#Lost my train of thought a bit there towards the end but ah well

[glitchlight]

dirt facts for the columbia river basin? 🤲

godddd the PNW has such interesting geology. There's a surprising amount of volcanic geology within the united states, but the majority of it is west of the rockies, and no place else is that more common than in the PNW. Geologists in the PNW are welcome to correct me, but as someone whose mostly worked in very predictable glacial geology or residuum from common marine sedimentary strata (limestone shale siltstone repeat repeat repeat -- hey karst!), my overwhelming impression of the PNW has been a region dominated geologically recent cataclysms which have dramatically reshaped the landscapes, and the Columbia River Basin has at least three different impacts that effect soil development as a result: the columbia flood basalts which stem from the yellowstone hot spot, the missoula floods at the end of the last ice age, and the influence of volcanic eruptions on the surrounding area from the cascades and the yellowstone hot spot.

The main thing I find interesting here however is one that is a little less than remarkable given the cataclysmic history of the region, and is far more mundane: the disparity in the landscape on either side of the cascades.

This is a somewhat remarkable observation on a flat image. In the space of 60 miles, the entire landscape transitions from a semi-arid landscape to one overflowing with greenery and vegetation. Driving west on I-84 produces landscapes that wouldn't be out of place in the rest of the arid west, Nevada, Idaho, Montana.

Of course, that is an illusion created by a flat image. Naturally, there is an entire mountain range in the way.

The imagery undersells it: this looks like a low range of hills, all too familiar to those of us who live out east and drive over rolling hills every day. The Columbia River Gorge, seen here curving off to the right beyond the Dalles, cuts deep through the Cascades and the high plateau built up by, you guessed it! All! Those! Flood Basalts!

This dramatic difference isn't just due to elevation changes, but is largely due to the infamous rain shadow effect that occurs in much of the PNW.

Brief detour to physics: pressure. In gasses, if temperature increases, pressure must increase (provided volume remains constant). If you've had a half an equation hanging out of your brain for the past 10 years from chemistry class, it's probably pV=nRT which describes this exact relationship. Anyways: if you take a bunch of moist air coming off the Pacific, and have winds blowing it up a hill, because it rises in elevation, atmosphere pressure decreases, so temperature of the front decreases as well and you get the PNW's infamous eternal rain. This entire effect is known as orographic lift.

And IN SPITE OF THIS! The soils aren't really all that different on either side of the range! They're primarily different in terms of weathering!

The agricultural soils to the east are rather plain, slightly developed soils which consist of drifts of dust deposited over thousands of years onto cracked basalt (floods again!). The same materials are present to the west, but because it rains so much more, they're much more developed, enough that silica, you know, the stuff Sand is made out of, has weathered and recemented within the soils, creating what's called a fragipan -- almost like a natural type of concrete!

Thanks!

[rizzyu]

You up to fanfic ideas? What about Lyney x reader when lyney is the new house of the hearth leader and, reader dont see him for some years so reader is all impressed about Lyney's new job and scared with is new status but also quite aroused. 👀 Lyney reciprocate, pehaps? Hihi

▵▿— Make Up for Lost Time

— Lyney x gn!reader

Category: A bit of fluff, a bit of angst and a whole bottle of suggestive

Synopsis: You return to the House of the Hearth after Lyney became the new “king”.

CW: An unholy amount of kissing, heavy implication of the saxophone dance

A/N: IM SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING FOR LIKE SO FUCKING LONG IM SORREHHHH thx so much for being so patient AAAAAAAAAAA ;w; enjoyeh

Taps of your boots against the floor echoed throughout the room. Fatui guards stood on both sides of you, creating a grandiose greeting. A figure sat at the office desk as it waited for you to move closer.

…

Ever since a young age, you knew Lyney as a valuable friend within the House of the Hearth. You had trained together, played together, lived together, gone on missions together… Your entire childhood evolved around your relationship. Gradually, new feelings sprung fourth, and you couldn’t help but fall for him. After all, he was the one who was always there for you.

Yet one day, you were requested to be taken away by another Harbinger – the “Marionette” – to act as her assistant for her new project. That day ended in a tearful farewell with the boy from your childhood, of course as well as Lynette and Freminet, and ever since that day, you never saw Lyney again.

Until…

“Ah, it has been a while, hasn’t it?”

The familiar voice rung in your ears. It was the same voice you loved hearing in your childhood; the same voice that entertained you with theatrics and magic; the same voice that comforted you when you were upset. The room was dim, merely the silver moonlight that casted from the window allowed you to actually see where you were walking. As you moved closer, the figure at the desk became clearer. It was him. It was Lyney. After so many years… you were tempted to just run towards him and engulf him in the tightest, teariest hug. But… to save yourself Lyney’s and your own dignity in front of the Fatui guards, you decided to suppress that urge.

During your time with the “Marionette”, you had gotten word that “Father’s” wish beca,e true, and Lyney became the new “King” of the House of the Hearth. Of course, that didn’t surprise you. Lyney had always been the most capable of the bunch, after all.

“It really has. I see you’ve been making quite the name for yourself whilst I was away.”

Lyney chuckled softly before standing up from his seat, moving around the desk before stepping closer to greet me with open arms. He moved into the moonlight, and you were finally able to see him in much better detail. He had grown so much since you last saw him. He still wore a top hat though, guess some things never change. Lyney sent you a wide smirk, his arms remain parted as he tilted his head. Ah… so that was what he wanted.

You obliged, taking a step to close the distance. You hugged each other, arms wrapping each other’s bodies in a tight embrace. You couldn’t help but mumble against his chest.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I know. I missed you too, ma cherie.”

Ma Cherie… Lyney was still just as much of a romantic at heart as before. Hearing him call you that made your heart do a little flip. With merely a swift gesture of his hand, he ordered the Fatui guards to leave the room. The guards obeyed without a second thought, leaving only you and Lyney in the office. Lyney hugged you closer, sighing dramatically.

“Oh, ma cherieeee... you left me for so long. Can’t believe you’re so cruel to mee…!”

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh. He was just as dramatic as before as well. Lyney cupped your cheek and lifted your head to fixate his lavender gaze with yours.

“You can’t possibly imagine how difficult it was to live through every day without you by my side!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry for leaving you, Lyney.”

“Oh but how could a simple ‘sorry’ ever repay all that pain you made me go through! My dear Y/N, I have so many things that I want to tell you about.”

Lyney brushed his knuckles along your cheekbones. With a flick of his hand, he made a fresh rainbow rose appear in your hair.

“Oh ma cherie, after all these years… my love for you never faltered.”

Lyney never ceased to take your breath away with his words, and this was one of those times. His love…? For me…?

“You love me? As in… romantically?”

Lyney sighed and placed a hand over his heart dramatically.

“Oh dear Y/N, I can’t believe you’re feigning innocence! You truly wound me. Of course, I love you! Ever since we were childhood friends, I couldn’t help but fall in love with you! You were the one and only person that could ever steal my heart like this, ma cherie.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. After all this time… You cupped his cheeks, thumb running over the red teardrop mark on his cheekbone.

“How could I be so ignorant this whole time… I love you too, so much.”

Your eyes bore into his own. Without any words exchanged, both of you already knew what you wanted to say. Lyney closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours. It was as if fireworks had went off inside you. Finally, after all these years, you were able to feel the plumpness of his lips against yours. Your lips slowly parted and you smiled against his skin.

“I’ve been wanting this.”

“So did I, ma cherie.”

One kiss turned into two, and two into three. Every kiss became more passionate than the last. After the third kiss, you pulled away, panting softly for air.

“You’ve grown so much… Lyney, I always knew you’d make it up to the top and become the “King”. I must say, it’s kinda hot seeing you act so mysterious and nonchalant like “Father”.” I teased.

Lyney chuckled lowly at your words.

“Hot, you say? You’ve grown up to be quite good-looking yourself. Buuut, it wasn’t like you weren’t good looking before.”

Lyney kissed you again, his tongue tangling with yours with urgent ardour. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his hands gripped your hips tightly. It was as if both of you were desperately trying to make up for lost time. With a swift movement, Lyney picked you up in his arms and carried you to his desk before laying you on the surface as he kissed you breathless. Lyney pulled back for air, panting as he brought a hand up to caress your soft cheek, while his other hand caressed your thigh through your clothes.

“Lyney, you- “

“Shhh…”

He hushed you gently before moving to kiss your jaw, planting one kiss after one kiss on your skin. He missed you so much, he just couldn’t help it. He couldn’t hold back his searing love for you. How dare you dress so nicely to see him as well! Not to mention the soft whimpers you were letting out absolutely drove him insane. He wanted you so badly.

You wanted him just as much.

Your lips connected once again in a searing kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist, digging the heels of your boots into his skin as your hands roamed over each other. Gradually, pieces and pieces of clothing fell. Lyney’s lips parted yours as your hands buried themselves in his silky ash blonde hair. He trailed his hand down your thigh before lifting it up to hook your leg over his shoulder. The initial official meeting was completely forgotten as you drowned in each other. Could anyone blame you though? You missed each other dearly after all. He kissed you for the nth time tonight, pulling back only to kiss you breathlessly again. He grabbed your other leg and hooked it over his shoulder as well.

“Lyney…” You gasped.

“Shh…” He hushed you softly again. “Let me… let me make up for lost time.”

MY HAND

[alargehunkofdebris]

the necessary anguish of the Good Omens 2 finale

Ah ok. So after 4 years of waiting post Season One and ten cumulative years of bookish fannery, I watched bonified New Content of Good Omens. And when those credits rolled, I sat there, not in my expected state of pleasant satisfaction, but in a state of abject shock.

I actually don’t know if I’ve ever had such a reaction to a show before. Or, rather, that I could still have such a reaction. I’m thirty, for goodness sakes – I was planning on being thrilled and charmed and entertained, not having my hands shake so much that it was hard to type a text. I wasn’t planning on losing an entire night of sleep because my heart wouldn’t stop pounding really hard, Neil. This was not expected. I had an estate sale to run the next day – by God, I needed that sleep.

 Anyway. These are my thoughts on the season, and on this upswell of mourning/unhappiness at such a gut-wrenching ending. As always, this are my dumb opinions and nothing more; take with a grain of salt, etc. 

I have seen a lot of suffering on Tumblr today. Everyone is in pain, and it makes sense. I, too, am in pain. But I might be in the minority, because I thanked God/Mr. Gaiman when things turned to pure pain in the end. Because narratively, despite the anguish we all feel, this is how it needs to be. And I was getting real worried there for a second.

When we have a mini-series (ie, a show with a set number of seasons) it can’t act the same as a series without a set end. We’ve got three potential seasons; therefore, they logically should behave like a three-act play, or the three acts in the standard Western movie/book plot. This middle season is the middle act, the second act. While it definitely doesn’t work exactly the same way, and needs its own story arc to work as a season, it is still functionally the middle part of one overarching plot.

And what usually happens near the end of the second act? All Is Lost, and the Dark Night of the Soul.

We NEED this to happen. This is what makes a plot delicious. If we’d had this perfect, lovely, romantic season where the stakes aren’t raised one bit and everything is fixed at the end, we would want for nothing and the gorgeous tension that keeps us waiting and watching would be lost. We wouldn’t feel that drive to create fanfics and fanart, we wouldn’t have the need to speculate or dream, because most of the tension was eased, and you just can’t have that if you want a highly anticipated third season. We’d have nothing huge and concrete to look forward to.

In fact, I was getting really worried once the Ineffable Bureaucracy started happening on screen, because I could see (I thought) past that bend in the road toward the end. I could see how this season might conclude, with big happy confessions of love and hugs and handholding (that’s all I expected, because I only expected the same chaste level of affection with both angelic/demonic couples) and then…then it’d all be over. What more could there be? I mean, there certainly could be more, but THIS is the main thing people waited for. The Happy Confession. The hug. The handholding. Whatever we got. And in my mind, having it now, at the end of season two, just wasn’t adding up – it did not fit. It couldn’t. No, we can’t have this now. It doesn’t work.

I get this peculiar thing that happens when things start getting too “everything is great!” in a story. I get the “someone needs to die” instinct. Instead of pure happiness that things are going great, there’s this feeling of intense discomfort, because I feel the weight of the shoe that’s failing to drop. I need it to drop, or else it throws off my entire standard-Western-narrative-trained brain’s balance. In the build up to The Scene, when things seem to be going swimmingly and heading directly towards the happiest and syrupiest of endings, I had to pause and pace my living room and roll around on the floor to alleviate the sheer build up of stress. Things can’t go this well. They can’t. There hasn’t been enough bad things, this is too sweet, too much. Can’t handle it. This can’t just be pure wish-fulfillment at this point; Good Omens shouldn’t work that way, it never has. We’d be happy in the moment, but then it’ll ultimately be a let down. No more danger. Nothing keeping them apart. No more tension, no more story. It was all too easy.

