#IT WAS ONLY AFTER I TAUGHT IT THAT PEOPLE MATTERED THAT IT COULD BEGIN TO BE ABLE TO HELP THEM. ( the machine )

[inssertusernamehere]

I’ve seen Grian’s loyalty talked about a lot, and how he views his ally-ships, and I’d like to give my own view on it.

I feel like the reason for his semi-aloofness can be connected all the way back to Third Life. In Third Life, Grian was Scar’s right hand man. They were very close. They killed for each other, died for each other, lived for each other. Their relationship did start as a debt, but it grew into something more. Even after Grian lost his life and was free from the shackles of their deal, he stayed. They cared for the other like no one else on the server, and where did it get them? One dead, by the other’s hand. So if you look at it from Grian’s perspective, even after he gave his all to Scar, he was still left alone at the top of that mountain. In Grian’s eyes, Scar suffered because of him, and left Grian heartbroken and in tragedy. This would be the start to Grian seeing allies as an inevitable road to misery. His Widow’s curse also doesn’t help this. In every season, each time, he kills or lives past his relationships, and that, plus the desert, taught him that no matter his intentions, he’s the problem. You can also see this in how he talks to and treats his allies. He’ll hold them at arms length, not daring to become too attached, yet he still wants that comfort. He wants to rely on someone, to have that bond. But he’s also terrified of the repercussions later on.

In Last Life he tried his best to hold the Southlands together, even starting the life-trade ritual, but it wasn’t enough. They disbanded, and Grian ended up killing two of the previous members.

In Double Life, Grian was paired with Scar, a bitter reminder of what they were in the desert, as well as what their fate was back then. Grian could see the beginnings of another cactus ring, of another relationship he’ll ruin. So he does what he does best, he pushes Scar away. He becomes secret soulmates with Big B, still searching for that connection even in his abandonment of another. But Grian still cares. He looks after Scar still, staying by his side and caring for him until their elimination.

In Limited Life Grian had the Bad Boys, obviously deeply enjoying their time together and the two other members. But once again it doesn’t last. Grian gave Jimmy the TNT minecart that killed him, and was also there to witness Joel’s death. After their deaths Grian tried to look for connection in the Nosy Neighbors, but it wasn’t the same.

In Secret Life Grian was desperate to find allies, even going far enough the ask the one man that started this whole mess of self destruction. But when Grian finally finds Etho and Cleo, he again tries to be aloof. He even states himself that he’s a wanderer, that he has no ally ties (I forget his exact wording). But he very obviously cares for both Etho and Cleo, again sticking by them until the end and ensuring their safety to the best of his abilities. But again, he outlives them and dies alone.

And finally, we have Wild Life. The Spanners were close, Grian desperately trying to get the other two kills in order to survive. No matter what though, the curse continues. Mumbo and Skizz die because of Grian’s tower, Mumbo exploding and Skizz falling. You can ever further see Grian’s desperation in allies when he is searching for more friends immediately after both of their deaths. Grian isn’t a completely loyal ally, but he wants to be. He wants to put his complete trust in a friend and be able to depend on them. But all his past experiences tell him that doing that will only get him hurt. In all his relationships, the Widow curse persists and leaves him with only regrets and tragedy. Grian can’t escape the curse, so all he can do is try and protect himself the best he can. He does this by keeping people at arms length, waiting for their untimely demise, even possibly dying by Grian himself. He builds walls around himself, even if he so desperately wants to take a sledge hammer to them.

[starlightguh]

The Sharpest Tongue

Word count: 2,822

Summary: What if the stone Sylus won hadn't been the right one to send him and MC home to Linkon? As MC struggles to learn the local language, she finds herself the subject of the other warriors in the clan. Too bad it seems like Sylus has the sharper tongue amongst them all.

Tags: Cunnilingus, Grasslands AU, Jealous!Sylus

A/N: This is a bit shorter than I had planned, but I wanted to write something for the grasslands AU and saw someone mention we needed more jealousy grassland stories, so here you go! 100% transparency, I could not find anything on Talanian language, so I used Mongolian words, I'm not familiar with the language so if there are mistakes, I apologize!! I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Find this fic on Ao3 as well!

The Khan had given Sylus the bright red stone for his victory in the battle against the best warriors in the clan. My worries weren’t for nothing as there wasn’t any trace of meta flux emanating from it. No matter how hard either of us tried, we couldn’t resonate with it.

So we were stuck in the grasslands.

For someone who should have been happy due to our victory, both me and Sylus held somber faces around the celebratory fires and festivities. I could feel his red eyes staring at my downcast face as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“We’ll just keep searching kitten…As long as we’re together we can keep looking for a way to return home.”

I inhaled deeply and nodded silently as I turned to look at him, his expression was really soft and full of apology. I wanted to go home badly. But…Sylus had a point, wallowing won’t do anything. We’ll just make a plan to find a way back to Linkon.

I steeled myself by fixing my slouched posture and closing my eyes to take deep breaths. After a few moments I opened my eyes and smiled at Sylus, “Well I guess now is the time to embrace the nomad lifestyle…Until we find our way back home that is.”

Sylus stands, my eyes lingering on his distracting buff physique as he holds out his hand.

“Let’s not weep and try to make the most of our time together, hm? Shavanika.”

His baritone voice stirs an excitement in my belly as I take his hand and he begins to twirl me to the rhythm of the festive music the villagers are playing by the campfire. I feel the beads in my hair slap my cheeks as I spin around the orange hues of the warm flames near me. For a brief while as me and Sylus danced around the flames, my anxieties had drifted away. I was grateful to have him by my side and ease my worries.

My bare feet feel unsteady as I haphazardly try to follow the rhythm of an unfamiliar tune, but the warm and strong arms of the silver-haired warrior in front of me hold me steady. I smile and laugh at Sylus’ serious expression as we dance and lose ourselves to a night full of joy.

—————————

After the festival, we packed up and moved to travel alongside the rest of the villagers. Me and Sylus agreed we would adapt to our surroundings of the people around us as we tried to find any clues about a way home.

I was not the fastest learner, but I did get a few things down, the women taught me duties I was expected to help with, from herding livestock, sewing, cooking, and laundry, I was slowly earning my place amongst the others. However, I was struggling with learning the language. I could pick up a few words here and there, but I couldn’t really understand or communicate as properly as I would like.

Then there was Sylus, he was a polyglot so picking up the language wasn’t difficult for him. He must have been fluent only after a solid two weeks of study. I was envious, but also grateful since I relied on his help a lot to learn and understand.

The warriors happily accepted Sylus, he easily fit in and would help them with hunts for resources as well as military strategies and ideas. The Khan favored him a lot and Tara told me whispers of them wanting to promote Sylus to a general title.

While we hadn’t been traveling with our clan for more than a month, we easily slipped into our roles quickly. And now it seems we quickly have found ourselves involved in more politics than we would like.

It was like any other day, I was riding my cream-colored stallion through the grassy fields trying to get the flock of sheep on the right path. I called out the different sounds and commands I was taught while keeping a stead-fast pace on horseback.

My hunter's instincts kicked in as I noticed one sheep was away from the herd, and upon further investigation, it was being hunted by a hungry coyote.

“Shit,” I hissed to myself and acted quickly as I grabbed a rope from my satchel. As the coyote pounced, I lassoed it and used my strength to pull him away from the sheep.

I was heaving and sweaty as I just lifted the clueless sheep back to the herd. As I was getting back on my horse, I heard some whistles call out to me. I glanced around and noticed a group of four warriors walking up and cooing at me.

I didn’t really recognize them, I only knew they were of the same clan since their chest guards had the same color ropes that Sylus wore. The men spoke to me in Talanian, but I could only pick out words like ‘strong’ and ‘brave.’

“I uh…am not familiar with the language yet, chlaarai .”

They seemed to just smile as one made a comment to the group in Talanian, they laughed and just waved goodbye toward me as they rode off.

I didn’t think much of this encounter until the next day.

We had set up camps deep in the Northern Grasslands, orange was taking over the skies as the dawn broke. I was hanging clothes I had just washed in the river on a clothesline outside one of the elder's yurts.

Behind me I heard the sharp tongue of Talanian, I glanced and noted those same big warriors from the other day were talking. I had paid them no mind as I did my duties.

Suddenly I heard the sharp thuds of angry footsteps behind me and a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist. I glanced up and saw a very pissed-off Sylus glaring off in the direction of the four other men.

He yelled at them in Talanian and growled when the other men responded in what I could only assume was a taunt. Sylus let go of my waist and marched up to one of the men and grabbed him by his leathers. People started to gather to watch the rowdy commotion.

I turned and saw Tarna and sighed in relief since she could explain what was going on, “Hey, Tarna….What exactly is happening?” I asked her urgently as it sounded like the men were raising their voices.

“Well…It seems the Khan’s second son Gansu said something about your er….” She paused and looked shy when translating what was said, “birthing hips, and how he wanted you as a wife to bear his children.”

I stood frozen as it all clicked into place. I looked over at Sylus who was still arguing with them, a scowl marred on his face.

“Sylus came in and said they shouldn’t speak about you that way that you were his beloved. Gansu told him that it didn’t matter to him unless you two were wedded or you were pregnant.”

“Seriously?!? If he’s the son of a Khan he can marry whoever he wants. Why would he want me?”

Tarna shook her head at me, “That’s why Sylus is arguing, he says that you are with him and will never have anyone else’s children.”

The arrogant Gansu held a smirk as he practically hissed at Sylus, a dark expression glazed over Sylus’ face. I’ve only ever caught glimpses of Sylus angry, but never this murderous.

“What did he say?” I asked Tarna, my voice full of worry. I could feel the icy chill of Sylus’ anger even from a distance.

“Gansu just said ‘well whoever takes it keeps it’ as a threat… I think you should go over and stop Sylus, if he gets in a fight with the Khan’s son they could severely punish him,” Tarna warned me.

I nodded and without a second thought, I ran up behind Sylus and gently placed my hand on his lower back. His tense body seemed to ease up a bit at my touch as I tried my hardest to speak in Talanian.

“ Amarkhan bai….S-Shavanika …” Fight not, beloved . These were the only words I could best make out with my limited knowledge.

Silently he grabbed my hand and glared down Gansu as he turned to walk away with me. I felt his grip on my hand tighten as Gansu and his men still taunted behind us. We began walking off towards our yurt and it wasn’t until we were a safe distance away I had to whimper to Sylus.

“Your grip is too tight it hurts,” I cried.

He seemed to snap out of his trance and he softened his grip and rubbed his large thumb soothingly across my hand, “Sorry sweetie… I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I don’t exactly know what was said, but Tarna translated some of what you guys were saying. I didn’t realize the Khan’s son and his friends saw me herding sheep yesterday.”

“The Talanian language is very harsh, most of the words are very direct. The disgusting words from the Khan’s second son really got under my skin is all… Why didn’t you tell me you ran into him yesterday?”

“I didn’t think it was important… Also, I hardly saw you yesterday,” I sigh, “You came back to our tent pretty late… Are you sure you weren’t up practicing Talanian with the other village girls?” I hiss a bit. While the Khan’s son may be chasing my skirts, I can’t ignore the fact that all the girls of the village have been trying their hardest to catch Sylus’ eye.

Sylus stopped in his tracks and growled he turned to me and looked down with a sharp gaze, “How many times do I need to express to you I’m not interested in the other village girls?”

I match his glare and put my hands on my hips, “And how many times do I have to tell you I can handle myself, the Khan’s son doesn’t scare me. I’ll just refuse him.”

Sylus tsked his lips and leaned down to lift me up on his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down!”

“No. It seems like I need to practice Talanian with the only village girl who matters to me,” he says sharply. He gives my butt a playful smack as I’m hoisted over his shoulder, my face in the direction of his backside.

I smack his butt back and he just chuckles, “You’re not getting out of this one Shavanika, so simmer down kitten.”

When he strutted into our tiny little yurt and set me down, his red eyes shined with a mixture of excitement and mischief. His hand remained on my waist as he spoke in a low and seductive tone.

My back arched at the feeling of his hands trailing down my waist and gathering my skirts up in his large rough palms. He set his other palm in the dip on my hip as he stared at me with almost an appraising look in his eye. “Let’s start with the lesson…What did that man call these?”

His left dominant hand was under my skirt caressing my thigh, I let out a shaky breath as I closed my eyes and tried to remember the foreign words spoken earlier.

“T-Toro? Kha-?” I sputtered out as his palm found its way to one of my bare-asscheeks. He squeezed it and tsked his lips as he brought his face closer to mine and he spoke lowly.

“Torkah Khongo,” the purr in his voice did nothing but further my arousal. I was being engulfed by the dominant energy Sylus was putting out. It didn’t take very much for me to become putty in his strong hands.

His other hand reached under my skirt as well and without further notice, the lengthy skirt that usually met my ankles were now scrunched up at my waist. Underwear wasn’t a common thing within the tribe, so I had been forced to forgo that luxury and be commando under my lengthy traditional clothing. I think for a situation such as a lustful Sylus, it was beneficial to be as naked as possible.

“Do you know what the translation is?” He quirked a brow.

“B-Birthing Hips?”

“Mhmm,” there was a slight growl to his response, “he said that you had the birthing hips to bear him many sons.” Sylus gripped my hips in a tightening grip. “Too bad for him these hips are miniikh.”

Sylus dropped to his knees in a squat as his mouth bit a part of my inner thigh, his hands rubbing the bare skin before him. “Do you know the translation?”

His mouth placed hot and wet kisses in my inner thigh, teasing me by being so close to where I actually wanted his mouth. I gasped out an answer as he was torturing me with kisses, “M-Mine?”

“Good girl, seems like you do know more than I thought,” he whispers breathlessly, “Let me reward you.”

He then licked my dripping slit, I let out a whimper in surprise.

“Tell me, who do these hips belong to?” He asked as he pulled away from licking my heat.

“Y-You.”

He smacked my thigh at my answer, “Ah-Ah-Ah, in Talanian sweetie.”

“ Ta,” I moaned out as he suckled on my sensitive pearl.

With a pop of his lips, he pulled away and smirked, “Hmm that’s a good answer, but I have a better one. Repeat after me: Nökhör .”

The pronunciation of the word feels strange as I try my best to repeat it, “noct-core?”

Sylus just shakes his head and repeats it slower for me, when I finally pronounce it right he rewards me by entering one of his fingers into my dripping center.

“Keep saying it sweetie, practice makes perfect,” he chuckles and his mouth finds my center again as he slowly devours me.

With his finger slowly pumping me and his greedy tongue flickering on my sensitive folds, my voice is nothing but a loud and needy whine of this new word he’s taught me and I haven’t a clue what it means. All I know is Sylus likes it as he happily groans into my dripping cunt.

“Louder. I want the whole tribe to hear you scream it, so everyone knows we belong to each other and no one else,” his lower face is dripping in my essence and his red eyes have a bit of a manic and desperate look as I look down on him.

“Sylus….” I lose my mind as he now has three fingers in me and the mouth of a sinner as he loudly slurps at my folds with his sharp tongue.

Ecstasy and euphoria wash over me as I come on his face with that new and unfamiliar word on my tongue. My knees shake and nearly give out, but Sylus stands and lifts me up so my legs are wrapped around his middle.

I lean my head forward as I pant into his ear, “What’s the translation of that word.”

He laughs as he rubs my back while I come down from my high, “Why, it’s my future title…It means ‘husband.’”

“Sylus! How bold of you to assume!”

He frowned at this and glared at me, “I'm not assuming anything, but unless you want to be the wife of the Khan’s son, then you must be mine…I can’t protect you from the leaders otherwise.”

I blush, “I-It’s just so embarrassing….I never thought about marriage.”

He smirks a bit, “Well I'm glad I can change your mind, at least while we’re here. Linkon has a very different culture from the grasslands, and we can talk about a proper marriage when we return home. Deal?”

“Fine but you’re not knocking me up while I'm here,” I huff at him as he lays me down on our pelts and strips off the rest of his clothes.

“I make no promises, but I’ll do my best. You’re just too tempting, Shavanika.”

“Only for you my Nökhör.”

That night Sylus made me scream so loud that the Khan’s son did nothing but glare daggers as Sylus confidently walked through the village the next day I, on the other hand, was forced to stay in bed due to my wobbly knees. When I finally returned to my duties after a day's rest, the other girls just giggled as they saw me.

Tarna translated a message for me that the elders are happy for whatever blessings me and Sylus marriage may bring, but to keep it to ourselves at night. I was horrified and embarrassed, while Sylus walked around as the proud warrior both in the grasslands and in the bedroom.

The strongest warrior and the sharpest tongue will always come out on top I suppose.

~fin~

Translation guide:

Shavanika - Beloved

Chlaarai - Sorry

Amarkhan bai - Fight not

Torkah Khongo - Birthing Hips

Miniikh - Mine

Ta - You

Nökhör - Husband

[cloudcountry]

just realized i NEVER posted this to tumblr??? HELLO??? if it wasn't for ao3 this shit would have been lost media because i literally cannot find it in my google docs??? HELP???

ANYWAYS!! WELCOME TO WHAT THE TWST BOYS LEFT YOU WITH AFTER YOU BROKE UP

its bittersweet. you guys broke up on good terms. post-formatting auburn here and omfg what was i THINKING this shit HURTED. OW. CRITICAL HIT I NEED A HEALER. FUCK.

Riddle Rosehearts leaves you with an appreciation for learning, a strong sense of awe at the bookshelves lining the walls of NRC’s library. He leaves you with a pen, tucked at the bottom of your backpack that you forget about until a late night study session. You find it and giggle, remembering the time he gave it to you when yours ran out of ink, and you begin to take notes with the red-rose ink.

Trey Clover leaves you with a sense of nurture. You pick up cues from people that you never would have seen before and know exactly how to act, and it isn’t until you find yourself “babying” Ace that you step back and laugh. Of course Trey rubbed off on you, he always was taking care of you with nobody to help out him.

