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lightseoul · 11 days ago

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CHAPTER 1 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.3k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, this chapter is pretty mild so not many tags are necessary ig?

a/n. thank you to everyone who's shown excitement for this series so far! i see you all, and i appreciate each and every one of you ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ and i'd love to hear from you as we go through this process together!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think someone with a time-slowing quirk is manipulating this shoebox of a room they unceremoniously stuffed you in with nothing but this middle-aged, bearded man roughly 30 minutes ago.

If 30 minutes is even an accurate approximation.

The said man is clicking away at his keyboard behind the desk in front of you, humming a non-descript tune, and, having already studied the room that seems to be an abandoned office, you take the opportunity to clock him. Aside from being around his mid-40s and sporting a full-grown beard, there’s something about him that rings the metaphorical alarms in your mind, signaling some sense of familiarity.

And it’s either you need to work on your subtlety or he’s just plain out observant, because he must have noticed your staring, shifting his gaze from his laptop screen toward you, mouth formed in a friendly smile. “Getting antsy?”

“I—” you start, before trailing off. You weigh your options for a second, before settling with: “It’s hard not to be, sir. Would you care to tell me what I’m here for?”

At that, the man merely purses his lips in a thin line. “Unfortunately, it’s not my place to say. I was just assigned to meet you here. At least,” he checks his silver-plated watch, “until further company arrives.”

You feel yourself frown. “And the men who arrived out of nowhere and fetched me from my apartment?”

He nods, “They were simply assigned to get you, yes.”

A burning question bubbles right up your throat, but you tamp it down, thinking better against it. It’s too soon, you think. You have to dig a bit deeper. And so instead, you finally prod at that inkling from a moment ago that’s been vying for your attention.

“Have we met before, sir?”

That must’ve been the right thing to ask, because the man visibly lights up. He swivels on his office chair, turning a bit so that he’s now fully facing you. “Why, yes! I thought you wouldn’t remember.”

You toss him the most genuine smile you can muster back in courtesy, but also to goad him into continuing. You hope that’s enough for now. “From a while back, right?”

“Yes!” he enthusiastically responds, whatever document he was working on now completely forgotten. “I was one of your earliest escorts until the commission relocated me overseas. I just got reassigned to you for this project, you see.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

However, you don’t get to revel in how you successfully coaxed information and confirmation out of him without lifting much of a finger, because he quickly realizes his mistake. He splutters as you watch the blood drain from his face, and you can’t help but feel bad for the man.

“Don’t worry,” you offer with that placating tone you’ve mastered over the years. “I won’t tell them you just said all that.”

He eyes you suspiciously, as if he’s debating whether or not you’re saying the truth, and you’ve half a mind to use it on him just so that the sole person you’re stuck in this jail-like space isn’t looking at you like you’re after his head, but you don’t get past considering that because the only set of doors bursts open and in comes an all-too-familiar face.

The both of you whip away from your stare down to look at the unannounced guest, and you instantly stiffen when you get a good look at the person leading the group.

Clad in a two-piece slate gray suit, the head of the Special Quirks department of Japan’s Hero Commission waltzes in, seemingly decades older than the last time you saw him. It hasn’t even been five years since, you think, yet he’s aged so much. Trailing right behind him is the woman you vaguely remember trailblazing the Missions committee, hair pinned up in a no-nonsense low bun and sporting a navy blazer and skirt combo.

And, perhaps in an effort to ground yourself in the face of impending danger that always came with the two, you’re about to look down at what you’re wearing in comparison, which, you recall is a baggy T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants you never intended for people to see you wear, when it happens.

You lock eyes with the third and last person entering the room, and instantly it’s like you’re doused with a sobering bucket of ice-cold water at the same time someone lights a fire under your ass. One glimpse at his firey gaze has your brain screaming at you to look away—anywhere, anywhere but at him— and pretend that didn’t just happen all the while mentally willing him away from existence, but you find yourself frozen in your seat.

Bakugou, who’s dressed casually in a plain black shirt and loose jeans, stares right back as he follows the two officials. You’re the first one to break eye contact, and words aren’t uttered as the guy from earlier scurries out of his seat, offering it to Asahi, the man in the gray suit, who accepts it thanklessly. Moriyama takes the seat the underling drags next to Asahi, and Bakugou plops himself down on the one around a foot to your left, the both of you now facing them.

“Thank you, Tanaka-san,” Asahi says, finally breaking the silence. The familiar escort who you now remember as Tanaka only bows at him, before standing silently to the side.

At that, Asahi shifts to regard you, the corners of his lips twisting upwards in what you think is an effort to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. With both arms on top of the hardwood desk and hands clasped together, he clears his throat.

He says your name as a start, which sends an eerie tingle down your spine. “Long time no see, huh?”

You don’t know how to reply to that, also acutely aware of the man beside you, so you merely nod.

“We apologize for dragging you here on your day off,” he continues, “It must’ve been quite jarring—having our men be at your doorstep.”

You fight back the urge to ask him how the hell he knows it’s your day off today, deciding in the last second you don’t want to know the answer. Frankly, you wouldn’t be shocked if he said they’d been keeping tabs on you and that they even know what brand of underwear you wear.

“I was surprised, I’m not gonna lie,” you respond, voice small. And just because you’re over this whole suspense factor, you cut to the chase. “What’s this all about, Asahi-san?”

“Skipping the pleasantries, aren’t we?” he chuckles, and you resist the itch to scowl at him. You never liked the guy—although you think it must have to do with all those extreme assessments he made you take growing up. To your relief, though, he relents. “I’ll get straight to it, then. We have an important mission for you.”

And as if you weren’t already stiff enough, you feel yourself tense even more, and the action doesn’t go missed by Bakugou, whose eyes you feel boring into the side of your face.

Asahi takes your stunned silence as a cue for him to go on. His gaze drifts to the pro-hero beside you, a knowing smirk decorating his features. “I trust that you’ve met?”

Despite yourself, you chance a glance at the ash-blonde, only to find him already looking at you. You feel yourself flame as he studies you with mild recognition, as if he’s seen you before but can’t quite figure out where.

Bakugou finally speaks up after a beat, voice gruff and eyes remaining locked on yours. “UA Gen Ed, same batch as me, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you reply dumbly, surprised he even remembers. “And you’re pro-hero Dynamight.”

To that, he gives you a curt nod, donning a serious expression as he turns back to face Asahi. “Go on and brief her about it already. I ain’t got all day.”

“We’re getting to that, Bakugou,” the old-ish man retorts, seemingly unfazed by the pro-hero’s impatience, before readjusting his focus to you. “As I’ve said, we’re assigning you to a very crucial mission. We got word yesterday that an up-and-rising quirk supremacist group is planning an attack somewhere in the city.”

“A-attack?” you croak, “Who’re they gonna attack?”

“That we’re not sure yet,” Moriyama joins in on the conversation, her countenance stern. “But we’re guessing quirkless individuals or people with weak quirks. We won’t know for sure, though, unless we get people on the inside.”

“And that’s where you two come in,” Asahi finishes, eyes darting back and forth between you and the man beside you. “You’re going undercover.”

You gawk at him, suddenly robbed of all words. From the corner of your vision, you sense Bakugou side-eye you, and that’s all the warning you get for what he’s about to say next.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, prominently exasperated by the entire situation. “‘s like you’re feeding a sheep to the fucking wolves.”

Instantly, you feel a sense of indignation wash over you at the comment, which is immediately followed by the familiar feeling of resignation.

You’ve gone through these motions before. Over and over again, in fact.

And normally, you’d let snide comments about the status of quirk slide, like you’ve been taught to the entirety of your life, but apparently this time that’s not an option.

Because Moriyama gives him a pointed look, as if chastising him on your behalf. You don’t dare to check how Bakugou’s receiving it, but you’re assuming not well.

But before the pro-hero can say something in his defense or provoke the woman, Asahi interjects with a good-natured laugh. “Slow down there, hero. Don’t get too cocky now that you just got named Vogue Japan’s Bachelor of the Year.”

Bakugou doesn’t miss a beat. “Shut the fuck up.”

With a dismissive wave of a hand, Asahi continues. “And no, I am not making a reckless move here,” the middle-aged man peers at you, “This woman right here has a special quirk.”

At that, you steal a glance at Bakugou, and the look on his face betrays the thing he’s evidently trying hard not to say.

‘What’s so special about this girl from Gen Ed?’

He manages not to blurt that out, though, instead going for: “How special?”

“Let’s just say it’s because of her that departments like mine exist in the commission.”

“Quit being fucking cryptic,” Bakugou spits out, just as you say: “It’s really not that special, though.”

That catches his attention, and you feel yourself shrink when his intense, crimson eyes land on you. You, however, fight to maintain his scrutinizing gaze when he pipes up. “What can you do, huh?”

“I—”

“How ‘bout you show him, dear?” Moriyama cuts you off with a knowing smile.

You don’t get to argue because the woman promptly sends Tanaka off to the door, and the four of you watch the guy as he rushes out, leaving you in a few moments of silence, before hurriedly walking back in with a nervous-looking young man in tow.

You decide then and there that you really don’t want to do this.

“An intern, Moriyama-san,” Tanaka announces in front of you with a booming voice, gesturing to the person beside him. “Just as you requested.”

“The hell do we nee—”

“Go on, Y/N,” Asahi encourages with a quiet voice, which you note is in an attempt to not be heard by the poor intern.

The poor intern who’s gaping at #2 pro-hero Dynamight, looking like his soul just left his lean body.

Your gaze shifts between the pro-hero and the young man, and you sit watching the silent exchange unfold before you. You can tell Bakugou is getting annoyed by the unabashed attention of someone who’s likely a fan, and the latter isn’t looking all too hot.

And so with reluctance, you do it.

“Hey,” you call out to the intern, who whips to look at you after another attempt when he doesn’t respond to the first.

“Wha—” he starts, but trails off when you decisively tug on the imaginary strings, and in a split second, it’s like the nerves that were just frying his system a beat ago get washed off his body, his face morphing to that of tranquil calmness in a blink of an eye.

You toss him a tight-lipped smile as he stares right back at you, serene and perhaps a tad bit confused, although you doubt someone not privy to your ability could recognize it on his face.

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

You turn to look at Asahi, who’s now leaning back on the office chair with a proud grin on his face, as if he’s the one who just did the demonstration.

You try to suppress the mild annoyance at the sight of him.

You reason to yourself that he’s the one who made all this possible, after all. He deserves to be proud of the stunt you just pulled, at least to some extent.

And just as quickly as he entered, the intern is promptly ushered out of the area by Tanaka. Once the door clicks closed, you then shift to examine Bakugou, who you quickly find is already staring at you, an inexplicable expression etched across his sharp features.

“You make people calm, is that it?”

“Oh, she can do much more than that, boy,” Asahi boasts. “She has the ability to tamper with any person’s emotions. She can diffuse or exacerbate existing ones or transform them into another affect entirely.”

“But very few people know that, Bakugou,” Moriyama adds with a warning edge to her tone. “It’s why the commission took her under its wing at such a young age. It’s why—”

“You disguised her quirk as something else and made her take the Gen Ed route.” Bakugou finishes with such certainty that catches you off guard, despite being well-versed in the fact that he is insanely perceptive.

You would know. Really, you would.

Because that’s one of the main reasons why you liked—

“It’s so that the wrong people don’t catch wind of her and her quirk, Bakugou,” Asahi supplements. “It’s for that very reason we’ve named her quirk as luck instead of manipulation. Which is what you’re going to do undercover.”

“What’s he gonna do, exactly?” you ask, tilting your head to gesture to the pro-hero beside you.

“He’ll infiltrate the group alongside you, dear,” Moriyama answers. “He’s one of the best heroes we have, and well…”

She glances at Bakugou with such hesitance that juxtaposes the confidence she’s been sporting this entire exchange, before continuing. “…We’ve heard this group has been eyeing to recruit Bakugou, specifically.”

You almost choke on your spit.

Recruit the #2 pro-hero of Japan?

What kind of stupid agenda is that?

To your surprise, Bakugou doesn’t say anything in response to Moriyama’s weighty statement, his usually penetrating gaze fixed on the ground.

“He’ll make sure you’ll be safe, Y/N,” Asahi furthers. “He’ll introduce you to them as a useful tool, what with your ‘luck’, which you’ll tell them works by boosting the chances of success of the people you’re working with. And, given how your quirk actually operates, Bakugou here will emphasize your importance by requesting for their protection of you, so that you can get closer to the people you’ll need to manipulate.”

“How’s he gonna do that without raising suspicion?” you can’t help but ask.

“That’s the thing,” Asahi quips, before heaving a deep sigh. “At this point, there’s no saying for sure, but you’re gonna have to be ready to play the part of a couple if the situation calls for it.”

“A c-couple?” you barely manage to get out.

To that, Asahi and Moriyama only nod at you with such seriousness that you can’t find it in you to protest any further. Still, you try to express your uneasiness.

“I don’t know—if I can pull that off. I—”

“You have your quirk at your disposal, Y/N,” Moriyama assures you, to your chagrin. “You’ve trained hard enough to know when and how to use it.”

Well.

There’s not much left for you to do than nod in resignation, especially with the finality of her tone, so you do just that.

None of you says anything for a brief moment after that, a rather tense silence enveloping the tiny office. And you’re about to ask them one more time if they’re fucking sure about all this, but Asahi beats you to it.

“Do either of you have any more questions?”

You open your mouth to try again but this time Bakugou speaks first. “I do. Let’s say shit goes down and we have to engage this shitty ass group in combat. Does she know how to fight? You know, beyond just playing with emotions?”

You feel yourself bristle, and before your brain can catch up and rein you in, your mouth is already running off. “I’ve had extensive close-combat training, actually. So worry about saving your own ass, hero.”

Bakugou doesn’t get the chance to spew something right back at you, though, because Asahi cuts the tension with a booming laugh. “She actually has, Bakugou. Like I said, we’ve been training her since her quirk manifested.”

“Really?” he asks, a little bit too sarcastically for your taste. “And what’s in it for you, huh, Y/N?” the pro-hero turns to regard you, tone riddled with just enough taunt to make your blood simmer. “Why’re you going along with their whim?”

“They pay well,” you state as simply as you can. “My job as a guidance counselor isn’t exactly the most lucrative.”

“That we do,” Asahi chimes in before Bakugou can drop any borderline degrading remark, which you’re thankful for. You don’t know if you can handle any more backhanded comments from the man you used to fucking dream about way back in high school, who—apparently—also happens to be the man you’re gonna have to pretend you’re dating if things go south.

“If you don’t have any more questions,” Moriyama interjects, “There’s one last thing. We don’t expect them to go lax on either of you despite what you can bring to the table. So anticipate restrictions on your speech and movements—there’s a high probability that they’re gonna place bugs and trackers on you. The same goes for your online footprint.”

At that, you and Bakugou wordlessly nod in unison, the gravity of what you’re about to get yourself into finally sinking in. Shortly after, Moriyama goes through a few more technical details before announcing that they have another meeting to attend, and just like that, and with a promise to get in touch soon albeit clandestinely, she and Asahi exit from the very door they entered what seemed like an eternity ago.