And then, finally, that shoe dropped. After a season of mainly getting along and being just thrilled with each other, they began to really argue. Things got horrific and serious, and I literally let out a breath of relief. I was able to watch without pausing every two minutes for a breather. Ok. Things weren’t over. This wasn’t the end. We had more to wait for.

And then it went on. The confession started, but in that gorgeously wrong way. And for the first time that season, I was actually feeling the stress of the story. Yes, there was danger throughout this season, but it was always layered with humour and wit. You didn’t get a demon scene without them doing something hilariously stupid. You didn’t get an angel scene without them being delightfully out-of-touch. The stakes were high, but they weren’t allowed to get EXTREMELY high. We never thought there was any question of them getting out of scrapes unscathed, because it was never all serious.

Never…until now. There was zero humour at this point. After 6 episodes of being pleasantly delighted, I was feeling the dread. However, I still thought I knew where it was going.  

See, I thought I had it figured out. If I had any extra money, I would have bet some of it. I knew that, whilst they’d likely have some kind of subtle confession of love and caring, and perhaps a touch – a hug, or a hand-hold (like Gabe and Beez) – I knew we couldn’t expect a kiss. This is a story thirty-three years in the making, and it’s always been in that grey area. They weren’t humans; they didn’t necessarily show affection that way. Besides that, we’ve had so many TV shows that get close, but rarely ones that go all the way to smoochville. OFMD was one of the very first, but it was new. It wasn’t an old, established story from the 90s like this is. It didn’t have decades-old fans waiting with bated breath for canon content. For Good Omens, we heard it time and time again in interviews; it’s a kind of love story. They had this kind of marriage. They cared for each other. They had a bromance. It’s close, but never quite there. So I thought I knew exactly how this would go, and would be thrilled with what we got. 

And then it absolutely didn’t go that way. It went exactly as far as so many hoped. And it went there like a knife to the gut.

And it was perfect.

Goddamn, what a season ending. Despite my lack of appetite and failure to sleep, I could not be happier with what Mr. Gaiman did. I am screaming crying throwing up and I’m thrilled about it.

The middle of a story is typically what drags; it never holds the highest stakes. Lord knows what we’re going to get in season three (knocking on wood), but I can only expect it to get bigger and heavier. And by God and/or Satan, am I prepared, in this deliciously painful purgatory, to wait and see.  

[beyondthegame]

“You′re the sweetest I've ever tasted” or “I will love you without any strings attached” for e please? thank you <33

E’s day has been going terribly.

They forgot to go shopping and ran out of eggs this morning. Spilled tea over their notebook which caused a string of curse words to fall from their lips. Had a mini argument with their mum over the phone. Read a damaging story about them in the press, which has all been accompanied by writer’s block.

Alongside the fact that you haven’t replied to their last text, which wouldn’t be an issue if everything else hadn’t been going wrong.

E lets out a heavy sigh before running a hand across their face. They could do with a break, it would probably reset them for the better.

“Oh, fuck it.”

Mind made up, E reaches over the coffee table, picks up their phone, checks the screen and slips it into their pocket.

Their shoes are on next, and as they walk past the full length mirror in their wide hallway, E’s immediate thought is ‘I look like shit’ but they’re not going to see anyone (fingers crossed!) so it’s fine.

E loops their keys around their fingers and pulls open the door. The sight outside their door would usually bring a smile to their face, a witty, flirtatious comment after that, but they’re honestly surprised to see you.

“Hi,” they blurt out, lacking their regular self-confidence.

“Hello,” you murmur, a slight smile on your own lips as your eyes scan E quickly—and whilst they’re hating how unkempt they’re looking at the moment, you’re actually a fan of them looking comfortable in sweats and sliders. “Going somewhere?”

E points down the hallway. “Um, the bookstore, yeah.”

“Hm, want some company?”

E doesn’t hesitate. They give a causal nod and for once today, they can smile. “I’d like that.”

—

“You were coming to see me, then?” E eventually asks when you’re side by side and halfway down the street. “That’s why you were outside my door?”

You smirk. “No, it’s just normal for me to find out where celebrities live and just stand there,” you utter sarcastically.

“Ah, of course, you’re in your stalker era,” E murmurs, continuing the joke as you both turn a corner.

“I would’ve replied to your text if I was stalker,” you shoot back, only to receive a side eye from the musician.

“That’s a fucking low blow.”

You chuckle at the pout on their lips, silently claiming victory. “My phone died, and then I had training,” you admit, realising that you’re outside the entrance to the little bookstore. “Thankfully it did or I wouldn’t be here with you.”

E pulls open the door and takes a step back, allowing you to go in first as the bell above the door chimes. “Little victories for us,” they murmur as they go in after you.

It’s only a few minutes of walking around until E’s settled. They look less stressed, the tension has fallen from their shoulders, and they’re happily picking up books and reading the blurbs with a creased brow—debating whether to buy the literature or not.

“Do you come in here for anything particular?” you question, your eyes scanning over rows and rows of shelves, seeing as other customers get lost in between them.

E shakes their head. “No, not really. I mean, obviously it’s nice leaving with books, but just being here is…comforting. It gets me out my mind a bit.”

They’ve overshared. They can tell, E’s internally squirming at the anxious thought whilst you’re standing here happy to listen to their detailed answer.

They wet their lips. “I don’t…this doesn’t really happen with me and other people,” E rambles.

“What?”

“Being here, sharing personal stuff,” E answers.

You blink. “What’s it usually like with people you end up fancying?”

E thinks for a moment, plucks a book off the shelf and flicks through its pages. “It’s usually, ‘I’m famous, we find each other attractive, we fuck, and I may hear from them again, most likely not’ and that’s it.”

You nod a little. “Okay. What about you and me then?”

E returns the book to the shelf before turning towards you. “Uh, well, you and I haven’t had sex.”

“No, I know,” you say, “but you said that’s how it usually happens. What makes me different?” you question. “I mean, you do fancy me.”

E snorts. “Do you reckon?”

You smirk. “Well, you have mentioned it once…and from what I recall you hadn’t had a sip of alcohol, so I’m guessing it wasn’t a drunken mistake.”

The two of you are walking to another bookshelf, in sync almost. “Maybe a sober one?” they joke.

Your gaze snaps towards them, only to find a broad grin over their lips and their dark green/hazel eyes shimmering.

“No, it wasn’t a mistake,” E utters. “I don’t know, I suppose I just didn’t think anything romantic would between us. Or we’d only be friends and nothing more. Or, you wouldn’t like me back,” they trail off. “The list is endless. I have always found you attractive, if that helps.”

You laugh. “That does help.” You pause. “I do.”

“Hm?”

“I do like you back,” you say, your voice a little stronger as E absorbs the words and smiles at them.

“I did gather,” they utter. “But it’s nice to hear those words on a bad day.”

You think for a moment. This should be the hard part out the way, admitting feelings to each other, yet it still feels like there’s another hurdle to get over.

“So where does that leave us?” you ask.

“Hm,” E hums. “When I said you’re different, I meant it. We know how the other feels now so maybe we’re attached and tangled up in strings now, or maybe its knots.”

The books are a little forgotten because you’re in front of E now, and whilst they’ve said all this in a somewhat confident persona they’re nervous as hell.

They’ve thought what it’d be like to kiss you, date you, be in an actual relationship with you that doesn’t have them questioning whether they’re enough.

Definitely knots.

“I’m a bit of a hopeless romantic so it means I should ask you out on a date and admit that I’ve thought about kissing you at least once,” E says.

The corners of your lips twitch upwards. “Only once?”

“Don’t let it stroke your ego.”

“Oh, it already has,” you laugh. “Are you going to?”

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

E blinks. “You want me to?”

“I really want you to.”

Funnily enough, it’s common thought that E’s been with and fallen in love with many people. Additionally, it’s extremely far from the truth, so they find all of this nerve wracking: the stepping forward, the hand on your cheek, their thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“You still want me to kiss you?” E asks, their lips close to brushing yours, yet needing extra confirmation.

“Of course I do,” you whisper. “We’re in knots, aren’t we?”

And they do. E’s flutter closed, their lips fall against yours and it’s gentle and sweet. Everything they had imagined and more.

[kaizoku-musume]

Put Your Hair Up

This is my first entry for @xxsycamore's Visions of Temtpation kinktober event. I'm definitely not going to get everything done by the end of October, but I wanted to ring in the event on the first day, hopefully I'll have at least written all the fics down by the end of the month so I can meet my personal deadline of November 30, but we'll see how that goes.

This first fic is for Birushana, For anyone confused about some elements of the fic, basically I ignore the ending of Noritsune's route and instead make up my own where Yoshitsune claims Noritsune as her concubine (still disguised as a man) and they go back and live happily in Oshu. Also, I headannon Yoshitsune as bigender and flip between using she/he pronouns. Link to the fic on AO3 here.

Prompts: Cowgirl Position | Doggy Style

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hot afternoon sun beat down mercilessly on Noritsune as he walked among the outdoor stalls toward the end of the street, finally done with their shopping. He sighed and adjusted his ponytail with his free hand, knowing it wouldn’t give him any true relief but helpless to do anything but try anyway. He tightened his hold on the bag of groceries, careful not to let his sweaty palms cause it to slip. Maybe he should start putting his hair up like Yoshitsune-surely raising it in a high ponytail would provide more relief to his neck than his current style, even if he tossed it over his shoulder as much as he could.

Speaking of, his husband took the opportunity to run a finger along the back of Noritsune’s neck, brushing against his hair. Yoshitsune murmured something Noritsune couldn’t hear, sounding lost in thought. Curious, Noritsune glanced back. Yoshitsune’s eyes were half-lidded as she gazed at his neck, mouth slightly parted, before she noticed Noritsune looking at her. “What?” she asked, and whether she was feigning innocence or not, Noritsune couldn’t tell. Yoshitsune had developed a bit of a devious streak as he grew accustomed to their relationship (or did it start as early as announcing Noritsune as his concubine that fateful day?), and he found that she was often keeping him on his toes out of battle as much as she did in it.

“‘I’m covered in sweat and my hair is a mess. That can’t possibly be doing it for you,” Noritsune knew as he said it that it wasn’t true-he recognized the way Yoshitsune was looking at him, as he’d seen it all too often. He just hoped Yoshitsune didn’t call him out on his hypocrisy; how often had he told Yoshitsune how attractive he looked after a heavy training session?

Yoshitsune blushed, caught out. “I don’t know why you’d think that,” he said, “since you usually look like this by the end of our nights together.”

Ah, so that was it. “So I’m just reminding you of what state you leave me in?” Noritsune teased. He did end up quite unraveled afterward, didn’t he.

“Well, there’s that, but also,” Yoshitsune chewed on his bottom lip, fighting off embarrassment, “I’ve told you how much I like seeing your hair like this. I know back then I said it was because it was nice to see you relaxed and comfortable. But it’s also . . . There’s just something really enticing about the way your hair falls over your shoulder, and how it bares the back of your neck. It makes you look . . . vulnerable, I guess.”

Noritsune understood. It was part of why he liked seeing Yoshitsune let his hair down at home-part of it was getting to be the only one to see Yoshitsune like that, but part of it was because it was Yoshitsune at her simplest and truest, without having to put herself together for propriety’s sake or keeping up tradition or the like. But Yoshitsune wasn’t done speaking. “And it’s even worse now,” he continued, “because it does remind me of-you know.” She side-eyed the marketplace, wary of the families with kids around that didn’t need to overhear them talking too graphically.

“Well, in that case,” Noritsune leaned over to whisper in her ear, “when we get home, why don’t we make it so that you’re the cause of me looking like this instead of the weather?”

Yoshitsune inhaled sharply, staring at Noritsune with open desire. It should be ridiculous, the fact that the pair of them could get each other worked up even in this oppressive heat. They weren’t even a new couple anymore, and yet Noritsune found himself just as hungry for Yoshitsune as he had been when he first began fantasizing about his former rival.

Spirits renewed, the two hurried home hand in hand, offering brief greetings to people they recognized on the street. It was by some miracle that they didn’t encounter one of Yoshitsune’s vessels or the merchants Noritsune regularly protected. Upon arriving home, they dumped the groceries on the closest table to be put away later.

Thus unencumbered, they collided together, ignoring the high temperature to mold their bodies to one another. Yoshitsune used her height to her advantage to lay kisses over Noritsune’s neck and jaw until she reached his mouth. Noritsune wrapped his arms around himneck as he kissed him back, clumsily backpedaling them to their room while trying not to trip. They hurriedly shoved each other’s clothes off, leaving a trail behind them, their mouths staying stubbornly pressed together. Noritsune almost sent them crashing to the floor when Yoshitsune’s tongue pushed past his lips, wrapped around his own, and sucked.