Cater Diamond leaves you with extensive knowledge of camera angles. When you’re taking pictures with your friends or just you, it's like you know exactly which filter would look best with every shot. Sometimes you’ll stumble upon a filter you only ever used on his pics, and you’re filled with a bittersweet happiness. Simple photo editing holds so many memories, and you can only hope he’s making new ones, too.

Deuce Spade leaves you with a motivation to protect yourself. When you started dating him all that time ago, he insisted on giving you some form of self defense lessons just so you could protect yourself. He made you more confident, even if he never knew it. You’ll always be thankful for the way he unknowingly made you stand up straighter, like you were proud to be yourself.

Ace Trappola leaves you with a lighter soul. He’s always been a goofy person, and you know full well that he’s never changed. He made you way more optimistic just by dealing with things the way he did, always being true to his heart no matter who he was speaking to. You always admired that about him, and it made you feel like you could be more like yourself even when he wasn’t there anymore.

Leona Kingscholar leaves you with a piece of his pride. He always told you to keep your head up especially when you’re scared half to death. You find yourself using his advice every time you face a situation you’d rather not be in, and slowly conquer everything that used to freak you out. You finally glow with the pride that you know he would have been so proud of if he was still with you, but you’re starting to think that maybe he’s proud of you anyway.

Ruggie Bucchi leaves you with a determination to constantly fight for better. You need to make the best of your circumstances, being transported to a world where you’re powerless with nothing but the shirt on your back. He’s taught you to be crafty and resourceful, and to never let yourself be taken advantage of. You can’t thank him enough...and really, you can’t anymore, but that’s okay.

Jack Howl leaves a carefully planned school year in his wake. You find yourself planning out your day, little events scribbled into your calendar and schedules created in the margins of your notebook. Jack had always reminded you of things and you wanted to let him know how much you valued his efforts to keep you on track, so you started writing down his schedules too. It isn’t until you flip back through your notebook to find older notes that you see “Track and Field Meet - 5pm” and feel a pang in your heart.

Azul Ashengrotto leaves you with a ton of home-economics knowledge. Long after you two have broken up, you still find yourself checking on your monthly expenses and tweaking your meal plans, and it isn’t until you’re laying in bed one night that you realize you wouldn’t be nearly as efficient as you are now if it wasn’t for your previous sweetheart.

Jade Leech leaves you with a fascination for the world around you. He took things that you didn’t think twice about and twisted them into beautiful sights, and you never quite looked at them the same way. It’s not a bad thing, it’s quite the opposite, actually. Your world has never been more beautiful, even if the boy that opened your eyes isn’t there to see it with you.

Floyd Leech leaves you with a restless need to do something. Sometimes, during your down time, you’ll set down your phone and start pacing around your room, wondering why your legs just can’t seem to sit still. Then something clicks—Floyd used to barge into your dorm and dance with you at random intervals, but he doesn’t do that as much anymore. Laughing to yourself, you slip on a coat and decide to take a walk—anything to get the fidgeting out of your system.

Kalim Al-Asim leaves you with a brighter smile and higher patience. You’d always had to chase after him on whatever misadventure he decided to go on that day, apologizing to Jamil with a wobbly smile on your face once the day was done. Kalim never failed to make things brighter, even your breakup. You two still hang out sometimes, but you aren’t as close as you used to be, even if the memories of your adventures remain.

Jamil Viper leaves you with some of his best recipes. It may seem silly or insignificant to anyone else, but you know exactly how much time he spent cooking and baking for Kalim and his entire dorm on a daily basis. He even found time to bring you and his club snacks occasionally. You still know how to make his favorite curry, and if a recipe calls for dates you scratch them out from the ingredients out of habit.

Vil Schoenheit leaves you feeling beautiful. He never once looked at you wrong, whether you had just woken up or had gotten into another mud fight with Grim or if you were wearing a swimsuit. There was nothing but love in his gaze and a reminder to keep your head up on his tongue, because in his eyes you were precious. Because to Vil, you were unapologetically beautiful (and you still are. You always will be.)

Rook Hunt leaves you with an eye for detail. After picking up on everything you did and telling you about every habit he examined, you became keenly aware of your habits and how to manage them. You’re far more observant when it comes to your own self care, and you know you wouldn’t be as diligent if it wasn’t for the insistence of your ex.

Epel Felmier leaves you with a love for nature. You’re hyper aware of how long it takes apple trees to grow and what you can do to help them along. You whisper to your plants now and sing little songs to them and you water them. Your friends have even started coming to you for pointers, and despite the fact that Epel isn’t your partner anymore, you refer them to him automatically.

Idia Shroud leaves you with an absurd amount of techy knowledge. With all the gadgets Ramshackle has because of him, you’re thankful he took the time to explain how they worked. The gifts he made for you almost make the fact that he had to end things with you because of his...family business and that you’ll likely never see him again easier to swallow.

Malleus Draconia leaves you with a greater love for the night sky. You had a person to share the sight of the stars with for once, someone who loved looking up at them just as much as you did. You can still feel the chill of his hand over yours as he reached for it, holding it like you were the most precious treasure of all. Now, when you look up at the stars, you feel a pain of longing in your chest. You miss him.

Lilia Vanrouge leaves you with knowledge of the worlds you’ll never see. You find yourself drawing parallels between this world, your world, and the mystical places Lilia used to talk about. Even Trein has been impressed by the knowledge you’ve displayed in his essays despite not being from this world, and you can only force a laugh.

Silver leaves you with a safety net, something you can use to calm down whenever. His childhood lullaby. He sang it for you time and time again when you were having trouble sleeping in an unfamiliar place when your anxiety got a bit too much. Whenever you have a nightmare now, you find yourself humming the old Briar Valley tune, in hopes that it will give you some comfort.

Sebek Zigvolt leaves you with a greater appreciation for reading (and a pile of bookmarks tucked in an old leather box he presented when he started “courting” you.) You still find yourself exiting Ramshackle on the weekends, and heading to that very same tree you two used to read under. There’s a part of you that wants to look for him, to check and see if he’s also heading to your tree, but you don’t.

[slasherhaven]

I don’t know if you’ve done this before but what about period sex? 🥺 I feel like the slashers are so used to blood it wouldn’t be upsetting to them. (Preferably with Thomas Hewitt because he’s my current hyper-fixation)

I honestly can't remember if I've written this. I thought I had but I can't find but even if I have, I'll happily write it again! Period sex had become a recent interest of mine to be honest...

Period Sex with The Slashers (NSFW):

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is phased by blood in the slightest, he's been working with it since he was old enough to work after all. However, it's different when it's you that bleeding!

He panics at the slightest sign of you being hurt, always wanting to protect you.

I doubt he has any real knowledge about periods, maybe he knows that some people have them but he definitely doesn't know much more than that.

When you're on your period, he likes to fuss over you and make sure you're alright. Especially after you explained everything about your experiences and if you have bad cramps.

You have to be the one who brings up the idea of having sex when you're on your period, because he definitely won't.

You're bleeding there! He assumes that because you're bleeding it would hurt, which you figure makes sense but you'll explain that you might be more sensitive but it won't be painful.

Thomas just need some reassurances that he's not going to hurt you or anything, and becomes more eager when you mention that orgasms can actually help ease cramps.

The blood doesn't bother him at all, he's not in the slightest bit put off or grossed out, it barely even registers with him once he's reassured that you're not in pain. But he still makes sure to be extra careful with you.

You just seem so...raw, that it could be painful. So, he'll just go slow and be careful.

Since he has absolutely no problem with blood, he will go down on you with as much enthusiasm as any other day. He doesn't mind getting his hands or face dirty.

Michael Myers

Michael has no problem with the sight of blood. In face, it might even lean in the other direction.

The blood doesn't put him off, it actually entices him. Gets his blood pumping like those moments before a hunt.

You might not even have to bring up the subject. He's still plenty open for sex, no matter how heavy your flow.

Still, he's not exactly educated about periods so might assumed your injured. But once he knows you're unharmed, he just shrugs it off as mostly unimportant. Is still going to be interested in sex as he is any other day. More so maybe.

Michael loves to smear the blood around, to have his hands coated in it, smearing bloody handprints over your hips and legs and everywhere else on your body. He has no interest in keeping things clean and tidy, it's a waste of time to even lay a towel down to be honest.

He doesn't take it easy on you either, even if you are feeling more raw and sensitive. In fact, he's only encouraged by your increased squirming and the sounds you make.

Jason Voorhees

Oh sweet Jason.

Sex is already a taboo thing to him, at least in the beginning of your relationship, and so are periods.

You've helped him so much when it comes to having a healthier relationship with sex and you've also taught him plenty about periods, because he wanted to learn, wanted to help you.

Jason always treats you like you're ill when you're on your period, wanting to dote on you and make sure those cramps aren't bothering you too much.

The thought of having sex with you on those days doesn't even occur to him. Not because he thinks it's gross or because he has a phobia of blood, but because he figures it would harm you in some way. I mean, you are bleeding and Jason has only ever associated blood with pain and violence and death. Not exactly sexy.

And when you make a move on him, he's more surprised than anything. You want to do that with him while you're bleeding?

Just very worried and concerned for your wellbeing.

Once you reassure him, he's willing to try it, though. You wouldn't lead him wrong, after all.

He'll lay down the towels and be gentle with you, every touch feather light and tender.

He's not really into the blood, more just unbothered by it. It's there but he doesn't care, it's not a turn on or a turn off.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is a horny bastard and if you think some blood is going to put him off, you clearly don't know him well.

Blood doesn't phase him anyway, so it's really not a problem.

You don't have to reassure him or anything, he's already tugging your underwear down.

He doesn't care about making a mess, about staining sheets or surfaces that you will have to clean later.

Doesn't have many feelings about the blood itself other than enjoying the feeling of it, warm and wet.

Will dip a finger in the blood and draw a little pattern on your stomach, just for the fun of it.

Also won't care about washing up before going to sleep, curling himself around you and drifting off while his thighs are still smeared with your drying blood.

You'll have to fight him into the shower, either before he falls asleep or in the morning. Which, of course, only leads into another round but at least he's a little cleaner now.

Bo Sinclair

Bo loves marking you up, claiming you as his.

The two of you might have even given blood play a try before. Bo's definitely into it and has fantasied about it at least.

He's an asshole when you're on your period, always blames your bad mood on it, and is just a general menace.

He's also a huge tease, especially if he knows you get horny on your period.

He'll have you against the kitchen counter, push a hand under your waistband, bring you to the edge of orgasm before slipping his hand out and sucking the blood from his fingers. Leaving you flustered and unsated.

And when he does fuck you, he can't take his eyes off of where you're connected, of where the blood smears over you both.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent isn't so interested in blood but he's seen more than enough so that it doesn't faze him.

So, he's not put off by you bleeding, he's just more concerned than anything.

If you're uncomfortable or in pain, his mind isn't going to sex. So, you'll probably have to be the one to initiate it.

He's not off put but it, just fusses to make sure you're certain and that it won't hurt you in anyway.

Puts all his focus in making sure you're comfortable.

Despite not being interested in blood in any sexual way, he does get a little curious. It's something new to explore with you and he's intrigued.

He's not very messy with it but finds that he does kind of like the way it stains the inside of your thighs at least.

Cleans you up so tenderly afterwards until there isn't a trace of blood left, just being his sweet self.

Lester Sinclair

Lester is not in anyway phased by dirt or blood or being messy in anyway.

It's not a flattering comparison but he handles roadkill everyday, he's not doing to be bothered by some blood.

The only reason he doesn't really consider having sex during those times is because he assumes you wouldn't want too. Just kinda assumed you don't desire it during that time, especially if you've ever mentioned being in pain with cramps or feeling 'gross' in someway while on your period.

However, he's not opposed to it when you suggest it. He's surprised when you hurry to assure him that it's alright if he doesn't want too, that you understand if he'd not into it while you're on your period.

Lester really doesn't care about any mess you make and you will have to be the person to grab the towels, he just wouldn't even think about it.

Doesn't care how heavy your period is, he has no fears when it comes to touching you or bringing you pleasure.

While Lester really isn't fazed by being dirty, he'll help you both wash up. Afterwards, if you just want to soak in the bath for a while, he'd more than happy to join you.

Bubba Sawyer

Blood is nothing to Bubba, might as well be water to him.

However, he does know that blood usually follows pain, and if you're bleeding, he's going to be concerned that your hurting. And lets be real, he might not even know what a period is.

So, after plenty of explanation and reassurances, we can talk period sex.

Once you've assured him that it's all normal and the pain is more in the cramps than anything else, Bubba really doesn't think much of it. He becomes more concerned about the cramps than the actual blood aspect. The bleeding itself is no big deal to him.

So, when you express that you would like to have sex with him even though you're still on your period, Bubba trusts that you know better than him on whether it's alright for you or not.

For Bubba it's just like the blood isn't there, just an addition to sex that he doesn't really need to worry about because it doesn't mean that he's hurting you.

Billy Lenz

Some blood isn't going to stop him from wanting you, from needing you.

Billy has a complicated relationship with blood. It's always followed negative feelings and experiences but it's also kinda...pretty?

He doesn't want to hurt you or make you bleed but if you're already bleeding and unharmed then...

Truly has no worries about mess, he loves when the two of you end up all sticky from bodily fluids. If that includes blood, that's perfectly fine by him.

He'll grin at you with your blood staining his mouth and cheeks, will smear bloody hands over your body and paint you with it.

He doesn't know why he finds it so enticing, so arousing, but he does. His eyes shine as he paints you both with your blood. And he's able to do all of this without harming you, which is a huge bonus for him.

Like Brahms, he'd happily just go to sleep without washing the drying blood off first. You have to drag him off to the shower and change the sheets because Billy will just sleep in the mess without worry.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

In general, blood is not all that new in your relationship.

Asa has definitely indulged his blood play kink with you, whether it was with your blood or somebody else's. So period sex isn't the craziest thing for him and he's not going to even bat an eye at it.

However, he is going to indulge.

Asa is pretty thrilled about you being more sensitive than usual, ready to find all new ways to torment and tease you.

You're not about to be ruining his sheets though, he's doing to be clean and tidy about it. He's using a mattress protector at the very least, or having you strapped to a table for him to experiment on you.

He has you squirming and pleading until there are tears in your eyes and you feel raw between your legs, even more so than you already did.

Slips his fingers between your lips, having you taste your own blood.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Come on, a little bit of blood isn't going to scare him.

In fact, blood arouses him and he isn't ashamed of that in the slightest.

You can try to initiate or he will, it doesn't really matter. A period isn't going to have Jesse dancing shyly around you.

Blood play is nothing new for the two of you so he turns it unto a bit of a challenge instead.

He'll have you ride him while he's fully dressed, warning you not to make a mess of his clothes.

And if you do get blood on his nice new suit, well...he's just going to have to punish you, isn't he?

Otis Driftwood

Otis is super into blood play and has already participated in it with you if you share his kink. If not, he's at least mentioned it multiple times.

So, this is just blood play without having to tend to wounds afterwards. That suits him just fine.

In Otis' opinion, the heavier your flow, the better.

He paints you both with it.

He loves seeing you covered in blood, the source of that blood is pretty unimportant to him (unless somebody else has hurt you, obviously).

He's not shy about his interest in the blood but by this point, you should know that it's something that turns him on. There is precious little that doesn't turn him on really.

Honestly, let's a little annoyed if there isn't enough blood for his liking but whatever.

By the end, he'd got drying blood on his face, hands, and thighs. Blood clotted in his facial hair and his teeth stained red, the coppery taste on his tongue.

The sheets are definitely ruined and if you don't get rid of them, Otis will keep them stains and all. He doesn't care about some dirty bedsheets after all.

Baby Firefly

For so many reasons, Baby isn't shy about some blood.

If you're on your period, she doesn't see why that should change your sex life unless you don't want to have sex on your period. Which she would respect, she knows how it can make you feel.

But she also knows that orgasms help with cramps and that sometimes a symptom of a period is being horny, and she will use these things against you just to tease you.

Come on, there's no need to deprive yourself just because of a little blood. She isn't fazed! Let her help!

Doodles little patterns all over you with your blood, giggling to herself about them.

Will paint her lips (and yours if you let her) with your blood just for her amusement if nothing else.

See! There can be some perks of a period when you're with Baby!

Yautja (Predator)

You don't have to tell your mate when you're on your period, he can smell it (not in a way that it smells bad, he just has those heightened alien senses).

He panics at the scent of blood first since Yautja don't menstruate so he assumes you're injured in some way.

He's quick and happy to learn though, and then stops being so concerned about it when your period comes along.

Other than the initial panic, your mate doesn't care about blood in the slightest. He's an Yautja, a predator, a hunter. Blood is a daily occurrence for him, it doesn't faze him.

And when he learns that pleasure can ease period cramps, he will practically insist on it for pain management reasons.

Honestly, the fact that you bleed like this monthly and just carry on with your life like nothing is wrong is admirable and worthy of respect in his eyes.

Having sex with you when you're bleeding, well, there's just something so primal about it.

The scent of your blood and your arousal has his own blood pumping and a growl emitting from behind his mandibles.

He loses himself in the sight of your blood, smearing it over your skin, tasting it.

Afterwards, he just holds you, nuzzling at your skin. Both of you still stained with your own blood.

[jasi-jx]

˙✧˖°📷 ⋆｡˚꩜ 𝗙𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 (ft. gen narumi)

𝗴𝗲𝗻 𝗻𝗮𝗿𝘂𝗺𝗶 𝗰𝗿𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂 !

tw: swearing, bad language, people being bad with feeling, kinda fem!reader but boys can also be girlbosses, gen being egotistical and cocky (are we surprised?), mentions of sexual acts, reader is a girlboss,

author’s note: Third crushing post in a row lets gooo. I decided to make it a series. You can find all of them (for kaiju no.8) under #jasi-jx favorite.

