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noisynaia · 1 year

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𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰𝑺 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮

summary: The good old 'oh no, there's only one bed' trope.

pairing: Joel Miller x afab!reader

word count: 3.8k

note: Explicit (18+). Vaginal fingering, unprotected P in V, creampie. No use of (y/n). Nightmares. This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language.

“Can you cut it out?” You sigh at the man who is currently and stubbornly laying on the hard floor next to the bed.

It had been raining heavily for the entire day, the downpour so heavy that you couldn’t see more than a foot or two in front of you. All three of you were soaked to the bone and freezing. Spirit had been very low in your little travel group. Ellie had not come with her usual jokes and Joel had been even grumpier than usual so stumbling upon the little cabin had been a real stroke of luck. There had even been a dresser with enough dry clothes for all three of you to change into.

You had given Ellie the couch in the living room since that was with the fireplace, leaving the single bedroom for you and Joel.

“Just get up here. There’s plenty of space for the both of us.” You continue, cursing him and his damn stubbornness. The bed is not huge, but it will fit two people finely.

“I’m fine down here. Trust me, I’ve had worse.” He just grumbles.

You sigh, peeking your head over the edge of the mattress to look down at him. “I know you have a bad back and I need you to be well rested and alert, okay.” He tilts his head to look at you. “We both do…” You add, using Ellie to guilt trip him is maybe a little low, but you know it’s going to work and it is not like what you’re saying isn’t true.

“Fine.” He finally sighs, as he gets up from the dusty floor, his knees creaking slightly before laying down next to you, but he doesn't get under the cover, instead laying straight on his back on top of the comforter with his arms crossed over his chest and eyes staring straight up at the ceiling.

You want to tell him to just relax and get under the covers, but you don’t want to push your luck, so you just settle for the small victory of getting him into the bed, and who knows as sad as it makes you, maybe he really finds sleeping next to you more uncomfortable than the floor.

You try not to dwell on that possibility too much, ashamed of how much that would affect you, so you just get comfortable under the covers instead. Turning to lay on your side, facing away from him as you close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come to you.

“Can I ask you something?” You whisper into the silent room, somehow knowing that he hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

“Sure.”

“It will never get easier will it? Living in this world… I tell myself that it will, that it is going to hurt less with time but… I’m just kidding myself, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time and you start to think that he may have fallen asleep before he finally breaks the silence. “No, I don’t think it will ever get easier.” A short beat of silence before he continues. “But I guess we can hope.”

You sigh at his words. You really do hope so. The two of you are quiet again and you think he might have fallen asleep when he finally speaks again.

“Thank you.” Joel whispers into the darkness.

“For what?” You turn your head slightly towards him.

“For tolerating my bullshit I guess.”

It is the last words exchanged between you before sleep finally creeps up on the both of you.

—

You wake up only a few hours into the night by the feeling of Joel’s frantic movements. He is tossing and turning uneasily and uttering incomprehensible muttered words. You turn around to face him, barely capable of making him out in the darkness of the room.

“Joel” You whisper, propping yourself up on your elbow, making you hover over him slightly.

You watch the distressed look on his face, his eyes shut tight and his brows furrowed. Whispers of some terror make it out of his mouth. Your hand is hovering over his arm, unsure if he would be okay with your touch. But his nightmare seemingly continues. You frown and gently place your hand over his arm, softly rubbing the spot with your thumb.

“Joel.” You speak softly. “Wake up.”

You can feel how his whole body is shaking. He finally opens his eyes, letting out a gasp. His eyes wide and unfocused, clearly terrified of whatever he’d dreamed about, before they lock with yours and his gaze relaxes a little.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, his rapid breathing is slowly coming under control.

“Don’t apologize.” You frown at him, your eyes are now better accustomed to the darkness and you can see his face more clearly. “I get them too.” You confess dropping your head back on the pillow.

“Do you need anything?” You ask, feeling him move slightly on the mattress.

“No.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

Silence falls over you, the two of you just laying and listening to your own quiet heartbeats.

“Why don’t you get under the covers?” You finally say, almost a little pleading.

And to your happy surprise he actually does. Joining you under the covers, even though he lays stiff as a board and way closer to the edge of the bed than he needs to. You can live with that, you are just happy that he at least can be a little more comfortable and warm.

“Joel?”

“Yes?”

“You can talk to me, you know? If you ever need it”

A beat of silence.

“Yeah… I know darling.”

Darling. You think your heart skips a beat by the endearing name and you let out a sigh as you finally close your eyes again. “Goodnight Joel”

“Goodnight.”

—

You wake again in the early hours of the morning. It’s a slow ease into consciousness, a much gentler awakening than you normally get to have. Your eyes are still closed, and the only thing you currently perceive is the warm safe feeling of complete comfort, still half asleep, you haven’t registered what contributes to this feeling, how Joel is embracing you in his sleep.

Comfortably wrapped in a blanket in a soft bed and feeling the heat of someone’s body against you is a luxury you haven't felt in a long time. The comforting feeling of soft human touch makes you melt into it, and crave it from the very marrow of your bones. You stir slightly, letting out a content sigh as you slowly get pulled out of your sleepy daze, and that is when you realize the position you are in.

Your back is pressed up against Joel’s chest and his strong arm is wrapped around your waist. Your legs are entangled under the covers and his steady warm breath fans over the back of your neck. The two of you must have instinctively reached for each other in your sleep, the presence of a warm comforting body too irresistible, nuzzling you against himself in his sleep.

Your heart skips a beat at the gentle touch, feeling like you are going to cry from the overload of human touch. There is no way you’re gonna be able to part from his embrace without waking him, but maybe you should? Even though you really don’t want to. You feel slightly guilty as you lie and listen to his steady heartbeat

You want to be selfish for a little longer, savoring the warm comfort of Joel’s presence beside you, enjoying how it makes you feel. It feels too damn good after all the years of loneliness and fear. You can’t deny that you are feeling things for Joel. He is an attractive man, there is no doubt there, but there is more to it. The glimpses you have gotten of who he is behind the gruff facade, the man he must once have been, has made you yearn to get to know more of that side of him. The way he always makes sure you and Ellie are feeling safe. The way he over time has softened up a bit. How he sometimes will go along with Ellie’s shenanigans. How he will tell you that he will take the first night shift, but then never wake you so you get to sleep the whole night. You have scolded him for this numerous times, but he still does it whenever he senses that you are just a little more tired than usual.

You try to ease out of his embrace without waking him, but it only results in him hugging you tighter, pressing you closer towards him as he lets out a dissatisfied grunt like his subconscious wants you close. And it is now, as you are being pressed tighter up against him that you feel it, the press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass. You let out a little gasp, as a hot shiver travels from your abdomen down to your now throbbing cunt.

You know that it’s just a physical reaction to have a body this close, he didn’t even want to share the bed with you in the first place, but you had insisted on it. As much as you dread having to face him in this position, you really should wake him.

“Joel.” You whisper, moving your hand over the arm he has around you, gently brushing your fingers over the warm skin, waiting for him to wake. He stirs a little against your touch, but he does not loosen his grip on you. You hold your breath, feeling your pulse throb in your ears as you wait for a reaction. You just hope this won’t make him go back to being as closed off with you as he was in the beginning. You take a deep breath to brace yourself before you turn around in his grip so the two of you are laying face to face. Your movement seems to finally have pulled him out of his sleep. His eyes start to blink slowly as he is pulled out of his slumber, he murmurs your name, voice rough and raspy from sleep and it makes your heart skip a beat.

His eyes are finally opening to look into yours, the warm umber of his irises is so beautiful, you have never seen them this near. His face is so close. You can see every detail, every crease and he is so damn gorgeous. Your mouth is so close to his, it would be so easy to just lean in and connect your lips in a kiss. You feel Joel’s body stiffening as he realizes the position the two of you are in, and you are scared that he will bolt out of the bed and leave you cold and alone, but he doesn’t. The two of you are simply laying in silence for a long moment, looking at each other in the dim room, both of you engulfed by the other, but you finally collect enough composure to break the silence between you.

“Good morning.” You whisper into the quiet bedroom.

“Morning.” His voice is so deep and still rough from sleep. It makes your stomach do a flip. Maybe it is just wishful thinking but you swear that his eyes swift down to your lips for a second. Maybe it’s just time to be brave? You reach your hand up toward his cheek, letting your palm hover about half an inch from his skin. You want him to decide for himself if he is comfortable with your touch. Fortunately, after only a short moment of hesitation, he leans into your hand, exhaling as your palm cups his cheek. You kind of expect him to pull away any minute, but he doesn’t.

“I haven’t slept this well in a long time.” You confess.

“Me neither.” You have never heard his voice this soft before and that is when it dawns on you. This is Joel Miller. Not the man that has had to survive in a world with no hope, or the man that has lost everything that made him whole. Right now you are looking into the eyes of the man he once must have been. And maybe right now you’re the woman you were meant to be, the woman you would have been if your future hadn’t been torn away from you by the collapse of the world. There is something magnetic about it. Like the two of you are being pulled together by an invisible force, drawn together in the early morning bliss, both of you learning into earth other. Your lips brush, a ghost of a touch. He shivers but he is still not pulling away.

“Can I?” He whispers, his soft breath fanning over your lips.

“Please.” You manage to croak out, your entire body buzzing with anticipation.

It is all he needs to hear before he crashes into you, his chapped lips colliding with yours. It has been too long since you have felt the firm pressure of a man’s mouth on yours. You kiss until your lungs start to burn, and you have to pull away to catch your breath. His hand moves down to the hem of your shirt, his fingers ghosting over the warm skin beneath it.

“Is this okay?” He asks, sounding a little unsure.

“Yes, Joel.” You assure him. “Kiss me.” You add and he does, sliding his hand under the cotton of your shirt palming the soft skin of your side. You moan into his mouth as his tongue meets yours. You kiss until you no longer know where he starts and you end and you are almost convinced that the two of you have melded into one being.

“You’re driving me crazy.” He pants out as he finally breaks the kiss. All you can manage is to whimper in response as he moves his lips to your throat, licking and kissing a trail to the side of your neck. His hand slowly slides down from your side to the hem of your pants.

“Do you want me to stop?” He murmurs into the skin just below your ear, before sitting up just slightly to look into your eyes.

“No.” You shake your head slightly. “Please don’t stop, Joel.”

You roll your hips a little, grinding against his strong thigh, needing him to understand how badly you want this. Something flickers in his eyes and he lets out a filthy guttural groan, flipping you over so you're laying under him.

Your entire body is aflame by his touch, a feral urge for more. More skin, more contact. So you move onto his shirt. The material slightly withered and moth-eaten from the years of being tucked away in a drawer. You pull it off him, revealing his broad upper body. You pause, captivated by the look of him hovering over you. The scars across his skin, the sparse hairs trailing down from his navel to his pants.

You wonder if he shaking because he’s cold or if he’s really just that eager for your touch. But it doesn’t really matter, either way, you’ll warm him up.

He slides his calloused fingers over the sensitive skin of your thighs, hooking them in the waistband of your panties, looking into your eyes. You nod at him, mouthing a ‘please’, spreading your legs a bit further. It is all he needs, an expression of filthy desire flickers over his face as he pulls your underwear down. Letting out a gasp as your soaked pussy gets exposed in front of him. His fingers slide along the insides of your wet lips.

“Shit, you’re so wet. All this just for me?” He almost coo.

“Yeah. All for you, Joel.”

“Wanna feel you come on my fingers.”

“Fuck, want that too.” You whimper.

He gives you a smile, dipping his head down to your shoulder, nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck before kissing the soft skin under your ear. He makes sure to coat his fingers in your wetness before he begins to tease your clit. You let out a little gasp as he starts to draw slow light circles, but it doesn’t take long for him to pick up his pace and add a bit of pressure.

He teases your entrance, making sure to coat his fingers in your slickless before he slips one of his thick fingers into you. Another is soon added and you sigh at the sensation. He slowly pumps into you at first, giving you time to adjust to his digits, but he is soon picking up the pace.

“That’s right darling.” He mutters against your neck. “Taking my fingers so well.”

He is going fast now, using his middle and index finger to fuck you while the ruff pad of his thumb is pressing on your clit and you can’t help but let out a few pathetic whines. He is hitting a perfect spot, so deep inside of you, and you feel your orgasm approaching, finally falling over the edge when he curls his fingers.

“That’s right, just like that.” Joel groans as you clench around his fingers, slowing his pace slightly but still pumping you through your orgasm in a steady rhythm. “Just like that, darling, doing so well.”

He lets you ride out your climax on his fingers until he finally pulls out of you, popping them into his mouth, sucking off your juices with a pleasant moan.

“Fuck, Joel.” You pant out as you finally come down from your amazing high.

“Good?” He asks, a sly smile on his lips.

“Really good.” You ensure him, cupping his cheek with a gentle hand. “Want to make you feel good too.” You whisper, looking deeply into his eyes.

“Fuck, darling. I want to feel you so bad.” He confesses.

“Want that too. Fuck, want that so bad” You pant, letting your thumb slide over his cheek as you admire his handsome face. And you do want him, but more than that, you need him.

He lifts himself from you to strip off his pants and underwear. Your eyes widen at the view of him. His hard cock springs free, throbbing and thick, laying heavy in his palm as he takes himself in his hand. It still looks huge, even in his big hand, so you can’t even imagine how enormous it will look in your smaller one. He pumps himself a few times before leaning down over you again. He guides his cock to your entrance, looking at you for permission, which you give with an eager nod, before slowly pushing inside you, stretching your pussy to its limits the deeper he goes. You feel so full, like he is splitting you open with his thick girth. You whimper as you take more and more of his cock until he is all the way in.

“Fuck darling, you’re so warm, so fucking tight around me.” He groans before leaving a firm kiss on your lips. The two of you are laying like this for a little while, letting you adjust to his size until you can’t take it anymore.

“Move.” Your voice is low and rasped. “Please.”

With that, he lifts your legs, making you cross them around his lower torso as he pulls out of you, achingly slow until only the head of his cock is still inside of you before inserting all of it again in one fluid motion. You let out a gasp of pleasure.

He starts out with a slow rhythmical pace. He is giving you sweet praise at first, then progressively dirtier, more lustful comments as he loses himself more and more, his thrusts getting faster and more desperate. He lets out a throaty groan as your hands grab his hair. The way he is now pounding his cock into you, deep and purposefully, makes you cry out in pleasure, your ears filling with his growls and moans.

“Feeling so so good…” He says his eyes clenched tightly shut as he keeps thrusting into you with a savage speed. “I knew you would feel good, but damn.” He groans through gritted teeth. Joel is now moving with an urgency that has you seeing stars and you let out a cry of pleasure.

“Shhh.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your lips to quiet you. Ellie is, unlike you and Joel, a deep sleeper, but you would both be mortified if she heard the two of you, not wanting to traumatize the poor girl.

“You are taking me so well.” He encourages. “So fucking good.”

Your arms are desperately clinging to his back. His balls are hitting your skin and his cock is pounding into your soaked pussy, making a filthy squelching noise hit your ears.

The pressure is beginning to build up in your lower stomach, the feeling is making your head go dizzy. He is bringing you closer and closer with every strong thrust of his cock.

“I-fuck… I'm close.” You babble.

The knot in your stomach tightens and tightens until it all explodes inside you. Your walls clench down around him, sucking him in. You desperately cling to him as your climax washes over you, hands on his neck as you guide his mouth down to yours, you need him to kiss you through this. Your breasts are being squeezed against his chest, the feeling of his skin against your sensitive nipples makes you moan into his mouth.

You whine out as you feel the warmth of his release filling you up.

“Shit, shit, shit.” He detaches from your mouth. The panic from cumming inside you is clear on his face. He pulls out, some of his load landing on your stomach, but most of it still inside of you, the sudden empty feeling makes you let out a little whine.

“Shit, I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

You know that he is right, he really shouldn’t have done it, but you can’t get mad at him you had been just as caught up in the feeling of him as he had been in you. You finished your cycle only a couple of days ago so you should hopefully be okay.

You cup his cheek, planting a soft kiss on his lips. “I think we should be okay, just don’t make a habit of it.” You grin at him.

He visibly relaxes at your words “I’ll make sure to pull out next time.” He assures you and your stomach flutters. Next time. You smile at his words.

“How do you feel?” He asks.

“Good.” You laugh lightly, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I liked seeing this side of you.”

He sighs as he pulls you close. His chest vibrates against you as he speaks. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller/reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller angst

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axelsagewrites · 7 months

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Bjorn Ironside*Captured

Pairing: bjorn x f!rival!reader

Kinktober Day nineteen: choking with Bjorn Ironside – you may have been captured by the enemies, but the punishment Bjorn gives you is starting to feel like a reward

Word count: 1818

Warnings: bjorn capturing you, imprisonment, fighting/sparing, not extreme violence though, making out, fingering, very slight nipple play, semi public sex, p in v sex, choking, teasing, size kink, smut 18+

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You could feel his eyes on you, but you refused to turn around and meet them. His feet dragged against the dry dirt ground till he was able to lean his tree trunk of a body against a wall, his gaze still hot on your skin.

“Well, well, well,” his lips taunted, and it took everything in you not to try kick at him but with your hands tied behind your back you knew it was a lost cause. Maybe if you managed to grab his axe but no, not yet “What do we have here?” you could hear his feet begin to drag again.

The tree was hard against your back, inescapable with how they had bound your wrists behind your back before leashing you to its trunk. As Bjorn walked to stand in front of you, your eyes moved to look at an empty patch of ground, his boots in the corner of your eyes.

“My, my, your quiet now little one,” his voice gritted through your ears like a father taunting his child. He even crouched down as if to speak to one, his elbows resting on his knees as his eyes bore into your skull, “Too afraid to even look at me,”

“I’m not afraid of you,” you spat out before you could think. A small chuckle escaped his throat, “Your men fight dirty,”

“My men fight like men,” he said, as if he’d called the sky blue, “Not my fault you weren’t good enough,”

“Five men against one? Hardly seems fair,” you laughed, finally meeting his cold blue eyes. “Especially when they come into my tent when even the moon had left the sky,”

“You should have had someone on guard,” he said, standing up as if he was going to walk away.

You scoffed at his antics making him pause, “You ambushed me. Me against you? I’d be gone before you found where I stuck my knife,”

Bjorn laughed this time, a deep laugh from the pits of his belly as he sauntered back to you, “Really little bird? You think you could fight me? Me?” he repeated, gesturing to himself as he laughed which only made the fire in your belly grow hotter, “Tell you what little one. I untie you, we fight, I win, I tie you back up assuming you’re not dead by the end of it,”

You rolled your eyes as he crouched back down in front of you, “And if I win?”

“If you win,” he said, gesturing out with his hands as he looked around, “you are free. I will give you whatever it is your little heart desires,” he said, poking his finger into your chest prompting you to kick his knee to push him away.

Bjorn scowled as he caught his balance, standing over you like a hundred-year-old tree. His scowl would scare most but you just glared up at him, waiting for him to untie you, “Do we have a deal? Or do I need to fight you with no hands?” you asked, cutting off his scowl.

Silently he moved behind you, slicing the ropes making you jump to your feet, turning to face him, “My weapon?” you asked, holding out your hand.

Bjorn smirked, “I said nothing about a weapon little one,” he said before lunging at you.

While Bjorn was large and could probably split someone in half if he wished you were fast. So fast you dodged his lunge, his punches, and his kicks. As he ran at you again you ducked under his arm, running to a nearby branch. You took hold of the cold wood in your hand, pulling yourself up then swinging yourself back, kicking him full force in the chest as he ran for you again.

He was sent spiralling to the ground, a loud thump echoing his fall as a low growl came from his throat. The only thing you’d commend him on is the fact he’d yet to reach for his axe. As he ran for you again you almost got past. That was till his hand caught your hair, sending you spiralling towards the ground.

You rolled out of the fall, an ache coming from your head, but you had to keep going. You grabbed another branch, almost ready to kick again when a large hand wrapped around your ankle. You couldn’t help the squeal as Bjorn pulled you from the tree, sending you back to the dirt, this time moving to cage you in with his arms as he hovered on top of you.

“Your quick,” he panted, trying to catch his breath, “I’ll give you that. But not quick enough,” he teased, leaning down with a smirk.

When you tried to move his large hand wrapped around your neck, gripping the sides of your throat, “I’m not done with you little one,”

“What?” you spat, your hand grabbing at his wrist, “You gonna kill me? Seems like a waste of a good fight,”

“Oh no,” he said, his face moving down even closer, “I had a much better idea in mind,” he said, his hand moving from your throat to your hair, pulling your face up till your lips were brushing, “After all we have a lot in common you and I,” he said, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Like what?” you spat, trying to act like there was not a strange feeling washing over your stomach like butterflies in a cage.

Bjorn chuckled softly, “Like the fact all you can think about is me fucking you senseless,” he teased and for the first time you felt your throat grow dry and the words leave your mind, “Aw cat caught your tongue again? Let’s see if I can find it,” he said and before you could react his lips were pressed against yours.

His kiss was rough, and his chapped lips moved against yours in their own kind of battle. You couldn’t help but kiss back. You told yourself this was for survival, to escape, but the pang between your legs knew it was more than that as your arms reached up around his shoulders to pull him closer.

Bjorn groaned as he grinded his bulge against you and you gasped into the kiss at his size, “What’s wrong little one? Never been with a real man?” he teased.

“Shut up and kiss me you idiot,” you said, reaching for the nape of his neck to pull him back in but you gasped when his hand went back around your throat, “I- “

“No,” Bjorn said, cutting off your stutters as his hand reached for the waist band of your trousers, “I am in charge. Me,” he said, ripping the fabric down your leg, his hand still grasping your throat, “You don’t tell me what to do, got it?” he asked, and you did your best to nod without tightening his grip.

His grip loosened slightly, allowing you to breath in deeper but still enough to hold you down as his fingers slipped between your thighs. “So wet for me,” he praised, running a finger up your slit making you shiver.

You gasped when you felt his ease two fingers in, your hips instinctively bucking for more friction as Bjorn chuckled at your antics, “Such a desperate little thing,” he said, his lips crashing back down on yours as his fingers began to curl inside you. you moaned into the kiss as he moved his thumb over your clit, massaging your bundle of nerves as he fucked you on his fingers.

Bjorn enjoyed each noise, each whimper and whine, as his fingers worked slowly to untie the knot building in your stomach. Just as your body began to twitch, on the verge of your peak his fingers slipped out, a loud whine coming from your throat, “Not yet,” he warned, pulling his own trousers down slightly, “You’ve not earned it yet,” he said as he slipped his hard cock out from the fabric.

You only saw it for a moment, but it was thick, its tip red and angry as he moved to line himself up with your hole. He pushed it in slightly as you bite your lip to deal with the girth stretching you out. It was almost a relief when he pulled it out but less so when a loud tear ripped through the air, and you saw he had torn your top layer to get to your shift. You scowled as he pulled the flimsy fabric down, exposing your breasts to the cold air making your nipples perk up instantly.

He cupped your breast, his thumb flicking against your nub making you bite back a moan, “Such a pretty sight,” he praised, “Can’t make you fall apart you around my cock,” he added, thrusting in suddenly making you gasp as you stretched to take his size.

His eyes screwed shut as he sunk his length in, his head falling into the crook of his shoulder, “Feels so good,” he mumbled, his grip around your throat tightening as he began slow deep thrusts making your toes curl, your hands moving to grip his shoulders, nails sinking into back.

“Fuck,” you cursed, wrapping your legs round his waist making him hit new spots as your eyes rolled back, your peak quickly rebuilding.

His hand slipped between your body, his grip on your throat lessening slightly as his fingers found your clit, rubbing harsh circles on the sensitive bud. You didn’t care who might walk by or try disguise the moans coming from your mouth as you finally hit your peak you’d desperately been chasing. You felt your walls squeeze around him, your toes curling, as your orgasm washed over your body like a tidal wave.

“Fuck,” Bjorn muttered, his hand moving from between your bodies to beside your head. He pushed himself further up, his eyes scanning your frame as his thrusts suddenly sped up. You gasped, still riding out your orgasm as his pace sped up as his eyes focused on your bouncing tits, “Such a pretty little thing,” he grunted, “so fucking tight,” he gasped as your legs pulled him in deeper and he saw a new spark behind your eyes.

It didn’t take long for his own peak to hit and his seed to spill inside you. gasping and panting he let go of your neck, instead using his hands to steady himself above you as his eyes met yours, “Be honest,” he said, his voice hoarse, “you were planning on running when I’d finished weren’t you?” he asked.