When they reached their bedroom, they hastily dug through their things to get what they needed to prepare. Noritsune knelt down to help Yoshitsune step into her strap, tying the leather bands around her legs as she took care of the ones at her hips. Once he was all situated, they collapsed on the futon. Noritsune twisted open the cap to the oil, moving Yoshitsune’s hands away when he reached out to help. “You just sit back and watch for now,” he ordered, “I don’t need you crowding me in this heat just yet. I know you’ll do it plenty later.”

Yoshitsune pouted but relented. She watched, near vibrating with impatience as Noritsune poured the oil over his fingers before bringing them down to his hole to start fingering himself open. Yoshitsune had a gorgeous view of him laying down on the bed, his pink hair a stark contrast against the white sheets, his arm crossing his body as he sunk one finger inside himself and started stretching himself. He slipped a second finger in as soon as he was loose enough to handle it, scissoring them with practiced ease. Yoshitsune’s hands clenched on top of her knees as Noritsune prepared himself, breathy sighs escaping him, his free hand pinching at his nipple. She glanced up from the show to meet Noritsune’s gaze, shuddering at the passion that met her head on, the amused challenge as Noritsune expected her to wait for him to finish. Yoshitsune hoped he looked half as composed, because he felt like he was at the end of his rope, even though Noritsune was the one with what was now three fingers drilling into him.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Noritsune tore his fingers away. Within seconds, Yoshitsune was on him. Noritsune laughed and gently pushed him back. “Hold on, hold on, I have a plan,” Noritsune guided Yoshitsune onto his back.

“You’re going to ride me?” she grinned up at Noritsune.

“Something like that,” Noritsune said. To Yoshitsune’s surprise, he turned around before clambering onto her lap.

“What are you doing?” Yoshitsune asked, confused. They almost never had sex facing away from each other-for Noritsune to suggest such a position himself, he must have a really good idea.

Noritsune glanced back coyly. “Since you’re so obsessed with my hair and neck, I figured I’d give you a good view of them,” he explained as he playfully tossed his hair, arching his neck in an alluring way. Oh, Yoshitsune mouthed, thoroughly enraptured-he was so transfixed that he almost missed it when Noritsune situated himself over his wooden cock and sank down. Noritsune groaned as he took in inch after inch until his ass was settled squarely on Yoshitsune’s hips.

“Take it easy,” Yoshitsune said, running soothing hands up his back. Noritsune sat still, breathing evenly to help him adjust to the stretch and fullness. When his body had calmed down enough, he began to move, gripping Yoshitsune’s knees as leverage as he started a shallow, gentle slide up and down Yoshitsune’s length. Yoshitsune propped herself up on her elbows to get a better look.

Noritsune was right, it was a good view, and Yoshitsune made sure to tell him as much, even if he kept the details to himself. Noritsune’s ponytail bounced along with him, a few free strands brushing against his neck enticingly. The muscles in his back shifted with every movement he made, and Yoshitsune could see every time her cock was swallowed by his ass, rim stretched wide to accommodate the intrusion, his cheeks jiggling as he shoved himself onto her cock.

Yoshitsune lasted only a minute or so of watching and letting Noritsune set the pace before he was overcome with the need to participate. The next time Noritsune rocked down, Yoshitsune bucked his hips up to meet him. The action tore a surprised gasp from Noritsune, so Yoshitsune did it again, and again, and again, matching Noritsune’s pace. Yoshitsune ran a hand up and down Noritsune’s spine, her other hand latched onto his hip to help guide him up and down. Her attention was torn between Noritsune’s flushed nape and begging-to-be-tugged ponytail , his flexing back, and his bouncing ass. “Are you touching yourself?” Yoshitsune asked. She had to know if Noritsune was as affected as she was-if the idea of her watching him like this drove him equally mad.

Noritsune shook his head. “I don’t want to come too fast,” he said.

Well, that wouldn’t do. “I want to watch,” Yoshitsune blurted out, “I want to see what it looks like from here.”

Noritsune groaned, that simple sentence all he needed to give in. “I don’t know if I can touch myself and ride you like this at the same time, Yoshitsune-not if you don’t want me hunched over too much. I don’t have a lot of leverage.”

“I can fuck you harder if that helps,” Yoshitsune offered. Noritsune laughed, the sound shifting to a moan as Yoshitsune’s cock grazed his prostrate on the hard thrust he gave as an example. Yoshitsune shifted, raising his legs and planting his feet on the bed, bringing his knees close to Noritsune’s chest. “There, does that help?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’ll work,” Noritsune gripped her left knee and used it to help him grind and bounce on her cock, using his right hand to start stroking his own dick. Yoshitsune’s view was limited, but she could see his arm jerking up and down, and there was something about only seeing that motion and not him actually touching his cock that added to the experience. It added to the tease and built up anticipation, made him ache more for what he was missing out on.

With better leverage, Noritsune rode her cock much easier, sliding up and down quicker and harder. Whines mixed in with his panting as he slammed his hips down to meet Yoshitsune’s, hand clenching on his knee each time he dragged himself up. He was getting close-even with his limited view, Yoshitsune could tell. Not wanting to miss it, Yoshitsune raised herself up and plastered herself to Noritsune’s back, hooking her chin over his shoulder to catch the action.

“Haha, see?” Noritsune chuckled, “I knew you’d be all over me.” Yoshitsune fucked up into him sharply in response, hiding a smile against his shoulder. “Fuck, okay,” Noritsune picked up the pace, stroking himself faster. Yoshitsune gripped his hips tightly, using her hold to help fuck up into him harder, feeling the strap drag deliciously against her clit with each thrust. He watched as Noritsune fucked into his fist, dripping precum easing the way. Noritsune’s breath wheezed out of him, his thighs clenched, his cock twitched, and Yoshitsune knew this was it.

With a moan, Noritsune tossed his head back onto Yoshitsune’s shoulder and came. Yoshitsune soothed him through it, running his hands up his sides, kissing his shoulder and neck. “That was amazing, Noritsune,” she praised when Noritsune’s breathing had returned to normal and his body had stopped shivering from the aftershocks.

“I knew you’d love it,” Noritsune grinned. Yoshitsune hummed in agreement, scraping her nails along Noritsune’s skin, nipping at her husband’s neck. Noritsune sighed and submitted himself to the sensations-he knew Yoshitsune was winding him up for a second round. She hadn’t come yet, and she was almost never satisfied with making him come only once. She’d better be okay with him laying down or something, because he was not going to be able to ride her again. Eventually, his cock stiffened back up, half hard and apparently enough for them to be ready to move on.

Yoshitsune began repositioning himself, bringing his knees back down to the bed and raising himself up, nudging Noritsune forward until he all but fell out of his lap, hands and knees planted on the bed and Yoshitsune right behind him, standing up on his knees, one hand still clinging to his hip and cock still buried in Noritsune’s ass. The transition was so smooth that Noritsune needed a second to realize what had happened. “How long were you planning this move?” he accused good-naturedly.

“I don’t know, it was more like instinct,” Yoshitsune said. Without any fanfare, he started rocking into Noritsune, dragging his cock out until only the tip remained before nudging back inside, setting a slow, gentle pace so as not to instantly overwhelm Noritsune just yet.

“I hope you know how terrifying you are,” Noritsune said amidst his panting. He pitched back into each thrust, easily matching her energy. “It’s scary how much of a natural you are at this.”

“So are you though,” Yoshitsune finally gave into his urge to play with Noritsune’s hair and grasped a fistfull of pink strands above his hair tie, using that grip to help tug Noritsune back onto his cock.

“Just undo it already,” Noritsune huffed, amused, head tipped up slightly to lighten the strain against his scalp while still keeping his neck on display enough for Yoshitsune.

“It looks good like this, though, and I thought that was the whole point,” she argued, picking up the pace. All of him looked good, really: his back had a delicious arch to it that showcased his powerful, lithe body, the sweat coating his body casted an alluring glistening effect to his pale skin, his hole was clenched tightly on her cock, and of course, Yoshitsune’s own hand buried in in his hair, fingers tangled with hot pink strands added to the obscene sight.

It all had Yoshitsune moving faster, adjusting to angle the strap better against his clit gut tightening as the knock of leather against the sensitive nub had him drawing closer to release. He must have skimmed across Noritsune’s prostrate, too, because his husband jerked with a moan before aiming his thrusts back against that spot. Yoshitsune helped make sure both bundles of nerves were being hit dead on, hand a bruising force on Noritsune’s hip, her pelvis slapping against Noritsune’s ass. “Yoshi-Yoshitsune! Fuck, right there, keep going! Noritsune babbled. All Yoshitsune could do was obey, ramming her hips forward desperately.

A few more thrusts and Yoshitsune was there, fire licking up her spine, stars bursting behind her eyes. His hand tightened in Noritsune’s hair, unbidden, in his pleasure, nearly yanking his head back, and that seemed to be enough to set him off too, groaning and jerking his hips erratically as he rode his orgasm out, which in turn helped Yoshitsune extend hers.

At last-sated, exhausted, and thoroughly drenched in sweat-they collapsed next to each other in bed, Yoshitsune taking care to gently pull out of Noritsune. His hair tie had come undone at some point, gossamer hair fanning out freely, and Yoshitsune couldn’t help but run her fingers through it a couple of times. Noritsune allowed the indulgence before he turned around to face his wife.

Looking at Noritsune head on after only getting teasing glimpses earlier, Yoshitsune felt, weirdly, like he’d just come home from a long trip. Noritsune must have felt the same way, because he sighed at the sight of him and stared back like he was drinking him in. Later, they’d take care of the mess, put everything from the market away, and find some way to deal with the heat. But for now, all that existed was them and the space between.

[florbelles]

🍸:3

Lyra hitched up her skirts and clambered down the rocks, her feet bloody and battered. No matter. She'd no nerve endings left after ballet. (This was untrue. She had no nerve endings left after doing this. The ballet explanation was preferable.) Loose gravel slid out from under her. Fuck. Her fingers went to the the freshly-stitched wound at her side. She had, perhaps, overindulged in her pre-surgery libations.

The deputy was sitting on the bank, her back to her approach. Lyra's lips quirked as she moved towards her, softly, silently. She stood behind her, now. She cocked her head and waited. Nothing. Hmmm.

"Hi," she said.

"FUCK."

The deputy rounded on her, gun in one hand trained at Lyra's temple, a pole she had been stringing still clutched in the other, eyes blazing, even in the moonlight.

Hm. Perhaps not Lyra's finest idea.

Ah, well. She'd had worse.

"Where the FUCK did you come from?"

Lyra's mouth curved. "Are you going to shoot me?"

"I don't fuckin' know, should I?" the deputy spat. Her grip tightened. "Who are you? You're with the goddamn cult?"

Lyra lifted her shoulders, dropped them. "I have never pretended to be otherwise."

"I thought it was a fucking JOKE," the deputy said, waving her arms emphatically. The pole was going to take out someone's eye before the gun did.

Lyra reached forward instead, swaying slightly, brushed the ends of the hacked-away hair with her fingertips. "It suits you, you know?"

"Shut up." She smacked her hand away with the butt of the gun. "Do you think I give a shit what you think of my hair?"

"No." Lyra's mouth tilted upwards. The whiskey warmed her, her head pleasantly buzzing, the cool mountain air prickling against her skin. "Would you like to tell me what it is you do care about?"

"No, you fuckin —"

Lyra's eyes flickered to the pole. "Ah. You might avoid that, for the moment. Bit of a spill upstream. The baptisms, you see."

The deputy cursed, muttering. "'Course there was — unfuckinbelievable — freaks have to ruin fuckin' everything —"

"Innocents have died," Lyra said pleasantly.

"Yeah. And whose fucking fault is that?"

"Whose fault indeed."

"What are you doing here?" the deputy fumed, knuckles white in the reflecting light. "You gonna try fuckin' mind games like the other one? Because let me tell you —"

"I'm here to help you," Lyra replied, blinking back her mounting dizziness. Well. That answered the question of overindulgence.

The deputy barked out a laugh. "Help me? Didn't they teach you it's rude to fuckin' interrupt in your fancy schools?"

"I wouldn't know," Lyra told her cheerily. "They kicked me out, I'm afraid."

The deputy paused, blinked, shook whatever thought she'd had away. "If you're gonna tell me you're gonna save me —"

"I can't save you," Lyra whispered.

"Uh," the deputy said.

"I knew where to find you," Lyra murmured, voice low.

"Uh, yeah, I can see that. Are you feelin' —"

"Jestiny." (This, the deputy startled at.) "I knew where to find you."

The deputy stared at her for a moment, mouth opening, snapping shut with a click of her teeth as understanding settled in. "Oh, fuck."

She bent over to grab her tackle box, collect her haphazardly strewn possessions. Every possession she had left, Lyra thought to herself.

"Wait." Jessie's head jerked up, eyes narrowing. "Why the hell would you tell me this?"

"I want to give you a chance," Lyra replied softly. "A chance to do right."