_______________________________________________

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ This guy…he has standards. If he is crushing on you, you probably do fit those standards

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Said standards being, strong, can give it back to him. So a general girlboss.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ In fact does not polish his sarcastic and cocky personality for you in the beginning

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ I like to imagine when he first saw you he legit went “Is she single? No? Imma make her my girl”. Bro thought he could have you right then there

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ The whole “I want someone strong” came to kick him in the ass when he realized you weren’t easy

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ That day, he read all of your files, asked about you to literally everybody

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Now you have unlocked, gen narumi, the strongest, trying (in his own way) to woo you

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ There are two sides to this. Him openly flirting with you outside of work, and him acting badass on the battle field (he folds if you praise him after)

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ As for you, you’re like “He is a manchild…but he is hot when he fights…what do I do…”

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Wore his hair slicked back like he does in battle 24/7 when you told him he looks better like that (still love his bangs)

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ He is going around bragging and talking about you to anyone and everyone, as if you are already dating.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Taught you how to use his weapon whether you asked him or not.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ If you went on a mission with him, he was not off your ass. He was like “get behind me!”. Bro was heavy on protecting you no matter how powerful the kaiju is.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ You were like “Huh?!”. He worded his need to protect you in a way that made it seem like he didn’t take you seriously.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ If you ran past him and defeated the kaiju on your own, he definitely fell for you all over again.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ On the topic, he loves watching you fight. The only time he is ever like “Nah, I’ll just watch.” when there is a mission.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Would step in if he felt like you were in danger though.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ One of the rare moments where he leaves his games is when you’re training

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Did legit fantasize training with you and pinning you down, having a whole ass sexual tension moment

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ If that did happen, he thought about it moment for a week

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ If it didn’t and you kicked his ass, he still thought about it for a week. Only this time he swore to himself next time he would turn it around.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ If you game, he somehow convinced you into playing with him.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ In the end, either you folded and asked him out, or he got impatient.

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ Impatient Gen, walked up to you, pulled you in, gave you a half sloppy kiss.

[towriteloveontheirarms]

Guard dog (modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

synopsis: What is supposed to be a fun night at a concert devolves into an even more fun night.

warnings: smut, (public) sex, dry humping, Aemond coming in his pants, bathroom sex, p in v, afab reader

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @hopelesswritergall @urmomsgirlfriend1 @legitalicat

(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

Dividers by me

“Give that here, let me do it.” You take the eyeliner from Aemond´s hand and swing a leg over his lap to straddle him. Deafeningly loud metal sounds through the apartment, forcing your heart to beat along with it. You straddle his lap without a second thought, turning his head until he is almost smothered between your breasts. Not that the implications are any less lost on you, but after years close touch had also become quite normal for. Never was it this bad though.

“I could have done that myself, you know?” Aemond claims. Of course he does.

“I know. It's just prettier that way.” You release your lower lip while teasing, not even realizing you had bitten it in concentration.

“Prettier? Is that so?” He asks with a wide smile spreading his rosy lips.

“It is.” You shrug lightly, but right when you shift to stand back up, Aemond grabs you by the hips. Promptly you get pulled back into his lap and while you try to get some breath back into your lungs, he already begins to drive his fingers into your sides until you are toppled over in his lap. There is less air traveling back into your lungs than there is coming out, taking away all of the strength you need to pull away from him.

“No… stop… please Aemond…” The words are pressed painfully forward from your throat.

“I’ll never stop.” Aemond only warns you.

Of course he doesn't let up. If growing up with Aegon and Daeron taught him anything is not to give up easily. He tickles you no matter how often you weakly push at his arms and try to get away. No matter how often you say you can't breathe. That is until your body grows so limp, that you are everywhere. Your body loosely wraps around Aemond and fills his nostrils with a scent that has him intoxicated immediately.

Suddenly Aemond stops what he is doing entirely. Awkwardly he lets go of you and helps you stand back up. There is a beat of silence between the two of you, before things return back to the way they were, letting the two of you get ready

“So? What do you think?” You exclaim once you are done.

Putting on your boots, you even give Aemond a small twirl to present your entire outfit, making the jewellery jingle and you giggle with it. The answer you get is Aemond laying a finger to his chin in thought as he looks you up and down. Silently he prays to the seven that you don't notice the flush spreading on his pale cheeks.

“Are you sure about that skirt?” He inquires then. “It's kinda short.”

“Yes, I am. I didn't buy it to be ignored after all.” You smooth the admittedly very short leather skirt over. He was right, your outfit left very little to imagination, but fuck what people are going to say.

“Just saying. If there will be guys ogling you I won't be a happy camper.” He defensively raises his hands.

“When are you ever a happy camper?” The question is as light-hearted as can be, but it is met with a serious look.

“I mean it. If someone so much as whistles at you, there will be problems.”

“Awww my own guard dog.” You go to playfully pinch his perfect cheeks only to get your hand swatted away by his own. “I´ll be careful… mom.”

Aemond clicks his tongue, but nevertheless the two of you leave for the concert that has your stomach flutter with butterflies at the thought of how long you had waited for it. All the way until you stand in your place.

As if by second nature, you lean your back against his chest and lean your head back to give him a small, happy smile. Aemond’s thumbs rub gentle circles into your hips and as a sign of thanks, you run your nails over his arms just barely enough to send a tingle over the skin. Everywhere around you people are wrapped up in their own little conversations, giving you a moment that feels private. Despite the mass of humans squeezed into the venue.

The supporting act is nice, but not even it can move you from Aemond's arms. You only get disturbed when his chest rumbles against your back in the small break before the band comes on.

“What are you growling at?” You inquire softly, looking at the stage, while trying to calm Aemond by once more running your nails over his body.

"Nobody." He murmurs, sighing and calming instantly at the affection. If only you knew the effect you had on him. “Are you trying to give me chills?”

“Is it working?” You smirk up at him.

Aemond doesn't need to answer verbally for you to know that something is working. The blood in his body rushes south and presses against your lower back. At the same time his hands on your waist tighten noticeably before flexing and then returning to their relaxed state.

“So, what did you actually growl at?” The way you turn your body around, however, rubs your back perfectly against Aemond's front.

“Just some guy looking at you weird.” Aemond swallows hard around the sentence in concentration.

“See, you are like my guard dog. I knew it.” You clap and laugh up at him.

This time as you lean up to playfully pat Aemond’s cheek, he lets you. He has no choice but to as the touch of your palm to his face makes your bodies rub together in just the right way.

“Don't say things like that.” He bows his head, but the breathy voice gives away how he feels about your words.

“It makes me very happy to have such a good boy though…” The way his excitement grows even harder and twitches against your back makes you bite your lip.

His pupil looks darker than usual and unfocused. “Please don´t tease like this.”

“Is my good boy gonna come in his pants if I don´t?” It´s a rhetorical question.

By now Aemond´s hips had set into a steady rhythm, snapping against your back for every bit of friction he could get.

“Gods… don´t say things like that. I´m serious, don´t you dare…”

“Why I'd never joke about something so… incredibly hot.” The fake pout and cute eyelash flutter is met by a bitten lip, tightly knitted together eyebrows and a glowy forehead.

“You´re not… You´re just saying that to get me flustered.” The breathless accusation is met with a light-hearted shrug and the band beginning to play. Even though the music is background noise in your own little bubble.

“If you keep this up… something’s going to happen.”

“Good.” You slowly trail a finger up his chest until it rests under his chin.

His eye flutters close in response. “You gotta stop. I mean it.”

“It's so much fun though.” Your thumb pulls Aemond’s lower lip from between his teeth and runs over it.

It's a simple action, yet one that has his mind reeling with the thought of how your hand would feel around other parts of his body.

“If you keep touching me like this… If you do…” Aemond stutters and lays his forehead on your shoulder as strength starts to leave him.

“Come for me then. Be my good boy and come in your pants for me.” It is a soft command whispered hotly against his ear.

“It's too public.”

“No one is looking at us.” With the way Aemond rested against you, your teeth graze the shell of his ear as you whisper into it.

It doesn't take much longer for Aemond to come undone. Leaning more against your shoulder and biting into your neck ever so slightly. The sharp teeth against the skin are almost enough to get you lost in him and miss the strange sensation of his cum staining his pants against your back.

“I can't believe you did that.” Aemond looks at you with an incredulous gaze that quickly changes to one of mischief. “I might have to get revenge now.”

Before you can read the plan from his eye though, Aemond pushes through the crowd. Once you reach the amps, your back hits the wall. That alone though isn´t enough to shut you up.

“Yeah, you might want to.” You show him a confident wink, but with Aemond´s own confidence rising so does the fluttering anticipation between your leg.

Aemond can tell you are trying to get a rise out of him with the playfulness and it´s working all too well. He is already rock hard again.

“I'd planned to have you on your bed the first time, but that’s too far away. I want you. Hands braced against the wall and open your legs.”

You do as he commands, glad for the privacy given by the amps.

“I want you too. Need to feel you.” You grunt as Aemond pulls your head back by the hair.

The other hand sneaks below the short skirt to teasingly wander along the already wet slit or rather the damp fabric covering it once.

“Fuck…” You can't hold back the swear as your knees buckle under his touch.

“You want to feel me there?” He breathes against your ear.

“Yeah.” You nod eagerly.

Aemond leads you away from your hiding spot and into the bathroom. The second the sound of the lock sounds through the room, you are able to breathe a little better from the stuffy atmosphere. In the same second you are also caged in between the arms of Aemond Targaryen and a cold, metal door. The air that just entered your lungs, leaves just as fast from the force of it. Aemond's hands trail his fingers over the tears in your tights, teasing the hem of your skirt multiple times, before finally pulling it up. Your own hands come down to his belt loops to pull him closer to your body. You lean up on your tiptoes to steal a kiss, however Aemond leans away for a moment first. Revelling in your sweet, confused whine at his actions with a smirk. Only when he has savoured it enough, Aemond leans down to seal your soft lips with his own. The way in which your bodies move against each other is purely animalistic to the point the air is so thick with your ravenous hunger, that you are sure it would be easier to breathe in the main concert hall.

Growing more heated by the second, your hands wander so desperately over each other's bodies to commit every bit to mind. After a while one of Aemond's hands pushes you back against the door by the neck. Your fast breath intermingles and as your eyes flutter open, they almost roll back at the way his kiss swollen lips shimmer in the flickering light.

Hastily your hands fly up to open the zipper on your leather vest at the same time as Aemond pushes down his pants and boxers just enough to free his cock. While you are still stunned by the sight of his excitement, his hands land on your hips again, ripping your tights at the apex of your thighs. Then he lifts you off the ground and pushes you back holding you up with one hand at the thigh.

Your legs wrap around his middle tightly, letting your head fall back when he pushes your bra out of the way to toy with one of your breasts, pulling and pinching the sensitive peaks between nimble fingers. Through the pleasure you barely feel him align himself with your wet entrance. And just as Aemond buries his hard length inside of you fully, his lips wrap around your other breast to suck at the sensitive bud. Pulling strangled moans from both of your lungs in the process.

“Oh gods… Fuck, you´re tight.” He sucks in a sharp breath as the words fall out.

At his words and sudden entry, your inner walls flutter around his length even further. Having a hard time adjusting to his deep strokes when he starts to thrust into you. The movement of your meeting hips is nothing short of bold, frenzied, determined to bring the other to climax as soon and if given the chance, as often as possible. “Your touch feels heavenly.” You praise the warm hands holding up and caressing your body.

“You have no idea what you do to me by just clinging to me like this.” Aemond praises you right back. Shivers running down your spine from it. The onslaught of kisses and nibbles to your neck that follows as he keeps driving his cock into you. The rising body heat and heavy breathing fogging up the mirror on the wall. On one of the strokes however, your bodies seem to shift ever so slightly, giving Aemond a new angle inside of your dripping walls, black dots beginning to dance in your vision as your nails dig into Aemond's shoulders.

“Do that again-” You gasp. “Shit, just like that, right there.”

“Fuck I love how reactive you are, princess.” His carnal voice pierces through the cotton that filled your brain in the pleasure addled state from his relentless pounding.

Your stomach tightens along with your walls around him, the knot inside it almost reaching its breaking point when Aemond carries you over to the sink, placing you just on its edge to more comfortably reach for your clit. Rubbing tight winded circles with dexterous movements.

“I'm so close… Wanna come with you, please” You huff in-between moans and cries of pleasure.

“I´m right behind you, just hold on a bit longer.” He swallows around the words, as overtaken by the incursion as you are.

You nod eagerly and try to take a deep, trembling breath to hopefully hold off your climax just a bit longer, a low hum escaping your throat as you let it out.

But in the end, there is nothing to be helped. You reach the height of pleasure and as the knot in your stomach snaps so does the climax wash over you. One last whine escapes your lips that easily could have been mistaken for a sob and as your shaking body calms and your eyes relax from rolling into the back of your head, Aemond follows you over the edge, groaning huskily from deep down in his chest. The smooth skin transports the rumble perfectly to the pads of your fingertips. His hand remains on your lower back to stabilize while the two of you recover, yet still your body sways back and forth ever so slightly. By the time you leave the bathroom, a queue had formed in front of it, but the dirty looks are easy to ignore when both of you have only one thing in mind. To get home as fast as possible.

[101suouexpressions]

Umemiya fostering Sakura to be his successor

This is an open secret by now, but in this post, I will dive into the process that Umemiya went through to finally decide on Sakura.

First notice: Pre Shishitouren Arc

In the beginning, Sakura was known as the kid who came to take over the old, disordered, and violent Fuurin, which had definitely given a lot of people the wrong impression of him. However, on his first day, he had proven to have good morals instead of being an arrogant power-seeker.

This had, of course, piqued Umemiya's interest and changed his perception of Sakura.

Shishitouren Arc

However, Umemiya's evaluation of Sakura only commenced when he let the boy participate in the Shishitouren fight. This is like an entrance exam to see if Sakura has what it takes to be a leader.

Clearly, the task wasn't simply "beating the Togame's ass", but it seems like Sakura has to check some certain, hidden boxes. Sakura officially passed the test when he successfully connected to Togame through the fist-fight based on just a few words from Umemiya.

It proved that not only did Sakura have a kind heart, but he could apply newly gained knowledge (this happened again at the bridge, where they had to defend the town from Noroshi, Sakura had learnt to take his environment into account in a fight) very quickly.

The Aftermath of Shishitouren Arc

It seemed that Umemiya had officially made the decision to foster Sakura to become the next leader after that. His attitude had changed.

Moreover, later into the day, instead of hinting vaguely, he explained the concept of a conversation through fists in great details this time.

Doesn't it look like he's teaching it to Sakura? Umemiya only did this because he had officially recognize Sakura as his successor, or at least, his direct mentee.

Throughout Wind Breaker

Umemiya entrusted Sakura with the class leader position, directed him to Kaji for experience, and let him face Endou. Not only did Sakura's credibility increase, but the last point is very interesting because no matter how strong and good at fighting the boy is, Umemiya must have been aware that Sakura is NOT going to win going against a beast like Endou.

Personally, I believe this is a very good parallel to the way Suou taught Nirei how to fight. Umemiya was letting Sakura experience, and from the newest chapters we can tell that Sakura was learning a lot from this challenge.

Why didn't Umemiya choose another person?

Million-dollar question! This was my missing piece, which had been preventing me from writing this post in the first place. Umemiya was in third year, he definitely needed to find a new leader for Boufuurin before he and the four generals graduated. If Sakura didn't arrive at Makochi, then who would be the next leader?

Well folks, with the newest chapter (chapter 146), I can finally give you an answer in the form of a theory.

Umemiya was going to train Sugishita to become the next leader.

I'm making a separate post for this theory, which is coming VERY SOON (I am writing it right after this post). In the mean time, can you guess why? :3

UPDATE: THEORY IS UP!

As a thank you for reading this far, have this Sakura playlist.

[bellarkeselection]

Walter to the Rescue

Gif not mine it belongs to @alphinias

After a ride in the woods late at night you wind up getting lost and to the readers surprise Cole actually answers your call.

Tag list - @cognacdelights

Kicking my horse in the belly to go faster with the wind running through my hair that I left completely loose. This wasn’t the first time I had taken one of the Walter family's horses to clear my head from a day of high school. It all could be a lot especially when everyone in this town knows you have a close family relationship with the Walter kids. Because it only results in half the school thinking you're sleeping with some of them. “Woah boy. Easy now.”

My horse begins making some noise in protest hearing some thunder off in the distance. I knew that horses could get spooked easy but I wasn't too worried about it. Alex had taught me how to keep your cool on them. Looking around at the treeline the leaves have already begun changing colors making it really beautiful. “Ah!” I screamed suddenly when lighting hit the ground in front of me and that caused my horse to whine and throw me off its back.

“Ow! No wait…” I called out to my horse but he was already far off into the treeline. Running a hand through my hair I sighed seeing that the sky was getting darker meaning there was a storm coming. Digging inside my jacket pocket I drew out my phone dialing the house phone getting no answer. “Seriously a house full of that many people and nobody hears the phone!”

I guess I couldn't blame them for not answering. That house is always loud and crazy no matter what time of day. Plus now that Jackie from New York had moved in things got more complicated. Tapping my knees in thought I tried to decide who would answer my call. Alex was busy with Jackie, Parker was probably outside playing with Benny. Will was working tonight selling houses. Jordan, Nathan, Lee, Isaac and Danny didn't drive. So that left me in the hands of the most popular guy in town who was known for hooking up with multiple girls Cole. Lifting my head up to the sky I felt heavy rain coming down where I scrambled to my feet but collapsed when I felt a sharp pain in my left ankle. “Shit!...guess he's my only choice now.”

It wasn't that I hated the guy. I just hated the reputation he had made for himself. The rain came pouring down where I grunted, forcing myself to stand up. I hopped over to the treeline to get some coverage from the storm. The wind was picking up, shaking everything so I dialed his number. “Pick up, pick up.”

“What's going on, Y/n?” His voice came through the phone.

“Don't make fun of me but I'm lost.” I stated.

