeks of lessons, were you ready to go patrolling with Bakugou, although you had to pick up your costume first. All of it was kinda daunting, honestly, knowing that people would make a big fuss about you being with him, some new hero nobody’s ever seen before. You were worried bigger villains would come out of the woodworks, try to take a shot at the number four hero with you accompanying him, just to throw him off. You were even scared of the fangirls, and how they would react seeing you walk with him, maybe even sharing a kiss or two in the alleyways.

Your face warms at the thought of that, tucking your chin to your chest as you glance at Bakugou from the other side of the elevator. He’s cussing someone out on the phone, but he looks over to you, catching your eye and lifting an eyebrow in question. But you don’t say anything, try not to stare at the way his stupid lips purse when the person on the other side of the phone says something stupid again.

When you finally reach the floor that Eddie resides on, does he finally get off of the phone. Bakugou doesn’t say anything, only gestures a hand in front of him for you to get off first, and follows after you in the open studio.

“Finally, you’re here!” Eddie calls out with a grin, clapping his hands at your arrival. “I just finished your costume last night, it really stumped me.” He tells you, whizzing away from you just as quickly as he approached you. He turns on his heel, beelining to a small walk-in dressing room that you hadn’t noticed before. You send Bakugou a look, but he only shakes his head at you.

“Go ‘head,” he tells you, voice gruff as Eddie holds the door open with a grin. You eye the eccentric man, slowly walking into the dressing room.

“If you made me some ugly shit, then I’ll blow your kneecaps out.” You promise him, pulling the handle to the door closed yourself. His face lights up before he disappears though, and you hear him mumble something to Bakugou about character development. Shit head.

You turn to the only piece of clothing on a hanger clipped to the back of the door, your eyebrows damn near touching your hairline as you take everything in. You had let Eddie know a couple of days ago that you wanted to change his original design some; no long sleeves, nothing heavy for flexibility, and definitely no heels. So what hangs in front of you now makes you a little more than giddy with excitement.

“Goddamn, it doesn’t even take you this long to get ready in the morning! What’re ya doin’ in there?” Bakugou asks after a few minutes, banging his fist lightly on the door. You ignore him in favor of taking all of it in, turning this way and that, face softening at the sight in front of you. This feels…right.

“You need some help?” Bakugou asks in a lower tone next, and you can only imagine the way his face is pressed to the door, how his ears are probably redder than your tattoo. You swing the door open quickly, snickering at his pained grunt when you hit him with it, muttering,

“No, pervert.” But you’re smiling as you exit, eyes casted low as you stare down at yourself. “Whaddya think?” You ask him and Eddie, smoothing a hand down your legs as you finally work up the courage to look at them.

Eddie is smiling bigger than you’ve ever seen, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet, clapping all six of his hands excitedly. He’s blabbering on and on about something, but as you turn to Bakugou, whose eyes finally open after rubbing his nose, does he still.

His eyes roam your figure, and you would think that you’d feel icky, feel slimy and gross and too vulnerable at the way he drinks you in. Like how Mr. Riku would stare at you whenever you’d come home and he would be lingering in the hallways. Like how men would stare at you whenever you’d walk down the street in leggings and dresses. Like how your abuser would stare at you whenever he dressed you up all prettily.

But…it doesn’t. It doesn’t give you those same feelings of bugs crawling under your skin, of bile rising to the back of your throat. No, instead, with the way Bakugou looks at you, you feel—you feel confident? Is that the word? Like you could strut and model in only a paper bag and still hold your chin high, your smile unwavering? The way he looks at you makes you like what you’re wearing, makes the self blame of needing to wear something bigger, looser, less revealing, dissipate right into thin air.

And you didn’t even think that this costume would be worth the way he trips over his words and how his eyes haven’t left you yet.