You couldn’t help smiling lightly, a chuckle leaving your lips, “Maybe we are alike,” you teased, glancing down at the state you were in, “but I’m afraid I don’t think I could run if I tried,”

“Good,” Bjorn said, leaning down to place a last rough kiss to your lips, “I have far better plans for us,”

#bjorn ironside #bjorn ironside smut #bjorn ironside x reader #bjorn ironside imagine #bjorn imagine #bjorn x reader #bjorn smut #bjorn lothbrok #bjorn lothbrok imagine #bjorn lothbrok smut #bjorn lothbrok x reader #vikings #vikings smut #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #vikings tv

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kodydrs · 7 months

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Blondie’s Bounty - S.Vinsmoke

a/n: can you guys tell I’m very much into blondes? (i gaslight myself into thinking I’m not). I hope everyone had / is having a wonderful day. please reply & reblog, and why not send in a request / ask?

warnings: sanji x bounty!hunter!fem, fxm, sub!sanji, dom!reader, timeskip!sanji, restraints, orgasm denial, oral (f.receiving), face riding, teasing, praise kink (if you’re blind), no use of y/n, not proofread, i’m bad at tagging, (it may be kinda repetitive sorry)

summary: you’re a bounty hunter, and sanji’s a pirate. there’s not much more to it. except he’s been captured, and now he’s tied to your bed.

ib: none

request: yes / no

Sanji struggled against the tight ropes wrapped around his wrists. The ropes that were typing him down to the bed, his hair messy and dress pants crumpled. You glanced at him from your seat at your desk. You’d been cleaning the barrel of your gun, but his constant rustling was making it difficult to concentrate.

‘Stop struggling, Vinsmoke. You can’t break out of them.’ You said, clicking everything back into place. Sanji looked at you and gulped.

You weren’t necessarily a particularly scary bounty hunter. Damn, no female bounty hunter seemed that scary. That’s why you found it difficult to understand why the pirate was so nervous. Sure, you’d captured him and tied him down, but at least you hadn’t turned him in yet.

‘P-Please, madam… I’m sorry.’ His words barely came out above a whisper, but they were clear enough for you to understand what he meant. He was in a vulnerable state right now, like an animal that had caught itself in its own trap.

You placed down your gun and pushed your chair back, walking over to the edge of the bed he was tied to.

‘Shut up.’ You spat, grabbing his face. He replied with a quiet “Yes ma’am.” and you threw his face away

Sanji’s heart was racing 100m/ph, beating hard in his chest as if it was trying to escape through his skin. You sighed at the blond, crawling over him and straddling his hips. Teasingly, you pulled your shirt over your head, swaying your hips a little as you did. Might as well put on a show. You watched the pirates expression contort from fear to something else.

He let out a soft whine when you pulled your shirt off, his eyes growing darker and his pulse quickening even more. He could practically feel your heat radiating from your core, making him sweat with desire. It wasn’t often an attractive woman such as yourself would find herself atop the Straw Hat chef.

You leaned down to whisper in his ear, feeling your tits press against his bare chest.

‘I should be turning you into the marines to collect your bounty, but I wanna play with you first.’ You felt him shiver under your touch, his breathing coming fast and shallow. Every muscle tensed beneath his skin and a low moan escaped his slightly trembling lips.

‘Now. Because I’m kind, I’ll let you cum before you make me.’ You planted a kiss on his cheek before shuffling down so you were face to face with the growing buldge in his pants. His eyes widened as he followed yours and it made his cock twitch in anticipation from how close you were. He knew your plan now, and that only aroused him more.

With nimble fingers, you undid his belt, pulling down the material sitting on his hips to reveal his aching member.

‘Excited, are we, blondie?’ You mocked. He whined softly, his hips jerking slightly as you exposed him. He was already leaking precum, throbbing with each beat of his heart. You traced your finger along the prominent vein on his shaft, teasing the poor and helpless man. ‘Use your words, Vinsmoke.’

‘Y-Yes.’ He whimpered softly, biting his lip as your hands travelled over his skin. He groaned loudly as you teased his sensitive tip, making his body shake with need. Never in his life had he been this turned on.

‘Good boy.’ You cooed, rubbing the precum over his slit.

‘God.’ The cook cried out, back arching. The feeling was sending waves of pleasure through his entire being, making him tremble uncontrollably. You could tell by how much he was struggling not to cum right then and there that he really did want it. ‘Please…’

It was making you wet how easily you had this man begging under your touch. The man with a 1.032 billion berry bounty crumbling to pieces, begging breathlessly. He must’ve felt like such an idiot begging for something when he should just take it. But somehow, hearing those words come from his own mouth sent shivers down his spine.

You grinned, kissing his tip softly.

‘Do you wanna cum, Sanji?’

‘Please… y-yes please.’ He stuttered, his voice cracking with need. He knew it wasn’t the right way to act, but he truly couldn’t help himself. He needed release so badly. You hummed, the vibrations meeting his cock.

‘Just hold it a little longer, will you?’ You gripped the base of his cock and slowly spread your lips around him, sinking down. Hollowing your cheeks, you took almost all of him before pulling out till his tip rested upon your lips again. ‘You like that?’

His hips bucked up involuntarily, almost knocking you back. It hurt for him to speak, so he just nodded. “Yes. Yes, Yes. That’s exactly what I want. Please let me cum.” He panted, looking down at you pleadingly. You just smiled, repeating the motion at a slow pace.

‘You’re being such a good boy, blondie.’

He whimpered pathetically, trying not to move too much. He could barely even think straight anymore, all he wanted was to shoot his load and be done with this hellish torture. You squeezed his base again, driving him crazy. He felt as if he was going to pass out from exhaustion and lack of oxygen. He was desperate, begging for permission.

You met eyes, looking at him with a sense of accomplishment. With no further comment, you removed your hands and mouth from him completely, denying his orgasm.

Sanji was on the brink of crying, panting heavily from your denial.

‘No. Please. Let me cum. Please. I’ll do anything.’ You smiled, moving the bed and coming up to kiss his cheek again.

‘Don��t worry, baby. Just wait a little longer, mkay?’ You hummed and shook yourself out of your pants. ‘Be a good boy again and eat my pussy like you mean it, then I’ll let you cum.’

His eyes diverted from your gaze, embarrassed by your request.

‘…ok. just- please let me cum.’

‘That’s what I like to hear.’

You held your headboard as you swung a leg over him so your dripping cunt was situated right above his face. He nodded obediently, licking his lips before swiping his tongue through your folds.

You arch your spine, groaning at the feeling of the pirates tongue on your pussy.

‘Ah yeah. Just like that~.’ You reach a hand down between your legs, gently stroking his hair and guiding his hair. ‘Fuck.’

The pleasure overwhelms him instantly, making him moan into your clit eagerly. His fingers curl around the ropes binding him tightly, holding onto them firmly as he continues eating you out greedily.

‘Mmmmh~!’ His voice muffled by your crotch and he's lost in ecstasy.

‘Oh fuck~!’ You moan, losing yourself to how good he is. ‘H-How did all those women turn you down when you’re so good at your job?’ You reach back, still running a hand through his hair, but using your other to palm his still erect dick. And he’s unable to contain himself any longer. The sensation of being pleasured simultaneously sends him spiraling towards an intense climax. He gasps for air between words, his breathing becoming ragged as he tries desperately to keep going despite how sensitive he is right now. You’re panting aswell now.

‘C-Cun for me, blondie.’ You’re close to your own orgasm, but you’re a woman of your word and you’ll let him cum before you.

With your words, his orgasm hits him like a freight train. His body shudders violently, muscles clenching and unclenching as he cums deeply into the palm of your hand. His moans vibrate against your clit, tempting your own orgasm. He feels you tensing against his face, and without being told, knows exactly what you need. He opens his mouth wide, sucking you in deeply as your climax washes over you. His tongue dances around your clit, licking and sucking every last drop of pleasure out of you. You cover your mouth as you cum, shaking aggressively as you release into Sanji’s mouth. His tongue laps at your pussy hungrily, drinking it all up with relish. He groans softly as you finish, closing his lips tight around your clit once more, sucking on it gently.

You whimper quietly, laying back on his stomach. You’re both spent, and you can’t be bothered getting up yet.

‘Holy fuck.’ With shaky hands, you reach up and undo the rope tying him down to the bed before you fall beside him, one hand resting on his chest. He looks down at you sleepily, smiling contentedly when he sees you there next to him. Your touch calms him greatly, even though he's still pretty worked up from earlier. He brings a hand to your face, a surge of confidence directing him closer til your lips meet. You don’t decline his actions, lazily reciprocating the kisses as he towers over you. Your lips lingers for longer than either of you expected. You feel him tense slightly as he deepens the kiss, but he quickly relaxes again as he breaks away after a few moments. A small smile crosses his lips as he stares into your eyes.

‘I...I think I'm falling for you.’ You smile softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

‘Stupid pirate.’ You whisper before dragging him down into another kiss. He chuckles softly into the kiss, a warmth growing in his heart at your words. He tightens his grip around you as you bring him closer, and you can feel his second erection pressing against your thigh.

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed and an open window. The sun is already high, illuminating the room. You sit up, the cold ocean wind instantly hitting your exposed chest, but you don’t care.

You take a moment to stare at the vacant space on your bed. The space that hadn’t been vacant a few hours ago.

‘Stupid Blondie.’

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sugawhaaa · 1 month

Text

JUNHAN ONE-SHOT

☆"Promise me you'll be quiet,"☆

Pairing::dom!junhan x sub!fem!reader

Warnings::SMUT, VULGAR LANGUAGE

genre:: rushed, fingering, squirting, no protection, public sex (???)

A/N:: this is low key terrible and it's been rotting in my drafts for so long so I may aswell post it.

Junhan and the members were backstage talking with the staff about the outfits for tomorrow and all of the setup and set lists. You stood next to Junhan and you held his hand discreetly. Tomorrow was the start of their Break the Brake world tour and you were there to hype them up while they rehearsed but currently, your hormones had other plans.

As you held Junhan's hand you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together for some friction but all it did was catch Junhan's attention. He is very attentive and he instantly knew what this meant. He bent over to your ear.

"Do you want to go to the dressing room?" He asked calmly and you grinned. You nodded shyly. Junhan notified the others saying that you weren't feeling good so you needed some water and needed to sit down. Once you got into the dressing room Junhan locked the door and threw off his jacket. He crossed his arms with a playful smirk. "Let me guess..." he said softly as you squirmed in front of him.

You sigh. "I was watching you practice and I couldn't take my eyes off you and ugh why is my boyfriend so hot," you whined and Junhan chuckled, unlocking his arms.

"And why do I have such a needy girlfriend," he laughed before playing with your hair. He pulled you into a soft kiss before parting from your lips to speak. "We have to be fast okay?" He said as he started taking off your shirt. "And promise me you'll try to stay quiet?" He smirked knowing that you were terrible at keeping quiet. You nodded and took off your pants. "Do you want to stand or sit?" He asked softly.

"I'll start by standing," you blushed and leaned against the walls. You grabbed the hooks above your head for support. He pulled down your panties and quickly licked his middle finger before easing it inside you. You wanted to scream at the feeling of his ring guard stretching your tight walls but you held back. Little whimpers escaped from the back of your throat as you covered your mouth. Your heart raced as his whole finger slid inside you.

You swallowed harshly as his finger circled inside you. You felt your legs quiver as his finger ran over your G-spot. You grabbed his shirt harshly and clenched the fabric. You threw your head back as his cold ring guard roamed around inside you. He then curled his finger and you moaned loudly. You threw your body onto him and buried your face in his shoulder.

"Shh baby~" he whispered in your ear as his finger went deeper inside you due to the new position.

"I-I'm sorry," you said as you gritted your teeth. He curled his finger along your G-spot and you almost screamed from the pleasure. You held back and clawed at Junhan's shoulder while covering your mouth with the other hand. "Do that again," you stammered "P-please," you whimpered and Junhan smirked. He curled his finger again before uncurling in the same spot.

You clenched around his finger and felt an orgasm building already. He was one finger down and you already felt like collapsing in pleasure. His thumb went to your clit and started rubbing circles lightly. That plus the sensation of his finger curling on your G-spot continuously was enough to make you cum all into Junhans hand. He seemed surprised by this. He removed his finger from you to see cum dripping all down his hand and between your thighs. Your legs were still shaking slightly.

"We're only one finger down and you already came so much," he chuckled before picking you up and setting you down on one of the leather couches. After you got comfortable he inserted two fingers into you. You arched your back and grabbed onto the couch's arms. He slowly pulled his fingers back out before pushing them back in quickly. He continued to do this before building a nice pace. You bit your wrist to suppress your moans when you heard the drums and a guitar from the stage.

"Junhan. They started practicing-ah!" You started talking before he hit your G-spot harshly. "C-Can I moan now?" You blushed as he continued to thrust his fingers into you. He chuckled at how desperate you were to moan.

"Sure," he smirked and you instantly let loose. You moaned loudly as you felt a knot tightening in your stomach. Junhan used his spare hand to run circles along your clit again. He watched you as he bit his lip, admiring how you co-operate for him. You arched your back up into his hand before finally releasing. Moaning loudly. He took his fingers out to find your cum dripping down from your legs onto the black leather couch.

He worried a bit about how he was gonna cover that up but that was a future Junhan problem. Right now his main concern was being able to fuck you senseless. He wasn't usually this eager to be so intimate with you but something was different in him. Junhan rubbed his finger up and down your folds before kneeling down.

"Junhan?" You bit your nail as you looked down at him. The sight turned something on inside Junhan. He sucked your clit as he gave you a look that said "Yes baby?" You blushed as your legs tried to jerk shut. "I want you inside me..." you blushed. He looked at you surprised. Throughout your relationship, you had never had actual sex in a somewhat public. It was just mouths, and hands but you wanted to take the next step. If he was ready of course.

His lips left your body and his hands held your thighs as he thought about your proposal. "If you want to," he smiled at you and your heart beat out of your chest. You nodded and Junhan stood up. You positioned yourselves on the couch accordingly and Junhan seemed so nervous as he loomed over you. "Tell me if it hurts," he said as he lined up his tip to your entrance. "You ready?" He asked you worriedly.

"Yes," you nodded and he slowly entered you. His cock was so big it stretched your walls quickly. You moaned loudly and grabbed onto Junhan's long black hair as you gritted your teeth.

"You okay?" He said as he stopped moving into you. You nodded with a whimper.

"Keep going," you blushed as you moved your hands to his shoulders, clawing at his skin. He threw his head back and seethed through his teeth.

"Damn the members are gonna scold me for this," he chuckled before leaning down to kiss your neck softly. You grabbed his shoulders again and your nails dug into his back. He let out a soft groan at the feeling. "I need to go practice," he said hoarsely with desperate eyes.

"Just a little longer please," you whined as you grabbed his shirt harshly. Junhan let out a scoff that basically told you he wasn't even thinking about leaving you yet. You felt a knot building in your stomach as he continued to bury himself into your G-Spot. You arched your back off the couch, rutting your hips into his. "Fuck! Yes," you moaned loudly as Junhan breathed heavily. "I'm close," you whimpered as you felt yourself clench around him.

"Me too," he whimpered before pounding into you and finally the band in your stomach snapped. Your juices sprayed onto Junhan as your body contorted. He quickly pulled out and followed suit, his semen shooting onto your stomach. Junhan covered his mouth in shock at the mess they had created. "I'm sorry," he apologized and looked around for a cloth or something to clean you off with. You grabbed his head and kissed him passionately. You pulled back and smiled at him.

"You need to go practice. Go put your clothes on and I'll worry about this mess," you patted his head and he nodded.

"As long as you're sure. I can help you clean up it's no big deal-" you finger over his lips and shook your head.

"I got this, you always clean up at home. I can handle this," you smiled and Junhan kissed your forehead quickly before collecting up his clothes. He swiftly put everything on and rushed out the door. You looked at the couch and sighed. How were you supposed to "handle this"

Junhan went out on the stage and put his guitar on over his head and the members looked confused.

"Are you okay?" Jungsu asked, turning to junhan.

"Mhm, why?" Junhan smiled and tilted his head.

"Your face is red and you're kinda...sweating," Gaon said looking back at Junhan. Junhan put his hand to his forehead.

"I was running onto the stage because I was late that's probably it," he shrugged and looked down at his guitar.

"Your shirt is wet too," Jungsu pointed out and Junhans face grew red as he looked down at his shirt.

"I spilt some water," he chuckled awkwardly and the members raised a brow.

"Why do I not believe you," gaon smirked before turning around to play his guitar.

#xdinary heroes #xdh imagines #xdh smut #xdinari hero fanfic #xdinary heroes fluff #xdh #xdh fluff #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes reactions #xdinary heroes x reader #xdinary heroes junhan #xh junhan #junhan

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asumofwords · 10 months

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Public sex, voyeurism, female recieving oral, male masturbation.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies, I am here to feed you all. I've written ahead, and oh boy, getting emotional because soon (not too soon, don't worry, we have about 20 chapters left or so) this amazing lil journey will be coming to an end! Again, I want to thank you all as usual for you unwavering support, love and kind words. Truly means the world to me. You are all so sweet !

I have also been writing a lil Modern!Aemond story series and have plenty more ideas in the tank that I'm excited to write hehe. So might be a new fic drop soon :P. Anyway, ENJOY! <3

Chapter 83: Desperation

The next morning, Aemond decided to spend his day with you again, his unease from Aegon’s visit the day before setting him on edge. You spent the beginning of your day beneath him, soft kisses being pressed to your lips as he held you tightly against his firm body. Your small apology seeming to have softened his touches once more.

Breakfast was eaten together, as always, and you smiled when he told you that he would be spending the day with you.

“I was going to spend the day in the library reading, perhaps send another letter to Baela and Jacaerys.” You dabbed your lips with the napkin.

“Have you finished ‘The Loves of Queen Nymeria’ ?” Aemond asked, setting down his cutlery as he finished the food on his plate.

Leaning back in your chair you smiled, “I did. Why? Did you wish to read it?”

“I think I might.”

You let out a soft laugh, “I never would have thought I would see the day when Aemond Targaryen wants to read a book on the lovers of a woman.”

Aemond tilted his head, “What makes that so unbelievable?” He asked, sounding almost offended.

You mirrored his posture, “You who is possessive to the point of aggression? Wants to learn about a woman who had taken multiple lovers?”

“Hm.”

“Hm.” You parroted him, standing up and moving to his side of the table, “Come, I want to read.”

And read you did not.

Not too long after you perused the isles of books to find a new one to read, Aemond had pressed himself against your back, hands splayed on your hips as he dipped his head to kiss at your neck.

“Aemond,” You hissed, “Insatiable beast.” You swatted at his hands, trying to wriggle from his hold.

Aemond only chuckled and pressed his clothed cock against your backside, a low groan falling from his lips. Your skin felt alight as arousal burst through you.

“We shouldn’t.” You whispered, pushing back against him.

“Why?” Aemond gathered your skirts at your front as you pushed back against him.

“Someone might see.”

Aemond hummed as he dragged his hand between your thighs, fingers diving between your folds, finding them already wet. “I think you like the idea of someone finding us.”

A quiet gasping moan left your lips as he swirled his fingers around your bud, nipping at the skin where your shoulder meets your neck, your hands behind you gripping the material of his breeches, unsure if you were pushing him away or pulling him closer. His long fingers dipped into your wetness before bringing it back up, soothing circles over your bud.

“Fuck.” You whined quietly, hips bucking into his touch.

“Perhaps Ser Cole may find us again.” Aemond teased, and your stomach clenched, head lolling back onto his shoulder as he let two fingers push inside of you.

“You like that don’t you? The idea of being watched? Getting caught?” He teased, dragging his fingers in and out of your heat. You bit your lip to stop you from making any noise, but your walls clamped down on his digits at his words.

“Such a filthy girl you are. Who knew that my sweet wife was so debaucherous.”

You hummed, shutting your eyes tightly as he continued to drag pleasure through you, your hands clutching against the shelf, fingers digging into the hard wood for purchase. Every drag of his fingers caused slick to gather in his palm.

Aemond suddenly spun you around, pushing your back against the shelf, hand ripping out of your centre.

“Need to taste you.” He breathed, before moving down to his knees, hiking a leg over his shoulder as he dove his mouth onto you.

“Fuck.” You whined, gripping his hair in your hands, his expert tongue already swirling over your sensitive bud.

Aemond continued to lap at your core as soft whimpers fell from your lips, a hand flying to your mouth to bite at your fingers, desperate to suppress the sound you made. But Aemond was relentless, grabbing your hand and tugging it away from your face.

“Want to hear you.” He groaned into your cunt, and your head fell backwards against the shelf, books sliding to their side as he slid two fingers back into your core, licking and sucking at your pearl.

Pleasure wound its way inside of your gut and your heart raced in your chest at the thought of someone finding you in your compromised position. Aemond began to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace, and you could not stop the long whine that flew from your chest as his fingers brushed against the spongey spot within you.

“Aemond.” You moaned, writhing your hips up to meet his face as he licked and prodded at your core.

He grunted in approval and continued, speeding up his ministrations as he felt your core begin to tighten around his digits. You squeezed your eyes shut as he sucked your pearl into his mouth, tongue swirling around it wetly.

Prickles moved over your skin, and you felt your peak begin to rise.

“I’m close.” You warned Aemond, which only spurred his movements further, the sound of your wet centre filling the space of the library.

You moved your head to look at him, opening your eyes.

A cry broke from your lips as you locked eyes with a pair of violet ones behind Aemond.

Aemond thought your cry was due to his pleasuring, his tongue and fingers on you, and hummed against your folds. You felt yourself clamp around Aemond’s fingers as he fucked them into you harder and faster, your thighs wet with arousal.

You were frozen.

Staring at the King.

You kept Aegon’s lustful gaze, his lips parted in arousal as he watched you.

Your peak ripped through you suddenly, ecstasy racing through your body as you whimpered loudly into the library, grabbing Aemond’s head with your hands tugging him closer to you as Aegon watched.

Your heart was racing in your chest.

How long had he been there?

“Aemond.” Your voice cracked, still looking at your oldest uncle who took a few steps back silently, standing beside the shelves behind the Prince. Aegon smirked as he watched you twitch, Aemond pressing wet kisses to your thighs before rising up to his full height.

“What?” Aemond asked, catching your eyes as you looked at him, cheeks flushed.

You thought for a beat.

Do you tell him?

Perhaps.

“Need you.” You whimpered, mind made, pulling Aemond in for a searing kiss, Aegon still watching from behind.

Pervert.

Aemond kept hold of your thigh and brought up to his hip, unlacing the front of his breeches whilst his head dipped to kiss the tops of your breasts in your gown, flesh sensitive to the touch. All the while you kept your silent battle of gaze with Aegon, who’s hand slipped down to the front of his breeches, pressing against the straining material in front of his cock.

“Perfect, wet, little cunny.” Aemond groaned as he freed his cock from his breeches, rubbing the head through your slick folds.

You gasped loudly, bucking your hips forward as you pulled him in against you with your leg. In one swift thrust, Aemond entered you, and you let out a loud cry in the library, putting on a show for Aegon.

Let him think he has you.

Aemond began to thrust into you, head tucked into your neck as you held him against you, moaning loudly with each thrust as the sloppy sound of your arousal echoed around you. Aegon had loosened the ties on his own breeches, and stuck a hand down the front.

Disgust wormed its way inside of you, and yet also a strange plucking of delight.

Perhaps Aemond was right, you did like being watched.

Aegon pumped himself in time with Aemond’s thrusts, lip caught between his teeth as he held back any noises. Noises that you still heard to this day. Noises that haunted you.

But right now?

You had power.

You were in control.

And it was exhilarating.

Aemond’s thrusts sped up, his cock bullying your cervix and the bone of his pelvis brushing against your overstimulated bud, your second release winding within you rapidly. You kissed at the side of Aemond’s hair as you watched Aegon pull his cock from his pants, tip red and angry.

Your mouth hung open as the coil within you wound tighter and tighter, Aemond’s hips becoming sloppier by the second as he chased his high. A hand moved to squeeze your breast and you gasped loudly, the flesh tender. Aemond immediately moved his hand away back to your thigh.

“S’close.” You slurred, fingers digging into Aemond’s back as Aegon sped up his hand, “Need you, kepus. Need your seed.” You kept your eyes on Aegon.

Kepus.

Aegon.

Aemond.

The Prince moaned and his hand moved to grasp the skin under your ass, spreading you out on him as a finger moved to rub against your puckered hole gently. Sparks shot up your spine at the unfamiliar feeling, and that was all it took for you to tumble over the edge a second time.

Blinding white pleasure coursed through you as you kept your gaze on Aegon, watching as his mouth became slack, his seed spilling into his closed fist at his tip, cheeks bright red and hair tousled.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Aemond grunted before he reached his peak, hot ropes of his seed painting your walls.

Your head fell back against the books as you all breathed heavily, the smell of sex filling the library, overpowering the smell of parchment. You could feel Aemond’s cock twitching inside of you as you clenched around his length, his head buried in your shoulder, wet kisses being pressed to where he had bitten down on your flesh.

Slowly Aemond pulled back, softly pulling out of you with a whine, before straightening his back to look at you. His lips were swollen and pupil blown out.

You gave him a lazy smile, willing your heart to stop jumping out of your chest. Slowly, he bent his head down to press his lips against yours, kissing you sweetly. You could taste the subtle tang of yourself on his tongue.

It made you feel nauseous knowing that you had an uninvited guest who watched over you.

But this was what you needed.