He chuckled at me. “How did little woodlen girl get lost?”

“Cole, I'm not in the mood for teasing right now.” I spat back.

The former star football player still was laughing on the other end. “I’m sorry I just can’t believe girl who hunts with her father managed to get lost on our property. I mean I never thought I’d see the day from someone like you.”

“Cole, I am currently stuck out in a storm and called you for help so can you take this seriously please!” I raised my voice pulling the hood of my jacket over my head shivering when the wind blew harshly against me.

Finally to my surprise he came to his senses responding back to me. “Alright I’ll come get you.” He hung up the call and I was forced to listen and watch the storm get worse for an hour or so.

Burying my face into my knees my body was shaking from the cold and the fact that my clothes were soaked head to toe. I heard a vehicle engine getting closer in my direction and it pulled to a stop showing me it was Cole’s truck he was usually working on in the barn. The drivers door flung opened and quickly shut where I saw someone running towards me with a jacket in their hands. “Cole?”

“One knight in shining armor, woodland girl.” He declared dropping down on a knee, draping the jacket over my shoulders.

I glared up into his green eyes seeing his blonde hair sticking to his forehead. “Can you please call me by my actual name for once?”

“Maybe someday. Come on let's get out of the cold before we both get frost bite.” He offered me his hands tugging me to stand.

“Argh!” I winced, dropping down on my other knee after my injured ankle.

Cole was quick on his reflectances sweeping me up bridal style into his muscular arms. “Looks like you needed a better horse riding teacher than Alex huh?”

“Let’s not talk about it right now.” I said feeling embarrassed enough as is. He helped me into the passenger seat and we drove home. He carried me upstairs and sat me down on the edge of his bed in his bedroom.

He searched around in the closet grabbing himself a change of clothes. Then he tossed me one of his blue tea shirts and some shorts. “Here I can help you if you need it.”

“Turn around first.” I instructed him, blushing since I haven't even kissed anyone before. He did as told giving me the chance to slip my wet shirt for his and shrugging off my jeans until I thought about getting the shorts on. I pulled them up as much as I could before getting his attention. “Cole, I can’t get them up without standing on my foot.”

He looks over his shoulder coming back to me moving his hands down to the left side telling me. “Lift your foot for me.” I lifted my foot and he shrugged it up then helping me sit back down on the bed so I could do the same to my right leg without his assistance.

“Thanks, Cole.” I whispered where he stands in front of me letting silence fill the room. I avoided his gaze, not sure of what to say until I shut my eyes to ask the question. “So did you have to skip a hookup with Erin to come rescue me?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Why would you care if I did. You have a crush on me or something, woodland girl?”

“Y/n, you know my name so use it.” I corrected him. “And even if I did, you don't have relationships. I wouldn't want to be another girl tricked by The Cole Effect.”

He raised a brow at my words. “Oh yeah. What makes you think you'd just be another girl I hook up with?”

“Like I said everyone at school knows you don't do real boyfriend girlfriend relationships. You do hook ups and my mother saw it before I did but I refuse to let my feelings for you lead me down that path since you can't possibly feel the same way about me as I do you.” I accidentally admitted without realizing it to him.

Cole stared blankly at me. “You don't think I feel the same?”

“If you did, you have a funny way of showing it.” Shrugging my shoulders I lowered my gaze down from his green orbs.

Cole simply replied then closed the gap between us. “Is this enough of an effort for ya.” He cupped my face in his hands, crashing his lips down onto mine.

I gasped in shock and awe that the famous Cole Walter was kissing me. He was kissing me, the girl that wasn’t popular like he was. The girl that was just a friend of the family but still no one special. “Cole…I’ve never….never done anything like this.” I mumbled tugging on his blonde locks deepening the kiss. He moaned gently pushing me down onto the mattress and he climbed over top of me never breaking the heated kiss until we needed air.

“I’m not doing this to just have a hook up with you, Y/n. I’m not good with commitment but I do actually care about you.” He breathed out holding himself up by his hands on either side of me, blonde hair falling in front of his eyes and his eyes were focused on me.

Raising one hand up I tangled my fingers into his hair asking the question that was eating away at me now. “So what does that make us now, Cole Walter?”

“We can take this slow and figure it out as we go along, Y/n Woodland Girl L/n.” He smiled leaning down kissing me gently this time. I giggled wrapping my arms around his neck bringing him closer to me enjoying the kisses we shared.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[adverbally]

I Can Never Go Home Anymore

Written for the @steddie-spooktober day twelve prompt “graveyard” | wc: 974 | rated: T | cw: death of a parent, references to abuse and neglect by a parent | tags: Steddie established relationship, funeral and burial (for Mr. Harrington), Harrington family angst, Steve’s complicated relationship with his mom

———

Steve’s hands are shaking on the steering wheel. Firmly positioned at ten and two, wrapped around the leather with the familiarity that comes from years of driving, and they’re still shaking.

“We can leave,” Eddie reminds him from the passenger seat. “You don’t even have to get out of the car.”

He shakes his head. They already missed the viewing last night and this morning’s mass. He can’t miss the burial, too. “No, I need to stay.” When Steve finally gets out of the car, Eddie follows without a word.

It’s not about paying his respects to his father. They hadn’t spoken in years, not since he found out about Eddie and kicked Steve out. A sick part of Steve, deep in the pit of his stomach, is almost glad that Richard Harrington is dead. He feels lighter without the weight of his father’s distant disapproval, can breathe and be himself without feeling guilty for his failings as a son.

But his mother had been the one to call and give him the news. God knows how she tracked down his number, but she cried to him about how sorry she was. How she regretted not standing up to his father when he disowned Steve, how she should’ve been more present in his life, how she was so lost and lonely now that she was a widow and her only son was halfway across the country.

All of it was about her, like all of his mother’s apologies, but Steve pitied her. She was just now learning the lesson he was taught in high school, that popularity was a hollow cage that trapped you while keeping everyone else out, surrounded you with people who could never reach you in the ways that mattered. All of her society friends, her husband’s business partners’ wives, would be present for the funeral mass, dressed to the nines, but not after. They would send flowers but they wouldn’t dirty their shoes for the trek to Richard Harrington’s grave.

So Steve agreed to come, at least for the burial. His parents’ church wouldn’t have appreciated his presence, but the open air of the graveyard feels safe as he and Eddie walk toward his father’s final resting place. There’s something welcoming about the gloomy setting, the overcast sky seeming to blend into the tombstones and monuments, the ground covered with dead leaves now that fall is shifting into winter.

He stands at the back of the crowd and holds Eddie’s hand without feeling everyone’s eyes or hearing the gossipy whispers about Dick’s boy, the queer. He watches the casket be lowered into the ground and tries not to feel relief. When he has to bury his face in Eddie’s shoulder for a minute as the small congregation sings “Amazing Grace,” he accepts the comfort of his partner’s embrace without shame.

It’s only when the few remaining mourners leave and Steve is face to face with his mother for the first time in nearly a decade that tears begin to prickle behind his eyes.

“Do you want me to wait in the car?” Eddie murmurs as they go to meet her on the other side of the open grave.

“Will you stay?” Steve asks, squeezing Eddie’s hand.

The silent squeeze he gets back is enough of an answer.

He squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath, bracing himself as they come to a stop in front of his mother.

Rosemary Harrington covers her mouth with her hands as she takes in the sight of him. “Oh, Steven.”

“Mom,” Steve greets her with an awkward nod.

“Can I…” Her voice trembles. “Would you mind if I—”

Steve steps forward to embrace her without a second thought. She’s a petite woman, and he towers over her despite her sensible black pumps. A lump forms in his throat when he hears her sniffle, delicate and muffled by the lapel of Steve’s coat.

When they pull away, Eddie offers her a bundle of tissues, which she gratefully accepts. She dabs at her eyes, the makeup there long since worn away, and Steve is struck by how much older she looks. He supposes he looks older, too.

“Mom, this is Eddie. My partner,” he introduces with a wave of his arm. He’s proud that his voice doesn’t wobble, even if part of him will always be terrified to say those words.

“Mrs. Harrington.” Eddie shakes her hand solemnly. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Her mouth twitches into a rueful smile. “Please, call me Rosemary. I don’t expect the mother-in-law treatment. You probably need to be more of a mother in the first place to get that.”

Steve interrupts, “I don’t think we need to get into that right now.” He doesn’t want to fall back into the dynamic of constantly having to reassure her that she wasn’t a terrible mother while also having her ignore the things she could change to improve their relationship. He pinches his nose as his frustration builds.

“Maybe we can take you to lunch so you and Steve can catch up?” Eddie suggests in an attempt to break the tension. Rosemary enthusiastically agrees, of course, and she takes Eddie’s arm as he leads her to the car.

Steve pauses at the edge of his father’s grave. His headstone won’t be ready for another week, at least, so there’s no indication as to who is occupying the nondescript casket down there. It could be anyone. Steve pictures a stranger, a man who could’ve been a good father and a faithful husband, laid to rest with love and genuine grief. He pictures the way his life could’ve been different if his dad had been more like that, the way his mom’s life could’ve been different.

When he whispers, “Bye,” that life is what Steve is saying goodbye to. Not Dick Harrington.

[blitzyn]

prospect

toji fushiguro x m!reader

request: none

a/n -> sighs and explodes i need this man injected in my blood right NOW. nobody will be able to convince me that this man doesn’t have a breeding kink. sometimes i forget im writing for real people on a real platform and it jump scares me when people comment on my work. but in a good way ofc i love seeing people’s thoughts on my stuff. ANYWAYS. REQS.

wc -> 4.7k words of filth LMAO

cw -> anal fingering, anal sex, spit as lube, throat fucking, using “pussy” and “cunt” as a synonym, mild impact play, breeding kink, mirror sex, finger hooking, bondage, begging, brief gun play, when i say “little” i mean that in a condescending sorta way and not bc the reader is described to be petite and tiny, not beta read obv

"You're a tricky one, I'll give you that," is the first thing the man before you said. It'd been quite a while since the first time the two of you met in a dingy bar hidden in the sketchier parts of town. He hadn't been trying to kill you then - he was but a fellow patron eager to ruin his liver. Originally, he had a strange gut feeling about you. Like a pretty thing like you wasn't all it seemed, but he shrugged it off after a well-placed look from you offering to buy a couple more rounds.

So when he's given another job, the first thing he does is laugh. He didn't really mean it at first, but really, the irony was hilarious. The guy he nearly got to fuck was his current target: [Name] [L.Name], a rising Jujutsu Sorcerer. He obviously wasn't as strong as the esteemed Gojo Satoru or Geto Suguru, but he was advancing a little faster than many would've liked.

"Thanks. I tried," you replied, seeming much too relaxed for a man about to be assassinated. You were currently stuck on the floor with your arms tied behind your back and your legs bound together by plain, old, ordinary rope. You were a little embarrassed, truthfully, to have been caught by such a mundane trap like this.

You struggled against your restraints a bit, sighing in defeat when you only served to remind yourself just how stuck you were. "These are pretty secure," you started, giving the man before you a laidback smirk. "You experienced?"

Toji gave you a quizzical look for a moment before breaking out in an amused grin, resting his handgun against his shoulder. He definitely wasn't expecting his target to start flirting with him instead of pleading for his life like he was used to. But he'll entertain you for a while. "You could say that."

You huffed through your nose, your eyes lazily flitting around the room. You were making your way back inside the abandoned building you chose to hide in when you suddenly found yourself tied up. It took you a moment to realize you couldn't move when he appeared in front of you, but even less to recognize him as the man you almost got to sleep with. "I would've loved to have you tie me up back then, but this wasn't really what I was thinking about."

"Your phone's a real cockblock, huh?" He chuckled lightly, in an almost mocking manner from what you managed to detect in his voice. "Can't even begin to imagine how long you've had to go without gettin' laid."

You rolled your eyes like he wasn't only there to kill you and get his money. "Don't get me started. There's always something new I have to kill every fuckin' second. My boss thinks it's great training to go out whenever I can."

Right. Technically, you weren't a fully-fledged Sorcerer. You had more of a vigilante-esque vibe to you. You hadn't attended either Jujutsu High School in Tokyo or Kyoto as well, only taught by your family and experiences. Not that that really mattered anyway. You fought, you got strong, and now someone put a hit on you.

You sighed, shifting your body to a more comfortable position before tilting your head back against the wall. “This is the part where I beg for my life, right?” You questioned rhetorically, with an almost bored expression on your face before your eyes lit up with an idea. “I’m not too good at that, but I am good at begging for something else.”

Toji raised an eyebrow in intrigue, unable to fight off the grin at the obvious implication. He didn’t stop you from shamelessly checking him out, but he cut your ogle session short regardless.

“Yeah? Care to elaborate?” He made his way closer, crouching in front of you to get a better view of your face. He knew what you were asking for. He just wanted to know if you’d follow through with it.

Maybe it was the adrenaline making you bold, knowing that he could easily kill you with the pull of a trigger—or maybe it was just because he was really fucking hot. With a quick, obvious glance to his crotch (you could see the imprint of his dick through his sweatpants), you spoke clearly. “I want you to fuck me.”

He liked how forward you were, how unafraid you were to say what you wanted. He swiped his tongue over his lips and nearly laughed at how your eyes darted downwards to watch it. “You call that beggin’?” He taunted, raising his arm to press the tip of his gun against your chin to tilt your head up. “Do it right.”

A shudder ran through your body at his demand, leaving a trail of heat that settled right into your groin. You felt hyper aware of everything—of the cool metal on your skin, of the faint gunpowder scent emanating from the barrel, of your heartbeat thrumming so hard you briefly wondered if he could hear it.

“Oh, please, Mr. Fushiguro,” you whined, staring up at him through your lashes pleadingly. You tried to squeeze your thighs together as you squirmed, attempting to provide your hardening dick friction. “Please fuck me. I’ve been thinking about this whole time. I need it so much.”

“Well, aren’t you a confident little thing,” he remarked with a thoughtful hum, carefully inspecting your reactions. “But what makes you think I won’t just kill you and get my money?”

“Because you haven’t yet,” you replied with a smug undertone in your voice, like you figured him all out. Although, when he dragged his gun up towards your lips, a brief wave of fear washed down your body, settling deep in your chest.

“Really? That’s all you’re going off of?” He tilted his head, watching you through the dark curtain of hair that fell over his piercing eyes. “That’s cute.” He held his finger over the trigger, teasingly flexing it before relaxing just as fast. He found it funny how your confident facade slipped away the moment you remembered that you weren’t talking to a casual friend—that the Sorcerer Killer himself was staring you down the barrel of his gun. But, apparently, that’s what got you all hot and bothered.

“I didn’t think you’d be this desperate.” His scarred lips curled upwards in a predatory grin as he nudged the tip of his gun against your mouth, prying it open. You fought the urge to squirm when he pushed it further, jaw straining, but you tried your best to comply. “You seemed all mysterious ‘n’ unassuming back at the bar. What happened to that? Got me feelin’ like I got the wrong person with the way you’re actin’.”

You tried to shake your head while a garbled noise left your throat, but he kept you firmly in place as he pushed it as far as he could go. Even as you squinted, it was hard not to practically eyefuck him where you sat. Your watery irises trailed over the length of his arm, tracing the bulging veins that patterned over his forearm, dipping back underneath his skin before reappearing in his thick bicep. His shirt did little to hide his chest, squeezing in just the right places to render any woman jealous.

You couldn’t stop your gaze from wandering down, down towards his legs, zeroing in on the dick print he so obviously flaunted like a trophy. Your mouth watered, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. You slid your tongue over the rough metal, imagining that it was his cock stretching your eager throat wide open; imagining the salty taste of his precum, of the scent of his musk, of—

“My eyes’re up here, pretty boy,” he interrupted, pressing the gun up against your palate to snap you out of your stupor and avert your gaze. “If you’re gonna deny bein’ a slut, at least act like it.”

He pulled it out of your drooling mouth, wiping the string of saliva off on your cheek before setting it on the floor with a dull thud. Your face was messy, chest heaving up and down as you panted, expectantly waiting for him to continue like a lost puppy.

“You’re so damn easy,” he commented teasingly, reaching down to palm his cock through his pants. It throbbed under his touch, leaking precum and straining against the fabric. “If I’da known all it took for you to get all nice ‘n’ compliant f’me was a dick down your throat, I’d have my money by now.” There was a hint of honesty to his voice that you couldn’t even find in yourself to protest.

“Please…” you breathlessly whined, trying to writhe out of your binds, but it was tied too tightly around your body to free yourself. “I want it. Stop messing with me.”

“I know.” He reached down to shift you onto your knees, steadying you with a firm hand on the back of your neck. You watched him slide his free hand under his pants to pull his thick cock out, eyes fixated on the leaking tip. He wrapped it around the shaft and leisurely jerked himself off, the wet sounds of his precum sliding along the shaft mixing in with your labored breaths and his quiet groans.

Finally, after what felt like decades, he shuffled forward just enough to press himself against your lips, finding little need to nudge his way inside when you so eagerly parted them for him. You let out a pleased noise at the taste of his precum, beginning to squint and fight the urge to gag when he refused to stop until your nose was buried in his pubes. He held you there for a moment, enjoying the sight of your throat bulging to accommodate his cock.

“You’re takin’ me in so easily,” he purred, sighing in satisfaction at the feeling of your tongue tracing over a prominent vein, making him twitch in your mouth. “Is this what you do? Use your body to live a little longer? 'Cause I gotta say, whatever you're doin' is really payin' off."

You visibly preened at his praise, feeling your dick strain against the fabric of your pants. He let you move at your own pace, watching you hollow your cheeks and slide and bob your head up and down. He was thick and long and made your jaw ache in the best way, utterly infatuated with his scent, with his taste, with the way he let you go at your own pace—but you knew better. You knew that he could easily take that control away from you and fuck your face.

You kind of wished he did, honestly.