Jestiny snorted. "Yeah, I already heard that shit from the other one, I —"

"They are my charges, deputy," she continued. "They've died. They are my family, and already I've lost too many."

"Maybe don't fuckin' burn the county down then?"

"I will not let it be for nothing."

"Right, well, I gotta fuckin' go, because we've also got a body count thanks to your fuckin' family, so —"

Lyra's hand shot out, encircling the deputy's wrist. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry that it's you. I'm sorry that I — that it wasn't me. I thought it would be. I was so afraid it was me —"

"Let me go."

"I would take it from you, if I could," she whispered. "If you would let me. I deserved this. You...I do not know what you deserve. Do you?"

"Yeah, I deserve a fuckin' break," Jestiny spat, wrenching her arm away. "If you feel so fuckin' bad, why don't you —"

But that was all it took. Lyra was already gone, drifting back into the woods, back into the thick of the smoke and blood.

"What the fuck?" she heard behind her.

Lyra grinned.

She would meet the deputy again soon.

She looked forward to it.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - The Baltimore Zoo

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett Locke

I didn't shave yesterday or this morning hoping that a bit of scruff will help Finnegan feel better.

I felt like shit the other night, honestly, although I think I handled it pretty well and we got through it.

The poor guy ended up working late again last night so I didn't seen him but I'm about to head over, pick him up and take him to the zoo.

I think he's going to love it.

It's much bigger than people usually think and they have a little train that takes you from one end of the park to the other.

Plus animals. Lots and lots of animals of every size, shape and color.

I can't think of a better place to take a little.

"Hi, Emmett."

He's grinning from ear to ear and sounds very eager.

It's adorable.

"Did you put sunscreen on?"

I texted him this morning to remind him since he got pink at Peter's but I want to be sure he remembered.

"Yep."

"And you have on comfy shoes?" I ask, looking down.

Yes, they look great... he's sort of bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Yep. Can we go?"

"Since you did such a good job of getting ready, yes, we can go. Lock up."

It doesn't take us long, just fifteen minutes up eighty three and we're pulling into the huge lot.

It's fairly busy, it is a Saturday in the summer but that doesn't bother me.

Finnegan and I will both be able to see just fine even if there are a bunch of children in front of us.

As soon as we walk in he spies the gift shop.

"On the way out. You don't want to carry stuff all day," and he agrees, then sees the prairie dogs.

"Lead the way."

I'm happy to follow him around all day.

"Oh my God, they're so cute," he exclaims, squeezing to the side to get a better view.

"I love them," I admit.

Their habitat is big and full of holes and there are constantly little heads popping up and cute little guys running to and fro.

Sometimes I feel sorry for animals in zoos, the animals often don't have enough space to satisfy me but these guys always look so happy that I can't help but smile.

Three hours later we've ridden the train, seen elephants, zebras, monkeys and so many others that I've lost count and fed the giraffes.

Finn laughed and laughed at the warthogs and oh-ed and ah-ed at the polar bears swimming next to us at the underwater window.

Now we're eating a snack.

It's not exactly anything healthy but it's a special day.

"Can we stop at the gift shop? I wanna look," he asks.

"Of course."

I follow him in, curious to see what will catch his eye.

He immediately grabs one of those pens with eight different colors of ink, then goes to the wall of plushies.

"Plushies are for babies, right?"

There's a long way from diapers to plushies.

"Nah, get one if you want."

Two teenagers at check-out are buying a huge one and I point them out.

"See?"

He decides on a reasonably sized stuffed elephant and then wanders towards the shirts.

"Maybe they have a fun one."

"I'm sure you can find one."

He throws his hand over his mouth, points up at the display too quickly for me to see what he's pointing at and then rummages through the bins underneath.

Then he holds up this...

"For you," he says gleefully.

How can I say no to that smile?

"Okay."

I'll have to be very careful about where I wear it but I can certainly wear it around the house in the evenings.

And maybe to work, Peter would probably laugh his ass off.

He decides he doesn't love any of the shirts, except mine and forces me to let him pay.

I'm not gonna cause a scene in a gift shop and since I spent most of the cash he gave me on sex toys, I'm not too bothered.

On the way home he rests his hand on my knee.

"I had a really good time, Emmett.  Thank you."

"I'm glad."

"And I'm really, really looking forward to tonight."

Actually...

"I thought we'd wait till tomorrow to go heavy, that is if you want to at all this weekend. I know you had a rough week and I'd like to spoil you rotten tonight."

He removes his hand and inhales sharply but I'm too busy driving to even glance over, this merge is awful.

"How does that sound?"

"Honestly?"

What kind of question is that?

"Always."

"I will go along with whatever you want and I know I'll enjoy myself thoroughly but I... I just hoped, it's just that... could you be nice to me tomorrow?"

So that's a yes to going heavy this weekend.

Okay.

"Are you sure? We haven't done anything since, really, except the mornings and I... uh, I don't know what I'm saying. I don't want you to think that's all I want."

"Same."

He laughs.

"I'm the one begging for it. I don't know, Emmett, I just feel like it could help me get this week out of my system, somehow. It's cathartic in a way, at least it was last time. I've been looking forward to those plugs since, what? Sunday? Definitely Monday when I started looking. Do you have them?"

"I do."

"When you said we'd do the small zoo and have time to play I just thought... sorry, I got my hopes up. We can do whatever."

He's right, I had more than implied it, I've just given it some thought since then.

"Darling."

Damn, my pants are getting tight.

I have to try to rearrange myself without hitting the gas pedal and ending up going one hundred at the risk of losing my bumper.

"I am up for whatever."

Literally.

"I just want to be with you and if that's what you need tonight, you're going to get it."

His hand reappears but this time his pinky is teasing my cock. 

"Oh, tell me again. Tell me I'm gonna get it."

"You little rascal. You're gonna get it, Finnegan. You're teasing and you're going to make it up to me. I think it's time for your second lesson, don't you?"

"Fuck yes, I mean, no? God I'm so confused," he jokes.

"So Em, yes please and thank you and no, I don't like your lessons."

Thank God we're almost home. 

One day I'm going to have to figure out how to say 'no' to that boy but apparently today is not that day.

[ahogedetective]

*yuma looks incredibly nervous as he stands in front of shuichi's door, the boy fidgeting as he clutches at the hem of his uniform! he really is trying to muster up some courage to just walk in and introduce himself, but his arm just won't move to grab the doorknob and he feels as if his voice is caught in his throat!*

("Introducing myself should be the easiest thing in the world, yet I can't even get through the doorway... Why did I let myself get talked into this? At least at the Nocturnal Detective Agency I didn't have to talk much. Now I'm stuck in some new city while the Chief acts like he's on vacation. At least I have him here with me, but still...") *he furrows his brows as he remains lost in thought, moving his arms only to cross them as he closes his eyes*

("I won't end up in a Mystery Labyrinth here, right? No... No, that definitely won't happen... Sure this place probably has its share of mysteries too, but I'm sure it's nothing like Kanai Ward... I won't need to go back into one of those things ever again, right...?") *the boy is spiraling before he suddenly gives a choked gasp, his small body suddenly jerking to the side as if something is pulling him! after a few seconds he seems to calm down a bit, although he gives an annoyed groan and proceeds to glare at the nearby wall! however, it's only when he turns back towards the door that he screams, not realizing that sometime during his little incident the door opened up!*

"I-I'm so sorry!!" *yuma is absolutely mortified as he bows deeply, the poor boy more nervous than ever as he keeps his head low* "I-it was just nerves! Yeah! I-I didn't know what to say s-so I wanted to practice a bit before our meeting! P-please disregard everything you may have witnessed!!"

("How much did he see?! How much did he hear?! He probably thinks I'm some weirdo or have a problem or something! The meeting's going to end and he's going to tell the Chief then he'll tell the others and they'll keep going until everyone knows! Wait, what if he doesn't want to train me anymore? What if I ruined this opportunity all because I didn't walk in sooner?!")

"Okay...Yuma should be arriving any second, now..." He mutters to himself as he checks the time on his phone. Today, Shuichi and Yuma will formally introduce themselves to each other. Naturally, the detective was very nervous, but while he sits and waits for the other boy, he tries to calm his nerves. He's certain Yuma will be just as nervous, if not more. The last thing he would want to do, is make that even worse if he's too nervous, himself. "All you're doing is introducing yourself to him, Shuichi...you don't have to be so nervous about that. Help Yuma feel welcomed..."

It's when he hears the faint sounds of someone behind his door (which oddly sounded like a gasps and a groan at some point), does he look towards it. "Ah-!" ("That must be Yuma...!!") Anticipating him opening that door and second, Shuichi takes a deep breath to push down and nerves that threaten to build back up. Though.... the door didn't open right away as he thought it would. ("That... is him behind my door, right? I don't believe it's locked, or anything...") Maybe his nerves got the best of him, he thought to himself... something he understands very well. And so, he decides to just open the door, himself, so he can invite him in. "Yuma: hel-" ...That's when he sees the boy... staring at the wall? "...lo? Um... I-Is everything okay...?"

Then Yuma suddenly screaming like that made a yelp leave him in turn, the baffled look on his face growing even more when he starts apologizing so profusely. "O-Oh, uh...!" He still wondered what was happening out there for Yuma to be staring at the wall like that, but the poor boy look embarrassed enough; so he'll just disregard as the other wishes, and places a hand on his shoulder to hopefully help calm him down. "I-It's okay, you're fine! Raise your head up, there's no need to apologize; I understand that very well. A-And sure, I'll pretend I did not, uh, see anything. Now please, come in: and... like I've been reminding myself; we're just introducing ourselves to each other... no need to be so nervous. So don't fret if you don't find the right words each time. They'll naturally come to you, Yuma." A smile softens on his face, as he gently beckons the boy to enter the door.

[chryblossomjjk]

distractions | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING: m/18+

⇢ WC: 1.1k

⇢ WARNINGS: cute couple content, they drop the 'l' word guys, n*pple piercings n sucking bc u know... fixation lmao, v suggestive but no actual sm*t, finger sucking lol, the love is requited :')

⇢ SUMMARY: jungkook agreed to let you do his makeup, but he can't stop getting distracted.

⇢ NOTES: ugh i missed them dearly!! will be putting out more drabbles soon, but i'm currently trying to focus on my other wip!! i haven't posted anything in so long so i wanted to share this with you guys! school n work is hectic i already feel swamped pls be patient with me :') i miss having time for a hobby lmao!! anyways, i hope you enjoy and let me know ur thoughts! love u <3 also apologize if there's any typos or weirdness, this wasn't beta'd!! if you haven't read practice yet, pls read before this!!

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

“Kook, look up! How many times do I have to tell you?” 

Four months into the relationship and his attention span, or lack thereof, never ceased to amaze you. With a frustrated groan, you place the pointy end of your Sailor Moon brush between your teeth before gripping his chin and turning his wandering gaze back to you. 

“Bambi, I’m looking up!” He yell-laughs, doe-eyes wide and sarcastic as they bear into you, equally frustrated. You can already see the concealer you applied just a few minutes ago creasing. Dramatically, he karate chops his tattooed arm towards the ceiling, paralleling your scantily clad frame straddling him. The sudden jump has you shifting against his crotch deliciously. Now’s not the time for fooling around, though. You’re determined to put the cute brush set Jungkook randomly gifted you a few weeks back to good use, starting with giving your sweet boyfriend a full beat. “This is up! What other direction is up?”

What an asshole. 

You pop the pink plastic out of your mouth, taking an annoyed chomp out of his annoying fingers. It's playful, of course. You mean, you’ve just got done with a whitening strip, after all…

Jungkook takes the opportunity to shove his digits further past your glossy lips, reaching down just enough to feel your throat constrict, then pulling back. He stares up at you with the cheesiest fucking grin, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re mean,” you cough, wiping the drool at the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“No you,” he counters, pinching your cheek patronizingly. “I love you, though.”

One month into the lovey-dovey phase of the relationship; that one where the initial butterflies fly away and you’re left feeling like ‘wow, maybe this is a forever sort of thing,’ and you still feel lightheaded every time Jungkook murmurs those three words.

“I love you, too,” you coo, reaching down to adjust his teddy-bear headband. Jungkook’s been growing his hair out. This was his last semester and he was determined to go out with a bang. For whatever reason, he had decided that bang was a mullet. You remember how confused you were when he showed up at your dorm at 3am, drunk off Fireball and excitement, asking you to cut his hair. You thought the request was outlandish and foolish, but you did it anyway, in your bathroom with eyebrow scissors. It came out a teeny bit crooked, and a tiny bit choppy, but Jungkook loved it, staring at his reflection with a big bunny smile and starry eyes. “But baby, this-” you tap on the headboard behind him, “-is up.”

He squints his eyes in defiance before complying. Ah, you’ve trained him well. A very good boy, indeed.