When you looked back over Aemond’s shoulders, the King was gone.

You had read together by the chaise after, kisses stolen from each other, and glances thrown around the library to see if Aegon was still there watching, hiding amongst the many rows of books and tomes, but he was nowhere to be found.

A small piece of guilt ate at you, but you quickly squashed it.

This was what you needed to do.

When the two of you returned back to your chambers, there was a letter in the centre of your table waiting for you, a red rose placed on top.

A letter from the King.

Inviting you to dine with him and the council that evening.

Aemond in his insecurity, and sudden bout of jealousy ever since Aegon had made his presence more demanding, pulled you onto his lap at the table, exposing your centre and sinking into it with a single thrust.

He fucked you on the chair as you rode atop him, clutching his shoulders for grip as you whined.

“Want my seed to be dripping from your cunt when we dine tonight.”

You tumbled over the edge again for the third time that day.

By the time you went to the Small Dining Hall for dinner, you were exhausted, thoroughly fucked out and body aching. You did not know if you could continue the way the two of you did, every inch of you was sensitive and ached, and all you wanted to do in that moment was sleep.

You kissed Aemond gently before you entered the Hall, and whispered into his ear, “I can feel your seed dripping from my cunt.”

And you could.

Aemond tutted as the doors were opened, “So wasteful with a gift from a Prince.” He whispered, the two of you taking slow steps towards the table as you were announced to the room, “Kessa emagon naejot leghagon ao bē arlī tolī.” Will have to fill you up again later.

You smirked, eyes meeting the King. A blush creeped across your face and you looked down shyly before responding to Aemond.

“Gaomagon ao pendagon kostā jikagon arlī?” Do you think you can go again?

“Lēda ao? Va moriot.” With you? Always.

You sat down side by side, Aemond pulling out your chair for you to sit in and helping to tuck you in after, Aegon’s gaze not leaving yours once, smirk pulling at his pink lips. A familiar face caught your attention at the table.

Lord Jason Lannister.

He was still here.

He sat at the end of the table, Maester Orwyle on one side, Lord Jasper Wylde on the other. His straw blond hair sat brushed and tucked behind his ears, and the red and gold tunic he wore was embroidered with large standing lions.

Jason, catching your gaze, bowed his head to you and smiled.

“How goes the Dragon Pit for Casterly Rock, My Lord?” You inquired from across the table, Aemond humming beside you in irritation.

“I have sent word for some of the finest stonemasons in all the realm. Of course, all would have to wait until a daughter is born.”

“Of course. We should discuss possibilities later.” You smiled, turning away to look back at Aegon as the rest of the table chatted amongst themselves.

When the food was placed upon the table, Alicent said her prayer to the Seven as she always did, and this time, you bowed your head, sliding your eyes to look at Aemond beside you, who’s own was diligently shut.

The table was loud with conversation and eating as the Lords spoke amongst themselves and the King drank from his cups deeply.

Aemond spoke to you quietly in High Valyrian, careful to not rouse the attention of Aegon, "Gaomagon ao drējī pendagon nyke'd ivestragī īlva tala dīnagon zȳhon tresy?” Do you truly think I'd let our daughter marry his son?

“Daor. Yn iksis ziry daor kirimves naejot ūndegon zirȳla pendagon konīr iksis?” No. But is it not fun to see him think there is? You smiled at him cheekily.

Aemond’s lips twitched, “You are a cruel, merciless little thing.”

“Ao jorrāelagon ziry.” You love it.

“Gaoman.” I do.

Jason Lannisters voice moved across the table to Aegon.

“I have heard word from Ser Amos Bracken about some interesting rumours in the North.”

The North?

All attention was on Jason Lannister.

Aegon placed his goblet down on the table, leaning back in his chair to look at the Lord.

“And what are these interesting rumours?” Aegon asked lazily.

Jason’s eyes flitted to you, then back to Aegon as though he was considering not speaking of such things in front of you. But at the King’s prompting hand, Jason began.

“Well for one, House Blackwood still holds the Bracken lands, and has their and the Blacks banners seated atop the Keeps.”

Aegon pouted, pulling his ale back to himself to take a gulping sip.

“And what’s more,” The Lord of Casterly Rock continued, “Is that there has been word of a orange and green dragon sighted flying to and from the North.”

Vermax.

Jacaerys.

“It’s been seen at the Green Fork of the Trident, House Frey’s seat. But of course, Rhaenyra’s son being witnessed to treat with their allies is not an unusual thing. Prince Aemond goes to treat with Houses Swyft, Reyne, Crakehall.” Rivers, “But thats not all of what Ser Amos came to the Golden Tooth to tell me.”

You wished he would get to the point.

Aegon sighed, “Spit it out, Lannister.”

“Rhaenyra has freed the North.”

Laughter rung amongst the table, the Lords looking at one another as they guffawed. Even Aegon laughed loudly, holding up his ale in mock toast before he drained the dregs of his cup, holding it out for a server to come fill it again.

“Freed the North?” Aegon chuckled, “Her largest supporters?”

Lannister beamed at the attention he was getting, his information seemingly delighting the King, “Oh yes, she’s given word to Cregan Stark that she has no wish to rule over free people. Given them their autonomy back.”

Lord Jasper Wylde shook his head, “Princess Rhaenyra-“

“Queen Rhaenyra.” You corrected him stiffly.

Jasper turned to look at you as he continued to speak, “Has undone what only King Aegon the Conqueror could achieve. How many times did Lords and Kings try to claim the North? And how many times did it fail? The only reason why we had the North was because of dragons, and now she has set them free? Whats to say they won’t rebel against us all?”

“Who’s to say that they will?” You argued, “The North has been given no reason to attack the rest of the Kingdoms.” Feeling defensive for your mothers choice you continued, “In fact, I think the Queen’s option to give the North back has bolstered a relationship of peace.” You looked around the table, only to find Aegon smirking at you.

Jason Lannister chuckled pitifully at you, your head snapping to him, “The North was the only thing that gave your mother power.”

“My mother and her many dragons and supporters.” You snipped, “And if my brother is seen to be often flying to treat with the North, then I would say their relationship still stands.”

“She’s given the men a way out.”

“House Stark gave their oath to my mother.”

“I know other Houses that did the same thing.”

“And turncloaks they are.” You snipped, “There has never been a Stark who has broken their oath.”

Jason leant back in his chair and laughed heartily, head tipped back, even Otto Hightower chuckled from the side of Aegon, his tired eyes looking at you with mirth.

“All men can break their oaths.”

“All men are not Starks.”

“Perhaps you should have been wed to to the Stark boy, what’s his name?” Aegon laughed, “Crepan? Credan?”

“Lord Cregan Stark.” You spoke calmly, “And my hand was to be offered to him. But I decided against it.”

Jason Lannisters laugh sounded more like a squawk or a squeal, “And here you are. You could have been up in the North with the mudmen freezing your bits off.”

“The North would not have wanted to be used as a bartering piece in war. What my mother has done was the right thing. The Starks were and are the Kings of the North.”

“Kings of ice and snow.”

“Kings no less.”

"I don’t recognise the Northerners of having Kings.” Aegon smirked.

“And I’m sure others don’t recognise you as theirs. And yet it still stands.”

Aegon clapped his hands loudly and beamed at you, teeth showing as he grinned.

“Tell me brother, you’re well read on the history and politics of the realm. You’ve always had that nose of yours stuck in books. What do you think of this all? Do you think our sister made the right choice?”

The chambers were quiet as all waited for Aemond’s response. Alicent had her elbows on the table, hands clasped in front of her face as she tried to sneakily and unnoticeably bite at her nails in habit. Otto looked genuinely interested in what Aemond had to say, but Aegon was clearly up to no good.

The Prince pursed his lips, tongue in his cheek as he thought, watching his brother.

“We don’t know what freeing the North means for the rest of us.” He began and you felt your heart sink, “It’s true that Aegon the First was the only one to have ever conquered the North. Their lands are stretching, Houses and alliances ancient and new, not to mention, the North is a most inhospitable land to live in, let alone wage and win a war against.”

You breathed heavily in your nose, teeth grinding together, your hands in tight fists in your lap.

If Aegon had freed the North all would have applauded him for his bravery. But all laughed and mocked your mother because she was a woman.

“As for freeing the North?” Aemond’s voice became louder, “I think it was the smartest move Rhaenyra could have made.”

Your head snapped to your husband, staring at him in disbelief.

Had he just agreed with you?

Aegon scoffed, eyebrows high on his face. Jason Lannister and Jasper Wylde laughed softly and shook their heads.

“If we know anything about the North and their people, we know that they do not recognise the rest of the Kingdom’s unless forced to. The North bent the knee to Aegon the First, and who is to say they would continue to listen to another foreign ruler from the South? Would you bend the knee to a monarch who you knew naught about? Who you had no similarities to, besides being men? What Rhaenyra has done, is bolster trust and respect. And I daresay that is more powerful than ruling with fear."

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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lillian-gallows · 6 months

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Kinktober Day 27: Double Penetration (In two holes) with Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson

Pairing: Steddie x Fem!reader Word Count: 2660 (It got away from my a little lol) Warnings: DP, Anal (F receving), Vaginal and Anal Fingering, Dirty talk, P in V and P in A sex, Unprotected sex, Aftercare. Kinktober Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

You were a ball of excited nerves, had been all day. Why? You may ask.

Well, that’s because you have a very special surprise for your boyfriends, Steve and Eddie.

The three of you had been official for a little over a year, and had shared many firsts with each other, but there was one that had been put on the back burner for a while, primarily because of the preparation that went into it.

You’d been more than vocal about how much you wanted them to fuck you as the same time, one in the front and one in the back, and they’d both been equally vocal about wanting to do it too, but that problem of needing time to prepare so you didn’t get hurt was always an obstacle.

Well, today was the day. You’d started it by using your fingers to massage all the muscles of your ‘back door’, even going so far as to slip a couple fingers in while stimulating your clit along the way to help feel yourself relaxed.

Then once you were as thoroughly stretched as you could manage on your own, you’d put in a plug. Nothing crazy, not massive or fancy, just enough to both keep you stretched and help the muscles get used to the feeling, it didn’t take long for it to start feeling really good.

Just those steps had used a lot of lube, considering that every source on the topic had basically said ‘When you think there’s enough, add more’ so when you’d used over half a bottle and could barely keep hold of the plug because it was so slick you felt confident that you’d done right.

It was a really good thing that the three of you kept plenty on hand because you were going to need it.

You were planted on the couch watching T.V. when your boys came striding into your shared apartment, all smiles and laughter, the kinds that get when they’ve been teasing each other, it warmed your heart to see it.

“Hi, Beautiful.” Steve said, pressing a kiss to your forehead on his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, Princess!” Eddie chirped, mimicking Steve’s previous action. “How was your day?” He asked cheerfully, entirely unaware of what waited for him.

“Hey, Loves. Great, been thinking about what I want to do for dinner, I’m thinking we might be pretty hungry.” You answered the wild brunette cryptically.

“What makes you say that?” Eddie eyed you with a lifted brow as he moved to sit by you on the couch, plopping down unceremoniously as he always does, causing you to jolt as the movement jostled the couch and therefore jostled you, moving the plug just right to send a shock of pleasure to your core.

“What was that face for?” Came Steve’s inquiry as he stood at the kitchen door, a glass of water in hand. “You okay, Sweetheart?” His worry quickly started to write itself all over his face, ever the mother hen.

“I’m fine, Stevie.” You answered quickly, face flushing a little. “I have a surprise for you two is all…” You answered coyly, looking between the two.

Eddie caught on a lot quicker than Steve as his eyes widened. “Yeah? And what would that be, Princess?” He asked, voice now low and slow.

Steve, bless him, caught the change in Eddie’s tone, but his confusion didn’t cease.

“You remember how we were putting off DP till we had time to prep?” You asked, excitement bubbling just below the surface.

“Yeah?” Steve answered slowly before his eyes went wide, the implications clicking in his head. “Fuck…” He breathed, face flushing an adorable shade of pink.

“I did most of the prep while you both were at work…There’s um-There’s a plug in my ass right now.” You snorted a quiet laugh at saying the words out loud. Sure, it’s a little immature, but if you can’t have a little harmless immaturity then what’s the point of living?

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie murmured, eyes drifting up and down your body slowly, full of desire. “What still needs done?”

“I could only stretch myself so much, so I need one of you to finish that.” You answered. “It shouldn’t take long, the plugs been in for most of the day.”

Steve and Eddie shared a look of silent communication before Eddie was on his feet, pulling you with him and all but dragging you to the bedroom, Steve hot on your tails.

Eddie planted you on the bed as soon as you entered the room before turning to Steve, who’d just closed the door. “Get her naked.” He ordered before making for the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, only to find none.

“Looking for this?” You asked, holding up the bottle with a teasing grin. You’d left it on the bed earlier, wanting to waste as little time as possible.

Eddie chuckled lowly, grinning wide as he watched you wave it jokingly. “Yes, actually.” He answered as he sauntered over to the foot of the bed where you were sitting. “How did you know?” He joked.

“Call it intuition.” You joked right back, eyes lit up as you gazed up at him, Steve settling behind you on the bed, fingers drifting up and down your arms, causing goose bumps to bloom.

“Then intuit this.” He leaned toward your head. “Get out of those clothes.” His voice was low and authoritative. Steve didn’t normally get very dominant, at least not in the ‘telling you what to do’ kind of way, he’s always been more the ‘asking you to do something’ type.

This was a delicious change.

“You heard him, Sweetheart.” Eddie said, watching you through half lidded eyes, enjoying this new side of the other man as much as you were.

You stood from the bed as Eddie sat down, both men watching you intently as you pulled your shirt over you head, dropping it to the floor carelessly.

As you took off your clothes piece by piece, Steve and Eddie watched you while sharing slow touches and kisses, and you watched them right back, body getting hotter at the sound of Steve gasping against Eddies lips, pussy clenching around nothing at Eddies quiet groan when Steve palmed his cock over his underwear before taking them off.

Watching them lit you on fire the same way it did them.

Once you were naked Eddie beckoned you to them with a gentle hand, pulling you to the bed between them, Steve in front and Eddie behind. Steve immediately pulled you into a slow kiss, all tongues and gentle caresses, while Eddie was pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder, teeth nipping here and there to leave little marks while his hand drifted down to brush over the base of the plug, which made your pussy clench once more.

“You really are something else, Princess…” He whispered into your soft skin before looking over your shoulder at Steve. “Keep her busy for a sec, will ya?” He asked and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

Steve nodded slightly and pulled you to straddle him as he laid back on the bed, angling you perfectly for Eddie to get behind you.

Your lips didn’t leave Steves for more than a second as his hands roamed over your body, cupping your breasts, pinching your nipples, gripping your hips, while yours roamed him in return. Fingers slipping into his perfect hair to give it a tug, which earned you a soft moan, you wanted desperately to grind down against him, but that would make Eddies job harder.

As if sensing your frustration, Steve trailed one hand down your body to the apex of your thighs, running through your folds to coat them in your slick before rubbing small slow circles over your clit.

Eddie must have been too busy watching the pair of you because he didn’t touch you till you wiggled your hips unconsciously, then he was gripping them. “Christ, Sweetheart…Steve, you should see what I’m seeing…” He breathed softly.

You managed to pull your lips from Steve’s for a moment to pant out. “Cameras on the dresser…”

Eddie chuckled. “Maybe next time. My hands are shaking too much to take a good picture right now.” Then there was the sound of him opening the lube bottle, a quiet wet sound, then his chilled fingertips were rubbing around the base of the plug.

They worked almost in tandem, Steve working your clit slowly and occasionally teasing your pussy, while Eddie first worked the plug from you, then slowly stretched your rim, working methodically till he had three fingers moving in and out of you.

It ached at first, just like it had when you’d worked yourself open that morning, and just like it had when you’d put the plug in, but just like both of those times the pain soon subsided and turned into a low burning pleasure that had you pressing back into both of them.

“How’s that feel, Princess?” Eddie asked softly, pressing a kiss to your lower back.

“Good…Feels good…” You whimpered, wishing desperately for more.

“She ready?” Steve asked, looking past you at Eddie, who you assume nodded when Steve spoke again. “You want the back or the front?” He smirked, knowing neither of them actually had much preference.

“Flip a coin?” Eddie joked and chuckled when you whined. “I’ll take the back, so she doesn’t have to move as much.”

Steve nodded back and the pair helped you upright on your knees, holding you up as your mind began to drift, lost in the sensations of them.

“You ready, Baby?” Steve asked softly and received a nod in return.

There was another wet sound as Eddie slathered his cock with lube. “Deep breaths, okay?” He said softly before you felt him pressing into you slowly, almost frustratingly so, but you knew better than to rush, he was thicker and longer than some fingers or the plug, and all of this would be a waste if he hurt you.

You let out a sound at the stronger than before ache and Steves free hand caressed your face soothingly. “That’s a girl, keep breathing…Doing so good for us…” He whispered sweetly, his other hands still working your clit softly, which balanced the discomfort.

And once he was bottomed out, he held there, breathing deeply as his face buried itself in your shoulder, giving himself a rest as much as he was you.

“Steve.” Eddie said after a few moments, voice heavy and just this side of a breath.

“Yeah?” Steve answered, hand shifting from your head to Eddies to comb his fingers through the wild curls gently.

“Go ahead.” Eddies head shifted slightly, and you saw something in Steves eyes change in response to the look Eddie was giving him, something that made Steves cock jump against your thigh.

Eddie straightened up a little and pulled you flush to his chest, an arm under your breasts while the other turned your face to his to pull you into a long kiss while Steve shifted a bit, lining himself up with your sopping pussy.

He pushed in even slower than Eddie had, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt fuller in your life, it was a new kind of ache, the space between both holes stretched taut but in a way that wasn’t unbearable or even particularly unpleasant, especially when he too bottomed out and was pressed firmly against your g-spot by Eddies cock.

You could almost swear they were touching.

“Jesus-fuck…” Steve rasped, eyes screwed shut as he gripped your hips. “I can feel you, Eds…”

Eddie let out a breathless noise that was meant to be a chuckle. “Yeah…Yeah, I can feel you too…Christ…” He panted before brushing his fingertips along your cheek. “You okay, Sweetheart?” He asked softly.

Your body was alight with sensations, and you could swear that all it would take to make you cum at this point was for one of them to brush your clit, it was all so intense. “I’m okay…Full…Feels so full…” You answered, voice high and airy before swallowing thickly, trying to moisten your dry throat. “Don’t-…” You made a soft grunt when one of them shifted, it was hard to tell who, and it sent a zing through you. “Don’t think I’ll last long…” You made a similar breathy chuckle to Eddies.

“Us either…” Steve smiled softly.

“Won’t find out if you don’t move.” You pressed, one arm wrapped around Steves shoulder and the other reaching back to Eddies hip.

Both men chuckled at your insistence. “Yes, Ma’am.” Eddie said before slowly pulling out an inch or two, then pushing back in just as slowly, Steve doing the same on a delay, so when Eddie’s pushing in Steve was pulling out, making it so you never stopped feeling full of them.

It was euphoria. Pure euphoria.

Did you know that you can reach the g-spot from the back? Well, you can, so even when Steve was pulling out, Eddie was making sure it was never left unattended.

You were right about not lasting long, as almost four thrusts in you were clenching around both of them with a shuddering gasp, body flushing ever brighter as you gripped at them, both men grunting and gasping at the sensation, but they didn’t stop.

“So pretty when you cum, Baby…Such pretty noises…” Steve groaned as he pressed kisses to your neck, one hand reached back to Eddie, fingers once more in his hair, while the other still had hold of your hip.

“Can’t get any more perfect…Shit…Think I’m gonna cum…” Eddie murmured, and you could picture the blissed-out look on his face, his hand gripping your opposite hip while the other was holding the back of Steve’s neck.

“Mmhmm…” Steve managed, and it was clear from the look on his face he was in the same boat.

It didn’t take long for you to get worked right back up, a new knot tightening in your belly, this one stronger than the last. Your voice almost didn’t feel like yours anymore with how it came unbidden from your lips, cries of their names, half formed around moans and gasps.

You felt their hold on you get tighter in time with the careful in and out of their cocks, and the tightening of all your muscles, and before you could warn them you felt that knot snap, sending all three of you careening off the edge of pleasure together in a writhing mass of sweat, cum, and gentle touches.

The two men had to hold you up as your spent body went lax against them.

Eddie pulled out first, slowly and carefully, with a groan as his softening cock grew sensitive. “Jesus Christ…” He breathed before taking hold of you so Steve could do the same, letting out a grunt of his own.

“Get something to clean up with, I got her.” Steve said softly as he gently brushed your hair from your face, grinning when you smiled dazedly at him.

“Okay.” Eddie answered, leaning in to steal a kiss from the other man before you felt him climb off the bed.

“C’mon, Beautiful…” Steve murmured as he guided you to lay down, head rested on his chest as his arms remained wrapped around you.

You felt Eddie cleaning you up with a dampened rag before you even realized he was back in the room, but the sensation pulled a disquieted grunt from you, skin hypersensitive.

“Sorry, Princess…” He whispered as he finished up, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before tossing the rag away, to where you neither knew nor cared, then settled behind you, enveloping you in warmth.

You’re not sure how much time passed after that, but as long as you had both your boys, you knew you were just fine.

#eddie munson x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steddie x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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quicktosimp · 6 months

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Our Time Alone

Kinktober Day 22, Lo'ak

Warnings: Water Sex, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink, P in V Sex, Fingering

A/N: Thank you @pandoraslxna for putting this event together for us 💖

Divider by @cafekitsune

As much as I love the sea, at the end of the day, I need to clean off the excessive amount of salt sticking to my body. So, at the end of the day, Lo’ak and I travel to the hot springs to bathe, not that we wash for most of the time…

“Come on, Lo’ak, I can feel the salt crystallizing on my skin!” Whining as I pull on his arm,

“Yeesh, you’re bossy today! You may want some bathing oils to help,” Shaking our bag of bathing products.

“Well, you have it, so let go!” Pulling him out of our marui.

Lo’ak only laughs at my antics, allowing me to pull him along, also eager to wash the salt off his body. The trek to the hot springs is long, further into the island's center and up into the rocky hills. This path would be near impossible without much planning for a human, but when you have an 8-foot-tall alien boyfriend who likes to carry you for fun, it makes things much easier. Not many of the Metkayina are willing to climb up here, their biological talents suited for the water and not pursuing the rocky cliffs. In the seven years we have been here, there have only been two times that others have been more than the two of us. Allowing us peace and quiet and no risks of Tuk running into our marui while having sex.… it was rather fun watching Jake scold Tuk while she asked questions about what we were doing.

“Ready to go up?” Lo’ak asks, holding out his arms.

I walk into his arms joyfully, “I’m ready, Love.”

He scoops me into his arms, shifting me so I’m cradled in one. His other used to climb. We chat idly about our days, laying small kisses on each other and laughing at our stories.

“There is no way he did that,” my head thrown back in laughter.

“The skxawng did! He actually said that to the Ilu while bonded!” Lo’ak was attempting to focus on climbing as he told me about the idiot learning to ride his Ilu today.

“He’s lucky he only got thrown like a skipping rock,” I turn my nose at the idea of someone calling Ilu names.

“I agree. Thankfully, Ilu are gentle creatures. If it was Tsurak, I do not think it would have ended so well.” Lo’ak pulled us up onto solid ground.

“You’re going to have to put him on a watch list if he ever manages to tame an Ilu,” I comment, slipping out of Lo’ak’s arms. As much as I want to stay, the salt is digging into my skin painfully.

Lo’ak scrunches his nose, “If he can tame an Ilu,” flashing his fangs.

Seeing his fangs always does something for me, as heat warms my cunt. Lo’ak shoots me a knowing smile, “Don’t worry, Paskalin, you’ll get plenty more soon,” turning away, his tail swishing mischievously.

I rush to meet his strides, not one to let this challenge go by. As I pass Lo’ak, I gab his tail by the base and let the whole length run through my hands before moving past him. He stood there for a second, bewildered. Once his mind caught up with him, Lo’ak was ready for the chase. He crouched low, a playful growl leaving his lips before he charged. I squeal at his actions before taking off, running to the hot springs, as that is the only safe place, giggling along the way. It’s not long before Lo’ak catches me in his arms, picking me up while still running.

“Lo’ak! You got me! You got me!” I shout, knowing what he’s going to do.

Nearing the water, I beast on his chest playfully, “Don’t you da-!” Splash!

The water was warm and would be comforting if I wasn’t just thrown in. Surfacing the top, Lo’ak is leaning over smugly.

“Enjoying the water, Yawne?” He asked, flashing a grin.

I rip off my top and throw it at his face, hitting him with a satisfying smack. I laugh at the sight of my soaked top hanging off his face; only one eye could be seen. He wipes it off his face, landing on the stone with a plop. Lo’ak strips out of his tewng before cannonballing in. Water rained down on me from the splash, and Lo’ak surfaced not long after, his braids covering his face.

“Come here, dweeb,” I wave him over from where I was treading water.