Your new costume consists of a sage green halter romper, the legs reaching down just below your knee with built in kneepads in the thick material. There are different spaces and pockets, where you guess you’ll fit multiple guns and knives onto, even a tanned belt that holds more weaponry and ammo. There’s barely a slither of skin where the dull brown knee high boots meet the material, heavy and tall, with even more pockets for weapons. You have forearms sleeves that hide a small compartment for small medical tools, and what you’re guessing, even more knives (damn, that’s a lotta weapons). There’s a sleeveless jacket that comes with it, reaching the back of your calves and a hood that hides a majority of your face, and thankfully, your ass too.

“I tried the mask on, but I figured you guys would wanna see the costume without it first.” You mumble after sometime has passed with both of them admiring you. It seems to snap Bakugou out of his trance, shaking his head as he straightens his back, hands resting on his hips. He nods to you once, before gesturing to the dressing room for you to retrieve it, movements mechanical and awkward.

“Gotta get the full effect.” Bakugou grunts to you, one of his hands covering his mouth, eyes still captivated by you in your new costume. Your face burns at how fucking shameless he is, turning quickly to get the final piece of your costume. You click it into place before turning around again, Eddie swooning dramatically.

“Can I get your autograph?” He asks you, voice high pitched as he bounces on the balls of his feet again. You only roll your eyes at him, biting back a laugh before looking at Bakugou again.

“It’s nice, right?” You ask him, fiddling with the heavy material of the mask. It’s more form fitting than your previous one, and covers your face only from your nose on down with a circular space open for your mouth, curving around your jaw perfectly. It’s a dark brown, almost black in color, the feeling heavy but the fabric soft like velvet, etchings of sharp teeth around the hole where your mouth lies. It feels a little similar to your mask as the Red Medusa, and in a way, you feel as though you’re paying homage to your roots.

“Really nice.” Bakugou says simply, hand still covering his mouth before he drags it down, reaching around to scratch at the back of his neck. He clears his throat a few times, eyes drinking you in, and you spin for him because he looks like he’s fucking dying for you to do so, but so hesitant in asking.

“How does it feel?” Bakugou asks you, arms crossed before he fits them in his pockets and then hangs them loosely by his sides before crossing them again. It makes you laugh at how awkward he is, face scrunching up at his reddening cheeks and frown when he sees that you’re catching on to him.

“Really great, actually,” you answer, standing in front of the wall length mirror beside the dressing room (why so many mirrors, you have no clue). You admire yourself, nodding a few times as you take everything in. “It’s really comfortable, easy to move in, has a lotta pockets. I love it, thank you.”

You direct the last part to Eddie, reaching over to shake his hand. He grins at you, the other five arms reaching out to shake your hand too, and you can only laugh and shake your head at his excitement. When you finally pull away, you step back, staring at yourself once more in the mirror.

This feels…really right. Makes you feel whole, like you’ve been missing out on what you should’ve been doing this whole time. But you won’t forget the Red Medusa, and you vow to continue on helping those who need it most.

…

“Ready for your first day patrolling?” Bakugou asks you as you stand outside of his agency’s building. Everything has become so daunting so quick; the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had basked in the attention and praise (not that you’d admit it if anyone asked) when you showed off your new costume to Bakugou’s friends. It all felt so easy, just a sweet little intermission before the real show began. And as it was starting, you could feel your heart palpitating behind your ribs.

What if you were a complete fuck up? What if the civilians hated you? The material of your costume is thick and durable but—but what if someone tears through it and reveals your tattoo? Your identity? How would the public treat you then?

“Hey, look at me.” Bakugou barks at you, making your eyes swivel from their unfocused gaze across the street to his face. He looks angry, with the black eyeliner smudged around his eyes and his mask covering his face. But, as you squint, you can see the worry creasing the lines of his forehead, his hesitancy to reach a hand out to you. You let him, feel the heavy weight rest on your shoulder, ground you into the moment.

“Ain’t no need to be freaking out, okay? I’ve seen what you can do, and you’re gonna fuckin’ kill it. You hear me?” He asks you, squeezing you once as he ducks down to maintain eye contact. You swallow thickly, shaking your head as if to clear away the thoughts before you sigh heavily through your nose, feeling the nerves start to roll off of you, albeit slowly.