You’ve spoken, or thought, too soon, because after a few swipes of the plush bristles, a high-pitched ‘Appa!’ from your phone, leaning against your Kuromi makeup bag on the nightstand beside you, draws his dark pupils back to the cartoon. 

“That’s it,” you huff like an overwhelmed mother of three, yanking the device out of his sight. “Say goodbye to Aang. You’ve lost your Avatar: The Last Airbender privileges.” 

“C’mon, seriously?” He laughs while lunging forward, attempting to wrestle the phone out of your grasp. Giggling wildly, you toss it on the pink shag rug below you, out of his reach. The movement almost sends you toppling over. Luckily, Jungkook wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Bambi, you know I’m easily distracted.”

“But you said I could do your makeup,” you pout, batting your lashes at him.

“I know, I-”

“Don’t touch!” You shriek, preventing him from rubbing his eye.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes through a chuckle, holding his hands by his head in defense. “Maybe I…” You deadpan him as his eyes scan around the room before, not so subtly, landing on your chest. Cocking his head, he tuts his tongue and grips the hem of your shirt. Shamelessly, he stuffs the nearly transparent material into your mouth, exposing your bare breasts. “There, just like that,” he whispers, warm palms grazing up your torso to cup them, thumbs grazing over your little diamond heart jewelry. You gasp at the touch. “You know, I still can’t believe you actually got ‘em’.” Neither could you, honestly, but if there was one thing Jungkook has taught you, it’s that sometimes, you need to step out of your comfort zone. Take risks. Especially when it results in the cutest little nipple piercings. “So fucking sexy…”

You feel his forming bulge poking against you. God, do you want him. But even Jungkook’s dick couldn’t derail you from the mission at hand. Raising an eyebrow, you lift up the makeup brush.

The tits really seem to keep him preoccupied. With a hand on his cheek, you feel his mouth hollowing, sucking your nipple gingerly as you lean over him and fill in his thick brows. Obviously, it’s a bit hard to focus. Every now and then, you have to tug his hair to redirect his nibbles back down to soft licks. 

“Okay,” you announce, letting the shirt fall from your candy-coated lips and sitting up, “what color?”

Out of the entire thirty-pan rainbow eyeshadow palette you’re holding up for him, he lazily points to the darkest shade in the top color. His favorite color, of course; black. You should’ve known. Your lips scrunch to the side in contemplation. Jungkook would look so yummy with a smokey eye.

So you blend and blend away with blacks, whites, and grays. Shockingly, your boyfriend manages to stay still throughout the entire process. You’re proud of him, really. He’ll definitely get rewarded afterward. And you were right, the final product is absolutely delectable. 

“Baby, your eyelashes are stunning!” You swoon. “And the smokey-eye looks so so so good with your eye shape.”

Silence.

“Jungkook?” You lean forward, gripping his shoulders and shaking softly. Nothing but the sound of faint snores reaches your ears. The little fuck fell asleep. No wonder why he’s been so good. You laugh in disbelief, picking your phone off the floor and snapping a few pictures to show him in the morning. Reaching into your drawer, you take out a couple makeup wipes and start cleaning him up. You loathe makeup wipes and only keep them for emergencies, but Jungkook looks so peaceful that you can’t bring yourself to wake him.

Next, you snuggle beside him with a spare blanket, unable to yank your comforter out from under his thick, muscular thighs. He stirs when you gently pull off his headband. “I love you…” he mumbles, still half asleep. It’s as if the emotion is so ingrained in his subconscious that they bubble to the surface, even when he’s sleepy and incoherent. 

And you feel the same exact way. 

“I love you, Jungkook. Goodnight.”

© chryblossomjjk 2023 [do not copy, translate or repost]

[miekasa]

slow hands

+ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

+ genre and warnings: fluff, some angst? but hardly, levi is the sweetest, please do not mistake his quiet affections for apathy or lovelessness

+ word count: 3k

+ summary: based off of a request about physical affection and acts of service being levi’s love languages—which i agree! i’m so happy you asking about that, i could write essays about how physical touch is important to levi, but instead, i will leave you with this for now lol

i. in crowded spaces (so you don’t get lost, or so he claims)

Levi isn’t particularly fond of the way you like to go shopping in the inner walls. He is, however, fond of you; so he forgoes the prissy upper-class men and overall stingy aura of Wall Sina’s inhabitants just so you can get your favorite kind of bread and fruit.

Today, it seems like everyone and their mother wanted to visit the outdoor markets, despite the scheming merchants and obviously overpriced merchandise. From the crowd to the noise level, none of it is really up Levi’s alley; but he has to admit, watching people fail to successful haggle the price of eggs is immensely amusing to him.

What isn’t amusing is the way you keep stopping in the middle of the square, distracted by anything remotely shiny or with a pleasant smell you come across. Levi stops in his tracks, sensing a lack of your presence behind him; he turns around, and sure enough, you’re standing a few meters away, squinting at the price written above the basket of apples in front of you.

He sighs, trudging back to you, and watching from a step away as you scan over the fruit scrutinizingly. The merchant behind the stand does his best at selling you his product, boasting about how the fruit is fresh and hand-picked, and some other bullshit.

“These look good,” you muse to yourself, picking up a single, red apple in your palm for closer observation, “I could make a pie for the kids later.”

“Ah, pretty and she cooks, what a woman,” the bearded merchant smiles, adjusting his hat as he looks at you.

He only seems to notice Levi’s presence when he pushes forward just a little bit, looking at the apples, bored, then to the man, who speaks to him next, “Can I interest you in a basket, too, sir?”

Levi doesn’t respond with anything but a slight shake of his head, before looking back to you. You’re standing upright now, having placed your sample apple back with the rest, unfazed by Levi standing next to you; like you were completely unaware you’d left him in the first place.

He holds back a scoff. You can be so unaware of your surroundings at times, he honestly thinks it’s a miracle that you make it back from your missions alive. You’re also seemingly unaware of just how many inner wall pigs flirt with you, as you look completely oblivious to the advances of the merchant, who offers you two baskets for the price of one—the only caveat being that you allow him to take you on a date later that evening.

Levi lolls his head to the side, tired eyes gazing at the old man who tries to cut himself a bargain. He knows you’re prepared to give an overly polite and nonchalant response to wave the man off, but Levi doesn’t have time for your pleasantries today. 

Quietly, he reaches for your free hand, lacing your fingers together firmly before pulling you away from the merchant and the stand.

“Levi!” you call for him, borderline whining, “I wasn’t actually going to agree to a date with him, but the apples—”

“There’s a stand a few streets over that Hange claims is better than anything she’s ever eaten,” Levi grumbles, questioning under his breath about where the hell the piece of shit men in the interior get their audacity from, “And you don’t need two baskets. One is enough.”

Levi doesn’t turn your way, so he misses the fond look in your eyes and the small curve to your lips. He does, however, feel the way you wrap your other arm around his, leaning into him gently as to not disturb your stride as you keep walking.

“But I want to have enough to make a pie for the kids, later,” you tell him, slowly rubbing your thumb against the fabric of his blazer.

Levi scoffs audibly this time. “You don’t have to make shit for them.”

“I don’t have to do shit for anyone,” you smile, “But they’re just kids, Levi. Besides, I know you like pie, too, you big baby.”

Levi doesn’t say anything at that, only choosing to flash you an unamused scowl, before pulling you down a smaller, less crowded street.

“Let’s just get the fucking apples and go home,” he says, decidedly, passing by a group of MPs sharing a flask, “I don’t know how much longer I can stay in the interior without snapping some pig’s head off.”

ii. during long meetings

Levi thinks that if Erwin weren’t Commander, he could probably make a living as a pastor with the way he preaches for hours on end.

It’s going on hour two of this long, drawn-out strategy meeting, and Levi knows that he’s not the only one about to lose his fucking marbles. Albeit, he’s much more composed than some other people around the table; he still wants to retire to his office for the evening. Even the mountain of paperwork waiting for him would be more entertaining than this.

Levi listens, admittedly a little more carefully, when you speak up, offering information about the layouts of a small town destroyed on your last expedition, where you’d lost a member of your own squad. Erwin nods, looking back down at his map to take your words into consideration.

Levi looks to his right where you’re seated, notices the guilt flash in your eyes as you think about your last failed expedition. It wasn’t your fault, and you know that; but he knows, more than anyone, how difficult it can be to lose one of your own soldiers.

Quietly, he lifts his teacup with his right hand, and places it down in front of you. He says nothing beyond an almost unnoticeable nod towards the cup once it’s within your reach, before looking back towards Erwin and Armin.

If anyone else seemed to notice his gesture, they don’t make it known. Except for Hange, of course, who flashes him a knowing grin before resuming her conversation.

Levi knows you’ve finished the tea when he feels your hand resting lightly atop his knee, tapping your index and middle fingers against his pants—a silent thank you. In the middle of his own conversation, he doesn’t turn to you or say much other than slipping his right hand on top of yours, loosely curling his fingers between the slits of yours.

His hand stays there for the rest of the meeting, his thumb rubbing slow, unidentifiable patterns into the skin on the back of your hand; an empty teacup, and a mutual gratitude between the two of you.

iii. when you’re working too hard (or for too long)

If not the gigantic humanoid monsters out to swallow you whole, the paperwork is probably the worst part about being a captain in the Survey Corps. Levi would know, having spent countless nights up reading proposals, approving plans, signing documents, filling out death certificates.

It can be grueling work, even if it is, essentially, reading and writing whilst being sat at a desk. And while, sometimes, he can admit that the paperwork is more bearable than his own nightmares; he knows that for you, it holds no such solace.

If anyone thought that Levi worked himself to the bone, they must not have met you. Your meticulous mannerisms and work ethic could almost make him seem sloppy by comparison. It’s not uncommon to find you training yourself or your cadets into the ground, theorizing with Hange and Erwin, or—Levi’s personal least favorite—hunched over your desk, eyes scanning away at stacks of ink-ridden papers.

You must be five or six hours in by now, if he’s calculated correctly. The last time he saw you was around midday, when he’d been watching you spar with Jean. It’s dark out now, the other cadets and soldiers having retired to their rooms for the evening after dinner. 

“You’ll end up a hunchback if you keep this up,” he drawls upon entering your office. He watches as your head snaps up to him; he figured you hadn’t even heard him enter, seeing as you didn’t respond to his knocking. He wonders how it’s possible for you to be so aloof, yet so scrupulous all at once.

Embarrassed, more likely at your lack of awareness than his comment, you push yourself up a little bit, elbows on your desk and fingers crossed. “You’re not exactly one to talk, you know.”

Levi only hums at your jab, inching towards your desk. He likes the way your eyes track his movements as his proximity to you increases, stepping around your desk to stand behind your chair. 

“Sit up,” he orders, voice soft yet firm.

He waits for you to straighten your back, but frowns when you scoot your chair closer to your desk after doing so. He takes it upon himself to move your chair back, ignoring the terrible squeaking of the wood scraping across the floor. Well, at least that was an indication that the floors were clean.

“I can’t write if I’m this far from my desk,” you complain, just as the palms of Levi’s hands make contact with your shoulders.

“Good thing I’m not asking you to write anything,” Levi replies, digging the heels of his hands into your shoulder muscles. This would work better with your shirt off, he muses to himself, but this would have to do.

You open your mouth to protest, but your words fall short on your tongue, an exhale of relief coming out instead as Levi continues to massage your shoulders. Levi can feel you melting into his actions, your body going slack and the knots in your muscles uncoiling themselves. He counts about five minutes in passing before he hears your breath calm, too; the shallow exhales of your overworked body replaced with deep inhalations and extended sighs.

He lightens his movements as his massage comes to and end. The palm of his left hand runs across your throat gently, allowing him to tuck his thumb and index finger under your chin, and tilt your head backwards for you to face him. Levi’s thumb pads against your jaw line as you look up at him, and him back at you. 

Finally, he leans down, his lips making contact with your forehead for a gentle kiss, “You work too hard.”

“I learned from the best,” and just as gently, you reach your arm up and backwards, your palm clumsily finding its way to Levi’s hair, pulling him down, towards your lips this time, “You take such good care of me.”

“Obviously,” Levi mumbles, stealing another kiss between his words, “That’s my job, brat.”

iv. during dinner time

The Mess Hall is among Levi’s least favorite places, for obvious reasons; but he does enjoy sharing a meal with you, and ensuring that you’ve eaten a full serving to sustain yourself.

He can look past Hange and Nanaba’s overly enthusiastic conversations, despite sitting directly across each other, Erwin’s sloppy eating habits, and the overall rowdy atmosphere of the Mess Hall, as long as he has you beside him to numb the pain. Which is why he’s been exceptionally grumpy these past two weeks, as you’ve taken to sitting with some of the younger cadets during dinner time. 

It’s not unusual and it doesn’t surprise him, or anyone really; everyone can see how much they all adore you. Especially Mikasa, strangely enough. Probably because of the way you treat Eren, and how much he and Armin look up to you; and probably because she was your first pick to fill a vacancy in your squad. 