Lo’ak slowly swims over, holding me in his arms as we swim, “Starting to feel better, Tìyawn?” He asks, nuzzling my face.

“Starting to, the water is helping my back. After diving today, Tuk asked me to show her how to spin yarn so she could keep practicing crocheting. I feel like my back was replaced by a tire iron.” I groan, trying to stretch my back.

Lo’ak’s hands rub at my back, kneading my tense muscles, “I’ve offered to make you that spinning wheel you showed me pictures of. It may be easier on your back.”

I hum at the thought, leaning into Lo’ak’s experienced hands. “I might take you up on that. I did not think my crafts would be so popular amongst the clan.” The idea of the spinning wheel sounds much better.

“I am not surprised! Many mothers love you making their carrying nets. Your nets are much softer on their baby's skin. Then you started making the blankets and the shawls, and then you made the Ilu. You made everything with care and love. It’s no wonder you became the first person an expecting mother tells.” His voice was full of pride.

A snort leaves my mouth, “How many more disgruntled expecting fathers do you want to deal with? Cause I don’t like that line or the looks that Ronal gives me when technically she should be the first to know, being the Tsahìk.” I groan as Lo’ak kneads at a knot near my neck.

“The line of angry men I will deal with, but if Ronal decides to ‘talk’ with you about it, I’m planning a last-minute hunting trip. And leaving indefinitely.” Lo’ak jokes through his laughter.

My head snaps to look at him, “You do that, and I’ll tell her how you, Aonung, and Rotxo broke the shelves in her healing marui, and I’m leaving out Aonung and Rotxo.”

Lo’ak’s face pales as he smiles uncertainly, “Well, we don’t have to worry about that. I doubt it will ever happen. Now, why don’t we start bathing,” Lo’ak moved so he was swimming on his back, pulling me onto his chest.

“Nice save,” I drawl amused.

Lo’ak softly chuckles as we float over to the side of the spring. The underwater ledges are big enough to support us so we can sit comfortably. I struggled to remove my water-logged clothing so Lo’ak could place it in our bag. The small bag of bathing oils was still attached to Lo’ak’s hip; thankfully, none broke during his jump.

“Here,” Lo’ak hands me a container, “This one is yours,” the smell of yavo fruit caresses my nose.

Lo’ak digs through the sack, returning with his own. I grab his and hand him back mine. Lo’ak softly shakes his head as he dips two fingers into yavo fruit oil. I lick my lips at seeing his two fingers dripping with oil.

“Babe, you need to get clean, yet you’re thinking of fucking me. Horny girl.” Lo’ak purred, trailing his fingers from my collarbone between my breasts and to my navel.

My breath hitches from the motion. I dip my fingers into the canaster full of Lo’ak’s oil before moving my hands to his pecks, the strong muscles flexing under my touch as I rub the oil into his skin. I move up to rub at his shoulders, pulling his face to mine. Our lips meet, the steam flowing around us. Our bodies slick from the oil and sweat from the steam as our mouths continue to meet. Lo’ak pushed his tongue into my open mouth, licking at the insides. I suck eagerly on his tongue as Lo’ak’s hands travel to my hips, pulling my body flush to his. As we draw apart, our saliva mixing between us, I bite his bottom lip, pulling it into my mouth. I grab at Lo’ak’s waist, my nails clawing at his skin.

“Oh fuck, Tìyawn. Fucking needy today.” Lo’ak groans, his hands moving to my thighs, spreading them apart, allowing him to fit between them.

“You’ve been teasing me all day.” I bite at his neck, determined to place as many marks on him as possible.

“All day, Tìyawn,” he groans as his hands creep towards my cunt, “How have I teased you all day?” Lo’ak asks, bringing his thumb to my clit under the water.

“Yes!” I arch into his touch, “Lifting those baskets, watching you wrangle that Tsurak, how you climbed to get the fibers I need to make the soft yarn. You’ve been showing off your muscles to me all day.” I slip my hand closer to his slit, teasing the outside.

Feeling Lo’ak’s slit, I notice it's already parted from the muscles relaxing due to the hot water. His cock peaking out, interested in our activities.

“So I go about my day usually, and you get your panties all soaked?” Lo’ak’s finger entered my pussy, “Fuck, you’re so wet inside. Is that why you wet and changed your clothes this afternoon? Did you soak through your panties? My little slut aren’t you?” He slowly moved his finger in and out slowly, curling it against my sweet spot.

“Yes!” I exclaim, “I made the floor wet, too; I had to clean it up after.” I gasped, rolling my hips into his hand, splashing water on us.

“Hmmm, what am I to do with you? Dirtying all your clothes due to your cunt. Maybe I should breed it, give it what it wants.” Lo’ak hummed nonchalantly.

“Oh yes, Lo’ak! Give me a baby!” I demand, pushing myself forward onto him.

Lo’ak and I fell back, submerging us underneath the water. His fingers never left my pussy. Instead, he used his other arm to hold onto me to resurface.

“Damn, you’re desperate, need me to fill you up with my cock? Give you all my cum? Fill up your cunt and womb until there’s nowhere else for it to go? But you’ll be locked on my cock. It won't be able to leak. Na, it’s just going to fill you up more. Definitely gonna give you a baby. You ready for that?” Lo’ak crooned, adding another finger.

“Oh fuck,” my eyes rolled to the back of my head. His words brought heat straight to my core.

“Yes or no, baby girl.” He punctuated with a harsh thrust of his fingers.

“Fuck, yes!” I moan as Lo’ak rubs my clit again.

Lo’ak moves us, so I’m laying on top of him again, floating in the water, “Good girl,” adding a third finger.

The pleasure of his movements, the pressure of being full, and the burn from the stretch was perfect.

“Ohhhh, Lo’ak, please more,” I whine.

“Alright, baby girl, I won’t tease you today.” Lo’ak trailed off, removing his fingers.

Shifting underneath myself, I pat at Lo’ak’s slit, feeling it part for me. I enter two of my fingers inside, searching for his dick. The insides of Lo’ak’s slit were warm and wet from the water seeping inside.

“Tìyawn, you need to hurry up. It is not comfortable to be filled with water.” Lo’ak grumbled.

I found his cock deep inside his slit, I coaxed it out with my fingers, and his slit closed around his cock, making a seal, “This time, I’ll be nice, but remember that’s what you do to me every time.” I threatened.

I line myself up with Lo’ak’s dick and sli back onto it, “Oh fuck you’re big!” I cry as the tapered head breaches my entrance.

“It’s cause you are so small, a tawtute not meant to take a na’vi dick, yet here you are spread wide on my cock like a whore.” His voice was breathless as one of his spines sank into me.

“Lo’ak!” I cry as his spines come to life inside me, trying to find the perfect place to lock into.

Each spine pushed into me with a pop, the large objects forced into me with each pushdown. As I continue downward, there is no chance of returning up, no relief from everything. His spines continue to wriggle and writhe inside me, finding their own crevice to lock into, becoming so hard that they cannot be removed. Many of the top spines are big enough that they rub my clit as I move down, each rough force bringing me shocking waves of pleasure.

“Oh fuck, I know, Yawne. Feels fucking good, yeah? Ready for me to lock with you? Fuck into your womb, and hold it open. Making sure that not a drop of cum goes to waste.” Lo’ak growls, grabbing at my hips forcing me down faster.

“No! Lo’ak! You’re too fast!” I shout as more of his cock is forced into me, the spines popping in with force, hitting my clit repeatedly.

The rough pleasure was bringing me close to my climax, faster than usual, “Lo’ak, please, you’re too fast! I’m gonna cum!” I cry out.

“You’re gonna cum? Okay, I’ll make you cum,” He snarled, rutting up into me harder.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” I scream, banging my fists on his chest.

His cock tip started hitting my cervix, demanding entry, but he was too restless to line up properly, instead striking it over and over again, bruising my cervix in the process.

“Please! Please! Lo’ak!” I scream as the pleasure becomes too much.

Lo’ak grips my hips with bruising strength, forcing his tip into my cervix. The tendrils on his cock head sprang to life, locking on either side of my cervix, creating a seal, locking us together.

“Oh fuck, Yawne! So fucking good. Ready for me cum? Gonna fill your womb so much. I’m fucking cumming!” His words came out as a hiss.

Lo’ak’s cum floods my womb, filling me even more than I already was. Gushes and gushes of cum fill me with every spurt. He keeps rutting into me, even though we cannot separate, dragging me on his cock. My clit rubs against his abs, giving me the final pleasure I need. My high hits me with overwhelming pleasure. White dots cover my vision as I attempt to wiggle and rock on Lo’ak’s cock. But his arms hold me firm. Forcing me to take everything he has to give.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I ramble on, my voice barely a whisper.

Lo’ak rubbed my back in soothing strokes, comforting me as I calmed down, “Did such a good job for me, baby. So proud of you,” He whispered, stroking my hair.

I make a whining noise at his praise, happy to hear it. We lay there soaking in the water, relaxing, as we wait for Lo’ak’s spines to disengage.

“I’m glad we made it up here,” I mumble sleepily.

“I am, too. We really need to start setting more boundaries with Tuk. We cannot keep having her barge into our marui at all hours, day and night, as she pleases. We need our time together.” Lo’ak grumbles, irritated with his sister.

“She is a young teen, Lo’ak boundary pushing is what they do. Or are you purposefully blocking out 85% of your teen years?” I tease a soft smile on my face.

“My point still stands.” He huffed.

“I would try and start implementing those rules sooner rather than later.” I hum.

“Why?” Lo’ak asked suspiciously.

“Remember? We agreed that I should stop taking my birth control, and that was over a month ago. I am definitely going to be pregnant after this.” I remind him joyfully.

I can feel Lo’ak’s tail swishing over the water with joy, “I cannot wait for the confirmation, but Yawne, it is no longer Tuk I am worried about. It will be my mother.”

I sighed defeat when I realized he was right, “We’re never going to be alone again, are we?” I grumbled.

“No, Yawne, no, we will not.”

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neontokyoo · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can I request prompts 9 and 23 with William? Thank you! <3

Of course! I had so much fun writing this, so I hope you like it! Enjoy!

Paring: William James Moriarty x Gn!reader

Prompts: 9 (getting protective over you) & 23 (they fight for you)

Summary: In an attempt to keep you safe, William invites you to stay with him for a while. However, not everything went according to plan.

Genre: Fluff

Warning(s): Bad language, violence

It was a quiet evening in London when William James Moriarty arrived at your doorstep, looking rather troubled. You had been dating for a few months now, and though he was always busy with his work as a consulting criminal, you had grown quite close.

"Is everything all right?" you asked as you let him in.

He gave you a small smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm afraid I may have brought some trouble to your doorstep, my dear."

Your heart sank. You knew that William's line of work was dangerous, but you had never imagined that it could affect you directly.

"What kind of trouble?"

"I have reason to believe that someone is following me," he said, his voice low and serious. "And I fear they may try to harm you to get to me."

You felt a chill run down your spine. "What can we do?"

William took your hand and led you to the couch, where he sat down beside you. "I've already taken some measures to ensure your safety," he said. "But I also want you to stay with me for a while. It would be easier for me to protect you if you were under my roof."

You looked at him, unsure. You had never stayed over at his place before, and the idea of being so close to his criminal operations made you uneasy. But you also knew that he was one of the smartest and most resourceful men you had ever met, and if anyone could keep you safe, it was him.

"All right," you said, nodding. "I'll stay with you."

William's expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. "Thank you," he murmured. "I promise to do everything in my power to keep you safe."

The next few days were tense but quiet. You stayed at William's luxurious mansion, reading and cooking while he worked in his study. He never let you out of his sight for long, always checking in on you to make sure you were all right.

On the third day, however, things took a turn for the worse. You were in the kitchen, making tea, when you heard a commotion outside. You peeked through the window and saw two men in dark suits approaching the house, their faces hidden by black masks.

Panic rose in your throat. You knew that William had enemies, but you had never expected them to come after you like this. You turned to run towards your boyfriend's study, but before you could take a step, the front door burst open and the two men barged in, guns drawn.

You froze, feeling like you were in a nightmare. One of the men grabbed you roughly by the arm, while the other aimed his weapon at William, who had just emerged from his study.

"Well, well, well," said the man holding you. "Look what we've got here. Moriarty's little plaything. You've caused us a lot of trouble, mate."

William stepped forward, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "Let her go," he said calmly. "You want me, not them."

The man sneered. "Oh, we want you all right. But we figured we might as well take them out, too while we're at it."

You felt a surge of fear, but also a flicker of anger. How dare they try to hurt you just to get to William? You were more than just a pawn in his game. William seemed to sense your defiance, and he turned to you, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Don't worry, my dear," he said softly. "I won't let them harm you. I'll protect you, no matter what."

You felt a surge of warmth in your chest at his words. Despite his reputation as a ruthless criminal, William had always been gentle and kind to you. You knew that he truly cared for you and that he was willing to risk everything to keep you safe.

The man holding you snorted. "How sweet. You two can die together, then."

He pulled you closer to him, pressing the barrel of his gun to your temple. You felt your heart racing, your breath coming in short gasps. This was it. This was how it would all end.

But then, something incredible happened. William moved faster than you could blink, lunging forward and knocking the gun out of the man's hand. He grabbed the man by the collar and threw him across the room, then turned to face the other attacker.

"Well, dying with them is better than nothing," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You filthy son of a bitch."

The man hesitated for a moment, then raised his gun again. William didn't give him a chance to fire. He charged forward, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting it until the gun clattered to the ground. He delivered a swift punch to the man's face, sending him reeling.

You watched in awe as he fought like a man possessed, his movements fluid and deadly. It was clear that he had years of training and experience behind him, and that he knew exactly how to take down his opponents.

In a matter of minutes, both attackers lay unconscious on the ground. William stood over them, his breathing heavy, his eyes blazing with anger.

"You never should have come here," he said, his voice cold. "You've sealed your own fate."

He turned to you, and you saw that his expression had softened once again. He took a step towards you, then pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I never wanted to put you in danger."

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling his warmth and strength. Despite everything that had just happened, you felt safe in his arms.

"It's all right," you said. "You protected me. You fought for me."

William pulled back, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"I'll always fight for you," he said. "No matter what. You're the most important thing in the world to me."

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You had never expected to find such a deep connection with someone like William, but here you were, with him holding you close and promising to keep you safe.

"I love you," you whispered.

William's eyes softened even further, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. "I love you too," he murmured against your lips. "More than anything."

From that moment on, you knew that you and Moriarty were bound together. You had faced danger and violence, but you had come out on the other side, stronger and more connected than ever before.

You had found a man who was willing to fight for you, no matter what the cost. And you knew that you would fight for him too because you loved him with all your heart. Together, you would take on the world, and nothing would stand in your way.

#william james moriarty x reader #william james moriarty #moriarty anime #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moryarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #mtp #mtp x reader #yuumori #ynm william #william moriarty #ynm #xreader #x reader #fluff

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mccdreamys-writes · 21 days

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smiles for miles – 12. i will find you

she's the sweetest love i could find, and so i guess i'll be hunting high and low.- a-ha, Hunting High and Low

S E P T E M B E R 1 8 T H 2 0 1 1 earlier that day.

"Tell me what you got Baby Girl", Morgan asked Garcia through the phone.

The remainder of our team made their way into Kansas City under the cloak of night, their arrival shrouded in anticipation and determination as we braced ourselves for the impending finale.

Garcia's voice crackled over the line, carrying the weight of her discoveries. "Alright, buckle up. Maile's backstory is like something out of a novel. She's thirty-one, just as we suspected. The early years of her life were calm, but then things took a dark turn. From age six onwards, it's a laundry list of hospital visits."

As Garcia dug deeper into Maile's troubled past, a chill ran down my spine. Memories of our shared childhood flooded back, reminders of the pain she endured even back then. The idea that her suffering had only worsened since we parted ways sent a shiver down my spine.

"The hospital records paint a grim picture," Garcia went on. "Despite obvious signs of abuse, they never once raised any alarms. It's a real failure of the system. Worthy of a lawsuit if I may say so."

My heart sank at Garcia's words. The betrayal of trust, the system's failure to protect the vulnerable – it all hit too close to home. It was a story as old as time, but it never failed to stir up a whirlwind of emotions within me.

Garcia's voice filled the room, her storytelling painting a vivid picture of a pivotal moment in Maile's life. "On her sixteenth birthday, she took a bold step and moved out," Garcia narrated, her words carrying the weight of significance. "Since then, she's called Florence, Alabama, her home, carving out her own path amidst the city's gentle Southern charm."

As Garcia continued, her admiration for Maile's resilience and determination was palpable. "She worked her way through college on a full scholarship," she added, her tone tinged with admiration.

A brief silence followed, allowing us to absorb the gravity of Maile's achievements. "She graduated with honors," Garcia announced proudly. "And then, she pursued a master's degree, diving deeper into the world of poetry, just as we suspected she would."

Listening to Garcia's narrative, I felt a mix of pride and regret wash over me. "Well done, Maile," I murmured, acknowledging her accomplishments.

But beneath the surface, there was a twinge of remorse. How many chances had I missed? How many times had I unknowingly crossed paths with her, unaware of the brilliance she possessed? The realization weighed heavily on my mind, highlighting the fleeting nature of chance encounters and the profound impact they can have on our lives.

Garcia spoke with admiration and respect as she delved deeper into Maile's current endeavors. "She's made a name for herself as a freelancer," she remarked, her words carrying a sense of reverence for Maile's entrepreneurial spirit. "Through her poetry, she's not only found her passion but also a way to make a living, which, I must say, is quite an achievement."

She paused, letting her words sink in before adding, "Despite her success, she stays true to her values." Garcia's tone was filled with awe. "She lives simply, resisting the temptation of lavish spending or extravagant vacations. Instead, she opts for a life of modesty and fulfillment, finding joy in stability and contentment."

As Garcia painted a picture of Maile's journey, memories of her past flooded my mind. Each detail revealed the remarkable woman she had become. It seemed as if fate had woven together the threads of her life into a masterpiece—a tapestry reflecting her pride, humility, resilience, and grace.

Deep within me, I couldn't shake this strong feeling that Maile had achieved exactly what I always imagined for her. She had this unique mix of traits—she held her head high, not in a showy way, but with this quiet power that just radiated from her; and yet, she also had this humility that reminded me how we're all connected and how vital it is to understand and care for each other.

I couldn't stop thinking about how much her goals mirrored mine. And when I heard that she saw me not just as a guide, but as someone who inspired her, it filled me with such deep thanks. It really made me realize how much our actions can influence those around us, and how important it is to be a guiding force in someone else's journey.

As Garcia spoke, I felt this surge of pride for the woman Maile had become. She seemed to embody all the hopes and dreams of what's yet to come, this vision of her growing and changing into the person she was always meant to be. And in that moment, I knew she hadn't just reached her potential—she had surpassed it.

Amidst all the chaos around us, the need to find her felt more urgent than ever. We were driven by this strong desire to rescue her from the overwhelming situation we found ourselves in. It was like this relentless mission, fueled by a mix of determination, duty, and this overwhelming sense of responsibility to shield her from the storms raging around us.

With anticipation gripping us tightly, we hung on every word Garcia uttered, each one carrying weight as he peeled back the layers of our search. Then, out of nowhere, he uttered her name— Ira Listunova. Unlike the elusive Maile, she was more visible, leaving a digital trail that practically begged us to follow it.

Garcia's words painted a vivid picture of this woman who embraced the online world with zeal, her social media profiles offering glimpses into her life. From the crack of dawn to the dead of night, she roamed the digital realm, craving connection and sharing bits of herself, creating a detailed map of her life through posts and updates.

As Garcia revealed the details of her relationship with James, a bitter taste filled the air, adding to the thick tension in the room. Learning that they started dating just eight days after we decided to split felt like a cruel twist of fate, stabbing into our wounded hearts.

The realization hit me like a bolt of anger— we hadn't even begun the painful process of divorce, yet he had already moved on, leaving behind the wreckage of our once-promising marriage. It was a harsh reminder of how fleeting love can be and how unpredictable human emotions are.

Garcia's storytelling unfolded like a captivating book, each detail she shared about Ira's life seeming to carry immense weight as he revealed more about her journey. It was like she was peeling back layers of her life story for us.

As Garcia dug deeper into the ins and outs of Ira's life, a troubling thought started to form in my mind. It felt like Ira's path mirrored mine in unsettling ways—from her education choices to where she lived and even her romantic involvement with James Blake. The similarities were too striking to ignore, leaving this strange feeling of déjà vu hanging in the air.

Why did it seem like Ira was walking in my footsteps so closely? Was it just a coincidence, or was there something more profound happening—some cosmic twist of fate weaving our lives together in ways we couldn't understand?

As I pondered these questions, a sense of unease settled over me, casting a shadow over the room. It was a stark reminder that the lines between what's real and what's not, between chance and destiny, can often blur and merge.

"Thanks, Baby Girl," Morgan's voice came through the phone, a gentle reminder of the bond that held us together as a team. But beneath the surface, there was a tangible tension, an uncertainty that hung in the air like electricity.

As the call wrapped up, JJ's comment sliced through the quiet, shattering the calm that had settled around us. "Sounds like someone is obsessed with taking over every part of your life, Alex," she said casually. Her words held the ease of someone who was used to navigating our team dynamics.

I couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh at JJ's observation, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a heavy burden. It was a stark reminder of just how serious things had gotten, a reminder that the stakes were much higher than any of us had imagined.

"And considering she wants to take over your life," Reid chimed in with a sharp mind. His gaze flicked over the lines of poetry spread out before us, each word a potential clue in the complex puzzle we were trying to solve. "We rely on the clues Maile has given us," he added urgently, his voice tinged with a sense of determination.

"Returning our focus to the second poem," Reid said, his voice filled with purpose as he pointed to the poem displayed prominently in the center of the whiteboard. The room quieted as we all contemplated the eerie words on the page, each line seeming to lead us deeper into the unknown.

"It's undoubtedly depicting a dark place." He concluded, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Morgan was the first to speak up. "It could be a basement," he suggested, his words hanging heavy in the air like a shroud of uncertainty.

Rossi, always the voice of reason, nodded in agreement. "Or perhaps a garage," he added, his tone thoughtful. It was a practical suggestion, considering the need for secrecy and accessibility in our investigation. A garage offered both, a place where someone could hide their intentions away from prying eyes.

Hotch, as per usual, chimed in with his insights. "A warehouse," he proposed firmly. It was a logical deduction, given the scale of the operation we were dealing with. A warehouse provided ample space for clandestine activities, shielded from outside scrutiny.

Reid's question hung in the air, each word reminding us of the enormity of our task. "Does anything stand out to you?" he asked, his eyes fixed on me, searching for any sign of recognition amidst the uncertainty.

I furrowed my brow, delving deep into my thoughts, trying to piece together any fragments of memory that could shed light on the situation. But despite my efforts, there was nothing—no hidden meaning, no clue waiting to be discovered. "I can't think of anything," I admitted, frustration creeping into my voice as I shook my head.

But Reid persisted, delving further into the puzzle. "She also mentioned 'nowhere you'd be ever found,'" he reminded us, his words lingering in the air like a challenge. "Does that ring any bells for you, especially considering the dark place?"

As Reid spoke, memories flooded my mind, snapshots of moments shared with Maile. I remembered the nights we spent stargazing, the soothing rhythm of the waves as we swam under the moonlight, the quiet intimacy of reading together by candlelight. But intertwined with those cherished memories were darker ones—moments of pain, of fear, reminders of the abuse she endured in her past, haunting her like shadows she couldn't shake.

My inner turmoil must have been written all over my face because Hotch's voice broke the silence. "What's on your mind, Blake?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

Taking a deep breath, I prepared to confront the darkness hiding in the depths of my thoughts. "We made a pact," I started, my voice barely audible. "There was this one place I was never supposed to go unless I couldn't find her for more than four hours."

As I spoke, memories flooded back, vivid and sharp—the rundown shed on the edge of her father's property, stained with the memories of her pain and suffering. "Her father had this shed where he'd work on stuff," I continued, my voice trembling with emotion. "But it wasn't dark... except for one room."

Realization hit me like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the shadows clouding my mind. "He'd lock her up there whenever he'd beat her and someone unexpectedly came by," I revealed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "She showed me once, just in case I ever needed to come and rescue her."

The weight of my words hung heavy in the air, a grim reminder of the horrors lurking beneath the surface of our seemingly normal lives. But amid the darkness, there was a glimmer of hope—that together, we could find a way to save Maile from her past and bring her back into the light.

"That could work," Morgan jumped in, his voice cutting through the silence like a beacon of unity in the midst of chaos. Reid agreed with a solemn nod, his eyes filled with determination.

Hotch turned to me, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Can you lead us to this shed?" he asked, his words both a challenge and a call to action.

Meeting his gaze with determination, I nodded firmly. "Yes, I know where it is," I confirmed, my voice steady with resolve.

"Alright," Hotch announced, his tone firm and decisive. "Blake, Dave, you're with me. The rest of you, take the other car."