“Yeah, I got you.” You mumble, balling your hands into fists before releasing the tension. Make your body as tense as you can, build up all that anxiety and fear—and release it. Something a shitty therapist had told you before, but you guess the advice wasn’t so bad now. You do that once, all over, eyes clenching shut and your shoulders tensing again before releasing with another sigh.

“I’m ready.” You say, voice more determined this time. But your confidence shakes when you look at Bakugou, and he’s fixed you with this funny look, a cross between confusion and holding in a laugh.

“Fuck was that? Were you tryna hold in anxiety shits?” He asks, finally letting go of you as he stands tall, arms crossed over his chest as his smile becomes bigger the more you glare at him.

“Shut up, and let’s go.” You mumble instead of gracing him with banter he was expecting, but he laughs heartily anyway. It gains some looks from a few passerby’s, unused to the big bad Dynamight letting out such a sound in public, his guard down completely. You only elbow him in the ribs, his laughter abruptly cut off, before you snicker yourself and start your journey down the long streets of Musutafu.

“This is boring,” you say not too long after starting patrolling, huffing under your breath. Only a few hours had passed after starting, and it wasn’t anything to write home to. He was eerily quiet when switched from Bakugou to Dynamight, and you could tell that he wouldn’t shift back until you two were safe in his office again. There also wasn’t a lot of people out today, which both calmed you and bored you some more. So, paired with the little conversation and what feels like aimless walking, you didn’t really see the point of all this.

“Promise you, you’d like it better this way.” Bakugou grunts out, his heavy grenade armory grazing your arms and hip. You resist the urge to bump him back in fear of accidentally setting one of those things off. Instead, you huff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why would I like to just walk around in these heavy ass boots for hours if I’m not kicking ass?” You bemoan, head falling back on your shoulders dramatically. Bakugou sucks his teeth at you, head turning as he opens his mouth to say something, when a loud explosion goes off in the near distance. Both of your heads whip up to see what happened, finding someone in the air above the exploding building, cackling, as their eyes shoot out something red.

“Well, thanks a lot. You just talked up some shit to happen.” Bakugou mutters under his breath, clicking his tongue, before he jumps into action. He doesn’t give you any warning besides that, crouching down before blasting up to the sky, taking off in the direction of the villain.

“Don’t blame me, asshole!” You call out after him, immediately taking off as quick as you can in their direction. Your heart jumps in your throat, the rush of being back in action taking over. Fuck, you missed this. Missed chasing villains, missed beating their asses to a pulp, lighting them up with holes from your guns and knives alike.

Back in the agency, Bakugou had taken you to their weaponry room, helped you pick out all the toys you’d wanna use while in battle. You had never seen a collection so pretty, and to know that you’re packing the best of the best only boosted you even more.

When you get to the scene after what feels like hours, Bakugou is already fighting with the villain. Half of the building has already collapsed, so you take it upon yourself to help those who are trapped under rubble, calling for backup on your earpiece for the pieces of debris that’s too heavy for you.

You’re pushed to your knees from the wind force when Bakugou is sent flying past you, only a few feet away. He curses loudly, shaking soot from his hair as he tries to stand, faltering at the last second. He doesn’t look at you, though he calls out,

“Get these people outta here!” Before he takes off again for the villain, sending rubble flying through the air.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” You yell back at him. You turn back to the civilians, trying to stay as calm as you can for the people who are panicking, ushering them outside of the villain’s vicinity. It looks like he can only shoot people with a razor thin glare from his eyes, and can’t expand it any further, and it would take a loss of focus from his battle with Bakugou to try to hurt anyone else. So, you think the people leaving should be good for now.

When you’ve cleared a majority of them away, do you finally look overhead at how Bakugou’s doing. He looks…slower, than he usually is, and that pisses you the fuck off for some reason. How could he fucking slow down at a time like this? On your first day—how could he—how could he have a fucking hole in the middle of his stomach coming straight out of his fucking back?!