He walks with you across the floor, the both of you holding your own tray of food—a watery soup, some bread, and a piece of fruit as a treat. He knows you won’t finish your soup, and that he’ll have to give you half of his bread to make up for it; but he also knows you’ll slice up your apple for him to eat in exchange.

So Levi is not too happy when he sees Eren waving your way, the clumsy idiot almost hitting Armin in the head from the uncoordinated shaking of his hand. You smile at the younger boy, turning your body to walk towards his table.

Levi, however, stops your stride before it can begin, pulling tactfully at the back of your shirt, and forcing you to turn back around. He pokes at the nape of your neck, gently pushing you forwards, and in the direction of the table where Erwin, Hange, Mike and Moblit are seated.

You seem to get his silent message, flashing Levi a sweet smile before turning to offer Eren a sorry glance as you continue to head in the direction of the table with your colleagues. Levi hums when you start walking again, following closely behind you, and turning back to offer Eren a not-so-sorry, not-so-friendly glare.

Levi was getting his apple sliced for him today, whether the brats liked it or not.

“You know, you should sit with them sometime,” you tell him, breaking his small loaf in half to dip it into your soup, “They admire you a lot.”

“I think they’d shit their pants if shorty even came near their table,” Hange jokes, earning chuckles from some of your colleagues.

Levi says nothing and refrains from rolling his eyes. He could care less about the admiration they hold for him, or for you. If Eren and Amin wanted to spend time with you that badly, then they should train their asses off and make it onto your squad.

“Oi,” you call to him, mocking his voice and tone, “Here, they gave us yellow ones today, I know they’re your favorite.”

Levi shoves you with his elbow affectionately, before taking the slice of apple from your hold. He chews gratefully, heart beating against his chest in admiration as you carefully place the rest of the slices on his tray.

He squeezes your thigh in thanks under the table once you’ve finished slicing both apples for him. Sure, he could do it himself, and sure he could technically see you in your room whenever he wants, but that’s not the point; Levi will be damned if he catches any of those other brats with his apple slices.

v. when you come home

It’s not often that Levi becomes overly worried about your well-being, as backwards and apathetic as it may seem to other people. He trusts you, and knows that you’re stronger than you look—stronger than him, even—and he has no reason to doubt you; you’ve always come back to him.

But now, it’s going on eleven days since your squad was supposed to return from specially designed and assigned mission from Erwin himself, and Levi was beginning to let his nerves get the best of him.

He knows he’s not the only one getting antsy for some kind of message—any kind of sign at all—that you and your men were okay. Two days ago, Hange had pestered Erwin for the greater part of an hour about sending just one more tracking squad to look for yours; Mikasa and Armin hovered around for any news that you had returned, and that you’d brought Eren back unharmed; hell, even Mike had come to check in with him, rocking on his feet, asking Levi if there had been any news from you.

It’s dark out now, the day coming to a close, marking the twelfth night since your estimated return date. Levi sighs, untucking himself from his desk, intent on marching down to Erwin’s office and demanding he let him go look for you.

“You know we have to give it fourteen days, at least,” Erwin sighs.

“That’s a bullshit rule and you know it,” Hange interjects, having burst into the room only seconds after Levi; hung up on your lack of return just as much as he was.

Of course she is—you’re Hange’s closest friend. Not to mention, you’d taken Moblit with you on your mission, setting Hange’s work back significantly without the presence of her valuable second.

“I know,” Erwin nods, “But the first tracking squad found no evidence of any bodies. They’re most likely alive.”

“All of them?” Hange questions, incredulous and hopeful.

“That’s what we hope for,” Erwin responds, voice heavy. He looks to Levi, “She’ll come back. She always does.”

Levi knows that; he knows. But he still can’t shake this feeling. He opens his mouth to refute, when Sasha comes bumbling into Erwin’s office, heaving.

“Commander Erwin, Captain (Y/N)’s squad has just returned!” Sasha squeaks, “No casualties, four in the infirmary now with minor wounds, but nobody’s in critical condition, sir.”

Levi can barely register the young girl’s words, before he’s storming towards the infirmary, desperately searching for your familiar face amongst the soldiers in the cots. He sees Moblit amongst some of your other men and hastily asks him about your whereabouts.

“She had Eren,” Moblit tells him calmly, wincing slightly as a nurse rubs alcohol into the cut along his arm, “I thought she’d take him here—maybe in one of the smaller rooms across the hall?”

Levi nods, grateful, and moves so that Hange can squish Moblit with her affections, heading towards the hallway. He sees just a sliver of light coming from a room two doors down, and he doesn’t hesitate to search for you there.

He all but bursts through the door, relieved to find you tying and cutting a bandage around Eren’s forehead. Levi wants to scold you for taking care of someone else wounds before attending to your own, but he doesn’t have time for that right now.

You stand up straight after you’re finished wrapping Eren’s larger cuts, with barely enough time to register that Levi’s entered the room before he has one hand around your waist, and the other cradling the back of your head.

Levi can feel that he’s knocked the wind out of you, but that doesn’t stop you from slowly wrapping your arms around him to complete the hug. He tucks his head into the juncture of your neck, ignoring the faint scrapes along your skin.

“You’re back,” he hums, holding you a little tighter against him.

Levi feels your laughter reverberate through his own body, as you mirror his hold on you; your right hand coming up to cradle the back of his head, your fingers loosely coiling into his hair.

“Of course I am,” you hum, reveling in Levi’s shallow breaths that tickle your neck, “I’ll always come back to you, Levi.”

[theomnicode]

Hi! Your works and meta blows me away everytime, i'll always read, you're amazing✨

And I've been wanting to ask, what are your thoughts on Saitama literally being a romantic? (I read this one on Power4Impact's blog, very awesome lol)

Also, I feel like both of them, Genos and Saitama, have the need of touch? Touch-starved would be the word. I'll be so happy the day they finally get to have so lovely contact with another person, without this being harmful, just pure love. Even better if is between them <3

Thank you for the kind words, I try my best to make my meta thoughts compelling to read. :D

About Saitama being a romantic...there's a fair bit of references to this, one of them being found in the audiobooks where he ponders about his relationships with people being broken and he seems jealous even about other people having having happy things like romances and social interactions in their daily lives and when he became a hero, something broke in him. He ponders if he should have this issue more in mind and he sounds so far away when Genos mentions fighting for things that he must protect. Like he has forgotten the very reason why he became a hero.

Such as protecting family, friends and the heroine in the movie they watched.

Saitama: Well... It's a movie. In any case, precisely because he had someone to protect the protagonist didn't give up and tried harder until the end, right? That's where the excitement is after all. Genos: I see... but, if he was in real trouble the enemy could have seen that objecti- Saitama: That's the point of the story! It happens in real life too right?

Genos: I see... I'm writing it down! This means... Sensei had this kind of incident in the past, right? Saitama: Eh? Genos: Fighting for something that you must protect. Saitama: ahhh.... um. Genos: What is the matter? Saitama: Ah? Ah, nothing. Bells ring nearby Genos: Ah! Sensei! Fukin Supermarket is having a time sale! I'm going to check if they have anything we need, I will be back shortly so please wait here! Saitama: Ah? Ok... Saitama: Now that I think about it... I have the sensation I never had that happening. Could say I never paid it any mind either. It's not like I don't especially like it, not a complex either. However, is it really ok? No... can't be ok. Can't help but think it's something I lost In the daily battles towards becoming a hero. Am I supposed to have this issue more in mind? Come to think of it, I didn't really have time to unpack it... if it was a normal guy then...

Saitama: Ummmm... What is this feeling? Am I envious of that guy for living his youth? Mn nah I don't think that's it but, I don't know. It's just that I have the feeling my relationships with people are broken...”

Saitama: That’s not the point... I have the feeling that things like a heart to heart interaction, sharing an umbrella, warmth, are all things broken away in my life. Other people can have things like big events and circumstances happening, romances and such bringing happiness in their daily lives. I have the feeling something broke and that sweet-like fluffy, nice stuff just fell right off from me. That's what I meant.

Saitama: Genos, look, have you ever seen a hero anime without a love interest in it? Genos: I don't remember watching a lot of anime in the past.. Why do you ask? Saitama: Well, we're heroes, right? We're working and living as such. And yet, why are we indifferent towards things like love interests or girlfriends? In some way it seems obvious and logical, but is it really ok? Are you ok with reality being so much harder than fiction?

Saitama is absolutely a hopeless romantic at heart, but when he trained to become a hero, he became apathetic and started to lose his humanity. It is something he still desires though.

But as Genos surmises, such actions can be used by the enemy when they see this is the objective of the protagonist.

Weakness of the heart because he craves for that social interconnectivity. Something that was already used against Garou.

And every action by Saitama on the moon when he protected Genos' core was witnessed by OPM God.

Don't be surprised if this will be used against Saitama.

Anyways, second instance of Saitama showing interest in romance is his decently sized manga collection.

Saitama has a bunch of manga on his shelf and we cannot obviously decipher what they may contain from the covers alone. I can infer that some covers look kind of pretty though and pastel colours. Girly covers on the right side of the shelf basically, with only seemingly ladies in the spine art. But nothing conclusive really.

Except we know one manga that Genos picks up in OVA 3 season 2 when he has amnesia and then attempts to woo Fubuki.

This is the kind of stuff Saitama reads on his free time and when he's bored lol.

Shoujo romance manga. xd

Also manga about farting too. That- that as well.

I blame King.

(And King possibly offering romantic advice because he has been playing dating sims too much if Saitama was to ever ask...yaah idk about that one)

However...we may run into an issue with Saitama and romance.

The back cover of the manga and the underlying text.

"I forgot the ease that I tried to remember"

And the thought bubble spelling "Adjacent Fear 5".

It may be reference to Marianne Morris art Fear Adjacent.

This abstract landscape was inspired by a trek over the Coaticoke Gorge. 50m above the riverbead, the longest suspension bridge in Canada was a highlight on a trip through Quebec. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. 

Not unlike romance in general. It can be both exhilarating and terrifying prospect at the same time.

Another reference is in the manga page itself, Bad boys Saga, can refer to multiple things. Such as the archetype of bad boy.

The stereotypical "bad boy" was described by Kristina Grish in her book Addickted as "the irresistible rogue who has the dizzying ability to drive women wild" with a "laissez-faire attitude about life and love". An article in The Independent compared the term "bad boys" with men who had a particular combination of personality traits, sometimes referred to as a "dark triad" of Machiavellian traits, and reported that a study found that such men were likely to have a greater number of sexual affairs.

It is not the kind of interaction Saitama wants for with romance. Not like Suiryu, being playboy. But it may be a reference to underlying fear about romance in general.

It may also be a reference to Bad boys films from 1983 or the Bad boys franchise.

In an attempt to retaliate on Mick's behalf, Horowitz creates a bomb by planting fertilizer in a radio that he places in Paco and Viking's cell. When the charge explodes prematurely and only injures Viking, Horowitz is condemned to solitary confinement, a fate he fears more than any other.

Phobia from solitary confinement is another type of fear that can go hand in hand with fear of falling in love.

And one last reference, fear of romance in itself. Fear of falling in love.

Philophobia (from Greek "φιλέω-φιλώ" (love) and "φοβία" (phobia)) is the fear of falling in love. Not included in the DSM-5. The risk is usually when a person has confronted any emotional turmoil relating to love but also can be a chronic phobia.[citation needed] This affects the quality of life and pushes a person away from commitment. A negative aspect of this fear of being in love or falling in love is that it keeps a person in solitude. It can also evolve out of religious and cultural beliefs that prohibit love.[citation needed] It represents certain guilt and frustration towards the reaction coming from inside.

DSM-5 is Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition. Just like Fear Adjacent is 5th volume.

A phobia is an anxiety disorder defined by a persistent and excessive fear of an object or situation.[1] Phobias typically result in a rapid onset of fear and are usually present for more than six months.

6 months? What a coincidence. I don't believe in coincidences.

The prophecy that Lady Shibabawa mentioned meant that 6 months from then on, Earth would be in danger. A subconscious fear, like the back cover of the book and something he cannot remember.

A subconscious fear that rose back to the surface when he saw Genos' mutilated form lying on the ground after the fight with Sea King. Because he had started to care about his disciple and seeing him like that had far more effect on Saitama than he even realizes.

That or an onset of said fear that can develop into a phobia. Or that it will.

Also paralleling the passionate soul that Boros seer saw 20 years ago in their crystal ball.

So in terms of romance, Saitama may run into issues, that he fears committing to it because he's possibly had a bad experience in the past with any type of love that he has since forgotten and which may have since become a phobia. Notably about losing said love.

More than likely, he fears the solitude that falling in love may cause him if he ever lost the person he loves, like when Genos died on him. Unhealthily coping by trying to attach himself to the last vestige of Genos and his heart.