With a sense of urgency, we hurried to the waiting vehicles, the tension thick in the air as we prepared for the next phase of our mission. Though the precinct was only a ten-minute drive from the shed, each moment felt like an eternity as we mentally prepared ourselves for what awaited us.

Arriving at our destination, anticipation hung heavy in the air, the weight of our collective apprehension nearly suffocating. Stepping out of the cars, we formed a tight circle, our resolve strengthened by our shared determination to confront whatever darkness lay ahead in that shed.

As we geared up to enter that dreadful place, Reid's voice cut through the air, freezing us in our tracks. "Alex," he called out, concern evident in his tone. "You shouldn't go in. Remember what she said."

I felt a surge of defiance rising within me at Reid's words, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "I can't just stand by and watch," I countered, determination and desperation mingling in my voice.

Hotch stepped forward, his gaze unwavering as he echoed Reid's warning. "Reid's right," he stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. "You're not going in."

"But—" I started, my protests silenced by Hotch's firm tone.

"No," he interjected, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. In that moment, I realized that despite my eagerness to confront our past, I was bound by the constraints of reality. Sometimes, true courage lies in knowing when to step back and let others take the lead in battles we cannot fight.

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blandmemoirs · 4 months

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Choosing To Be Better (2023 Journal)

(The following is a LONG entry written for my public diary from June 26th, 2023 to December 19th, 2023, with edits made up to its posting date in January 2024; as it was not written in one sitting, it may move around and shift focus in ways that are different from a typical memoir of its kind, but it was always intended to be one piece, and so will be posted as one. It reflects much of the angst, trials, fears, and despair I have struggled with for some time, but also, I hope, displays the perseverance, growth, strength and passion for life that I have been fostering all this time. Read to your hearts content. There is no TL;DR you'll get from me)

At the beginning of this year I made a fundamental decision that has set the course I have followed these past months. As last year transitioned into this one, there was much weighing on my mind(for that post, which is a bit of a downer, go here). I was 23, to turn 24, a college dropout working a dead end job, with no money in savings, overweight and relatively out of shape, my YouTube channel was still below 500 subscribers after 10 years, still not halfway to monetization, I had committed to a feature film that was being produced at the snails pace I chose to work, much to the discomfort of my fellow filmmakers, who were eager to get to work, I am single and have never had a meaningful romantic relationship, as all my pursuits, few as they are, were fruitlessly aimed at ones who were uninterested in me, and as a cherry on top, I am balding at a rate much faster than years previous, or perhaps simply more noticeably than years previous. The hair in front had visibly thinned to a point that even combing the longer parts from the side could no longer cover it. I wore pajama pants no matter the occasion unless specifically asked to dress "nicer", I have never been to a doctor despite recently subscribing to the highest tier health insurance at my work, I have a 401k that takes a percentage of every one of my paychecks. I do not believe in God and have not said a prayer in nearly a decade. I am a grown adult with responsibilities and ambitions. I am surrounded by a community that I have played a large hand in cultivating and was soon going to be elected to be responsible for continuing to cultivate and chart out a future for. I am an artist who thinks all day about art, but produces relatively little of, as consuming art is much easier than creating art. I had repaired much of my inner self, having healed the resentment I felt towards my father(s), and thus cured the hatred I felt towards myself. I forgave my father the man who raised me, and we have deepened our bond, I forgave my biological father, the man who r*p*d my mom to give me life, and no longer have any need for him to be around. I met my biological grandmother, who has spent the last twenty years hanging on a thread of hope that she may see her only grandchild come to her home, and I was able to be a wish fulfilled, and fill her heart with joy at the end of her life. I have opened doors to friends and given them homes to rest, grow, and heal so they may transform into the best versions of themselves. My family is proud of me. I am proud of how far I have come from how low I had been, and for the longest time in my life I have loved myself and felt content with myself. No shortcoming or perceived personal flaw has held over me like a dark cloud in some time. For some odd years I felt an inner turbulence like a raging storm which seemed ceaseless and eternal, I felt that I was always to be angry at the world and the God that made it and hate the men who made me, and hate myself for seeing them in the mirror and noticing every odd similarity that existed between us. But the raging riot within my heart has felt some sense of peace and quiet in the last few years. It has not dampened my passion, or blinded me in serenity. I am still hungry, I am still looking forward to what comes next, I am not content with my contentedness, but I am less a monster hiding inside of a man, and more a man that has tamed and mellowed what monster remains. There have been moments, days, when I lost my patience, my temper flared, and I felt the cage rattle. But no bridges have burned that were not rebuilt, no words were said that could not be unsaid, no daggers were placed into the hearts of the people I love because I felt I needed to return the hurt I was feeling. There were temptations, opportunities, and reasons to strike, to be angry, to be bitter, but the trend I have desired, and the path I have chosen, is one in which I can be better.

Better than my past self, better than my worst self, better than my best self, better than the father who created me, and better than the father who actually made me. All to the tune of a song emblazoned with the title of my newest journey, "To Be Better" created by the talented Gavin aka Miracle of Sound, whose music has felt like a spiritual guide for me for some time. Ever since first discovering his tunes on a random YouTube music tribute to the Batman Arkham games, I have felt captivated by his works, which are often inspired by video games, or movies, or his own experiences. He has an ability that I would describe as being able to capture the soul or essence of a work, and translate it into beautiful music. Some time ago I wrote here about my relationship with my anger, and set it to the tune of his song, "Ode to Fury", and now, all this time later, we both return to the God of War series, and to Kratos specifically, to set a new checkpoint, a point in which myself, Kratos, and whoever else is so daring, can choose "To Be Better".

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It is no secret that at the end of this year I will be dressing as Kratos for the annual Star Bandits Halloween Party, and that in preparation for this I have made the decision to work out to build up muscle, will be shaving my head, and growing out my beard. I've also been eating more olives to boot but that's neither here nor there. To some people that is enough information and that is the story, to others they think its because of some single insecurity or character flaw listed from the beginning, and some may wonder why I even feel the need to explain any of this at all. Whatever it is you are approaching this essay, novel, or epic for, I want you to know I will be spending the next few thousand words talking about myself, my insecurities, my lived experiences, the media I've consumed to understand them, my failures, my successes, the things I've made, the things I'm proud of, and attempting to explain in as many words as possible who I am and what I want, because no one single person is just one single thing, we are complex, multifaceted, hypocritical, contradictory, and impossible to understand in just a few words. So, if you want to get as close as you can to understanding me, or the me that I want you to see, this is for you. But ultimately, this piece is for me, a new entry in my public diary and maybe a piece to be included in my autobiography. As to write about a lifetime may very well take up a lifetime. The reason I am choosing to closely identify myself with some video game character to the point that I am dressing up as the closest approximation of the pixels I can manage is because it is a small part, however largely symbolic, of the greater act I am performing in choosing to better myself.

I am not a religious person. I don't have a holy book I look to for answers to the universe or life's mysteries or my grand purpose in life. I don't pray to a God and hope He listens so he may favor me and work miracles to turn my luck around or give me an Eternal Life in some far off paradise. I don't believe in any kind of grand plan or cosmic scheme or intelligent design tom explain this rock orbiting a hot ball of gas and our suffering on it. I believe religion exists to foster a polite and orderly society. It exists to cultivate social engagement and community, to provide a "purpose" to it all. It exists to explain the questions that we just can't answer. God is cope. And the explanation, the answer to the unanswerable, is "well, it is what it is because He made it that way and only He knows why". That's the circular logic I used in Elementary school when I tried to convert my friend Louie because I thought it was my "purpose" as a Good Christian(TM) to bring people to the Light and "save" their "souls" from the big fire pit down below where everyone is punished for not believing in something despite the loving, forgiving, all powerful, omnipotent God creating them knowing they would not find Him in their lives.

In 8th Grade I was a rather outspoken Christian as I went through a whole "rebirth" phase in the 6th Grade when I got legally adopted by the father who raised me and took on his last name, becoming Robbie Bland. I believed at that same time I felt a call from God to be baptised and thus reborn. Washing Bell away with holy water to become the person I was meant to be. The reality is I just wanted a symbolic change to fit the legal, bureaucratic change that took place when I sat their in a legal office and told them "My name is Robert Otist Bland, not "Robert Otist Bell Jr, please and thank you". I didn't particularly need the baptism, I got to have my main character moment in the courtroom when I stood before a judge and said that same thing, only for him to remark about my intelligence and maturity for a 12 year old. If only he knew it was because I had to grow up so fast. Oh well. The baptism was just another symbolic piece of action I could take to FEEL new and FEEL different. It was capped off with a new cross necklace that I wore everyday for the next few years. I'd pray every night, and I'd ask for forgiveness for whatever wrongs I had done, and pray for healing and blessings to those who had less, and ask God for a nice thing here and there. It made me feel good and comfortable, and when I was in church I would SIIIIING my praises for the Lord to all the little karaoke church choir songs. One day I was even worshipping so hard I passed out and fell on a lady standing next to me. I thought that was a pretty wild experience at the time, nowadays I think it was the result of locking my knees standing and singing until I was breathless, y'know, two things that make a person pass out. I felt I had some kind of a relationship with God, that He was watching me, and everything I do, and then I got older. I became a teenager, I became more aware of the world, I became more aware of myself, I started committing more "sins" by touching myself where it felt good, something I was told I'm not supposed to do or God, who is watching me touch myself, will be upset with me. So I'd pray for forgiveness every night after finishing. Then I remembered I didn't even know what bible verse said I couldn't choke the chicken, so I decided I should probably get more familiar with the bible. I resolved to read it cover to cover, as any good book ought to be read, and that I would read it, every night before bed, as incentive to stop "sinning" as hormonal teenagers discovering themselves do.

And I... Couldn't make it past Genesis. It was boring, and nothing was "speaking to me" or revealing some kind of wisdom or knowledge I couldn't already find somewhere else. It was full of long lists of names and family trees and some weird stories of incest and it just made me go "huh, so this the bible when read like a book and not just cherry picked for quotes to be interpreted for me", and I gave up. I stopped reading. Comic books were more interesting and I felt like I was actually learning things about morality, empathy, humanity, and "purpose" that the bible just wasn't giving to me, and I think that's where it began. If it wasn't there it was when my 8th Grade drama teacher stopped one of my conversations with a classmate about my religion and why they should convert to pose a question: "If God knows Everything, do you have Free Will?" Well of course! I thought. The bible says so, or so I'm told. "But, if God knows every decision you will make before you make it, and God created you, did you make those decisions?" Well, of course! Because God gave me free will... I wasn't satisfied with my own answers and shame on the grown adult for owning me in an argument, buuuut honestly also thank you because you opened my mind so much on that day. I began to fixate on that question, and others I would come up with to challenge myself and poke holes in my thinking. "What if you are born in one of those indigenous communities that has no contact with the outside world and you still worship the sun or the rain and not Jesus Christ himself? Or what about the people who came before 0 AD when Jesus was born?" Rather specific, and some (hypothetical) answers damn those people to eternal darkness in purgatory for the crime of being born before they could know better and convert to "the right one" with the eternal kingdom everlasting. Other people are perhaps less tolerant than others and would happily damn those people to Hell, and some people are perhaps more merciful than others and think everyone who lives a virtuous life goes to the happy place because that's the way it should be. I started to believe that, but then that meant my religion no longer hinged on actually believing and worshipping my God to get past the Pearly Gates. It just required you to be a "good person", but then that led me back to my rather frequent monkey spanking, which while simultaneously making me go blind and grow hair on my hands, was also supposed to make me a bad person. "But why, why would God make something that feels so good, be so wrong?" A rather dangerous thought that, but God also gave men a G-spot up their rectum and said they aren't allowed to touch it, and he made food so good, but us get so fat when we eat! That's when it started to click.

Religion is about sacrifice! Hell, they all talk about it. Whether its animals, crops, indulgences, or fellow human beings, we gotta take some Ls, sometimes Lives, so that God can be nicer to us and reward our "service". Ugh, service? Religion is about serving God? The same God who doesn't talk to me like he talked to everyone else in the damn book? Where's my burning bush? Where are my easy answers. Faith is about trusting the process and not asking too many questions because I'm not supposed to understand. God is above me and incomprehensible and blah blah blah. Some religions even spout "submission" along with their service. I ain't submissive, that's not what I'm here for. If God wanted me to submit he'd give me a reason, and burning forever or rotting away in an abyss absent his light and love doesn't sound all that different from a Summer night in Texas getting bitten by skeeters. Damn bloodsuckers.

In 9th Grade I had the opportunity to get some way forward with my relationship with God and religion when I emceed an Interfaith Panel hosted by my school's Philosophy Club wherein we gathered many religious leaders from the community, some local, some not so local. We had a Rabbi, two muslims, a few priests, a Coptic Christian from Egypt, a Hindu who needed a translator because he didn't speak English, and like two buddhist guys one of 'em in full robe mode. They were all people who had authority and experience and knowledge over their religions, even if I don't remember all their specific titles, and by the end of the night, I liked the buddhist guys the most. So... Was I buddhist?

Nah, I mean. Karma made some sorta sense, reincarnation sounded, approachable, and also made some sorta cosmic sense in that all matter and energy is recycled as it is neither created or destroyed, supposedly, but Nirvana? Just sounds like Heaven but with extra steps. I don't want Heaven or Enlightenment or whatever the time and place after life is supposed to be. I just want this life, to LIVE this life, and to live it well. That Interfaith Panel was the end of my relationship with The Lord God Almighty and the beginning of my Atheism arc, because well, for me it was all or nothing. Not too be too Green Goblin about the whole thing, but the Agnosticism is just "There is a plan but we don't know it because only God knows" but more noncomittal. "I mean, there is a God, but I don't know, I'm not too sure, no one knows really". I just can't help but ask "Are you in or are you out?" and for me, I was out.

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The only approachable religion left for me was deism, or the 'clockwork' God the Founding Fathers are accused of believing in, the one who made everything, like a big piece of clockwork, and now sits on his hands and watches his "intelligent, grand design" of an Ant Farm tick away, never interfering to make repairs or fix what's broken, because even a broken clock is right twice a day. That's why wars, and genoc1des and r*pe and all the bad things happen because God designed the world that way and it's supposed to happen by design, form, and function, because he knows best and we are so small and stupid and we can't conceive of why that two year old should get brain cancer and die. It must have... Just been "his time" because God "needed him in Heaven".

No we just live in an imperfect world as imperfect lifeforms that decay from the moment we are born until the decay outpaces our growth and we return to the dirt we were sculpted from, and we have genetic disorders, and diseases, and cancer causing chemicals in our homes, the food we eat, and the air we breath, and some of us actively pollute the air ourselves and others breathe because we have chemical addictions and oral fixations that are only satiated by sucking on chemical binkies, and hey man, from the moment we are born to the moment we die, babies need binkies. And I'm not knocking ya, but let's call a spade a spade, your inability to go two seconds without sucking on that binky is just you perpetuating your inner baby. It makes you feel safe and comfy, and thats what binky is for. Everyone does that, just different ways, because none of us ever really "grow up" we just change shape and form.

Anyways, Our God is an Awesome God He Reigns, or he built a clock and he's watching us tick each other off, and no matter what, no matter what interpretation you prefer from the classics, no matter what quote you pull or book you read, God allows awful things to happen, a real "why do bad things happen to good people" paradox, and you know, I get it, God is cope, we need God to surrender ourselves and our critical thinking to so that we can feel some comfort in the "master plan" that sometimes involves "master races" and "mass-ter extermination but absolutely NO masturbation. And absolutely NO sexual relations before marriage because you aren't supposed to know if you are sexually compatible with your spouse until the wedding night, and then you just gotta make it work, nevermind how important being able to physically please each other and fulfill each other's desires is. It still bugs me, it still unsettles me, and I don't want to cope, I want to live. I want to feel. And you know, I do think the story of my atheism being rooted in my being a teenage coomer is funny, but to people who think that's some major personal failure or character flaw, I choose to tell the truth, the whole story. The REAL, most RAW reason why I can never love a God that does not love me.

My mother was 15 when I was conceived, 16 when I was born. That's about the same age as The Virgin Mary.

My biological was 20 chasing after a girl in high school, even if you wanna adopt a United Nations 'modern' take on consent among the youth, that's still a grown man and a minor, ethically that is egregious, even if my mom may say it was her idea. What kind of world is it where we buy into that idea that a kid can "choose" to be in a relationship with an adult, that a kid can then "choose" whether to keep the kid that was conceived from that "choice" made from an ignorant, uninformed, and naïve perspective placed on them by a predator. Now how the Hell are we supposed to buy that a girl of that same age can consent to an "immaculate conception" from a higher being she can't possibly conceive or process. Now I'm applying "modern human standards" to He Who Cannot Be Understood by humans, but is God really so above us that we get to overlook the, uhm, frankly "problematic" age and power gap involved heah? Is that why we are to submit and sacrifice and be unquestioning? Because that's just the way it is it's all part of the plan, we can't possibly understand. No, what I don't understand is why my life, my conception, my existence and my ability to be on this Earth, came as a byproduct of, in the most liberal terms, statutory rape, and then hinged on the literal child making the "choice" to keep and raise me. How lucky me that I won the one in a million lottery to be one of the swimmers playing in the JV league to make it here. I don't get a representative in the room because I don't have a womb but it's insane that we just let adults rape kids and then let kids "make a choice" about their future. I think there should be more to it than that. Obviously you shouldn't force a life into the world to be raised by parents that are both unfit, and unwanting of the burden of parenting(*cough cough Casey cough cough*) because that's where tragedies become murders. And you know what? I was lucky.

My mom did keep me, and she did do her best to raise me as a child raising a child, at the cost of stunting her growth and putting her life on hold to be mother to myself and my sister and brother who soon followed me. And I'm grateful. I love my mom, even when she let me down or couldn't quite reach the bar of "good" parent, as subjective as that can be, I never hated her for her personal flaws or shortcomings, because I always saw through it, that she was that 16 year old mom, trying to do right by the life(and later, lives) she chose to create. And though her parenting style was always "do as I say and not as I do" as she engaged in vice after vice after vice, I listened, even if she had to spank some of the vices out of me when they began to stick. I never drank, I never will. I never smoked, I never will. I didn't say bad words until I turned 18, as we agreed was most appropriate. I got good grades, made good friends, was involved in my education even when I wasn't passionate about it, and I didn't have any babies as a teenager, in fact, the fear of turning out the way my parents did was what made approaching any form of intimacy or romance for me... Difficult. And it still is, though I'm getting better at, trying, even if its all baby steps like "telling her how you feel". I'm so cautious and reserved and I mean dead-honest afraid of intimacy because I grew up seeing everything on fire all the time, and I've seen so many relationships end because people just aren't very good at taking care of each other, and in my limited experiences, sometimes people just don't know how to take care of themselves and they're just as scared of intimacy as I am. Oh well. I have to REALLY like someone before I can even begin to approach the idea of asking them out, and by that point, we are already close friends and now its "awkward". As has been stressed to me with great emphasis of late, you're not supposed to date your friends, apparently. I'll figure it out someday, it'll just take someone really special, as I've always said. All things considered, my mom didn't do the worst job in the world, especially for a teen mom who drowns in vices and can't financially plan very far ahead of her next paycheck. Even when she drunk drove me to a PTA meeting and slurred her words while the principals and counselors and teachers who all saw her son as a young prodigy shook her hand I forgave her, in spite of the disappointment and embarrassment, because that was my mom, the one who chose me, and the one who loved me and is proud of me. You can't quite resent that. It was harder to forgive my dad, even though he was similarly fucked up as a kid and just as if not more stunted and broken. I live as good a life as I can, on my own terms, because my birth forced my mom to live her life for me.

I think about Hulk a lot. I write about Hulk alot. Lately I've been writing scripts about Hulk alot. I wrote this line the other day-

"Banner: When I was born, I destroyed my mother's life."

Because in the comics Bruce Banner's dad, an abusive alcoholic who hated Bruce and hated his wife for having him, killed his mom when he was a child. Rebecca Banner died protecting her son from her husband, and it's something Bruce always blamed him for. When I wrote that line it sent something close to shivers up my back, I felt a strange resonance with it, and I think after this long essay full of rants and anecdotes about why I hate God and love my mother, you might be able to see why. I felt guilty for a long time, over a sin I did not commit, over a life I couldn't consent to or ask for, because of the sins of my biological father. It was a guilt that lingered within me for a long time, and apparently still rears its head from time to time. A root cause for me to hate myself, among the many other reasons I've found over the years, but all the same: it was this guilt that made me respect my mother, in the odd ways that I do. I do what she asks of me, I never raise a mean finger to her, because the last thing I ever want to do is hurt her. When she does something to hurt me or my siblings or my father or herself, I kind of just shrug it off, because I can't really stay mad at her. And maybe that's not right, or productive, or helpful, but the longer I reflect on my conception, the more I just can't bare to do anything else to hurt or inconvenience her, because I was already born.

So yes, I hate God, because if God exists, that means his plan was to take my 15 year old mother, and absolutely f*ck her shit up, just so her eldest son could go on to... Be a virgin nerd college dropout in a cult with a nonprofit. I guess that's something? I'm not really seeing the vision because God is not real. There is no plan, there is just chaos. An imperfect world full of imperfect people seeking the logic and reason in illogical and unreasonable beings. We are driven by so many complex and contradictory emotions and chemicals and hormones and traumas and motivations that we can't see past our own noses sometimes. And you know what? I'm okay with that. I've made my peace with that. I'm responsible for myself, the people around me, and the actions I make that affect everything they touch. I like that, that feels more like free will. Sorting through competing impulses, learning discipline to make wise decisions, choosing when to sacrifice and when to indulge, weighing my perceived pros and cons, making a decision and committing to it, or only going halfway and backing my way out and watching it fall apart or turning my back on it entirely to avoid the consequences, if I can outrun them. But if you take that agency away from me, and tell me there's some divine being pulling all the strings, watching me and knowing every move I'll ever make before I ever even started playing, that shit sounds rigged. And why does some omnipotent, omnipresent, omni-loving motherfucker need to design a "perfect vessel" in "His Image" and give it the capacity to rape, murder and genocide? Was that really necessary in the design? You created these intelligent, reasoning creatures and damned half of them to darkness from birth and also decided the cherry on top was that they ought to be able to torture and destroy and hurt each other? That was necessary? And don't come at me with the suffering bullshit. We can suffer knowing our dogs will die before we do, we can suffer knowing that grandma isn't gonna see us graduate, we can suffer when we fall from a high place and break a leg, we can suffer when our hearts are broken by the perfect girl. We don't NEED the depths of suffering that come from the Japanese Empire's Literal "Rape of Nanking" or Nazi Germany's "Camps". Our all loving all powerful divine King looked at that shit and said "yeah I fucks with that lets ship it". And don't Devil bullshit me. Who created the fucking Devil??? The Devil has NO power that God doesn't give it. Women get periods and painful, life-risking child births because one of them decided to eat an apple and God said "fuck all of you". Fuck God. I hate God, and I'm so GOD DAMN glad that He is not REAL. Because if, IF, I'm wrong, I have a #1 hater and a nemesis, a sworn enemy and I have got to kill HIM. If God is real and instead of returning to the nothingness from whence I came I instead find myself being judged at the pearly gates, it is ON SIGHT. If God's damning me to Hell, I'm dragging him down with me. Because it is better to reign in Hell than to serve in His Heaven, if I'm gonna go full Devil Trigger.

If you believe in God, that's cool. There are reasonable, principle, moral, social, logical, personal reasons to believe in a higher power and want to find your purpose through it. I respect you and I respect your decision, I just don't respect your God, and I hope that you can separate those distinctions, because it's never me vs you if it's me vs your god. I can root against your favorite football team or think that your communist ideology is flawed too, that don't mean we can't get along. When I've spoken with creationists in less extensive debates, they always jump to "how can something come from nothing" and golly gee man I don't fucking know dude. I'm not born to know that. We can't time travel back to the beginning of everything, we can only study what's going on right here and now, and interpret what's left from back then. It's all theory and study and deduction and in 200 years it'll probably all be proven wrong anyways. I don't care how we got here, what we do know is WE ARE HERE, we are here right now, and there is no way of knowing what comes next. All we really know is we have this one life, because no one you've ever met came back from the other side or remembers what came before. That or they are making shit up, as all humans do. So why not live your life the way you want, pursue the things you like and are passionate about, and help and improve your community right now, because tomorrow is never guaranteed. Today is a gift from God and that's why they call it the present.

So when I'm hit with the gotcha of "something from nothing" all I can ever really think is "me born from rape" and it's not a polite thing to say, and I try to be more Obama and not say impolite things in public. Maybe it's a chip on my shoulder, it left me feeling guilty for some time, but really, it saved me from the delusion of some higher being with a plan and made me believe in my own agency and responsibility for my actions, the kinds of things that the predator who created me didn't think about when he was taking advantage of a minor. It's okay, I'm okay. In fact, what this long-winded expository life story expose was written for was to detail my background and mindset about gods, so that I can once again drag you through the muddy rabbit hole and synthesize everything with my relationship to the God of War, Kratos, the Ghost of Sparta.

