#//On the bright side I've written the most I've written in...a long while.

[docholligay]

after episodes 110 and 111

Okay so four things might have been aiming for the stars, given my output this year, but if I get a little over a thousand words more it'll be 3,000, which is more than I've written in a day in....more than a year. Maybe two.

SO HERE is this one. More canon-complaint, or at least canon-friendly than usual (boo), it's about 1900 words.

You are special. There is something inside you, that makes you different. Important. 

She’d left the light on in her room, bright as day. Her mother wouldn’t bother coming in and telling her to shut it off, to go to sleep, to take her book and tell her she had school in the morning, and what was she thinking, reading this stupid thing at midnight? 

Haruka wished she would. 

The young boy on the page, a dragon at his side, sword in his hand, destiny in his blood--it was always boys who were brave, who were special, who did things, and did not need to be rescued--was the culmination of Haruka’s desires. He was upright and noble, even in his momentary sadness. It was true, what the wizard said. He was different. He was important. So important that it had been necessary for the beautiful sorceress, Aralith Starfall, to die to save him, her undying love on her lips to her last breath. 

Haruka wiped the tear, that was most certainly only from holding her eyes open too long, from her cheek. 

To be loved so deeply that someone would die for you, Haruka could not imagine, at 14. To have been born to a higher cause, every struggle and difficulty imbued with meaning. To carry a promise inside you. She closed her eyes, and wished into the starless sky. 

She should have realized that if there are no stars, you pray to the dark. 

Haruka had everything she dreamed of that night. A destiny. An importance. A woman willing to die for her. A sword, even. 

But Griffin Steelblade didn’t seem so bothered by it. His carefully-drawn face had betrayed no confusion, no uncertainty. Haruka, on the other hand, suddenly didn’t like any of it. 

It was true that they both had died, and the apartment was silent as the graveyard they both should have been in, but it wasn’t the same. They were fated warriors, chosen by God and Destiny, doing what they needed to for the princess yet to be revealed. It wasn’t a Steelblade story, and Haruka wasn’t supposed to be Griffin. They were both soldiers. It was a different story.

But Michiru lied. 

------

Michiru was, to put it mildly, unaccustomed to explaining herself, and she had no intention of starting now. 

What was done was done, and it had all worked out in the end anyhow, in a manner of speaking, and the princess was revealed, talismans obtained, so what Michiru had done or not done was immaterial at best. Pluto had said not a word to her on the subject, Usagi had been dismissed with a quick bow and a hissed, ‘at your leave, Majesty,’ and Mina had merely tossed her hands in the air while walking away. 

Michiru would do it again. 

The overwhelming burden of being chosen, of being special, was already Michiru’s at a tender age. Rich, pedigreed, almost certainly likely to marry within the circle of latter-day global debutantes, her head had felt the weight of a crown long before it had fallen to others. Not even the crown of a queen, but the crown of a princess, born only to be groomed and sacrificed as a perfect lamb in spring. 

When Sailor Neptune was draped upon her, Michiru was hardly surprised. Another requirement Michiru was born to, another kingdom or family pyre to burn herself upon. To fight a monster was not so different as to speak to some failing Duke looking for a dollar princess. Over more quickly, at the least. Michiru was quick and decisive in her work. 

She had not saved Haruka out of love. A creature like her could not feel it, the blade and the crown wrought in iron and gold. But Haruka was hers. Haruka was the only thing she had ever wanted for herself, in recent memory. Oh, perhaps a lovely dress, or a fashionable handbag, but that wanting was not like this. Desire. It curled in her mind, red and hot like the end of a cigarette. 

Michiru had been affronted that Eudial thought she could take what was rightfully Michiru’s. Everything else was merely detail. The only rules she had broken were self-imposed. 

Now the worst of it: Haruka was no longer sweet and amusing. She looked at Michiru as if the apartment were a boxing ring, and she was looking for a clear space, somewhere she could insert herself and claim victory. It was silly, of course. No one yet born could feint and jibe as Michiru could. They could circle each other until the end of time, round for round, and Haruka would never be the victor. 

Time would pass. Haruka would forget whatever silly little promise they had made to one another, and they would return to festivals and other amusements. Michiru would fight and curtsy and whatever else they wanted her to do, but this moment would pass without comment. 

Michiru did not explain herself. 

---

She lied. 

“If one of us should fall, the other will go on. It is a matter of duty. You understand duty, do you not, my gallant knight?” 

Michiru had tilted her head in the way Haruka loved, where the light would gently catch the edge of her eyelashes, the curl resting next to her cheek. 

“Yeah.” 

“So if I should be captured?” 

Haruka nodded. “I keep going. We gotta get the talismans.” 

Michiru smiled her closed-mouth smile. “Yes. Very well. Let’s begin.” 

But she lied. Haruka wasn’t stupid, she knew what Michiru said, even if she said it all flowery. Just like in the Steelblade comics, sometimes. Like Aralith used to talk. She said they both had to keep going, if one of them got caught. That was the rule. That was what they promised. 

Then Michiru came after her. Then Michiru died. 

Then they weren’t dead, which made bringing up harder. Easier, also, because you can’t bring something up when you’re dead. But harder. Michiru’d walked away from the cathedral that day saying there was no harm done, and was that cafe still open by their apartment? 

There was a dull ache behind Haruka’s breastbone, and she wasn’t sure it was from the gun. 

Michiru lied. 

The other reason it was hard to bring up was that Haruka had killed herself. Well, it was to get the talisman. So not killed herself, more like, ‘nobly sacrificed herself for the cause.’ But it didn’t sound as good as dying for someone. And Michiru died for her. But she wouldn’t say that, either. 

Did Michiru love her? She’d never said so. She let Haruka live in her apartment, but that was smart, because they were looking for the talismans together. Haruka went a lot of places with her, but it seemed Michiru was kind of lonely, so that made sense too. Sometimes, the way she touched her…but it was all silly. Michiru wasn’t going to fall in love with someone like Haruka. It was all business. 

But then she died. And she lied about it. And Haruka couldn’t stop thinking about those comics from when she was a kid. 

“Haruka, I won’t let you die.” 

It wasn’t “I love you.” It wasn’t. Besides, Michiru liked things her way. She was kind of spoiled, honestly, though Haruka thought it was a little cute. So, it could just be that Michiru didn’t like Eudial thinking she could do what she wanted. 

Every time she tried to say something, Michiru would dodge it, like they were kids fighting in the backyard, and she was too quick and too clever for Haruka. And she wasn’t Griffin. She was special, sure, but she was a side character. She did the dying. She wasn’t worth dying for. 

But Michiru did die. And she died for Haruka. She didn’t die for the talismans, even Haruka saw that. 

It had been easy to die. It was like she’d been holding her breath her whole life, waiting to die for something. To be a hero. 

There’s something inside you that makes you different. 

Maybe the hero got to live. Maybe true love conquered all. 

That was the end of it. From the moment Haruka said it to herself, she realized that whatever Michiru herself thought, and however broken and scuffed and worthless Haruka was, Haruka was in love with Michiru Kaioh. This had been true for months. Every time she looked at her, there had been a soft wash, like a watercolor painting, as if Michiru were too beautiful to be a real thing. Every time Michiru spoke, there was a light breeze, music, she could smell roses in the air. There was a perfect love, hidden by Haruka’s own fear. 

But if Michiru were brave enough to die, Haruka must be her knight gallant. Must be brave enough to live. 

If Michiru could lie for love, Haruka could tell the truth for it. 

---

Like a dark shadow in the sea, Michiru saw the moment approach. It lingered, and waited, peering up at her from beneath. Surely Haruka would say something, had been trying to say something since the whole incident. She opened her mouth, gaping like a big mouth bass, and when Michiru looked at her with whatever seemed most offputting: coyness, indifference, even laughter, she would close it. She would not speak on what she had done. 

Truly, the saving grace of the matter was that Haruka was not burdened by emotional eloquence. 

But the point was coming, whether Michiru liked it or not. Eventually, one’s opponent does attempt to land a blow. But no matter. Haruka was unaware that Michiru had more than heard of Haruka’s asinine little dalliance with martyrdom. The invocation of that, and all the waste of Michiru’s own sacrifice that it implied, would be enough to close the book on the matter for ever. Haruka would never be quick enough to catch her. Whatever had happened in the cathedral meant nothing. Might not even have happened quite as Haruka remembered it, over time and retelling. 

Michiru was the undefeated champion in this game, and Haruka would have nothing against her. She would not explain herself. She would not reveal the game. They would continue in their little play, and she would continue to have Haruka, and nothing would ever change. If she was to be Saillor Neptune, she would take this as her prize. 

It was true, that Michiru was sculpted and twisted into the thing that she was, and that Haruka could never understand that, but an inability to be a real thing did not--apparently--disclude her from wanting. And like a lovely dress, she would have Haruka, and she would take the thing she desired, and it would be hers. Haruka would stay because Michiru had everything, and would give it to her, and Michiru would never admit what she was afraid might be true. 

Haruka rose from her spot by the window and sat at the end of the couch where Michiru read. She drummed her fingers on the edge of her knee, licked her lips, and looked over Michiru, two short slow breaths coming as she let it rush out of her mouth. 

“Michiru, do you love me?” 

MIchiru sat up straight, closing the obsolete book in her hand, and tossed her back, ready to speak. 

“Because I think I love you.” 

It was the sort of think only Haruka could say to her: open and true and utterly artless. Devoid of artifice or poetry or anything but the raw bleeding edge of the moment. Her hands dropped, book in her lap, overwhelmed by that horrible leviathan of truth. The great punch, with no respect at all for rules or footwork or anything but what she felt, full on her face. 

K.O.

[kingspuppet]

Me writing Goro for RP: I think my portrayal of him is okay Me writing Goro for fics: I think my portrayal of him is mediocre at best if not terrible

[1800-fight-me]

Future

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader Rating: E (Explicit-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, explicit PiV sex as well as oral sex (M&F receiving), breeding kink, and daddy kink (oof) Word count: A little over 8.3k Synopsis: Logan goes back to the past in an attempt to save the world, but more importantly- you. (Set in X-Men Days of Future Past and switches between Logan and Reader's POV) Author’s note: Something about Logan makes me absolutely insane to the point that I wrote the longest most explicit sex scene I've ever written.... please enjoy P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

LOGAN’S POV

The future was dark and bleak. A war of uncontrollable violence, more than Logan had ever seen in his long life. 

The only bright spot in such a horrific future was you. You were the peace and rest his aching soul had long been searching for. 

It started as two people seeking solace and relief in one another, but the foundation of friendship created something so much more significant than either of you could have predicted. 

You became the planet around which he orbited. The home he never thought he’d find. The balm to his raging fire. 

Despite the hell that was life in the future, he had you. It was fitting that it caused the world falling to shit for him to finally find you. 

His self deprecating thoughts also told him that it was fitting that he lost you too. He didn’t deserve a love so pure and bright. He didn’t deserve such happiness when everyone else he cared about was either suffering or dead. 

All the blood on his hands left him marked, scarred, filthy down to his soul. But you looked past all of that, claimed you loved him anyway, claimed him. 

He was yours completely, worshiped at the altar of your affection, would go any lengths for you- do anything you ask. 

He would do anything to protect you, and it was the biggest black mark on his soul, after an extended lifetime full of mistakes, that he wasn’t able to protect you when it mattered the most. 

He shredded the sentinels, the unkillable soldiers in his rage, but one had slipped past his defenses, used your own healing powers against you and sucked the life right from you. Snuffed out your bright light all too soon. 

He killed, and killed, and killed- and it still didn’t bring you back. 

No one and nothing but him made it out of that abandoned warehouse that night. It was the tipping point for him, it made him bloodthirsty and reckless. It made him willing to go along with Charles and Eric’s ridiculous plan. 

As he laid down on the stone slab and allowed the young mutant to send him to the past, his thoughts were only on you. 

Everyone knew what his hopes were, but it went unspoken for fear it wouldn’t come true. Logan went back to the past with the desperate desire that he would wake up in a future in which you were still alive. A future he hadn’t already destroyed with the worst mistake he’d ever made. A better future. One you deserved, he would give you anything and everything you asked if he could bring you back. 

He woke in 1973 in the arms of a woman who wasn’t you, a woman he didn’t really remember. He hadn’t met you yet in 1973, unfortunately it would be a long while before he met you. And besides, he didn’t have time to search for you, he only had enough time for his mission. 

He could only hold onto the hope that he would see you again in the future, if he could change things for the better- if he could finally do something right. 

You were his motivation through dealing with younger versions of Charles and Eric, through all the missteps and mistakes, he tried his best to not lose hope. 

One last chance, after the mess that was Paris, this intervention was the only possibility of setting things right. 

They had to prevent Raven from killing Trask at this ridiculous anti-mutant presentation. Logan was inclined to agree with Raven at this point, but he knew the outcome of that decision and it was one he couldn’t live with. 

He and Hank made their way through the large crowds as Hank pushed Charles’ wheelchair, all focused only on their task at hand. Logan scanned the crowd, looking for Mystique despite the fact that Charles would be the only one able to find her. 

A voice met his ears, one that made his spine go rod straight. A voice he had unconsciously trained himself to seek out over years. 

“I really don’t want to be here,” the voice grumbled. 

Logan whipped his head to the left so quickly that if it was possible he probably would have given himself whiplash. 

It was you. 

His heart pounded harder than it had in the entirety of his two hundred something years. 

He stopped dead in his tracks and it was a force of will to not stare at you with his mouth hanging open. 

You looked different, but the same. You were younger obviously, your hairstyle and clothes were completely different, but that was you. 

His hand ached with the need to hold you, just one more time. 

“Please, I get extra credit for attending this thing and I can’t fail my government class,” the woman who he assumed was your friend whined as she clutched at your wrist. 

He did a mental tally in his head. Of course, he should’ve remembered that in the early seventies you were in a college not too far from Washington DC. It really wasn’t a huge coincidence that you would be here, but still it felt monumental. 

You looked over at her and huffed in resignation. 

God, you were cute, he thought. 

“Besides, maybe you can meet a handsome guy here. That would lift your spirits, wouldn’t it?” your friend said as she wiggled her eyebrows at you. 

You rolled your eyes and said, “This isn’t a bar, Jenna. This is anti-mutant government propaganda bullshit.” 

As did so often, he agreed with you. 

She pouted at you. “Well what if I promise to take you to a bar right after this ends?” 

You looked over at her in exasperated fondness and let her pull you forward, closer to where Logan and Hank stood in the crowd. 

Hank was saying something to him, something he didn’t hear - his attention entirely on you, and he snapped his head back to Hank as he shook his shoulder. 

“What?” Logan snapped. 

“Who are you looking at? Do you see Raven?” Hank asked. 

Logan took a deep breath and said, “No. I’m looking at my wife.” 

“Oh no,” Hank muttered. 

“Logan you can’t-“

”It’s not safe for her here,” Logan growled. 

————————————————-

YOUR POV

“Look, that guy is looking at you,” Jenna whispered in your ear. 

You followed her line of sight and saw the most handsome man you’d ever seen. 

He was exactly your type and in tight jeans to boot. He was huge- tall and extremely muscular. His dark hair was the kind of neat disheveled that begged you to run your fingers through it. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses but you could feel his intense gaze through them. 

“Holy shit he’s good looking,” you murmured and your friend giggled. 

He looked over at who you assumed was his friend and you continued to take him in. You weren’t sure you’d ever checked out a stranger in such a blatant manner before. There was something about him so inviting, despite his tense posture and intense demeanor, that your mouth was practically watering. 

“The guy next to him is cute too. Maybe we should go talk to them,” Jenna said. 

You tore your eyes from the object of your lust, and looked at the man next to him. He was cute in a nerdy way- exactly Jenna’s type. There was a third man with them, he was in a wheelchair and had his fingers to his temple as he scanned the crowd clearly in search of something or someone important. 

“I think they’re coming to us,” you said as the nerdy guy walked towards you. 

But unfortunately, the one you wanted to come closer didn’t, he stayed with his companion in the wheelchair and bent down to whisper something in his ear. 

“Hey ladies,” the man in glasses said as he approached you and Jenna. 

She immediately began to smile and twirl her hair around her finger as she spoke with him eagerly. 

He introduced himself as Hank and you shook his hand and introduced yourself as well, but your eyes continued to drift behind him to the other man, the one who you felt an inexplicable tug toward. 

“What about your friend?” you asked, your words an interruption to whatever Hank had been saying to Jenna. 

Hank looked stressed, but you looked back at the large man only a stone's throw away. 

He looked up and made eye contact with you, he must have taken his sunglasses off while you weren’t paying attention. Never before had you felt so stripped bare by just meeting a man’s eyes, there was a whirlwind of emotions within them- something akin to familiarity, possibly even love, and hunger. 

It took several moments of drowning in his gaze before you regained your wits about you. You smirked at him. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, which made him appear even larger as his muscles flexed. He raised a brow at you, but his lips were upturned in a small smile as if he was smiling despite himself. 

You crooked a finger at him, an invitation to come closer. 

He smiled and shook his head slightly, almost as if he were reprimanding himself but also couldn’t help himself. He turned his head and said something to his friend in the wheelchair before he strutted over to you. 

Every long stride he took towards you led to a tightening in your chest. It wasn’t fear, no, it was yearning. There was something inside you that wanted- no, needed, to know him. 

Your instincts were all wrong, he looked like a predator closing in on his prey, something about him sharp and animalistic as he approached you, and yet you felt at ease, intrigued, safe. 

“Hi,” you breathed out as he reached you. He smirked and stood a bit closer than would be normal for a stranger, but you didn’t mind at all as you looked up at his towering figure. 

He introduced himself in a low gravelly voice that sent a shiver down your spine and hearing his name was like an answer to a question you didn’t even know you’d been asking. 

Logan. 

You told him your name and he had this secret smile as if he already knew what you were going to say. 

He repeated your name, and something in you changed forever at the sound of it on his lips. 

“How come you didn’t wanna come say hi?” You asked teasingly. 

He looked at you and you felt more at home than ever before, which you knew sounded insane, but you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel. 

“Oh I wanted to,” he said and warmth filled you as you smiled at him. 

“Logan,” Hank hissed as he elbowed him. 

You’d honestly forgotten that you and Logan weren’t the only two people in the world at that moment. You’d forgotten about Jenna, and Hank, and the teeming crowd of people around you. 

“I know,” Logan replied to Hank in a grumpy tone that made you huff a small laugh. 

“Listen, I know this is going to sound crazy, but you need to leave. This isn’t safe,” Logan said fervently as he placed a large hand gently on your upper arm. 

You scrunched your brows at him in confusion. 

“Is this some kind of ploy to get me to leave with you?” You joked. 

He chuckled, the sound from deep in his chest, and you grinned. 

“If only,” he said. “No, pretty girl, I have to stay here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” you said. 

His thumb rubbed up and down your arm in a way that was both comforting and familiar. 

He glanced over at your friend, and as he saw that she was deep in conversation with Hank, he leaned closer to you in order to whisper in your ear. 

“This isn’t a safe place for mutants,” he murmured, urgency in his voice. 

You pulled back enough to look into his eyes, shock evident in your expression. 

“How do you know-“ you gasped quietly. 

He shook his head, “I’m one too, I can explain everything later, but please- for your own safety sweetheart, please leave.” 

You met his gaze and something about the urgency and care you found in his eyes made you believe him. 

“I suppose I’ll take your word for it. There’s a bar across town called McClarin’s, will you meet me there tonight? You can buy me a drink and explain all this weirdness.” You said. 

There was a flash of something akin to sadness in his eyes, but he gave you a tight smile and said, “Of course, I’ll be there. I’d do anything you ask.” 

You believed him. 

So you turned your head to your friend and said, “Jenna, we’re leaving.” 

You ignored her protests and stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek. 

His hazel eyes fluttered closed, as if he were savoring the feeling of your lips against his skin. 

“Until tonight,” you said as you slipped your hand in Jenna’s. He nodded in agreement and you turned and walked away from him. 

“Why are we leaving?” Jenna complained. 

“They’re going to meet us at the bar later, we can watch the broadcast on the TV,” you said. 

She huffed but agreed as you led her out of the crowd and towards safety. 

A little while later you sat at the bar with Jenna- you ate pretzels and nursed a beer, and watched the news. 

Logan had been right, it was a dangerous situation for mutants. 

Tears filled your eyes and your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched as Logan was massacred by Magneto. His body was violently filled with pieces of metal and then thrown so far the cameras didn’t catch where he landed. 

He had to be dead, no one survived something like that. He saved your life and then didn’t survive the fight he protected you from. 

None of the news outlets had any information on your mysterious savior. 

You spent the evening calling both hospitals and morgues and no one had any knowledge of Logan or even a John Doe that matched his description. 

Weeks went by with no news. There was a hole in your heart, which seemed ridiculous considering you’d only met him once, but there was something about a promise unfulfilled. 

There was a feeling as if your future had been altered completely, as if Logan was supposed to be a part of it but now he never would be. 

————————————————-

Your mutant ability to heal others and yourself led you to work in a hospital as a nurse after you completed all of your schooling. 

Years passed and you met Storm when she literally landed in your hospital, as in she was thrown by an enemy and crashed through the ceiling. 

You stared at her in shock, then jumped towards her and used your powers to heal the gash in her stomach where blood had already begun pooling. She thanked you before flying off into battle once more. 

Once the fight was won, Storm came back and asked you to come with her to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. 

You were intrigued and soon found yourself as a professor of health sciences, part time school nurse, and an X-Man on the side. You weren’t much of a fighter, during missions you really mostly hung back and healed the injured X-Men as well as any civilians fought in the crossfire. 

It was a fulfilling life, one you enjoyed immensely, but something always felt like it was missing. You dated a bit but being so busy prevented anything deep. 

There was no spark, no instant connection with anyone like there had been with Logan. You supposed it really was a once in a lifetime experience. 

It didn’t help that you weren’t interested in anyone romantically that you worked with. Storm, who had quickly become a great friend, encouraged you to give Hank a chance when he pursued you. You tried, he was nice, but it just wasn’t love, and after a few months you ended it. Luckily you were able to remain as friends. 

Time passed and Professor X pointed out to you that you didn’t appear to age. At first you brushed him off as ridiculous, but eventually consented to let Jean run tests on you. 

As it turned out, your ability to heal yourself extended to things such as diseases and life’s natural course of aging. 

Eternity yawned its horrid mouth open before you and the loneliness of it threatened to swallow you whole. 

You took a leave of absence to avoid others seeing you in the midst of an existential crisis. You traveled for a couple of months, took time to see the world in a way you never had before, met beautiful strangers, and came to terms with the fact that it was likely you would never die, that any connections you did make would die long before you were ever ready. 

You decided to make the most of life, embrace the joy and the hurt, and returned home. 