He may also fear someone pulling the Bad boy act on him and fear people with these traits. Such a person may have been the cause of this underlying fear or perhaps him acting like a bad boy may have been one of the causes of this phobia.

There may also be underlying guilt and frustration.

Often, people can trace their fear or phobia to traumatic childhood experiences. Philophobia may be a protective response. If you don’t allow yourself to develop loving feelings for someone, you lower your risk of heartache and pain.

It would definitely explain why Saitama seems to be showing no romantic inclination towards someone like Genos, who is not shy about telling Saitama that he's amazing person and holds everything about Saitama in high regard. Despite having an actual desire and want for romance, intimacy and heart to heart feelings.

And not showing any commitment, despite apparently caring for Genos to an unhealthy degree when shit hit the fan and he lost him, to the point that these emotions burst out in uncontrollable rage and bust out a hole in space. Just avoiding the issue altogether.

He has forgotten the ease of romance that he tries to remember.

It has probably only gotten worse when Genos died when Garou ripped his core out and killed him, though he does not consciously remember it. The subconscious however, does. The subconscious remembers all the phobias and fears he may have.

All expressed here in a very neat package.

"Ge-Genos!! You scared the crap out outta me! You're actually alive!!"

(It's absolutely hilarious to me that Saitama's hero suit is conveying his feelings here by shredding his crotch zone, since his hero suit responds to his desires and feelings as Phoenixman mentioned they do for costumers and it's essentially showing his libido and going like "bro stop doing this to yourself, get some help. Allow me to assist you. Just DO IT!" Saitama's hero suit is bff.)

When you think about it, he does have a pretty excessive reaction to seeing the core on his hand, because he would not have any rational reason to think that Genos is anything but limbless torso but still alive and intact otherwise. At least as much as he consciously remembers.

He might've gotten scared a bit and sought for the cause to verify if it's true or not because having Genos core on his hand randomly is just weird, but not a reaction like this. That face reminds me of the time when Saitama got out of bed during Hammerhead saga and he looked excessively scared then too.

Every single time Genos gets brought to the brink, the fear from phobia gets more foothold. And so do the reactions from Saitama grow worse.

ONE is very careful to not allow Saitama to see that Genos can actually take care of himself or allow Saitama to protect Genos in situations where Genos gets grievously demolished. Otherwise his fear for Genos safety would lessen considerably. Instead it is much like he's being conditioned into having significant distress whenever Genos ends up destroyed or worse and that there is no way he can actually protect Genos from harm.

Apparently utter disaster romance is also up ONE's writing alley, if the newest trailer for Mob psycho season 3 is to be believed.

Complete catastrophe is looming, it has been prophesied.

(Though prophesies are also a load of hogwash according to Saitama, so it may be Saitama saying it won't happen because there is always a choice)

Though...Genos did pick up the book, so it is very probable that Genos too, has fear of falling in love. Because he fears losing those connections, so as much as he seems to show that he cares a lot, he does not commit completely and tell anybody and keeps other people at arms lenght. At least he has not, so far.

It will be a happy day indeed when these two can actually get some well deserved hugs. Because both have already made their choices to stick by the other. Though it may be a long while yet.

When they face their fears, that is when the rain stops.

[2cmtall]

Diluc x y/n bartending scen.

Context: this is a spew of writing (bullet and normal) centered around the theme of bartending with Diluc. The inspiration for this was from the bartending training event a long while back, and also various pinterest pics I saw with aether & diluc in the tavern. Content is very romantic, some sweet others more steamy.

A/N: school started for me about three weeks back at the start of September and I may have lost a bit of motivation to write 😅. I started this concept a while before school started but I only took it back up when my friend and I were talking about things fandom/fanfic related. Thank you for those who have liked my few posts and have even started following me. 🤗

CW: the content is broken up into different parts (such as before, during, and after the training. Some aftermaths, etc). I just spewed whatever was on my mind. There is both bullet points and drabbles (normal writing) for different parts. At one of the parts near the end there is a slightly suggestive (nsfwish) take involving heated kisses, wall pinning, etc, but nothing beyond that.👍)

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Before the training:

Although mondstadt's weather is almost always nice and breezy, you felt that today was especially bright and cheerful, and your mood reflected that. To truly appreciate this blessing from the anemo archon, you decided to go on a walk and perhaps get a drink at the tavern. Whether or not you drank at all was not an issue, for the owner himself, diluc, allowed you the privilege of asking for custom drinks on the house! You always thought that it was awfully kind of him to do so, maybe even excessively so, but when you tried to voice your humble concerns to Diluc, he simply reassured you and even offered a new drink for you to test out with him. Even kaeya voiced his thoughts, albeit out of jealousy, but the nature of their relationship only resulted in the souring of the red-head's mood.

Because of your past failings to compensate the ever generous owner and your current boost of positivity, you were now motivated to pay for your drinks. It's the least you could do for his kindness. And so, you got ready with a new outfit you were excited to try on. It was more put together and it fit with the summer mood. You remembered to bring your wallet, putting it in your pocket/bag/etc and out the door you went.

You greeted people along the streets and even made meaningful conversations, especially with flora. Recently, you've been interested in mondstadt's flowers and was gaining knowledge and tips from the young but talented girl. You enjoyed bonding with flora and was grateful for her advice, but you couldn't help but notice Donna's eyes on you when your conversation diverted towards your plans to go to the tavern. Whatever the case was, you wouldn't let Donna of all people sully your mood. You said goodbye to sweet flora and continued your walk towards Angel's share, ever aware of Donna's piercing glare burning a hole through your back.

You walked past the different stalls, up the small flights of stairs and neared the tavern where you noticed a man trying to garner attention. Just as you noticed the man, the same can be said for him as his eyes lit up at you and he made a beeline towards you.

"Why hello, miss! By any chance, are you wanting to enjoy a fine drink at the tavern today?" Although you don't normally like to be approached by strangers, you can tell that this fellow had no ill intention. You gave him a small smile and replied, "yeah, I do," before attempting to move towards the door, but what he said next piqued your interest.

"A-Ah, miss! If that's the case, would you be interested in attending Angel's Share's academy week?" You've never heard of this before. "Academy week? What for?"

"Well, I'm sure you've noticed that besides Charles and occasionally Master Diluc, there isn't anyone else behind the counter." You have noticed that, "but why is that, if I may ask?"

"Haha, although there are a lot of wine enjoyers, there aren't many people willing to mix the drinks. That is why we are holding an academy week! This event will give you an opportunity to learn a new skill and hopefully stay to help out Charles at the tavern. Oh! And better yet, you will be trained under the guidance of Master diluc himself! How does that sound? Are you interested?"

You contemplated for a bit, though the decision was fairly easy. Although you don't know how to mix drinks and never thought to learn the skill, the opportunities presented to you only gave positives. Not only will you be able to learn a new skill, train under Diluc, and help him and Charles in tending the bar, you will also be able to get a new job and spend more time with Diluc! You were excited by the endless possibilities. Adorning a smile brighter than the sun, you agreed to participate, to which the man, who you now know as Luka, practically jumps in joy. You couldn't blame him, though, not when you're own nerves are tingling with excitement, but also nervousness.

You waved each other goodbye as you entered the tavern, excited to tell diluc the news.

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On the contrary, Diluc felt nothing special today. It's not that he didn't note the particularly bright day. But rather it changed nothing in his repetitive routine. No matter how bright the day is, he still has duties to attend to, though. . . After putting up signs and letters about the Academy week around Mondstadt and in the tavern, he's been hoping for a certain someone to participate. For a calculating man such as himself, he felt rather unsure if this person even cares for this particular profession. . .

'Stop worrying about this and focus on doing your next task.' He grimaced as he shook himself of his uncertainty. He gazed outside and back to his schedule on his desk. Today he decided to bar tend in place of Charles, so he quickly put on his dark coat and raced down the stares, making sure to alert Adelinde of his whereabouts before closing the front door.

In the tavern, everything is how it usually is. Loud with bustling drunkards, including a certain cavalry captain and an odd bard, both of which irritate him to no end. He truly was not expecting anything new to happen today, least something positive, but as always you prove him wrong.

"Diluc! Guess what?!" You barged right into the tavern, not caring for some people's unhappy stares at you, evident of your proud smile. You scurried toward him and stood directly opposite, practically leaning over the counter. "I decided to participate in the Academy week! I'm excited to learn how to mix drinks and hopefully have a place in this profession. You will be teaching us, right Diluc?" Your innocent, childlike eyes gazed expectantly at Diluc. Unbeknownst to you, while on the outside he appears as calm as ever, on the inside he is a blushing mess, so much so that he could feel his whole body growing warmer.

In an instant, you have put a stop in his mundane cycle and gave him something to look forward to. For the life of him, he can't remember the last time he felt such joy, but why was it that his body is growing uncomfortably hot and his heart is pounding? He needed to stay composed, lest he wanted to make a fool of himself, noticing the snarky look on his brother's face from the corner of his eyes.

"I'm glad to hear you have taken an interest in this profession. And yes, I will be the one to guide you throughout the week, though Charles will also be available for when I'm not."

"Great! When does it start again?" You tilted your head in such a way, Diluc couldn't help but give a small smile at seeing your cute face.

"It starts tomorrow in the morning, so see you then y/n. I'm looking forward to seeing what progress you will make. And be safe on your way home."

"Thanks diluc, I will!" And with that you waved him goodbye, adorning such a bright smile on your way out. He couldn't blame you though, for his heart felt the same way.

*cue Kaeya's and venti's teasing *they get kicked out

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During the training:

♤ Both of you had trouble sleeping that night, your minds a nervous wreck wondering how tomorrow will go.

♡ Diluc being the type to subtly hint at things would wear his hair high, remembering you mentioning he would look good in this hairstyle. He would wear something similar to his KFC collab outfit, exposing his lower arms in the way he knows girls like. (You most certainly noticed). Whatever you decide to wear that day, just know that Diluc's heart will start beating much quicker. Maybe he will even compliment you on your outfit.

◇ Diluc loves how dedicated you are in learning the craft, making him respect you even more. He finds himself smiling next to you when he sees you using a small spare crate to make yourself higher, or furrowing your brows in concentration as you try to replicate and even put your own spin to the drinks. It reminds him of when he was younger, lost in the art of mixing drinks.

♧ When your hands accidently touch, it's like sparks igniting in your hearts. You both blush, wondering if the other person noticed or is feeling the same things as they do. You both secretly revel the chance to graze each other or be close with them. Each touch sends a tingling warm sensation on your skin. Your smile brightens when you make the other person happy. The lesson continued with these innocent acts of flirting. Simple and sweet.

♤ Oh, the lesson has already ended? Well it doesn't hurt to have drinks for yourselves, perfect opportunity to tell you about his drink preferences and in turn learn about yours. Perhaps to surprise you next time with his own take on your favourite flavors.

♡ Oh, but it's getting late and you need to go back home, well how about he walk you back home as condolences for making you stay longer. Hes a gentleman after all, and since he is so kind he will offer you his coat and umbrella, noticing that it started raining. The walk home was filled with silence, except for the pouring of the rain and their equally pounding hearts.

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The day before you have to actually serve:

♤ You spent some time past closing time working and memorizing the drinks, sometimes asking diluc to personally try the drinks and give you some advice.

♡ He reassures you many, many times that you will do a fantastic job, evident of the immaculate presentation and attention to detail. Of course he will admit, the taste of the drinks is not perfect but with your efforts and a little time, he's sure it can be easily improved.

◇ He helps you by acting as a customer, giving you pointers and quick tips as you serve him none other than fruit juice. Although his intentions were to calm you down, the way he gently smiles at you and gives you heartfelt compliments only makes your heart race even more. You can feel the heat rushing in your cheeks, ears, and neck.

♧ Of course he can't stay forever and you can't help feel a little disappointed, but before he leaves, he gives you a small tale on his first ever drink. Hearing him chuckle fondly of his childhood, especially when he mentions his father made you a little less sad at seeing him go for the night. Sharing your own small childhood memory, you said your goodbyes to him.

(nsfwish part)

(spoilers: they end up confessing to each other, hug, you accept the job offer, and all is well. Diluc also invited you to the dawn winery. Diluc followed you in his dark night outfit to ensure your safety 🤗)

Diluc however was not ready to leave just yet. He had this strange look in his eyes as he stood right in front of you. He was silent for a while, as if contemplating, until he gently held your hand in his, handing you the tavern keys and a note with his other, his warm hands encasing yours for what felt like eternity. He continued to look at you, at your beautiful eyes, for which you could only gaze back into his crimson ones. No one dared to speak in those moments, only gaze into the other's eyes and hold each others hands. Without your recollection, your other hand was now on top of his, gently grazing your fingers with his. As if in a trance, your body moved closer and was now flush with his. Your palms trailing ever so softly down his chest, as he caressed your cheek, tilting your head up to his, whose nose was now tickling yours. Diluc's other hand was trailing down your side, now resting at your hip as he gently holds you flush with his body, heat coursing through every part of your body. He was not looking at your eyes anymore, but rather your lips. Your lips parted as his face grew even closer, your breaths warming up the already heated air around you two. He looked back at you, searching your eyes for approval. Wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on yours, you nodded once and without hesitation diluc closed the distance.