With a bit of effort, you pulled away from his cock, breathing heavily. Your voice was shaky but it was firm, determined to get what you wanted. “Fuck my throat,” you demanded, staring up at him through your lashes. He gave you an intrigued smile, clearly pleased with your eagerness to be used like a toy.

“You sure? ‘Cause I’m not stoppin’ til I cum,” he warned. He hardly gave you enough time to reply before he held the base of his cock, gently tapping the tip against your slick lips to get you to open up wide again, obviously unconcerned with your response. “But if you really insist, then who am I to say no to a pretty thing like you?”

He adjusted his stance, towering over you with both his hands atop your head. He allowed you to take a deep breath before pulling you to him just as he shoved his cock back down your throat. You were still unused to him, nearly choking at the sudden movement, feeling tears pool along your lashes. You could’ve sworn his musk was an actual aphrodisiac. It was all you could smell, filling up your nostrils to render your mind a pathetically fuzzy mess.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he drawled out, staring you down with enough heat in his eyes to practically glue you to the floor. You weren’t even sure if you’d get up and leave if he gave you the chance to. Probably not, frankly. Not with the way his strong hands so easily kept you in place, nor with how he strained your jaw—infatuated with every inch and vein and his salty precum. “Take it all, baby.”

He chuckled to himself, not bothering to hide the condescension in his voice. “But I didn’t need to tell you that, huh? Is this muscle memory takin’ over?” Despite his words, his brows were furrowed, focused on thrusting his hips, stoking the rising fire in his abdomen. His rhythmic groans were music to your ears, mixing in with your wet gags and the faint sound of his balls slapping your chin.

“Fuck,” he panted, taking one hand off to wipe your hair off of your forehead and get a look at your watery, unfocused eyes. It sent a heat down his spine that made his cock jolt at the sight of your blissed out face. “You’re so damn tight… gonna make me cum.”

“Is that what you want?” He grunted, digging his fingertips into your skin. “Y’think it’s what you deserve?” For a moment, you were worried he was going to stop. But he didn’t really, instead he kept you still, holding you at a distance to make sure you didn’t accidentally pass out. “I wanna hear you beg for it.”

You blinked your tears away and looked up at him, squinting, confused when he hadn’t let you go yet. It took you a second to piece together what he wanted of you, and felt the burn of embarrassment trickle down your spine and settle into your chest when you did. He wanted you to beg with his cock in your mouth. You were quiet, unsure how to respond without choking and coughing into next week.

“C’mon,” he persisted, his scarred lips lifting in a grin. “I know a little slut like you can do it.”

With a deep breath, you attempted to get your words out through muffled sounds that very vaguely sounded like sentences. It was humiliating—letting him use you to entertain himself like this, but it was an exhilarating feeling that made your cock twitch and throb, aching to be touched.

“Sorry, what was that?” He questioned mockingly, expression laced with faux concern. “Do you mind repeating that?”

You paused, staring up at him pleadingly, but when that didn’t seem to work, you tried again. Drool seeped out the corners of your lips, trailing down your chin. It was hard to breathe and form coherent thoughts. Your cock throbbed and ached to be touched, finding your pants to be uncomfortably suffocating.

“Was that so hard?” He questioned rhetorically as he tugged your face close again, savoring the feeling of your throat squeezing around his dick before beginning to fuck it. He groaned when he felt you run your tongue over the veins, the vibrations of your voice sending heat through his body that he eagerly chased.

He swore under his breath, panting, focused on the tightening coil in his abdomen. “Shit—I’m about to—fuck—cum.”

You moaned when you felt him still, pressing your face into his pelvis to make sure every drop of his cum went down your throat. It was difficult to swallow, letting your eyes flutter shut until he was finished. Your vision was a bit blurry when he finally decided to pull away, leaving you gasping and panting.

“I want—I need you to fuck me,” you slurred, desire flashing brightly in your eyes. Your voice was raw and hoarse and raspy, but there was no hiding your desperation. “Please. I need it so bad it fucking hurts. Please, Fushiguro.”

“I just got done cumming down your throat and you’re already askin’ for more?” He chuckled condescendingly, reaching out to swipe the pad of his thumb along your chin to gather the mix of saliva cum. He brought it to your lips, watching you wrap them around his finger and suck the fluids off his skin. “You needy whore. You’re lucky I’m not in any rush right now.”

With a swift hand, he untied the rope holding your legs together to lead you to a different spot, confident that you wouldn’t make a break for it. Not that you could nor wanted to, anyways.

The mirror before you was dusty and cracked, but it still served its purpose well. He kicked your legs apart and brought you back down to your knees, lowering himself behind you with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You nearly came on the spot when he squeezed your aching cock, hips jerking needily, but he let go in the blink of an eye to unzip your pants and bring them down far enough to expose your ass. He brought two fingers to your lips and dipped them inside your mouth with his other hand, coating them with your saliva rather haphazardly.

He swiftly brought them back down, running them over your balls and perineum teasingly, grinning at your sharp intake of breath. He slid the pads of them over your hole, just barely pushing them through to feel the resistance give way before pulling them back out.

“I swear to god, I’ll—“ you tried to threaten, only to be cut off by a whorish moan that Toji managed to tear from your lips when he shoved his fingers inside you. They pressed against your prostate, firm and unrelenting, rubbing it just the slightest bit to keep you reeling. The sudden stretch fucking burned as you clamped down on him like a vice, wincing and groaning.

“You’ll what?” He urged, eyes fixated on your face, watching every single muscle twitch, noticing the way your cock spurt a fresh stream of precum down the throbbing shaft. “C’mon, don’t get all shy on me now. What were you saying?”

He thrust his fingers in and out slowly, emphasizing the wet squelching sounds of your asshole. You could feel his breaths brushing against your heated skin, sending shivers up and down your spine that ended in your fingertips. Your knees ached and your arms were growing numb from being tied back for so long but you figured you could ignore it for a little while longer if it meant you’d get what you wanted. His dick, namely.

“I’ll—agh, fuck—I’ll…” you trailed off, hardly able to form a coherent sentence with the way he massaged your prostate so perfectly. “Just… just shut up,” you muttered finally, breathless and unfocused as you stared at the spot you connected from the reflection in the old mirror. A subtle feeling of embarrassment settled in your heaving chest when you heard the raspy sound of his chuckle.

“Is that it?” He taunted, locking eyes with you. His free hand slid upwards, teasing your nipples through your shirt to watch you squirm. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight. I’m startin’ to question whether or not you’re really some hotshot Sorcerer.”

It was hard to refute him when you looked the way you did—all messy and disheveled and desperate, hard for the man supposed to kill you. You were completely unlike yourself hardly half an hour ago, but you barely gave a shit. How could you when the hottest man you’ve ever seen was behind you, fingerfucking your eager hole? Chances like these don’t come often to you, that’s for sure.

You shivered and moaned, leaning back against his chest. Your hips practically moved on their own accord, thighs flexing to keep yourself upright as you tried to fuck yourself on his thick digits. Toji could see the way your eyes unfocused and glossed over with understimulated tears, frustrated and horribly pent-up.

He gave your prostate a quick jab, firm enough to intensify the heated coil in your belly, but too fast to savor. He wasn’t planning on giving in to you so easily as he avoided your sensitive spot, instead moving his fingers in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

“God—stop doing that,” you pleaded. You felt like an open book, unable to stop yourself from furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance or conceal the painstakingly obvious glint of hunger in your pupil-blown irises.

“Quit whinin’ and maybe I’ll consider it,” he murmured gruffly, enraptured by the way you writhed and squirmed and looked just downright pathetic. You both knew he wouldn’t, not when all the others he’s fucked couldn’t hold a candle to your pliant little body. You knew why he was there in the first place, but still, you remained there on your knees even when he untied them.

You nearly let out a sob when he curled his fingers again, offering you the barest of touches to your prostate that sent liquid fire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, please,” you begged, yet again. You didn’t know much of this you could take or how long it’d be until he caved. God, was it so much to ask for a man to fuck you stupid?!

“I want your cock inside me so bad, fucking me fast ‘n’ hard ‘n’ deep,” you slurred, hardly able to maintain even the barest shred of dignity. You looked into his deep, green eyes through the mirror’s reflection, hoping he’d relent.

“Yeah? Y’want me in this slutty pussy?” He purred, sliding his slick fingers out of your twitching hole to give it a sharp slap. You jolted just as a spurt of precum slid down your hard cock, leaking onto your clothed, heaving abdomen. He chuckled breathlessly as he leisurely rubbed your puffy rim with the pad of a finger. “You should’ve just said so.”

He wiped his fingers off on the back of your shirt, offering you an oblivious shrug when you glared at him through the mirror. Your knees ached when he had you lean forward a little, placing your more of your weight on the poor joints as he reached down to quickly jerk himself off before tapping the tip of his dick on your asshole one, two, three quick times.

It felt like he was splitting you apart when he finally decided to push through after spitting on your hole, groaning at the way you squeezed around him tighter than a damn virgin. It hurt like a bitch. Of course it did—you made him rush and he was using less than ideal lube, but, God, you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t feel so fucking good.

You watched him lean back a little and hold you by the ropes binding your arms together, rolling his hips experimentally, only to grind his cockhead into your prostate so deliciously you saw stars. A searing heat enveloped your body, blinding you with white that took you far too long to come down from. Opening your eyes (you didn’t even realize you closed them), you instantly spotted your twitching cock drooling cum onto the floor. Fuck. He didn’t even start and you came.

“That was so damn fast.” He couldn’t be bothered to stop the hint of a laugh from leaving his throat. With his free hand, he reached down and gave your throbbing dick a squeeze, stroking it with a tight grip to milk out the rest of your cum.

You shuddered and trembled, biting your lip to stifle your moans. He let go to stuff two of his slick fingers in your mouth, careless with how deep he forced them in. Not that you really minded as you swirled your tongue around his skin, readily cleaning it off. You locked eyes, keeping your expression firm in a weak attempt to regain even a sliver of composure when he suddenly moved, giving you a quick, harsh thrust that nearly knocked the air out of your lungs.

He shifted his fingers, curling them as they pulled on your cheek, tugging at the flesh until he forces your mouth wide open. You couldn’t stop your tongue from lolling out, jaw slack as you drooled and whined and cried every time he rammed his thick cock into your eager fuckhole. He was relentless—pounding into you fast and hard and deep, just like you begged for so prettily.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, digging his fingertips into the flesh of your hip hard enough to leave bruises, arms flexing to yank you back as soon as he pulled out. “Your pussy’s so damn tight,” he panted, brows furrowed in focus, relishing in the sound of his hips slapping your ass and your whorish moans. “M’gonna make sure your messy little cunt remembers my cock by the time I’m finished with you.”

“Uh-huh, mhm,” you nodded, hands itching to grab onto his biceps, his back, something to ground yourself while he churned your insides to mush. It was nigh impossible to think or breathe or speak, but it felt so fucking good.

“Awh, look at yourself,” he cooed, his voice slightly jumpy as he let go of your mouth to roughly pat your cheek, forcing you out of your stupor to make you stare at your reflection. “Are you out of it already? Should I stop?” He questioned, his raspy voice laced with faux concern.

“No! N-No,” you stammered, finding it difficult to comprehend what he was saying until moments later, alerted by the word “stop”. “Don’t stop! Ohh, oh god, please don’t stop!”

You’re so, so sensitive and so full, and you can feel him losing his rhythm. His cock is heavy in your stomach and you swear through your addled brain it’s weighing you down as a trail of precum connects your heated bodies together, frothing between your thighs and his balls.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunted, gritting his teeth. He could feel the burning coil in his abdomen intensify with each passing second, and suddenly he’s speeding up, pistoning into you with loud and sloppy thrusts. His green eyes are locked on your swollen and puffy hole sucking him in with a vice grip, watching his cock slide in and out, in and out, over and over again until you’re cumming hard, shaking and convulsing.

“That’s it,” he growls, the sound low and deep. It went straight into your stomach, sparks lighting up under your skin as your hips jerk, unsure whether you want to endure the building overstimulation or move away. “M’gonna cum so deep inside your pretty little pussy I’ll knock you up,” he murmured in your ear, dragging a canine down your neck to clamp his teeth down on the flesh. “Y’want that? To be my breeding bitch?”

You sobbed, unable to answer, but he didn’t need one. Not when your body spoke for you.

He fucked the air out of your lungs one, two, three more times, feeling his balls tighten until he finally came, spilling his cum so deep inside you, you were sure it’d stay there for weeks. You moaned, savoring the warmth that spread through your body with each spurt of his cum that coated your velvety insides, trying to catch your breath before you had to move.

Toji sighed in satisfaction, pulling out after a few moments. He watched your fucked-out hole clench around nothing as it leaked with his seed, spreading one of your asscheeks to get a better view before giving it a final pat.

You didn’t realize he cut the ropes holding your arms behind your back until you nearly fell face-first onto the floor, catching yourself with your numb hands.

“Ow… fuck,” you cursed at the sharp stinging sensation that ran up your arms, shaking them uselessly in an attempt to restore the blood flow faster.

“You were better than I thought you’d be,” he hummed, getting up to fix his clothes. He grabbed his handgun from off the ground, holding it against his shoulder as he stared you down. “But you have three days. Make ‘em count.”

You weren’t oblivious to know that he was giving you a three-day recovery period before he began hunting you again. Even then, you couldn’t stop the shiver of excitement from running through your spine at the prospect of seeing him again.

You grinned, breathless and shaky but confident nonetheless. It was unlikely he’d fuck you once he found you, but a man could dream. "I will."

cross-posted on ao3

[shibaraki]

STEADY BEGINNINGS ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship (eventual friends to lovers), touch starved shouto, physical affection (hand holding + long hugs), good god the yearning, obliviousness, jealousy, fluff + angst, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 3.8K

series masterlist: 2/5

Shouto was born to be a hero.

It is a sentiment shared by reporters and fans alike. Todoroki Shouto, the pride of Endeavor, the saving grace of his family name. True, his development had been entirely up to chance—no matter the intent or cruel desperation behind his father’s actions, he had to rely on the probability that the next offspring would win the genetic lottery—but low and behold, he did, and to many people that alone was a sign of destiny at work.

Ultimately, he chose to continue the path of being a hero himself, but no higher being put him there. His father did. At the time of his birth Shouto had not been a son, not even a baby. He was a project. A small, shapeless, squirmy thing. Malleable, like any young mind. It’s a miracle he retained any will and individuality.

Sometimes when alone with his thoughts, Shouto would hypothesise on the whys and the hows. The conclusion he always comes to is this: any sort of reality in which Shouto succumbs to his father’s ideals and manipulation would have to be a world in which his mother does not exist.

While his existence was planned, and wanted, he was to be a hero and as such, wasn’t cut from love—that came after. He loved his mother. So much so that when she hurt, he hurt. When she cried, he cried. She taught him what it meant to be gentle, to have hope, to aspire to be his own person. Years spent amongst the country's finest heroes and Shouto still regarded his mother as the bravest woman he knew, strong because she refused to be hardened by her circumstances; soft so that she can’t be broken again.

You are like his mother in that regard. Those same echoes of reassurance that softness isn’t weakness, and it isn’t earned. You’ve been touching him more as of late, as if determined to prove it. Static between brushed fingertips, words expressed by simply pressing your knees together, the weight of your hand on his bicep to garner his attention. The build up is subtle and cumulative and yet each instance strikes him with the magnitude of a thermodynamic explosion.

Nobody bats an eyelid to this shift in physicality, which makes it all the more difficult to determine whether he is reading into things or not. It could be that he’s noticing those small instances only because it’s you, and you are all he can think about lately.

You’ve given him permission to reciprocate. He merely has to ask for more if he wants it. What Shouto hadn’t accounted for is the unbearability of being vulnerable enough to ask. An innocent “can you hug me?” becomes so much more daunting to voice with all that longing crowded up behind it. He can’t help worrying you’ll see right through to the bottom of his desires.

A hand comes into view. Bakugo’s ash-smudged finger and thumb pinch and snap together in front of his face. “Come back to Earth, dumbass. Your thousand yard stare is scarin’ my new assistant”.

Shouto blinks out of his stupor and the blurred vignette surrounding his vision recedes. He glances at the skittish man sitting outside Bakugo’s office currently sending worried glances over his shoulder. “I think he’s more scared that you’re back,” Shouto intones dryly. “Isn’t he the fourth one this year?”

“Not my fault they’re all wimps,” Bakugo huffs. A slap reverberates around the office as he throws down a manila folder onto his desk and drops heavily into his chair. He regards Shouto with suspicion overtop his computer monitor. “Whatever you were just thinkin’ about—stop”.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about”.

“I know you always manage to make Olympic level leaps in logic,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and tears open the folder. He slides out what Shouto assumes is a debrief and flips it between his fingers. Shouto keeps quiet. He reclines into the couch cushions and returns to reading the incident report on his lap, counting down from ten in the privacy of his mind. Anytime now.

Three, two, one.

“So what is it?” Bakugo asks, trying too hard to sound flippant but landing squarely on irritation. “Spit it out before you give yourself an aneurysm”.

Shouto opens his mouth and closes it again. A wave of hot embarrassment washes over him. He knows Bakugo will do him the kindness of being blunt and honest but it doesn’t make it any less humiliating to admit.

In their younger years Shouto saw something of a kindred spirit in Bakugo. He too did not like touch and aggressively voiced his distaste for it whenever he got the chance—which was often, because divine intervention sought fit to give him the most tactile, handsy friend group possible.

As they got older though, Shouto began to realise that the protests and threats were hollow. Despite being vehemently against affection, Bakugo would allow it anyway, and sometimes even seek it out. The aggression was bravado. Bakugo liked having his friends draped around his shoulders. He liked when Mina kissed his cheek, or Kaminari played with his hair, or Kirishima gathered him into a too-tight hug, or Sero tangled their ankles together on the couch.

Only, for him to comfortably accept it, Bakugo needed to act as though he were doing them a favour by allowing them into his space. And Bakugo’s friends played along without complaint.