As soon as you walked through the door of the mansion, everything felt different, but perhaps it was you that was changed so irrevocably. 

You made your way towards Professor X’s office and literally ran into a man as he walked out. 

“Ugh,” you groaned as your face squished into a broad chest. The body you slammed into was so sturdy the man didn’t even stumble, he merely placed large hands on your shoulders to steady you. 

“Woah there, speedy. You alright?” A deep voice said. Something about that voice tickled something in the back of your brain, a memory from years ago. 

“Sorry!,” you exclaimed as you stepped back and looked up to see his face. 

“Logan,” you breathed out in surprise as you finally saw him. He looked nearly the same as all those years ago. His hair and clothes were slightly different, but it was definitely him. He was as handsome as the day you lost him.

He raised a brow in confusion as he looked at you. 

“Have we met?” He asked. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. The man of your dreams, the man you thought had died and yet you had continued to pine over for years, was standing before you and didn’t remember you. He didn’t remember meeting you, an experience that had been so cataclysmic in your life but apparently unimpressionable in his. 

“Yes, many years ago,” you breathed out. 

He looked you up and down and said, “Well, I really wish I remembered that.” 

You huffed a laugh to cover up the ache in your heart as you looked down at your feet. You told him your name as his hands finally slipped from your shoulders, you mourned the loss of his touch. 

As he repeated your name in that gravelly tone your heart thumped harder in your chest, despite yourself. 

“I don’t remember anything before a few years ago,” he said. 

“Oh?” You asked. Maybe it wasn’t that you were forgettable, it was just that he didn’t remember anything. 

“What happened?” You breathed out. 

Confusion and echoes of pain clouded his gorgeous hazel eyes. “I don’t remember, but I know it was painful,” he said. 

You placed a hand on his arm in comfort and said, “Maybe the professor can help you figure it out.” 

He nodded, “Not sure if I’ll be sticking around long enough. Being on a team isn’t really my thing.” 

“Sure it’s not,” you teased with a wink, thinking back to the team he was clearly a part of back when you met him. 

He grumbled something you didn’t quite catch at the same time Charles came out of his office to greet you. 

You bid Logan goodbye as you followed Charles into his office to catch up after your extended absence. 

Your heart still pounded from meeting Logan and you wore a grin you couldn’t prevent for several minutes. 

And to your delight, you found out later in the day that Logan decided to stay. You weren’t sure what the deciding factor was, but you were happy all the same. 

Maybe things would fall into place, perhaps your future could end up brighter than previously anticipated. 

————————————————-

LOGAN’S POV

Logan awoke, the same song playing on the radio, your song. He lurched out of the bed and stumbled out of the room. As he opened the door wonder filled him as he realized he was in the mansion. 

Children bustled past him as they went to their classes. Friends and family that were long since passed in his future smiled and waved at him as he walked through his home eyes full of wonder. 

It had worked, all the effort and pain had been worth it, everything was as it should be. The only question that remained was you. Where were you? 

He made his way to Charles’ office and sighed in relief when he saw him safe and alive. 

His old friend welcomed him back to the future, a better future. 

“Where is she?” He breathed out as Charles read his mind, getting a glimpse of his past. 

“She’s here, she’s safe, but Logan you should know-“ 

At that moment you walked into Charles’ office and if Logan wasn’t already sitting he would’ve fallen to his knees. He’d never seen such a beautiful sight. 

He breathed out your name like a prayer and you looked over at him. He didn’t even register the look on your face, he’d already made his way across the room and wrapped you in his arms. 

“Logan,” you squeaked out. “What the hell?” 

He lifted you up and buried his face in your neck. 

“Can’t breathe,” you huffed as you pushed on his shoulders in an attempt to get him to release you from the vice hold he had you in. 

He put you down and looked down at you, placed a hand on the side of your gorgeous face- it wasn’t until now that he took in your expression. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. 

You pulled back from him again, even went so far as to push his hand from you and took a step back. 

“What’s gotten into you? Why the hell do you think you can just-” You asked in confusion, irritation coloring your tone. 

He cut you off as he blurted out, “What? I don’t understand-“ 

“Logan, in this timeline you and her broke up,” Charles said. 

“Broke up?” Logan asked with raised eyebrows, the words lacked any meaning to him. There was no future in which he and you were not together. It was inconceivable. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Logan said. At the same time you asked, “this timeline?” 

You both looked at one another in confusion. 

“Sit, both of you, let me explain,” Charles said. 

Logan sat and watched your expression change from suspiciousness to utter shock as Charles explained that Logan was from a different future, a different timeline, and had replaced the Logan you knew. 

He didn’t remember anything after 1973, other than the horrible future he had come from. But he did remember the first time you met that day in Washington DC. Although for him that was far from the first time you’d met.

“That’s a lot of information. I think you broke my brain- that’s so confusing,” you breathed out. 

Logan’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest as he tried to gauge your reaction. 

You turned to him. “So in this future I’m guessing you and I are together?” 

Logan nodded. 

“Well not in this one,” you muttered and stood to leave. 

“Wait, princess - talk to me,” Logan pleaded as he grabbed your hand. 

You turned back and glared at him. “Logan, I don’t care which version of you it was, you broke my heart and I have no interest in sitting here listening to any more of this.” 

You yanked your hand from his and stormed out of the office. You left him feeling helpless and empty. 

He looked over at the Professor. “What happened?” He asked. 

“It’s still fresh. The others have found her crying multiple times over the last few days. I tried not to pry but-“ 

“You went into her head,” Logan guessed and Charles nodded. 

He prepared himself for the worst and the flicker of hope in his chest began to gutter. He would be devastated if after all of this he couldn’t be with you. 

“The two of you have been together for about five years, were close friends for years before that, but she ended it about a week ago during an argument. She wanted to have a child and you didn’t,” Charles explained. 

“That’s it? She wants a baby? I’ll give her a baby. I’ll give her whatever she wants, the version of me from this timeline must be a goddamn idiot,” Logan said sharply. 

Charles chuckled. “I spoke to the other you yesterday, he had come to the same conclusion. It wasn’t that he didn’t want a child, he was just letting his fears get in the way.” 

“I have to go talk to her,” Logan practically growled as he stood and stalked out of the office in search of you. 

It wasn’t difficult to find you. He had memorized the sound of your heartbeat, your scent, and was all too familiar with the salty tang of your tears. 

He found you in a bedroom he assumed was yours, he knocked and let himself in despite your garbled yell of, “Go away!” 

It was clear this was the makeshift room you’d moved into after the break up, your decorations were all in boxes, your clothes piled everywhere and spilled out of drawers, and everything all together more messy and haphazard than he knew you liked to keep things. 

You sat curled in the bed as tears streamed down your sweet face. 

“Go away Lo,“ you sniffled as you quickly wiped your tears away. 

“Oh, my sweet girl-“ Logan said in a gentle voice only you knew. 

“No, Logan I’m not yours anymore,” the words were weak and he could tell you didn’t even really mean them. 

He came closer to the bed and you glared at him but didn’t say a word as he sat down and pulled you into his lap. 

You sunk into his embrace and buried your face in his neck. He ran his hand up and down your back soothingly. 

Your fingers tangled into his shirt, your breaths were shaky, and a few more tears managed to escape. His heart ached at the pain you were in. 

“I changed the timeline of our universe to be with you. I’m not gonna let anything stand in our way. So, you want a baby, I’ll give you a baby. I’ll give you as many babies as you want. I’ll give you anything you want, I’d do anything for you. I love you,” he said and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“But-“ 

“And before you ask, Charles told me that the Logan in this future had come to the same conclusion and was planning on making things right with you today. In every timeline, I want to make you happy.” 

He wiped the tears from your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Did we ever talk about kids in your future?” You asked in a soft vulnerable voice. 

He held you tighter. 

“Only once, but it wasn’t a possibility for us, that future was too dangerous. So dangerous that I lost you. I wouldn’t survive losing you again.” 

At the pain in his voice you pulled back enough to meet his gaze. 

“Tell me about that future,” you asked gently. 

And so he did, every awful part of it as he held you in his arms and reminded himself that this was real, that you were safe and alive, that this was his new future. 

You wiped the tear that slipped down his face as you looked up at him in awe. 

“You did all that for me? For us?” You asked in wonder. 

“I’d do anything for you,” he said fervently. You placed your hand on the side of his face and his eyes fluttered closed as he finally, finally received affection from you after so long. 

He nuzzled his face into your hand, pressed his lips against the pulse point at your wrist, finally let himself sink into your intoxicating presence. 

You slipped your hand into his hair and pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips. The weight of time without you pressed in on him and his self control snapped, with one hand on the back of your head and the other on your waist, he crushed you against his body and kissed you with desperation. 

He wanted to consume you, to sink inside you, to never be apart from you again. 

You made a high pitched sweet sound of surprise before you kissed him just as fervently. He groaned into your mouth at the taste of you as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

It was absolute heaven. 

This kiss could have gone on for hours or perhaps only seconds, he didn't know, no time was enough with you. 

You pulled back and looked at him. “I love you,” you said. 

“I love you,” he groaned and pressed his lips to yours repeatedly. 

You breathed out a soft giggle at his expression of adoration. 

He tilted his head back to look you deep in the eyes once more and said, “Let’s make a baby.” 

You looked flustered and he thought it was the sweetest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Right now? I-“ 

“I’ve missed you so much, sweetheart. I want to. Wanna give you want you want,” he moaned as he kissed you again. 

“Missed you too,” you whimpered as his lips drifted across your jaw and down your throat. 

————————————————-

YOUR POV

It was all consuming. He was everywhere all at once as he laid you on your back and pressed himself on top of you. 

The weight and heat of him was both comforting and intoxicating. The last few hours had given you emotional whiplash, but it was Logan. 

Apparently he was your soulmate no matter the timeline. He kissed you as if he were drowning and you were his breath of fresh air. He said everything you’d been dreaming of, and more as he declared his love and promised to fulfill your every desire. 

There was nothing the two of you couldn’t overcome as a team. You loved him and he loved you, and maybe that was all that mattered. 

As he bit down on your neck, all other thoughts flew from your head, it was just him. You and him- forever. There would be no long lonely life, he would be by your side always. 

“Logan,” you gasped and he groaned against your neck as he continued to nip and suck at the skin there. He loved to mark you as his and the thought made your toes curl. 

As if he could read your mind, he said, “Tell me you’re mine.”

His tongue licked up the column of your throat and you panted, “I’m yours, Lo. Only yours.” 

“Marry me,” he murmured against your skin. 

‘What?” You breathed out as you placed your hands on either side of your face and pulled him back enough to meet his hazel gaze. His pupils were blown with a combination of love and lust which caused heat to fill your entire body. 

“Marry me,” he repeated, then pressed his lips to yours again. 

“Yes,” you gasped into his mouth. His fingers gripped your waist tighter as they slipped under your shirt and met your heated skin. 

“Let me make you mine forever,” he growled and you whimpered and nodded as you tugged at his t-shirt. 

He helped you pull it off him and you let out a soft groan as your hand explored his broad chest, then down his muscled torso as you followed the trail of hair that led to the vee partially hidden beneath his jeans. Your mouth watered as your hand reached his belt, and you saw the evidence of his desire for you straining against his pants. 

He snatched your hand right as you were about to reach his hardened length and you whined in frustration. 

“Please, Lo,” you breathed out and he smirked in that cocky way that made you want to either smack him or suck him off. 

“No, I’m gonna take my time with you, pretty girl,” he said as he pulled your shirt off, then immediately followed with removing your bra. You whimpered again at the feeling of his skin against yours as he leaned back down and kissed you. 

His lips trailed to your breasts and you moaned as he licked and suckled at your sensitive nipples. Your core heated and throbbed as you became slick with desire for him.

You gripped the muscles of his tensed shoulders as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist. 

You attempted to grind yourself against his hard cock but he bit down on your neck in reprimand. 

“Stop that,” he growled. 

You moaned in response and he chuckled darkly. Suddenly he sat up- and you squeaked in surprise at the sudden shift as he stood from the bed. Before you could respond, he yanked you to the edge of the bed and kneeled before you. 

“C’mon, be a good girl and I’ll reward you with my cock, I’ll fill you to the brim, give you a baby just like you want. You just have to be a good girl and let me make you come on my tongue, can you do that princess- hm?” 

You moaned at his words, nodding vigorously as he slid off your jeans and spread your legs before him. 

“Use your words,” he taunted as he rested your legs on his broad shoulders. 

His nose ran up, up, up the inside of your thigh until it reached your panties. He groaned deeply as he took in a deep breath- turned near feral at the scent of your arousal. 

“Yes, yes, I’ll be good, please- just please, Lo,” you babbled. 

Another deep noise from the back of his throat came from the sounds of your sweet begging as he used his teeth to pull your panties off. 

You gasped as his warm wet tongue licked up your gushing pussy, all the way from your hole to your throbbing clit. 

“You this wet just for me, princess?” He said, the words muffled against your cunt. He began flicking his tongue over the most sensitive part of you and you keened. 

Your back arched and you plunged your fingers into his hair, your fingers tangled in and gripped the brown and silver strands. 

“Yes, for you, only for you, always for you,” rambled. 

The squelching sounds of your cunt as he pressed two fingers inside mixed with your heavy pants and his groans to create the most erotic symphony you’d ever heard. 

Your whines reached a fever pitch as his fingers curdled and pressed against the spongy spot inside you that made you forget anything but his name as his tongue continued to flick and swirl around your clit. 

“Logan!” you moaned. 

“Missed this pretty pussy,” he growled. 

Heat filled you as electricity prickled up your spine. You writhed on the bed and pressed your cunt closer to his mouth.  

One of his large hands smacked your hip lightly in reprimand. He then laid his arm down across your waist to hold you still. 

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl, or do I need to stop,” he teased as he looked up at you and you moaned. 

You slick coated his lips and beard, his hair was disheveled from your hands, and his gorgeous eyes were blown with desire. 

“No, I’ll be good, promise,” you panted. 

He smiled at you, the kind of smile a predator gives their prey before they pounce, and licked you once again. 

You were completely at his mercy, pinned to the bed, his fingers inside you and his mouth on your cunt. 

You dug your heels into the muscles of his back in an attempt to urge him on.  

The tension inside you built and built as his tongue continued its ministrations. 

“M’gonna come, Lo,” you whined. 

“Good girl, come for me,” he replied then sucked on your clit. 

The pleasure was so intense as his thick fingers continued to hit that spot inside you that lightning ran up your spine and you came with a moan of his name. 

He continued to lick until you yanked on his hair in an attempt to pull his head away as his arm across your hips kept you pinned to the bed and wiggling away wasn’t an option. 

He chuckled darkly as he pressed a final kiss to your bundle of pleasure then looked up at you. 

“Did I do good? You gonna reward me with your cock, daddy?” you asked. 

There was a heartbeat before he replied, where you worried you went too far as he looked at you in surprise.

But then came his response, “Fuck. Yes, sweetheart, you’re perfect. Daddy’s gonna give you his cock, gonna fill you up real good.” 

You whimpered in desire as he stood. You sat up and immediately began to yank at his belt. 

He smirked as he looked down on you- watched you in your desperation to reach his thick cock. 

Your mouth watered as you won your fight with his belt and zipper and yanked the jeans down enough to get a glimpse of his gloriously hard dick. 

Logan finally took pity on you and helped you to remove his pants altogether, which left him wonderfully bare before you. 

Good god, he was sexy- his rippling muscles glistened with sweat and you wanted to lick every inch of his skin. 

He lifted your face with a hand on your chin so you would meet his eyes once more. 

At the heat in his gaze you felt yourself gush even more. 

His thumb brushed across your bottom lip and you obediently opened your mouth. He pressed his thumb into your mouth and you moaned softly as you sucked on it. 

“Shit, you’re killing me, pretty girl. Lay back, I need to be inside you,” he growled. 

You let him pull his thumb out of your mouth and looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Can I taste you first?” you asked sweetly. 

His eyes rolled back into his head and he gripped your chin tighter. 

“Course you can, my good girl gets whatever she wants,” he said then led your face closer to his cock. 

You wanted to live in this moment forever, your head fuzzy with ecstasy only he could provide and empty of anything but him as you were eager to please him. You wanted to be his - in every possible way. 

You wrapped one hand around the base of his cock and pressed a kiss to the tip as you looked up at him. His breaths stuttered and power rushed to your head. You had this big strong man literally in the palm of your hand as you gave him pleasure that nearly brought him to his knees as your tongue peeked out and you licked the sensitive underside of his tip. 

He groaned your name and that prompted you on as you opened your mouth and began to take in some of his length and suckled gently. 

You moaned at the salty taste of him in your mouth, and took him in deeper as your hand worked in tandem. 

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured. 

You rubbed your thighs together in an desperate but fruitless attempt to generate friction as your clit throbbed again with need. There was nothing as delicious as the grunts and groans Logan made as you took him deeper into your mouth. 

His hand slipped from the side of your face to cradle the back of your head and you moaned around his length as he led you to take him deeper into your throat. You took deep breaths through your nose as you swallowed him, taking him in far enough that you no longer needed to use your hand and instead used your hand to gently cup his balls. 

“That’s it, doing so good f’me,” Logan groaned. 

The musky scent of him filled your nostrils as your nose brushed against the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. His other hand began to flick and pinch at your nipple and you moaned around his length. 

His size was substantial, but you were used to it at this point and your head emptied, only Logan present in your mind, as you let him guide your mouth up and down on his cock as you sucked him deeper. 

It was everything you wanted and more, until he pulled you off him. A string of saliva connected from your bottom lip to his tip as you gasped for air and looked up at him. 

He wiped away the spit as he murmured out, “fuckin’ perfect.” 

You whimpered as he surged forward and kissed you, near feral with desire. 

“Logan,” you gasped as he manhandled you further back onto the bed and laid himself on top of you. 

He continued to kiss you, his lips moved against yours and you surged closer- your chin bumped his as you kissed him urgently. His tongue explored your mouth and electricity filled you. Your body was filled with desperation as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist. 

“Need you inside me, please daddy, need your huge cock inside me, need you to fill me up,” you pleaded as he began to kiss and suck on your neck. You knew there would be bruises there tomorrow, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care - it was only more evidence that you belonged to him. 

He chuckled darkly and said, “You sound so pretty when you beg, princess. Don’t worry, daddy’s got you.” He reached down and lined his cock up to your desperate hole and you whined in relief. 

Slowly, so slowly, Logan pressed himself inside you. Inch by inch he sunk his cock deep inside your cunt and the feeling was unlike any other. 

He caged you in with his large arms on either side of your head and you pulled his face down for another desperate kiss. 

Once he was seated fully inside you, it was as if all the franticness of the moment dissipated and you both felt the need to savor the moment, to extend it for as long as possible, to live in this experience of perfection for eternity. 

There were times that sex with Logan was rough and animalistic, but you both knew that this wouldn’t be one of those times. This was making love - this was a reunion, a reconciliation, a healing of hurts, a fusion of souls. 

You looked deep into his eyes and found home. 

You locked your ankles around his waist to keep him close, the desire to be as close to him as possible all consuming. His deep breaths pressed his chest against yours and there was nothing in the world but you and him. 

One of his hands stroked your arm as you reached up and placed your hand on the side of his face. The other rested against his shoulder as you gripped the muscles you found there. 

You caressed his cheek and ran your fingers in his beard. 

“I love you,” you whispered. 

His eyes became bright with emotion, he had the prettiest eyes you’d ever seen- dark green with rings of brown that held unconditional love for you. 

He murmured your name and it sounded like a prayer of devotion as it fell from his plush lips. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips. 

He pulled back enough to press his forehead against yours. 

“I love you more than anything,” he replied. 

You felt perfectly incandescently happy, so wonderfully full of him, and despite both of your desires for this moment to never end, you also needed him to move inside you. 

“Please, Lo,” you breathed out. 

He knew exactly what you meant and he braced his forearms on either side of your head and pulled his hips back. Logan pulled back enough that only the tip of his cock remained inside you, before he sunk back in slowly. 

Your breaths mingled with his and it felt as if the two of you were on an island of your own- as if you were the only two people in the world. 

There was a feeling of connectedness, as if the puzzle pieces had all finally fallen into place, as your heartbeat sped and began to beat in time with his. 

“You feel so good, so big,” you breathed out as he continued his slow steady pace. Again, and again, and again he pushed himself inside you. 

He moaned and kissed you again, this time messy and more urgent. 

The string of fate that connected the two of you pulled taunt, became stronger as a result of your union, as you declared to one another your infinite commitment and love. 

You clenched down as he increased his pace. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl, so fuckin’ tight,” he said, his lips moved against yours as he imprinted the praise into your mouth. 

There was a delicious feeling of fullness as you felt stretched and stuffed to the brim with his cock, as your heart threatened to burst at the care he showed you. Your hands ran across his arms and shoulders, around and down to his back where your nails dug into the sweat slicked muscles you found there. 

He grunted and again increased his pace. Your thighs tightened around his waist and you held onto him more securely as he pistoned his cock inside you. 

There was no better feeling than when he was inside you. His cock repeatedly hit that spot deep within that made you see stars and you felt that familiar burning inside you begin to grow. 

There was no possible way to be closer to him. His face was buried in your throat, his chest pressed against yours and every thrust brushed your sensitive nipples against the hair there, your puffy clit felt shockwaves of every thrust as his groin grinded against it, the slick of your arousal coated you both- there was no possible way to be closer to him, and yet somehow you needed more. 

“Daddy, please,” you gasped. 

“Mhm, is this what my pretty girl needs?” 

He shoved a hand between your bodies and began to press tight circles against your throbbing clit. 

“Yes!” You let out a high pitched whine as you threw your head back let out a low groan as you clenched down on his thick cock. 

The squelching sounds of your joining bodies should’ve made you embarrassed, but white hot pleasure eroded all your senses. 

“C’mon pretty baby, come for daddy and then I’ll fill you up, I’ll make you full of me, make sure everyone knows you’re mine with my ring on your finger and my baby in your stomach. S’that what you want? Huh? You want everyone to know you’re mine?” he growled in your ear. 

“God, y-yes, Logan- fuck,” you stuttered out. 

He continued to fuck into you with those long harsh thrusts, the pace quick and intense as his finger drew tight circles on your overstimulated clit. It balanced you on the line of pleasure and pain, but his words pushed you over the edge. 

You gasped loudly, “M’gonna come!”

He grabbed your face and said, “Look at me.” 

White hot pleasure exploded through you. Your eyes fluttered open and you stared deep into his intense gaze as you came on his cock. 

He groaned along with you as you clenched down on him. 

“Shit, that’s my good girl,” he said and kissed you sloppily. 

You keened at the praise, your head fuzzy with ecstacy. Your nails again dug into his back as he continued to pump himself inside you as he chased his own release. 

His breaths came harder as his sweat slicked skin slid against yours. His hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise as his pace somehow increased. 