“The fuck are you doing up there?” You screech to him, pulling out the longest muzzle gun you have, strapped to the entirety of your thigh. You load it up, keeping your eye on the battle, hissing through your teeth as if in pain, too, when the villain slices through Bakugou’s calf next. He yelps in pain but keeps pushing himself, throwing himself at the villain, who just barely dodges his blast.

“Get the fuck outta the way,” you murmur to yourself, holding the gun up, finger on the trigger, your other hand supporting its weight. You squint your eye as you try to get a good look at the dude, his quick buzzing movements, wonder how the fuck he can fly and have laser eyes at the same time. Maybe he’s found himself ahold of those quirk enhancers? But it can’t be—he wouldn’t be able to have two quirks, if that was the case.

As you mull it over in your head, you and the villain’s eyes lock. It sends a chill through your body, makes your mouth curl into a Grinch-like smile, before you fire off multiple rounds through the air. The barely there whizzing sound slices through the silence of the city, as it strikes the man in his belly and the sides of his neck. You go to celebrate, but find Bakugou, quicker than lightning, diving in front of you.

“Fuck!” He yells out through gritted teeth, as he falls to the ground in front of you, body curled up. You stumble back, confused, eyes flittering from the villain falling from the sky, to the hero in front of you.

“The fuck are you—oh my gods,” your voice drops to a whisper as you step over Bakugou’s body, finding three new holes in his body. “When the fuck—how—what?” You mumble to yourself, dropping to your knees as you press your hands to his gaping wounds. They’re thin, but the skin around the holes sizzles, hot to the touch, like the laser burned right through his flesh—literally. You look to Bakugou’s face, scrunched up in pain, in question.

“Fucker took a quirk multiplier.” He grunts out, pushing himself up with one hand, the left one he lays on injured with a hole in his bicep. “He sent out, fuck, multiple lasers all at once when you fired off at ‘em. Could barely even see them in the air.”

What? You hadn’t seen shit. Was it because your gun was in your peripheral? Had you gotten that cocky from shooting one guy that you had completely let your guard down and—and now this? Now, the first person, the first man, who has given you so much grace than you would’ve ever thought you deserved, jumps in front of you? Are you really that helpless? Do you need a hero to save you every fucking time?

“You’re not my Prince Charming for saving me, dumbass.” You grit through your teeth, but Bakugou can hear the plain fear and worry in your voice. So he only smiles at you, laughs through a wet cough, as he glances down at your hands pressing on the wounds at his chest and stomach.

“I never liked Rapunzel much, anyway.” He tells you, fighting to stand up when you hear the rubble moving, the villain standing hundreds of feet away from you. But his eyes are focused solely on the two of you, his mouth curled back in a snarl as he holds the bloody side of his neck.

“Wrong Disney movie, stupid.” You mumble, heart picking up pace again as the reality of the situation sets in. You called for backup ten minutes ago, and yet no one’s here. So it looks like this’ll be all left to you. You reload your gun again, cocking it, as Bakugou sways beside you, looking worse for wear.

“Don’t fuckin’ count me out, yet.” He snarls, wiping the blood starting to drip from the corner of his mouth as he pulls off his damaged grenade. But he looks like fuckin’ shit, with all the holes in his body and the way his eyes glaze over.

“Save your energy.” You command him, lifting your gun once more as the villain starts going on this unnecessarily longwinded rant about life and society fucking him over. You couldn’t give two shits to listen, much less care. As the man starts hollering to the tops of his lungs, voice hoarse, you fire off another few rounds to his body.

He screams like a banshee, head flinging back in pain but he continues trekking on, fiery eyes lit aflame. Bakugou ignores your command, rushing to the villain again, but its too late when he sends another laser at you.