From what he’s observed you are also an affectionate person. You are liberal with your warmth and adapt seamlessly to the boundaries of those around you. But you were also visibly uncomfortable whenever people took that affinity for intimacy as an open invitation, and recoiled if they encroached on your own.

Shouto has imagined reaching out only for your body to flinch away from him more times than he can count. It’s a battle staged in his head, ingrown fears. The possibility alone was enough to keep him from reciprocating, set in a state of fawn-like inertia.

“There’s somebody I want to get closer to. A friend,” he begins. Bakugo makes an inquisitive noise, props his cheek against his fist and narrows his eyes as he listens. Shouto retells the story in part, deciding to omit your name, and by the tail-end of it Bakugo’s forehead is deeply creased in dissatisfaction.

“You make all your own problems, Halfie. Y’know that?” he mutters, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and sinking back into his chair. “Fine, you don’t want to make this person uncomfortable, or whatever. If you need a hug so damn badly, why not ask Deku? Not like he’d say no”.

Knowing Bakugo would make his dilemma sound ridiculous is one thing, actually hearing it is another. “How do you know it isn’t about Midoriya,” Shouto returns petulantly.

“It ain’t Izuku or anyone else from your nerd squad,” Bakugo says, dropping his hand to drum on the desk. “I would’ve heard about it”.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t touch people. And that’s fuckin’ fine, yeah? But if you had, I know for a fact any one of them would’ve burst into tears and told everyone in a five mile radius”.

“Oh,” it leaves him a little off-kilter to hear. Shouto leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, setting the report on the dark wood coffee table. The corner of the page is curled, and the spine is creased, and the ink annotation has smudged under his thumb. He details these things as he deliberates, the excuses cloying in his throat and thick like he might cry too.

Bakugo was right—if he craved close contact so badly, why couldn’t he go to Midoriya? He knows he would likely be met with enthusiasm.

“You don't have to tell me who. I don’t care. But you’re overthinking it,” Bakugo grunts at his lack of response, in a way that very much suggests that he cares. “Go ask. If they say ‘no’ it’s tough shit, but the world isn’t gonna end. From what you’ve told me they wouldn’t say ‘no’ anyway. Dumbass”.

Shouto nods and gives up the pretense of reading the paperwork. He feels coltish as he stands and brushes down his front, straightening the creases.

“You’re right”.

“I know”.

“Thank you, Bakugo,” he says. A small smile unfurls across his anxiety-bitten mouth. “You’re a good friend”.

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles. It’s a testament to his concern that he hadn’t cursed Shouto there and then. “Now get out of my office. What are you doing here in the first place? You got your own!”

“Yours gets all the sunlight. And it’s always quiet because nobody comes in here,” Shouto ignores the baleful slit of an eye Bakugo turns on him. “I’m going to take my lunch now”.

“Do what you want,” Bakugo dismisses haughtily, and Shouto smiles while thinking, not for the first time, that he’s very lucky to have friends like these.

The fidgety assistant bows as he exits and turns into the sun-drenched hallway. Warmth drapes around Shouto’s shoulders, lingering at his nape while he descends the dark stairwell where the light doesn’t reach. His boots thud against the linoleum, and he counts each footfall to keep his face neutral as his legs carry him toward your department.

Somewhere between one and one hundred and thirteen, a fraction of Shouto’s courage starts to dwindle. He grits his teeth. A hundred steps can’t be enough to dissuade him after decades of denying himself any kind of indulgence.

The further he goes into the support wing the more elaborate the layout becomes. You’re in research and development, assigned a workshop close to the quirk analysts. Heads turn as Shouto rolls through. Heroes didn’t often make personal visits to this area. If he thinks hard enough he could count a grand number of two past visits and neither of them were for you.

His stride falters when he catches sight of your nameplate. It is fixed to the wall outside your door, polished and gleaming proudly. Shouto traces the characters of your name engraved into steel before raising his hand to knock.

Your voice rings out from inside, “Come in!”

A pitched beeping sound comes from overhead. The workshop doors begin to open in a theatrical fashion, receding like curtains to reveal your space. The floor is mapped out with tape. Clear boundaries drawn between the work benches, the fume cupboards, the vault and your personal office, in an attempt at organised chaos. He might have been more interested in poking around for the first time if he had not felt on the edge of intrusion.

You’re tucked behind your curved desk surrounded by numerous monitors that dwarf your frame. Shouto furtively takes in your cute, rumpled appearance. The upper half of your coveralls have been undone to reveal an undervest, sleeves tied tight around and accentuating your waist.

“Take a seat, I’ll be with you in…” the dull tapping of practiced keystrokes comes to a stop as you notice him in the doorway. The professional veneer disappears. “Shouto?” you say, mostly to yourself. Your gaze slides beyond his shoulder, looking for whoever might be accompanying him. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a worried twist in your mouth that he wants to smudge away. A look in your eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugged at his being. Shouto rolls his shoulders, shaking off the tension, and moving deeper into your office. The doors close automatically behind him. “I’m okay,” he assures, taking the seat across from you.

Your expression gentles, and he likes how your gaze follows him. “I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me,” he continues. “But if you’re working I can head back”.

“Lunch?” you repeated. Your eyes darted to the corner of the monitor closest to you and promptly widened. “Oh, shit. When did that happen?”

An upswing of fondness catches him like a blow to the chest. His mouth quirks into a smirk. “How long have you been here?”

“Too long. I got lumped with a new project a few days ago and it’s almost done,” the monitors shut off one by one as you sheepishly press each button. Then you gave him a soft, apologetic look, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Must’ve missed me if you came all the way down here”.

Dread shriked through him. The low whirring from the equipment scattered around your workspace is suddenly inordinately loud. Was he that obvious?

You, however, fail to notice Shouto’s anxiety and grab him around the wrist as you pivot the desk. “C’mon. Let’s go before the good stuff is gone,” you tell him.

Shouto had absolutely no clue what the ‘good stuff’ entailed—maybe he should’ve bothered to ask. Atleast it would take his mind off your hand. It’s wrapped around his sleeve, right where the fabric ends, loose enough for him to unshackle from if he wants. When he doesn’t protest the contact you stroke your thumb in an arc over the heel of his hand and squeeze.

Shouto falls into step, too caught up to realise you’ve taken him to the cafeteria. He expects you’ll drop his wrist in the presence of your colleagues, yet you adjust your grip and glance back at him with an encouraging tilt of your head.

“I’m starving. I think I’ll get a rice bowl. Smells pretty good today, don’t you think?”

Shouto hummed his agreement. He felt out of his depth, and he didn’t trust his voice. The spark of giddiness was doing embarrassing things to his throat. The line is mercifully short and before long he has a warm bowl of food held against his front.

“Did you want to sit in here? I can take us to one of the senior staff lounges instead if you want,” you cast a nervous look across the sparse crowd. “I mean, support engineers aren’t really gossiping types but…”

A petty part of him hoped the whispers would escalate. To have your name linked with his, to be known as a person that you cared about—he found that deeply satisfying, for reasons he couldn’t yet put his finger on.

Then again, being alone with you far eclipsed the appeal of flaunting your friendship. “The senior staff lounge sounds best,” he answers after a minute of feigned consideration. You nod, regretfully having dropped his hand, and motion for him to follow once more.

The lounge is a modest room with a kitchenette, a breakfast nook and a few bean bag chairs. It smells faintly like peeled oranges. There are post it notes and blueprints haphazardly stuck to the pinboard, covering an out of date calendar filled out in illegible scrawl. This is no shop awning. There is no rainfall to lend to the ambiance. But you are together in an enclosed space, and that is enough to make his heart beat in anticipation.

You scoot into the breakfast nook. He sits on the same side of the table and tries to subtly spread his knees enough to nudge your thigh. You side-glance in surprise but choose not to mention it. Instead you smile through your first mouthful and ask, “How've things been since I last saw you?”

Achy, like he’s used an atrophied muscle. Lonely, and frustrating beyond words. But he doesn’t say any of that. He digs crescents into his thigh through his pant leg and says, “Boring”.

“Figured that might be the case. I saw the livestream of you fighting Haywire,” you bump your shoulder against his. “The Commission probably dumped a whole load of paperwork on you, huh?”

Shouto wrinkles his nose. He hoped you hadn’t caught that fight. The pursuit of Haywire—an eco terrorist with an electrical quirk—managed to cause an unprecedented amount of damage to the city infrastructure.

“You handled it as best you could. The power grid can be fixed. What’s important is people are alive because of you,” a warm weight covers the fingers restlessly whittling at his pant leg. You pet his hand, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt”.

Guided solely by his impulses, the instant you start to draw back he envelops the top of your hand and sandwiches it between his own. He goes hot and cold all over in quick succession. Boundaries, he reminds himself. But you’re not pulling away. You’re studying him with a knowing gleam in your eye.

Shouto clears his throat. Heat pricks across his skin, concentrated in his cheekbones. “Sorry,” he says. You can ask, a memory echoes. “Is this okay?”

“You don’t have to apologise. I told you it’s fine,” you reply firmly. “I’m happy to remind you if you need to hear it”.

“No, I…” his brow furrows. “I’ve been thinking”.

“That’s not good”.

Shouto snorts and shakes his head, his amusement petering out into a shallow breath. “I want to ask. I’ve wanted to ask like you said I could,” he explains vaguely. “I’m not very good at it, I think”.

You make a soft, understanding sound that immediately sets him at ease. “I guess, after denying yourself something for so long it can be scary to let yourself have it again,” you murmur, a faraway look in your eyes. After a pensive moment the sheen fades and your laughter lines deepen, “I’ll do what I did before, then. If you look like you need a hug I’ll ask you instead”.

“In what way do I ‘look like’ I need a hug?”

“You get this—I don’t know how to explain it,” you gesture vaguely at him. “This blankness about you, but not your normal resting face, I mean you don’t seem all there. I don’t like it. I like it best when you’re happy”.

“Ah,” comes his eloquent response. Shouto drops his gaze to where your hands knot together. Every quark in his body is urging him to get closer, and remain close. “Bakugo thinks I should try to hug Midoriya, too,” he adds, oddly flustered.

“Huh. You talked to Bakugo about—? That’s a surprise. A nice surprise, I mean! Well, Midoriya does give great hugs. It would be good for you to…”

Shouto’s thoughts grow louder and he frowns down at his rice. You’re saying something about physical touch and wellness and friends. Dopamine and serotonin. It barely registers. Two truths are pinging around his skull.

You have hugged Midoriya. Of course you have. You’re friends.

You think he’s great at it.

Why is that so unsettling? Teenagers think like this. Single minded and overly emotional.

He feels the shifting of your knuckles under his palm. “Hey. You’ll need one of these back if you’re going to eat,” you say.

“Right,” he lifts his left hand and picks up his chopsticks to take a pinch of rice from his bowl. He chews until the clamouring in his mind has settled, and you patiently accept his stoic silence without explanation. Shouto hasn’t been this awkward since highschool, and even then he was too wrapped up in his familial problems to be aware of it.

“What’s the project you’ve been working on?” he eventually asks.

You take the change of topic in your stride, leaning closer and lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “I’m not supposed to tell you but—it’s for Deku’s new costume”.

“Midoriya is getting a new costume?” Shouto replies. You playfully shush him and he pouts a little.

“Don’t sulk. He doesn’t know yet either,” you poke a chopstick at the corner of his jutted mouth. “It’s my job to prepare a design portfolio and talk through everything next week. You’ll get a new one too, when you break the top five”.

“If,” he amends.

“You don’t think you’ll move up?”

“Reaching the top was never really a priority for me,” Shouto’s attention splinters, half of his focus on the conversation and the other on the sensation of your skin. He considers overturning his hand to entwine your fingers. “I just want to be the best hero I can be”.

You hum, and as if plucking the desire right from his mind, absentmindedly slip into the gaps between his fingers. Shouto steadies his breathing and takes another mouthful.

The rest of the hour passes, syrupy and slow like molasses. By the final minute Shouto’s palm is sticky and reluctant to part from yours. You usher him out from the breakfast nook first, stacking the empty bowls before directing him back toward the emptied cafeteria.

You slide the bowls along the counter for the kitchen staff to take. Then you wipe your hands down your front as you pivot to face him, thrusting out both arms as he stands frozen.

“Can I hug you?”

Shouto touches his face and you laugh.

“This is because I want one,” you clarify with a warm grin, beckoning him closer.

Shouto inhales steps into the embrace, his arms instinctively wrapping around your back. There are less layers this time—the heat of your body is overwhelming, alongside the gentle rise of goosebumps across your bare shoulders. Your breath fell gently on his collarbone, his head lowering to curl into you. He thinks, were he not born to be a hero, he must surely be born for this.

“Thank you,” you mumble, squeezing his waist a final time as you retreat. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Shouto nods. Your presence moves away like the sun being blocked out and he watches you go, departing words caught in his teeth, an incessant buzz in his fingertips. The walk back to his office is a gauzy yellow haze. Every physiological response in his body told him that he was in a free fall, despite his feet being firmly on the ground.

“Shouto!”

Shouto halts mid-step at the familiar voice. He turns to look at Izuku, at the tentative beginnings of his smile. “Izuku,” he says.

“We missed you at lunch—are you feeling alright?” Izuku asks, slightly bemused. “You look kinda… floaty,” his eyes are dark, softened in the afternoon light as they sweep over Shouto’s figure and his face.

"Izuku," Shouto said before he could convince himself otherwise, “Do you want a hug?”

The innocent question appeared to crash into Izuku with the levity of a bullet train in motion. Tears sprang to his eyes, brighter now. Shouto tenses as he is swept into a solid hug. Izuku smells like fresh air, sweat and sweet-salty broth. He holds Shouto as though trying to keep his seams from bursting; thick arms are secure around his shoulders, and a rough palm rubs broad strokes down his back, smoothing the tension until Shouto is relaxed.

You were right. Izuku does give great hugs. Shouto came away doughy, and fuller, and with the stark realisation that while touching Izuku soothed the ache, it still felt completely different to touching you.

Later, as he leaned his head against the desk surface, he sluggishly contemplated the implications of that.

[jenctrl]

birds of a feather*ೃ༄

"that one time when she realised that some people love unconditionally"

warning; from the blackcat!Y/n series, the parts don't need to be read in order! this part contains some hurt/comfort! but it's all sweet :D

“Y/n?” Yunjin mumbled, her cheek pressed against the door as she tried to listen to what was going on behind the door to the feline’s room. 

The morning had been quiet, it wasn’t that Y/n was ever loud, but it had been empty for Yunjin. After not seeing her for almost a whole day, she wanted to see Y/n and be with her, especially today. 

The girl had locked herself in her room yesterday evening and hadn’t come out since then; it was almost lunchtime now. The canine had waited the whole morning, patiently(not really), she had nothing to do today except fitting in the early morning that she had been done a while ago with. 

It wasn’t the first time, Y/n tended to be hot and cold, it wasn’t something Yunjin minded as she knew about the black-and-white world Y/n lived in. There was good and bad, no in-between. The current situation was bad beyond words, it was just as bad for Yunjin, but she dealt with it differently. 

She raised her fist and knocked, there was no answer and nothing more but silence on the other side. Yunjin gently opened the door after knocking, peeking her head inside before opening it wider and fully looking inside. 

Her lower lip jutted out as she stared at Y/n whose back was turned to her, the girl was sitting on the floor. The luggage bags around her were open, but no clothes were inside; the clothes were rather sprawled out around the room, creating a mess that was unusual for Y/n who was organised. 

Y/n preferred to act like certain things didn’t bother her as if she didn’t care because she didn’t. She at least wished she didn’t. Who would have thought that after being proven the same thing over and over again throughout her whole life; one person could come in and alter all of it? Y/n liked when change happened but hated when someone else changed stuff in her life. 

She stared down at the empty bags, glaring at them. She had been sitting in the same spot for what felt like hours but was probably just around an hour as she had woken up not long ago. How could she tell someone about her reasoning when they felt stupid to begin with? 

Yunjin (and her members) would probably understand or try to, but it wasn’t easy. It was scary to be vulnerable and talk about her biggest fears. 

“Can I help?” Yunjin asked, leaning against the frame as she picked on her nails. 

“No.” The answer was cold and simple, that’s usually how the girl’s answers were, but this was different because there was actual distance that Y/n had put between them. 

“But I always help you pack.” The girl reasoned, her hands dropping to her sides in disbelief. 

“No, just leave.” 

All her life she had been taught not to get attached because people would come and go, no one stayed, no one cared, no one truly loved and if they did they would leave without a word. She learned the hard way that it was always better to be alone, to do everything on her own, to not seek comfort or help and only rely on herself. 

She realised a little too late that she had grown attached to the new people around her. She forgot her lessons the second Yunjin stepped in and after a while the same happened with the rest of the members too. 

However, it was different with the girl who sat down beside her on the floor. She hadn’t said it, but she gave in, unable to shut Yunjin out no matter how hard she tried. 

Yunjin stayed silent for a few seconds, her eyes scanning the girl beside her whose chin was resting atop her knees. She never liked it when Y/n fell into a gloom, it made her feel down too. 

“It’s only a month, it will go by quickly.” She tried to look on the bright side. Y/n was being sent overseas for a solo schedule and it would all line up with promotions and garner more attention. 

Only a month away from the highlight of her day, a month away from her comfort, from her safe space, from her home. Yunjin was realising how bad it was. 

They may have been dramatic in the eyes of everyone else, but this was shaking up their world.

Yunjin watched Y/n who huffed and turned her face to the side, being met by the back of her head now. Those weren’t the right words to say. 

Y/n ignored it when Yunjin stood up and walked out of the room. It made her pout as she got what she wanted, to push her away yet it gave her the opposite feeling as she released a long breath to try and get rid of the heaviness. 

Was it that easy for someone to leave? Y/n would know, she liked to leave people behind before they could leave her after getting to know how it felt. Once was enough. 