To make a long story told across several incredible video games full of awesome and gory hack 'n' slash action with emotionally resonant stories with depth deeper than the shallow waters they trudge in, Kratos is a demigod, born into the Greek Pantheon as yet another bastard child of Zeus. What made Kratos special was his brother Deimos, who was borne with markings on his body that fit a prophecy which said a marked warrior would one day k1ll the gods and topple mount olympus. So Ares and Athena popped on the scene and latta'd his kid brother. To honor him, Kratos tattooed the same markings on himself, became a top ranking Spartan general, aaaand then got 300'd by some barbarians, and in his dying breath, swore allegiance and fealty to the God of War, Ares

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Ares molded him into a perfect killing machine and a weapon of war, wielding the powerful Blades of Chaos permanently singed into the arms of his new warrior. Kratos was devout and loyal and did whatever the god asked of him, including ransacking and murderizing a town for the glory of his god. Only, as Kratos came down from his bloodlusted rage in service to Ares, he discovered that he had slain with his own hands, his wife and daughter in service to his god. As Kratos mourned the loss of his loved ones, at the design of the gods, Ares came to gloat that it would make him a great warrior. Ashamed and suicidal, Kratos engaged in as many self destructive vices as he could to hide from the guilt and bury the memory of what he had done as a monster for a god, and as Ares grew power hungry in the pantheon, Kratos was eventually recruited by sympathetic gods to take Ares down once and for all, and given the promise that his memories of his atrocity would be erased. So he embarked on a journey of epic proportions, even being slain by Ares, only to prove he was the original man too angry to die and to crawl out of Hades himself for some sweet revenge to gain the power needed to slay a god, which he did, only to be uno reverse carded and betrayed by the gods again, who instead of taking his memories from him, crowned him the new god of war. And that was just the beginning. Then he was doing usual God of War things like Ares before him, only for Zeus to grow extremely paranoid about the whole marked warrior thing and the fact that Kratos had in fact, killed a god, so he set off to do some dirty work himself and get ahead of fate and kill Kratos himself... Only for Kratos to be too angry to die, crawl back out of Hades, knock down the doors of the sisters of Fate and literally beat fate and take control of it for himself, travelling back in time to stop Zeus from killing him and then declaring war on all of Olympus. A war which, depsite its ups and downs, trials and tribulations, he was destined to win through sheer will alone.

But there are consequences to killing a god, and there are even more consequences to killing a pantheon of gods. Floods, disease, pestilence, hunger, darkness, and fear gripped the world of man in a ravaging vice as Kratos stood over the ruins of the new world he created by burning the old one to ash, in his quest for revenge he had lost his humanity and become a mindless monster, hellbent on destruction and ruin, no matter the cost, but now, at the very end, a mind once drunk on blood is sobered by the agony of bloodloss. There was only one god left to kill, that is, when Athena appeared, claiming to have ascended beyond Olympus into a realm of godhood above gods, and now that Olympus had fallen, she would return to rule over all that was left. Kratos, ever ready to stick it to the gods one last time, used the powers he had accrued in the destruction of the gods to destroy himself and free the power of hope to the people of the world, to make their own lives free from the gods, and seemingly ended his own life with his own hands, denying Athena her master plan's payoff and freeing mankind once and for all.

Until you fast forward, some amount of years, decades or centuries is unknown, Kratos lives in isolation in the wintery world of midguard, having travelled across the world into a new land, one ruled by new gods with new rules. A land where the now much more mild mannered and even tempered Kratos once again tries to raise a family and move on from his dark past, avoiding the gaze of the gods, he is successful for some time, until the death of his wife, this time not by any malicious hands, sends him on a quest across the realms and into the path of the gods. Along the way he must teach and bond with his son all while attempting to hide his past and suppress his old violent habits borne from his inner rage. All this comes to a head as the boy begins manifesting his godly abilities but becomes ill by the contradictions his mind believes he is mortal but his body is that of a god, resulting in a sickness that could kill him, all because his father would not tell him the truth of his nature. Kratos is forced to dig up the old blades of chaos to venture into a realm where no fire can exist, except that of the primordial flames his blades produce, and encounter visions and spectres of his past which haunt and tease him, reminding him he cannot escape what he has done, for what he is, is a monster. Kratos remarks "But I am your monster no more" before using his blades not to destroy, but to save, not for revenge, but for love, ultimately rescuing his son and telling him the truth. Their quest continues and brings them into confrontation with the new gods of this realm, the Aesir, the gods who rule from Asgard, and as confrontations boil over Kratos is once again pushed to become what he was made to be, a godslayer. But as the saying goes, there are consequences to killing a god, something he must impress upon his son after the boy becomes vengeful. Their quest ends when they are faced with the near unkillable Baldur, a man who feels no pain and heals from any wound, a near equal to Kratos in strength and fury, who was cursed by his mother who feared prophecy that he would be slain someday. Her curse, meant to protect, was an overcorrect, as his lack of feelings drove him mad, numb from the numbness, he seeks to kill her in revenge, only for Kratos to intervene, and kill the unkillable god thanks to the help of the magic mistletoe-as-kryptonite arrows his son used to break the spell. "The cycle ends here" was Kratos' proclamation after urging Baldur to back down from repeating history and slaying his parents in revenge. And yet, there are consequences to killing a god. The death of Baldur signals the coming of Ragnarok, the end times. In attempting to stop the cycle, Kratos has only pushed it further.

This all comes to a head when Kratos is backed into corner after corner by the Norns, Norse Mythology's weavers of Fate, and the machinations of Odin the Allfather, who pits his Asgardians against Kratos and Atreus until they are both forced to play the roles they were born into, ultimately toppling Asgard and it's gods, once again freeing another world from the oppression of the gods, allowing them to make their own destinies, and to finally allow Kratos to find some peace, as the end of the game reveals that Kratos is prophesized to shed away his guilt and shame and pain and become a god worshipped by the people, rather than feared by them, at least until the next pantheon comes aknockin' on his door and forcing him to become that fateful godslayer once more.

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This is an incredibly abridged version of Kratos' story, and one that doesn't do the whole of his character full justice, but it is important to outline his journey and give as much context as possible without doing a head over heels deep dive. The point is this, Kratos kills gods and commands his own fate. Those two things have always stuck with me. One of my favorite times playing video games was the entirety of God of War 2, which was my first time playing a game in the series, where the spectacle and hack n slash action was taken to a satisfying and fun peak, and the idea that the whole plot is just Kratos being too angry to die that he defies and defeats fate itself to undo his death is just fucking cool, man. So, when I heard the first few lines of Miracle of Sounds' song, "Break the hard chains of fate, roads we walk we create, for our futures are wide and vast" I was already starting to well up with emotion, from the nostalgia of that old game, paired with the rich journey in the new game, and the thematic truth I have come to believe in, that we are not static or unchanging, that we are not just the people we were born to be, but that the human spirit allows us to be who we choose to be. It is not easy, it is filled with trials and perils and backslides, and we are not perfect, but if we make good decisions, if we choose to do good things, we can overcome the beasts deep within, cast our fury into our past, and choose to be better at last.

I've made a lot of mistakes and I've let a lot of people down in my life. Every failure, every perceived shortcoming, every time I intentionally or unintentionally chose to be less than the person I want to be, haunts me. I have burned entire relationships with communities and individuals to the ground. I have chosen a scorched Earth over a long road to recovery and reconciliation. I once thought I had a "found family" in my former friends from the Theater Production Class of my 8th grade year. Comprised of some long-running friendships from Elementary all through middle school, I had known many of them for a long time at that point. Having spent many extracurricular hours together creating the bonds that only stageplay performances can create between its cast and crew. I had even been unanimously elected into a leadership position as theater club president, a position I did not originally volunteer for, as I was reticent to take on any position of power, being scared of what that might make me into. Yet, when the 8th grade year started and the position was vacant, before I could choose to run for the position, half the class told me it should be mine, and ever seeking to please and impress my peers, I ran and won a largely uncontested race after giving an impromptu speech about responsibility and commitment and passion to the craft. An event nearly mirrored some years later when I would intentionally run for the position of Inaugural Star Bandit Council Member, though I had more time to prepare and actually wanted the position, it was one that I seemed to slide into with little effort despite, or perhaps because of the gravity of it's responsibilities. That is one of the curious things I have discovered of myself, I never have much trouble taking responsibility or accountability for something, even when at times it feels intimidating or its something that should not be my fault or warrant my involvement, I am not afraid to take the heat and deal with the consequences, yet when there is a position which entails decision making, leadership, or "power" otherwise, I am scared shitless and reticent to involve myself. Perhaps its because I want to do the work and make things happen, but I don't want to disappoint or fall short of the expectations that come with being "a good leader". Sometimes I just like being a goon, following a plan, clearing a path for someone else's vision that drives me to passion.

Sometimes I think I'm best fit for a role which requires me to be accountable and involved, but not wholly in charge of the decisions and the crafting of a cohesive scheme. I much prefer being pitched a plan, tossing it around in my head, picking it apart, adding flesh to its bones, and returning it to its originator with a stronger idea than before. It's a role that I find more comfortable, but its also perhaps an easy thing that just anyone can do. Its easy to poke holes in a canvas than it is to paint a picture on one. I often wonder if I only fear the idea of "power" because of Thomas Jefferson's quote about its corrosive qualities.

"Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely".

That I internalized such an idea at a young age that it stunted me from taking on the challenges that come from power and influence. Then I remember that my parents had power over me, and that they had their share of powertrips, that their parents parents, my grandparents had power over them and me, and powertripped, and politicians and priests and people all the world over, once given the power to do as they please and take advantage of other people's vulnerabilities or weaknesses, often must resist the urge to powertrip, or be absolutely corrupted by their power and do awful deeds which hurt and destroy.

I am afraid of power because I am afraid of myself, of what I might do when I become powerful. I worry that even my resolve and moral character can be corroded and hollowed out if not kept in check, something that becomes more and more difficult with ascending tiers of power. A scene from one of my favorite TV shows, Mr Robot, demonstrated what this anxiety or insecurity of mine looks like in manifest. Terry Colby is rich, powerful, and hollow, a good businessman. Through his position in his ultra powerful corporation, "E Corp", he helped cover up a chemical leak which gave cancer to many of his employees, a decision which became a death sentence for so many and which was the spark that lit the shows world on fire, as the main characters are the children of those workers. Yet, when backed into a corner and questioned on how and why he made such a decision, Colby casually recalls the air of the room, in which he and his peers lavished in decadence while they logically and callously decided to cover up their own failures, dooming their employees to desolation, all because a lawsuit would be cheaper than an actual fix. The piece that always stuck with me was that Colby acknowledged that he knew there was a human cost unaccounted for, but that, when all was said and done, he went home, ate breakfast the next day, and carried on, and soon enough it stopped mattering, because it never actually affected him in the first place. That callousness, the insensitive apathy held towards the people whose lives he had power over, that is what makes me afraid of power. When human lives are just numbers on a spreadsheet. This deep-seeded fear of mine manifests not just in my own reticence, but in a strange resentment of those who do take up these positions with perceived ease and calm. I resent my managers, even the most human and empathetic of them, I resent my government officials, even the ones I vote for or who pass laws I want. I struggle against myself and these feelings I have about power and people who seek it out. It can even make some interpersonal relationships tense as I project some of these insecurities onto people undeserving of such derision.

In Dragon Ball Z Budokai Tenkaichi 3, before Goku turns Super Saiyan 3 and uses his Dragon Fist attack, he exclaims "if I don't who will?" And that has always stuck with me. A call to action so simple yet so complete. If something must be done, we must step up and do it ourselves, else they will never happen at all. It is a modus operandi I operate on most of the time. If I don't take charge, who will? If I don't fix this, who will? If I don't strike up a conversation, who will? Sometimes there are others who will, oftentimes there are not. When I encounter those rare people who have a similar inclination to taking up the cause or leading the way, I often find it easy to step out of their way and provide my support, opting to help push them forward instead of dueling for the front of the locomotive, as every train needs a caboose.

Almost every one of my heroes was reluctant. Marc Spector killed for money until a change of heart sent him on a quest for redemption. Elisa Cameron woke up as a ghost with no memories of her previous life, having to overcome prejudices and piece together who she used to be, Jessica Cruz has to overcome anxiety, PTSD, and herself to focus her willpower on heroics, Bruce Banner believes he is the monster his dad saw him as, denying himself close relationships, Vic Sage was a selfish loner who fought for pleasure and thrills until he was broken by a question he couldn't answer, Kratos was hellbent on revenge and conquest before ever fighting for hope. Even historical figures I find fascinating had that reluctance to ascension to power, Washington was asked to run by the new republic, Lincoln wasn't going to free anyone until the South forced his hand, Oppenheimer created a weapon to end the world, and felt shame and guilt for his actions. There are consequences to the decisions we make. That is never far from my mind.

I've derailed from one of the points I wanted to make. In 8th grade I had what felt like a home away from home, something I have spent much of my life searching for, and something that I sometimes wonder if I may ever find forever. (The Star Band of Its friend group has outlasted the others by years, to which I would like to credit myself in part due to my patience and efforts to be a glue that binds and mends these characters' lives together. But I wonder as to the truth of that. As there have been times when in trying to diffuse I inadvertently stoked a fire that would erupt into a chaotic meltdown, and other times still when I was given pieces of information and manipulated into action and side-taking that would have never occurred when tempered against a complete story and the whole, honest truth. Worse still, there have been moments, hours, days, when that once dormant storm warmed inside me and became a hurricane of rage which rained down fury on those undeserving, no matter the slights they pulled to upset me, but lets get back to the point). I felt that I was close to these friends and that I knew them and that I had a place in their lives. Then I moved away, 2,000 miles to California. On my way out, I collected all their cell numbers so I could keep in touch with them. I would text them everyday as I walked home from school. At first it went well. I'd receive regular communication from most and it felt good to continue to be connected to these people I valued. Then as time went on replies got scarcer and scarcer. Not only were the responses less, but they were lesser, more small talk, less conversation. The friendships were drying up and I began to worry about how they actually felt about me. Was I annoying them? Was it too much? Maybe they were just busy. My favorite way to cope with disinterested spirits. Maybe they just had a lot going on and would get back to me in time. So, I waited. I stopped texting first, and I waited for the real ones to reach out. And no one did, at least, none of the ones I had expected or thought I wanted. The people who reached out were the people I thought I was least connected to, the ones who I felt existed on the outside of my ingroup. The distant cousins of my found family. Yet these friends reached out all the same, despite my undervaluing of their time and effort. And before long I learned that those people I thought I knew so well, didn't have many kind things to say about me when I was not in the room. I felt that resentment begin to build.

I went long periods without contacting them at all, waiting, waiting, fuming, stoking the flames of quiet discontentment. California was supposed to be a temporary departure from my regular life, it turned out to instead be a turning point that changed the trajectory of myself forever. I fell for a girl, but feared her rejection, so stored those feelings safe away as I soon discovered she had eyes for another. Yet we grew closer nonetheless, in part due to my insistence to be near her. She was my first friend in this foreign land where people look at you wrong when you hold the door open for them, and react with surprise or suspicion when you say "yes ma'am, no ma'am, yes sir, no sir" because no one ever taught them manners or that politeness we foster here in the South in the name of hospitality. I walked her to every class I could, and she was delighted to see me and spend time with me. I felt a gravity around her that I've never felt around anyone before or after, an unmitigable well of energy and enthusiasm for the world and all who inhabit it, a raw love for the world that warmed my heart in a time that felt so full of despair. When I first saw her I wrote her off as just some cringey nerd girl who didn't know anything but the textbooks in front of her. How right I was, how wrong I was. We sat next to each other in English class. I noticed her big poofey hair and liked it. She was noisy and a people pleaser, a teachers pet, a tried and true nerd. She reached out to me because I was the new guy, and that made me interesting. We eventually traded numbers. I taught her about Shrek is love, Shrek is life, she taught me about Filthy Frank. I realized this weird cringey nerd girl had something close to an edge to her, despite her naievette, and soon fell for her hard. I don't think she ever noticed, but she felt something too. (She once rejected to read the role of Juliet during a class reading of Romeo & as I was chosen to read for Romeo and she thought it was "too awkward". How would that be awkward between two people who are just friends?) We texted all day and night, from dawn to dusk. Through the school day and at the dinner table. She got in trouble with her dad who, for some reason, monitored the volume of text messages she sent each month. Despite her phone plan providing unlimited, infinite text message exchanges between her and whoever she was talking to, he scrutinized the numbers and was flabbergasted when she went from sending less than a hundred texts a month to several hundred or over a thousand a month, regularly. I guess that would cause some concern to any helicopter parent, as any abnormality is a sign of change, and change is scary when we can't control it.

But we texted anyways, in spite of his growing concern for his daughter's erratic behavior. She wasn't allowed to befriend boys in fear of retaliation from her father. She also wasn't allowed sleepovers, or birthday parties, or much of a social life outside of school in general. She wasn't allowed social media so when the concern over our texts grew to be too much we switch to... email, Gmail, to be specific, and google hangouts, a chat thread built into google mail. Our friendship was a secret, and my deeper feelings even moreso. It was almost a forbidden love. The kind in which the desire to prove it and triumph in spite of the opposition was so desirable, so fiercely "romantic" that I fell into a deep pit of love that took me years to recover from. She liked another guy. I knew this when I met him, he knew me when I met him. His first interaction with me was to question my feelings towards her. He asked, "do you have a crush on her?", to which, I lied, saying we were just friends. Perhaps that was the beginning of my own undoing, but it was also the beginning of his as well. I resolved then to drive as much of a wedge between them as I could. Little, small things that could mount into a wider divide. I was being ultra-present, to deny them time alone. When she would bring him up, I would question him, his intentions, and his actions towards her. Once I made her doubt him, his doom would be sealed. I remember much of this coming to a head when I hosted that Interfaith panel I spoke about earlier in the r/atheism section of this essay, but as host I was running around the venue the whole time with a mic to field audience questions. I was very good. I remember discovering the girl I liked sitting with the boy I disliked, and I noticed an evident uncomfortable disposition in her, and a desparate obliviousness in him. He wanted her to be his girlfriend, she wasn't sure about it. But they were holding hands. I felt a fire burn through my circulatory system. This would not stand. So, I used the one weapon I had honed for the occasion, I snuck up behind them during intermission, and asked a simple, piercing question

Do you feel enlightened yet?

With that, I accomplished my goal of c*ckblocking and disrupting, demonstrating that I was present and aware of them, and that they were not alone if I was around. The rest of the night went off without a hitch, I had chased him away for now, and kept my friend single another day for me to stay close to. The other guy of course continued his own pursuits, long after my dysfunctional family had a collective meltdown that necessitated an early move back to Texas a whole year earlier than planned, but I had planted enough seeds of doubt, enough distrust of him and his shifty, possessive, manipulative nature, that he lost what little chance he had from the start.

Or did I? Did she ever really like him? By her own admission she did, would it have ever mounted had I not weaseled and wedged my way into their relationship? Different parties will draw different interpretations. My power is not absolute, but my ability to persuade is relatively adept when juggling the right pieces and from a position of close enough confidence. I would have made for a terrible boyfriend. I knew that, even then. I never asked her out. My own closeted repression and angst over my insecurities about wielding power and manipulation and social engineering learned through my time crafting a mask through the theater arts led me to avoid getting close enough to hurt her. But I still had to tell her how I felt. Eventually. So I waited, and I waited, and then one night my mom and dad had a fight and my dad pulled out his guns for a late night "cleaning" and my mom laughed at him and told him to kill himself and I cautiously, and quietly, slowly, painstakingly carefully as my body was riddled with fear of a murder suicide(Some say its the way to go!), secretly moved my pillow and blanket into the garage, as my room was connected to it through a door. Not a sound was made opening or closing the door, and I lay on the floor, listening intently for any sound that would signal a need to call the police and run from my home. I didn't think my father would actually do anything. But I knew he COULD do something, the story of a man driven to the brink and going postal on his family is nothing new in the world of true crime. It was the remotest possibility, but one I needed to be aware of and prepared for. When the muffled crying of my father or mother ceased and the house returned to silence, and I no longer felt the impending dread of tragedy about to strike, as the clock neared an hour before it was time to "wake up" for my walk to school, I silently, carefully, noiselessly, moved back into my bed and waited for my mom to open the door to "wake me up", hoping it would be my mother and nothing more dangerous.

That was an awful day at school, spent on the verge of tears all day trying to process my own self-inflicted scrape with near death. I was likely never in any danger at all as my dad didn't go postal, but even as the remotest possibility it only made sense that I secure myself. I was a zombie mortified by the lingering drain felt from the flushing of adrenaline, unable to focus and oh so very sad. I eventually broke into tears when my English teacher inquired about my dismal condition. The fights between my parents continued, never escalating to the height, or perhaps low, from that dreadful one, but the dysfunctional family was dysfunctioning and soon enough it was announced that my dad was leaving his job, the very job we moved across the country to live under the income of, and would be returning home a year earlier than anticipated, as an emotionally, financially, and spiritually crippled household. Thus the burden of affection I had shielded so closely to my heart demanded an early release. I would tell her how I felt about her on the last day of school, so that there could be no awkward phase of recalibration, and perhaps more importantly, no painful reminder of the rejection I knew was coming. As, before she could turn me away, it was the good lord above who ensured we could never have a chance in the first place by sending me back to where I came from. So, I wrote two pages of a confessional, devotional, honest love letter declaring my truest feelings in as few words as possible. On the day of delivery I pulled her aside, gave her the paper, and opened my heart to her.

She laughed in my face.

"This is a joke, you're joking" was not the reply I had anticipated. An "I don't feel the same way" or "I wish you told me sooner but lets just stay friends" or even an "ewwww" were in the cards, but not outright denial of my truth. Perhaps I had kept my feelings too closely guarded, or perhaps with an unclear intent both in my heart and desires made it impossible to decipher what it was I had wanted from the friendship. And friendship is what I had wanted. But the feelings I had kept deep inside made me want more from a relationship that would have been doomed to long distance and a high school experience. I had simultaneously felt that she was "the one" perfect partner for me but was aware it was a doomed dynamic from outside my heart. Her father would never let it happen, living 2,000 miles away would make seeing each other impossible, and all other variables aside, its not what she wanted. I knew that ever since I met and secretly sabotaged the other guy. I listened as she gushed about other boys and kpop stars and all the little crushes she had informed me from the beginning that it was my heart which would end up being crushed. But letting go is such a hard thing to do. Letting go of that feeling you get when your phone lights up from a new message she sent you, the weightlessness of your steps as you walk together and talk about nothing, the hearty laugh when a funny joke is told. The eternal moment of being lost in someone's eyes. But I was a fool, and a determined one. Because as I said to my confidant at the time, "You can see a bullet coming, that doesn't mean you'll be able to dodge it".

The rejection pierced my heart as I knew it would, whether its delivery method was anticipated or not, and then I moved away. I left it all behind to return to a place I had hoped would be familiar, so that I could actually forget that crazy wacky no good year in the hell state. We returned to our family home which had been lent out to a friend of my mom's, so we had some sense of normalcy, as though we had never left. That all changed when we tried to go back to school. I lived in the city of Deer Park, and for all the years I had lived in the city of Deer Park I had gone to schools within the Deer Park school district. It was in this school district that my friends, and projected found family, resided. Despite our patchy long distance near fallout, and the chip on my shoulder I felt about their seeming ignoring of me, I was confident a return to an in person relationship at the big Deer Park high school would be enough to get us back on track. It was never meant to be. For, despite living within the city and going to the school district which shared its name, I lived in Deer Park city, but La Porte school district.

La Porte was the next town over and for some zoning reason I do not know, my neighborhood was within its reach EVEN THOUGH the Deer Park High school was closer to my house than the La Porte High school. It was an extra five or so minutes of driving to go to the school I was "assiged" to. As it turned out, the only reason I had been going to Deer Park schools was because we once DID live in Deer park School District, when our family resided in a tiny apartment home complex called... "Park Town" during the first and second grade of my school years. Then, when my parents finally bought a house, the house we lived in from the third grade onto the eighth grade and returned to during my sophomore year of high school, we moved to La Porte ISD. I only stayed in Deer Park because I had been grandfathered into the system through its "open enrollment" system and my having stayed within that district for so long. When we appealed to return to the school we had known, we were rejected, several times. My mother even got so far as to talk over the phone to the superintendent of the district, a man who had previously been principal of my middle school who had multiple one on one meetings with me to congratulate me for my academic and extracurricular achievements, turned me away, sourly.

That rejection, the rejection of the culmination of all my acheivement and accolades that I had worked hard for, highest GPA several years in a row, second place in a district wide Theater Arts UIL competition, Theater Club President, Honor Society, being privileged enough to be bussed to the same high school I was now trying to go to because my innate talents and skill when calculating mathematics was two years ahead of my age group, a privilege only one other person shared with me, a school program he knew about, endorsed and had to approve for me to ever participate in. I'm not going on some ego-trip when I say that THIS person knew what I was bringing to his school district, and I was denied all the same. If you ever wonder when the disenchantment with academia and schooling in general began, it was sitting there and watching my mother face my rejection over the phone. All my hard work, overacheiving, and educational discipline meant nothing as I was cast away from the place I knew and left to be neglected in a school district that could not meet my needs.