You don’t move enough in time to keep it from slicing through both of your fucking hands. From the back of your left hand holding the barrel, through the flesh, going through your right hand that holds the trigger, grazing the side of your neck as you did his. An involuntary scream rips through your mouth as you drop the gun, a frustrated howl tearing through you as your hands begin to shake from the pain.

Fuck, what the hell could you do now? Your hands were what kept you strong, close distance is what kept you strong, hand to hand battle is what kept you strong. What the fuck could you do now that you were rendered useless?

Would this be your life as a hero now? Rendered fucking incapable because a villain could point out your weakness in only a fifteen minute battle? Was that all it took to be put down like some rabid dog that was only ever bark? How could you have been so strong as the Red Medusa, and become so weak as—as—

“Fuck you!” You hear Bakugou scream out, your head whipping up to the source of his voice. You’ve got to get out of this self pitying bullshit, and fucking help him.

Your stomach churns at the sight of Bakugou pinned under some rubble, his arms strayed out to the sides, facing down to the concrete. The villain kneels above him, smiling something sinister, as he grabs the sides of Bakugou’s head, eyes peeled back and wide and unnerving.

He’s gonna fucking kill him.

What can you do? What the fuck can you do when you can’t feel your hands anymore? When your body is frozen in shock at the sight of someone you considered a friend, something more, could die right in front of you? What can you fucking do?

Can you…can you use it? Does it still work? Does a quirk that has lain dormant for years still know how to run when called upon in dire moments like these? Will…will it all work out in the end?

With a concentration you haven’t been able to muster since you were nothing but a victim, you focus on the man in front of you. The man that opened his home to you, his arms, his comfort, his friendship, his love. You focus on his heartbeat, find it thumping wildly in your head, find his veins pumping blood through his body, find his sweat running from his pores.

And you hope—with the desperation of a mortal praying to a god to have mercy on their sinful soul—that it still works.

The world goes quiet for a moment, before an ear shattering explosion desecrates the concrete from underneath Bakugou’s hands, sends his body alongside the villain’s soaring into the air. The force of the blast sends you flying back, guarding your face from the raining debris, wipe soot away from your eyes before you blink up.

Bakugou looks like an angel, you think. One that brings merciful death, as he holds the villain up by the collar of his ripped shirt, his ashen hair a halo from the suns rays. The other hand cups over the man’s eyes, before a small explosion lights up his face, an agonizing scream ripping from his throat. Bakugou falls back to the ground gracefully, setting the man down amongst the rubble, before he straightens his back, sharp gaze suddenly focused on you.

“What did you do to me?” Bakugou asks in a rough whisper as he stomps over to you, crouching in front of you as he looks down at his hands. They seem to be pulsing with life again, his arms seem to be heavier, a feeling surging through his veins that he’s never felt before.

“Did you kill him?” You ask quietly, eyes focused on the limp body a few feet in front of you. Bakugou blinks at you before looking over his shoulder, turning back to you as he swallows thickly.

“We’re not supposed to kill villains.” He tells you, sounds robotic, like its something he’s been trained to say over and over again. You think back to Miruko in that alleyway those few years ago, covered in blood, her heel trailing brain mass and bones, and you think. You think she must’ve never learned that in hero courses.

“I didn’t ask what you’re supposed to do.” You counter, heart in your throat, hoping you can avoid the obvious question of why Bakugou must feel like a gods blood runs through his veins now.

Thankfully, a flood of people come rushing to the scene, heroes and paramedics alike. The rest of the time goes by in a blur, as Kirishima explained that there was another villain closer to the agency, and they believed that it was all a set up.

It goes in one ear and out the other though, as you hold your hands out for the healer to close the wounds in your hands. She’s an older lady, who smiles at you so sweetly that it makes your eyes well with tears, for some reason. She moves onto Bakugou next, and it takes a little longer since he was struck more than you.

“You know,” Bakugou starts suddenly, making your eyes whip from your healed hands to his tired eyes. “I thought you’d have trouble with me just taking over.” He admits, smile soft as you roll your eyes playfully at him.