Another sigh fell from between her lips and she looked back at the empty bags she was supposed to start packing days ago. She had thought that stalling would help her forget and maybe make the problem disappear and she wouldn’t have to go if she hadn’t packed. 

“Okay, we will finish packing later–” Y/n was startled when Yunjin came back inside, it made her look up at the girl who stopped beside her, dropping a bundle of clothes, hoodies and sweaters, right into the luggage in front of her. Yunjin’s scent wafted through the air after they were dropped. “Right now, we need to go to the bookstore to get that book you wanted, I’m even paying.” 

“I’m not dressed.”

“Just get a hoodie and cap,”

Y/n wanted to say no and protest, tell Yunjin to go away, but instead, she pretended to be bothered without putting up a fight when her hands were grabbed. 

The canine took hold of the grumpy feline’s hands and pulled her to her feet to drag her out of her room at last before they left the apartment altogether. It was with a few grumbles and snarky comments, but she knew Y/n better than to think the girl didn’t want this.

She was just too stubborn to show that she wanted it.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“You know…” Yunjin started, trying to figure out the right words to say as she walked behind Y/n through the aisles of the small bookstore. It held an antique vibe to it, located in quite an isolated alley, they had found it a while ago while walking around. 

She got a short hum from Y/n, her eyes on the girl who was in a pair of loose black shorts with a hoodie, cap and slippers to match. Yunjin’s fingers grazed over the spines of the books while admiring everything around her, admiring the way Y/n admired her surroundings as her cat-like eyes curiously gazed around. It made Yunjin smile.

“You’re my Scrump and I don’t want to make you think about whatever is unpleasant, but I don’t want you carrying it all alone…Problems don’t usually disappear without being faced.” 

Yunjin’s heart raced slightly, it was a dangerous game almost. She knew that her Scrump was a tough cookie, but she was soft on the inside despite the outside being hard to crumble. However, it was these words of care that would make Y/n close off instead of open up. 

Y/n pursed her lips and swallowed before biting her lower lip. She hummed, that was all she could do as she pulled the cap down further and stopped. Her eyes looked over the books, already holding three as she reached for a fourth one.

“Mm,” Y/n gave a nod, unsure if she was acknowledging Yunjin’s words or the book she picked up. The strain in her arm disappeared when the books were grabbed from her hold and she turned to look at Yunjin. 

Yunjin tilted her head when Y/n frowned and looked at her with a small scowl, it was unusual to find clear signs of what Y/n was feeling on the outside. It was always masked so well. 

However, Yunjin could always tell how Y/n felt just by looking her in the eye. 

She reached her hand out and the feline clicked her tongue in annoyance when Yunjin pinched her cheek. “You’re too cute at times.” Her hand was pushed away, but she didn’t give up just yet. Y/n tried to squirm away when Yunjin wrapped her arm around her into a struggling half hug with books. “Aww, you need a hug, don’t you?”

“Let go.” Y/n tried to argue, unable to struggle free from the arm around her shoulders.

“No, hug me back and I will,” Yunjin argued back as she stumbled forward, managing to hold her balance and Y/n whose face was buried in her shoulder.

“You’re so annoying.” The feline exclaimed as quietly as possible because they were still in public, but she was getting worked up now. She tried to jump, but Yunjin’s hold around her was too strong. It made her groan when all she got in return was a laugh. 

“Hug me or I’m kissing your whole face.” Yunjin threatened and patiently waited as the girl calmed down and huffed in her hold. 

Y/n got out of the canine’s hold who yelped in pain, stepping away. 

“You bit me.” She accused as she looked at her shoulder, massaging it through her sweatshirt. Her gaze averted to Y/n who was frustratedly fixing her clothes and cap. 

She ignored what the latter said and looked at the book in her hold before showing it to Yunjin who pouted at the indifference on Y/n’s face after causing her pain. 

“Do you–” Y/n started, she usually wasn’t one to suggest these things or admit to wanting to spend time together. She loved being alone, but not lonely. “Wanna read this with me at the park?” 

Yunjin smiled while Y/n looked away, feeling weird and awkward for asking for someone’s time as she wasn’t used to it. Neither was she used to people having time for her.

“If I wanna read a book with you at the park?” Yunjin questioned, but Y/n’s gaze was still glued to the shelf of books beside them. “I would read a million books with you, let’s go pay and get food too.” She ushered, feeling giddy because even if Y/n didn’t say it or showed it differently, Yunjin knew. 

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Whether with words or silence, they knew how to soothe each other and Y/n felt everything she had put up slowly go away. Yunjin’s presence simply made her realise where she found comfort and who she trusted. That was it at the moment though, she still couldn’t let it out with words, but she could forget about it all for a moment as the canine made the bad go away. 

Yunjin knew that she was getting closer and she refrained from speeding up the process as the physical distance was gone at least. She sighed in contentment through her nose while adjusting her head that rested against Y/n’s who had her head on her shoulder.

The wind blew gently, it wasn’t a breeze that was cold yet it made Y/n sit closer, the older girl’s sweatshirt on her lap to get rid of any goosebumps. The food they ate had been discarded after they finished, sharing a meal and now sharing a novel Y/n had picked out. 

They both sat at a picnic bench that was close to Han River with people being too busy to pay them any mind. It wasn’t often that happened and so they refused to take it for granted just like they refused to take any moment spent together for granted. 

The time they spent together, the memories (good or bad) they created together, the times they thought about the other, talked or texted, in person or across the world, it was all moments to treasure. 

Love came in so many forms and was so hard to truly express, but they just knew what love was in these moments. 

Yunjin held the paperback book for both of them, Y/n’s one hand looped under her arm to flip the pages. The younger’s other hand rested against Yunjin’s leg, drawing patterns on the material of her jeans. There was no need for words to be exchanged in these moments where they dwelled in silence and their bond.

Y/n fought long and hard to find her peace, she refused to give it up and the longer she sat with Yunjin, in her warm presence that she was overly fond of; Y/n realised how much she didn’t want to be away from her comfort. It took so long to find. 

This was exactly why she relied on herself, why she avoided attachment, it was too scary and now she had to go through it all again. 

The canine gasped and lifted her head after Y/n flipped the page and the rest was blank: they finished the novel. The feline grabbed hold of Yunjin’s forearm as she sat up straight and the two turned to look at each other at the same time. 

“Bro.” “That was nuts.” 

“Since when do you say bro?” “And you nuts?” 

Yunjin put the book down and leaned against the backrest of the bench. Another silence occupied them (taking in the book they finished) and Y/n used it to lean back, however, she leaned into Yunjin who wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

“Just got shocked enough to say: bro,” Y/n mumbled and looked down at her lap as Yunjin let out a breathless chuckle. She stared at her hands, playing with her fingers and she tried to think about the book a bit more before trying to empty her mind fully because it wasn’t working. 

The canine could sense it, she could tell how Y/n felt even if the girl didn’t say it. The feline’s face was impossible to read, but Yunjin could simply just tell.

Sometimes the simplest gestures or the simplest words worked. She trailed her fingers along Y/n’s arm which was covered by the black hoodie while she stared down at the girl’s hands. 

They had been sitting around for long enough.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?”

“Your problems will always be my problems too. I will never let you go through it alone.”

Y/n’s silence grew and Yunjin moved her head to try and look at the girl’s face, only catching the little pout on her lips before she faced away from her. The feline’s eyes found their way to the sky and she watched the white fluffy clouds float by and change shapes. 

Why couldn’t she be more like a cloud? To also change the way she was the further down the road she got? 

The canine didn’t avert her gaze though, a small smile tugged on her lips as she watched Y/n who admired the clouds in the sky. With the clouds clouding Y/n right now, she would wither like a flower due to the lack of sunlight, however, Yunjin would blow them away just for her. She’d have time to grow back. 

She never wanted the girl to change, there was no one she could love more, no other version of Y/n than the real her. If she could just find the right words to say it, to let Y/n know that there was perfection in the flaws and the flawless because that’s what made the girl her feline. 

Yunjin was about to say the words, but Y/n got out of her hold and turned to her. It startled Yunjin as the girl stared at her. The feline stared at her for a second or two, blinking and the silence was making the canine nervous. Had she messed up? She only wanted to remind her of it, but not push her to it. She was about to sink into the ground any second. 

“Did you bring a camera?”

Yunjin nodded her head, taking a breath of relief as she quickly reached for her purse. She handed the digital camera to Y/n who used it to capture the clouds in the sky. The latter would get a couple of pictures of the feline later on.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“You have to take this.” Yunjin persisted as she tried to get past Y/n to shove the plushie into the only luggage that was left open.

“There’s no room for it in there,” Y/n argued, grabbing hold of Yunjin’s arm so she wouldn’t walk past her while she sat on the bed. They had spent the past few hours packing which should have been started days ago to make it easier. They made it work though.

“I will make room for Scrump.” She insisted and Y/n grabbed hold of her arm with both hands before pulling Yunjin down with all her might and a huff. Yunjin yelped as she stumbled and fell onto a pile of clothes on the bed, the plushie being taken from her hold. 

“Are you seriously not going to take the Scrump I got you?” The canine asked with sorrow and seriousness laced in her tone. 

Y/n rolled her eyes and looked down at the Scrump plushie in her hands. How could an inanimate object hold so much importance to the younger girl? They never did, but with time things changed, with her members, with Yunjin, somehow every little thing started being important. A plushie felt so important to Y/n that she would feel bad if she put it in the luggage.

“I am taking her–” Y/n mumbled and turned back to reach for the bag she’d have at hand when leaving for the airport in the morning. “Just not in there…idiot.” Yunjin chuckled as she watched Y/n place Scrump in the bag with the other important things she needed at hand.

It warmed Yunjin’s heart, this was what reassured her that each day they took steps forwards and not backwards.

“Can we stay up till late?” Y/n questioned as she somewhat regretted choosing to lock herself in her room all morning as she could have spent all that time with Yunjin. Now it felt like they were short on time and she desperately wanted to be able to make the day longer or be able to rewind and make different choices. 

“I will do anything you want.” She replied without any doubt, her tone back to that cheery one. 

“Why?” Yunjin hummed in confusion, tilting her head as she leaned back against her palms, gazing at Y/n. She didn’t expect a question back, not one like this. The other’s gaze was on Yunjin, but not on her face, avoiding her eyes as she puffed out her cheeks with a shrug.

“Why do you?” Why did Yunjin and everyone around her do so much and care so much for her? It was all so foreign, it was nice but also scary.

“I will do anything you want, follow you anywhere, and give everything to see you smile.” It wasn’t because she had to, but because she wanted to and knowing Y/n did the same for her whether consciously or not made it all worth it. 

The feline was worth it.

“But why?” Y/n emphasised, not understanding why anyone would go out of their way for her. 

How was following her through thick and thin so worth it for Yunjin? For her members? Y/n was there for them, she tried to be at least, but she wasn’t sure if she was enough for them. For anyone. 

The feline felt great and warm when she managed to make the people who were close to her smile, laugh, even cry (for good reasons) and just be there for them. However, she felt like she was nothing but a burden when they did the same for her. Y/n didn’t fit in and therefore didn’t deserve it. 

She had managed to get all these loving and supporting people around her, but she felt like a phony, someone who hadn’t done well or enough to have this much. It wasn’t deserved for an imposter in the home they created. 

Yunjin huffed as she pushed herself up, it made Y/n groan when arms wrapped around her shoulders, squeezing her tightly and holding her close. It washed over her, that warm feeling that made her heartbeat much quicker and she shut her eyes tightly, her back hitting the mattress. 

“Because I love you.” Why did hearing those words make her feel so sentimental?

Yunjin’s legs tangled with hers as the canine lay atop her, arms wrapped around Y/n as she hummed in contentment. The feline bunched up the sheets under her, trying hard to put up walls, to come off as indifferent, but the weight of sincerity and love was crushing it all as she lay limp.

“Why?”

Yunjin hummed as she acknowledged the whisper of a question and she smiled into Y/n’s hair. 

“I don’t need a reason to love you, I just do.” She finally found the right words to say to Y/n, these few words that said so much. That let Y/n know everything Yunjin always wanted to say to her, but never knew how. “Don’t act like you don’t know it, Y/n. We all love you, I love you. You’re nothing but loveable.” 

Yunjin lifted her head at the silence she received, her hands planted on the mattress and the second she did Y/n used a forearm to cover her face from the canine. It made her hand gently reach to her and try to remove it to see the girl, but she whined and grumbled, refusing to show herself.

The canine cooed, seeing how vulnerable it made Y/n. “You’re crying, my little Scrump.” 

“I’m not.” She tried to reply, her voice cracking at the fight she was putting up. 

Y/n couldn’t help it, those simple words meant so much. They made everything wash away and she hadn’t felt this light in her body for a long time. She snivelled, only peeking at Yunjin when the bed dipped beside her as the girl had moved to lay beside her. 

“It’s okay, although it is making me tear up,” Yunjin reassured her, knowing Y/n rarely showed herself at her weakest points, at times when she was vulnerable. It was making her teary-eyed too. 

She grumbled, removing her forearm and turning to finally hug Yunjin who hugged her back. The feline buried her face in her shoulder, bunching up the material of Yunjin’s shirt in her fist as her back was rubbed. It did feel good to hug and hear those words even if she tried to deny it. 

There was a court knock on the door–Yunjin humming out a reply–before it opened and Sakura was the first to peek inside followed by Eunchae, Kazuha and Chaewon. 

“We’re heading to bed, but thought we’d say goodnight and goodbye first,” Sakura explained as Y/n was departing early and wouldn’t be able to say goodbye. 

“Aww, look, she’s crying.” Y/n groaned at Chaewon’s voice and she was about to argue until her body was crushed by the weight of all her members. 

“We will miss you too.” Kazuha teased, making the feline flail her arm to get the girl away, “Shut up, Zuha,” only to get hugged tighter by everyone. 

Y/n did know it in the end, didn’t she? She knew that she was loved and cared for. She just needed a little reminder to remember that she did belong even if at times she was sure that she didn’t. A reminder that they were different.

Yunjin, all her members weren’t leaving, so she didn’t have to worry.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Yunjin woke up the next day in Y/n’s empty bed, it made her heave a sigh first thing in the morning. She stared at the ceiling for a while and thought about yesterday before deciding to think about the coming days up till Y/n’s return. 

The girl turned in the bed to face the room that was tidied up after the mess they had made. A book was on the bed and she reached for it as it hadn’t been there before. To try and distract herself she opened it and flipped past the first few blank pages and whatnot until she got to the official first page.

Yunjin smiled as she read the words that were circled in across the page.

I guess

I love

you

It made her flip to the next page as there were no more words circled in on the first one. 

a lot

Another page was flipped.

thank you

There’s 

nothing more

She knew that Y/n did, she knew the girl better than the feline thought she did. Yunjin was aware that Y/n would struggle to say them–always saying them with different gestures instead–because she simply struggled to outwardly express them. Yunjin didn’t need to hear it to know it.

The canine still kept flipping and she chuckled at the polaroid that fell out, making her pick it up–it was the two of them from last night–and look on the backside.

‘I knew you would keep looking cause you’re annoying’

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

How do you think Bucky would react to the reader admitting that she has a think for his metal arm?

I feel like he would be cocky about it

Oh, you see. Bucky Barnes is by no means a stupid man. At all…

Being trained as an assassin with quite a sensitive core, he knows which traits work for and against him. Yes, the army taught him plenty and Hydra taught him more. How to use weapons; how to properly use each and every one of them, to sharp shoot and count his ammo while he’s at it. How to abuse technology; how to hack into anything, photoshop a new reality and if he really had to, completely disable a traffic system and lay a country down flat.

But lying, manipulating and intimidating – that he learned on his own. Out of pure necessity. He knows what tone of voice will elicit which response, knows body language to a fault, knows how to ask which question to get the information he needs (or simply just wants) and how to stay quiet until the other person has dug themselves their own fucking grave. He knows how to use himself as his most lethal weapon and has had to.

So he knows damn well what his arm does to people. Yes, he can make it seem dangerous and intimidating. Knows exactly how to make people fear that arm. However, he certainly knows how to work it to his benefit. People’s unashamed curiosity with his arm and… Well, there have been plenty of men and women eyeing the appendage with a little too much interest. Bucky knows his sexuality well and the fluidity within it.

You are no exception. He catches you looking at his arm the same way he catches you looking at his lips. With the same hunger. Catches your heating face, too. Though he wouldn’t be the insufferable, broody, quiet man if he called you out on it instantly. Oh no. If anything, Bucky is a relentless tease, who doesn’t like it when people can’t ask for what they want or need.

When you started fooling around with him, you were already overwhelmed plenty by the unimaginable possibilities with him. Because he is a God. He knows his body perfectly and knows how to put it to good use. On top of that, it feels destructive, the way he can listen to your body and figure it out in a matter of minutes. He’s not only trained – he’s intuitive.

He had gone relatively easy on you in the beginning, only urging you a few times to verbally communicate to him what it was exactly that you were whining for. “Come on, baby,” he’d whispered in your ear with his flesh fingers slowly pulling out of you. “Can’t make you come if you don’t ask me to.”

He has melted your stubborn persona down to a begging, pleading, whimpering core more times than you can count. Relentless with his teasing, and sometimes going as far as to claim that he is a soldier after all, he ‘only takes orders’. Which is something you’ll get back to another time.

Right now though, you have reached your limit. It has been weeks of Bucky teasing something you cannot get yourself to admit. His metal arm. You want him to choke you with it, finger you with it, pull your hair with it– fuck it, you want to suck on his metal fingers until his jeans pop open at the sight.

And it is like he knows (because of course he fucking knows), because all he will do is stroke his fingers lightly over your pulse. Or brush the cold metal over your folds when he admires his next meal. He’s slid the hand into your hair, only to slide it down your back again without twisting his fist into your locks.

Prick.