Leaving you and Bakugou.

Alone.

Which is something you’re going to have to get used to for what lies ahead.

But that shit can wait until tomorrow, when the mission officially starts.

And so with much vigor, you quickly gather the purse you barely managed to bring with you when you got dragged out of your apartment earlier this evening, and stand. Bakugou’s head tilts up to look at you when you turn to regard him, an eyebrow raised in question.

“What?”

You force a smile. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Bakugou-san.” Not. “See you tomorrow, then.”

And, before he can say anything in return, you spin on your heel and leave without looking back.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3

#so much to unpack y'all #bkg's going through it!!!#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #mha imagines #bnha imagines #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n

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akakay31 · 9 months ago

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So much for Legends Celebi or B3W3, lmao.

But for real, before anyone starts theorizing about ultimate weapons or ancient wars in Pokémon Legends ZA, there are a few important things to consider first:

1. The game will be set entirely in Lumiose City.

A bit disappointing, though Lumiose is already a big place, and it’ll only be bigger now that it’s the central focus. A smaller scope will also probably mean a higher-quality product in the end, too. Though it does makes me wonder how catching wild Pokémon will work within an urban city. Maybe the game will be more battle-focused, as opposed to the catching-focused Legends Arceus.

2. The game will (almost certainly) not be about the events of 3,000 years ago.

If it wasn’t already obvious by the limited setting, Legends ZA will most likely have little to do with the events of the ancient war and ultimate weapon. If it’s anything like Legends Arceus, Legends ZA will instead be set in a period based on the latter half of the 19th century, soon after the invention of Poké Balls. Anything set before this period would predate the invention of Poké Balls, and thus have to have drastic changes to its gameplay, which is something I just don’t see happening.

And we know that Legends Arceus is set during the mid-to-late 1800s because of the events it is based on, i.e. the Japanese annexation of Hokkaido in 1869, as well as the subsequent colonization efforts.

Similarly, we can guess that Legends ZA will be set during this same period because of the event it is seemingly based on, Georges-Eugène Haussmann’s renovation of Paris from 1850 to 1870.

For those unaware, Haussmann’s renovation was an urban renewal project, commissioned by Emperor Napoleon III, that included the demolition of old medieval neighborhoods, the annexation of surrounding suburbs, the construction of new sewers, etc. The renovation was extremely unpopular, what with the whole bulldozing thousands of houses and replacing them with standardized streets and buildings thing, resulting in Haussmann’s dismissal in 1870. However, work on his plans continued until 1927, and ultimately are what made Paris what it is today.

While Legends ZA likely won’t go too far into the nitty-gritty of the real-world events, knowing what the game will be drawing from is essential for any speculation on what we can expect to see.

In fact, using this same method, we can probably even guess what future Legends games will be like by looking for historical events during the mid-to-late 1800s period. Take Unova, for example, which could…

Oh.

Oh no.

#honestly this could all be just blatantly wrong #but it was still worth it for the setup #pokemon #pokemon legends #pokemon legends za #pokemon legends z-a #pokemon legends zygarde #pokemon legends arceus #game freak #nintendo #theory

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dearsnow · 5 months ago

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TAKE A BITE

- your best friends challenge you to bring the hottest guy at the bar home, and you can’t manage to say no. (jake “hangman” seresin x fem!reader, random original female characters for plot purposes, ⚠️ alcohol, 18+!! adult content, p in v, jake being a sweetheart for once, I’M BEGGING PLEASE BE 18)

word count: 3,033

a/n - dipping my toe into the adult writing scene for once 😚 i have no idea if this is good or not bc my only experience is one commission i did a long time ago and a half-finished fic from a year ago, so i hope it’s satisfactory. jake is also an unexpected visitor but everyone has their moments <3

“So…” Kaiya drawls, drawing along the rim of her condensation-covered glass, “because no one here seems to want to put themselves out there,” there’s a pointed glance at you, “I propose a challenge.”

Sandy squints at her suspiciously. Kaiya always comes up with the most outrageous schemes, usually drawing in you and the rest of your friend group. “What are you thinking?” She asks.

Kaiya’s manicured nail taps on the table. “We each pick a guy, one that individual thinks is the hottest at the bar— first come first serve, of course. And then we take them home. Anyone that’s successful gets next week’s drinks paid for by the rest of us.”

You roll your eyes. She’s a looker, for sure, which is likely the only reason she proposed something like this. She could get with any guy in a hundred mile radius with her luscious black curls and babydoll cheeks. “Are you sure you aren’t just doing this because you don’t want to pay for yourself?”

Kaiya puts one hand to her mouth, eyes widened in comical horror. “I would never! I just want what’s best for my dear friends.” She exclaims, batting her eyes. Sandy laughs in her own charming way. Sandy is cute, sweet. She’d also have no problem taking her pick.

“I want that one.” Kaiya says, pointing at a tall man with shortly cropped curls. From the looks of it, he’s exactly her type; confident, quick-witted, and evidently skilled as he nails a dart throw.

Sandy pretends to squint around the bar before throwing a thumb over her freckled shoulder. “Buzz cut. I like that in a man.” You peer around her, taking in a nice-looking guy with tanned skin.

“And you?” Kaiya asks, reaching out to thumb at the strap of your top. Her small look of concern makes you remember why you’re her friend in the first place.

She’s always looking out for you, always finding opportunities for you to shine when she is so obviously the star. After you broke up with your boyfriend for some unsavory reasons, she resumed her role as your rock. Even now, she wants you to get over what’s in the past. You curse yourself for even considering that she was being selfish.

You look around the crowded bar, eyes scanning over heaps of mildly attractive Navy and civilian men. You’re about to just pick the closest one before your gaze stops on a person who almost immediately takes your breath away. He’s exactly, exactly what you pictured your dream guy to look like.

Kaiya follows your line of sight and smiles. “Let’s get them, tigers.”

“Alright,” You say, standing as your chair creaks from under you, “I’ll take a bite.”

You lean against the cool counter of the bar, smiling at the bartender. The man you picked out has a beer in his hand and a certain swagger in how he scopes out the room. “Could I have one of those, please?” You ask the woman behind the bar, looking pointedly at the guy. She looks at you with a knowing smile, handing you the drink.

“You have good taste.” Your pick says, his voice heavy with a drawl. His green eyes glance down at the drink in your hand, then up to your face. You swear you almost see him lick his lips.

“So do you.” You respond simply. “What’s your name?”

“Jake, but if one of those idiots asks, it’s Hangman.” He nods over to a group of men by the pool table. In a passing flash, you notice the two your friends picked out mingling. How could this one squad have so many attractive people? “I saw you with your friends a bit ago. I have to say, though, you’re more my type. Not that they aren’t nice girls.”

You take a sip of your drink, eyebrows quirked. His arms are basically bulging out of his Navy attire, and you struggle to keep your eyes off of them. Decidedly, you try teasing him, pushing the boundaries of flirting. “You’re my type too. More than the one with the mustache, but he’s not so bad.”

His smile crinkles his eyes, and you think you might swoon. This is good, you tell yourself. It feels good. It’s a bit awkward, with just the slightest bit of tension, but you’re warming up; you just got out of a relationship for god’s sake.

“Trust me, sugar, however good you think he is, I’m better.” He punctuates his sentence with a wink.

You’re drop dead gorgeous, he thinks. Jake meets gorgeous women every day, but not one has made his heart beat just as fast. When you smile up at him through your lashes, he’s done for. Locked, loaded, and done for.

“You’re that confident, hm?” You muse, setting your beer down on the counter. It took a great deal of complacency to not throw yourself at him and wrap yourself in his large hands. He swipes a bead of water off of your bottle, and you think all sorts of things. His fingers dripping, his face hot and sweaty, his hair messed up… you almost melt at the idea. “I think you’re going to have to prove it.”

He holds an arm out to you, and you graciously accept. “I’ll prove it in a million ways, pretty girl. Dance with me and see for yourself.”

Jake leads you to a small area by the jukebox. His palms skim over your waist, pulling you closer but still leaving you aching for more. A song starts playing, one you don’t recognize, but he seems to know exactly how to move to it.

If you’re being totally honest, he’s a really good dancer. And it’s so hot, unbearably so. He doesn’t step on your feet, and he leads your every step without being overpowering. Every song, you seem to get closer and closer until your chest is basically pressed right up against his, and he can still move gracefully.

“How’s this for proof?” He whispers, lips grazing over the shell of your ear. “Rooster’s got moves, but he isn’t half as good as me.”

You push back on his chest gently, raising your eyebrows. “Now I’m starting to think this is just a ploy to get him jealous. Does mustache man get on your nerves that much?” You grin as he takes your hands in his. He rolls his eyes.

“I got the cutest girl in the room all to myself. Who wouldn’t be jealous? The only ploy here is the one where I try and get you to come home with me.”

Your teeth find purchase in your bottom lip, trying to hide your ever-growing smile. You might be getting free drinks more than once. “Buy me a drink and we’ll see how that works out.”

To his credit, Jake seems completely okay with getting to know you before heading out. The conversation is engaging, studded with flirting and genuine curiosity. It’s like he’s hanging on to every word you say, truly attempting to form any sort of connection. Most guys wouldn’t make this effort for a one night stand, especially not someone who looks like they could have a new one every night.

To say he’s beyond saving is an understatement in Jake’s opinion. With every second that goes by, you’re sounding more and more like his dream girl. You like his beer, his favorite place to eat, and you share a few of his hobbies. It’s like a match made in heaven.

As the night progresses, guilt starts eating at the hem of your shirt. The drinks are running low, and the sky is growing dim, and the opportunity to fulfill your challenge is opening up more with every second that ticks by. Do you really want this amazing guy to be a bet?

He stands to leave, offering a hand to help you slip off your bar stool. “Shall we?”

Your hesitation makes him falter just a bit. Jake would be okay with waiting, if he was being honest. Yeah, he’s been semi hard the entire time you ran your finger up and down your drink absentmindedly, but he could take you out on a real date first. One where you stare at him with those pretty eyes and smile your captivating smile.

The feeling takes over as you take in his willingness. “I have something to admit.” You murmur, almost too quiet to pick up over the din of the bar. Luckily for you, he has great hearing.

“Lay it on me, sweet thing. I can take it.” He grins. Your hands find the edges of your shorts and play with the little string on the seam that you’ve been meaning to cut for a few days now.

“I made a stupid agreement with my friends that if I took home the guy I thought was the hottest at the bar, then they’d pay for my drinks next time.” You blurt out. His eyes widen slightly, sending a pang of anxiety through you, before his lips curl up into a smile.

He takes your arms and wraps them around his shoulders, spinning you towards the entrance of the bar. “Well, we wouldn’t want a nice girl like you to pay for her own drinks, huh?”

You arrive at your small house and fumble with the lock while Jake presses hot kisses to your neck. You’re biting back a whimper as the door finally swings open, walking short, hurried steps into the bedroom. His hands are all over you, burning like fire. They’re gripping at your shirt, your waist, the column of your throat, your upper thigh— anywhere he can get ahold of. You pull off your shirt as the back of your knees hit the soft mattress.

Before you can blink, Jake has taken off his shirt too, and his hands are kneading the bottom of your breasts, beneath your lacy bra. “You sure?” He asks. You nod vigorously, unhooking your straps with your fingers, but he just looks down disapprovingly. “With your words, baby.”

“Yes.” You breathe. With that confirmation, he wastes no time.

Your clothes are tossed to some unknown corner of your room. You couldn’t care less about where they ended up, not when Jake is running his fingers over your hardening nipples.

He ghosts over them with just enough pressure to get you cursing. He’s hardly done anything and you can still feel a wetness gathering between your legs. When he moves up, taking your left nipple in his mouth, his bare thigh pressing between yours, a gasp escapes your mouth.

“That good?” He asks. His low voice sends vibrations up your chest, and you utter a quiet confirmation. He pays some attention to your other breast as you practically grind against his thigh, desperate for any sort of friction where you need it most.

He gives you a playful sigh, looking down at your writhing body. You look gorgeous, and knowing that his slight touches are enough to make you squirm is the ego boost of the century. Your eyelashes give a slight flutter at his next words. “Patience. I’ll give you what you want eventually, don’t worry.” His hand slips down and squeezes your thigh encouragingly.

“Now, Jake, please.” You almost whine. It’s embarrassing how well he seems to figure out your body. Even now, he’s kissing his way down your neck, finding every place that heightens your growing arousal. You hook your legs around his waist and rest your arms on the sides of his neck. “I want what I want now.”

It’s amazing how quickly your words travel to his dick. Jake’s roaringly hard, and you can feel it pressing against your inner thigh. You rub your legs up and down, teasing, drawing the most beautiful groan out of his open mouth. You’re going to be the death of him, he thinks.

“You drive a hard bargain, darlin’, and I’m not one to refuse.”

His hands travel down your body, taking time to caress your sides and send shivers up your spine. When he finally reaches the puddle under you, he quirks his eyebrows. “That excited?”

You roll your eyes at him, even though all he can see is the slightest movement of your face. “Get on with it, cowboy.”

He chuckles and places a small kiss on your hipbone. “Yes ma’am.”

He slips one finger inside you, pulling a soft noise from your swollen lips. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts. “Might take you a bit to get used to me.” He curls the finger gently, and you see stars as it brushes up against the spot inside of you that you can’t reach yourself. He’s bigger, stronger, longer, wider. A second finger joins the first, the digits stretching you deliciously.

A pressure begins to build in your stomach as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles. Ah, fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Your hips buck up slightly on top of your mattress, pressing your core into the palm of his hand. “Please.” You squeak.

He frowns, but his pupils are blown up in pure ecstasy. “Well excuse me for trying to give you a good time.” His free hand moves to pinch the curve of your ass lightly. You sit up fully and trail your nails down his back, reveling in the shiver it draws from him. With one smooth motion, you take his cock in your hand and give him a small stroke that has him jolting in his place.

“We can both have a good time if you would put on a condom and fuck me already.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop and consider how needy they sound. They seem to work, though, as he smirks at you and guides your hand up and down his length.

“I’m guessing your dresser drawer is ready for stuff like this?” He asks. You feel your face grow warmer at exactly how right he is as you slide the drawer open and grab one. “Ah, you’ve even got my size. What a responsible girl you are.” His voice comes out as a half laugh, and you try to stifle your own laughter with the palm of your hand.

“I like to be prepared.”

“Might as well throw the smaller ones away after tonight. You’ll only want mine when I’m done with you.” He’s so cocky it’s funny instead of off-putting. You hand him the condom and he rolls it over himself. He has a right to be cocky, you think, with a body like that. All taut muscle and chest hair. When he brings his hand up to the back of your neck to lower you down on your bed, your heart gives a mighty flutter.

“Prove it.” You say, for the second time that night. He gives you a look that says he’s going to prove it more than once, over and over until you’re begging him to keep proving it, then a bit more after that.