“If it was me and the villain alone, then I’d be able to handle myself. But I knew I could do other things while you fought him alone.” You shrug to Bakugou, thanking the healer when she finishes with him and patters off. Bakugou turns to face you as you both sit on the back of the ambulance van, a stupid fucking smile stretching his face, eyes low and lazy.

“So you trust me? Without even having to prove myself as a hero to you?” He asks, and god, you wanna fucking strangle him. You pull his ear harshly, frowning when he only snickers under his breath.

“Shut the hell up, nerd.” You grumble to him, pulling him in for a quick kiss when you don’t think anyone’s looking. You pull away when things start to get too heated, face suddenly hot as you sit against the cold metal of the van. Bakugou stares at you for a long while, his head cocked to the side as if in thought. You already know what he’s gonna say, so you nod once to him.

“I’ll tell you when we get home. About everything.” You promise him in a whisper. He’s satisfied with that, nodding to you, watching the busyness of the scene unfold in front of the two of you.

…

When you return home, you both shower separately before you find yourself in his room. You haven’t been in here much, besides cleaning him up when he was injured and repeating that occurrence a few more times once he realized that you could care for him. He patters around you while you lay on the floor, putting some stuff away, before he lays down beside you. You’re in the space between his bed and under his TV, and it feels a lot less daunting this way.

Baby steps, you tell yourself. He kinda asked you out a few days ago, and its something you’ve been mulling over. You guys have been moving a little out of order, but laying beside him in his bed feels a bit too daunting at the moment. So you lay on the floor, close to the bed at least, and tell yourself that things will move further when you’re ready.

“Did you feel like a deity had taken over your body earlier when that villain had you pinned?” You whisper suddenly, hands folded over your stomach as you look up at this painted ceiling. Bakugou stiffens beside you before he relaxes, turning his head to face you, but you don’t meet his gaze yet.

“I did.” He answers simply, waiting for an explanation. You toggle the words around in your head for a few moments, trying to push back all the fears and worries that start to eat away at you. You’re not used to talking about this—not with men. The last time you shared this, you had been whisked away, seemingly forever forgotten by the law. You swallow thickly, blinking back the onslaught of tears you wished never came up whenever you opened up about yourself.

“My quirk is called power augmentation.” You blurt out, let it spill all over yourself as you let out a shaky breath. “It’s the ability to enhance the powers of others, but not to strengthen myself.” You laugh weakly at the irony of it all, blink away rapidly falling tears as they muddy up your hairline.

Bakugou swipes one from your cheek, and you flinch away in surprise. He pulls back, his breath caught in his throat before you relax, finding his warm hand between your bodies, signaling him to wipe away the rest. He does, silently, as you fight off the sob that makes you want to curl into a ball beside him. He’s quiet for entirely too long, his eyes soft when you finally turn to face him.

“When we discussed you becoming a hero,” he starts off slowly, brows pulling in in confusion. “You said you didn’t have a useful quirk. Thought you didn’t have one at all.” His voice falls to a whisper, the air between you two heavy and thick as he seems to think back. You remember telling him, Yuu, and the other heroes, that you might not have a useful quirk or anything, but you can protect the people who need saving Had even dubbed yourself as quirkless, as to avoid suspicion. He just hadn’t pieced the complicated pieces of the puzzle together yet, as you can both protect people without a quirk because it never did anything for you personally, and it didn’t change the cause that you were fighting for.

“It was easier to pass it off as being quirkless, in all honesty. I didn’t want to be taken advantage of again.” You confess, throat seizing up when you realized that you’ve revealed too much.

Or…maybe its time to start opening up more, especially if you want to further whatever you have going on with Bakugou. How could he understand who you were if he only ever knew what you projected for him to see? How could he ever get further with you if you only ever kept your walls up? You couldn’t be gator and moat and castle and helpless princess all at once. You refused to be any of that, anymore.

“When I was nineteen, I met this guy. Didn’t have any family or any good friends, really, to tell me to stay away from him and his gang.”