“What has got you so worked up?” he asks when you writhe in the sheets uncomfortably. His metal fingers tease the apex of your thighs, mindless shapes burning into your skin. Your breathing is heavy and no amount of orgasms in the world could settle this need for that hand.

You bite your lip to keep from blurting out. Maybe it started with you being a bit shy and apprehensive about it, but honestly, now you’re just pissed. Weeks. Weeks he has been torturing you with absolutely fucking nothing at all.

“Bucky,” you breathe, exasperated.

“What, darling?”

You want to fucking scream at him. Honestly, you might.

Taking a deep breath, you swallow your frustrations and open your mouth to say something. But it is his metal, middle finger that dips into your dripping core that has you stutter on your breath. Yet it’s gone before you can moan out your relief.

“Fuck,” you rasp and swallow thickly.

“Hm?” he hums innocently and you want to throttle him.

“Do– ” you swallow again, ”Do that again…”

He forces a confused frown on his face and moves his flesh hand to your cunt, pushing in his middle finger. His flesh middle finger.

You squirm again.

“Bucky,” you grit out through your teeth, jaw clenching.

Suddenly, he’s there, his face inches from yours. Lips brushing your cheek and warm breath fanning your skin.

“Ask for it, baby,” he whispers, refraining from kissing your flushed skin. “Ask for what you want.”

You feel like you’re a child being told off and huff out your frustrations, making Bucky bite back a smile. Silence drags on and on and on. You try desperately to get your scrambled brain in order, especially since his orders – his voice – is another weakness of yours.

“Bucky, please…”

“Please what?”

“I want– ” you pause, quieting your pride like pinching out a candle, “I want your hand.”

“Say it,” he orders, waiting for the elaboration he knows is coming.

“The metal hand, Bucky,” you mutter breathlessly. “Finger me with your metal hand and I will do anything for you.”

Oh, and it is everything Bucky can do to keep his eyes from rolling back at the sound of those words, of that need in your voice. He might be a bit of a sadist, mentally rewarding himself for teasing you to the point of ordering your needs so sweetly. And he might be a secret sub for wanting to drop everything he is to give it to you the instant you ask for it.

His metal fingers are back at your cunt. Playing. Teasing. “Anything, huh?”

You can only let out a strangled whimper, your sweaty back arching when he brushes your clit. Bucky dips down again, brushing a soft kiss right below your ear that triggers a wave of goosebumps over your skin. “I only need you to do one thing for me. I’ll give it to you, I promise.”

You almost sigh in relief, until you realise who you’re dealing with. And you grit your teeth to the point of grinding them to dust, the metal fingers playing with you driving you to the brink of absolute insanity and dangling your release in front of you like chocolate.

“What,” you bite out. “What do I do.”

Bucky smirks and pushes two metal fingers into you, curling them into your spot with so much precision, you see only white.

“Come.”

[d3vdb0dyy]

trauma ig

@gorelvr and anyone else who wanted it

i’ll start from the begining because it’s the one thing that will make my story similar to others. it will have a begining and an end just like anyone else’s. i have been sexually abused since i was seven years old. my cousin joe (obv not his real name i was in israel at the time) he was considerably older than me. 13, not too bad, but at the time it felt like a worlds difference. it didn’t start slowly, not at all, and pieces of it i don’t even remember. i do remember closets tho. it wasn’t just an rape either. he wanted me to like it- either that or he was just sadistic. he would make me smile and beg for it, make me please him as a lover, told me it was right since i was his blood. in fact, he would draw this blood quite often. he would pinch me, beat me, cut me, anything to make me cry, because he had a rule. if i cried, he could come back to use me again. he would do anything to draw out a mere sound of discomfort, anything, any excuse so that he could come into my room at night and violate me. he called me his wife. he called me his girl. and in my native tongue i had to tell him i loved him as well. when i was 9, after two years of this, with no one believing me (and if you ask how it’s possible, youve clearly never heard of arabic jewish culture-) i move to america. i lived in chicago, and suddenly, i was a normal girl. sure, i couldn’t speak english but i was clean. no longer dirty. i was far away from joe and i thought maybe id be far from the pain too. i was far from the bombs that rang in my ears as i walked home, the desolate shelters littered around playgrounds, the constant whisper of “you are never safe” far behind me. i was ahead of everyone else, and when i heard that another one of my childhood friends died of an attack, it didn’t feel better, but at least it wasn’t me. at least it wasn’t me.

this is where i met a friend named lucie. she was the first female friend id ever had. my wonderful grandma, who was like a second mother to me (at the time when she was alive my mother was still kind, the lines on her face less pronounced, her words filled with less poison) signed me up for swimming classes with lucie. after swimming class, me and lucie would shower together. it’s started off because i had conditioner that she needed for her blond hair, conditioner that i was willing to give up to her because she was so much whiter than me, so much purer. she then asked me for favors. to touch her. she’s press me against the wall and kiss me, and when i resisted, she wouldn’t even react. she asked me for more. she said “if you do it well this time, you won’t have to do it again.” and “kiss me for longer this time, you only did two seconds, you promised ten” and each request, no matter how hard it was for me to do, was done. and each time, there came another. no matter how much she promised it’d be the last one, there was always more. i couldn’t get away from it. i was trapped. i was scared, and i wanted her to be my friend. she taught me that if u don’t give people ur body, they won’t stay. she taught me that im worthless besides what i can offer to others. she taught me everything i know and live by, and then she left anyways .

seventh grade- i had a very nice science teacher. i was doing very well in his class. his name i really cannot say because he is still teaching at the school in illinois, and no one has believed me, no matter what i insist happened. we were doing a bridge project. i was failing, because my grandma was dying. she was dying, and she was my everything. watching her- it was the hardest thing i’d ever done. but i couldn’t avert my eyes because it felt sinful. it felt wrong to look away because it was hard to watch- she was my grandma after all, the one who raised me, loved me, showed me the good in the world. so i watched. i watched and stayed with her and read her books she couldn’t hear me reciting while she lay in her hospice bed barely breathing. i wrote down the stories she told me through her tubes, and i tried to imagine that the wires connected to her were flowers instead, that she was somewhere were her grimace was rlly a smile. she stayed alive until my birthday, my 12th birthday, because she didn’t want to ruin it. she stayed alive, in pain, riddled with so much terror, to see me turn 12. one day, i walked into her room and spoke to her, and watching her eyes try to open, her oxygen intake spike up, her stiff limbs try to reach me- it killed me. i love her and always will. it feels awful to group her with this awful man- my science teacher, but in this story they do go together, unlike in real life where my grandma was such a big and powerful woman she always stood alone. or with me. i digress, the man- let’s call him Mr.P- he failed me. i was excelling- frankly, because im very smart and quite good with physics and such, but he still failed me. (shortly after this whole ordeal i was neurologically tested and i have an IQ of 156). i walked into his class one day, and all i can remember is him smiling, saying that he would give me an oppurtunity for extra credit, but that it had to be secret- you can tell where this is going. i had already learned from lucie that nothing is good abt me besides my body, and so when he took mine, the second person to- i could just sit and cry. at least this man let me cry- at least this one didn’t kill my hair to get a reaction, with the promise of hurting me more the less i liked it. i don’t remember much besides my face being pressed against vents on the side of the classroom. i would “wake up” (ptsd) with blood between my thighs, and cuts on my face from the metal on the vents, because of how hard he shoved my face in them. he had a daughter- she was 6 at the time. when i graduated, he told me he’d do the same to her. that was the first time i cut myself. because i knew i couldn’t stop him. i knew that i couldn’t do anything. i knew that what lucid taught me was wrong. my body wasn’t even special- it wasn’t even “worth it”, it was just available.

i moved all over the US, living in austin, chicago, colorado, and florida for the longest times. chicago was my home though, and i know the city like the back of my hand. this is not something many people can say, but i survived being homeless in chicago during the polar vortex. for those who don’t know, the polar vortex is a phenomena that happens every year. winds from the arctic pass through canada and end up in the midwest, chilling the air to roughly -58 degrees F or lower. after my grandma died, my mother became mean. angry. she scared me. she hit me. it’s too much to get into and frankly, i live with her and my dad now and i feel odd talking abt it. it’s my current reality as well, but what i learned from them is that words mean nothing. so i wont spend them here. after a week of being homeless and running to and from school, living in an underpass, someone started walking “home” with me. his name was pat. this is the man i often reference in posts. he was my best friend, not at this time tho. we walked home together for weeks, not speaking a word to each other, until one day i caught an awful case of pneumonia, the second time id fallen ill with it in the month. this time, i couldn’t walk, stand, breathe, or talk. i was passed out when he found me, at least that’s what he told me. he said he carried me to his friends house and that’s were they saved me. his friends name was biscuit, and biscuit ended up being a huge drug dealer. he kept me in his attic- it had a hole in the roof but it was better than dying in the cold. i had already lost my left foot to frostbite- i still can’t feel it but i can walk on it now, which is better than before. in the attic, and idk much abt it because rlly the memory is so hazy- sometimes i wake up in a cold sweat bc im back there, and sometimes idk if im dreaming or if its real- but rlly truly i dont know for sure what happened. all i know is that biscuit used to bring his friends up there, while i was healing (they put tons of drugs in me idek what they used to help me get better but im pretty sure it was a combo of depressants and steroids)- they would pass me around. i just get hazes- visions sort of. i dont even remember. i remeber the feeling of their hands tho, and suddenly feeling a lot colder, feeling the wind on my bare skin. i remember waking up with wind rash and scabs from cigarette burns. i don’t remeber enough o accuse anyone of anything though, so i didn’t mention it to pat. in my head, he didn’t even know. i was wrong ofcourse- he knew. he always knew.

when we got better and went back to our respective homes, we stayed very close. we formed a trauma bond. codependcy. it was wonderful while it lasted, but soon, he started to fall for me. he never raped me, but he did other things. i don’t care to specify at the moment because i fear ive already gone into prolific detail about things i never wanted to think about again. truthfully, i love pat. i do. i hold no hatred towards him, and i really don’t like to talk about all the bad things he did to me, because he was my sweet boy. i never loved him like that- he was just my best friend, but when i speak about him people don’t seem to understand. he understood me, and it’s just. hard to talk about because there’s so much to say. i can’t write it all down in this small part of a bigger story because i have so much to say about him that i’d rather just give it out in pieces. if you see something tagged with #pat or #i miss him, it’s probably about him.

idk what else to say. i’ve been manipulated many times since. used, beat, thrown away. at least pat had the decency to lie to me about it while he did. i’ve never been anyone’s first choice, and i’ve never felt as loved as i did when i had him. he was my best friend, and while this story isn’t about him, it’s hardly about me either. long story short, people used me because they could. i was available. i was around. i used to feel like a victim until i realized im just not special enough to be that. im not special enough to be anything to anyone, and my body wasn’t even “chosen” to be used because its me, it was just convenience. idk. that’s as much as im willing to share. there’s more but - for now this is enough.

[luvfy0dor]

Ahemm can I request s Fyodor x reader whos also russian but speaks better Japanese then him (i find it funny he's bad at learning Japanese) ♡

“Trust Me, Mine is Better ♡⁠˖” Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; Google translate Japanese, cursing, not proofread

Description; Fyodors partner is also Russian, but is better with speaking Japanese and learned faster, so his partner helps him out

A/n; I wanna have a study date w him so bad omg 3:

• He'd be a teeny bit passive about it to be honest, but all in all he'd be proud of you. It's not often that he comes across someone who's better than him at anything intellectual.

ೃ⁀➷

Being in Japan with your boyfriend was lovely when he wasn't out being a terrorist. He loved to sight see whenever he left your homeland of Russia, but directions weren't his forte, nor was the Japanese language. You were able to speak it rather fluently though. You didn't have much of an accent to begin with, but however much of an accent you did have immediately disappeared when you opened your mouth to speak Japanese. He couldn't help but feel a little jealousy bubble in his chest when you could fluently speak with a random stranger in the street to ask which way something was, but he hid it well. As a matter of fact, he'd praise you.

"すみません、地下鉄の駅はどこですか?" (where is the subway station?) You asked when you stopped a man in the street, looking for a way home with your boyfriends hand in your own. You could almost feel Fyodors subtle glare gently burning through your skin like corrosives while you listened to the guy pointing you in the right direction. “ありがとう!" (Thank you) You say, giving a small nod of appreciation and leading Fyodor in the direction you were given. "Wow, Moya Lyubov, it's like you get better at speaking Japanese every day. Even your writing improves just as rapidly." The words rolled off his tongue smoothly and you gratefully accepted his compliments, smiling and squeezing his hand. "Thank you, yours does too. It's nice that we're both learning Japanese, so we can help eachother out." You say, looking at the street ahead of you, heading down a flight of stairs to a subway station.

"You sound like you're past simply learning." He says lightheartedly, a small smile on his face. You look over to him and nod. "I mean, I can get around, but I still have so much to learn and that's okay- Fedya, oh my gosh! We could have cute study dates together!! A lot of people do stuff like that in highschool or college, but since we were never together during either of those, we could do, like, a mock-study date." You say, excited by your new, groundbreaking idea. He seems amused by your enthusiasm, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him. “I wouldn't mind being taught how to speak and write better as long as it's by you. Other people are much more condescending and teasing." He says. You could only imagine he was referring to Nikolai after watching him show the clown a paper with large Japanese symbols written on the paper, to which Nikolai started giggling and asked him what the fuck it was supposed to be.

Needless to say that was the last time Fyodor turned to Nikolai for constructive criticism, he wrote him off as unhelpful in this manner. Instead he'd only get it from native speakers or people who are, in his eyes, fluent in the language. They could give him real advice. But since you were proposing a study date with him where he could get constructive advice from you and do some more learning of the language in his own way, there was no reason to pass that opportunity up. You both agreed on the next evening after he got home from a DOA meeting, and it was more than pleasant. You both laid in each other's presence, practicing your writing, doing Duolingo lessons here and there, and etc. You eventually got bored, craving your lovers attention instead of knowledge. You leaned over and brushed his hair away from his face before whispering into his ear. “キスしてもいいですか?" His eyebrows furrow and his head turns to face you.

"Can you what?" His words are slightly slurred together with his accent and sleepiness. His lips are pink and clearly chewed with focus and frustration and his eyelids are droopy. "Can I kiss you?" You repeat in English. His eyes widen and he grins, reaching out to cup your face, pulling you in. "You don't have to ask to kiss me, Moya Lyubov." He closes his eyes and lets his lips meet yours, moving them together and rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You entangle your fingers in his hair and part, taking a quick breath of air and resting your forehead against his. "I know, I just figured I'd give you a new phrase in Japanese." He laughs and pulls you into his thin body. "Who else would I need to say it to?" His hands rubbed up and down your back. "No one, but still- just let me be flirty while staying on topic, alright?" You say with a laugh, twirling his hair around your finger. Not to say neither of you learned anything during your study date, but just in case Fyodor didn't, he now knew how to ask to kiss you.

A/n; sorry this post is like an hour later than usual my bad chat ☹️

[gale-force-storm]

Ok, new headcanon I've been playing around with for a bit, and I like it so I figured I'd share. The gist is this:

Morena Dekarios: Bard

Gale's always felt like he has some theatre kid energy to me. He's dramatic, grandiose, expressive, he quotes Shakespeare, he writes poetry, he loves telling stories, he comes up with a little rhyme on the spot if you cheat at that chess puzzle, he's just got That Vibe. Now, he could have come by this energy naturally. Some people are just Like That. However, please join me in imagining little Gale, listening with rapt attention as his mother performs a ballad, or tells a story with such skill that the entire room is enthralled. Imagine her trying to keep baby Gale entertained with some dancing lights, only for him to swiftly pick up the spell himself. Maybe one of the reasons he likens magic to art is because, well, that's what it was to him, when he was young.

Maybe Morena was an up-and-coming bard, travelling around the Sword Coast. Maybe she started a fling, as bards often do, with some handsome adventurer, and they traveled together for a bit. Maybe they found out she'd accidentally become pregnant, and after some discussion her partner agreed to return to Waterdeep with her, because, Morena insisted, the road was no place to raise a child, and she'd rather have her family nearby for support. So they went and found a house to settle in, and things were ok for a time. A bit bumpy, but they made it work, her partner taking odd jobs around the city and her taking gigs in taverns and inns and feast halls for as long as she was able. Even the first year or two of Gale's life things went relatively smoothly. But then his magic tendencies started really manifesting, and while Morena was initially excited, the chaos that quickly followed threw her relationship even further onto the rocks. They kept trying for a few years, but eventually, when Gale was 4 or 5, the partner decided enough was enough. He never wanted a kid to begin with, and all this? It was too much. He was out, and Morena and Gale never heard from him again.

Morena still did her best after that, of course. She was still proud of her brilliant son, despite the chaos and what anyone else might say, his father included. He was with her constantly, including often sitting by and watching her performances when no one else was able or willing to watch him. Luckily he always loved watching her play and sing and tell stories, so he caused relatively little trouble when he came along. She even started teaching him to cook, and to play a few instruments, which he picked up as quickly as everything else, though the piano seemed to be his favorite. She considered getting him into bard college in the future, following in her footsteps, but then Elminster came along. And while she'd been doing her best to help Gale with his magic, it was a bit of a relief to have someone so skilled, so practiced and renowned, be willing to help. A relief too, to have someone who saw Gale like she did (or so she thought): as a gift. Someone special, rather than a nuisance or possible danger. She adored Gale, doted on him, taught him as much as she could, but she could admit that she was a bit out of her depth with him.

By the time she started questioning the wisdom of having him go to Blackstaff at such a young age, started questioning the messages he might be getting, Gale was old enough and had inherited enough of her willfulness that there was no stopping him from diving headfirst into whatever he wanted to do, including more formal wizard training. She was still proud, of course, but she did worry about him. She was glad that he at least had Tara around to keep an eye on him, and that Tara was willing to report back to her. As long as Gale was happy, Morena resolved, that's what mattered. Her little storm. Her darling son with the mind of a wizard and the heart of a poet. A heart like her own.