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his tip pressing into your warm entrance. As he pushes forwards slowly, teasingly, you’re suddenly aware of just how big he is. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever felt, and despite how wet you’ve become, it’s a lot to handle. You wince as his length stretches you, waiting for the feeling to shift from uncomfortable to ungodly good.

“You bit off more than you can chew, didn’t you?” Jake teases. “We can stop if you want, just say the word.”

Your steady voice challenges him as you try to pull it together. “Keep going. I can take it.”

He doesn’t know how, but Jake gets impossibly harder. He indulges you, though, leaving small kisses on your cheeks to distract you from the pinching pain. Once he’s completely bottomed out, you breathe a sigh of relief. Then, of course, you notice that it feels good. Really good.

He’s pressed right up against a spot that has you seeing stars, and when he moves, slowly at first, the drag forces a moan from deep in your throat. You feel so full, so complete. His pace picks up, and you close your eyes.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good.” He praises, voice strained. The movement of his hips is delicious. Smooth, quick, deep. When his fingers find his way to your clit, you almost finish right then and there.

You’re panting, breath coming out in hot waves against the nape of Jake’s neck. He shivers at the feeling, pressing closer to you to soak in more of that warmth. “Jake, I’m- I’m gonna…” you trail off, closing your mouth as another whimper tries to sneak out.

“Go for it, sweetness. Let me hear that pretty voice.”

With one, two, three more strokes, you feel the knot within you beginning to unravel. Your nails rake down his sides, one of his hands is gripping your waist and the other is firmly attached to your bundle of nerves, and his mouth is suddenly on yours, muffling your noises. It’s overwhelming. With one sharp gasp, you clench down hard and come undone.

Jake follows soon after as he pulls out with a groan. The sound falls heavily on your blissed-out ears.

You sit up, taking his face in your hand. “You’ve proved it. Oh, and I’m officially tonight’s lucky winner.” You say with a beaming smile. He scoffs lightly.

“You were a winner the minute you stepped into that bar.” He winks at you as your hand moves down to rest on his collarbone. “Just let me join in on your winnings when you cash out.”

“In your dreams, cowboy. The most you’ll get is a beer or two before my friends take their cards away.”

He blows a little air out of the side of his mouth before collapsing onto your bed like he owns it, pulling you into his arms. “I’ll take what I can get if it means I can see you again.”

You sigh happily, snuggling into his chest. “Is that a promise?”

“Sure is. The Hard Deck, next Friday. Bring your friends and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Taglist: @seitmai

#solar eclipse.#total eclipse.#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin #top gun maverick x reader #top gun x reader #top gun #top gun hangman #top gun fandom #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun movie

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shapelytimber · 1 year ago

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Y2kunt darth maul going to the club with the gals (gn). He was 22 in sw1, he should've been at the club

[COMMISSIONS] - [PRINT] (Promo code UJABTZ still available until 11/19 <3)

Process below (and a quick recap of all the other people in the room (+ rambling because it's my favorite thing to do gkgkflflk)) vvv

Do I think Maul would have a friend group ? No. But it's time to open our hearts and and free ourselves from the shackles of common sense.

Anyway starting from the left, the togruta woman was a design I created nearly... 3 years ago ?? In my first fanart for the fic serie "how to..." (I think I named her Narla).

In the bg is my sw barbie ! In hommage to someone who said on my last maul drawing "I think Maul deserves barbie as a friend" (something along those lines-) and I think they are right so here she is !

And the last person is... The death stick guy from the second film gkgkfkoffk I could not resist not including him idkw. He seems to enjoy going to the club ? That's enough for me ! (Don't think of the timeline, for the love of god nobody think of the timeline-)

When I was doing sketches for this, I thought about one crutial detail I could not comprehensively include in the final image, so here it is : Maul and my togruta lady chose each other's outfits. He picked something he thought looked cool, she picked pink.

PS : the longer I was working on this piece the more Darth Maul was looking like a mean lesbian lhlgkgofok anyway if you want to interpret this image as trans mean lesbian Maul I won't stop you <3 (join me and my evil advisor in this delightful vision)

PSS : my only exposure to maul was though sw1, and half of the book 'maul lockdown' (that I remember nothing about-). I barely know this man, he is just the weird guy from sw I like to draw. (I obviously know other things about him, but only through fandom(tumblr))

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moonstruckmoony · 5 months ago

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A Ravenclaw Lunch 🦅

Drew some of my favorite Ravenclaws on this platform. Although one isn't necessarily a Ravenclaw. (@traceyc-uk I genuinely thought he was a Ravenclaw when I first saw him lol but I saw your comment reply somewhere that your first playthrough was Ravenclaw so I think this counts… a bit? 😂)

This post is basically a peace offering (and a love letter) bcs I want to make more Ravenclaw friends 👀👉🏻👈🏻 definitely not because I'm obsessed with you guys' MCs

I swear it was supposed to be a silly doodle at first but idk how or when down the line but somehow it turned into this mega drawing. Took me weeks to finish it. I’m not happy with a few technical things especially lights and shadows… and some other things as well but I leave it be bcs I’m aware that I’m still learning 🥲 The rest I’m pretty satisfied with, I’m just happy that I got to finally finish this.

Front row (left to right):

Violet and Pearl Castellar by @vienguinn Omg HAPPY BELATED BELATED BIRTHDAY TO THESE BABIES! These 2 are some of my favorites and everytime you post I always open my phone real quick, your short comics are my comfort 🩵

Clora Clemons by @choccy-milky I cannot not draw Clora?!!?! I consider you a legend in this fandom tbh 👑 also I want to thank you bcs your fic and illustrations literally helped me go through my stressful period when I was at my lowest bcs of my new demanding job that I started half a year ago. I look forward to your post everytime and your Clora and Seb always heals my soul 😭🩵💚

Sally Salamander by @siboom777 Sally is just so wacky and unapologetically herself and I love her for it 🩵 Does she take commissions for toys tho?

Marvin Jerry by @runicxraven MY LOVELY SILLY ADORABLE LITTLE NERD 💗💗💗💗 I need more Marvin in my life honestly.

@najiang ‘s MC - I’m so so sorry I didn’t draw her full face😭, I tried my best to show her face as much as I can while still looking like she’s taking those sausages haha. But anyway please know that I love your art so so much and I kept going back to the curry one and the one where MC came across Amit with beard as adults (that one is hilarious). Idk if your MC has a name or you left it nameless? I assume it was the latter but if she has one I’d love to know!

Faustine Daemon by @faustinio27 Hey, a fellow INFJ! Winter is the same 🩵 I really love her story and especially her personality character sheet, you drew her expressions really well and I’m a fan!

Back row (left to right):

Oliver Lennox by @pixie-dustss Handsome boi 🥰 We’re friends already (I hope I’m not the only one who thinks that way 🫢) from TikTok and you made me a video for Secret Santa last year and I just found out recently that you’re on Tumblr too so I want to say thanks by drawing Oliver! 🩵🩵🩵

Aurélie Collins by @morelikeravenbore I loove this look for Aura, she just looks so chic with the hat and scarf 😭🩵 Sassy Ravenclaw bebe 🥰 My Winter has some French heritage (the lore is still rotting in my notebook bcs I haven’t had the chance to draw her family members 🥲) so I do hope they can be friends and Aura would teach her French bcs she can’t speak much of it 👉🏻👈🏻

Alistair Dusk by @speedysart Surprise! You commented on my last speedpaint on Tiktok yesterday and I want to spill this art so bad but I was almost done so I kept my mouth shut haha. I love the pretty boi’s hair and piercings, and the fact that you chose this blazer for him, I just love it he looks so dapper in that 😣🩵

Eleonora Russel by @zordanna I love sweet Eleonora and her fascination with the moon and stars 🩵🌌 Oh and I kept coming back to your “I feel like an orange” Tiktok bcs it’s so fluffy and it heals my stress… also I adore your art it’s super soft and painty and delicate 🥹💗

@traceyc-uk ‘s MC - YOUR MC. I SWEAR TO MERLIN HE’S ON MY MIND 24/7 LATELY. Not sure why, it’s probably bcs I kept re-reading your comics. Also bcs he’s an adorable little golden retriever (but also a fierce cat!😼) You’re super talented in drawing comics and facial expressions, I have a lot to learn especially in terms of layouting… last time I made a comic I hated the layout and the fact that it looks stiff to me, so your comics has been such an inspiration!

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #moonydrawshl #ravenclaw #oc #hl mc #hogwarts legacy fanart #characters im obsessed with #i genuinely want more ravenclaw friends #winter blackstone #Winter Blackstone and friends

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alllgator-blood · 26 days ago

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Heket went on a date, can I take Kallamar on one? We can go to the beach and eat ice cream, and critique people's sandcastles

KALLAMAR ACCEPTS, but took the last part of your ask too far and forgot to pay attention to the tides. You're probably gonna have to help them get cleaned up, and maybe grab another ice cream for good measure.

This one was a lot of fun to work on! Learned a lot more about how to draw kallamar from this picture alone, I noticed other people's versions of him tend to have tentacle hair and regular arms/legs which is so slay but I really cannot let go of my kallamar being literally like a regular squid that has to manually resemble a humanoid instead of a head on legs. None of my versions of the bishops need to wear clothes technically cause their main robes are just fine, but kallamar 100% would commission the most elaborate outfits just to flex

These date asks are killing me (in a good way) because I literally started working on a bishop dating sim half a year ago, got self conscious after a few weeks and stopped. So it's funny that it's come full circle and I'm answering asks requesting dates with the bishops DJSHFSKJDF

#cult of the lamb #kallamar #leshy #cotl bishops

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johnpriceslamb · 8 months ago

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hey! i really love ur writing! are your requests open?? if they are would you maybe write another arthur x reader fic? maybe something with arthur introducing his new girlfriend to the gang for the first time? thank uuu!!😊

𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓲𝓻𝔂 ,

❥ ˚₊‧ swishswishswish prattles the pink-tinted brush within your nimble hold. Each delicate tap against the swell of your soft cheeks swell even more with colour, adorning a scent you were far too familiar with— cherry-kissed by love herself. ˚₊‧

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ꒰ ❥ hyper-feminine ! reader ❥ female ! reader ❥ reader is mentioned to be physically shorter than characters mentioned below ❥ lovesick Arthur Morgan ❥ super-shy reader ❥ rugged cowboy bf x mini baker gf ❥ fluff ❥ Age gap implied ❥ 7k words ꒱

❥ arthur morgan x female! reader

꒰🍰꒱ “SWEET GATEAU” Written in all bold, the colour pink, carved in cursive. The board swings heavily amidst the top of the pole that sticks out to show off the demure place.

That was the name of your workplace. Located in the most populated city in the state of Lemoyne, Saint Denis. It was an obvious spot for cakes and pastries, considering that the literal meaning of ‘Gateau’ was cake in French. It stands out from most buildings surrounding it as do the connected shops beside it- large windows to display the sweet delicacies of riches on little shelves for those to glance at when passing by.

More-so.. advertising then teasing, you'd say.

The comforting, delicious fragrance of vanilla extract fills the air. You have yet to work on other requests commissioned by customers, though you focus solely on this particular order. Mainly because it was the easiest and much quicker to prepare.

A simple sponge plain cake with vanilla icing. Couldn’t be too hard.

You’re quite tempted to take a little swipe of the wet cream and taste it yourself- fortunately your temptations resist yet again because of repetition and practice. tiktiktik does the whisk in your hand go as it constantly scrapes against the bowl, the mixture hardens and becomes more of a fluffy-like texture rather than a wet clump of nice smelling liquid.

The comforting sound of the fire crackles with faint embers floating amongst the brick-encased oven. Inside the oven lay two lovely little flat cakes. Just exactly twenty minutes ago you’ve bestowed them upon a wooden flat board to dish out near the heat to harden up.

“Ten more minutes..” You mumble to yourself. Enough time to finish whisking the vanilla icing and pour into a pipe-bag.

You admire the prettiness of the sweet-tasting icing which was coated inside the surface of the bowl, before glancing at the paper-filled request again to make sure that you’ve been following the guide correctly. Thankfully enough, the woman who requested the small two layered cake wrote it on a piece of paper rather than verbally out loud. Her hand-writing was lovely, and so was she. At the end of the piece of paper, her signature was written out—

‘Mary-Beth. :-). Please do not forget the cherry on top !!!!’

You can’t help but giggle softly at the absurd amount of exclamation marks she wrote down. She was quite bubbly, and that lady was- very excited. From the looks of her- you were just at least a year or so younger than her. You remember she adorned a long skirt, dark pink in colour.. with her hair in a half down half updo. Freckles prettily placed on her skin. You recall stating to come pick up her order at around 8 in the morning tomorrow. The clock strikes 6 A.M. Two more hours until she can pick up her cake!

Long, dewy lashes tinker at the sound of the bells at the door jingling as a person enters. You were quick on your feet, miniature ribbon-tipped slippers softly tapping on the ceramic floor of this building, curiously peeking your dainty head from the corner. Another rich man seemed to peer around curiously at all the pastries and such inside, pondering if he should buy a few sweets. You weren’t one to really socialise, neither was he- from the looks of it. You could only offer the sweetest smile you could etch onto your face and shyly nod as he turned to you to acknowledge you, before returning back to the kitchen hidden from customers to work on the cake.

He could just ring the bell on the front counter to get your attention.

It was common for people to enter the little bakery, though at around 10-2 is when chatter becomes louder and you become more frantic.

And with that- ten minutes has passed. You clumsily get the cakes out of the oven and place it on the kitchenette's bench. Hot and rough-looking around the edges.. You could probably cover it up with the icing.

Before you do, you cover the first layer with the fluffy icing, before plopping the second layers on. This job was very therapeutic, you considered.

Droop does the vanilla sweetening go as you drown the plain cake with the sweet icing. Delicate swipes of a butter knife allowing it to smoothen amongst the hardened surface of the spongy delicacy. Plop! One little swirl of icing on top. And another.. and another.. Until it surrounds the whole edge of the cake. Oh, don’t forget! One big swirl in the middle of the cake, where the cherry shall be placed upon.

You can’t help but decorate the sides with little frosted hearts, the piping bag in your hand ever so sturdy as it squeezes most of the remaining out and onto the lovely decorated cake.

Was the decoration necessary? No, not really. But did it make you feel bubbly? Yes.

Ding!

You hear the sound of the silver bell reverberating against the metal itself just a few times from outside the kitchenette. You blink a few times, before toddling out and back at the counter. Seemed like the man from earlier had already decided on what to buy.

The sound of your meek, tiny voice can be heard echoing about and bouncing back to you. It was rather empty, considering that it was 6 in the morning-

“Welcome to Sweet Gateau! Where all your tastebuds experience sweet wonder and satisfaction. How may I help you?” Recitation of the same line allows you to memorise the whole thing completely. Sometimes you do change it up a bit just to have a bit of fun.

The man blinks at you.

He looks around before narrowing his eyes at you, sizing you up- albeit.. confused.

You want to ask what's wrong, did he perhaps get the shops wrong?