There was nothing you could do but take it. This-this was bliss, this was perfection. 

“Want you to fill me up, want you to come in me, please Lo,” you whined. 

He groaned and with one more deep thrust he pushed himself as far inside you as possible and came. He filled you up, with stuttered breaths and hips, he came until he had nothing else to give. 

You pulled your head back from his neck, where you had bit down- hard, and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

You could’ve sworn that the thread of fate, the connection between the two of you glowed in the aftermath. 

With a grunt, he flipped over onto his back as he held you tight, and kept you against him and pulled you on top of him as he kept his cock inside you. 

You rested your head against his chest. 

“Can we just stay like this for a while?” you asked. 

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head as his large hand ran up and down your back.  

“Of course, princess. Anything you want.” 

And so you did. After all, time was a minuscule thing when the entirety of a new future together stretched before you. 

[saphiccarma]

- Sweet Thing

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - Sirens weren't all that bad, instead hunted for their tails that had glimmering scales worth a high amount of value. Agatha and Rio intended to sell your tail, but soon became rather attatched

Warnings: Kidnapping (fishnapping?), spear wound, non consensual kissing (Kind of? Reader doesn't know human customs so it's a bit iffy)

A/N: Uhm- I fell in love with this prompt and this is my fav thing I've written for aaa week so far.

Sirens were creatures of the sea, brilliant ones that were meant to swim free and wild. Unlike most tales, you did not sing sailors to their death, only a few sirens chose to do that. The sun bore down on the vast ocean, not able to reach the depths where you lived, so you swam near the surface. It was a dangerous move to do so. Pirates still roamed the seas, even as far out as you were, and sirens' tails sold for a high price.

Typically, you lived in the depths where humans couldn't reach, swirling in between coral and rocks while following colorful fish. Flat areas were used as farming grounds for food. It was a perfect life, yet part of you still longed for the human world. You had never gone close to shore before, always living too far out. Not only that but your father had prevented you from contact with humans.

As you grew older, so did your defiance for your father and you had been wandering closer to the surface, going further away from home and closer to the shore. Once you had gotten close enough to hear voices. People danced along the shore in the night, sticks with a bright thing glowing off of them. From what you had heard they were torches. Humans swung their arms and feet, joyful laughter echoing as odd garments attached to them swayed with their movements.

You wished so desperately to join them.

Sirens were rumored to be able to transform into humans, tails shifting to legs, gills and fins disappearing into your skin. The odd tint of your skin would disperse, and you would look like a normal person. You never had the confidence to try it out. Humans wore these odd things, clothes, your grandma called them. Sirens didn't have clothes. You figured you would stand out too much and that was the last thing you wanted if you were trying to explore the human world.

Seagulls cawed above you as you leisurely floated near the surface, the tip of your tail peeking out. There was only a split second you had after you saw them. A large ship, its sides climbing up and up, wooden panels lined up neatly to prevent water from getting in. Large metal nozzles peaked out the side. Silver flashed through the air and then there was a piercing pain in your tail.

Yelping, you paled when you bled into the water, a sharp spear sticking out of your tail. Panic overcame you as you reached to pull it out, wincing at the sting. It had gone all the way through your tail. Scales came out with it, leaving bare skin and a large hole in your tail. Shock kept you stuck in place, staring at the gaping gap in your tail that leaked a bright red.

"Dammit Billy!" You heard a voice curse from the ship and your head snapped up, eyes widening with fear, "You weren't supposed to hit the tail."

Once again you hardly had time to react before a net was hurling at you. With your tail damaged and pain pulsing through you, you weren't able to get away as the net dropped down on you and closed all around you. A scream bubbled in your throat. There was a harsh tug and then you were dangling in the air, your blood dripping into the water and you could see shark fins circling below.

You winced as your body slammed into the ship, wood digging into your sensitive skin. Thrashing as you were dragged across the wood, you tried to break free. But your tail flapped uselessly, and your arms did nothing against the ropes. A taunting chuckle echoed behind you, and you were no longer being dragged across the wood. You stopped in your struggles for a moment, meeting eyes with a woman.

Her piercing eyes were an icy blue, framed by brown hair that fell around her face and highlighted her sharp cheekbones. Her tongue dragged over her pink lips as she crouched, one hand on her knee, and studied you.

There was nothing you could do to stop the fear that tore through your system. It overran any common sense you otherwise would've had and numbed the pain in your tail. Blood leaked onto the deck, seeping into the wood and staining it an even darker color.

Another woman stood behind the blue eyed one. This one had big brown eyes, one that was often associated with childlike innocence, but she looked anything but innocent. Her lips, a pale pink, were pulled into a smirk that made her eyes twinkle with dark joy. A knife twirled between her fingers and when your gaze caught on it your breath hitched. Sun light bounced off it, highlighting the sharp edge.

She met your eye, pausing in her fidgety movements, and held the knife up for you to see. You flinched back, trying to get away. Your eyes flickered around for an escape, searching for somewhere to go.

It was then that you noticed how many people were here, watching in silence. There were four others on board. A woman who had a pink shirt, one with red in her hair, and older woman who looked weird, and a young boy - the youngest out of all of them. His eyes were wide, and face flushed as he looked away from you, keeping his gaze

Inhaling shakily, you forced a question past your lips, "What do you want with me?" Your words were unsteady, hesitance and fear dripping from them.

"Well, we wanted your tail," the blue-eyed woman drawled, "But then Billy hit it, so you have no more use, hon."

"You’re pirates," you breathed softly. If you thought you were scared before, it was worse now. Your heart beat frantically in your chest. Humans may have portrayed sirens as these horrible creatures, luring sailors to their death for fun, but that was only some of you. Sirens told tales of pirates who murdered their friends in cold blood, laughing as the blood tainted the water and dolphins pocked at their bodies sadly. Pirates were the most brutal type of humans.

"Well, I thought that was obvious," She glanced around dramatically, her long fingers flaring around. Your tail twitched.

"She needs medical care Agatha," the boy, Billy you think, said. He made a pointed glance towards your tail which was leaking out onto the deck, a steady stream of blood. Your head was lightheaded as you propped yourself on your elbows.

"Put me back in the water and I'll be fine," you mumbled. Your father will find you. Or the fish would tell him. It didn't matter but you would rather die in the ocean then on this ship.

Agatha scoffed, her head tipping back slightly, "That's funny." She leaned closer for a brief moment, eyes slowly dragging from your face down to the gaping wound in your tail. "Billy go get some cloth and a needle with string. And what are the rest of you doing? Get back to work!" Everyone but the brown eyed brunette left, Billy scurrying away to get whatever she ordered.

With a small nod from Agatha, the other woman stepped forward, her smirk widening as she twirled her knife around. You flinched when she bent down, prepared for more pain. Except she only cut through the rope and let it fall to the floor.

"She's skittish," She said, glancing at Agatha with some sort of emotion gleaming in her eyes, "I like it."

Billy came back a moment later, carrying a bundle of cloth in his hand with a needle and string in the other. He averted his eyes towards the ground as he got closer. The shiny metal caught your eyes, and they widened in more fear. You tried to scramble back, no longer tangled by the rope, but it did little use when Agatha grabbed the tip of your tail and yanked you back. A yelp escaped your lips as she held you firmly in place, despite your frantic squirming.

"Hold still," she snapped. Her hands were surprisingly tender as they pressed the cloth onto your wound, the white material becoming red quickly. The other woman knelt by your head, her hands held out placatingly before she pressed down on your shoulders, forcing you to lay down. Her eyes lingered on your chest for a moment, something dark in her eyes.

"How does your healing work?" Her words were soft, not matching the mischievous glint in her eyes.

You gasped when Agatha pressed down on the wound, your tail flicking up, "Uhm- like normal?"

You watched as Agatha raised an unimpressed eyebrow as she wiped the blood on your tail, the cloth occasionally catching on your scales. They shimmered under the sunlight, and you were suddenly aware of how hot it was up here. It was like you were being held above a heat vent, the water bubbling and searing your skin. Your skin and scales were drying out.

Baring your teeth, you hissed when Agatha swiped through the wound, her towel collecting blood and giving you a clearer view. A hand cupped your chin, tilting your head up and forcing your mouth open. An offended sound left your throat as the brown eyed woman examined your mouth. She squeezed your cheeks and leant closer.

Their hands were all over you, on your tail, your face - it was too much. You shoved at the woman holding your face, although that did nothing but make her tighten her grip and grin wildly. Her eyes were ablaze with delight as she tugged your face close.

"Don't do that," her voice was light, almost like a song, "Be nice."

Agatha scoffed from her spot at your tail, glancing up with a small smile. You would snarl at her if you could, but the other woman still held you tightly. Her grip was bruising against your face and her nails dug into your skin. She hummed as she twisted you, giving her different angles of your fangs that protruded like spikes from your gums.

It was a defense mechanism that ran in your specific genes, but it did nothing to help you now. Finally, she let you go, her fingers uncurling from your cheeks, but her eyes never left your face.

"Can you have stitches?" Agatha was threading the string through the needle as she asked the question, sitting back on her shins.

You blinked, wide eyed and confused, "Those are?"

"I'll take that as a no," she sighed, chewing on her lower lip, "How do you heal?"

"I've never-" you shrugged. Pain throbbed from your tail, worse than anything you had ever felt. You had gotten small nicks and cuts before. "Nothing has been this bad."

Agatha threw the needle onto the ground, "Well that's helpful." She glared at you as if it was your fault that you had been speared through your tail. You returned her harsh look.

"Water," you croaked, your throat suddenly dry. The two women exchanged a glance before the unknown one stood, her boots clicking on the floor. Biting pain coursed through your veins, and you wished it would stop. The harsh sun beating down didn't help as you lacked the familiar comfort of the sea. A moment later the other woman returned, a bucket in her hands before she splashed it all over your tail. It wasn't graceful or much but soothed the ache of the puncture.

Agatha leaned past your tail, cupping your chin in her face with a sick grin, "I think I'll keep you."

^____________^

A few day cycles in you figured out how to turn into your human form, your tails becoming legs and gills vanishing. The only thing that remained was your sharp teeth. It was awkward at first, stumbling around as you tried to figure out how to walk. They made it look so easy and Agatha and Rio laughed as you fell flat on your face.

The two had dressed you in their clothes. It felt restricting to be confined by such human things and you hated it, but apparently that was what was expected by humans. You were stuck in their room, stuck to stare longingly out into the sea as you watched the waves crash up against the side of the boat, but they never let you out. If you were let out, you were bolt in an instant and jump into the sea.

Billy brought you food on a tray with a sympathetic smile and a soothing voice. He offered empathy, a listening ear, which you turned down at first. Then days turned into more and you were still stuck in the room. You took up Billy's offer to talk when the days began to become longer and longer, drawing out as if they would never end.

Agatha and Rio would return at night, snuggling up in their bed as you slept on one parallel to theirs. Once you had woken up to the bed creaking and obscene moans being drawn out. You had flipped over, the blanket pulled up to your shoulder, as you sat still as a rock in bed. After casually mentioning it to Billy when he came to see you, he turned bright red and spluttered before explaining it was the way humans reproduced. You decided not to question it more after that.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, the door creaked open, Agatha walking in. Rio trailed behind with her hands shoved casually in her pockets. Per usual, you scrambled back as far as possible on your bed, hissing. Agatha rolled her eyes. She sat on the edge of the bed, eyes scanning over you in a way you would never understand. It was as if she was trying to see inside of you. She scooched closer and you bared your teeth.

Lips curling in annoyance, Agatha's hand shot forward, grabbing your chin. There was a split second before she had a tool in her hand, pliers if you remembered correctly, and they were latched tight onto your teeth.

She leaned in close, her eyes narrowed, "I told you to stop that," her voice was low, a warning, "I will give you one more chance before I yank your teeth out, understand?"

Rio was smirking behind her when you glanced back, your cheeks flushed a dark red. Agatha raised a brow.

"Understood?"

You huffed but nodded the best you could with her firm grip on you. Her nails dug into your skin one more time before she let go with a satisfied smirk. Closing your mouth, you licked your lips and sat back, face red as the tomatoes Billy showed you how to juggle with once. Agatha twirled the pliers in her fingers before shoving them into her pocket.

"How would you like to leave this room?" Agatha's words sent a jolt of joy through you, and you perked up, pointed ears alert and ready to hear what she had to say. She smiled at your excitement, "Hang on pretty girl, there's a couple things first. If you try to run, I will lock you back up in this room again. You are to stay by my side. Do not make me tie you up like a dog."

You tilted your head, blinking at her. What was a dog? Although being tied up did not sound like fun, after a moment you reluctantly nodded. There was hardly a moment before Rio's hand was latched onto your forearm and she was dragging you out. You stumbled over your own two feet, still not used to without a fin, and let Rio drag you along. Not that you had a choice.

You glanced back at Agatha for help, but the woman was just watching in amusement, eyes twinkling brightly.

"Alright," Rio said softly, shoving a door open, "Here's the sun."

Blinking, you took in the sunlight, hand coming up to shield your eyes. It shone down brightly, a harsh heat compared to the cool of the bedroom. While the coolness reminded you of the depths of the ocean, it was nice to see the sun again. You tilted your face up, closing your eyes and letting the heat seep into your skin. You hardly noticed Rio's grip on your arm, or the way it loosened, and she stood watching you with a soft smile.

"Y/N!" Billy's loud voice interrupted your peace, and your eyes snapped open. He was running towards you, shirt untucked and flapping in the slight wind like his fluffy black hair.

You forced a smile onto your lips after a nervous glance at Rio, "Hey Billy."

He grabbed your hand, tearing you away from Rio. You were partially glad for the distance from the woman, but a part of you wanted to be near her. Billy dragged you up the stairs, once again tripping over your own two feet. It was a miracle that they managed to stay on them for the whole day.

The sea splashed against the side of the boat, a consistent and steady sound that made you long for the sea even more. That deep yearning inside of you arose again, even stronger than before. Your eyes latched onto the waves, imagining yourself in them. You would no longer have legs - you would have a fin and gills again and the wet feeling of the water on your skin.

The fish circling around you, the water cool and comforting. A little bit of sun shining through the blue surface when you came up. Your family's faces were slowly fading from your mind, but you still longed to be with them again.

You didn't realize that since you stopped so did Billy, his hand still in yours as he stared at you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "You don't deserve this."

You shrugged. Maybe you did deserve it. Even after hundreds of lectures from your father, you still chose to push your luck. The thrill of adrenaline you got made it all worth it. If you had just listened, then this never would have happened.

"Billy," Agatha's voice cut through the air, "I'll take her from here."

Billy smiled sheepishly, directing one to you with a deeper meaning, before he scurried off. Agatha gave him an affectionate glance before she turned her eyes to you, an unamused look in them.

"Don't let Billy drag you around." She muttered it like it was a piece of advice, but it sounded more like a command. You rolled your eyes at her and curled your lips in defiance. Agatha narrowed her eyes and grabbed you by the arm. "Watch the attitude."

And once again you were tempted to respond with some sort of snark but refrained in exchange for walking away and further up the deck. The wind blew your hair in your face and whipped against your skin. It wasn't so different from the underwater currents and made you miss home even more. Agatha trailed behind you, although you could hear a second set of footsteps that told you Rio was there too.

You wandered up the front of the ship and stared down into the water. It would be so easy to jump.

A hand clamped down your shoulder and hot breath hovered by your ear, "You gonna jump?" Rio lips brushed against your cheekbone as she leaned even closer, and you could feel her chest press up against your back. A part of you wanted to pull away from her touch, leap into the water and enjoy the comforting embrace, but something held you there. It wasn't Rio's hand, nor Agatha's piercing gaze.

Even as you tried to pick your feet up off the wooden deck, you failed. It was as if you were stuck in place. Frustration boiled in your stomach as time passed on and your brows furrowed.

The waves crashed against the ship, seemingly more aggressive in tune to your emotions. Tears of resentment pooled in your eyes and your fists clenched.

"Why?" you croaked, "Why not just let me go?"

Rio's lip teased the column of your throat, and you shrugged her off while your heart pounded in your chest.  You could practically feel her smirk even though you couldn't see her. The movement of her lips felt personal although you didn't know why, it felt as if it meant more, but you didn't know why. Her arms slowly circled around your waist, tugging you even closer and trapping you.

"Because you're too sweet to let go," she whispered against your skin. Your lip wobbled as she squeezed you tight and kept her palms flat against your stomach. Dolphins surfaced, their fins peeking through the top of the water as they leapt and dived happily. It irked you that you couldn't be there with them. You used to swim with dolphins every chance you got, swerving through you their pods like an obstacle course.

The thought only made your eyes burn further and your heart tighten.

"I want to go home."

You hated how broken your voice sounded, how cracked it was. Desperation leaked through as you felt a tear fall. Another human weakness. It trailed down your cheek and you felt Agatha's hands cup your face, turning you towards her. Blue eyes, shimmering with desire, met yours. Except hers weren’t filled with tears. Agatha’s hands were so gentle on your face, kinder than she should be.

Her thumb wiped away the fallen tear with a soft smile, one that almost hid the sharp look in her eyes, "This is your home."

[dfortrafalgar]

Distraction

Portgas D. Ace x Fem!Reader

You and Ace intended to spend the day at the beach, but he can’t seem to be able to relax.

Warnings: modern au, so much smut. like so much smut. wet, sticky smut. 69-ing briefly. reader is also written to be on the chubbier side (im projecting <3) ace fucks you in the back of his car, basically. MINORS DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.

I woke up thinking about Ace today so I cranked this out in, like, an hour. It was a nice change of pace while I've been finishing up IMLY and the Luffy fic from my poll, which is almost done! (speaking of which, thank you for 200 followers <3)

Ace hadn’t seen your swimsuit yet.  All he knew about it was that you purchased it recently on a shopping trip with a group of your friends, but it was currently concealed under a light t-shirt and denim shorts.  Throughout the drive to the shoreline, he was anxiously eyeing your bare thighs, his grip on the steering wheel of his station wagon turning his knuckles white.

“What’s got you so nervous over there?”  Your airly voice shook the freckled man out of his daze.  “Eyes on the road, hotshot.”

“It’s nothing,” he blurted, pouting and turning his attention back to the road.  Maybe he should have you sit in the backseat when your skin was exposed.

His own friends often joked that he was no better than a dog.  It wasn’t his fault that his sex drive was higher than cruising altitude… or maybe it was.  But he couldn’t help his wandering eyes when the soft skin of your plush thighs was exposed, or the way your deft hands fiddled with your cuticles as you stared out the window, sparkling eyes taking in the cloudless summer day as the backroads passed by on the drive to the beach.  Most of your evenings together were spent with either his head between your legs, your head between his legs, or your face smushed into a soft pillow while Ace desperately railed you from behind.

It was a good life, that’s for sure.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been to the beach,” you suddenly stated, turning your head to look at your flustered boyfriend.  “I’ve only ever been swimming in pools recently!”

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, his voice shaky.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern.  “Ace, are you really alright?  Your face is kind of red.”  You reached your hand over to press your palm to his forehead.  “You don’t feel like you have a fever, do you?”

“Nah, I feel fine.  Honestly.  Just… thinking.”  One of his hands left the steering wheel to rub his sweating palm against the fabric of his swim trunks.  All he had on, other than the baggy trunks, was a white tank top that had a very unfortunate oil stain around the chest area.  He was sure his entire upper body was flushing red with the debauched thoughts that plagued his weary brain.  He hadn’t even seen your bathing suit yet and his mind was running in circles.  (He started to debate calling up that therapist that Sabo recommended.)

“Well, tell me if you really don’t feel good.  I don’t want you to force yourself to be out today just because of me,” you cooed, your voice soft and comforting.

He needed to tell you to stop talking.  Even the sound of your voice made butterflies swarm in his gut.

He might as well have been ovulating.

After what felt like an eternity, the trees surrounding the backroad route he had taken began to dissipate, replaced with the beautiful sight of the shoreline.  The ocean spanned outward as far as you could see, disappearing along the horizon and blending in with the bright blue sky.  A few small beach houses dotted the shore.

“You said this was a public beach, right?” you asked curiously.

Ace nodded, swallowing a thick glob of spit.  “Public, but very minimal.  There’s some private properties surrounding it so a lot of people assume the entire place is off-limits to locals, but there’s a small parking lot set back from the beach near a tiny bathroom shack-lookin’ thing.”

You grinned.  “Nice.”

“Do you not like public beaches?” he inquired, tossing you a side eye as he pulled further down the road, approaching the aforementioned parking lot.

“I don’t mind them,” you replied.  “But sometimes really busy beaches make me nervous.  Sometimes I don’t feel comfortable swimming when there’s too many people around… I get self-conscious in my bathing suits!”  Your statement was punctuated with a fluttering, nervous laugh as you involuntarily squeezed the skin of your thighs.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that when I’m here,” Ace replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

The parking lot seemed sparse.  It was entirely gravel with a few decrepit wooden fences separating where cars could park, some overgrown weeds poking through the impacted dirt here and there.  Sure enough, there was a brown, run-down bathroom shack between the beach and the parking lot.  During high tide, it almost seemed like the entire area would get flooded, but the gravel was drier than bone thanks to the beating sunlight.

You dug through your bag, removing a tube of sunblock.

“I thought you already put on sunscreen before we left,” Ace said, pulling into a spot and putting his beat-up station wagon in park.

“I did, I’m just putting some extra on my face,” you responded, uncapping the tube and squeezing some of the white gel onto your fingers.  You deftly rubbed the lotion onto your skin, across your cheeks and brow, down your nose, and down your neck.  

Ace needed to look away from you as your hands trailed down your neck and across your collarbones, ridding your hands of the excess lotion.  You weren’t provoking him on purpose, he knew that, but clearly his dick was taking charge of the day.

Little prick.

The two of you excitedly exited the car, grabbing your small umbrella and towels to find a nice spot to set up camp on the sand.  You were quick to lay down your towel when you found a spot, Ace digging a deep hole into the ground to mount the umbrella and provide a shelter from the beating sunlight.  Only a few other people were dotted around the beach, mostly older folk who were most certainly retired and enjoying their elderly days basking in the sunlight.  The thought made you smile.  You watched with glittering eyes as Ace pulled his tank top over his lean body, his muscular chest rippling with his movements, letting the cloth fall into his bag in a wrinkled heap.

“Oh, shit, forgot the cooler,” Ace mumbled suddenly.  “I’ll be right back.”  He swiftly turned tail and hiked through the sand back to his car.

You smiled, crawling under the umbrella and feeling the sand beneath the fabric shift below your knees.  You slid your denim shorts down your legs, shifting your weight to pull them off before folding them neatly and tucking them into your beach bag.  Your shirt followed, your hands hooking under the bottom hem and pulling it up over your head, repeating the process of folding it and storing it away.  Weirdly enough, you felt more comfortable on this beach than any other.  While some old folk liked to gab, the sparse population on this beach seemed more than willing to keep to themselves.  And there was no risk of creepy men your age or obnoxious teenagers to toss rogue comments about your body or shitty pick-up lines.