“You were involved with a Yakuza member?” Bakugou asks in surprise, turning on his side to face you, head propped up in his hands. You match his form, nodding solemnly.

“The leader of them, actually.” You whisper before continuing, eyes focused on the carpet between you two. “He was older than me, like twenty eight, but talked about how mature I was. How I was leagues ahead of other women my age, that he needed someone like me by his side. And I was equal parts terrified and struck in amazement. Me? Who grew up without shit to my name, why did someone so powerful like him need me?”

Your eyes well with tears as you recall the story you hadn’t told anyone in so long, much less another man. But Bakugou listens so attentively, his eyebrows screwed up, jaw tightening, but he rubs your flank when your breaths become heavy and staccato.

“I told him, early on in our relationship, what my quirk was.” You confess, eyes clenching shut as you can’t help but beat yourself up over it again, despite how long ago it happened. “I shouldn’t have done that, but nobody taught me to guard myself like that, you know? I knew how to fight, but I didn’t know how to fight off silent and slow attacks like that.”

Your teeth grit in frustration as you try to keep the sobs at bay, but Bakugou only nods his head, cups your jaw, helps you unclench your teeth. A defeated cry falls from your lips, your head bowed as you collapse back down to your side again, and he only follows suit as he shushes you.

“You can’t blame yourself—don’t fuckin’ blame yourself for that slimy piece of shit creeping in on you.” Bakugou tells you, his words firm but his voice gentle. You nod, rubbing a hand over your face as you lay there, defeated as you think back on the hell portion of your life that you never would’ve thought you could escape.

“When I first showed him how much my quirk could augment his, he praised me so much. Made me feel like I had a purpose, like I finally made my mark on the world. But then,” you swallow thickly. “But then he started draining me. I can boost other peoples’ quirks, but it starts sucking the life outta me the more I do it. He didn’t care about me though, he never really did.

“And when I refused to use my quirk on him after seeing how he’d destroy the fuckin’ city—he kidnapped me.” You laugh humorlessly, as your eyes unfocus on the dip of Bakugou’s collarbone peeking out from his black tank top. “Kept me in his stupid fuckin’ hideaway houses, would keep me high and drugged up so I couldn’t fight back. It didn’t make my quirk weaken any, only seemed to give him an unlimited amount of strength somehow, so he used it to his advantage.”

Bakugou’s face twists in disgust at that, his hands curling into fists under his head and in between your bodies. But you place your palm over his, gently, your eyes telling him do not grow angry for me, although his own answer back how could I ever be peaceful?

“Did it ever go beyond just using your quirk?” He asks you, voice grated and low, but he tries to keep it soft for you. Tries to keep the quietness of the bedroom still, even though your shuddering breaths creak in the conversation like an old floorboard.

“He tried to assault me,” you answer, head bowed low, chin tucked to your chest. “A few times, actually. But, no matter what, I never lost my anger, and I screamed bloody fuckin’ murder every time. He told me that he thought my real quirk was an ear-splitting scream.” You laugh humorlessly at that, but Bakugou only continues to frown, eyes searching your face when you finally look at him.

“How’d you escape?” He asks you. Your eyes fall to his mouth, how the corners pull down so deeply, the stubble under his lip. It helps bring you back to the moment, as you slowly inch your hand into his, until he holds it, gentle, like you’re only porcelain doll and he, a bull.

“Started making myself throw up the shit they’d give me, so I could stay more aware. It was fuckin’ hard, trying to actively fight an addiction forced upon me, while finding a way to escape,”

“But you did it.” Bakugou cuts you off, his eyes round and soft and so understanding. Your heart pangs in your chest as the tears start to well up again, a shaky smile finding your face as you nod at him.

“I did it.” You repeat, wiping away a tear with your conjoined hands. “I have no clue how, honestly, my mind blocks out a lot of memories from that time, since he kept me for a little over three years.” Bakugou winces at that, but you continue. “But, I’d gotten my hands on one of his followers phones, tipped off where their hideaway was with the clues around me, and jumped out of an open window when the opportunity arose.