Perhaps it was his old eyes, or the way he perceived people by appearance. Maybe the tuft of pink on your uniform, or maybe the way you style your hair with ribbons and such. But looking at you, you looked as if you were just a..

“...Does this business support child labour?”

You stammer.

꒰🍰꒱ You are not one to argue with customers. Or argue at all.

But you’ve had to greatly convince the man that this place does not in fact, recruit people under the age of fourteen to work. He stumbles over his words as he realises that you were not actually in early adolescence, and to affirm his apology, he tips you a dollar. The wooden door which was pulled back allows the sweet little bells hung on top to jingle gently yet again as you see his retreating form with the paper bag of biscuits and sugary delicacies.

You smile happily. Another customer satisfied! though.. confused.

The clock strikes 7. One more hour until the lady can pick up her cake.

With a hum that sounded more like a serenade, you pack the cake into a small frilly-looking box, a sort of see-through material shaped in an oval which was built inside the frail box to allow the person to see the decorated cakes. Your beady eyes shimmer at the leftover frosting inside the piping bag.. maybe you could just have a little..

Your temptations are yet again disrupted by a flood of customers coming in. It was a Saturday, of course people were shopping at early dawn. The small crowd amidst the bakery mainly consisted of young ladies in friend groups admiring the pretty delicacies around, rich elderly retrospectively adorning the sweets from their childhood.

A squeak and a babble of incoherence once many line up, you're quick on your tippy toes to heat a tea-pot up with water near the brick-encased oven and organise many distributions of loose tea leaves.

Sometimes, you wonder if people did genuinely acknowledge their health since eating cakes and biscuits and other sweet stuff in the early morning wasn't really considered the healthiest breakfasts. Though, at least you earned a fair paycheck at the end.

A pretty smile feigned on your face until your apple-blossomed cheeks strained, as you recited the line over and over again to many customers who pointed at the delicacies they wanted to buy and eat. The fragrance of chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, it swirls into one and becomes a potent scent which drives more and more to eat up. You can’t help the giddy smile and the apple-blossom swelling with colour on your cheeks as you shyly peer at everyone who eats the pastry with delight. You’ve baked a few of the treats that linger in the bakery, and the soft moan at the end of the bite which signifies great pleasure in eating your own baked sweets allows your tummy to flutter with butterflies.

The tip jar starts to slowly fill every ten minutes. Quarters shine and tinker within the glass container, bidding every donation with a pleased 'thank you!' and a little wink.

It’s been an hour or so. Mary-Beth has yet to pick up her cake.

As if on cue, the bells attached on-top of the door chimes, producing the same little melodic drag. You look up to see the lady you were thinking about! Mary-Beth, if you recall correctly. You wave at her with a happy smile, and she reciprocates with a big grin obviously excited to see the order. From behind her slightly taller figure in comparison to you was followed by three more ladies, admiring the shop with a soft coo and a gasp.

“I told y'all this bakery was cute!” Said-woman falls with a bemused smile on her face.

“Twenty-five cents for a whole brownie! What a catch,” One nudges another.

“It has caramel in it!! C’mon Abigail, we oughta!” The lady with blonde hair almost whines, “It’ll be a good surprise for lil’ Jack!”

“Mh, I don’t know Karen..”

Mary-Beth eagerly comes to the counter, her dark rosetta coloured skirt swishing around as she does. “Hello, miss [name]!”

You smile in return, wiping your powered-up hands on your frilly light-pink apron, “Hi, Miss Gaskill. Your vanilla glazed cake is done. Are you here to eat in or to take out?” As nimble as you were, you can’t help but be comforted by the lady’s presence. A sunshine amongst a field of closed sun-flowers.

She almost seemed surprised at your words. Perhaps the usual shops that she went in did not offer such things. She ponders, before calling out to the three women who still stare at all the sweets on display, arguing with each other whether or not they should buy a few sweets, “Would you all mind quieting down!?”

You can’t help but softly giggle under your breath.

You patiently wait for Mary’s answer, that small grin still plastered on your face.

“Hm..” She hums, “Do you perhaps have spare plates and serviettes..?” She meekly asks.

“Of course!” You nod sweetly, “Give me a moment to prepare a table would you?” “Oh! Okay,” She beams.

As you pass by, all of the girl’s bid you a “hi!”, “lovely place!” “hello!” You respond to them with a wave and a smile.

“She’s very pretty,” The black-haired girl whispers to Mary-Beth. She nods immediately at her response.

“She really is,” She agrees, “So lovely too! I think she's got to be the nicest girl I've ever met in Saint Denis.”

As the chatter in the bakery by other folks becomes a tad bit louder, you're too busy preparing four serviette-adorned plates. You nod to the lady waiting, she bickers with the others and allows them to toddle on over and take a seat. The legs of the chair scrape at the floorings below, some are mindful about the fact and instead of dragging it, they slightly elevate it to eliminate the scratchings.

“Oh! Right, would you like me to cut the cake?” You graciously ask.

She smiles and politely nods, “Yes please!”

Their prattling drowns out in silence as you waddle away back in the kitchenette to cut the cake.

Mary-Beth smiles at the other girls.

“So? How do y’all like it here?”

“It’s real fancy in here,” Abigail responds calmly, “Real pretty, though.”

“Mhm. Anywho.. How much did you pay for the cake?” Her blonde haired friend asks. She fiddles with the napkin on the plate, before placing it beside the food holder. She inhales the scent of the bakery, sighing sweetly.

She sheepishly grins, “Err.. five dollar.”

“I— Mary-Beth! My goodness..”

“Tilly, I promise you. It’s gon’ be real good!” She nudges the girl in the yellow dress.

"I better see miracles happening once I take a bite out of the cake," Karen- the blonde haired woman scoffs, allowing herself to get comfortable in the chairs. The two women beside her softly giggle at her bluntness.

The bold, sweet odour of the sugary vanilla glacé hits their nose, arriving with a slight wiggle inside the box as you carefully place it in the middle. Mary-Beth was the first to gently take the lid off, she gasped at the small decorations at the side. Little piped hearts.. "My, oh my.."

"Now, ain’t that just the cutest little thing i’ve ever seen?" Tilly coos.

You do a little curtsey, tipped with a sugary smile and doll your wispy lashes. "Enjoy, ladies!"

"Ah ah, wait a moment now- hold on!" Mary-Beth frantically stammers and tries to get your attention with a squeak once your small back is turned to them. It does, fortunately.

You turn back around, curious. Your head is slightly tilted to embody your confusion, beady eyes staring at the ladies whom seem to also want to keep you back here.

"I've seen you runnin' all about and uhm.. Do you ever take breaks, miss?" She curiously asks.

You blink. Was she offering..?

"I do," You respond truthfully, albeit shyly.

She sheepishly smiles, "Would you perhaps.. Like to enjoy this with us?"

You stammer, "I-I uhm, I'm not sure about that-"

The woman in blonde cuts you off, "Awh, c'mooon! C'mere and sit, girl. You need a damn break."

You hesitate again. "No, really-"

"Ahh, give us a break- c'mere now!" She cuts you off easily. The one whom insisted on you sitting down with them grabs a chair from an empty table, before easily plopping you down.

"What's yer name, lil' lady?" She asks with a smile.

You grin with a docile muse, saying hi to the other girls, "It's [name]."

"Ooh! Purdy name for an even purdier girl." She cheekily pats your pixie-like shoulder. Your cheeks pop with colour at her low-toned flirting

"I'm Karen, that's Tilly, Abigail, and of course, Mary-Beth. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, little miss [name].”

Another girl pipes up, “Do you work here all alone, [name]?” Tilly— the one with the pretty yellow sundress asks with interest. She admires the interior of the building, how the edges of the roof had little floral pastry designs, on-going around the whole building and to the hidden kitchenette behind.

“Mhm!” You nod. Abigail raises her brows up, leaning slightly on the table. She has the mother-like aura which makes you feel ever-so giddy. She’s hushed in her tone, worried that she might make a scene if she spoke too loud, “Excuse me for intrudin’ but.. Ain't you a little… too young to be running this store all by yourself?”

“Ah!” Your cheeks become darker in hue. “I’m of legal age to work, miss. It’s just the frills ‘n the bows.”

Tilly was the first to serve herself a slice. She takes a small bite from the sweet delicacy, icing oozing out inside as she lets out a delightful hum. She finishes chewing it, before her eyes twinkle and she turns to you, “My goodness! And you baked this all by yourself?”

“Uhuh, I’m so glad you like it.” You clasp your hands together happily. Mary-Beth is eager to get a slice, then Abigail, then Karen.

“Okay, maybe the dollar was kind of worth it for this cake..” Karen mumbles quietly, poking her fork at the sweet cake.

Mary-Beth cheekily nudges Tilly’s shoulder, “Seeee? I knew you’d like it.”

You look around, noting yourself that you should give them something to drink to drown that sucrose-filled treat. You excused yourself from the table, the little frills etched on the back of your small skirt bobbling about like a tiny princess toddling about. You’re quick to bringing a teapot over, with a few porcelain-like cups stacked on top as you gently place it on the table.

“Wait- er.. Does the tea cost extra?” Mary-Beth asks, raising a finger before lowering it down as it catches your attention.

You raise a brow, “It’s free.”

“I could quite literally kiss you right now,” She beams, allowing you to pour the hot tea in the cups which were given out to the women around.

The overall vibe amongst the interior was pleasant. The small, gossamer-bunched bonnet on your head tilts a bit as you lean down to tip the fragile teapot.

As you carefully pour the hot liquid, you hear them conversing with each other as usual. Though you tend to take a blind eye- or ear in this case, you can’t help but be a tad bit curious to their little gossip.

“D’you reckon we should’ve invited Molly over?” Abigail asks.

“Oh- Maybe. I feel like she'll like it here, but I also have this feeling she’ll just fan herself away and give us nasty looks the whole time.” Tilly mumbles, delicately cooing out a 'thank you' as you poured a cup of tea for her. The tea swishes and sloshes against the cup as she drinks from it with her pinkie out.

Karen snorts, "You're so right. Just one touch from Dutch, and she's ready to take over the world. Miss primp and polish she is till' mister Dutchie doesn't give her a lick of affection."

Mary-Beth gasps softly, "Karen!" She calls her name as if to scold her, only for a small chuckle to follow after.

Your curiosity is visible, but you don't say anything. You're one to entertain gossip, but you aren't one to prod- considering that you've only met these lovely ladies.

They finished the small cake in another hour. Currently, you were situated behind the mini counter serving a few customers amongst the treats they wanted to buy.

"Ah, that was real good." Abigail wipes her mouth with the napkin provided, in a more rushed sense- an underlying feeling that she wasn’t so used to these kinds of etiquette.

"Maybe we should buy sumthing! We ain't gonna visit 'Denis for a while unless if we like- beg Arthur or sumn' to come wit', so I reckon we should give ourselves a little treat after all the things we've been through."

"We should buy them caramel brownies.."

"C'mon, c'mon! Lets get it then," Karen ushers Tilly and Abigail out of their seats once they've finished up, Mary-Beth following after with a giggle.

"[name]! These brownies cost twenty-five cents a bar don't they?" Mary-Beth calls out, pointing at the display at the front. Oozing with caramel delight, encased with a delicious chocolate coating which makes her swoon at the beautiful sight.

"It does, yes." You nod with a shy smile.

"Goodness, [name]. These prices are kinda high.. Reckon' you can give us a lil'.. discount? Y'know! Since we're friends!" Karen winks.

You shyly ponder, "Mhh.. Alright, why not?" As said before, you weren't really one to argue. Besides, they were sweet girls.

"Woo-hoo!" They cheer with a giggle, before eagerly grabbing the little tong at the side to grab a slice.

"A bar of brownie.. 20 cents." You bargain.

Karen shrugs, "Good enough." And she hands you the coins.

You hear them all bidding you a good-bye, and a cheeky "Expect to see me here again!!"

The door closes, and you're left with the constant conversations on-going. You stare at the shining coins placed in your hands, and can’t help the pleasurable feeling of gentle-tipped joy flood your tummy.

꒰🍰꒱ Morning dawn comes.

Another day at the bakery.

You rise slowly from your beauty sleep. The silky gossamer curtains flow slightly from the wind, as the sun shines pink and yellow lights from the half open windows of your room. The wood creeks beneath your light footsteps as you grumble on to get ready for the morning.

Lazy pats of coloured light pink powder is gently flushed against your cheeks, the small ribbon-tipped brush rattles because of the amount of use it's been through. Your hair is done prettily, silky bows attached to the side which matches the coloured powder you put on your dewy face. It takes you a tad longer to arrange your morning routine into a real situation, until you're out of the door and walking on the path to the bakery.

Pushing past the entrance, you hear those bells chime a little ballad that was always memorable and will never be forgotten.

Though it may be a nuisance to look at the same things constantly, you are always reminded that this place was a safe-zone for anyone or anything. Mainly because at the entrance hangs a low sign on the door handle that entrees prohibit the use of weapons and must take it off before entering the store.

Suddenly, your thoughts are interrupted as the entrance opens to the same women from yesterday. Though, two older men are accompanying them from behind, albeit.. begrudgingly.

"-I don't think this store is the right thing f' me.." He grumbles, you can see from behind the counter that Abigail was holding his hand, perhaps her lover. She glares and hisses at him, pinching his arm. "Quiet, you."

"Y'sure this place sells them biscuits I like?" The one in dirty blonde seemed low-key embarrassed to be in here, scratching at his head as he looks around. His hat is tilted to obscure his eye-sight. Your curious eyes widen a bit as his own stares at yours. You quickly avert your eyes with a soft blush etched on your cheeks.

"They sell all kinds of sweets 'n' delicates," Tilly pipes up, slightly hitching her long skirt up with her thumb and index finger. Shoes clack gently against the floral-designed tiles, eyes wandering around the familiar place. "I'm sure you'll find those dumb biscuits you keep talkin' about!"

"[name]!!" Mary-Beth was the first to run to the counter with a giddy smile, "Told ya I'd be coming back."

You have a small smile on your face, "Welcome back, miss Gaskill!" You do a tiny curtsey with your frill-bunched apron and skirt.

She giggles, "Goodness, [name]. You are too cute for your own good."

She perks up, "Ah! We brought a few friends over. This here's John," She points to the man who grumbled a 'hi', crossing his arms. He clearly does not want to be here. The woman who clings onto his arms scolds him quietly for being so ‘impolite’. You hide your lips behind your hand to stifle your soft giggle.

“That’s Arthur.” Mary-Beth points to the man who looks at the biscuits section. Topped with a black shirt and a vest which had a unique design, he seemed.. very determined to find those biscuits he mentioned earlier when entering the bakery. He looks around curiously, the little flower-y paint-job is something he expected for a small little bakery like this one here.

He’s holding onto his belt whilst striding to the counter lazily, before curiously looking at you. Cold, dark eyes peer at you like a lone wolf about to catch it’s prey for lunch. You meekly shrink just a bit as you feel him size you up with his daring gaze.

“Howdy, miss.” He greets casually.