What is disenfranchisement supposed to do to someone besides build resentment?

So to La Porte I went, during the blackout year that was Sophomore year of high school. When I transferred in, despite all my advanced curriculum credits and acheivements, I was placed in "normal" classes, which to me were not normal, but instead SLOW and BORING and UNCHALLENGING and CLASSES I HAD ALREADY COMPLETED. Most egregious was math, where I should have been taking Pre-calculus I was instead placed in fucking Geometry. Do you KNOW how far behind me was? I took Geometry in 8th grade, now as a Sophomore, I was taking it again! My discontent was made known when I informed the teacher my placement was an error that would be corrected. And soon enough, corrected it was and I was placed back on the correct trajectory, Advanced Placement or Pre-Advanced Placement over regular curriculum classes, and I had enough credits leveraged to be the sole sophomore student in Pre-Calculus, an advanced Junior-level class, placing me back in my throne of being two years ahead of my peers in mathematics. Though this time I sat alone, as my friend was now also alone at Deer Park in their advanced trajectories. To say I slept through Sophomore Year is a literal statement. I had not yet given up on returning to my stomping grounds in deer Park, and was convinced once Open Enrollment opened up I could be returned. So I sought no permanent ties and no reason to root myself at La Porte. When lecture was finished, and my busy work was done, I would place my head down on the desk, and I would sleep, or pretend to sleep rather, as often times I was just staring at the dark side of my eyelids, imagining being out of this awful place. I began efforts to reconnect with the world I spent a year away from.

That first year in La Porte high school proved to be transformative for many. I felt an outsider among "my people" who didn't seem all too eager to spend time with or around me. My best friend had made a habit of lying and behaving in performative ways that were untrue to the person I grew up with. My few California friends, and the very special friends I had made through the YouTube comments section that I only knew digitally, seemed to be the only real friends I had, and they weren't around to help me. They could only hear my cries of agony as I languished in self-imposed social exile at school, and suffered being the ugly buckling in my herd of deer. Things weren't any better at home. Teenage angst and a lifetime of dysfunction pitted my father and I against each other many, many times. if ever there was a worst year of my life, it was Sophomore Year, and it really isn't any wonder then why I don't remember most of it, and how much of it has been intentionally, or subconsciously blocked out and forgotten as the darkest time in my life. Dark, because there was an absence of light.

The only thing that shone through the dark was the school's AV class, which was carried by a kind bleeding heart named Mr. Z, who noticed my abilities within audio video production and sought to advance me into his pet-class, LPTV. I told him, rather coldly, it wasn't going to happen, not because I didn't want it, because I did truthfully really, REALLY wanted to be in that class, but because "I was going to go back to Deer Park". At the end of the year I signed up for the class anyways, just in case. Sure enough, I didn't go back to Deer Park. I was rejected, again, it stung less this time. By this point, I had just about given up on my old "found family". I didn't feel respected or involved, they never invited me to things, and when I would show up I was greeted with cold shoulders. I'm painting with a broad brush. Some of them liked me. Some of them maintained a friendship with me. But the group dynamic was gone, and I felt homeless. This isolation, it paired poorly with an unfortunately popular online trend at the time. As you may know, this was around 2015-2016, when the internet was at its edgiest. Filthy Frank, the content creator I had grown to idolize, as introduced to me by the girl I was infatuated by, became a model for my humor that was just not flying around the group I wanted to be a part of. In fact, provocative, "ironic" awfulness only ever ensured I drifted apart from them. They didn't have the context, they didn't have the intimate understanding of irony. They didn't know, that the person acting like an asshole wasn't trying to BE an asshole, but was just trying to make them laugh by behaving like an asshole, because its.... Ironic.

Or is it? It turns out that when you behave like an ass, people will view you as an ass. No amount of context, irony, or excuses change the outcome of your intentions. In going into their group chats to shitpost and say offensive or derogatory statements as a childish and immature form of "satire, social commentary, or pure comedy" I was further pushing those people I cared about away. In the end, it only made for the perfect excuse to leave me behind, one fateful night when my "trolling" took things to the logical conclusion. Discontent from disconnectedness, I pushed the line as far as I could until I crossed it, using edginess to be combative and truly playing on an offensive, I lit the the match that burned the tattered bridge between my former friends and myself. When confronted for my behavior I spoiled the safety of our space further by adding my online friends who none of them knew, telling my rallied forces that this was a trolling campaign in retaliation to wrongs done to me, that I was being ganged on and needed reinforcements. Ever loyal, my "true" friends stood by my side and dished out further damage, until any hope of restoring my old relationships was lost. The few who remained attached to me reached out for understanding, trying to figure me out, and wanting to be heard I attempted to rationalize my behavior, that I believed the old ties would need to be burned away so that new ones could be built over them, stronger than ever, likening myself to a phoenix and making known a desire for reconciliation. But who wants to reconcile with a belligerent? Why would you want to take the hand of the person who pushed you over and spit on you? Its easier to pick yourself up and walk away from the person who hurt you in the first place, so that's what most of them did.

The two who stuck around, olive branches and good graces extended to me, only really served as a reminder of all I had lost in my blaze of ironic glory. I wanted them to make up for lost time and severed ties, I wanted the comfort and safety of the family I didn't have at home. They did what they could, I do believe, but no one can stay close to a burning flame forever, lest they be burned as the others were. I maintained these final friendships as long as I could, desperate for a place to belong, desperate for companionship and to be close to people who valued me, only to learn for the final time that I do not matter to people just because they matter to me. In attempting to find solace with one of these friends, I confided in him the stress I was under due to the volatile conditions at home. His response? "Stop talking about your problems".

What is a friendship, if we cannot struggle together? Lean on each other when times are hard, find safety in each others confidence? Well, the discontentedness reared its ugly head again, and let out a final roar. This bridge was to be burned to ash and left to settle in the river, never to be built again.

I grew antagonistic, picking fights, arguments, anything. Anything I could to provoke so that we could settle the space between us with a truth: DO NOT CROSS, we are not friends. Eventually, he bit and in some very spirited DMs I became the worst version of myself I could have been. I played the role of the villain, allowing him to be the victim of angry, hate-fueled lashing with words. Telling him everything I thought, everything I felt, and layering it all with language that would give me the appearance of evil, so that we could go from this false friendship into a new phase: former friends. I wanted him to hate me so that I would never have to think about him again. And amidst all the irony I claimed to post, the greatest was this: I've never stopped thinking about that friend.

Because I did him dirty, I sabotaged the frayed threads dangling our friendship on its ends, severing the connection with a finality that would leave no room for redemption. It is the one falling out in life I regret the most, and the one I carry the most shame over, because despite what perceived slights or interpreted falseness existed in the rippling reflections between us, he was my friend, and I did care about him.

This self-destructive, "I will become the villain you made me into" was a recurrent motif in my high school years. When push came to shove, and trouble poked its ugly head out from hiding, I would release whatever pent up frustration existed inside me and wear it as a mask to become the phantom of my own terrible opera. Creating such despicable characters that would ruin the relationships I had once so eagerly cared for. There was another girl, many of you know the story, most of you at this point may not. I was troubled, and she was constantly in trouble. When I first fell for her I prophesized my own ruin of the friendship when I thought to myself what our future may look like. Rolling an 8-ball in my head, the outlook was not so good. We grew close, I learned of her boyfriend, I found every fault he had, every failure of a partner he embodied, and I poked, prodded, needled and sowed the seeds of their destruction, pulling loose threads and yanking carpets, I helped manifest a much-desired break-up. In my defense he was a loser who didn't understand consent and he desperately needed to be done away with, but my intentions where not so pure as protecting a friend, so much as they were to get this person single, now aided by the knowledge that he was despicable. So desperate to fill the gaps, I turned him and his silly, absent minded quotes into a running joke between us, helping grow us closer. We found ourselves on the phone every night, sometimes even Skype, in a time before discord, we'd fall asleep listening to each other breathe. Then there was another guy who came along, bolder than me, proclaiming his love for she. I realized then that I hadn't completed my machinations, having only made her single. I followed after him, detailing my desire. She relented, and the two of us agreed to "figure it out" and "take it slow". Little did I know, slow was merely a pace at which time could be bought for someone to come along much bolder than me, once again. In a dramatic twist of fate, this man abandoned his girlfriend to seduce the girl I was fixated on, wrecking it all in one fell swoop. Despite a previous promise I had made to not feel betrayed should she dare to stray onto a new path without me(for I swore my love was selfless and unwanting), all I could feel was fear, fear and rage and confusion at the alarming bell of rejection and failure. It didn't help that the situation at my home didn't fare any better, as my father struck my mother. All that timid mild-mannered patience burst once again as I let loose the anger I had buried within. Thus, we find ourselves in a loop, as I had written about this friend whom I hurt, back in the entry where I wrote about Hulk, Bloodrayne, and my father. In the fallout of my rampage in which I promised to become the evil one to be so despised once again, I simultaneously swore that I was to become a phoenix once more and be reborn. How many times was that, then? From a Christian baptised under a new name, to an atheist shedding off some shame, I fell to a new rock bottom after playing a heart's game. Neither would this be the last time, as I was again born again the day I stepped away from the degree I was expected to see. Then once more when I shed my hair to please all but myself. How many times must I be broken and remade before Robbie Bland ceases to mean anything at all?

Whatever the case, lets tie up this knot: despite it all, the tumult and pain, the two of us eventually found a satisfactory friendship in which our wounds could be mended and our hearts healed over. Despite my manipulations and false intentions, I respected this friend enough to apologize and forgive. Something the people we left in our past paths often neglected to do. It took awhile, but I got over her too. That's when and why this blog was made. I felt I needed to vent without becoming sus, so I wrote here, into a void where no one would see or care, but me. My own little channel for accountability. A place to confess and profess, to avoid protest and getting lost in my own head. In truth, I've found this place to be a refuge and a safe place, a fortress of solitude to brood and reflect. I forced myself to a breaking point mentally and emotionally so that I could begin learning to let go. Let go of all the shattered pieces of my broken heart, let go of all the bruises left by my father's belt, and let go of all the hatred I bore for the man in the mirror. In the last 5 or 6 years, I've come a long way from hiding in the corner of my shared bedroom typing my insomnia away. I made a breakthrough big enough to share, and eventually found I could make this place a record of all the writings I've made. And why? Well, sometimes the answer is why not? I want to feel like people know who I am, and that they can accept me in spite of my flaws, my past, and my failures. I want to be known, and I want to get to know, all of you. To do that, I must first cast off the rags of shame that shroud me, and tell the truth. I am tormented by failure. I want to be a leader, but I fear that when trusted with the position I will let people down and hurt them. I often tell myself that power corrupts, but as I age I want to instead believe that power reveals. Not that it corrodes you and warps you, but instead brings out who and what you truly are. In that, I must strive to be the best I can be. My starting point, so that I may earn the love and the trust and the acceptance I so covet, I must first learn to love, trust, and accept myself, by loving, trusting, and accepting you.

And so this is what its all been about. Getting to this moment, letting my scars be visible, the proof of my shortcomings, the reveal of my sins and my sorrows, as Kratos reveals the scars left on his arms by the chains which seared into his skin when he accepted the blades of chaos and service to Ares, I want my friends, the truest family I have ever known, to see me and know me. When my dad was in therapy he would share some of the lessons he learned with me. One of the most sticking was the piece of wisdom his therapist gave him when he was told that we all "tell yourself a story" about your life. It can be a good story, a bad story, whatever the narrative, it informs your perspective and the things you see and interpret as you navigate life. If the story you tell yourself is that you are a victim, of circumstance, society, a bad upbringing, or whatever else it is that has done you harm, you will live as a victim of those things. If you tell yourself that everyone is out to get you, to betray you, to twist you into their own machinations and manipulations, you will begin to perceive your friends as opportunists and groomers or worse. If you tell yourself that because you have a disability, you'll never be able to get out of bed and live your life, then you won't ever try to live with that disability. You'll just lay in bed and rot. That is mostly where manifestation comes from. If you tell yourself you'll meet your true love at the shopping mall on Thursday, well, you're certainly going to go looking, aren't you? And that's where the limits begin, you can control your perception of events, people, and all things inbetween through the way you frame them, but you can't actually control them. When someone hurts your feelings, you can decide to linger on the pain, or work to move past it, but you can't stop that person from hurting you altogether. For a long time, the story I have told myself of my life is that I am my fathers' son, and that I am doomed to fail and fall into cycle after cycle as my fathers fathers before me. That despite my reformations, I am a dormant volcano waiting to erupt in awful fire one day, that I cannot be trusted to lead or to help because I am more likely to cause further harm than healing. Maybe all of these things are true, made true by precedent and environment and trauma and colorful re-interpretations of my own life story. But if life is what we make it, let us make good.

I will continue to strive towards a better self. Because if even the monstrous Ghost of Sparta can find redemption, so too can we, if we choose to be better.

Break the hard chains of fate, roads we walk we create, for our future are wide and vast, I can choose to be better, at last.

Afterword, Epilogue, Circling Back to Square One...

How fitting that as I wrap up this journal entry, Santa Monica Studios releases a FREE DLC to the newest game, God of War Ragnarok, "Valhalla" a series of challenge maps where Kratos re-lives some of his greatest battles as the Valhalla of the GOW world is a never-ending series of battles pulled from your own lived experiences, even the past you wanted to bury. Kratos eventually finds himself back in Greece, battling minotaurs and sirens, just like old times, even re-living past events, which are now vivid traumas as Kratos is made to confront his own worst decisions. Such as times he killed needlessly, selfishly, to forward his own goals, now forced to face the consequences of them and try to find new solutions. He even finds himself with a familiar and loathsome companion, Helios, the God of the Sun, whose head is strapped to his belt and constantly pesters and berates him for the evil he made Greece suffer upon the slaying of their sun god, plunging them into eternal darkness. This all culminates in a final, climactic, one-sided confrontation wherein Kratos stares down his past self, sitting on the throne of the God of War, and makes peace. Recognizing his growth, accepting his past and understanding it, and choosing to have hope for his future. Ultimately retiring to that dreadful throne, now with a newfound calm, as he realizes it can be a throne which gives people hope. Kratos chooses to be better. And so have I.

This year did not go entirely as I wanted. I'd say it went about halfway. My goals were somewhat met. I DID workout, pretty regularly until about September. I fell off hard, stopped getting regular sleep and eating well, and just kind of, coasted. I had gained, enough muscle that I COULD dress as Kratos without doing myself a disservice, but I still have a long way to go. I DID shave my head, as you all saw, and it has been well received. I don't like it very much, but what else was there to expect? I liked having long hair. I like the way it felt in the wind, now the wind just feels cold. I liked brushing it when I was bored, I liked the feeling of washing it when it was too greasy. I liked the way it looked in pictures when it was extra poofy and wild. I liked how untamed it could get and how that made me feel. I felt like myself. And now, I have the memories.

These were taken the night before, at my best friend Liz's bachelor party. The next day was the Halloween Party and then the day after that was his wedding. A packed weekend. It feels somewhat like looking at a ghost when I see these pictures(how fitting that someone aspiring to become the Ghost of Sparta sees themselves as a ghost?), receiving them so soon after I had shaved sent a deep series of butterflies into my system, I knew then what I still know now, I'm going to miss my hair. But it won't come back. I made this decision, I'm gonna live with it. Other people like it. No one has said, "I miss the way you used to look". Oh well. I can't go back even if I wanted to, it was already thinning and falling out on its own, in the process of re-growth it would only continue doing that. Maybe when I'm in my 40s and its socially acceptable again to have a partially bald head it can come back. Time will tell. I reject paying a subscription fee to some drug company to get a full head of hair, and I will never be vain enough to buy implants. Cosmetic surgery as a whole is kinda lame to me. I'm more interested in finding a way to embrace what nature has made me. I sold myself on the idea not because my friends told me I was ugly with my hair, but because I wanted to dress up as Kratos, and now that I've done it, the options for cosplay are wide open. I think of how the Epic Rap Battles of History guys keep their heads shaved because they always wear wigs and prosthetics and whatnot to become the different characters they portray in their videos, and I think I can chart my own path down that trail. After all, I've always enjoyed being Darth Maul...

In middle school and freshman year of high school he WAS my go-to Halloween costume for like 3-4 years in a row. I got so good at drawing his face-tattoos that I didn't need a reference photo(or figure) by the last few times. Instead of wearing a bald cap I would just put the hood up to cover my hair and only use those first three horns. Now that I have a shaven head, the possibilities are wide open. I can do a Darth Maul cosplay with a full head of horns. I'd just have to ditch the beard, for a little bit. It grows back fast enough I wouldn't miss it for long. I think that is what I will do. Darth Maul @ Star Bandits Halloween Party 2024.

In other news, I didn't quite get the finances together, in fact I only created more problems for myself, but I am figuring them out and keeping my head above the water. I've created an accountability system with my grandmas to create some long-term savings, and its being taken care of. I've gotten used to working a bunch to pay for this expensive life, and I have no intention of scaling back, just working harder. The pajama pants are off, the purple pants are in.

I've finished 4 stop-motions that are in various stages of editing. My 2024 game-plan is to post one video a month. Abandoning my previous "post it when its done" strategy. I'm developing a release schedule and a content cycle that will hopefully actually stimulate growth for blandclanvideos. I want to find a way to make money on this passion of mine, and I think I can get monetization in 2024 if I just don't let up. We will see! I've never felt more optimistic though. I finally passed 500 subscribers after ten years. The sky truly is the limit if I develop the discipline for consistency!

In other, bigger news I was able to put an original work to stage after the inaugural STARGAZE Theater Festival, brought to you by THE STAR BANDITS in association with STAR BANDIT FOUNDATION. I am a councilman and board member to this silly little found family and nonprofit of mine. My life enjoyed a full circle moment as after many long years since the 8th grade, where my short play I directed for the end of year showcase never made it to stage, a new debut show, "Robin Hood vs Dracula" written, directed by, and starring me got put to stage in its place, and it was loved. My crowd pleasing show was well received, and my confidence as a writer/director/actor have never been more affirmed. I finally feel ready to make Downturn. Just have to get my money up to pay for it... The future does truly look bright. I'm excited for what this new year brings. Not finding myself filled with an inner turbulence and dread, I don't know how much I will write in this new year. Instead, I feel much like the guy this has all been about, Kratos himself. I, kind of just want to sit here awhile...

Until next time, when my restless spirit needs to find solace in the clickity clack of fast moving fingers across a keyboard. I am Robbie Bland, and I am choosing To Be Better.

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casspurrjoybell-21 · 9 months

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Pirate Chains - Volume 1 - Strong Tides

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter 10 - Breaking Ice with Fire - Part 1

Agenor

I was relieved to see him eating.

"Looks like you're feeling better now, Nyx," I said.

"Yes, thanks to Ace," he replied.

"Aye, his drinks are always effective. Distasteful but they work," I added.

I noticed that he seemed to want to say something, so I pretended not to notice and waited for him to gather the courage to speak.

"The fork... Aren't you afraid I might try to stab you with it?" he finally asked.

His question was amusing and I calmly replied...

"Do you intend to?"

"No?" he responded hastily.

"Good," I said, before he added hesitantly...

"Probably," and I scoffed.

"Well, if anything, you are honest."

We ate in silence for a few minutes. I made sure not to look at him and let him focus on his food. My plate was larger than his, as befitting a captain's portion. However, I finished before he did. I pushed my plate aside, wiped my hands with a towel and placed it between us for him to use. I then pulled out a cigarette, lit it and started smoking. I gazed at the smoke as I exhaled but couldn't help sneaking glances at him.

His slender legs were folded to the side, looking funny in my pants, which were clearly too big for him. My gaze drifted down to his bare feet and his beautiful toes. The soles seemed so soft and inviting for a tickle... I shook my head and took a long drag from my cigarette, trying to stop my thoughts from wandering too far. He finished his meal, wiping his hands and mouth before pushing his plate next to mine, fork still in it. I couldn't help but take note of it.

"Thank you for the meal," he said, his voice low and hesitant.

The noble air about him was something I had missed. He exuded a gallant atmosphere that captivated me. I responded with a calm, mature tone...

"Don't mention it."

Despite my composed demeanor, my mind was firing off victory canons.

"You know, Nyx, if you need anything, you can ask me," I offered.

"I'm in the best situation I could possibly be in. I require nothing," he replied with a heavy dose of sarcasm, to which I did my best to ignore.

"Are you saying you don't require anything at all? That's quite ungentlemanly of you," I said.

He let out a sigh and remained silent for a moment before asking...

"May I speak with Terry?"

"No," I replied.

"Then, what are your plans for me?" he inquired.

"Nothing. This is quite satisfactory. You are exactly how and where I want you to be," I replied coolly.

"Bound, partially undressed, barefoot, on the floor? Which aspect of this satisfies you?" he asked with exasperation.

I took offense to his attitude towards me. I began to suspect that his tendency to provoke me was a natural inclination of his. I responded in a composed manner...

"All of it."

He remained quiet for a moment, likely displeased with my answer.

"Then, may I request to stay on the Regina tomorrow?"

"What? No, Nyx. You will remain where you are. Until I make a decision, everything is as it should be and will remain that way."

"But Regina may not be safe, a storm is approaching and she'll be at risk. Someone needs to guide her through it or she may..."

"What storm are you talking about? Where did you hear about this?"

"It's not unusual. This area is prone to storms during this season."

"What the hell? This area?" I exclaimed in confusion, my tone firm and demanding as I sat opposite Nyx.

"Nyx, do you know where we are now?"

Nyx hesitated, his lips parted as if he wanted to speak but no words came out. Avoiding my intense gaze, he shifted, putting more distance between us. My patience was thinning. I pulled his chain, forcing him to look at me. He looked startled and uneasy but my intimidation seemed to have silenced him.

"Just answer my question," I demanded.

"Do you know where we are right now?"

"I'm not sure," Nyx stammered.

"Take a guess," I pressed.

"We're probably sailing to Mila, the southern island," Nyx ventured hesitantly.

I was stunned. How could he possibly know that? Who had he spoken to? This was far too specific. I pulled on Nyx's chain with renewed force, my anger boiling over.

"Who did you speak to? How the hell would you know that, Nyx?" I shouted in his face.

His body visibly trembled and his shoulders stiffened.

"No one, I swear. No one told me," he stammered, his voice barely audible.

"Then how could you have known that?" I exclaimed, disbelief etched on my face.

"I know some routes," Nyx stammered.

"It's part of my job, remember?"

"With no compass? Without even leaving these damn walls. Are you kidding me?" I retorted, my skepticism obvious.

"I'm not lying," Nyx insisted.

"I saw the stars yesterday when I tried to... you know, escape."

"Stars?" I repeated, surprised.

"I used to study to become a navigator but... I couldn't finish..." Nyx said, his voice trailing off and my anger dissipated instantly, replaced by intrigue.

"You're a navigator?" I asked, my tone more curious than accusatory.

"Not quite," Nyx replied.

"But you figured out our direction in mere seconds," I pointed out.

"I got lucky. It was almost a full moon and the skies were clear," Nyx explained.

"Still..." I mused, impressed.

I've seen excellent navigators in the past but to be able to know our destination in a few seconds at his age and without even a map or a compass. It's quite impressive. As I kept gazing into his nervous face, I couldn't help but wonder if his beautiful blue eyes were telling the truth.

"Agenor," he said, wincing slightly.

"You're hurting me."

I noticed that he was holding onto his collar, which was tightly pulling on his neck. I quickly dropped the chain and he sat back, rubbing the red marks on his neck caused by the collar.

"Sorry," I apologized and he gave me a blaming look and said...

"I didn't lie, you know."

My heart tightened at the sight of him pouting. This was the most adorable expression I had ever seen. I couldn't help but laugh.

"I believe you," I said, trying to regain my composure.

"What about the storm? Did you predict that from the stars as well?"

"It's not wrong to read the stars," he replied.

"It's not like I'm pretending to be a diviner."

"I know," I said, trying to keep the conversation light.

"Just tell me, do you think we'll be facing a storm tomorrow?"

"I'm not certain," he replied.

"Take a guess," I pressed.

"The winds are getting stronger, colder and the air is moist," he said after a moment's hesitation.

"Probably a small storm by the end of the day tomorrow."

I was in awe. I had been given a precious treasure and I was determined to protect it.

"So?" he asked, looking expectant.

"What?" I asked, a little confused.

"Can I stay in Regina tomorrow?" he repeated.

"Can you navigate it?" I asked, skeptical.

"Well... no," he admitted.

"But I can try."

"You think you can navigate a ship just by playing with the wheel?" I exclaimed, incredulous.

"And you claimed I was an idiot."

He lowered his eyes for a few seconds, feeling guilty about calling me an idiot earlier.

"I'll manage," he said firmly.

"I can't leave my Regina alone."

"Nyx," I said, trying to be patient.