“He wasn’t supposed to be home that day, but he came there like he knew that that was the day I would start fighting back. Him and his lackeys chased me for what felt like hours, but I just kept running. Dodging and fighting them until,” your voice runs dry at the thought, at the picture in your mind that plays out for you.

“Until Miruko saved me.” You say in a quiet rush of breath. “I don’t know where her and Endeavor came from, but she just started whooping their asses, killed them, until there weren’t any left. Endeavor was trying to help me calm down but—but I had heard about him and what he did to his family all those years ago. So how could I trust another man that I knew was abusive in that moment, you know?”

The silence is deafening, when you finally look at Bakugou. He has this unreadable expression covering his face, eyebrows drawn tight and his mouth set in a thin line. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but brings you in tightly for a hug.

“Don’t pity me.” You tell him through clenched teeth, even though your nails dig into his skin through his thin shirt, your tears wetting his shoulder.

“I could never pity the strongest person I know.” He whispers, means it, and you an feel the genuineness seeping off of him. It makes the tears fall even harder, your body going limp as it feels like you’ve finally expelled all that you’ve been holding in for what feels like forever.

When he lets go of you, you don’t want to leave the comfort, the warmth of his arms. So you stay there, head inched back until your eyes meet his own again, your arms loosely wrapped around his middle, his doing the same.

“I presented myself as quirkless because I didn’t want anyone to take advantage of me again.” You repeat, and this time, he gets it. He nods silently, squeezing you close to him once more when he sees your lip tremble.

“I’d never do that. Fuckin’ ever.” He promises you, pecking your forehead when he loosens his grip once more. You thank him quietly, eyes falling to his lips once more.

“I thought that if I didn’t use it again, then it would die away inside of me, you know? It’s easier to say I’m quirkless than to say I’m only ever useful to other people, but never myself.” You try to laugh humorlessly again, but Bakugou tuts at you. He places a finger under your chin and tilts your head back until you’re forced to look him in the eye again.

“You don’t have to be useful to other people in order to be worthy or good enough. I’m thankful to have you here with me, no matter the condition, because I love you as the person you are.” Bakugou confesses, his eyebrows downturned as his tone goes soft. Your eyes widen at his words though, a shaky little smile etching onto your face as you scoot up a little until your nose brushes his.

“You love me?” You parrot, watch the confusion on his face creep up before it reddens with embarrassment. “I think we’re moving a little backwards here, Bakugou.” You whisper, eyes falling between his own shy gaze and his twitching mouth, his ears perking up at the use of his name.

“Yeah, you got me telling you I love you ‘nd shit, and you never even agreed to date me.” He scoffs playfully, eyes rolling into his head before he smiles softly. Your own face burns at that, hands squeezing around his hard middle as you brush the tip of your nose against his own. There’s barely any space between you two now, your shared breath hot and electric.

“Really? Never gave you an answer to that, huh?” You tease.

“Nope.”

“Oh, well, I answered you in my head.” You shrug at him, lips brushing his own without ever really giving him a kiss. Bakugou’s eyes are low at that, mouth inching to claim yours, voice low.

“And that answer was?” He asks you, head tilting ever so slightly. You match him, licking your lips, tasting his own cherry lip balm covered ones in the process.

“Yeah. The answer is yes.” You nod, barely getting the words out before his lips slide against your own. Bakugou hums against you, his mouth fitting perfectly in yours, his hands bringing you closer to his body.

As you lay there, tangled in limbs on his bedroom floor, you wish you could go back in time. Wish you could tell nineteen year old you that things do get better; that your choices do become smarter; that life does love you a little more than you thought it did; that you are worthy; that you are good enough; that you deserve kindness; gentleness; softness; love. That you deserve every good thing to come to you from now on, and forever more.

chapter eleven

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#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#crybaby.bkg.scorned

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