You slowly nod, very shy with your greeting. Your quiet voice echoes loudly in his ears. He unconsciously has to lean just a bit to even hear you. “Hello, welcome to sweet Gateau..” A smile forms on your face as you see his brows relaxing slightly at your harmless form. Suddenly, he’s as bashful as a kid being told off for causing a ruckus. He looks around with a narrowed gaze, before looking back at you. A soft grunt escapes his lips.

“..Do ya’ll make uh.. Osborne biscuits?” He asks in a low tone.

You brighten up.

“Oh! Yes we do. Would you like a bag?” You ask with that same pixie-like smile which makes him soften up even more. Something.. catches his eye. He’s not sure what though.

“Ah, um.. Yes please, miss.” He tilts his head to obscure his eyes from your view.

You mumble a little ‘excuse me,’ to push yourself off your shoes to retrieve his request. He watches the way your fluffy-frilled skirt bobbles up and down.

Very.. cute.

A tap to his shoulder, and a soft snicker catches his attention. He turns around.

“Whuh.. What?” Arthur blinks at the three ladies who stare at him with a big grin. He was stunned at the abnormal behaviour they were currently showing off.

“Yer cheeks are real red.” Mary-Beth comments. Tilly has to hide her soft chuckle with her hand the corner of her eyes becoming alike of a crows feet to acknowledge her amusement.

“They are?” He quirks a brow, crossing his arms. Though imposing, he’s as docile as a lamb when it comes to the ladies, “Yer jokin’ with me.”

“Are not!” Karen laughs, “Don’t tell me you like her already. Ya’ll only just met!”

Arthur looks defensive, he narrows his eyes at the women in-front of him. “The hell you talkin’ bout?” He rests on the soles of his feet, nervously looking around. Anywhere but in their eyes.

“It’s as plain as daylight, cowpoke. No shame in hidin’ it, she’s real cute.”

Unaware of their conversations lingering in the background, you come back with the bag of Osborne biscuits. located within a transparent plastic bag and secured with a ribbon. A sticker in the middle with the bakery's emblem on it It rests delicately in your palm as you blithely toddle up front. The chatting suddenly ceases when you return.

“Apologies for taking a while,” You apologise sweetly, placing the biscuits on the counter. He brightens up entirely at the cute packaging of the biscuits he was craving for for so long.

“Don’t sweat it,” He opens the satchel hanging over his shoulder, “How much?”

“Fifty cents for a bag.” You watch him throw a few coins onto the counter. You smile sweetly, counting the coins before placing them inside the cash register. The swelling of your cheeks become just a tad bit more prominent as his fingers linger on yours to grab the bag out of your hand once you push it lightly in his direction.

You do a tiny curtsy. So much alike of a princess who expresses their gratitude to a king. “Thank you for ordering!”

He could only nod, scratching at his stubble as he awkwardly looked away. “Yeah. Uh.. No problem.”

“Do we really needa be feedin’ Jack all this? He’s gon’ be diabetic once he grows up if we keep feeding him this stuff..” John and Abigail bicker in the background which catches both of your attention. You can’t help the amused smile on your face at his comment. Though he was trying to be quiet, these walls echoed right back at you.

“Are.. They always like this?” You can’t help but question the sweet- or.. something couple from the back. It was cute in your eyes. Arthur can’t help the grin forming on his face.

“Their way of showing love I guess,” He leans on the counter with the biscuits in his hand. Then, he slowly turns his head to you, “Er.. What’s yer name?”

“[name],” You squeak in response to the handsome man.

He blinks. Without hesitation, he says with a soft hum— “Purdy name.”

Your cheeks become the same pigment of powder you apply on your temples. You look down at the ground, your hands behind your back as you can’t help the giddy smile on your face, “Thank you..”

Arthur is curious to learn more. He's fascinated by the personality you portray. With a pixie-like physique and a timid mindset akin to a doe, a stark contrast to his.

“How uh.. How long have you been workin’ here? In sweet..” He pauses awkwardly, trying to think of a way to say the final word in a mumble without looking or sounding ignorant.

“Gateau,” You finish his sentence for him with a light smile. He’s thankful that he didn’t hear a soft giggle at the end. Perhaps you were trying to save him from looking pitiful. Or maybe you were really just a decent-hearted girlie.

You do not notice the way the other ladies looked back at you and Arthur with a cheeky smile.

“Ah, yeah. Sweet Gateau,” He clears his throat with an oafish, low beam.

You can’t really remember the exact date you started working in this petite patisserie, but you give him a rough estimation of when you started. He nods with an interested hum, seemingly curious about your story. He didn’t seem like a man who would indulge in small-chat. But for you, he did.

“We’re leavin’, Arthur! We all got what we wanted!” One of the women calls out to him, causing him to be startled at the abrupt calling.

He clears his throat shyly again. “Ah.. Um.. I should get goin’. Only came here to see if ya’ll had ‘em in stock. Glad you guys did.” His words were nothing but gentle- waving even. As if Arthur didn’t want to leave just yet. You nod kindly, letting a tiny blossom of adoration to slowly develop inside your tummy.

“Come back next time,” You faintly add, shyly waving at him with a sweet beam.

He has a low smile, “Oh, I will.”

Your heart stammers a bit.

The door closes. The sound of multiple footsteps creaking amongst wooden floorboards is heard.

John’s looks at the cowpoke who strides next to him. He’s careful not linger near the dirt-path, noting to himself to not get his boots so dirty. A nudge to his arm is what gets Arthur away from his thoughts.

“What the hell was that?”

Arthur glowers. “What’s what?”

“Don’t play dumb, cowpoke. Saw how you looked at ‘er.”

“I don’t know what yer’ talkin’ about.”

The conversation ends there. Either John was becoming frustrated with his ignorance his words were stuck in his throat, or he gave up entirely to persuade the man’s attraction to the girl behind those doors.

꒰🍰꒱ To your utmost surprise, Arthur Morgan slowly yet surely becomes a common face within Sweet Gateau.

It’s not to say he was unwelcome in the premises, rather more.. how should you say this, amusing to say the least.

A man who stands firm and tall at a whopping 6’4 in height, who carries a gun at his side with a rifle almost as big as you- with a sharp gaze that could pierce your heart as quick as a glance in your direction, stands in a small bakery with light pink fairy-like cakes and floral themed walls. Perched up on a table with his little snack whilst scribbling down things on that journal he always took. You wonder what he writes about.

With his constant visits, it’s clear that you’ve down packed his order to your brain.

Osborne biscuits with a small cup of coffee.

You wonder if that man likes to torture himself with such blandness. No sugar, no milk, just coffee. It’s as bitter as it can be- if you can smell that bittersweet scent from just a few centimetres away.

Sometimes he would come up to you for a small chat to probably make you feel less lonely as you sweep away at a dusty corner for a few minutes straight. Other times he would just mind his own business, munching away on those plain biscuits he always orders.

It’s been a few weeks since seeing the other girls. Sometimes you ask Arthur to say hi to them for you, and he always comes back with a lazy grin saying that they miss you and hope you’re doing well despite only knowing each other for a few days.

The bell rings up front.

You know it’s him from the way he slowly strides to the counter, a quiet grunt escaping his lips as a faint jingle of spurs become evident the more he walks closely.

You truly cannot help the blossoming smile which etches on your face.

“Good afternoon, Mister Morgan. Welcome to sweet Gateau,” You welcome him with a slight lean on the counter. You can’t help that cheeky expression, “The usual?”

“Y’know me.” He nods at your words, “The usual, please.” Baritone and deep, his voice was. It almost sends a shiver down your spine.

You watch him turn his back to go sit at one of the more secluded spots in the bakery, deep into a corner. A diary in hand, with a pencil busily being worn down on the papers. The sounds of led scratching at the fibres of the white expansion of pages is heard easily from afar. It’s calming to say the least.

You’re quick with the order, almost giddy as you place the plate of those plain biscuits on his table with his bitter coffee. He gives you a small ‘thank ya’ kindly.’ before returning back to his sketching on something.

In just under twenty minutes will the bakery close. It’s quiet, with only a few people including Arthur relaxing in the wooden chairs placed within the interior.

You’re busy within the kitchenette, allowing the brick-encased oven to be put out completely. Washing up all the equipment you’ve used to make and create such food, soapy bubbles floating everywhere. The sounds of the door opening and closing is heard, many of the customers served leaving with a small tip inside that jar of yours up front.

Slowly yet surely, you wipe down the benches of the kitchenette before putting the rag back down. You walk up to the counter with a soft yawn from the tiring day.

A soft clearing of a throat catches your attention. You blink a few times and see Arthur.

“Oh! I thought you would’ve left a while ago,” You smile. Though you’re not very keen on customers staying five minutes before closing time, you’ll be very glad to make an exception for Arthur.

“Sorry, uh..” He awkwardly scratches at the back of his head, “Reckoned It’d be better to give this to you in private.”

You tilt your head sweetly, almost puppy-like. His heart squeezes at the simple yet innocent gesture. What was he giving you?

With that, he hands you a piece of paper, folded in half just once with a small heart at the corner. Your eyes light up immediately, as you shyly take the piece of paper- one which was from his diary he probably torn off, considering that one edge of the paper was bumpy and rough.

You mumble out a shy ‘thank you’, very curious and opening it with one simple hand gesture.

You feel like the luckiest girl alive.

A pretty led-based sketch of you. You were drawn with your usual frilly outfit on, the bakery drawn in the background. He drew every single detail on your face so accurately, it sort of amazes you. The small beauty mark was in the correct spot, with your eyes big and sparkly.

You softly gasp, putting a small hand over your mouth to not look like a dummy in front of him, “Arthur..”

“It ain’t the best but..” He averts his gaze, “I couldn’t help but draw ya. You just looked..” Pretty. Beautiful. Adorable. Cute. “—..Lovely.”

“Ain’t the best?” You scoff. “This is so beautiful, Arthur. Y—You got the bow, too! And the outfit, and the background..” You beam sweetly.

“Thank you so much,” You keep the drawing close to your chest. You note to yourself mentally to buy a picture frame, “This is so beautiful, Arthur. I love it!”

He holds his gaze low, cheeks slowly burning from the praise you squeaked out. He awkwardly shifts, before bidding you a goodbye.

You open the piece of paper one last time, flipping it over to see a message written in cursive which read:

‘Kinda weird to write this but I heard you were free tomorrow. Would you like to walk around the park nearby with me? I’ll probably be around there at 8 in the morning, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. —A.M ◡̈’

For a man like him, you’d never thought his handwriting was alike of a fairy tale novel.

꒰🍰꒱ swishswishswish prattles the pink-tinted brush within your nimble hold. Each delicate tap against the swell of your soft cheeks swell even more with colour, adorning a scent you were far too familiar with— cherry-kissed by love herself.

You are very adamant in looking like a right pixie for today.

Last night you could not get much sleep because of the excitement your heart held. You were dying to meet Arthur again without being in the same frilly uniform you always wore, a face coated with powder not from your beauty products but from pastries you make and serve.

You adorn a floral patterned dress, with a pretty pearl necklace. The hat you wore was similar to a southern belle darling sun-hat, but less brim and less flowers, a simple laced bow tied around the rim instead. And of course, your signature laced bows clipped in your hair.

As pretty as a porcelain doll you were.

Your ballerina-like flats click gently on the cemented pavement down towards the park. The scent of steam and machine slowly transition to more of a petrichor-like smell as you near the park.

There he was, standing around the entrance, admiring the flowers from beyond. You can’t help the soft giggle escaping your lips as he looked behind him and went immediately silent at the sight of your beauty. It was almost coincidental on how the flowers around gently wavered by and shined more brighter once you passed by with a shy smile.

“Hi,” You greet him softly- almost too gentle for his liking. Your hands are positioned behind your back, with the soles of your feet resting on the ground as you tilt your head to maintain eye contact with him. You notice his hair was slicked back a bit, and his attire was more cleaner than usual.

“Hey,” He replies back. He lends out an arm for you to hold, and you do so happily. He looks everywhere but your direction.

He clears his throat with a bit of hesitancy. “Thought you weren’t comin’. Hell, I thought you didn’t even see the message I wrote on the back.”

“Why wouldn’t I go?” You smile eagerly, “It’s nice to be somewhere else for a change. Being cooped up in that bakery can sometimes make me feel dizzy.” That was the longest sentence he’s ever heard you mutter.

“I reckon smelling the same sweets over ‘n’ over again would make ya go crazy” He replies cheekily. His eyes size you up again. Slowly yet surely. A little fairy you were, with beauty no other. He opens his mouth to say something, anything- but he slowly shuts it.

And suddenly, he builds up enough courage to say something.

“You look.. Real pretty.” He quietly mutters. Lovely doe-like eyes stare up at him again- and how quick did his knees almost buckle was a good comparison to his latest duel.

“..You think I look pretty?”

He slowly nods, scratching at the stubble on his chiselled jaw with his other hand, “The prettiest.”

He’s not sure if the glittering pink powder on your cheeks becomes more prominent as seconds pass by. He watches you slowly become sheepish and giddy under his sharp gaze. You fight the curled corner of your lips to turn downwards, but alas you give up immediately as you quite literally melt under his touch.

You shyly stutter out a small “Thank you.” The grip on his arm becomes just a tad bit tighter.

The silence was nothing but comfortable despite it being a bit awkward at the start. After his compliment, you can’t help that fluttering feeling of love bursting inside, up in the skies lays an imaginary cherubim whom shoots those heart-shaped arrows quickly into your heart as you glance at him another time.

And it seemed that the cherubim shot his arrow in his heart, too.

“I loved that drawing you made f’ me yesterday,” You mutter. High-pitched yet so soothing in tone- was your voice. Almost mellifluous, like a serenade similar to those soft jingles heard in the entrance of the bakery, “I never knew you could draw.”

He chuckles lightly, “Yeah, figured. I don’t really look like the type to draw, do I?”

“No, not really.” You softly giggle, “But it’s.. it’s cute.” The way your tone changes pitch at the end makes him conclude of how your intentions were supposed to be.

He quirks a brow. A slow smirk curling on his face.

You catch on immediately. Your cheeks become the same pigment of blush you used, “I-I didn’t mean it like that—”

His soft laugh interrupts you. “No, no. I get ya, I get ya.”

You can’t help but look away from embarrassment. Just a few minutes in and he’s unconsciously teasing you.

“Hey.. Look at me.” He narrows his eyes at your little show.

You don’t.

“C’mooon, it ain’t such a big deal..” He’s about to grab your chin to make you look his way. Though his hand backs away when he sees those beady eyes of yours slowly coming back to maintain eye contact.

He smiles unconsciously at your sweetness. “Yeah. Good girl.”

He unconsciously brushes your cheek with his thumb. You puff your cheeks out immediately, heart hammering in your chest at the title. You cross your arms in-front of your chest, hand resting on your fore-arm. He quietly notes to himself how pretty your hand would be if a ring was seen on your ring finger.

Suddenly, you feel your heart drop. You want to say something, anything.

“Arthur?” Your hand suddenly goes to his sleeve, tugging it softly to get his attention.