"If there's a storm, I can take care of both ships. I have enough people in my crew to keep everyone and both ships safe. Besides, referring to it as 'your' ship is no longer accurate, don't you think?"

He didn't answer, looking hurt. It seems like he just can't let go of his past and ignore my advice.

"You said I can ask things from you," he said, getting frustrated.

"I didn't say I would grant them," I replied calmly.

"That's not fair," he exclaimed.

I laughed and whispered in his ear...

"Let me make it up to you."

I slid my fingers behind his back, causing his body to tremble. He quickly slapped my hand away.

"Stop assuming you can touch me," he warned.

He tried to push me away and escape but I grabbed him and pulled him towards me. I held him close, trapping him in my embrace.

"What the hell are you doing?" he exclaimed, struggling to break free.

"We won't do anything ever again."

"Again?" I asked, a hint of amusement in my voice.

"When you were probably thinking about yesterday's kisses?"

He looked at me in disbelief but the red tint of embarrassment on his cheeks betrayed his thoughts.

"Oh, you were," I said, grinning.

"I was not," he protested.

"You're being ridiculous and rude, just let go."

I softened my voice and gently nuzzled his ear with my lips.

"I can't help it," I whispered.

"I keep thinking about your sweet lips and your beautiful neck, especially when wearing my collar."

His body shuddered with each tickle of my lips against his ear.

"God damn it, Agenor. I'm a man, for God's sake," he protested.

"So?" I asked, still not letting him go.

"Just go find a woman for your needs and leave me alone," he said, his voice filled with frustration.

I was shocked by his accusations.

"You think I'm doing this just because I have needs?" I asked, incredulous.

"Why else would you flirt with a man in such a licentious manner?" he retorted.

I sighed heavily.

"God, Nyx. You just can't seem to control that sharp tongue of yours."

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managerialtips · 2 years

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Just in case folks missed it, we have our own little discord server where we hang out and workshop hcs here!

https://discord.gg/ZVrF926S2U

We ALSO have a semi-affilate rp server! It's a completely original branch facility of Lobotomy Corp, themed around supernatural beings!

https://discord.gg/6a3adjzbzg

#not a hc #mod frei #were p low on asks so we may be quiet #thought id post where you can find us and hang!

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eykismyfav · 2 years

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More Alike than I Thought

Requested: No this is for me I love Lenny so much!

Summary: Lenny is shocked to discover he has more in common with one of Midge’s friends then first meets the eye.

Genre: Fluff just pure wholesome fluff

Warnings: Swearing, Lenny being Lenny, drug use (Marijuana), and I think that is it.

Pairing: Lenny Bruce x Fem!reader

Characters: Lenny, Midge

Authors note: I just want the man to be happy just for once. Not my Best but I think it’s cute.

Word Count: 1000

Request Open

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel Masterlist

Prompt List

Most people would look at you and classify you as a nice girl or a good girl who was respectful and quiet. Hell that’s what Midge thought when she first met you when you were in college together and this is certainly what Lenny thought when you were introduced to each other by Midge. You had the same privileged look about you that Midge did so you really could not blame him or anyone else for that assumption. With all that being said Lenny’s shocked reaction when you are put in the cell next him, after he was arrested at one of his shows, felt pretty justified.

“Crazy seeing you here, stranger long time no see.” You mumble quietly nudging him.

“What did you do?” He asks with a raised eyebrow tilting his head while taking a drag from his cigarette.

“I may have verbally harassed a police officer while I was little less than sober and perhaps a little bit high.” You smile lightly up at him shrugging as you rest your head on the bars separating you. “May I?” You gesture to his cigarette. He nods, handing it to you watching as you blow a puff of smoke in front of you.

“Really? A good girl like you smoking pot.” He smirks.

“Oh my sweet sweet Lenny there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” You pause turning to face him blowing some smoke into the cell before handing him back his cigarette. “I think you’ll find I am full of surprises.” You continue as you lay down on the bench with your knees bent.

“Is that so?”

“Yup!” You say stressing the p.

The two of you sat in silence for a while until Lenny’s name was called saying his bail was posted. Within a few minutes your name was also called. As you walk down the stairs you see a very disappointed Midge and a smirking Lenny looking up at you.

“Seriously, you too?” She says placing her hands on her hips.

“Sorry.” You say looking at Lenny before giggling.

“Well I have a gig. I just happened to be passing by and heard them talking about Lenny so I came to bail him out low and behold you were here too.” She sighs as the three of you exit the precinct. “I have to go, can you please make sure she makes it home, Lenny.”

“Of course Midge I got her, don't worry about it.” Lenny said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You roll your eyes and shrug off his arm.

“Good,” she nods at Lenny before looking at you, “We are going to have a talk about this tomorrow okay?”

“Yes Ma’am.” You salut and she leaves walking towards the Gaslight. Once you were sure she was out of ear shot you turn to Lenny with a smirk playing on your lips. “Follow me good sir.” You wink, taking his hand pulling him in the opposite direction Midge was headed.

“Hey little lady, where are you taking me?”

“My place!” You exclaim.

“Huh...” He gives you a suspicious look and you pull two joints from your pocket. “Oh okay then lead the way my lady.” You giggle and continue pulling him after you.

“Wait...You...You were kicked out of the military for dressing like...Like a woman” You finally get out between joyful full belly laughs. Lenny nods, taking a long drag from the joint the two of you had been passing back and forth. The two of you sitting on your couch in your apartment Lenny’s arm slung over the back of the couch behind your back

“God I love when you laugh like that.” He mumbles, chuckling to himself handing you the joint again but you miss what he said, still laughing.

“That’s so fucked. The government is so fucked. The world is so fucked.” You say pausing occasionally to take a hit from the joint. You move, getting more comfortable laying down and resting your head on Lenny’s lap.

“I know, believe me I know.” He mumbled looking down at you running a hand through your hair taking the dead joint from your hand.

“And being a woman fucking sucks too like it such bullshit we have to put up with especially single woman. Men are disgusting, they think they can do whatever they please to women with no consequences and their right they never get in trouble because no one listens to women.” You rant and Lenny listens.

“I’m listening.” He tells you cradling your cheek lightly.

“I know...You're the exception Lenny, you always listen to what I have to say.” You say look into his eyes before reaching out and playing with the hair on the back of his neck. Your eyes flicker down to his lips and back before making a choice. You use your hand to both pull yourself up and Lenny down and press your lips against his. Lenny recipricats the kiss immediately pulling you up so that you are sitting on his lap. You pull away “Thank you for always listening.”

“Any time sweetheart.” He says kissing your nose. “I should head home as much as I would love to continue this which I really would. We both need to sober up before this continues.” He whispers kissing your nose again. You nod slightly before dropping your head to his shoulder nuzzling into his neck.

“Can you please stay? I don't really want to be alone and you are also very very warm.” He chuckles and nods at the request, moving to lay down with you on top of him, both of you being too lazy to move to your bedroom.

“Good night.”

“Good night Lenny.”

The next morning that is how Midge found the two of you cuddled up on your couch. Maybe the discussion could wait till another day. She couldn’t help but smile to herself. Maybe the two of you were more alike than anyone thought.

Taglist: @widowswrld

#lenny bruce #lenny bruce x female reader #lenny bruce x reader #the marvelous mrs. maisel #The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel one shots

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beann-e · 3 years

Text

Haikyu characters reacting to their s/o screaming back at them

Nekoma Characters reacting to their s/o Screaming back at them

Read Part One Here

kenma

-it would not take much -_-

- Kenma doesn’t even notice he’s yelling at you or much less using his raised voice when talking to you

-he’s so used to screaming at kuroo through his mic that when he’s finally pissed off and bubbling ; it just happens after you try to ask him what he wants for dinner at the wrong time

-post time skip

“ go left “ The sound of the controller clicking swirled through the room as your boyfriends eyes followed the screen at every turn his character took “ kuroo I said go left “

“ uh which one ? “

kenmas face went into a straight line as kuroos body stiffened knowing he hadn’t been listening in the first place “ no wait which way I meant —which way “

“kuroo I said go left “

“ oh “

“ yeah — go left “ the strain in your boyfriends voice was evident

it showing off the sliver of annoyance he was trying to hold back knowing that you were somewhere in the same house

he hated for you to see him anything other than calm

Anytime he showed any bit of annoyance with you or even showed he was about to give you attitude you quickly shut it down. It was obvious to him who was the dominant one in the relationship and he had no problem with it

Honestly he was scared of what you would think when you finally saw him fly off the handle. Of course you’d seen him have an attitude he was a gamer that was normalized to have one after a lost game but, it wasn’t often he showed you that side because kenma doesn’t do losing

so what would happen if he finally got ticked off so badly due to something that was ‘just a game’ to you would you be scared?

he couldn’t help but think that you would run for the hills and then screw him over in the breakup and tell everyone he still wears tidy whities and forgets to go pee during gameplays unless you remind him by asking had he peed all day

“ hey du— “

“ don’t talk until you kill the leftover guys so we can win“

“ ken you don’t think I can multitask “ kuroos laugh fell into the room over kenmas headphones “ I used to do it everyday i was the captain of the vb team, I keep you in line “

“ sure sure — but are you watching your corners “

“ I keep everyone healthy , and i’m hot , plus I’m about to win this gam— I died “

the silence in the moment spoke volumes before kenma could

his hand grabbing the controller harshly as he refused to blink seeing the word loser flash in bright letters on his screen

Body growing hot and sweaty while he tried to hold in his anger and process what just happened so he could determine the next best course of action

Knowing , He just knew

The amount of trouble he’d get in if you walked in to hear him screaming at kuroo shouting words you hated when he used

He was trying to hold it all in

really he was

he just needed some quiet first just some silence to figure out how to calm himself down his brain going over serveral images of kuroo dead at the bottom of stairs maybe even him getting hit too hard with one of kenmas sets when they played 4 on 4matches

Anger only growing when he heard a voice pour in that he couldn’t figure out who it belonged to much less cared

“ hey ke— “

“ Do you ever fucking listen “ his voice was hard and threatening “ do you ever just shut the fuck up and “

he threw his headphones to his keyboard “ and listen — no you don’t— you go quiet and now here i am upset because you simply don’t listen — answer the questions i’m asking you— you fucking sea creature“

his body only growing hotter as his neck got red eyes darting for a person to scream at and take his anger out on

“ answer me “ he screamed pain eteched in his voice as he finally turned to find you

a look crossing over his face before he blinked looking to the floor then up at you in confusion before turning back to his screen that glowed in the dark room anger hitting him all over again when he saw kuroos wide open mouth and their dead avatars laying on the ground

“ Why the fuck — how the —- I always fucking lose when that asshole —that miscalculated creation— whenever he plays with me it’s so serious to me — i make money off of it i make — i get deals and i — I can’t — can’t lose them they’ll think i’m not good enough— i“

he slammed his fist into the wall speaking low

“ I hate fucking losing “

he turned to you “ it’s not nice y/n — I tried to fucking do your shitty routine of calming myself down first but it just “

he moved closer to you with anger pouring from his body

your eyes wide in a look of fear when he grabbed your face pointing to his screen “ look — “

he screamed in your face when you didn’t tear your eyes away from his “ BABE I SAID LOOK“

your eyes never leaving his as he just grew angrier at your incompetence

“ so your not fucking listening to me either “ his voice grew questioning “ are your ears dirty just like kuroos ? huh ? are y’all apart of some shitty cult for mute wannabes “

his hand gripped tighter on your cheeks “ i’m so stupid your just as fucking dumb as that asshole — fucking — I bet you wanna date him huh — “

his mind ran wild as he thought of the two of you together insecurity blooming

“ you want a loser like him over me right ? you have to like kuroo — look at him you want to date kuroo right “

he laughed “ fucking slu— “

“ finish it and we’ll be playing our own game of kenma getting his ass beat until he finally gives up and cries “

your eyebrows quirked up as you held eye contact with him “ trust me you’ll lose “

you looked at the male in front of you in disgust

“ get your shitty cheeto dusted gamer hands off of me “

his hands loosened their hold on you

“ all the way off you dirty imbecile “

you scoffed as he dropped his hand in a rush of fear

“ I bet your dirty ass didn’t even wash them after I made you pee earlier — yeah made — you wanted to get back to that sweaty chair that badly ? “

his cheeks grew hot as he blinked himself out of his trance only to see what he’d gotten himself into

“ who do you think you are talking to like that “

your stare making him shake even more in fear

You always scared him when you were upset wether you were taller or not your annoyance alone at an action he’d done scared him enough

Your words stood tall and poured in on him making him feel like he was suffocating but, he knew he needed to hear this. You only did this when his anger was out of control like he knew it could be. He stayed on his games all day and all night which was the only way to provide your shared income

at least until he could get his company up and running he had yet to sign contracts because he said he needed to read them first and reading took too much work

this was how he paid your bills. It stressed him out knowing that any day someone on the internet could call him a loser and that same day your steady flow of money may trickle in slower than usual

So when he lost a game any game even something as simple as Mario or even kirby it pissed him off because he couldn’t help but shoulder all the responsibility of taking care of you and himself. He didn’t want to be the reason you lost that stability and all of this catered into his rage. A rage only you could catch and calm down with your sheer words.

“ who do you think you are “ your voice came out low and calm as you spoke down on him “ answer me “

“n-no on — no one babe “

“ don’t babe me “ your hand pressed on his chest “ you don’t deserve that not after you talked to me that way “

“ I -i’m sorry “

“ for what “

“ f-for talking to you like that and “ his voice came out soft as he spoke

“ I cannot hear you “

“ fuck i’m sorry for talking to you that way —and for using force —force and grabbing you like that “

“and i’m just expected to forgive you? you know I hate this — you know this and yet you keep doing it? why ? why do you keep shouldering this and then lashing out “

“ p-please “

“ mm — i’m not seeing it ken— I mean you treat me like one of your other asshole friends and then on top of it you grabbed my face this time— you’ve never gone that far “

“ y-yes I know — I know “

“ so you can see my problem with just accepting your apology right “

“ y-yes ma’am “

“ oh — “ you laughed as you spoke “ now we’re using nice names huh “

“ i—I thought it’d work“ he pouted

“ I wanna forgive you ken “ you looked at him as his head dropped in embarrassment cheeks going red

“ I really do babe but “

“ I swear I won’t do it again y/n “

you thought for a moment staring at the boy in front of you who was pissing his pants in fear

“ y-y/n I swear I didn’t know it was you I was angry and I —I thought kuroo was talkin— “

“ but you realized it was me? “

he paused

“ you even looked from me and back to your screen so you knew correct “

“ yes “

“ and yet you still yelled at me and grabbed my face “

“ really i’m sorry— I wasn’t there all the way “

you took a deep breath before looking to his computer eyes made up in a squint and then trailing back to the boy in front of you

“ ok ken “ his eyes glowed in happiness

“ you— your forgiving me “ he laughed almost mocking you knowing he’d never been let go this quickly you usually took away his gaming system until he’d learned to calm down

he even started ‘doing’ yoga, if you count playing the youtube videos on the tv while he played on his apple watch that you’d forgotten to take, just to fool you into giving his game back “ this easily“

your eyes moved pointedly to his as he fell back into submission

“ i’m sorry I just meant you arent more upset “

“ well i’m deciding that since it was the first time you ever went to that extent of yelling at me I’m gonna let you off the hook “

you smiled “ also I thought you already got enough punishment “

“ h-huh “

you let your head move up to face his computer screen in a slight nod his eyes lighting up before his face fell in sadness

He never meant to fall submissive let alone show who was the dominant one in the relationship to anyone outside of you especially not with kuroo on the other line

“ I don’t think kuroo minds much babe it’s ok “ you said happily changing the whole way you carried yourself earlier and the way you spoke your body easing after beating into kenma

“ no trust me he doe— “

“ goddamn “

your eyes fell onto his friends open mouthed smile

“ and you just let ‘em do you like that “

kenmas eyebrows came together in sadness

“ damn ken —“

your eyes went hard on kuroo

“ and do you think your any better ? because from what i’ve heard churro it seems to me like you couldnt even keep your own team on a leash much less that lev kid so ? “

“ god “ kuroo coughed shifting in his seat whispering softly to himself “ so hot “

he shook his head before speaking again a little bit louder “ uh no— no I completely understand y/n —god i just know your fun “ he laughed

“ kenma keep listening to your s/o don’t mind me “

he moved to log off speaking under his breath “ so fucking scary —swear i’m bringing ‘em in to scare my vb kiddos— shit “

you shook your head in confusion “ uh wha—”

“ he had a — he had a crush on you and yeah I”

“ oh well “ you moved to throw your arms around him in happiness his body stumbling back at the action as he cautiously wrapped his hands around your back

“ n-not in trouble “

“ not in trouble “

“ still love me “

“ still love you “

“ then can I pla- “

“ no “

“ nevermind I didn’t want —want to play anyways “

“ that’s good “

“ yeah “ he drawed out as you grabbed his hand pulling him to the living room “ but babe the monitors still on just one matc— “

your grip tightned on his hand “ movie ken “

“ got it movie — movie “

he spoke low following you wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your cheek “ movie first — game later “

lev

-I don’t think he would ever ever ever scream at you but he would totally say something hurtful and not even realize it because kuroo and kenma said it to him

-so he’s literally just using what he was taught but In the wrong way

- not a time skip

“ lev can you help me “ you shouted to the taller male as you made your way across the court his hands cupping around his mouth as he stared down on you from the other side “ yeah “ he smiled “ totally “

you copied him a smile itching to spread across your face “ just because I yell doesnt mean you yell “

“ well as bossy as you are you should know I’m going to “

your face dropped before it fell back into a happy smile mind racing with thoughts of maybe hes just making a joke he knows you hate when people say that about you

“ hey uh lev ? “

“ yeah babe “ he said running over to you

“ let’s not say that ok cause it kinda — it really hurt my feelings “ his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down on you his voice vibrating along the gym before he smiled again “ babe I like the design you added to your face I didn’t notice but other people said you looked good with it and yeah —honestly they were right “

“ huh — design? “

“ yeah it’s red it’s right by your eyebrow “

your hands moved quickly to cover the pimple from his view eyes darting across the gym hoping no one else heard and was trying to take a look at it

“ it’s fine it’s fine maybe if you put on some makeup you can hide it right ? i mean if you don’t like the design like I do i mean that’s what you usually use it for right ? “

your eyebrows went up face holding nothing but sadness as you spoke “ do you— lev baby do you really think i’m bossy “

he jumped up and down on the balls of his feet in excitement as he kept going “ yeah — I do everything you tell me to and I like it i’m like a puppy and your the master “

you could feel your body heat up at his words his smile spreading wider as he turned to his awestruck teammates

“ babe it’s ok id follow you to the end of the earth because I don’t understand your just stringing me along”

your hands dropped the balls you held onto from picking them up off the floor. head cocking to the side as you studied him trying to see what sparked this new way of thinking

“ oh god “

“ he’s so fucking —so so fucking clueles- “

“ stupid just outright stupid is what he is “ you said as his eyebrows creased face struggling to find the right way to react to the burning hot anger he felt radiating off of you in waves “ lev baby who told you this “

you walked a bit closer to him head leaned back to see him clearly “ who made you think this way “

“ uh what “ he shook his head face coming up in a pout “ babe I — “ he played with his fingers as he looked off to the side hand moving to run across his neck “ for some reason I feel like i’m in trouble —I did—did I do something wrong baby ?“

“ this is not cool lev not helpful, not sweet and nice it’s hurtful “

“ no what ? wait i’m “ he took his hand out to grab your arm his face made up in pure confusion “ no i’m —i’m complimenting you “

“ you— your complimenting me? “

“ yeah “ he smiled struggling to hold it up as his eyes darted across your face

“ lev baby “ you faked a smile as your eyes hardened “ think about your words —what have you just said “

“ well I said that your my master and i’m like a puppy“ he smiled as he thought back “ only because I love you and would do anything you tell me and because i’m hyper and sometimes you have to explain stuff to me in simple form because I can’t pay attention when anyone else talks but you “

he kept going “ then I said that I do anything you tell me to and I would “ he smiled harder voice sure of himself“ because I like following you and making you happy “

he scratched his neck face flashing a deep red “ then — then I said that you cover up your bossine— ok i’m sorry “

his face made up into a pout as he slumped “ really I didn’t know I thought it was nice I heard the team saying it in the back rooms and I though— “

“ FUCKING IDIOT “

“ LEV WHAT THE FUCK “

“ HOLY SHIT LEGS ARE YOU SERIOUS “

levs face dropped as he turned to kenma “ legs seriously ? “

kenma shrugging as he continued to play his hand held game “ eh well everyone else was saying something and you annoy me so — I present legs “

he sighed as he turned back only to see your eyes holding nothing but garbage fires In them as you stared at the group of guys huddled together

“ speak “ everyone whimpered as you stared them down “ explain to me why my boyfriend is telling me I need makeup to cover my pimple ”

kuroos uncomfortable laugh left him quickly as he looked away from the both of you rocking back and forth in his shows “ well um y/n “ he coughed “ you see we were — we’re guys y/n we were making jokes and you see lev doesn’t understand “

“ well I do so explain “

he jumped “ we thought— “

“ not quick enough you sweaty catboy“

“ god ok he came to us wanting to know how to compliment you he said he didn’t want to say anything dumb and —so that made us realize we can really make him do anything cause he’s so clueless—thought if we could get lev to say some dumb shit—trust me we didn’t go that far “ he said pointing to lev who was picking up the balls you’d dropped on the floor chasing after one that rolled away

“ then you’d break up with him and I guess at least one of us would have a chance — well except kenma he says he has princess peach as his wife —wait who the fu—I actually don’t know who that is ken is that an online girlfriend “

he furrowed his brows actually puzzled by his earlier words “ I don’t know why it seemed so normal to me at the time “

he shook his head “ but lev is so fucking stupid that he said everything fucking wrong — we literally just told him what we personally like about you —gave him some corny pickup lines but he said everything wrong like even the phrase about your makeup we were saying how you don’t wear any or when you do it’s not obvious because your natural beauty just radiates through it— then the next thing we talked about is how strong and just how you take directive I guess — and we — we thought it was hot “

“ then where did he get the stuff he said from “ your voice went high now you were confused he couldn’t have made that stuff up

“ y/n he’s just fucking stupid where do you think “ he rolled his eyes “ he made it up because he didn’t understand “

levs eyes widened as he had stopped paying attention to the situation taking place hours ago “ uh I cannot confirm or deny that statement but I will say you are very very beautiful my love “

your heart warmed as the team groaned your body moving into his as you kissed him softly “ did I do something wrong ? “

“ no lev your ok “

“ ok I never want you to feel bad or like y’know how kenma feels I always feel like he’s so angry “ your boyfriend shivered as he locked eyes with kenma who was ready to pounce on him claws showed as he gripped his game harshly “ see —- so angry “

“ not angry lev just “ you looked at him seriously “ babe you have to pay attention to what you say you may say something really really wrong to me one day and then — “

“ and then you’ll tell me what I did wrong while we cuddle and drink hot chocolate“

you smiled squeezing him harder “ no — then i’ll break your kneecaps so you’ll never be able to play volley again and i’ll dye your hair black in your sleep so people will think you look like a tall dirty mop “

he shook before he led you out of the door the team watching as you left leaving all of them to curse silently about their failed plan “ he’s the stupidest guy on the team and he — he got that “

“ bet he doesn’t even know what he’s doing when he’s tapping it “

kuroo laughed “ yeah right like he even gets that far — they probably gotta explain how to continue a kiss without him focusing and staring straight into their eyes — he’s probably learning how to ‘multitask’ right now as we speak—lucky idiot “

the doors to the gym slammed open roughly a few minutes later as you held levs hand tightly behind the door “ HEY ASSHOLES “

everyone tuned to you in fear for themselves and the tall male behind you who you dragged like a mom in a store his eyes stuck on the lollipop that stuck out from his mouth “ guys y/n found me a lollipop—she stuffed it in my mouth when I told her the joke you guys told me to “

“ w-what joke “

“ the one where I called the sex line and said that I requested them because I heard good reviews “

the teams heads all dropped knowing they’d never said anything of the sort or even along the line he’d messed up their original words yet again and put not only himself but them in danger

“ if you guys ever try to taint my boyfriend with your dumb fucking words again I swear I will end you all —kenma i’ll buy every copy of the new game that you want that’s coming out — literally blow all my money so you can’t ever play the stupid game until im ready to allow you to “ his mouth going up in an o as he still had his attention on his game hands only tightening a bit at the threat his body moving behind kuroo for safety

“ kuroos chemistry lab will become a garbage chute for my lunch trays “ kuroos body slumping as he draped himself over kenma only to get pushed off and fall on the floor in pain your mouth moving to tell everyone else on the team what would happen if they didn’t respect your boyfriend and treat him like the nice , caring guy he was

Until finally you flashed a smile and walked off leaving the team in disarray as they couldn’t figure out if you just grew that much hotter or if they were having heat flash from the pissed off emotions they felt when lev turned around and winked at them while he ran his hand down your shoulder to land at your lower back as he followed you out

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