And you had Ace, of course, who would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked.  The thought made your stomach flutter with glee.

Back in the parking lot, Ace was quick to haul open his trunk and grab the small cooler they had packed with water, some sodas, and some light snacks, slinging it over his bare shoulder and slamming the door closed.  The hinges made a terrible squealing noise as the door moved.  He really needed to get that fixed.  He quickly jogged back to the shoreline with the cooler bag in his possession, his sandals making scuff marks in the gravel.

He almost died and came back to life when he saw you from behind.

Your clothes were off, your body hugged in a bikini that looked sculpted for you and only you.  The strawberry-print bodice was tied around your neck and below your shoulder blades with thin straps, the front of the suit being held together in the front with a metal ring between the bust.  Your plump breasts peeked over the seams slightly, making blood rush to Ace’s face.  The solid-colored bottoms squeezed your hips and ass perfectly, with one side open and held together with strings in an intricate criss-cross pattern.

Ace’s feet were moving on their own, his soul ascending from his body as he floated toward you.

You heard the rustle of his swim trunks from behind you as you approached, turning to look at him over your shoulder.  “Hey!  All set with the cooler?”

He plopped to his knees on his own towel, the cooler hitting the ground with a thud.  “Yeah, all set…”  His voice trailed off as if he wanted to say something else.

You gazed at him with confusion painting your features.

“You… you look…”  Ace could barely look at you.  “You look so fucking hot… oh my god.”

Suddenly, his demeanor in the car made much more sense.  The constant red flush painting his adorable freckled cheeks, his mouth in a perpetual tongue-tie, his lips pursing together tightly as he struggled to keep his composure.  Your lips pulled into a bright smile, relishing in the flustered behavior of your boyfriend.

“Aww, thank you, baby!” you cooed, moving closer to him.  Your hands trailed down his arm, ghosting over the tattoo on his bicep before teasingly falling to the cooler and unzipping the top, pulling an orange soda out of the bag.

“Please don’t tease me, I think I might explode,” Ace huffed.

You popped open the can with a satisfying click, taking a quick sip from the opening.  “You know… I don’t think anyone’s going to mess with our stuff if you want to go back to the car…”

Ace’s dark eyes darted toward you, assessing the mischievous expression on your face as you kept the cold soda can pressed against your mouth.  The metal was rapidly developing condensation thanks to the heat in the air, droplets of water dripping down the orange can and onto your fingers, plopping against your folded knees.

He carefully removed the soda from your hands, tucking it back into the cooler to make sure it didn’t spill, before standing up and hauling you to your feet, dragging you by your hand across the hot sand and back to the parking lot for a third time.  He ripped his car keys from the pocket of his swim trunks, shoving the metal key into the door lock to open the vehicle before leading you to the trunk and popping open the door.  You quickly clamored inside, him following behind you and closing the trunk from the inside.  He chucked his keys somewhere towards the front of the car.

He wasted absolutely no time in smashing his lips against yours, making you wince slightly at the feeling of his teeth hitting your own, but the way his long fingers expertly groped the skin of your breasts below your bikini top made you forget about the momentary discomfort.

After a few stifling moments, Ace pulled away and heaved into the skin of your neck, holding you down by your shoulders.

The best part about him owning an old, refurbished station wagon was the ample amount of room in the back, as well as the lack of center console between the two front seats.  It was a car built for fucking.

“Is this what you were thinking of on the ride over here?” you asked, a coy tone on your tongue.  “About what my new swimsuit would look like?”

Ace grumbled, a childish pout on his lips as one of his hot hands continued to rub patterns up and down your side.  Up to your breasts, his thumb ghosting over your concealed nipple, trailing down your waist and groping the plush flesh of your belly, down your thigh to squeeze your ass.  The way the strings on the exposed side of your bottom piece fit into your skin made his cock throb.

“You’re insatiable,” you giggled, your own hands leaving scorching patterns over his shoulders and arms.  “Are you ovulating?  You’re acting like me before my period.”

“Shush,” he grumbled, followed by another sweltering kiss, all tongue.  You felt a dribble of spit leave the corner of your mouth, sticking to the skin of your cheek.  His lips moved against yours, exchanging a blistering heat.  Ace always seemed to radiate warmth even on the coldest days, and his presence in this moment filled your body with a heated, lustful buzz.  Goosebumps rose on your skin when he pulled away from you leaving your front exposed, gently biting your puffy lower lip with his teeth.

“How worried are you about someone messing with our things on the beach?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You adjusted yourself slightly below him, his knees beside your hips caging you onto the floor of his trunk.  “Hmm… not too worried.”

“Perfect,” Ace replied swiftly, tugging his swim trunks down.  

He had such a nice cock, perfectly shaped with a cut tip that flushed a beautiful rosy hue.  A slight upward curve, lean and not too long, perfect.  He was either hard for the entire time you were setting up your small spot on the sand and you hadn’t noticed, or he was fighting with every fiber in his body to keep the erection at bay.  Whatever the circumstance, the fantasy of spontaneously fucking you in the trunk of his car in that sexy bikini of yours that he daydreamed about on the drive down was finally coming true.

Your hands made a move down to your hips to pull on the fabric of your bottoms before his fingers wrapped around your wrists, halting your movement.

“Sorry,” he uttered, his voice a soft whisper filled with a desperation you rarely saw from him.  “Your suit stays on.”

Your mouth morphed into a grin as he released you, leaning back up on his knees and idly stroking his cock with his right hand.  You parted your legs for him, making a show of smushing your breasts together under your tight top.  God, your suit could have been molded onto your body, it looked so good.

“Are you going to stay there and jerk off over me, or are you going to share some of the fun?” you asked deviously, one of your hands crawling below your bottoms and teasing your clit with the slick that had built up.  A pleasant, tingling flutter resonated in your belly and floated down your thighs, but nothing was better than the feeling of his fingers and cock doing the work for you.

“I want to do everything to you,” he muttered, releasing his dick from his slow ministrations.  “I don’t even know where to begin.”

You watched as it bobbed in the air, so hard it held itself out away from Ace’s toned stomach.  You involuntarily licked your lips at the sight.  “You’re so pretty…” you muttered.  You took it upon yourself to sit up, gently pushing against Ace’s shoulders to get him to sit on the trunk floor on his ass, leaning against him further to get the hint to lay down in the position you had just been in.

Neither of you had a strictly dominating or strictly submissive attitude.  Rather, you mutually shared the moment, taking charge when you wanted and snatching the lead away whenever you pleased.  This was one of those moments as you rotated your body on top of his, moving your ass closer to his face as one of your hands ghosted along his hip bone, your other arm supporting you and keeping you upright.

Ace got the hint almost immediately, his greedy hands groping and squeezing your ass as he pulled you downward to rest your clothed cunt against his mouth.  The hotness of his breath and the feeling of his lips against your weeping pussy concealed by the polyester made your breath hitch as your lips traveled closer and closer to the tip of his dick, watching hungrily as it seemed to pulse in the air, desperate for attention.

Your boyfriend made the first move, pulling you down by your hips and resting your cunt over his mouth, his tongue forcing its way between your folds through the suit and quickly finding your clit.  You gasped, your arm shaking somewhat as you quickly followed his lead, wasting no time in taking his cock into your hot, ready mouth.  

And goodness, did he taste good.  A familiar slightly salty musk partnered with the residual scent of his daily body spray, a vanilla and cedar flavor that always made your heart flutter in your chest.  His cock might as well have been burning as you hollowed out your lips and took him further down your mouth, loving the way the organ pulsed against your tongue.  

On the other end, Ace’s fingers had found their way into the fabric of your bathing suit, holding the barrier aside as two of his digits spread your natural slick over your cunt and lubricated his skin before he pressed them into your pussy, addicted to the way your muscles constricted around him.  Your entrance was always on the tighter side no matter how many times you fucked, and it was absolute heaven for him.  He turned the pads of his two fingers forward, pushing gently against the roof of your vagina where he knew you were acutely sensitive, and smirked to himself when your thighs clenched around his head.  Your movements over his cock momentarily stuttered at the feeling of his thumb connecting with your clit to simultaneously stroke the needy bud while passionately fingering your pussy.

He knew you too well.  He knew what you needed.  Ace wasn’t a selfish lover, he had learned your quirks and needs very early on in your relationship.  You loved your clit rubbed in somewhat slow circles, alternating between various pressures.  You responded to his fingers against your g-spot, and you loved when his dick curled upward into the same area.  Not too deep so as to hit your cervix, which hurt you quite a bit, but deep enough to reach those sensitive areas that had your legs shaking.

You learned quickly too, however.  Ace’s tip was the most sensitive part of him, his breaths growing shallow when you delicately sucked your lips around it and trailed your tongue along the slit, collecting the small amount of salty precum that emerged from the tip.  He loved it when you gently fondled his balls, rubbing the wrinkled skin between the pads of your fingers.  He adored the inside of his thighs being caressed, and you tried your best to do both with one hand as the other trembling appendage fought to support your weight as you continued to blow him.

You popped off of his cock momentarily, stroking the base with your hand.  “Did you have fruit recently?” you asked, turning your head somewhat to look over your shoulder.  Not like you could see much.

Ace paused his motions against your pussy.  “... Maybe.”

You grinned, the usually salty, bitter taste of his essence now replaced with something slightly sweeter.  You wanted to egg him on, to ask him if he had planned for this to happen and eaten some pineapple or citrus with his breakfast in preparation, but you decided to keep your inquiries to yourself and return to your task of sucking him off.

Ace was content to keep fingering you, his current position in between your thighs a bit too difficult to involve his tongue, but he knew he could please you regardless.  The circular movements of his calloused thumb against your throbbing clit had you sucking in sharp, lustful breaths through your nose, small whimpers leaving your throat and vibrating down his shaft making him bite his lip and stifle a wheeze.  Your thighs were quivering as he continued to curl his fingers into your g-spot, following the rhythm of your lips around his cock.

After some moments, however, you quickly scrambled off of him, your hand clutching around your stomach as you pivoted above him, capturing his lips in yours.  You ground your clothed cunt over his pulsing cock, keeping it locked between your pussy and his toned abdomen.

“Now who’s the desperate one?” he asked, teasingly, his signature boyish smirk traveling right back to your clit.

“I can’t help it, you’re contagious,” you huffed against the skin of his cheek.

Usually, the two of you used lube.  It didn’t matter how wet you got thanks to foreplay, the sensations were always heightened when there was no risk of chafing.  But clearly, you didn’t have that luxury today.  Nor did you have any condoms.  Instead, you bit down your thoughts, reserved yourself to spending 70 beri on the morning-after pill later that day, and hovered over his cock.  You pulled your swimsuit to the side and took his dick in your hands, wasting no time in slipping it through your folds that were thoroughly drenched thanks to Ace’s expert fingers.  

The first insertion always hurt somewhat.  A slight, red-hot throbbing pain that radiated through your pelvis, followed by a pleasant pressure as his cock slowly intruded into your tight muscle.  The groan that radiated from Ace’s throat made your pussy flutter.  

That was another thing you loved about him.  He was loud.

Maybe on a normal day you’d be worried about someone hearing you, or seeing the way his car shook with the force of your collective moments, but both of you had succumbed to desperation and couldn’t care less.  Traumatize the elderly beach goers who might happen to walk through the gravel parking lot to their own cars.

You sunk fully down onto Ace’s hips, his dick perfectly nestled inside your wet and willing pussy as his hands tightly gripped your hips through your suit bottoms.  You slowly rocked your hips, desperate for some extra friction against your clit.  It was much harder with the fabric covering you, but eventually you found a movement that felt just right.  Edging your hips slightly forward, you rolled your pelvis against his, dragging your clothed slit over the taught skin of his lower abdomen, moaning at the feeling of his dick pulsing within you.

Maybe you really didn’t have to worry about lube today.  Every motion against the walls of your vagina had you biting your lip and arching your back over him.

Ace’s hands assisted with bouncing you on his cock, his voice slowly increasing in volume as he watched you through half-lidded as your breasts jiggled with each movement, how the fat of your belly and thighs rippled so deliciously as you gyrated above him.  His voice was delectable, gruff and whiny, higher-pitched than usual with stuttering breaths and hitches in his throat that had your heart beating a mile a minute.

Your legs were growing tired, and Ace could tell.  He wordlessly beckoned you off of him, being quick to lean you over the back seats and move your suit to the side again, slipping his cock back in between your folds.  This angle always fit the both of you.  As much as Ace loved it when you rode him, taking you from behind came with many more benefits.  His free hand could travel down to dip beneath the cloth of your swimsuit and rub those delicious circles against your clit while simultaneously thrusting his desperate hips against your ass.  His chest pressed into your shoulder blades, his free hand supporting him against the back of the seats as you held onto the leather for dear life, whining with each motion of his cock against your inner walls and his calloused fingers against your clit.

It didn’t take long for you to unravel, the feeling of his rough finger pads against your desperate nub too much to bear.  Your orgasm approached slowly at first, filling your stomach with warmth, the insides of your eyelids flashing purple and indigo, before your body snapped and you were shuddering against Ace, moaning out loud as your pussy involuntarily clenched around his cock, your cunt feeling feather light as it fluttered.  The force of your orgasm caused you to gyrate your hips back against his, weak, airy moans escaping your tongue as the red-hot pleasure radiated through your entire body leaving your pussy buzzing with the aftershocks.

Ace was barely holding it together.  The force of your orgasm causing your pussy to clench around his cock had his arms weakening against the seat, his hips frantically rutting into you as sultry moans left his lips at the feeling of his cock burning inside you, begging for satisfaction.  His fingers never stopped rubbing your clit, caught up in what had essentially become second nature for him.  The overstimulation had you twitching around him, shallow breaths heaving from your lungs.  Ace’s pace increased as did the stuttering of his hips, his thrusts growing more shallow as his own orgasm approached.

“A-Ace… fuck, baby…” you whined, dropping your forehead against the back of the seat.  “You’re gonna make me cum again…”

The man was too caught up in the throes of pleasure.  Calling him desperate earlier was clearly an understatement.  A loud, throaty groan reverberated from his lips as his hips rapidly drilled into you, forcing you against the back of the seat.  His shallow breaths only helped to fuel your second orgasm that rocked you with a sudden wash of white light behind your eyes and you were shuddering against him again, your own moans filling the stifling air of the car.  

Ace barely had time to call out your name before he was thrusting disjointedly into you, crackled, weary moans leaving his lips as he came into your sore cunt, his hands pressing down onto your lower back to keep you still as he buried his cock into you, soaking you more than you already were.  You felt him pull out of you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as the sound of him falling backwards against the closed door of his trunk filled your ears.

Your own spent body dropped to the side, sitting on your hip and barely holding yourself up with one hand.  You slowly picked your head up, gazing at your boyfriend and assessing his condition.

Black hair mussed beyond belief, his freckled cheeks and shoulders flushed with a delicate red hue, his lips wet and swollen parted with the force of his labored breathing.  His eyes were closed, jaw slack as his pelvis continued to twitch from the force of his orgasm.  A few last drops of cum were bubbling from his tip, slowly dripping down his drenched dick that almost glistened, covered in your own fluids.  You felt wet between your legs.  It would have been a nice feeling if you weren’t already so stifling, your entire body feeling sticky.  You finally noticed the way the windows had fogged up.  You didn’t have time to think about carbon dioxide toxicity before Ace’s weary hand traveled up to the back window of his trunk door, blindly popping the window open a crack to let some fresh air flow into the car.  The summer heat felt oddly cool against your sweaty skin.

You slowly crawled closer to Ace, ignoring the way your drenched cunt sat uncomfortably inside your bathing suit.  You combed a damp strand of black hair off of his forehead before delicately pressing your lips against his cheek, encouraging him to finally open his eyes.

“You alright?” you asked, your voice low and quiet.

He finally smiled, his narrow, dark eyes filling your chest with warmth.  “I think my heart almost stopped.”

You giggled, running your sweaty hand up and down his skin.  “Should I wear bathing suits around you more often?  I don’t think you’ve ever fucked me like that.”

Your boyfriend’s humble laughter made you grin.  “For the sake of my health, you probably shouldn’t.”  He finally leaned forward to press a tender kiss against your wet lips.  “Though, if I were to die fucking you in a bikini, I’d die a very, very happy man.”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

The Profound Pleasure of Little Things

Hozier x reader

Author's note: Basically the thought was, "ohh, what if there was a real moment that inspired Wasteland!baby."

Summary: Andrew and Y/n spend an afternoon at the beach.

Warnings - poorly written fluff, I guess.

"I think if the world ended right now, I'd be alright with that.”

After spending the past fifteen minutes or so bearing witness to her magnificence. Ireland's solem grey sky meeting the frigid, green water and acting as a cool toned backdrop to the brightness of her beauty. The way those deep, blue jeans hug her curves, the woolen burgundy coat, draped over a band tee, that follows the contour of her frame and her hair tumbling over her shoulders as she stands a few feet off the edge, gaze cast out towards the horizon; as if the world below them had been thought up just for her.

As Y/n turns to face him, the wind whips her hair forward, and he smiles when she hastily brushes away from her eyes. “What?” She chortles, but there's an air of disbelief in the word and she tilts her head a little to the side, “why?”

Licking his lips, Andrew pushes off the boulder he's been perched on, one converse-clad foot planted on the ground while the other stayed propped on a smaller rock jutting from the lush grass. “Because,” he stuffs his hands into the side pockets of the denim jacket he's thrown over his red flannel, “I've seen you, standing here and that's gotta be the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

Y/n rolls her eyes; he's awfully romantic when he doesn't mean to be – and mind-bogglingly terrible at it when he actively tries. Just that morning he'd clumsily danced them into the kitchen table after daring more than their usual sway. But now, after a long afternoon drive and an impromptu hike up a hill that overlooks the sea, he's stringing together the sort of lines that make her cheeks go warm and stirs a flutter in her chest. “You're being dramatic,” she teases, relinquishing her hand when he reaches for it. Their fingers lace with ease; it's something they're so used to doing that Y/n rarely thinks much of it anymore. It's such a small, mundane thing and his hands have become so familiar to her that they almost feel like her own – and like she'd miss her own hand if it were gone forever, she'd miss his too.

He is a part of her; as vital as a limb, or the thing beating in her chest.

“Hardly,” his thumb ghosts the soft skin over her knuckles, and his eyes soften when they meet hers. It still startles him that she's his, and standing there with the smell of salt, autumn and her perfume flooding his senses, Andrew fears he might be dreaming, “you look…..” Like a painting, something that one could only wish to be privileged enough to see, let alone touch, “exquisite.”

Y/n giggles before glancing down at herself. She knows she must look plain at best, and a wind-tousled mess at worst. Even if she isn't the self-deprecating type, it's tough to believe that she looks like anything special without makeup, her hair free-styled by the breeze and her face nipped by the chill. The coat that she's owned for nearly a decade and a faded t-shirt probably isn't helping her case either. “Are you trying to get laid on this hilltop?” She asks conspiringly.

Snaking his free arm around her waist, Andrew simultaneously pulls Y/n closer and throws his head back in laughter. Lifting her gaze to drink him in, Y/n’s smile softens; she loves the way he looks when he laughs like that. Entirely carefree, as if he mightn’t have anything in the world to worry about, its a laugh she sees most off when he’s been home for a while and he isn’t concerned about deadlines and appearances, or when they have friends over and he’s had a bit too much to drink. Or when she says something that is a little absurd, but not quite funny, and he somehow finds the world of humor in it.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed,” his fingers curl into her waist. Then, when the shaking of his shoulders settle, he lowers his eyes to meet hers. It always baffles him how she could not know – not completely – what she does to him. Because if she did, Y/n wouldn’t doubt his credibility for a second when he says that she’s beautiful – and utterly in awe of everything that she is. “But I really do think that you look lovely darling,” he adds softly, freeing his hand from hers to gently cup her face, “if you saw what I did, you’d understand. If you could see yourself through my eyes…….thought of yourself with my mind, you would get to know the most breathtaking person I've ever met.”

Licking her lips, Y/n lays her hands on his chest, thumb grazing the sliver of skin left exposed by the undone top button of his shirt. “How do you do that?” She muses quietly, gazing up at him.

Andrew's thumb roves the apple of her cheek and she leans into his touch, “Do what?” He lowers his head a little, so their foreheads are that much closer to touching.

“Come up with…..stuff,” she hates the word in the context, “like that.”

“Well, it would just so happen, that I have the best muse,” because every beautiful thing he can think of is tangled up with the thought of her. He can’t see flowers without wondering how they’d look if they were laced in her hair, or held in her hands, he sees art and wonders if she’d like it too and when he’s faced with a day like this one – where everything seems to be in perfect measure – all Andrew wants to do is share it with her.

“I am just so in love with you,” he rasps, the sudden drop in his voice sending a shiver up her spine, “that it touches every part me, everything I do has a bit of you in it,” as if all the old parts of himself have been shed, giving way to something new, improved in a way that only be because of her presence.

The more Andrew thinks about the clearer one certainty becomes; in a way, the world has already ended. It happened the second he fell in love with her. Everything as he knew it was changed forever – reduced to a wasteland, and out from the ashes she came.

Lifting one of her hands, Y/n caresses his temple with the pad of her thumb. “What a beautiful mind you have,” she muses, gaze matching his. Y/n always faults him for having a way with his words, usually when he doesn't even mean to, but Andrew doesn't think she ever pays enough mind to what she's saying. “Who needs the rest of the world when they have this?”

His thumb continues stroking her cheek in that languid, gentle fashion and Andrew’s gaze softens so much that he thinks he must be melting under her touch. He must be putty in her hands – so easy to mold however she pleases, because the only thing he wants more than being with her is being exactly what Y/n needs.

May he always be a necessity, may her life be just a touch emptier without him, so she’ll keep him around.

“Who needs it, darling?” Who needs it when the best of it smiles when she looks at me? He’s just about to press his lips to hers in a kiss he’s been aching to steal since the moment she turned to look at him, when a wave – way down below – breaks so violently that a few droplets hit their faces, causing Y/n to shift her gaze towards the expanse of glacial teal.

“We should walk down to the beach,” she suggests suddenly, eyes alight with the wonder of someone yearning for the thrill of adventure. In an instant, Y/n is backing out of his embrace – like a dream just past his immediate reach. She takes his hand though, lacing her smaller, finer fingers with his and practically tugs him along, urging him towards the mouth of the stoney, sloped pathway that leads to the beach.