“Mhm?” He responds, tilting his head down to meet your gaze.

Suddenly, you feel like your tongues all tied up inside your mouth. Your mind is in shambles and you’ve suddenly forgotten every word in the English dictionary as his pretty eyes stare at you as if you were an ethereal being.

“I.. er,” You fiddle with the small frills of the end of your dress, “N—nevermind.”

“Hey, now.” He comes a bit closer with that boyish charm smile. The faint scent of hair pomade and wood makes you swoon just a bit more, “You can’t just back off like that, c’mon.. tell me.”

“I..” You hesitantly start off. “What.. What are we, Arthur?”

He seemed to be a bit caught off guard with the abrupt question. You catch onto his quietness, and immediately you shrink out of embarrassment. You feel ashamed, flustered for even asking that!

You dare try to look at him in the eyes once more, “I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t apologise.”

You slowly blink when he cuts you off.

He’s a bit difficult to read at this moment as he processes his words. He looks at you a few times, gosh did his heart beat fast.

Then, he slowly opens his mouth. “I.. I ain’t so sure myself. But I just..” He takes a deep breath, “I like you, a lot. Yer a real lovely girl, a good girl. But you shouldn’t be with a man like me, miss.”

You feel yourself falter, “Wh— What? Why?”

He shakes his head. He’s hesitant. He doesn’t want to answer, but for your sake he does.

“I.. ain’t a good man, [name].” He tries to explain to you. “Never was in the start. ‘N I don’t want you gettin’ into trouble just cuz people seen you with me.”

You narrow your eyes, allowing him to continue on and elaborate. You feel like the happiest woman alive, but the saddest.

“I’m..” He looks around to see if anyone was listening, and he leans in just a bit, “I’m an outlaw, sweetheart.”

“…And?”

He’s taken aback once again. The garden amongst you quietens as soon as you uttered out that single word. You feel awfully thankful because of the fact that no one was around you.

You feel like this’ll be the most stupidest decision in your life. Your heart and brain yearns for the man that stands in front of you, who holds you like a porcelain doll and who treats you like the prettiest princess alive.

“I— I don’t care if.. if yer an outlaw.” You stutter out, “You’ve made me feel things I’ve never felt before and I..”

Both his hands come to yours, fingers coming to intertwine with yours. The bold contrast between your skin and size told you everything. Calloused filled, scar-stricken hairy hands paired with hands that were always smoothened, delicately cared with little to no blemishes. He squeezes your hands firmly.

“Darlin’..” He sighs, “I don’t want you to get hurt ‘cuz of me, ‘s all I’m saying.”

“Please, Arthur.” You plead silently. You’re not even sure what you’re begging for at this moment. You want him, and he wants you. He looks so conflicted, his demeanour falls as soon as you use those puppy eyes you were blessed with. Long lashes slowly fall down, which rises and shows those glistening pearls of coloured irises.

“..Damn.” He kisses his teeth out of pure irritation over the situation. Not because of you, never. But because of the decisions which ultimately resulted in the worst. He looks at you one more time.

“You’re real needy thing y’know that?” He grunts lowly before leaning in slowly to press his lips on your forehead. Immediately do you melt in his arms, you cling onto him like the princess you were.

He holds you closely. Your face meets his chest, and his arms are wrapped around your waist, “You really wanna get with me huh?”

“Yes,” You reply, out of breath at the touch. “More than anything.” You continue on with a sweet whimper which makes his desires go crazy in his mind.

“You’re gon’ be in for a real long ride, sweetheart.” He mutters softly in your ear.

You don’t hesitate to answer back. “I don’t mind.”

“You really sure?” He asks one more time, “Y’can’t back out once yer with me. You’re mine from then on, y’hear?”

“All yours.” You nod once again.

꒰🍰꒱ “I’ve been thinking.”

The brush in your hand is slow in movement, before placed down gently on the table below. A brow is quirked at the sound of your beau’s voice which rattled in your head.

It’s been over few months or so since you’ve gotten together. When he couldn’t visit, he’d send letters with the sweetest words. You’ve kept them all in a small box which cheekily peaked out in the corner of your room, right on top of your mahogany wardrobe.

“You oughta meet m’ family.” He bluntly states.

“Your family?” You tilt your head.

He nods, scratching at the stubble on his angular jaw. Your eyes catch the slight tremble his hand had when it was coming to his jaw, and you can’t help but be even more curious.

“Lemme rephrase that.. Reckon you should come meet my gang. They’re my family, in a way.”

You hesitate at the word ‘gang’. Obviously, by that word alone it insinuated meanings which you were taught to be aware.

“Don’t you worry, they’re all nice people,” He brings up a hand to place on-top of yours, “You don’t have meet ‘em if you don’t feel ready yet, ‘m just saying.”

You shyly smile up at him.

“I’ll meet them.”

His crinkled eyes widen in surprise, “You will?”

“Mhm,” You nod, “Oh- Just give me some time to prepare, will you?”

“Right, right. You go do your little princess activities which’ll span for over a whole five hours.” He teases. He earns a glare from your puppy face, something he’s all too familiar with.

“Quiet, you.”

“The hell are you even doing in there? Does it really have to take you a whole two hours to pick an outfi— Ouch.” A sock clumsily hits his face.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take you a whole five hours to get ready. Before you could grab the necklace on your desk, Arthur reaches from behind to grab those dainty pearls of yours before clasping it behind your neck himself. He slowly leans in to delicately place a soft kiss on your sensitive neck before standing up to dust himself.

“Y’ready, sweetheart?” He asks with a low drawl.

“Mhm!” You smile happily, clinging to his arm.

Outside from the building you lived in has a small horse post outside to hitch said animals. He leads you to a horse far more taller than him, quite literally towering over you. With the least of efforts, he picks you up from the waist to plop you on the saddle, before he himself hitches on the magnificent mare.

It took over an hour to travel to some sort of densely packed trail. You can’t help but tilt your head at the location, tilting your head up to question the man who lazily rode the horse behind you. His chest was quite a good alternative for a pillow.

“..You live here?”

He snorts, “Er.. Kinda. You’ll see.”

Not long do you see a large campsite, you feel yourself shrink at the sound of.. new people.

Sure you worked at a job where you had to talk to people. But you weren’t the best at keeping up a conversation with.. criminals, you could say.

“Arthur’s back, Arthur’s back!” A little boy’s voice rings through your ears, you can’t help but curiously peak from his shoulder to see whom it was. A young boy with brown hair- blue coat and a tooth missing. He eagerly points to the man as he enters in the vicinity.

“Ooh, ‘n he’s brought a girl..” The young boy ushers a woman far too familiar to come over.

“He what now?” The sound of a few footsteps were heard- oh gosh did you feel as nervous as a doe trying to not stumble on its legs.

“A girl?”

“Don’t tell me we’ve got another mouth to feed.”

“She’s real purdy.”

“She seems fancy..”

“[name]?”

You jump at the sound of your name being called- you look behind to see.. Mary-Beth!

“Oh!” Arthur hops down, picking you up from the horse to settle you onto the ground. You eagerly smile at the woman you knew well.

“What are you doing here?!” The book-worm asks with a squeal, rushing to you for a hug.

“I— I could ask you the same thing!” You stammer as you feel yourself getting lifted up a bit from the ground, hugging her tightly back.

Arthur coughs to interrupt the soft chattering, “I’d like you all to meet m’ girl. No touching, ‘cept for the girls ‘n Jack.”

“Ha! Knew you had a thing for her—” You hear a raspy voice from afar, near the little boy you presumed was named Jack. You’ve seen him before, and if you could recall.. His name was John. A flick to the forehead is what you see between your beloved and him.

“Tilly ‘n the others are here somewhere finishing chores up,” Mary-Beth beckons a few of the girls to come over. Karen was the first to bid you a ‘hello!!!’

“Y’got any cake for us?” She jokingly asks. Her eyes widen when she realises she’s spoken too soon when she sees the few boxes of treats which were stacked and tied with a pink bow neatly on top of Arthur’s horse.

“[name], I think ‘m gonna kiss you.” Karen walks away to grab one box for herself. You let out a giggle as you go and greet the other girls.

Fortunately for you, everyone was welcoming and homey well um, except for one. But you’ve heard from most that he’s always like that.

“It’s quite a surprise for Arthur to bring a woman back to camp,” An old man to which you’ve became comfortable talking with for a while sits next to you. Hosea was his name, for some reason does he remind you of your grandfather.

“Oh? How so?” You shyly question. His warm eyes stare at your figure endearingly.

“Well for starters, he usually scares them off.”

“Hosea.” Your love comes to your side, embarrassed at his words.

“It’s quite true! Here, let me tell her about the story of when you…”

For the rest of the day, you were treated carefully and lovingly. You weren’t sure what you’d expect from a gang filled with criminals and thieves, but you could surely say that they were a sweet group of people.

You’ll be expecting a large sum of visitors on the following days, and perhaps a small ring soon enough.

473 notes · View notes

shinsocest · 11 months ago

Text

No. 001

Notes: first of many reuploads, fave of personal faves ♡ commission for @kailali from once upon a time ♡♡♡

7.7k

warnings: stepcest, marking, piercings, creampies, fem reader, reader is lifted, degradation & praise, oral (both), multiple orgasms, hard s*x soft feelings

It had been a long day.

You sigh and let your bag fall to the entry floor as you toe off your shoes. As the only quirkless member of the Todoroki family you never had a shot at hero work, but that never meant you had no interest in the hero industry. You finally made it into your preferred field a few months ago, a new hire at your stepmother’s ex’s agency in their crisis management department. Whenever a hero or sidekick makes a mistake or a villain causes too much damage before they’re apprehended, you’re behind the scenes doing as much as you can to fix the lives of those affected.

All in all… paperwork is a bitch.

An irritated puff expels through your nose as you nearly trip over an extra pair of shoes in the foyer, but your irritation dispels when you lay eyes on a worn pair of charcoal converse. You sigh.

“Touya?” you call out as you pad down the hall.

“Living room.” His voice is tired, a sleep laden rasp in his throat.

You sweep through the open kitchen, drop your keys on the counter, and make your way to the living room. You lean in the doorway when you catch sight of him sprawled out on your couch, half under one of the softer throws your stepmom got you for Christmas a couple years ago. The light from the tv bathes him in a silver sheen, highlighting his jet-black hair and glinting off the triple helix on his ear, the gift you’d gotten him for his last birthday.

Touya shifts a little more upright as you come into his line of sight and reaches for the lamp on the side table. The soft yellow light helps, makes him look warmer. The picturesque tattoos of burning hemlock dancing up his forearms and disappearing under his shirt look more lively, and you can see the smile on his face as he looks at you.

But he still looks tired.

“Long day?”

You scoff and then laugh a little, your shoulders sagging as you slouch over to the couch. He opens the blanket in invitation and you crawl in beside him, sighing as he wraps an arm around you, your head dropping onto his shoulder.

“Yeah,” you mumble softly, sighing again as he kisses the top of your head. You return the kiss with one to the side of his neck, your lips pressing to the inky vines winding down his throat. “You?”

“Yeah,” he mutters. His voice is a comfortable rumble against your back. “Somethin’ like that.”

Touya uses your apartment as a personal hideout, ever since you leased the place. At his age he's expected to be living on his own by now, but Rei has a soft spot for her eldest son and won't push him out of the nest. Since he promised you he wouldn't argue with your father, he ends up at your place more often than not. Your dad is the type to be optimistic, encouraging, and stern, and Touya doesn't have the best track record with nurturing authority types—or authority figures in general really—given how strict Endeavor was when it came to raising his children.

He squints at the screen as if just noticing it was on. "Movie's comin' on. Wanna watch it with me?"

"Sure. I think I wanted to see this one, but let me change first."

A short trip to your room is enough to shed your office clothes and slip into a tank top and sleep shorts before you're back in his arms, wiggling until you're comfortable and he’s grumbling at you to settle the fuck down.

It may seem odd from the outside looking in to be this close, but it's always been this way with your step-siblings. Natuso and Fuyumi were the middle children, working hard on their futures when your parents hit it off, so it made sense that the eldest and youngest were the ones who latched onto you the hardest.

Shoto was polite in the beginning—earnest, really—and before long he was looking to you for approval even after he graduated from Yuuei. Touya saw you as another little sibling to look after, in his own way. From the moment you’d moved in, it felt like he was doing his best to make sure there was a place in their family where you fit. You always got the sense it was because he felt like an outlier himself. You were just happy to be accepted, and you adored them both, all of them of course.

Barely halfway through the movie, Touya shifts and his hand slides around to your stomach to hold you more comfortably. It makes you warm, dangerously so.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t enjoy how touchy-feely Touya always is, and he always seems to be seeking physical comfort from you. He holds your hand when he walks you to the store, always needs a hug before he leaves, and if he doesn't get a kiss on his cheek before he’s out the door, he will pout at you (aka lots of snark and rolled eyes) until you give in.

“You’re shifting a lot tonight, doll. You good?” Touya hums behind you, sounding distracted and you realize you’d been rubbing yourself back against his—

“Sorry!” you whisper, face flaming.

“Don’t worry about it.” After a minute he mutters under his breath about how warm you are. “Don’t tell me you’re my real sister after all, 's like you're on fire.”

“We can take the blanket off—”

“Nah, ‘m fuckin’ freezing, feels good. My hands are cold, can I?”

“You fucker!” you yelp as he pushes his palms under your shirt, his hands like ice on your skin. His smirk is almost tangible behind you as he reprimands you for squirming when he’s doing his best to battle the sudden chill.

“Keep still, would ya?”

You try to kick his shins but he outmaneuvers you, pinning your legs under his own. He chuckles under his breath as the two of you scuffle for a couple moments, tugging you closer until you give up with an exaggerated huff.

“You good now? You’re missing the movie.”

You grumble as you settle, but your heart still races.

During your half-hearted wrestling attempt it had been easy to miss, but now that you’re relaxed into him again you’re becoming aware of the way Touya is heating up behind you. His palm is nearly searing the skin on your navel now, but you’re too distracted by what’s unmistakably digging into your back at the moment.

You know you’re not supposed to get a flutter of anticipation, but it shudders up your spine anyways. Every now and then his hips rock forward like he can’t help himself, and every time they do, that telltale heat building hot and impatient beneath your skin grows.

His fingers are playing with your waistband like they have so many times before. You’re holding your breath as he dips a little lower than usual and you find yourself wondering, telling yourself you’re not hoping for it…but is this the night he’s finally going to cross the line he’s spent so much time dancing around?

You’ve always known. This dance has been happening for a while. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you, and holds you too close, and you feel guilty knowing just how much you enjoy the attention. He always seems to hold himself back though, neither one of you truly acknowledging the heightening desire that builds in the dark.

Your gasp feels loud when his hand firmly slides into your panties—long fingers toying with the apex of your mound, a breath away from the bundle of nerves that feels like a live current desperate for a trigger—but it’s barely more than a tense inhale.

Touya’s lips are almost on your ear, his breath hot as his words push both of you towards an uncharted precipice.