“Yeah, sure-” Andrew doesn’t even get to reply before he’s stumbling along, blindly following her. He isn’t even sure if she actually knows the way – he’s never taken her there, but Y/n is quick-witted enough to figure things out without anyone’s help. As he watches her trot ahead with purpose, feet clad in Chuck Taylor's stomping on the feathery grass as she moves ahead, Andrew keeps his gaze fixed on her. The way she holds her head up, as if she doesn’t need a map – or even him – to show her the way. The way the wind blows her hair and her delicate fingers work to keep them away from her eyes. She’s moving so quickly that its hard to take it all in, and Andrew finds himself wanting to ask her to slow down, so he can soak up the way she looks against the blur of the trees.

Sometimes, he wants to tell her – beg her – to just be a bit more still. Because while he adores watching her move, drinking in every miniscule action that is so specific to her, Andrew breathes for the moments where there isn’t the slightest quiver in her form. When his view of her is entirely unhampered by the demands of life; she doesn’t have to get up to answer her phone, or check on the laundry downstairs – when she’s just lounging in bed with her glasses propped on the bridge of her nose and a book held up in front of her face, when she’s sitting on the back patio while nursing an afternoon tea, watching the birds entertain each other.

When Y/n is standing before him, surrounded by a tapestry of greens and blues and other specks of colour that pale in her wake, like something he should never be so privileged to bare witness to.

His thoughts are interrupted when she stumbles on a rock and instinctively deserts her hand in favor of reaching for her hips. “Slow down,” he chuckles, reeling her close to his chest, one arm wrapping around her middle as they continue downward.

“But I wanna see the beach,” she protests with a giggle as his lips find her cheek. Reaching past herself, she lays her hand on his neck, holding his face close to hers for a few seconds longer.

“And you will,” Andrew mumbles, mouth still pressed up to her face, “but lets……enjoy the getting there too.”

“I think you’re enjoying it a little too much,” Y/n admonishes humorously when Andrew squeezes her to him.

“Impossible,” he bends his head to nuzzle the side of her face, “I actually think you’re not enjoying this enough.”

“Yeah?” She leans into his embrace, hand falling onto his forearm as she finally relents to stopping for a moment. She can hear the sounds of the sea a bit more clearly now, and the air is saltier than it had been when they were up on the hill. Through the foliage, Y/n spots bits of jewel toned ripples, a tell-tale sign that they aren’t too far off, and she’s actively holding herself back from urging him ahead. She does have a habit of rushing things, sometimes the need to just keep moving is almost overwhelming; she’s so focused on getting somewhere that she forgets the journey is half the experience.

Andrew, she often finds, is entirely the opposite. It's a quality she admires in him; his ability to revel in simple joys, the way he’s able to steady himself enough to thoroughly take everything in. While she’s eager to brush past everything in her way to get to her finish line, he’s perfectly fine with strolling through the trees, stopping ever so often to take pictures of things that interest him, or rattle off a random fact that he learned in a nature documentary.

“Yes,” Andrew hisses, kissing the corner of her lips, “just relax a little.”

“I’m very relaxed,” Y/n scoffed defensively, “we just have different definitions of that word.”

Andrew laughs loudly, finally letting her go and allowing her to take his hand again, “I’m not even sure that word is in your dictionary,” he chortles as she tows him along. Y/n doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even know if she hears him, because as the words leave his mouth, they reach the edge of the woods which opens up to the small beach. The sand is soft under his shoes, and the sting of salty air is sharp. “Happy now?” He teases when she lets his hand go in favor of going a few paces ahead.

“I was always happy,” Y/n corrects, “but now I'm…..satisfied.”

“If satisfaction is what you were looking for, I could've helped with that up there,” he nudges his head towards the top of the hill they’d been standing on about fifteen minutes earlier.

Y/n rolls her eyes as she turns to look at him, “oh shut up,” she giggles.

“Just sayin’,” he hums, moving to stand beside her, arm going around her shoulders. Immediately, Y/n tilts her head so its touching his side.

As she keeps her eyes trained forward, Y/n hums, “its so beautiful.”

Andrew returns the sound, albeit just a bit softer as he turns his head to look down at her, nestled against him. Its hard to describe just how much he enjoys the feeling of her tucked against him, its one of those simple pleasures that he never fails to appreciate; the way her form fits perfectly with his, like they were made to just click together. It's such a small thing; the comfort that comes with holding someone who wouldn’t trade the feeling of your arms around them for anything else in the world, and he can never seem to get enough of it. He lives for the way throwing his arm around her shoulder has become as natural to him as breathing, and how instinctive it is when she leans against him.

“Don’t you think so?” Y/n glances up at him, a smile dusting her cheeks when their eyes meet. There's always a little tingle that prods at her heart when she finds him looking at her, like the beat of butterfly wings against the petal of a flower.

Licking his lips, he glances forward at the ocean stretched out before then, and the near vacant beach that spreads out for at least a mile on either side.

He must’ve seen this beach near a hundred times by now. Andrew is well aquainted with the way the waves break against the collection of jagged rocks piled against once side of the shore, foam washing the salt-worn gray and seeping into the crevices. The crunch of pebbles and broken seashells under his boot isn’t foreign to him, and he knows all too well how frigid those waters can be around this time of the year. He’s seen the beauty of the place, he swears he’s done his best to appreciate it too, but there’s something different about holding her as the water pulls the sand seaward and salty sprinkles dust their lips. It feels like he’s seeing for the first time all over again.

And he loves it – all of it. The way it feels like a film has been peeled off his eyes, the thrill of enjoying the simplest things so much more than he ever has because he's sharing the moment with her.

“Yeah,” he looks at her again, lowering his head to touch the tips of their noses, “its beautiful, baby.”

[cinnamon-galaxies]

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲

(human!Alastor x f!reader drabble)

Masterlist

Some poetic and reminiscing thoughts from (human) Alastor about his darling-doe. This is unlike anything I've written before. Honestly, I’m not even sure what this is. I wrote it a while ago when I was severely sleep-deprived.

I know he's no longer human in this, but he's telling us about a time when he still was. That's why I tagged it as human!Alastor.

CW: Possessive thoughts, mention of murder and manipulation

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

I remember the day I first saw you so clearly as if it didn’t happen almost a hundred years ago – back then, when we were still human, nothing but mere people made of flesh and bone, born to live, and living to die. Oh, what a beautiful sight you were, so beautiful – the most beautiful creature of them all. Not only your face resembled the image of a goddess, but your soul shone so bright it made even the darkest of times turn day. You were a true angel sent from heaven, a kind soul and oh so fragile. Glancing into those beautiful doe eyes of yours made me want to ruin you. To take you with me, poison your every being and make you mine – and mine only.

It feels as if it was yesterday that you introduced yourself to me. That radiant smile on your lips, those long lashes framing those shining eyes like they’re the most valuable painting in this world, and I've lost myself in you. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before. Things, I didn’t even consider I was able to feel – because I never felt them before. I've heard those tales. Even read those tales about unconditional love. About how the heartbeat increases whenever you’re close to the one you desire. About how much you crave their touch, their voice, their love – completely and utterly devoted to the one person in this world. One out of billions of people. But I never dared to think I would ever feel the same. Did I feel the same? I was obsessed with you; wanted to possess you in every way possible. And when those full lips of yours parted and your angelic voice entered my ears for the first time, you already had it all. And I knew I wanted you to be mine – and mine only.

Were you fascinated by me? Oh, you were. I saw it on your face. In the tiniest details that betrayed your overly polite expression that you so strongly tried to keep professional. I saw that you were intrigued the very moment you laid your eyes on me. It was like fate had sent you to me. Like my mother in heaven twisted all the odds in my favor, just so I could meet you. Oh, the way you smiled at me. The way you looked at me. How your voice slightly raised when you spoke directly to me. It made my heart flutter and it filled me with an emotion I never thought to ever be able to feel my whole life. And I wanted you to be mine – and mine only.

We met again, after that night. More often than appropriate. In parks, at the bank of the Mississippi, at professional events and at a restaurant I so carefully chose. One that I knew would only serve the best of New Orleans’ cuisine. To make you acquainted with my home and my culture. To prepare you to be on my side. I saw you once, I saw you twice. I saw you an umpteenth times. And yet I was waiting for the perfect moment to ruin you – to make you mine – and mine only.

Were you as corrupted as I? Were you – beside your angel-like nature – capable to make the change, to become one like me, and sacrifice your very being to the darkness of twisted human nature? The desire to kill, the desire to hunt with you grew with every passing day. Day to day I've been waiting for the moment. For the perfect opportunity to make you see my true nature. To make you see my grim twisted morality, to make you see my darkest of secrets, to make you accept it with a smile, to make you succumb to your own darkness, to make you fall, to make you mine – and mine only.

The night we first shared a kiss felt like a dream. An oh so beautiful, yet so tragic dream – because I knew that once your lips touched mine, everything between us would change forever. I remember how you stood before me, much like the day we met, though that angelic smile of yours was replaced by a warmth that exceeded every ounce of adoration you gifted to me before. And then you leaned in, and we kissed. That feeling of your soft lips against mine wasn’t anything like I imagined before. It was so much more, an overwhelming explosion of fireworks. Oh, the hunger that roared on my inside, the need to pull you closer and take everything of you – in this very moment – was unbearable. But I waited. Because at this moment I already knew you were mine – and mine only.

Oh, you were my darling.

My darling-doe.

My angel.

My everything.

And now, I will make you fall.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

[grudgecollector]

God Help The Fool

Pairing: Bo Sinclair / Reader

Summary: Even as a long time residence of Ambrose, you could have barely prepared yourself for what would happen tonight. Your curiosity pulling you closer and closer to the front door, to your doom.

Words: 827

Tags/Warnings: Blood, attempted murder, light descriptions of gore, descriptions of stabbing, Bo's anger

A/N: Um hello... It's been quite a while since I've written any sort of fan fiction in like two years probably, so I apologize if this isn't very good LOL

I have recently been hit with inspiration to write again. I've realized I really miss it.

In the future some of my fics may be a little more centered around Creep and Josef, but I did rewatch House of Wax for the first time in a while last night and it just makes me AGH

I'm not entirely sure how active I will be, but I'm hoping to revitalize this blog and make it into a home for me and anyone who has similar interests once again.

Your ears ring, fingers tightening around the handle as you dig the knife deeper into the flesh of your sudden victim. Your eyes burn, tears threatening to drip down your bruised cheek. A cloudy puff of air comes from your parted lips, the cold winter wind biting into your skin. 

Dark green eyes were staring into your own with both rage and fear, his hands closing harder around your neck as he continued to try and strangle you. The air was being snuffed from your lungs, a fire building up in your chest as you struggled under his strength. 

It felt as if your neck would snap, the way the heel of his hand dug into your windpipe. 

You twisted the knife further into his torso, making him groan in pain. Whatever strength you had left you used, attempting to wiggle the knife around like a joystick on a jammed arcade machine. 

In this moment you felt like you could accept death. Whatever sins you have committed in your life have finally caught up in one foul game of cat and mouse. No matter how hard you tried to fight him off he stayed glued in his place, bloody spit coming to his lips before dripping onto your nose, down to your cheek. 

You heard a warped voice yell above you, it sounded so close yet so far away.

There was a sudden release of pressure around your throat, a harsh breath of cold air filling your burning lungs. You let out a wheezing cough, clutching your chest with a bloody hand as you attempt to suck in more air. 

The ringing in your ears never stopped, your head was spinning, you felt like you would throw up any second. 

Bright white dots blurred your vision, making it impossible to know which way you crawled.

In some way you believed you would be safe from the chaos that occasionally reigned through the quiet, empty town of Ambrose. No matter how much you have seen or heard during your time living here. 

It was tonight that your naivety finally caught up to you. A simple look out the front door ending in you almost dying. 

You should have listened to Bo when you told you to stay upstairs, you should have listened to Vincent when he told you not to move from the closet minutes later, and most of all you should have listened to Lester when he told you to not let curiosity get the best of you. 

There was a tingling sensation on the side of your face, numbness prickling your skin. 

Slowly, your eyes open to see Bo’s fiery ones, his forehead creasing in worry as he lightly caresses the skin around your throat. 

You knew he was angry with you, you could feel it radiating off of him as he stared down at you, chest heaving.

He grabbed your tired arms and hauled you to your feet, making you stumble forward into his chest, where you clutched onto his black button-up weakly. 

“I-” You attempted to choke out an apology, but your throat felt like sandpaper, forcing a cough from you once again. 

“Not now.” Was all he managed to say, his rage bubbling as he glanced over towards the now mangled corpse of the man. 

Bo could barely contain his blood lust in normal circumstances, but when he saw you on the ground like that? It was like something else entirely took him over. 

He wasn’t sure if it was the dominance inside him, watching as some stranger hurt what belonged to him, or if deep down it was the fear of losing something he loves. 

Either way, the younger man did not stand a chance against a seasoned killer such as Bo Sinclair. The wrench the older man wielded now lodged into the broken skull of your attacker, a now unusable body for Vincent’s evergrowing gallery of wax figures. 

Bo could not find it in him to care though, he knew a replacement would be lured in eventually. 

He slammed open the front door of the house, making his way to the kitchen towards his twin who had probably just come out from his studio. 

“Vincent! Take her, there’s still another out there somewhere.” Bo practically shoved you into his twin’s arms, “And do not let her out of your fucking sight.” His darkened eyes glared at you, something vulnerable swirling deep inside. 

You didn’t take his harsh tone to heart, having been with Bo for as long as you have, you have dealt with his outbursts before.

This felt different, though, while his anger was evident, the thing that stuck out to you more was the wetness in his eyes. 

His eyes did not linger on you for very long, his heavy boots stomping back towards the front door. The harsh closure of the door made the walls rattle, some small things falling from the shelves hung up on the walls. 

[selfindulgentpixies]

Blood upon the snow: chapter 1

Vampire!Gojo x gn!reader

You read that right folks, it's finally here. Or part of it is anyway. I decided to split my vampire Gojo fic into several parts just because feed back really helps me stay inspired and I'm not sure how long this potential beast of a fic will take me to finish otherwise in all honesty. I've put a lot of work into this fic so far. probably one of the most refined things i've written.

CW: canon typical violence, blood drinking (you know vampire stuff),GN!Afab!reader, reader isn't a blank slate but I still hope you will enjoy putting yourself in their shoes, reader is a hunter(the normal kind), Sukuna is here and he's his own warning. Potential for vampire politics in a future parts if i'm feeling crazy, past satosugu (what you thought i'd be able to leave suguru out of this?)

4.2k

It had been years since it happened but you’d never forget it. The winter had been a particularly harsh one and you’d heard the adults talking about bandit attacks being on the rise due to scarcity. Your mother had soothed you and told you nothing would happen though. That you'd get safely from one city to the next. She’d been wrong. 

A merchant caravan was far too tempting a target with all the potential goods on board. From the food to all the valuables carried within. You’d been asleep when it happened, curled up safely in your mother’s lap the both of you wrapped in warm furs and being gently rocked by the movements of the carriage. You were meant to make it to the next major settlement by noon the next day. But right now the moon hung high in the sky, bright enough to to be seen through the thin cloud cover. The world outside was all shimmering shades of blue and white under the winter moon’s silver gaze. 

The silence of the snow muffled night is cut sharply by a scream followed by a loud crack of splintering wood echoing through the air, likely from the back of the caravan. You wake groggily in your mother’s arms, dazed and confused as she sets you down on the seat so she can look out one of the carriage’s windows toward the front where your father was at the reins. A wet thump, followed by a scream from your mother. More screams, seemingly from all around, cries from adults scrambling to issue orders. Then your carriage veers, the horses startled by the chaos.

 You’re knocked from your seat, tiny body tumbling across the carriage when something suddenly rams into its side, sending it over and off the path. The world goes dark, you’re not sure for how long. When you come to the caravan isn’t immediately in sight though the screams seem to echo all around you. When you finally catch sight of an orange glow in the distance your eyes are able to focus on something much closer as well. A dark shape lying in the snow, red slowly spreading around it. No. Not it. Her. Your mother. There’s several figures in the distance backlit by the distant chaos approaching but you can’t tear your wide eyes from your mother. You begin to crawl toward her when her eyes suddenly fixate on you. “Run.” You freeze. With more strength she speaks again. “Run.” The figures in the distance grow closer. “I said RUN.” 

You stumble up to your feet then. A step backward. 

“RUN”

And you do. Turning on your heel to stumble through the forest. You hear shouting then but you don’t listen to it. Can’t listen to it because you need to listen to your mother. Her face in that moment seared into your mind. Cold air burns through your throat and lungs as you push yourself to run. To where you had no idea. You didn’t know these woods. You’re quick though, like a little rabbit, running with fur boot clad feet you barely sink into the snow at all while your pursuers stumble and sink through the deep drifts of snow. Too heavy to be supported by the shimmering shell that is the snow’s top layer.

You keep running long after you stop hearing their crashing footsteps and shouts. You keep running until you can’t. You collapse, coughing, lungs burning from the effort and cold. You curl into a ball right there beneath the canopy of pines. You’re not sure how long you lie there, but eventually somehow silent and without sinking into the snow at all a pair of boots appear in your line of sight. You weakly turn your face to look up, your lashes and cheeks decorated with jewels made of frozen tears

A person.. Are they really a person, they seem too beautiful to be a person, it’s as if the moon took human form and came to earth. They kneel down in front of you, expression solemn as they reach out to brush away some of the frozen tears before cupping your tiny face in their large hands. Their hands are nearly as cold as the snow you’re laying upon. All you’re really focused on now though are their bright blue eyes, not just bright but glowing. You attempt to speak but no sound comes out of your raw throat. 

“Shhh… Don’t try to speak.” The voice is deep yet melodic, you think it might be soothing if you weren’t so numb. The deepness of the voice at least makes you think they’re a man of some kind even if not a human one. He picks you up and bundles you into his coat. You gaze up at him as he carries you, where to, you have no idea but you can’t seem to care in your current state, so instead you gaze up at him. His eyelashes like the snowflakes that fall around you as they dust over his cheeks with each blink. 

You’re apparently not the best listener  because you weakly croak out a question. “Are you an angel? Did I die..?”

He pauses mid stride and glances down at you, crystalline eyes wide. Then he laughs, the action jostling you against his chest. “Now that’s a new one.” He adjusts his hold on you and continues. “You don’t need to worry about what I am and no you didn’t die.” His solemn expression has been replaced with a soft one. Lips gently curving at least for a moment and gaze soft before he looks ahead. “No more talking from you, you need your rest.” 

You don’t need to be told again as your eyelids feel heavy. The exhaustion from before settling over you like a blanket, wrapped in this strange man’s coat and being gently rocked by his steps you drift off. 

__

You stare up at the ceiling of your small room, blinking away sleep. It’s been years since that night and yet you still dream of it. You roll from your cot, immediately stuffing your feet into a pair of slippers. It was beginning to get cold out, the chill always bringing with it the dreams. Not that it was winter yet. Instead of a world dusted in white the world outside was a fiery palette of reds, oranges and yellows. 

You wander your way to the small kitchen where your grandmother sits with a cup of tea clutched between her weathered fingers. “You slept in.” It’s simply an observation not an accusation. “That’s not like you. Normally you’re up before the sun, not well after it.” 

You reach for the pot of tea and pour yourself a cup, happy to cradle the warmth in your hands. You hum. “And yet you didn’t come to wake me.” 

Your grandmother hums in turn then, it was a response you picked up from her after all. “Of course not. You need to get more rest or you’ll burn yourself out. You’ve spent nearly everyday in the woods either hunting or gathering other supplies.” 

“I need to make sure we’re both taken care of. It’s predicted to be a harsh winter. This fall has already been particularly cold.” You blow on your tea and sit across from your grandmother. 

“We already have more than enough smoked and dried meats to get through the winter.”

“And the extra can go around to others in the village who need it in that case. If not that I can take it to trade in the larger towns for other supplies we might need. You know, like your medicine. OW!” You yelp as she gives your leg a thwack under the table with her cane.

“Watch your tone,” She replies, both hands returning to her cup to raise it to her lips for another sip. “And stop worrying so much about me. I’m more than capable of taking care of myself still.” 

You grumble and rub at your leg. “Stubborn old bat…” you mumble beneath your breath. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing~” You sip at your tea as she narrows her eyes at you. 

Before she’s able to say anything more there’s a knock at the door, drawing both of your attention. “Expecting someone today?” You ask her as you begin to get up and go to the door. 

“Not at all.”

 Not that it was abnormal for people to stop by for any number of reasons in a village like this. What wasn’t normal was when you looked through the peephole and saw one of the lead elders had stopped by your home unannounced. You open the door quickly and step to the side so your grandmother can see who it is. 

“Now to what do I owe the visit, Gakuganji? The elders council isn’t meant to gather until the end of the week.” Your grandmother was technically on the council though she was the current youngest member to be welcomed on. Meanwhile she’s said before that she remembers Gakuganji being old already while she was young.  Honestly you can’t imagine this fossil ever being young anyway.  

“There’s an urgent matter that I need to discuss with you.” He says to your grandmother while his eyes flick pointedly toward you. 

You raise your hands in mock defeat. “Alright alright I’ll make myself scarce. Just give me a minute to get properly changed, old man.” This earns you a glare from Gakuganji and a snort from your grandmother as you head back to your room. Soon enough you’re dressed and heading out the door, grabbing your bow and quiver as you go. Your hunting knife already secured to a belt at your waist. Admittedly you’re curious about what could be so urgent that it would bring Gakuganji here, especially when as your grandmother had said there was to be a regularly scheduled meeting of the elders from the various villages at the end of the week. 

You stretch and breathe in the crisp air. Glancing toward the sky you realize just how late you actually had slept in and feel a bit mortified. Your grandmother had really let you sleep in well past noon. You grumble and go to bundle up one of your kills from the previous day onto the back of your horse to bring to the city to sell. You really did need to go and get more medicine for your grandmother anyway. 

__ 

It’s grown dark once you’re on your way home. The days grow shorter and shorter giving way to long nights. You didn’t mind it much. There was a certain peace that came with it, though while on the roads  you didn’t allow yourself a false sense of security. It’s why even when you weren’t hunting you always had your knife and bow. It’s a habit that’s saved your life on more than one occasion, both from creatures of the night and simple brigands who think you’d make an easy target. 

Something is wrong tonight. You feel it in the air. Everything is too quiet and when the forest is quiet it often means something dangerous is around. You pet your horse’s neck, aiming to soothe it. That’s when not far ahead you see a figure on the road. You slide your bow off your shoulder, your free hand poised to grab for an arrow if you need it as you steer your horse with your thighs. Not that it needed guidance on the path home which you’ve taken hundreds of times.