“This okay?”

You know that this is the moment to turn back. If you say something now, he’ll remove his hand and go back to watching the movie.

Your heart pounds rapidly as you think, but something heated and needy coils tight in you. If you deny him now, would he ever have the courage to come after you again? Displeasure rises bitterly at the thought of him distancing himself from you. You want him. Maybe you’ve always wanted him.

“Mhm,” you manage, breathing just a little too hard to be casual, and you feel his grin against your neck.

“That’s my girl.”

Hot pleasure sparks beneath your skin at his words, but it’s nothing compared to the electric shock as his fingers slip between your embarrassingly wet folds.

“That’s my slut,” Touya groans sharply, his tone low and laced with thinly veiled desire. “Do you know how wet you are? I always knew you were a needy little thing.”

You whine as he parts your folds, tracing over your hole and up to your clit. It’s almost twitching with the desire to be touched, white hot and wanting. “Touya, please.”

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to hear that,” he mumbles, tongue pressing to your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there as he obliges you. You moan breathily and uncontrolled as he circles the bud delicately, again and again. “You sound so good sayin’ my name like that, doll.”

He’s rocking his hips into you steadily now, grinding against your back.

Heat and frustration is building steadily as your step-sibling continues to play with you, and you realize that he is quite literally playing with you—switching between the way he touches your clit, moving from circling it gently to tapping it, rolling it between his fingers.

Touya knows to be thorough, to find out exactly what you like, to make this unforgettable. He’s listening and paying close attention to the way you react to his every touch. Every now and then slender fingers slide down and he presses a digit or two into your soaked cunt, now dripping obscenely, curling them lazily as he searches for what makes your body sing.

Even with his lazy movements, you can feel something coiling tight inside you. Whatever this is between you, it's been too long coming, your hips jerking as pleasure threatens to undo you. But before you can be taken apart, Touya slips his fingers from your waistband.

You whine at the loss, whipping your head towards him only for him to grasp your chin and pull you closer, his tongue prying your lips apart and delving inside. His fingers are still slick from your juices, gripping your chin tighter as he shifts you under him, supporting his weight on one arm as he kisses you like this is his last chance to.

You don’t have the coherency to tell him it’s not, dizzy with want by the time he pulls back. His sapphire eyes darken when you wrap a leg around his hips to instinctively keep him close, his lips glistening in the flickering light of the tv.

“Tell me you want this.” He stares down at you intently, holding your gaze as he waits for your admission.

There’s no point in denying it anymore. Of course you do.

“I want you.”

Touya grabs at your thigh curled around him and pushes it off, smirking at your pout as he sits back on the couch. “‘S cute, but don’t make that face. Strip all that off, and c’mere.”

You all but scramble as he pats his lap, pulling your shirt over your head and bra following quickly, equal parts pleased and embarrassed when you see the way his gaze is locked on you, trailing down your exposed skin. As you slip the last of your clothing down your legs and step out of it you look at him, confused when he just sits there watching you.

“Aren’t you gonna…” you trail off, eyebrows furrowing.

Touya perks an eyebrow at you. “Didn’t I say c’mere? We were watchin’ a movie, weren’t we?”

His voice is too light, and you know that tone. He’s up to something, but big brother Touya is always up to something. And he always gets his way. So instead of questioning him again, you do what he wants and you settle into his lap, only making a small noise of complaint when he faces you away from him.

He clicks his teeth. “Don’t be a brat now, you were being such a good girl earlier.”

“You’re not being fair,” you mumble, squirming. “Why’m I the only one naked?”

“Cause you’re prettier than me.” He’s teasing and you know it.

Your protest is cut off as he yanks you back against his chest and cups your breasts, slender fingers pulling at your nipples and rolling them.

“Fuck!”

“My cute little whore has such a dirty mouth,” Touya purrs in your ear. “Just sit still. Lemme touch.”

You try, you really do. He kneads at your breasts, smoothes his hands down your body, exploring you languidly. It’s impossible.

“Touya—” you break off with a squeak as he bites your shoulder in reprimand. “Hey!”

Touya laves his tongue over the stinging mark and coos. “Aw did that hurt?”

“A little…”

“Want my cock to make it better?”

You suck in a breath. It comes out of his mouth like a sweet invitation, but there’s just enough insecurity in his cocky tone for you to hear (that only you could hear) that you know he’s uncertain of your answer. His heart is pounding against your back, further betraying his underlying anxiety.

Not one to torture your loved ones, you squirm back on him. “Make it better, Touya. Make me feel better.”

“Say it,” he demands, turning your head to look at him.

Blue eyes glare down at you desperately, searching for any hint that you’re playing him. You’re quick to douse the flames of doubt.

“Fuck me,” you whine. “I want your cock.”

“Shit,” Touya breathes, flopping back against the couch, hiking you further up his lap so he can reach the button of his jeans and pop it open.

You moan at the feeling of something warm and hard sliding between your thighs as he shifts you back into place, before spreading your legs over his own.

"Eyes on the movie, doll," Touya rasps, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. "You wanted to watch it, remember?"

You wanted the chance to see him, the disappointment welling in your chest evaporating as quickly as it appears at the feel of him pushing the head in and out of your soaking heat.

"What about you?" Your last word cuts off in a gasp as he pushes into you fully, his girth spreading you open.

"Was never watchin’ the movie," he breathes, a groan hitching in his throat as the walls of your cunt squeezes him in a vice grip.

It feels different, and not just taboo different.

"Touya, what's that?" You moan as something—several cool to the touch somethings—rub against the front wall of your pussy, making your toes curl as pleasure bolts from nerve to nerve.

“I’ll show you later,” he groans impatiently, his hands fumbling on your hips to hold you still. “J-just, fuck— Lay back, would you?”

You comply, and Touya sinks lower on the couch, his feet on the floor to give him the leverage to fuck into you, each stroke slow and languid. Pleasure courses through your veins, hot and sticky, your eyes pinching closed as you focus on the feel of him.

He’s so long and wonderfully girthy—just enough to feel stretched, the fat head of his cock touching deep every time he sinks into you—but you can’t get over the scrape of those…god, what are those?

You can’t think, your moans splitting the thick air of the living room, legs quivering under his touch as he smooths his palms along your spread thighs. You’re both lost in a loop of exhilaration and long awaited satisfaction, your hips jerking into his every time he sinks in deep and grinds.

His teeth meet your shoulder again, digging into the same grooves he left behind before. Your thoughts are sluggish beyond the haze of pleasure but it feels like he’s marking you, leaving something of himself behind. The thought chases away the sharp sting, winds a sudden coil in your gut, and you suck in a breath as something white flashes behind your eyelids.

“Touya!”

“Yeah, I feel it,” Touya moans behind you—moans, and the sound of it has you clenching around him hard, forcing a choked groan from his lips. “Fuck yeah, doll. Keep squeezin’ my cock like that. Perfect little slut, touch yourself for me.”

With shaky hands you begin to circle your own clit, lightly, the added stimulation threatening to unravel you right now, but you don’t want this to end. Not yet. It feels so good; whines and broken iterations of his name are all you feel capable of.

“Tell me how it feels.” There’s a desperate edge in his voice now, tight with desire and something else, something that sets you alight from head to toe.

“It feels so good! So warm, ‘m gonna—” It’s a borderline sob now, with you feeling as if you’re dangling on the edge of something dangerous. You’re almost scared of the blooming sparks in your belly, but you wretchedly race towards them anyways.

Touya’s thrusts grow a little frenzied, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you loud in your ears. He’s panting, his groans ragged, barely holding on himself.

“Tell me you love me.”

His voice is rough, but so impossibly tender—needy. Your mind short circuits at the sound, pleasure igniting in your belly and your hand reaches back to tangle in his hair as you fall apart.

Touya groans, one hand tight on your hip as you spasm around his cock, his other reaching around to replace yours, gently circling your clit to help you ride out your orgasm.

“Touya! I love you, Touya—oh, god!”

Touya stiffens and shudders as pleasure melts the base of his spine, zipping up along it, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he spills inside you with a low whimper. “F-fuck—”

You both sag into the couch, chests heaving as you wind down from your respective highs. You squirm at the feeling of him softening in you before he grumbles something unintelligible and pulls you down onto your side with him.

His heart races against your back as he pushes a pillow into place—letting you use his arm as one yourself—and you wonder if he can feel the way yours is threatening to beat out of your chest.

He’s still pressed stubbornly close to you, the rough edge of his jeans pressing into the back of your thighs as he tries to stay buried in your pussy for as long as he can, but he still remains silent behind you, his breath hot on your neck.

“I love you, Touya.”

You say it again, softly this time. You want him to hear it when you’re not swimming in pleasure; you want him to hear just how much you mean it.

Touya hums, a low contented sound. “Always knew ya did.”

He sounds like he always does, snarky, but there’s a warmth in his voice that betrays his happiness.

“So what now?”

“Now we finish your damn movie, and then you need a shower. You’re kinda a mess right now,” he purrs devilishly in your ear, making you shiver even as a new bolt of heat strikes down your spine.

“And then?” You moan as he finally slips out of you, cheeks heating at the feel of his cum spilling out between your thighs.

Touya reaches a hand between your legs, lazily sliding his fingers through the mess. “And then I fuck you the way I really wanted to. I need to see the face you make when I make you cum. Hope you know I’m not usually this sweet ‘nd gentle, right? Think you can take it?”

“So you were just being nice to me?” you tease gently, pushing your ass back towards him. “Do you think I’m that delicate?”

“You better not be.”

“Try me.”

A low groan pulls from his throat and Touya bundles you off the couch. You scramble to your feet before you can fall, and turn to look at him.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, sapphire eyes dark and blown, desire etched into the hard lines on his face. His jeans are low on his hips and he tugs his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the couch.

Your eyes trace over the garden of ink on his torso, a swirling mass of flames and flowers that you’ve spent plenty of time admiring in the past. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, used to Touya lounging around the house in the warmer months in nothing but a pair of shorts, but with the darky, needy look in his eyes as he prowls towards you… It’s different now. He’s not stripping to get comfortable.

Anticipation thrills up your spine.

“Shower, now,” Touya rasps, herding you down the hallways towards your room. “And I better not catch you whinin’ cause I ain’t stoppin’ ‘til I’m through with you.”

Sunlight pours through the small gap of your bedroom blinds, but that’s not what wakes you. You’re far too used to it for that. You’re not sure what it is exactly that has you blinking awake.

Maybe it has something to do with the arm wrapped around your waist, or the thigh curled over your own. It could be the mild soreness between your legs, or possibly the stinging sensation of multiple bite marks across your body, courtesy of the perpetrator currently lightly snoring into your shoulder.

You gently turn over, detangling yourself from his limbs as quietly as possible. Touya has always been a somewhat heavy sleeper, so it’s not like it’s hard; but he really isn't a good morning person, so the last thing you want to do is wake him.

He mumbles something and flips onto his stomach, not waking for a moment.

You gaze at him for a moment, eyes soft. His hair is a mess, inky strands sprawled across the section of his face not buried in the pillow. After smoothing the wayward tresses covering his eyes, you sit up slowly, your gaze drawn to the ink twisting up his back. Your fingers trace the lines with quiet reverence.

It really is beautiful; you know it took Touya a long time to get it all done. The hemlock on his forearms drooping and smoking from the surrounding flame turn to vines as they spread out up his biceps, shoulders, and throat. You know on his front the vines swirl throughout a meadow of baby’s breath and gladioli down his collarbone and chest, but on his back they weave around a breathtaking lotus that’s shedding its petals one by one, the ones that fall gathering in a pile at the dip of his spine.

“Ya done starin’?”

You jump as he rolls onto his side to smirk at you, eyes droopy and tired. Touya chuckles at your expression and tugs you to his chest, giving a low groan as he tries to get comfortable again.

“Touya, wait—”

“Just go back to sleep, alright? It’s still fuckin’ early,” he mumbles gruffly, closing his eyes.

But your eyes are wide open, filled with panic. “I said wait, Touya!” you hiss desperately, struggling in his hold to sit back up.

You can feel the heat of mortification storming across your body as you maintain eye contact with the youngest Todoroki, who’s standing silently in the doorway of your bedroom.

His two-tone eyes are unreadable, but you know your younger brother well enough by now to know that the slight pull of his eyebrows means he’s shocked, that the miniscule purse of his lips means he’s upset.

Not that you can blame him. Walking in on your step-sister naked in bed with your older brother is not exactly prime model behavior.

“S-shoto,” you whisper, pitched and panicked. “I, uh…”

Oh, god, there’s no good way to explain this. You’re frozen, too petrified to even shield your body from his hard stare. You’re covered in bites and bruises, hair a mess and you can almost feel your relationship with Shoto shattering to dust when Touya groans dramatically and shoves his face in the pillow.

“Seriously, Shoto, your timing is fuckin’ awful. It’s too goddamn early for this. Try again later.”

Shoto glares at his brother and you can only gape at him as he drops his bag in the doorway and sits on the edge of your bed, right by your side. “You’re too impatient, nii-san. We agreed that we were going to wait.”

“Plans change.” Touya’s words are still muffled into the pillow, resiliently clinging to the notion that sleep is not yet lost. “Snooze ‘nd you lose.”

“Wait, what?”

Shoto doesn’t answer your question, a pout forming on his lips as he traces the teeth marks on your shoulder with a gentle touch. He doesn’t miss the slight wince of your expression; Touya had marked that same spot several times over last night.

“He was so rough with you,” Shoto says softly. “I would have been gentle.”

Touya snorts and raises his head. “Fuck off, I was gentle. …the first time.”

Shoto rolls his eyes. “Kinda hard to believe when she’s covered in teeth marks.”

You’re too busy reeling to take much notice of their bickering.

It’s Shoto; straight-laced, kind, upstanding Shoto. The Todoroki family’s shining star. Why isn’t he telling you how sick this is, and demanding to know what you were thinking crossing the bounds of family in such a forbidden manner?

Shoto notices your rising agitation and murmurs something soothing, trying to catch your attention by cradling your face in his palms. His eyebrows furrow gently at the sight of your quickly welling tears.

“We love you.” He says it simply, like that’s all there is to know.

Touya sits up swiftly since he obviously isn’t going to get to go back to sleep, and croons at you as he kisses the back of your neck, “Want us to prove it, doll?”

Shoto glares at his brother over your shoulder, unimpressed. “You already got to be with her.”

“And I’m gonna have her again. If you want her at all you’re gonna learn how to fuckin’ share, little brother.”

Why didn’t you see it all before?

Shoto has always clung to you. He was almost as desperate for your attention as Touya right from the start. He always insisted you help him study, even when you were certain he knew the material already; he would ask you to cook dinner with him on his nights.

When he graduated he insisted you visit him every weekend so you wouldn’t drift apart; it was him who suggested his father’s agency for your internship, where he debuted as a hero a few years ago. He even wrote your recommendation letter. He would always swing by in the morning with your coffee order, and without fail walked you to your car every night.