“So even rabbits can bare their teeth, hmm?” The figure speaks without looking at you. His voice is deep and dripping with amusement. “Put that arrow away before you get hurt, human. I have no business with you”

A shiver goes through you at the words. Human. Your horse stops and refuses to go forward. Your horse that’s encountered all sorts of beasts and kept its nerve. When you don’t say anything the man looks over at you, his eyes are crimson and his face is adorned with tattoos. You know who he is even without having ever seen him in person. You press your lips into a firm line. Sukuna the vampire lord from a distant land. His territory brushed precariously with the Vampire lord who called your own lands home. Two vampires who were closer to gods than anything walking this earth truly ought to be. Crystalline blue eyes and a snowy night flash through your mind’s eye.

You at least know better than to question his presence out loud. But still you don’t avert your gaze and his eyes narrow.  Suddenly he is much much closer, making your horse rear back in panic, knocking you off before it lets out a sound of fear and runs off into the woods, leaving you on your back on the dirt road. 

“Perhaps your beast is smarter than you are.” 

You let out a hiss of pain before opening your eyes and looking up.  He’s standing above you, crimson eyes gazing down at you unimpressed. Fear pricks across your skin and keeps your mouth shut. After what feels like an eternity he snorts and suddenly you feel as if you can move again. You scramble to your feet and look away. Years of experience have told you not to take your eyes off a predator and give them an opening lest they rip out your throat but your instincts say to stop meeting his eyes and get away. You think your instincts have the better of it this time.

“Now you show sense,” His tone is incredulous. Now that you’re looking away from his face he begins to walk past you. He pauses when he’s right beside you. “You should be grateful I’m in a good mood tonight.” And like that he’s gone.  

The encounter leaves you shaken and without a ride. You curse and shakily gather up anything that fell off your horse with you before heading home. Hopefully your horse would find their way back home just fine and wouldn’t get picked off. You’d worry about them being stolen if they liked anyone but you.

You debate the whole way home if you should tell your grandmother that you encountered Sukuna. Would she even believe you? And if she does, what can she do with the information? Bring it up to the other elders at the end of the week? Or maybe Gakuganji is still at the house… Your whole face sours like you just drank bad milk. That old man wouldn’t believe you. There’s no way.

You’re incredibly surprised then when you crest the hill to the village and see chaos. People rushing around everywhere, loading carriages and preparing livestock to move. You break into a run toward your home. This had to do with the elder’s visit, there’s no way it wasn’t related. When you burst through the front door and into the kitchen you’re surprised to find your grandmother much like you had this afternoon when you’d gotten up. Though this time she’s smoking instead of drinking tea. Blue grey smoke curls into the air from the intricately carved pipe.

“Grandma, what’s going on? Why is everyone panicking and why’re you just sitting here?” 

A deep inhale and the end of the pipe shines bright with embers casting the old woman’s face in orange light before she sighs out a plume of smoke and sets the pipe down against her little wooden ashtray. “I told the villagers they need to evacuate.” 

Your brows furrow together and dread begins to tighten your chest. “But why? What did the old fossil say, and don’t try and say it’s unrelated.” 

She snorts. “Don’t let him hear you call him that…” she ignores your mumbled ‘you call him that all the time’ and sighs deeply. “You’re aware that we fall within a vampire lord’s domain correct?” 

You’re a bit taken aback but you nod. “Lord Gojo oversees this territory and the vampires within it.” Not that he exercised any direct power over the human population. Not in a ruling sense anyway. 

Your grandmother nods. “The people of his territory are lucky. He’s benevolent as far as vampire lords are considered. He limits the hunting of vampires within his territory and protects us from outside threats.” She pauses, seeming to think for a moment. “He even saved you and brought you home to me without asking for anything in return.” 

You’d started to brew tea as she spoke, needing to direct your attention somewhere to control the dread, but now after lowering the kettle over the flames in the hearth you look at her. Really look at your grandmother, frail and forlorn but with a slightest hint of a smile on her face.

“Imagine my shock when he showed up at my door with you bundled up tight. By the time he brought you home I’d heard tell of what happened to the caravan, I’d assumed you’d been lost. But there he was with you, rosy cheeked and cared for. You’d been missing until you were able to tell him who your family were… “

You sit across from her, wondering where she was going with bringing up this story. “I don’t really remember much other than when he found me to be honest..” 

“I’m surprised you remember that much.. Truly though I’d expected him to ask for something in return. Perhaps even ask for you once you were of age.”

You choke on nothing at her words and your cheeks flush with heat. “Grandma! That isn’t funny.” Your voice is indignant.

“It’s not meant to be,” she says seriously then sighs. “My point is we’re lucky. He mostly leaves us all be despite his eccentric whims. That isn’t something many who live within a vampire lord’s territory can say. Afterall when I was growing up I fled from the territory of one who was far more malevolent.” 

Lord Sukuna. Your encounter on the road flashes through your mind. Things are slowly clicking into place in your mind. 

“Lord Gojo has been challenged to a battle by Lord Sukuna.” She folds her hands on the table in front of her, the weight of her words creating a pit beneath you that threatens to swallow you whole. You'd heard the stories of how those who lived within his domain lived or died based on his pleasure of displeasure. 

“On the road tonight-” you begin but your grandmother cuts you off.

“This is why the village is evacuating. We’re too close to where the battle is to take place. Though some are going to go further than others. If Lord Sukuna wins, who's to say how quickly all our lives will be thrown into chaos. If he’ll decide to try and take over or if this is simply a game to test his power.” 

You chew your lip. “Okay if that’s the case why aren’t you preparing to leave as well?” 

She makes an incredulous sound. “Please, you know how my health is. I’m staying here, I won’t be run off from my home by him again. I told the villagers to evacuate so they can make their own choice. Mine is to stay here.” 

You stare in disbelief. Maybe you shouldn’t be shocked considering this small village basically sprung up around your grandmother after she settled here. But still to just stay and wait for whatever happens… 

The kettle begins to whistle and you push away from the table to get it. To prepare you both steaming cups of tea. 

“My question then, oh grandchild of mine, is what will you do?” 

Your hands tremble slightly as you pour each of you a cup. “How long do we have, do you know?”

“Two nights from now on the harvest moon.” 

“Thats-” 

“Incredibly short notice? I imagine Sukuna is forcing lord Gojo’s hand for it to be so sudden. Fight him on that night willingly or he’ll simply begin wreaking havoc in his domain regardless and force him into a confrontation that way.”

“And i really can’t convince you to leave…?” 

“No. I decided years ago that I would live out my life here in this village. If it’s to end in a blaze of glory during a battle of titans? Then so be it.” 

You tightly clutch at the tea cup in your hands. There’s an unspoken ‘you won’t take that away from me will you?’ that hangs in the air between the two of you. And you won’t. Despite how much it pains you, you won’t take that away from the woman who’s given you so much over the years. 

—

In the end you’d left. You stayed longer than most, until the autumn sun was high in the sky, uncaring of the destruction that was sure to be wrought that night. Hadn’t the sun realized that a day like this was meant for storms and gloom? But you’d stayed until your grandmother urged you out the door. You’d wanted to drag her with you but if her final wish truly was to live and die in this village you couldn’t take that away. 

You didn’t go far. Only as far as you had to, something in you deciding that you’d bear witness even if from a distance. The powers at play were hard to comprehend. Two beings who appear to be but mere men but with power so immense that you think your grandmother’s description of titans failed to convey it fully. You imagined this is what it was for gods to clash. 

The night is old when all seems to have settled and you make your way toward the battlefield. Your intention was merely to see what was left of your home and if your grandmother perhaps still lived. You don’t make it that far though under the harvest moon’s orange red glow. Instead halfway through a scorched field you find him. Pale form covered in ash and blood, once brilliant blue eyes staring dully at the night sky above. 

Your breath stutters in your chest. Part of you wishes you could say you hesitate but you don’t. You move to the vampire lord’s side, gently going to your knees by his head. There’s no reaction, not at first anyway. But then dull eyes slowly move toward you. Even still you knew he was dying. If nothing was done he was going to die just like you would have in the snow all those years ago if he hadn't found you.

You draw your hunting knife from your belt, the worn handle carved from the antler of your first kill making it feel like an extension of yourself. You stare at it and its glinting blade, kept meticulously sharp and clean by you, before glancing back down at the man who’d saved you. You weren’t sure if this would even work but you felt you needed to try. Cold steel cuts into the back of your wrist cleanly. You let out a hiss between your teeth at the feeling, and then watch mesmerized by the blood welling to the surface. 

With the knife tucked away you slip one hand beneath his head and then lower your bleeding wrist to his lips. At first he doesn’t react. Instead your life simply flows passively past his lips. “Please… I never got to thank you,” Your plea is quiet. 

You feel it then, his lips moving against your skin. His lashes flutter before his eyes seem to gain a hazy sort of focus, different from the dullness of moments prior. You press your wrist more firmly to his mouth and you feel his tongue laving over the cut in your wrist. The action surprising you both as something unfamiliar in itself but also in how it soothes the stinging wound. Then like a steel trap being triggered his hands fly up and grab your arm securely before his mouth fully latches onto your wrist, fangs cleanly piercing your flesh as if you were nothing more than a ripe summer peach. You cry out, both from the sudden sting of pain and the abruptness of his action. You don’t try to yank away, instead curling forward, the hand that was once supporting his head going to the ground to curl into the soil. You pant, your face directly above his with your eyes closed tight. The pain is fading as quickly as it started, numbness taking its place similar to when he’d licked the cut you’d made. Your eyes flutter back open and for the first time the eyes you remember from that winter night meet your own. Crystalline as they hold your gaze even as it grows hazy. 

You wonder then if you were trading your life for his. If he would drink you dry with every pull of your blood past his lips. You don’t think you’d mind that since your time had been borrowed from him anyway. You sway even on your knees and begin to fall forward. It’s only distantly that you note him releasing your wrist before everything swims out of focus. __

Ba-thump

“Gojo! You’re alive! We thought- .. who is that?” 

Ba-thump

“I don’t have time to explain. Get Shoko-”

Ba-thump

Ba-thump

And there you have it folks! And i used dividers for the for the first time. Nothin too fancy but I felt this deserved it. I would love to hear if you guys enjoyed this and what your favorite part/s were. This fic is sorta my baby. It's somthing I'll work on when the mood strikes because I want to do it right and put a lot of love into it. I'm really trying for those gothic romance vibes. Also sorry Gojo wasn't in this chapter a ton but I really needed to set the scene and tone of this story.

tag list!: @icy-spicy @margumis @fah-keet @missmugiwara @pastelle-rabbit @mysugu @fushigurro @nanamikentoseyebags @whispers-of-lilith @princess-okkotsu @strawberrystepmom @chifuyuskoneko @katsulock @kinjuutsu @kweenkatsuki-main @biscuitsngravie @pupkashi @chuuyasboots @porridgesblog @kailali @4sat0ruu

divider credit: @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[mrsjoeythehurler]

When I Met You

(OC FMC x Liam Mairi)

I’ve decided to write a fic about an OC and Liam Mairi from Fourth Wing. It’s going to follow the events of the first book and I’m so excited to share it with you. This is my first fic I’ve ever written so keep that in mind while reading :)

I hope you enjoy it!

All characters except for Aurora Sallow who is my OC and the FMC of this fic belong to Rebecca Yarros. The plot of Fourth Wing also belongs to Rebecca Yarros.

Content Warnings: most of the warnings that are for Fourth Wing are also going to be for this fic. That includes: Blood, death, injury, violence and war. The only content warning I am adding is panic attacks (2).

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ Aurora Sallow ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It's Conscription Day—a day I'm not particularly happy to take part in, but I don't have a choice.

I was always meant to become a Scribe. I was always meant to look at books all day and spend my time transcribing them. It's what I've been studying for since I could remember.

That all changed when my parents sat me down two days ago to tell me I was required to become a Rider. My whole world was flipped upside down, my entire future ripped away from me in one 20-minute conversation.

The Riders' Quadrant is apparently in need of more Riders. I heard it's because most dragons are uninterested in bonding with humans, and I'm one of the unlucky ones who's been chosen to try and change that.

Looking around me, I see guards mounted on either side of the entrance and walking about. I see people hugging and conversing with their loved ones and the occasional person silently praying, most likely to any gods who will listen to ensure their safety. They're probably going towards the same destination as me.

Sighing, I look down and make sure my outfit is in order before fixing my hair. I tried to dress appropriately for the Riders' Quadrant—well, as appropriately as my closet back home had to offer. I'm wearing a gray long-sleeved shirt and corset, black pants that are a bit too tight for my liking, and my favorite pair of black platform boots. I'm just about to look through my bag to double-check that I have everything when I hear a familiar voice.

It's Violet Sorrengail. We've been classmates for a really long time. She's always been really kind and someone I consider a friend. Like me, Violet always wanted to become a Scribe; we would always talk about our hopes for the future and look forward to reading books all day.

What is she doing in this line?

She's talking to her sister Mira, so I don't want to interrupt, but I want to know why she's not with the Scribes anymore. She was always among the most intelligent people in our class, if not the smartest. She was going to be the best Scribe the Quadrant ever had. I don't see her wanting to give that up, especially considering it was her dream.

The line continues to move slowly, and when there's only one person ahead of me, I start to really feel the anxiety. I don't know how I'm going to do this. I didn't know two days ago, and I sure as hell don't know now. Who knows if I'll even pass the Parapet? I could be slowly walking towards my death right now. Maybe I should have talked to my parents more and tried to convince them that I can't do this and that anyone else out there is a better fit for this than I am. But I hate disappointing people. My parents don't even know that my panic attacks are back. They were so happy and relieved that I was doing better over the last year, but it all fell apart.

"Next!" Someone calls from ahead of the line.

It's a rider, a marked rider. Along with Captain Fitzgibbons, who’s a Scribe. "Aurora Sallow? First Violet Sorrengail, and now you?"

I give him a small smile. "I'm sorry, sir."

He nods. "It will be sad to see you go. Your future as a Scribe looked so bright."

I want to cry. Instead, I keep my small smile in place and try my best to keep my voice level. "Thank you."

As I go through the entrance, I climb the hundreds of stairs.

After what feels like 100 hours, I'm at the top of the turret, and it's raining. The turret is all stone, formed in a circular platform. The river below shines, with the sun glinting off the surface. Darkness runs through it that rivals the deep sea. I shouldn't have looked down.

Straight ahead lies the Parapet. It's a very slim bridge made of stone with nothing on either side to hold onto. It's a test to see how well you would manage while riding a dragon.

I'm screwed.

There are three riders at the entrance, but only one catches my eye—a mountain of a man with black hair and warm, tawny skin. He turns my way, and I can see the scar running through his left eyebrow, and that's when I know who it is. Xaden Riorson.

Xaden is the son of the Great Betrayer, Fen Riorson, who led the Rebellion. All of the children of the rebels were forced to join the Riders' Quadrant in response to their parents' decisions. I bet they hoped Xaden would get killed, but they were wrong. He's a third-year Wingleader now.

And he's also kind of scary.

Once he sees me staring at him, he narrows his eyes. I'm not sure if it's with recognition or disgust.

Then, I decide to wave at him like an idiot.

He turns back to talk to the Rider beside him, pretending I don't exist.

Yeah, I'm so screwed.

"Next!" Another Rider calls, and I step forward.

[elspethdekarios]

Atonement

Hello fellow Solavellan sufferers!!! I've written a little fic about what I imagine goes down between Solas and Lavellan once the game is over. I'll have you know I listened to the Lost Elf Theme on repeat while writing it, if that tells you anything. Anyway, read below the cut or on AO3 here!

SFW, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 2,821

! HUGE VEILGUARD SPOILERS !

When she stepped into the Fade, hand in hand with her love, Sulah had no preconceived notion of what to expect on the other side, nor did she spend a moment speculating about what it could possibly be. She was with Solas, after all, and there was no use in trying to predict his actions. It was funny, really—how she found him predictable and surprising all in the same. No, there was little use trying to guess where in the Fade he would lead them. Nonetheless, she wasn't sure she would have ever expected this.

The pocket of the Fade they walked into was dull and gray as stone. In fact, most of it was stone. Fragments of buildings and debris floated slowly through the foggy sky above. Tendrils of winding roots grew up through cracks in the stone. There were staircases that seemed to lead to nowhere, and twisted, barren trees clinging to broken columns and walls. The air was so still it felt stifling in Sulah’s lungs. And Solas, downtrodden and bruised, looked like he belonged there. Like he was part of the backdrop. As if he could hear her thoughts, he spoke.

“It is a reflection of what I am. What I don't want to be.” He paused, dropping his head. “What I don't want to face.”

“This is how you atone?”

“I told you it would be terrible.”

“And I told you forever.” Sulah turned to him, heart aching for the bloodied mess of his face. “I meant it.”

Solas lifted his head enough to look at her through glassy, violet eyes. “I don’t deserve you, vhenan.”

“I think that’s up to me,” she said, wiping away a stray tear on his cheek. “Let’s talk, my love. Before you start making your amends.”

They sat with their backs against a nearby stone wall. Solas’s eyes alternated between being heavy with sleep and haunting despair. He looked so much older than she remembered him—not physically, really, but in the way he seemed to be held down with millennia of burden. On the other hand, he had the heartbreaking demeanor of a child unable to emotionally grasp the multitude of his feelings.

“I don’t know… where to start,” he breathed. With one look at her, a hint of hope glimmered amongst the sadness in his eyes. “I have missed you. Desperately so.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Sulah’s voice cracked as she spoke, a stream of tears steadily falling down her cheeks. She brushed them away and smiled sadly. “So let’s start there, shall we?”

His kiss tasted of salt and metal. She didn’t care about the wounds on his face or the small gash on his lip still swelling with blood. It had been a decade since she tasted him, touched him, spoke to him. Even though she knew he visited in her dreams, he never made contact—only watched, a dark figure in the distance. How she longed to reach out for him every time, to pull him close and find solace in his arms like she used to. Sulah crawled in front of him, her knees aching as they pressed into the cold stone, and wrapped her arms around his neck. After a brief hesitation, Solas rested his hands on her waist, his touch timid at first, like he was afraid of doing something wrong. But his touch grew more confident by the second, and soon his arms were wrapped around her so tight she could barely breathe. It felt as if a missing piece of her heart had been restored, held in place by molten gold.

“I don’t know that I can possibly tell you all of it. Perhaps I could… show you, instead.” With a single thought, Solas willed into the Fade a blue crystal statuette of a wolf, not unlike the one Sulah found when his ritual failed. He held it, concentrated on it, and its core radiated bright blue magic. He held the figure out to her. As Sulah took it from him, their destitute surroundings swirled and dissolved, leaving her in front of a young Solas. His face was not quite so worn with pain and exhaustion like the one she knew. Long, auburn hair cascaded down the center of his head, falling over his shoulder as he turned to face the other elf in front of him.

“Solas, how could you?” the other elf asked. His skin was tan, his hair was dark, and his face was marked with Mythal’s branching vallaslin. The same branches that Sulah had tattooed underneath her eyes.

“I do not expect you to understand, Felassan,” Solas said, standing tall and proud as ever. “It was necessary for the enemy to believe we were committed. A heavy sacrifice, but one that gave us a real chance to end the war.”

“You knowingly sent those spirits to their deaths!” Felassan shouted. “We’re supposed to be better than this.”

Felassan spoke to Solas with the intimacy and confidence of a close friend, unafraid to confront his wrongdoings. Sulah could make out a hint of remorse in Solas’s eyes before his face hardened into a scowl.

“I did what had to be done.”

The scene dissipated. Ruins were replaced with the glorious landscape of ancient Arlathan, sprawling greenery among grand, floating palaces. Solas argued with an elven woman who Sulah now recognized as Mythal. She was identical to the spirit fragment she had seen before stepping into the Fade with Solas, only solid and real. The words they spoke were jumbled, as if Solas couldn’t remember the exact things said when he transferred the memory to the statue, but Sulah knew what they were discussing all the same: the Blight. Solas protested, pleaded with Mythal, before finally giving in to her demands.

“I will follow you always,” he said. Sulah had never heard him sound so defeated. A distinct and overwhelming sense of shame settled over her as the scene faded.

The memories continued like this, one after the other, each one brief but enough to show her the actions that haunted him. And enough to leave her with thousands of questions. She saw his regrets from centuries ago—memories of Mythal, Elgern’an, Ghilan’nain, the other Evanuris. She saw him destroy the legacy of the titans, and the corruption that introduced the Blight to the world. She saw his sorrow at the creation of the Veil, the loss of the world he knew, the unbreakable tether he had to Mythal, similar to a commandeering mother and a child eager to please her, desperate for her approval. She saw his plans to give Corypheus the orb go awry, the conflict raging inside of him as he fell in love with Sulah, the way he almost told her the truth that night in Crestwood. She felt the guilt he carried afterwards—that he still carried. She saw him devise his devious plan to mold Rook into someone the prison would take in his place. His betrayal and desperation.

She saw the despair in his eyes when he killed Varric.

Sulah stood on the raised platform where Solas orchestrated his ritual, watching as Varric climbed the stairs in an attempt to stop his friend. Even in a memory, the air was charged with powerful magic, culminating in a swirling wind that blew her hair into her face, obscuring her view. She could only make out fragments of the argument.

“You need to listen—”

“You have come a long way and made a valiant effort, Varric—”

“—able to give me a straight answer—”

“—rather than admit this is mine to solve—”

“—who are you trying to convince here? Me or yourself?”

Varric’s last statement stung like a knife. His words echoed as time slowed. Sulah felt the heavy burden of self doubt imbued in Solas’s memory as the two men locked eyes, their argument hanging in the air between them. In a chaotic flash, several things happened: Solas turned to continue the ritual, Varric attempted to pry the lyrium dagger from Solas’s hands, and the monuments of the Evanuris surrounding the ritual site began to fall. Somewhere in the chaos, while wrenching the dagger back from Varric’s grasp, the blade pierced through his chest. The sound of ripping flesh. The gasp from Varric’s mouth.

“NO!” Sulah shouted. Time had slowed, and she rushed to catch him as he stumbled, forgetting that it was no use. Her arms moved through him like a ghost.

Solas watched his friend fall to the bottom of the stairs, regret bubbling up inside of him at what he’d done. And still, the sense of doubt from Varric’s words lingered, sullying Solas’s certainty as innocent blood seeped through the fabric of his gloves.

He steeled himself with cold resolve and turned away.

The gray of the Fade prison came back into view. Sulah felt like she had been in Solas’s memories for hours, but neither her body nor his had moved from the ground against the wall. He watched her with bated breath, his jaw clenched, eyes glossy with fresh tears. Moments ago, she watched him command a rebellion, steadfast and resolute and proud. A powerful god among mortals. But the Solas in front of her now held little of the immense ancient spirit she’d seen. He was only a man, broken from the weight of his regrets.

“I cannot ask for your forgiveness, vhenan. Not even your understanding.” His voice broke, his next words spoken through a sob. “I am so sorry that I let you fall in love with a monster.”

Solas hugged his knees to his chest. His hands shook and his body trembled as he cried. It was pure, raw, searing emotion—and it was the first time she had ever seen him lose control of himself. Sulah had been lonely for years, yearning for the man who felt like home while sleeping cold in an empty bed, but she’d never felt as alone as she felt now, sitting in the vast emptiness of the Fade with a god shedding centuries’ worth of repressed agony that she could never possibly comprehend. He was the one who always seemed to know what to do, who had a plan for everything. He was the one more familiar with the Fade than the waking world. But he was also the one who had to face his regrets. His pain. And he had already proven that he couldn’t do that on his own.

“Solas,” she said, quiet and sad. “You killed Varric.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked through tears.

“I… I knew he was gone, but no one…” she trailed off, thinking back to the letter she received from Morrigan shortly after she met Rook and the others. Varric was gravely injured in an altercation. He did not make it. I am sorry you have to find out this way. “No one told me it was by your hand.”

“They were protecting you,” he said. “From the truth of what I am. Perhaps they shouldn’t have done so.”

Sulah sat in silence, trying to piece it all together in her mind.

“I never meant to hurt Varric,” Solas whispered. “I have harmed so many people, innocent people, and Varric… Varric….”

He stopped speaking and rested his forehead on his knees, letting the tears fall on his armor.

“My love—”

“How can you possibly still love me, Sulah?” he snapped, a wolf showing his fangs. “I deserve whatever cruel fate awaits me here. You do not.”

“Solas—”

“Would you truly—”

“Let me speak,” she said, stern and commanding. Her Inquisitor voice, the other members liked to call it. It worked. Solas nodded for her to continue. “To heal from your past, you have to confront it. It will be painful, but you must. Tell me about Varric.”

Solas sighed and let his head fall back to the wall, the apex of his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Varric was a good man. He was my friend.” He closed his eyes and Sulah watched as a single tear ran down his bloodied face. She tried to hold back her own tears, but they streamed warm down her cheeks nonetheless.

“What would you say to him if he were here?”

“That it is one of my greatest regrets, one that I desperately wish I could take back. That I enjoyed his company on our journey years ago, and that I have missed him in the years since. And that I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Like a prayer, the final words escaped Solas’s mouth in a despondent whisper. In the distance, a structure resembling the skyline of Kirkwall crumbled. Sulah recognized it from her visit several years ago. She had only made it to Kirkwall once in the time that Varric was viscount, a position he reluctantly accepted, but one that she always suspected he secretly enjoyed. He took her to the cliffs of Sundermount, where Dalish sometimes set up camp. It looked remarkably like the area of the Free Marches her clan frequented before she left.

“I thought it might remind you of home”, he had said.

“I came here to see* your *home, Varric.”

“We’re doing that too.” he pointed across the water to the silhouetted, square buildings.

She smiled at the memory and let herself cry as the Kirkwall replica became an avalanche of stone plummeting into the abyss. When its final, broken pieces fell, Solas turned back to her and took a long breath. She looked at him, attempting to reconcile the Solas she knew and loved, the Solas in front of her now, with the Solas she saw in his memories. There was a cruel pride deep inside of him, one he tried to keep from her for so long. She could see it now, and it was fractured.

How could she possibly come to terms with all he had done? He had taken Varric away from this world, a man who, despite his faults, brought hope and friendship and humor into the world around him. She could feel the empty, aching shells of all the hearts who missed him—including her own. There were more adventures to be had, more books to be written, and Solas took it away. Away from Varric, away from the world. Sulah couldn’t bring herself to consider the even larger things he had done. The man she loved was responsible for the Blight. He tranquilized the Titans. He murdered his friends—sometimes on accident, sometimes for what he considered betrayal.

Sulah steadied her breathing and closed her eyes, focusing on the rhythm of the air flowing in and out of her lungs. She let the world fall away until she could feel nothing but the essence of her soul spreading into her limbs, making her weightless. If Solas was a spirit of wisdom, what was she, deep down? A word stirred somewhere in the depths of her heart: patience.

“This is going to take a long time, vhenan.” Solas’s words roused her from contemplation.

“Yes,” she said. “For both of us, I think.”

For the first time since reuniting, he touched her of his own accord, studying her prosthetic arm with gentle fingers before resting his hand on her thigh beside it.

“It’s a good thing time doesn’t exist in the Fade, then.” Sulah placed her remaining hand on top of his. “To answer your earlier question, I choose to still love you despite your mistakes, Solas. I love you because I tried to move on, to meet other people, but none of them could touch whatever piece of my soul that you do. Every person I tried to give my heart to was a flimsy bandage over a gaping wound. And I had to reconcile with myself that I love someone who would tear the world apart for his own stubborn pride. I know your heart, Solas. You are more than your mistakes.”

Sulah felt as if a small part of the rift between them had stitched itself back together; a fragile scar translucent and deep, but healing nonetheless. For a moment, the insurmountable hurdles she would have to help him overcome fell away. It was just the two of them, together in the Fade like all those years ago. She knew how the world would see them: the lovestruck Inquisitor and the Dread Wolf. The cautionary tale of a Dalish girl who fell right into the jaws of Fen’Harel himself.

“Sulah,” Solas reached for her face with both hands, holding her like he had to be sure she wasn’t a mere reflection of his desire. “As long as you will have me, I swear to you: I will never abandon you again. You will have me, always.”

His kiss was soft, but charged with intention. Devotion. As they broke apart, he pulled Sulah into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

“Ar lath ma vhenan. Bellanaris.”

[mononijikayu]

kayu's playlist - side 800;

“Will you wed me? On the morrow?”

Satoru’s question hung in the air, a whisper filled with promise and longing. His eyes searched yours, looking for the answer he already knew but needed to hear. The sincerity in his gaze, the way he held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, made your heart swell with emotion.

hello, this is kayu!

i haven't written to all of you in a while. but here i am. i write to you all in gratitude for being so kind to me and being so fond of my writing. i express nothing but gratitude. you have all been so good to me and i would like to return that with little gifts.

i dabbled in fanfiction almost a decade or so ago and i've been taken to multiple fandoms over the years. and im very thankful that you have all been receptive to my works here too, with warm welcome.

ive spent much of my holiday just writing here, because it makes me genuinely so happy. and it makes me happy that you enjoy it with me. 800 hundred of you - i still can't believe it! i am just full of gratitude!

as i said to all of you, i was going to do a poll on how to do this playlist. and the result was this:

i voted too, as you can see! and as promised, i'll be writing the winners within the course of this week! the runner ups will end up seeing the light of day, but i just don't know when. until then, i hope you enjoy what i write up and enjoy them with me!

xoxoxoxo kayu

◤─────•~❉✿❉~•─────◥

the dragon and the maiden fair ─── gojo satoru.

◣─────•~❉✿❉~•─────◢

His bright blue gaze remarked each movement of your face as laughter echoed at each and every joke, every quip. There was true joy in the beams of your eyes. Satoru Targaryen must admit that he thinks no one has ever truly looked at him with such warmth. No one had ever been this joyful being by his side. No one but you.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

◤─────•~❉✿❉~•─────◥

from the start ─── fushiguro megumi.

◣─────•~❉✿❉~•─────◢

But Megumi was never good with words. He didn’t know how to reach you, how to express the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him every time you smiled at him. He watched from afar as you navigated relationships, your heart occasionally given to others, always returning to him as a friend. He told himself it was enough, that he could be content just being part of your life.

━─━────༺༻────━─━

◤─────•~❉✿❉~•─────◥

i wanna be your slave ─── ryomen sukuna.

◣─────•~❉✿❉~•─────◢

Sukuna’s pace never faltered as he drove into you with relentless intensity, your body arching under his expert touch. His dark red eyes were dark with desire, a mix of possession and something deeper that flickered within their depths. He knows he owns you, and yet somehow — he still wants more of you. He still craves to own you. Over and over, each night he asks for your presence, to take you over and over. He still wants more. He still has the greed, the hunger to want more.

[rabbitsrants]

PROOF THAT SHINRAN IS ONE OF THE MOST BRILLIANTLY WRITTEN ROMANCES OF ALL TIME - PART 3

if you haven't already read the posts i've linked down below, please make sure to do so before you proceed, cause they're important for context. thank you so much in advance!

CLICK HERE FOR PART 1

CLICK HERE FOR PART 2

IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER

as i've already explained in my disclaimer, my ultimate goal with this masterlist is to prove how well written shinran is - it's to demonstrate that they're unquestionably each other's half and the heart of the dcmk universe.

people often minimize the importance that shinichi and ran have in each other's lives by labeling them as boring, predictable "childhood sweethearts" which couldn't be further from the truth.

so far we've established that

1) shinichi doesn't fall for ran gradually, which is what usually happens with dcmk childhood friends, he knows right away that ran's something special.

2) even though they share the same core values, their personalities are very different, which has a positive effect on them individually: ran gets shinichi to come out of his shell and contributes to his emotional growth, while shinichi grounds ran and helps her articulate her feelings.

now it's time to analyze the part i teased in part two already:

they share a soul

god, where do i even begin? this post is probably going to be ridiculously long but it's by far the most crucial part of my analysis, so please bear with me. cause as far as i'm concerned? this is the main reason why shinichi and ran belong together.

don't get me wrong, love at first sight is a beautiful concept and i deeply appreciate the fact that shinichi and ran complement each other, however, they aren't the only dcmk duo that brings out the best in each other.

what sets them apart from other dcmk dynamics in the most meaningful way is the undeniable fact that their hearts are one and the same. but what is that even supposed to mean? let's break it down, shall we?

their intuition

this segment of the break-down deserves its own post, because there are countless instances of shinichi and ran showcasing incredible instincts, but i'll try to keep it concise for now. both shin and ran arguably have a sixth sense. that's already fascinating on its own, but what i'm really trying to home in on is that their intuition offers them great insight into other people's souls. sometimes i get the impression they carry a compass that points at people and tells them who's trustworthy and who's not.

chapter 22

chapter 892

ran has so many reasons to doubt takeshi and shinichi has so many reasons to doubt amuro, but they instinctively know they can trust them. shinichi even feels safe enough to confront amuro, which is incredible, cause my boy takes a huge risk by directly questioning his allegiance.

idk about y'all but i think that's beautiful. it reminds me of an amazing quote from a famous philosopher:

their souls are pure. which is why they're able to recognize that quality in other people and each other.

their optimism

despite all the darkness that shinichi and ran face every single day, they have a really optimistic outlook on life. ngl, their unwavering positivity makes me extremely emotional.

chapter 252

shinichi gets shot by criminals and he's slowly bleeding to death. the detective boys feel like it's their fault that shin got hurt, they blame themselves and feel hopeless. my boy is in pain, he's fighting for his life, he's probably even scared, it'd be more than understandable if he saw their point and regretted the unfortunate situation they found themselves in. but he doesn't:

he chooses to look on the bright side. even in death.

which, fortunately, gets the detective boys out of their dark way of thinking. shin helps them understand that, yes, they're on a bumpy road, but at least it's leading somewhere.

chapter 780

shinichi gets a culprit to reveal he's from the kansai region by successfully provoking him with a fake accent, but shin doesn't just piss off the culprit, he also pisses off kazuha and heiji, so kazuha begins to wonder whether people from the kansai region are narrow-minded and ran's perspective is something i did NOT see coming:

HOW IS IT POSSIBLE TO BE THIS ADORABLE AND WISE?!

just like shinichi ran's able to offer kazuha a surprisingly positive outlook on her concerns, which genuinely makes her feel better.

there are many instances of their unshakable optimism and the effect it has on others, it's really beautiful to examine.

i recommend y'all look into it on your own, cause in this part of my masterlist i merely have the space to touch on shared traits like their great intuition and firm optimism, but now it's time to get into the biggest and most important portion of this analysis!

their idealism

i hope y'all read the disclaimer i've linked at the beginning! if you haven't, i urge you to read it before you continue with this post!

shinrans shared idealism is something i've already mentioned in part two of my masterlist, but there's so much more to say about it:

i'd argue that it's the main thing that connects them. not to shade my own children, but they value justice and human life so much, for most people, including me, it sometimes borders on stupidity.

but that's the thing, shinichi kudo and ran mouri aren't most people.

cause most dcmk characters 1) don't initially share their virtues and 2) question their admittedly heroic but also terribly reckless actions, whereas shinichi and ran support and admire each other because of it. because they're the same.

i'm about to give a few examples of shinichi and ran being the most idealistic characters in the manga and for the purpose of full context, i have to showcase the contrast between shinran's morals and the values of other characters. i appreciate and care about every single character who's brought up in the next part of my essay, so don't take this post as an invitation for hostility towards them, that's not my goal, okay? okay. let's proceed.

a) sense of justice and heroism

chapter 239-240

shinichi impulsively investigates the black organization. haibara repeatedly reminds him that he's being reckless and putting himself in danger, she even mocks his strong sense of justice and initially refuses to join his investigation because she's smart and values self preservation. haibara ends up joining him after all, but keeps urging him to drop his investigation and leave with her.

i don't blame her one bit for her approach to the situation... truth be told, her reaction makes a lot more sense to me than shinichi's 😂 but that's because i share her pragmatism.

at this point in the manga shinichi and haibara have zero support. neither the fbi, nor the cia is helping them. it's incredibly dangerous for them to go after the black organization completely alone and it's not just unsafe for them individually either, it's risky for everyone they care about. their exposure would endanger a lot of people, including agasa, ran, kogoro, the detective boys, etc...

and safety concerns aside, why would she care about justice in that situation anyway? how could she, a teen who's trapped in a child's body, possibly hold the black organization accountable without any help?

so yeah, i strongly believe that if you look at the situation logically, haibara's point of view makes a lot more sense than shinichi's and it's fair of her to choose safety over justice, especially when the latter seems so impossible achieve.

too bad that shinichi doesn't give a flying fuck about things like common sense or self preservation. he's completely driven by idealism, it's what defines him as a person, in more ways than one. the only person in the dcmk universe who accurately mirrors his righteousness is ran mouri and it expresses itself through countless parallels that completely contrast haibara's position in chapter 239-240

chapter 44

shinichi pretty much lashes out at the murderer for personal reasons which i dive into here. on top of that, he's passionately opposed to the culprit's idea of using justice as a reason for murder and guess what? ran unsurprisingly feels the same way:

chapter 313

the obvious observation here is that their speeches are remarkably alike, but what i find even more fascinating is the fact that the killers react so similarly. shinran's sense of justice is so powerful, it doesn't just guide their own actions, it even moves morally corrupt people and holds them accountable.

furthermore, the concept of personal safety is completely lost on both shinichi and ran lol.

they constantly risk their lives for other people, including haibara, who, as we already established, initially disregards heroism.

chapter 289

chapter 434

AHHHHH!!! THE PARALLELS ARE KILLING ME

anyway, i'm not trying to undermine the beauty and complexity of haibara's character, she's incredibly well written and i think it's important to emphasize that she's actually attempting to sacrifice herself in both of these chapters.

i actually really appreciate the fact that haibara is this complicated person with a rough background who slowly figures out her values with the help of her friends, imo it gives her layers.

i'm simply pointing out that upon her initial introduction her virtues instinctively differ from shinran's, it takes her some time to grow into the same kind of heroism that shinichi and ran display from the get-go. because they inspire her. but i'll go over that in a minute.

b) they value human life

one of shinichi's main attributes has always been his profound interest in human life. it's a quality that i never questioned until recently because i always figured it was due to his work as a detective.

but the more i think about it, the less it works as an explanation because we know a lot of detectives in the dcmk universe who don't share his interest in protecting people at all costs.

interestingly enough, there is a character who shares his passion but it's not someone who professionally deals with human life - it's just a compassionate, tenderhearted girl who instinctively wants to keep others safe no matter what.

chapter 1026

ran saves a murderer from suicide

which reminds me of shinichi attempting to do the same in another chapter:

chapter 67

he tries so hard... but unlike ran he ultimately fails.

and who's there to comfort him? who's the only person in the whole world who naturally understands his sorrow, who truly knows how valuable human life is and wants to protect it just as much as he does? ran. of course it's ran.

and it will always be ran.

having said that, analyzing shinran's idealism is beyond fascinating to me because i rarely share their virtues or courage. my values are more aligned with the rest of the dcmk universe:

chapter 153

shinichi notices that a culprit is about to kill herself and gets in the way of her plans. heiji's response resonates with me a lot.

CAUSE YEAH, what's the point of keeping someone alive against their will? isn't that infinitely crueler than just letting them die? maybe.

but shinichi and ran don't give a fuck lol. they don't stop the murderers suicide attempts because they're heartless though. it's the opposite, really.

as we already established, both shinichi and ran are optimists at heart, so they believe or least hope that people can always better themselves. i think that's the main reason why the interfere.

besides, shinichi and ran simply care too much about justice - they need culprits to be held accountable and they respect human life too much to allow suicide.

again, do i share their passionate interest in human life? LOL, hell no. i think very few people are capable of being that idealistic. most people, including me, value innocent life but shinichi and ran? they value life regardless of innocence and on top of that, they even value the lives of people who ARE ACTIVELY TRYING TO KILL THEM

chapter 773

a man is threatening to bomb the detective agency, he could kill ran, kogoro and sera within SECONDS and what does my girl ran do? yeah, she saves his life, LOL!

she's already in immense danger and she's seconds away from being saved, but she goes out of her way and puts herself even more at risk, just to save a guy who's threatening her life. WHY?!

because that's just who she is.

understandably, sera is baffled. she doesn't get it.

which makes sense, cause, again, there's only one character in the entire manga who truly understands ran and passionately agrees with her principles and that's shinichi kudo:

their idealism never wavers. it's perplexing for characters like haibra, heiji, sera and even for me as a reader. it's also extremely inspiring though. which brings me to my next point!

c) they inspire others

chapter 239

remember how haibara initially refuses to join shinichi during his investigation? guess what changes her mind...

even though haibara mocks shinichi's idealism and admittedly doesn't understand it in the beginning, it does get her thinking.

she grows up under terrible circumstances which force her to prioritize her safety over human life, but after watching shinichi for a while, she comes to the realization that she no longer has to live that way.

his unshakable idealism fascinates and encourages her, she's reminded that she has choices now and suddenly she finds herself wanting to do better.

but shinichi isn't the only person who helps her evolve in a pretty significant way:

chapter 313

ran's speech about justice and courage deeply moves haibara in the same way it affects the culprit.

her speech doesn't just give haibra the courage to finally introduce herself to ran after months of avoiding her (for reasons i'll get into in part four of my masterlist) i'd argue it also contributes to her finally facing the black organization in chapter 434

while shinichi helps haibara understand that she has choices now and urges her not to run from her fate, ran motivates haibara to be courageous and face her fate. it's actually incredible how much they help haibara, just by being themselves.

chapter 398-400

check out the blog of my wonderful friend aracaeli who recently brought attention to an extremely underrated chapter which emphasizes that ran doesn't just affect characters like haibara, she even inspires her other half shinichi, which is a remarkable accomplishment, considering their morals are generally completely aligned.

ran's idealism knows no bounds. how could it not move people? especially someone like haibara who's just starting to get familiar with the concept of friendship.

in this chapter ran's idealism inspires countless people (shinichi, haibara, the detective boys, the murderer) it says so much about her character and it's such a touching reading experience.

chapter 153

remember how heiji understandably regrets saving the murderer from suicide after seeing her devastating reaction? shinichi knows exactly what to say:

AGAIN, personally, i don't even blame heiji for his initial views. frankly, i agree with them! but it's really hard not to be affected by shinichi's powerful words. i can see how they could completely change the mindset of a passionate detective like heiji. and they do.

chapter 188

to the point that heiji's willing to risk his life because of them...

chapter 774

even sera, who can be a bit morally corrupt at times, is impressed with ran's strong virtues:

but that's to be expected, considering that shinichi and ran even had an impact on vermouth who's an established, ruthless serial killer.

i know, i already extensively talked about the new york case in part two, but it's such an important chapter for shinran that i feel the need to bring it up again, especially if it's going to continue the wonderful discourse i've been having about it with amazing bloggers like sakublogs who i urge you to check out!

chapter 353

this case is so, so special to me because it fundamentally captures the essence of shinran.

vermouth is about to take ran's life but the railing she is leaning on breaks and she's about fall to her impending doom... until ran intuitively grabs her arm and tries to save her:

you'd think that shinichi would urge ran to let go, cause that's what any rational person would do, right? but he doesn't. instead he assists ran. again, WHY?

because... they can't fucking help themselves. because THAT'S JUST WHO THEY ARE.

shinichi and ran are completely led by their intuition, optimism and idealism. nobody values justice, courage and human life the way do, it's in their bones and hearts, it's not something they grow into, it's in their nature.

their spiritual connection is their most defining quality as a couple and it's the reason why i'm convinced that shinran is gosho's best written ship and beyond that, one of the most brilliantly written romances of all time.

it's difficult to do shinran justice in condensed essays like this, but i hope i was able to illustrate their amazing personalities and offer some insight into their captivating bond.

it's why i've been closely following their story since my early childhood. they have the same effect on me they have on other dcmk characters. shinichi and ran inspire me, they touch my soul and restore my faith in people. they're not just a cute couple - they're a symbol of hope.

vermouth puts it best:

visit the shinran library for more

[wolfies-toys]

it is finally time to post my backpack pattern! i've been meaning to do this for a while! so if you'd like to try sew your own plush backpack i've drawn up a basic pattern i've been using that should be easy to edit to suit whatever shape you'd like. Please note i'm a newby at making patterns that are readable to others so apologies if it's a little messy. This pattern is intended for personal use only, i would love to see what people make if you do give it a go! Pattern and basic walkthrough images will be under the cut!

here is the basic pattern! it's very simple and i've written some rough instructions onto the pieces themselves as well. note that the side darts on the front of the bag can be completely ignored if you like. it just adds some extra shaping but isnt strictly necessary.

if you want to resize it should be relatively straightforward to, just adjust overall shape and size to your liking, i would recommend printing out the pattern and seeing how it sizes to your plush of choice, this pattern makes a backpack the size of what twig the bright orange fox is wearing in the photo, it is quite wideset, and will fit most bears but will be a little wide for something like a medium bashful jellycat. for something like a medium bashful i would suggest reducing the size overall of the main bag and keeping the bag strap length mostly the same. please note you will loose some length in the overall bag chamber once the flap is added. the most important things to keep in mind when resizing is width and bag strap length.

first you will want to cut out all your pattern pieces, first starting with the straps, fold in half and sew along the long edge, then turn the resulting tube through.

once your bag strap is turned through position the strap flat down on the sewing machine and sew along both edges to help it sit flat, you can iron the strap beforehand too if it's giving you a bit of trouble staying in position. that should leave you with two flat backpack straps! if you dont want to go to this trouble to make the straps, you can also just use some ribbon or elastic and skip this step

next you will want to sew on the little bit of velcro to the lining of the bag flap. and then to the corresponding front of the bag both while they are not sewn to anything else so it will hide the stitches.

then if you have cut the darts sew closed the darts on both the outer front and lining front. if you havent added the darts you can just skip this step.

you then want to sew together the bag flap lining and outside piece, making sure you sew inside out and then turn through.

pin or clip your main bag chamber lining together, i've found if using cotton you will loose a little length on the back piece if you sewed the darts, once sewn you can just cut the excess off.

next sew the outer back and front together, leaving little gaps at the lower corners for the bag straps to be sewn in place, then poke them evenly through the holes and sew them in place.