His love just wasn’t as obvious, at least not to you. His hugs were quick, like he didn’t want to be touched; his kisses might as well have been ghostlike, like he couldn’t handle being that close. You always thought he was just copying his big brother, but out of obligation, not desire.

“You love me?” You whisper the words looking at Shoto, but the question is for both of them.

"Of course—"

“Don’t be stupid, doll,” Touya mumbles, cutting him off and sucking another bruise into a miraculously unmarked portion of your neck. “‘Course we do.”

Shoto quietly brushes a stray tear from the apple of your cheeks, his lips following soon after. They’re warm, soft against your skin.

He smiles.

“You weren’t around when we were growing up, so it’s not obvious to you how much we’ve changed for the better since you joined our family. I can’t imagine the person I’d be right now if it weren’t for the way I feel about you.”

“Shoto…”

Shoto pulls back, his smile still warming his face, but smaller, calmer. “Especially Touya. I think if it weren’t for you, he would have left us a long time ago. Our father wasn’t…well, you brought him back.”

You stiffen in surprise, and Touya grumbles under his breath, trying to cover his embarrassment with coarseness. “Brat. Don’t go spoutin’ that shit now.”

Shoto makes a low huff of amusement before tugging you out of the eldest’s arms, ignoring Touya’s growl of protest.

“Let me have you to myself for just a minute,” Shoto breathes.

And then he’s kissing you. His touch is so sweet and he’s so warm that you can’t help but melt into him. No part of him is shying away from you now as he pushes himself between your legs, strong arms guiding you back down to the bed.

He’s unyielding as his tongue traces the seam of your lips, a heady desperation fueling him that you can’t help but get swept up in, parting your lips for him with a breathy moan. Shoto hums, his tongue meeting yours tentatively until your fingers curl into the collar of his shirt and tug him closer, and he crumbles. The kiss grows wet, fervent, your head swimming as he refuses to relent, content to taste you even as your legs curl around his waist, spelling your impatience.

“Calm down,” he mumbles against your lips, giving you a small break as he nips gently at your neck, his tongue soothing the bite marks decorating your throat. “There’s no need to rush any of this.”

“I don’t want to wait.” You gasp as his lips move lower, sucking and kissing at your collarbone, down the valley of your breasts, down your navel. Sparks follow the trail he’s making, down to where he stops, his eyes staring in disapproval of more bites scattered across the insides of your thighs.

His eyes are sharp as they look to you then Touya when your head falls back onto your pillows, covering your face in embarrassment.

“Is there no part of her you left untouched?”

Shoto glares at him, but Touya stares back, both smug and aroused.

“Nope.”

“You’re an animal.”

“She liked it.”

“Oh my god, stop talking!” you whine, forearms still covering your face. Excitement and arousal is making your body hot and you’re desperate for Shoto to keep going, but you know they could bicker forever. You’ve seen it plenty of times.

His mismatched eyes soften as they flash back to you, and he leans to pull your arms down. When he’s satisfied you’re watching him he continues, pressing his lips to the juncture where your thighs meet your mound.

Your chest feels tight with anticipation as his fingers grope at your thighs, kneading the plush flesh before sliding around to cup your ass. You moan when he inhales the scent of your growing arousal before his tongue peeks out to part your folds, flattening and dragging up through your slit. As he reaches the bundle of nerves at the top, he retreats, blowing on the nub lightly. Shoto’s head swims at the sound of your whine, so he does it again, desperate to hear you make that sound again.

Shoto’s fingers dig into the swell of your ass as he groans and pulls you closer, his tongue delving into your dripping cunt and lapping at your juices. You’re propped on your forearms, watching him with hazy eyes as he tastes you, your chest heaving at the assault of sensations.

He’s gentler than Touya, but that doesn’t make it any less intense. Your fingers grip the sheets tightly as he slurps at your cunt, his tongue blistering on your slit as he draws it up to flick over your swollen clit. You keen when he seals his lips around it and sucks, the touch hot and wet.

The sloppy sounds of him savoring you make your body ignite, your arousal spilling onto the sheets even though you haven’t cum. You’re desperate to, but Shoto’s movements are slow and deliberate—you can tell he’s nowhere near finished.

Teal and brown eyes are not quite closed but far-seeing, as if he’s lost in something—in you. The sight of it tightens something in you, has your shaking fingers reaching for him until they tangle in the crimson strands of his left side. Shoto’s groan devolves into a whine as you tug him closer, the vibrations of his noises making your eyes roll back. The younger Todoroki doesn’t resist your grasp, he leans into it, his tongue moving deeper, more desperate.

You make a noise of approval, your hips jumping when his fingers slip into you, prodding at your walls until your legs snap closed around his cheeks. He looks drunk cushioned between your thighs, the wet sounds and his moans melding together and making your mind melt.

“Fuckin’ shit,” Touya rasps beside you, on his knees now as his fingers form a tight ring around the head of his cock.

Your head turns to him, moaning when he shuffles towards you and presses the head of his cock against your lips.

“Open up, doll. You’re killin’ me, sound so good like that.”

With a soft whimper, you part your lips and he feeds his cock into your mouth with a relieved sigh. As he pushes deeper you drag your tongue over each metal bar on the underside of his cock, gentle with the balled ends, counting five as they push deeper.

Last night in the shower Touya finally let you have a look, grinning at your wide eyed expression as you carefully brushed your fingers along his Jacob's ladder. He’d hissed under his breath as you nudged the last set, the lorum at the base of his shaft.

“Easy, that one’s new.”

That’s what you’re reaching for now as his fingers thread through your hair, his groans rough as he pulls you deeper onto his cock, your tongue swirling at the furthermost metal beads. You preen as he curses at the wet touch of your tongue ghosting the edge of his balls.

Touya pulls out slowly before thrusting back into your mouth; you’re trying your best not to gag, swallowing rapidly as his head touches the back of your throat.

“That’s a good slut,” Touya hisses, holding your head flush to his pelvis. His cock throbs at the feel of your throat closing around him, his head tossing back. “Pay attention to me.”

You whimper around Touya’s cock as Shoto gives a harsh suck on your clit, uncharacteristic of his attentions so far, and your watery gaze flicks downward to see Shoto leveling a heated stare at his brother again.

Touya takes notice, a lopsided grin spreading across his face as leers back at his little brother. “What, don’t like me calling it like it is? She really is a good little whore for me, you know. You should’ve heard the way she screamed for me last night.”

You moan around his length as one of Touya’s hands closes around your neglected breasts, his fingers pulling at the hardened nubs to hear the desperate sounds you make as he rocks in and out of your mouth.

“You shouldn’t call her that,” Shoto mumbles, his eyes glazed as he watches you writhe under his brother’s touch. His chin and cheeks are smeared with your arousal. The beginning beads of sweat have his hair sticking to his forehead.

Touya shrugs.

“She seems fine with it. Hasn’t complained.” He eases out of your throat and watches you inhale sharply, taking in the much needed oxygen.

“Still.”

The younger one sits up and slides off the bed, a smile tugging at his lips at your whine of protest. Shoto pulls his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair and dropping it to your floor before popping the button of his jeans, hooking his thumbs in the waistband to push them off.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve only just started,” Shoto breathes, returning to the bed with a new fire in his eyes.

You inhale shakily at the sight of him exposed, the rippling muscle a sharp contrast to Touya’s lean figure. The eldest is healthy, and in no way out of shape, but Shoto’s strict training regimen has his body in peak physical condition.

There’s clean white and pink scars littering his chest from his escapades as a hero, but it does nothing to take away from his beauty. As he steps closer to you, your eyes trail downward to his pelvis where his cock bobs between his legs looking painfully hard, the pretty pink tip drooling. Your eyes widen; it looks heavy, thick, unable to bear its own weight and leaning to the left. At the base is a well-kept patch of hair that matches his split coloration just like the rest of his body hair.

As if sensing your trepidation at his brother’s size, Touya narrows his eyes and rests back on his haunches so you can take a moment to get adjusted. Shoto pulls you to the edge of the bed, spreading your thighs and standing between them as his hungry stare roves over your glistening cunt before snapping up to meet your gaze. He slides his length between your dripping folds and takes in a harsh breath at the feel of you.

His voice is soft, a light tremble to it the only tell of his nerves. “Do you want me to use a—”

“No,” you mumble shyly, fighting the urge to cover your face as his cheeks pinken at your immediate denial. “I wanna feel you, Sho’.”

“Okay,” he returns, sounding dazed. “Okay.”

Shoto drags the thick head of his cock through your juices again, lubricating himself fully before pressing himself against your fluttering hole, completely focused on the way you respond as he eases himself into your warmth.

You moan loudly at the immediate stretch, head thrown back as he slowly enters you. His eyebrows furrow at your tight heat, and he groans lowly in his chest as he coaches himself internally not to just hilt himself in you.

A strangled sound works its way up both your throats as he drags his hips back and pushes in again, trying to work himself deeper.

“Sho,” you gasp, fingers digging into the sheets as he sinks another inch into you, your eyes screwing shut. He’s so thick you don’t understand it. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s overwhelming, fighting the urge to let your eyes roll back into your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” Shoto chokes out, gripping your thighs tightly to ground himself. “So tight, so perfect. Feels like you’re made for me.”

“Holy fuck.” The words come from Touya, and you barely register the slick sound as the eldest slowly works his fist over his cock. Sapphire eyes lock on to where your drooling cunt is struggling to accommodate even two thirds of his younger brother’s cock.

You can feel yourself getting more desperate, wanting to ground yourself to something, but there’s nothing to hold onto.

Touya eyes the way your chest heaves, goosebumps rising on his skin at the hiccuping mewls you keep making. With an amused huff, he drops his cock and shifts closer until he’s sitting at your side. Shoto glares at him as he gets closer gripping your thighs possessively, but the heat falls short, the feeling of your slick walls too much.

“Just keep going,” Touya mutters gruffly, staring down at your trembling figure as opposed to making eye contact with his little brother. “You should be doin’ this yourself, but as much as I like watchin’ her squirm, she likes it when I touch her.”

His slender fingers trace over your mound before his thumb presses into your throbbing clit.

“F-fuck!” you warble out as heat strikes low in your belly, and Shoto echoes you with a groan as your cunt flutters around him as if trying to suck him deeper.

“There’s that dirty mouth,” Touya coos, voice dripping with playful condescension. He rubs slow, soothing circles around your clit, his eyes almost predatory with hunger. “That feel better? Bet you’re soaking now. Want him to just shove it in you, hmm?”

“Y-yes, yes!” you whine, teary eyes flickering from Touya to Shoto, desperate, pleading. “Want more, Shoto, please. Deeper!”

Shoto shakes at the pure need in your tone, his thighs tensing as his cock throbs. “Shit, sweetheart. Are you sure?”

“Please!”

“You heard her.” Touya retracts his hand, sucking the traces of your arousal off his fingers as he retreats further onto the bed.

Shoto barely hears him, adjusting his grip so that he’s holding your hips as he firmly fucks himself deeper. The gape of your lips, the tears clinging to your lashes: that’s all he can see as he’s finally seated in your pussy. It feels like the heat of you is going to melt him. He groans as you wrap your thighs around his waist and leans down to capture your lips.

You’re taking him like it’s nothing now, your tits pressed against his chest as you arch into him, hips bucking into his as he fucks you slow. His kiss is hot, quick, desperate, but he has to fuck you slow or he’s going to lose it. His body tingles with pleasure as your moans spill into his throat, your nails raking down his back as you ground yourself.

Shoto’s mind swims as you mewl his name against his lips over and over. His head feels full of cotton as his thrusts begin to get a little sharper, jostling the bed. His grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you steadily back into each thrust, pupils blowing out at the way your cries get more desperate, your back arching as your walls clamp and spasm around him. There’s a gush of slick coating his pelvis and the tops of his thighs now, but Shoto doesn’t stop; his hands slip under your back, grasping you tightly as he pulls you up off the bed completely.

You sink deeper onto his cock with a high squeal, and Shoto cups your ass to hold you up a little, widening his stance so he can fuck into you steadily. You whimper at the overstimulation, your teeth finding his collarbone as Shoto mumbles breathlessly.

"A little more, sweetheart. Just a little more, you're doing so good."

Touya snorts. "Now who's an animal?"

Shoto whines and turns, sitting back onto the bed and laying back, raising your hips so he can watch his length pumping into you. Your release is shining between your thighs, everywhere really, sticking to his thighs and matting the red and white of his pubic hair.

When your moans cut off, Shoto looks up to see your lips pressed to Touya's. The elder brother has his fingers between your legs again, rubbing on your clit as he curls your fist around his cock, guiding your hand to stroke it with his own.

The tension in Shoto's gut stretches thin when he picks up Touya's low rasp, biting out between the gaps of his rough kisses.

"C'mon doll, squeeze him for me— You want a break, you gotta make him cum. You wanna make him cum, don't'cha?"

"Yeah, wanna feel him cum," you whimper, tearing your lips from Touya's to stare down at Shoto with pleading eyes. "Want your cum Sho', please."

"S-shit, sweetheart."

Shoto half sits up in his aim to reach for you, his finger’s curling around the back of your neck and pulling you back down with him as he licks into your mouth. His other arm wraps around your hips, holding you down onto him as he grinds his cock into you, moaning shamelessly down your throat at the way your walls are milking him.

“Oh fuck, oh shit—” Shoto breaks from your lips with a low cry, clutching you to his chest; white dots his vision as he gives in, his cock jerking as he unravels, several spurts of hot cum shooting deep into your pussy. “Oh god, you feel so good. You did so good.”

A jolt runs up his spine when Shoto realizes your hips are moving, grinding down on his slowly softening cock.

“So close,” you slur into his chest. “‘M so close, Sho’. ‘M right there.”

“Keep going, sweetheart,” Shoto breathes, trying not to moan at the jolt of overstimulation on his spent cock.

It’s sensitive, but it’s bearable, especially when it’s rewarded as your fluttering walls clamp down hard, your thighs quaking around his own. Your whine is loud even as it muffles into his shoulder, your nails digging into his chest as ride out your orgasm with little jerks of your hips. Shoto can barely comprehend the feeling swelling up inside him as you babble about how good his cock feels, how good he’s making you feel; amazement, pride, and no short amount of giddiness sits warm in his chest.

Shoto rubs a soothing palm up and down your back, mumbling sweet nothings as you relax into his chest, only to groan softly as your hips raise enough for his cock to slip out with a wet sound. His head pops up at the feel of something brushing between his legs, only to see Touya standing above you both, his hands on your hips.

Goosebumps rise on Shoto’s skin as he feels Touya’s hand brush over the tops of his thighs as his elder brother angles his cock towards your quivering, spent pussy.

You moan weakly, but don’t shy away from his touch.

“She looks so worn out, poor thing,” Touya coos, his voice filled with a sympathy that doesn’t match the wicked gleam in his eyes. “But this slutty pussy should be able to take more than this. Don't worry, doll. You'll get used to it soon."

#touya x reader #shoto x reader #bnha x reader #bnha smut #touya todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #tw.stepcest #yuli writes

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