Turn through the main outer bag chamber, place the lining inside, and fold the edges of the front together, sew the front edge closed, leaving the back open for now

next you place the open end of the flap in between the lining and outer back of the bag and fold the edges of the lining and outer back together with the flap in the center, pin in place but dont sew it up just yet.

once that is positioned you can bring the bag straps up to the fold and place them inbetween the flap and the outer back, and make sure they arent twisted. then you can sew it together.

you should then have a finished plushie backpack that you can decorate with mini pins, bead keychains or just keep plain, and fill with lots of treasures from your plushies travels!

[cycat-carisi]

Take From Me My Lace

Pairing: Hetty x Trevor

Summary: Trevor learns about Hetty's most well-kept secret. (Takes place sometime before "Holes Are Bad".)

Tags/warnings: Spoilers for CBS Ghosts 3x08 "Holes Are Bad", some pg content, (implied) suicide.

Words: 1026

A/N: Heyyo! I'm new around here *waves frantically* I've been watching the show casually for 2 seasons. A rerun of the episode where Pete meets his grandkid SOLD me hard, and then the whole Tretty/H-Money affair started up, and I was a total goner, lol.

After watching "Holes Are Bad" I'm on the side that's convinced that Trevor knew. The look on his face, I think, is more sympathetic as if he's sad on her behalf that she had to reveal her secret, and not even on her own time. And when the other ghosts talk to Trevor afterwards, it feels like he's covering up what he knew.

So yeah, long story short, all of that inspired this little fic thing. I have not read any other fics in this fandom yet, but needed to get this out in the world to help kick off my full-blown obsession 😁🫶🏼

AO3: link (or below the cut!)

The pulse point just beneath her jawline.

He would never admit it out loud, but that was Trevor's favourite place to kiss Hetty. He loved that spot because his tender touch would send her eyes fluttering shut amidst hushed moans.

At first Hetty was apprehensive when Trevor's lips would trail close to the intricate neckline of her dress. Yet, as their relationship progressed, Hetty allowed Trevor to explore more and more of the places she had never let anyone else reach.

Still, most nights she would redirect Trevor's affections when his lips strayed even a little too far down towards the lacy seam. Trevor initially wrote off the abrupt change simply as Hetty's insatiable passion taking over, until one night he finally learned the truth.

"Mmm, Trevor," Hetty sighs, her voice heavy with sleep. Limbs tangled with hers, Trevor continues his ministrations, enjoying the feel of her soft murmurs echoing under his lips. "Ready for round two, are we?" quips the Victorian woman as she rouses from her slumber.

"Just lemme make you feel good instead," Trevor insists as he finds the spot beneath Hetty's ear that makes her keen.

She instantly gives in when his hand trails up the front of her corset, arriving to cradle her face. His thumb rubs delicately along the apple of her cheek while Trevor leans overtop his lover to place a languid kiss to her plush lips.

Hetty arches into the kiss, groaning when Trevor begins to trail his lips down to her pulse point. One of her hands grips his shoulder while the other seeks purchase in his styled hair. "Don't stop," she whispers when Trevor suckles lightly on the tender flesh beneath her jawline. And who is he to say no?

Trevor moves his lips inch by tantalizing inch along her neck, pausing to nip and lave his tongue over her ivory skin. He works further down towards the delicate lacework, and this time, without realization, Hetty tilts her head back to grant her lover greater access.

With her fiery red tresses pressed into the pillow, Trevor takes advantage, soothing her features with his thumb and slowly navigating his fingertips underneath the lace.

He feels it at the same time that she does.

Hetty's bright eyes fly open. She recoils, panic surging through her as she scoots herself up towards the headboard.

Trevor pulls back, startled; concern is written all over his face. "Hetty," he speaks gently. "What was that?"

The Victorian woman's vision turns glassy. She has kept her secret for so long, and now she has slipped up. She could lie. She could run. She could get angry at her pantless, horny lover. But she knows that none of those options would be fair. She is just as responsible for their affair as he is, and she concedes that this moment was ultimately inevitable.

Hetty swallows hard; fear and something akin to defeat are etched deep into her features.

Trevor leans in cautiously, his hand coming to rest reassuringly upon her clothed thigh. He sits patiently, waiting for her to be ready to speak.

"Ohh hoo," she exhales shakily, shifting to sit up further. His dark eyes never leave hers as she does. Except instead of speaking, Hetty simply reaches upwards, and her nimble fingers work to roll down the lacy fabric.

Trevor's brows pinch, and his heart sinks when the bruises and golden cord come into view.

Hetty scrunches her eyes closed, bracing herself for judgement–for Trevor to draw back in disgust. Instead, a soft voice engulfs her. "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry."

What Hetty sees when she opens her eyes is a handsome face laden with tenderness. There is no aversion, only warmth. And so, Hetty Woodstone, for the first time in the 120 years since her death, confesses the truth surrounding that fateful day.

Trevor listens attentively as the headstrong woman he is familiar with suddenly becomes so vulnerable, revealing her shame and deepest regrets. And as he takes in her words, Trevor feels privileged that Hetty–his Hetty–trusts him enough to bear her soul to him in this way.

Trevor allows her to speak until she has said all that she needs to. And somehow, Hetty finds her hands in his–an anchor to keep her from drifting away.

"Thank you, Trevor," she concludes, voice low and crestfallen. "Thank you for listening."

"You don't have to thank me, Hetty," Trevor soothes. "I just wish you had told me sooner so I could’ve been here for you."

Hetty gazes deeply into Trevor's eyes. Details leading up to his own death had been a secretive topic for the man who hides his compassion beneath a frat-boy persona. Hetty came to understand that part of him, and now Trevor is privy to a similar part of her. "You are here now, and that is more than I could ask for," she replies with a small smile.

Trevor nods, bringing the back of her hand up to his lips.

"Just… please don't let on you know." Hetty whispers, her eyes brimming with the desperation of her plea.

Trevor gives her hands a gentle squeeze. "Your secret is safe with me."

The pair's gazes fix as they drink one another in. The moment is raw, unveiling, and somehow deeply intimate.

Hetty's eyes fall to Trevor's lips. She begins to tilt her body toward his when Trevor decides to break the silence. He wants to hold her, wants to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and to kiss away the pain she has locked deep inside herself. Instead, he murmurs, "Does it still hurt?"

Hetty feels Trevor’s breath tickle her lips. She pauses for a moment before answering solemnly. "A dull ache that never truly leaves."

Hetty nods, and Trevor slowly closes the distance between them. His nose grazes against her jawline before warm lips softly meet the bruises encircling her neck. Trevor's movements are gentle; there is no lust, only affection, and something that borders on the line of love.

Trevor draws nearer. "May I?" He asks, eyelashes flickering as he drags his gaze between her collar and the ocean swirls of her irises.

Feedback is loved 🥰

[literallykenmaandshoyo]

I'll Know

Tendou Satori x Female!Reader

Warnings: Language, outdoor blowjob, creampie, cum swallowing, oral (male and female receiving), lots and lots of praise!! I wrote Satori as reader's first intimate partner! Just smutty smut smut smut lolol

Word Count: 3.3k

Author's note: Oh my god, it's been so so long since I've posted a fic on here this is insane. College and life have been so so hectic and I completely forgot about the page Mod Kenma and I made :,) Mod Kenma is so good with keeping consistent and everything on here and I'm going to try and do the same since I've found myself writing with them a lot more now! I'm so sorry for the long hiatus, but I wrote this fic a couple of weeks ago and thought it would be a nice way to start my comeback! I hope you all know that you're more than welcome to request anything from me, just make sure you specify that you want it written by me haha! I hope you enjoy the smut, I had so much fun writing it!!

I'd love to hear everyone's feedback on this, so don't hesitate to let me know on how I can make things better or if you enjoyed it!

~Mod Shoyo <3

The bright lights of Shiratorizawa’s gym hurt Y/N’s eyes as she walked inside. Today, the volleyball club was going to be hosting a late night practice. Normally, Friday nights were reserved for date nights between Y/N and Satori, but she never ever minded coming to watch Tendou practice. There was no hiding how she really felt about watching him practice.

It got her going.

Something about her tall, lanky boyfriend sweating his ass off playing sports just did something to her. She was well aware of this feeling and found it slightly funny every time Satori tried to push practice to the side for her. “Now, why would you do that, ‘Tori? Volleyball is your passion. I really don’t mind staying for a couple hours to watch you and then getting to hang out with you after!”

Tendou always appreciated Y/N so much more when she said things like that. Little did he know that he was only fueling her drive to chase him. To jump his bones the second that he was finished with his practice. Tonight was no different. Y/N came waltzing into the gym in her black t-shirt dress, her eyes darting across every single body she saw to search for her boyfriend. The second that Tendou noticed her, his posture stiffened and he made a bee-line straight towards her.

“Well, look at you in that black dress of yours,” Tendou flirted, his tone light and playful but his voice was resting in a deeper part of his throat. “Don’t you look delicious.”

Y/N blushed and stood on her tippy toes to kiss him. He smirked against her kiss and brought his right arm around her waist to pull her close to him while his other arm carried his water bottle. The second they pulled away, she could already feel herself getting riled up. His normally spiked up hair was sitting slightly damp now. Most of it was still intact, but some of the front strands were sticking to his forehead, absolutely drenched in sweat.

“How’s practice going, baby?” Y/N smiled, her eyes too focused on his sweat than his actual ruby orbs. 

“Coach had us do some punishments because Goshiki didn’t receive a ball correctly,” Tendou tossed a look over to Goshiki who was cowering in a corner, gripping a ball tightly in between his hands cursing himself. “Other than that, It’s going pretty average.”

Y/N smiled and nodded her head. “Well, go knock ‘em dead baby, I’ll be right here watching!”

Tendou grinned from ear to ear and stooped down to press one last kiss to her lips. As Tendou turned on his heel to start running back, Y/N leaned forward and laid a harsh slap on his ass to motivate him. Tendou turned slowly with a smirk and walked back towards her. He towered over her like a skyscraper, looking down on her with the most shit-eating grin she’d ever seen.

“My turn.”

Before she had any time to think, Satori's hand was unleashing the most pain-inducing, heartstopping, panty dropping slap on her ass. She yelped and listened to the sound echo throughout the gym. His palm remained on her right cheek, she could feel his fingers curl up and feel around. He jumped slightly, then leaned down to get his lips right next to her ear.

“You dirty girl,” He whispered huskily. His voice sent shivers down her spine and she could feel the heat between her legs growing. “No panties huh? And were you thinking about telling me?” Y/N gulped and turned to the side slightly.

“It was supposed to be a surprise after practice.”

Tendou hummed. He turned on his heel once more and walked away. His shoes squeaking against the gym floor slowly dissipating gave her the ‘okay’ to finally relax. Y/N made her way over to one of the courtside benches and took a seat. With her legs crossed, she let her eyes linger on her red-head boyfriend.

The middle blocker was working overtime tonight. His guesses were on point, every single possible hunch he could have had about a spiker’s decisions were completely right. She could only imagine the type of psycho-analysis that was going on in his head right now, how meticulous he had to be in order to block everyone on the other side of the net.

She was wrong.

Tendou was on his game because he knew that she was watching him. He could feel her eyes lingering on him, only paying attention to his movements and no one else’s. Who was she, to sit on that damn bench with no panties on in front of all of his teammates. He could only imagine the juices that were marinating in her cunt right now, he was salivating at the thought of it. His hunger was only fueling his movements, a snide smirk resting on his face. 

One of the managers rushed around giving all of the players’ some towels to wipe themselves off. Once Tendou was handed his own, he turned slightly and noticed Y/N had taken some extra interest in watching him. He scoffed and pressed the towel against his forehead and neck, wiping off all the remnants of his hard work. Y/N licked her lips and didn’t let her gaze falter for a second. Tendou’s legs carried him over towards his girlfriend once more. His aura was radiating pure starvation. He couldn’t even keep eye contact with her for more than a millisecond before letting his eyes drop down to her crossed legs. He could feel himself get hard just knowing that he was the only one that got to spread those legs. To see what was beyond her gorgeous thighs.

He tossed the towel at her nonchalantly. “Hold this for me, would you baby? Just a little while longer.”

Y/N was quick to catch the towel and let it rest in her lap. She could feel herself getting warmer, at this point she started to regret not wearing underwear. She knew that she was going to spill the juices that Satori claimed as his all over the floor once she stood up, but for right now. At this very moment. She could care less. Her mind was turning into mush, and it didn’t help that Tendou would toss her looks in between practice sets.

Her pussy was aching. Tendou had been her very first intimate partner, and she loved the idea that her pussy was molded into a hole that fit his dick perfectly. She was growing more restless by the second, counting down each second that went by that Tendou wasn’t rearranging her intestines. Finally, like a bright light shining down from the heavens, practice was called to an end and everyone started to pack up the equipment and their things. Once everyone was finally done with their chores, Tendou slowly made his way back to his girlfriend.

“Can I see that towel in your lap, pretty girl?” Tendou grinned, holding his hand out in front of her. She nodded and dropped the towel into his palm. “Thank you darling~”

As Tendou wiped his face again, Y/N was fuming. Her entire body was quivering with nothing short of pure lust for Satori. And the worst part of it all, was she knew that he was teasing her. He was dragging his feet when he walked, he was taking his time to get each individual bead of sweat off of his face, he knew that she was dying for his touch.

“Alright baby, let’s go. Are you ready?” Y/N didn’t give him any time to change his mind. She was off the bench and ready to go with her purse at the sound of his voice.

Tendou chuckled and draped an arm loosely around her shoulders, pulling her close to him as he slung his duffel bag over his left shoulder. They had finally made it outside the gym. Sure, they only took one step outside, but Y/N was practically dizzy with how much fresh air was hitting her face right now. Before they could walk any further, Tendou stopped them both in their tracks.

“Oops! I forgot my jacket on the bench, I’ll be right back love,”

Y/N was fed up. She was seething, begging to be touched and he kept setting them back. She looked to her left and noticed a corner that the lights weren’t hitting. She moved into the shadows and waited patiently for Tendou’s figure to walk out the door. After watching most of his teammates leave with their bags and set off on their journey’s back home, Y/N was ready to get what she wanted.

The second she could smell his after-practice musk, she grabbed hold of his arm and yanked him into the corner with her. Tendou looked down at her with a cocky smirk and raised an eyebrow. “And what’s this about?” She looked up into his fiery ruby orbs and made no sound.

Her fingers grabbed hold of the band of his practice shorts and looped a finger into the band of his briefs before using all the strength she had to yank them down his legs. His cock sprung to life before her very eyes and she found some sort of relief in knowing that he was just as worked up as she was. She licked her lips and nearly drooled at his feet just at the mere sight. His tip was swollen, his shaft curved upwards, it was a gorgeous sight to see. Tendou gulped before finally speaking.

“Suck it.”

Y/N had already gathered up all the spit she could in her mouth. She spat onto his cock and didn’t even bother to start to stroke him. She took his entire dick in her mouth and felt his tip hit the back of her mouth. She had no strength to push her legs together anymore and slowly just let them spread apart. Her knees were starting to burn from the small rocks and pebbles that had littered the sidewalk, but she was too busy drowning in her horniness to care. The guttural groan that left Tendou’s mouth as she deep throated him was enough to send her over the edge. Her head was bobbing up and down his shaft, her lips gliding across his drenched cock.

“Fu-fuck baby. Take this cock like a good girl,” Tendou sighed heavily. “Fuck, you suck me off so good baby.”

The words of encouragement egged her on, pushing her to grip whatever wasn’t covered by her mouth with her hands and begin to stroke while she sucked. Tendou nearly banged his head into the wall from the immense pleasure that took over him. He was trying so hard not to cum down her throat as fast as he wanted to. Y/N knew that he was holding himself back, but she didn’t bother to berate him or tease him for it. What mattered was that she had his cock in her mouth and she was going to swallow every last drop of cum he had to offer.

She could feel him twitch in her mouth, every vein that was ready to burst getting eased with the coolness of her saliva. She deep throated once more and felt some pre-cum slide down her tongue. She pulled her mouth off of his dick, still stroking him with one hand while she popped his cleanly shaven balls in her mouth. Tendou clamped a hand over his mouth to try and prevent the loud groan that fell from his lips; even covered by his hand his moan was loud enough to get some stares.

Y/N moved back up to eye-level with his cock and spread her hot mouth all over it once more. She bobbed her head as fast as she could, feeling his dick twitch faster than before. It wasn’t until Tendou’s sweet groan entered her ears that she realized he had painted the back of her throat with his cum. She pulled herself off of his dick for the last time, snot falling from her nose, tears falling from her damp eyelashes and down her swollen cheeks. 

Tendou looked down and moved her loose hair out of her face, watching her tongue fall out of her mouth still covered in his cum. Within a second, she swallowed whatever of his load was leftover in her mouth and let her body slump. Tendou noticed her relaxed nature and immediately lifted her up into his arms.

“Don’t think this is over. I’m going to fuck the shit out of you when we get back to my dorm.” Y/N laid in his arms completely lifeless, her mind still only focused on the pleasure she had given her boyfriend just now. 

She had no concept of time, or even realized how much time she had taken to suck him off outside of the gym, but none of it mattered. It wasn’t until he threw her onto his bed that she snapped back to reality. Her hair was a mess, her face was flushed with a red color, her legs could barely stay closed. Tendou was huffing, heavily breathing as he threw his shirt over his head and tugged his boxers down once more. He didn’t bother to take Y/N’s dress off. What was the point if he had easy access anyways?

“I’m going to fuck the shit out of this pussy,” Tendou growled, pressing lazy kisses to the sides of her neck. “My pussy.”

Y/N’s ears were ringing. The second she felt his lips on her neck her entire body went into shock. She felt so sensitive, anywhere he touched immediately made her quiver. She wanted to take every piece of clothing off of her, she felt like she was roasting in 100 degree summer heat. Tendou’s long, slender fingers wrapped around her knees and yanked her legs apart. His eyes widened and he stared at her glistening pussy like it was a gift given to him by god. And it was. Tendou licked his lips and fell to his knees. He gripped the backs of her legs and pulled her to the edge of his bed, her pussy right in his face. 

He wasted no time in diving his tongue in between her folds. The tip of his tongue flicked her clit before gathering up some of her wetness like a spoon. He was eating her up like a starved man, smacking his lips and burying his face in her. Her noises were enough to wake up every single member of his team in the building, but that was the least of his worries. He had a cunt, shining with pure excitement  under the lights right in front of him, and it was all his. His dick was so painfully hard and he wanted nothing more than to just slam it inside of her, but she was dying to suck him off, and he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t dying to feast on her pussy.

“Te-Tendou, please,” Y/N whined. “Please just fuck me, I-I can’t take it anymore.” Her words stopped his actions. She whined from the loss of friction and his swift motions.

He stood up and wiped his mouth of whatever juices she left on his lips. He had never heard anything more sexy than her pleads for him to fuck her in all his life. He smiled from ear to ear and came down to press his lips onto hers. “Whatever you want, baby. Your wish is my command.”

Tendou lined himself up with her entrance. He slowly started to push his tip into her. Once just his tip had been swallowed by her cunt, he grabbed hold of her hips tightly and bucked his hips so hard into hers that she nearly screamed. The harsh slap of his balls slapping against her skin made a clapping noise, and he started to pound into her like his life depended on it. The sound of her loud moans only fueled him to keep drilling his cock into her. He leaned down and buried his face in her chest, loving the feeling of her tits bouncing in his face. He pulled himself out of her and lifted her into his arms. He sat down on the edge of his bed and sat her on his lap. Y/N got the picture and quickly slammed herself onto his dick. 

“God damn, Y/N. Ride this dick, take this dick like a good girl.”

Y/N sank her teeth into his shoulder as she bounced up and down on his cock. She could feel the coil in her stomach slowly unraveling with every slap their sweaty bodies made. She pulled her face out of his neck to see that his eyebrows were furrowed, the groans leaving his mouth nearly making her cream on their own. Tendou grabbed a fistful of her hair into a makeshift ponytail and held it up for her, the breeze that hit her neck sending goosebumps down her hot skin.

Tendou could feel that she had gotten tired of picking herself up, his hands moved down to her hips and gripped them so hard that she was sure his fingers would be bruised into her skin. He held her up and thrusted as fast as he could, his balls slapping against the bottom of her ass with every move. Y/N dug her nails into his back, sure that she drew blood with how hard she was holding him.

She lowered herself back down onto him once more and simply served as a hole for him to fuck himself with. He moved her at his own tempo, lifting her body up and down his cock with the strength he had. Her legs quivered and she could feel herself getting close.

“To- Tori, I’m gonna,” She couldn’t even finish her sentence before it was drowned out with the harmonious sounds of their moans joining together.

“Let it go love, cream all over this cock for me.” Tendou practically yelled through clenched teeth. 

Within seconds, both of their moans joined together once more for a grand finale. Y/N’s body fell limp, her bare chest resting on top of his. Tendou was still twitching inside of her, his hands coming up to caress her back lovingly. After a few minutes that way, Y/N finally sat up to pull herself off of his dick. The sight she was met with nearly made her want him to fuck her again, but she was far too tired.

Satori’s ruby eyes focused on her pussy as she pulled herself off. Strands of their combined cum looked like strings holding their two bodies together. Y/N relaxed and Tendou could see a cluster of his cum slide out of her pussy and down the sides of her legs.

Tendou reached into his drawer and grabbed some cool wet wipes to clean themselves off, he handled his lover with such care, feeling her jump every time he brought the wipe anywhere near her still sensitive pussy. Tendou moved every article of clothing that sat on top of his covers off and threw it somewhere into the corner of the room. He grabbed Y/N’s waist and pulled her next to him, helping her get under the covers and into his arms.

“That’s probably the best sex we have ever had.”

Y/N nodded, barely able to catch her breath. “I feel so much better now,”

Tendou just chuckled and pressed his lips lazily against her own. “I love you baby, with all of my heart. Thank you for always being so devoted to pleasuring me.”

She smiled and pressed a kiss against his lips before nuzzling into his neck. “I love you Satori,”

The two of them yawned, falling asleep within seconds. Satori felt his entire body finally truly relax, and knowing that she would be here in his arms in the morning made his sleep that much better.

He thought to himself that maybe every date night should end like this, but he knew he would never hear the end of that conversation.