At first, his kisses were soft and inviting, guiding you gently with his fleeting lips. His warm hand, still on your cheek, continued to caress your skin as you two embraced in this intimate moment. He sighed sweetly upon your last kiss, this one lasting much longer than the fleeting ones. Your mind was in a sweet daze, trying to process what just happened by staring downwards to diluc's heaving chest, his laboured breaths fanning hot air to the crown of your head. But when you gazed upon his lips- tracing them gently with your thumb- and looked into his lidded, equally dazed eyes, the fire in your heart reignited with the selfish need for ecstasy.

"Y/n, I'm sorry I just--" he couldn't get very far with his apology due to your lips on his, once again. He was surprised for a moment, holding you steady as he looked down on your heated face, but it didn't last long before he returned your kiss.

Whereas before, it was as sweet as honey, innocent and slow. Now the only things you felt were passionate lust that coursed through your veins, rushed and heavy to feel every part of him, and to be touched the same way. Now your kisses were more confident, deeper. You two were desperate to be close, trailing both of your hands down each other's bodies, pulling and pushing, clutching and lifting hair and clothes in a lustful dance you both created. In the mess of things, diluc slides his fingers inside your clutched hands that's holding the keys and note and sets it to the nearest table, and starts pushing you towards the wall behind you, passionately slamming your body flush between his and the wall. Diluc hooked your leg and lifted it, grabbing the curve of your ass and connecting your hips with his. He moved on from your lips and made it his goal to mark every part of your neck. You couldnt help but moan and gasp as he continued to pleasure you.

You've never felt this good before, everywhere in your body is burning with lust and desire, so much so that you could feel your legs shaking to keep you up and your mind is clouded with blinding bright pleasure. Sensing you slowly sliding down the wall, diluc hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he captured your lips again, earning a sharp moan from you. You couldn't help but comb you fingers through his crimson flame hair, reveling at its softness by tugging it near his scalp, a low groan reverberating in your mouth. Hearing this, you tugged some more, caressing his hair and face, earning more deep, appreciative moans from diluc. You could feel your lower region ache and pulse with want-- no, need-- and it seems that diluc feels the same way, feeling him grind his hips into yours, surely bruising it like the rest of your spent body.

You wanted to continue doing this, the ache that you feel growing stronger with the intense need to feel him in ways beyond just kissing. But when he suddenly reached into the back of your shirt to tug on your bra, you suddenly had this hazy realization of where you are and who you were having this intimate moment with. Without thinking, you pulled away from the kiss, a hand gripping diluc's upper arm. Everything was silent, except for the heavy breathing that mixed with the heated air. You could only focus on his heaving chest as you descend slowly from both cloud nine and his arms, until you were back on your feet, albeit shaky. He still held you, but gave you some room to breathe, you could tell he was concerned for you and you were grateful that he listened to your actions. You both sat still, not speaking a word, not knowing what to say, your mind buzzing too much to think of something to say. And so you held each other silently, unable to look at each other. That was until he suddenly turned his head back to you, a question forming in the way he looks at you in slight hesitation, concern, maybe even desperation.

"Do you regret it?" He huffed out in a low voice, barely a whisper, almost as if scared as to your answer. That question shocked you, and you couldn't help but stare in his eyes in silence. A moment passed, and your initial shock turned into understanding. You would've asked the same thing had it been you who was rejected of your advances, one that you thought you both wanted. Giving him a small, reassuring smile, you gently cupped his face. "No, diluc, I dont regret this in of itself. I. . . Do however realize that I might have made things awkward between us. I went into this, wanting to give you payment for your generosity in the form of being employed. I wanted to help out at the tavern and serve drinks to customers, and in doing so, lessen your burden." You paused briefly, uncertain of your next words. But diluc deserved to know how you feel. "And I admit, another reason for wanting to train under you. . . Was so that I could get to know you better as a person. I have romantic feelings towards you diluc." There. You said it. But when you looked up, you panicked at his now stunned face. Desperate to save yourself from the blow of rejection you hurriedly tried to add, "but I understand if you dont feel the same way and is now uncomfortable around me! You can ask me to leave you alone! I will respe-oof!" Suddenly, you are engulfed in a smothering embrace with diluc, your face squished against his chest as he rests his face on top of your head, murmuring thanks to who you assume is Barbados.

"There's no reason for me to ask you leave. I never want you to leave my side. . . Not when I feel the same way about you." He held you tight for a moment longer before gently pushing you back by your shoulders. He now resembled an embarrassed child whose secret crush was exposed to others. Before, he stared longingly towards you. Now he cant so much as glance at you before splotches of red bloomed from underneath his pale skin. "Forgive me for being so bold. That previous statement was childish of me. I simply want you to know that I wish to keep talking to you. I'd hate for things to become awkward. And if you so wish, I will give you an early employment at the tavern, guaranteed. Of course, you can decline as I have already shown my incompetence as a professional employer, and I wouldn't want you to feel uncomfortable working under me."

Hearing those words from him made you so incredibly giddy, you didnt hesitate to jump up to him and hug his neck, giggling like a child. It only took diluc a moment before his own arms wrapped tightly around your back, chuckling at your antics. "I take that as a yes, then?" You lifted your head from the crook of his warm neck slightly to look at him, his fond and warm smile lighting up your heart. You nod excitingly, "yes," and in that moment, all was how it should be.

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Diluc still needed to leave the tavern to run some errands and he seemed reluctant to let you go. As a way to motivate him, you caressed his cheek softly and gave him one final kiss on the lips. You could feel his eyes widen briefly before sweetly kissing back, a smile forming with his lips. In an effort to make the embrace last, he continue to hold you up, squeezing you against him in an engulfing hug. Before it could get beyond just a sweet kiss, you interrupted by placing a thumb between both your lips, caressing his swollen bottom lip. You placed your forehead on his and gazed into his eyes, his crimson ones dazed and lowered. "Will you set me down now, diluc? You still errands to run, and I need to go home." He looked at you then, "what about your training?"

Your training. You did say you wanted to practice more, but that was before all of this happened. You had completely forgotten about it, and there would be no point staying this late anyways. "As you've said many times before, I think I'll be fine for tomorrow. Right now I think it's best to go home and rest. I believe it's midnight already." Sensing your exhausted demeanor, Diluc hummed and his eyes began to clear up. He set you down softly, his large hands cupping your side and cheek. "Be safe Y/n." You smiled up at him, delighted by his concern, "I will, Diluc."

Your smile fueled his courage. With a playful look in his eyes that which you've never seen on him before, he lowered his head, lips tickling your ear as he whispered, "you looked so pretty pressed against a wall." He took a breath as if to say more, but decided on a wet kiss to your ear lobe, smirking as he left you standing there red and embarrassed in the tavern.

Although he did not say it, you were certain that this would not be the last time you shared an intimate moment with him.

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Aftermath:

♤ you took several minutes after diluc had closed the tavern doors to process what happened. Your hands flew to cover your mouth and you dropped to the wooden floors as you remembered all the deep kissing, wall pinning, and embarrassing sounds you made as he touched you in all the right places. You splayed flat on the floor to try to cool yourself down, your hands covering your entire face as you silently screamed. When you finally got up to grab the keys, you noticed the note you forgot he also gave you. Upon unfolding it, your legs threatened to buckle as you stared at his invitation inside dawn winery. It took you a very long time to recover enough to go back home, and even more so to calm down your racing heart and mind to get some sleep.

♡ fortunately, diluc was the same way. The second he was in his home, he leaned heavily against his bedroom wall, his clenched hand over his mouth as he, too, reminisces the past intimate course of events. He stared at his hands, the ones that caressed, held, and touched you feverishly. He combed through his flamed hair, still felt your small hands tugging the now disheveled locks. Even now he couldn't get the image of your pleasured face out of his mind. He needed to see you again. Know that you got home safely. And so he got into his alternative suit, adorning his mask, grateful when it cooled some of the flushed skin on his face. He quickly went back to the tavern, a sense of relief and amusement filling his heart upon seeing your embarrassed attempts to recover. And also that you were safe. He walked in the shadows the whole way to your house, smiling unrestrained at each thing that you do. You made it to your front steps, when you stopped suddenly. Diluc waited, wondering why you didn't go inside. 'Did she forget her keys?' But no, diluc was stunned when you turned around and faced upwards towards where he was hiding, and smiled. Diluc knew that you did not know exactly where he was, your gaze a little ways off, but the fact that you knew he was there following you was almost enough to make his heart stop. Almost. What managed to stop his heart, though was the three words you mouthed towards him, a shy yet determined smile wrapping around each word in a sweet embrace. And then you were gone. Closing the door before behind, leaving diluc to his scattered thoughts. He didn't care what this meant for his vigilant activities. He didn't mind that you had already gone inside and could not hear what he said. He simply felt the need to say, if not to you, than to confirm his own feelings. He stared at the spot you were before, imagining your sweet smile and beautiful self, and spoke.

"I love you, Y/n."

[icebrooding]

{Fic: Where you lead me, I will go}

On Ao3

Trahearne/Male Sylvari Commander

Bad Ending, Dark

964 words

Well, I finally finished and posted a GW2 fic! This idea has been poking around my head for a while and wouldn’t leave me alone until I finished it in its entirety.

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“Marshal, the new recruits are almost ready,” Kaushue reports as he strides up to his superior’s side, waving off the few troops that had escorted him.

Quite silly, he thinks. He is perfectly capable of taking care of himself—but, then again, it is a precaution ordered by Trahearne himself, so he finds the intent flattering.

“Good, good.” Trahearne’s gaze looks far and distracted, enough cause for concern for his second-in-command. Kaushue pulls closer and rests a hand on his rugged, foliage-clad arm.

“Is there a problem, Trahearne?” He asks, skipping the formalities. They have been lovers long enough to allow himself this in their private moments.

“To be honest, it is a bit disheartening,” the marshal says as he gestures a hand towards the troops beneath them, gathered on the grasses and awaiting orders. “I remember once when people were willing to join us, to further our cause.”

“And now they react in fear, and try to escape.” Kaushue finishes for him, looking down with a wistful look in his eyes. “They trusted us once. Looked up to us, respected us. They believed we knew the right way forward. We still do.”

Trahearne sighs and looks away from their well-cultivated army. “Kaushue—or is it Chuileann, now? I have heard some call you that. It might not be what I am used to, but it is still quite endearing.”

Kaushue’s brow rises. “Oh, that. I have heard some inhabitants of this area say it is a… localised version, of my name. I see no need to correct them; I am 'Commander' first and foremost.”

“Interesting. Nonetheless, you shall still be my Kaushue, always.” He says, hand reaching up to rest over his lover’s, muted browns and greens over dark teal. “Have there been any other updates worth reporting?”

“Ah, yes. Caithe has improved her methods on training our officers. It has streamlined the process considerably. As for Canach… regretfully, he is ill-suited to positions of leadership. I recommend a relocation of duty.”

Trahearne nods, Kaushue’s hand falling from him as he rests his arms atop the weathered, moss-dusted stone wall at the edge of his overlook. He watches as Caithe wanders in, troops following her in a neat line. Watches as she issues her commands and organises wayward soldiers. “Caithe is very capable, but we need Laranthir. He was excellent, I’m sure Canach could thrive under his tutelage.”

“We will find him, Trahearne,” Kaushue assures, “his disappearance at Dragon’s Stand was unfortunate, but he must still be out there, and we will find him.”

It is a noticeable gap in their ranks to be missing someone as talented and knowledgeable as Laranthir. And it is hardly even just his position that makes Kaushue desire to recover the grand warmaster, but also his own affections. The man had been smart and respectable, too valuable to not be with them.

…And his sister, Aileana, beloved the man. He can’t help but wonder if she is away with him, in his company—he has not seen her since Verdant Brink, and worries deeply.

“Commander, you look dismal. Whatever’s the matter?” Trahearne asks, looking back at him. Kaushue startles, far too lost in his thoughts, and shakes his head.

“I was thinking of my sister. I believe we will find her with Laranthir.” He explains. “…If you won’t need me for some time, I would like to form my own team to exclusively search for them.”

Trahearne turns to face him, leaning against the banister. “Sending our primary commander on a search mission seems like a poorly thought out idea, if I may be honest.” He says, arms crossed. “But they too may be doubtful of our new direction, and may be hostile. …I permit your request. I trust you to recover them both with non-lethal force.”

“Thank you, Trahearne. I will return as soon as I am able.” Kaushue bows slightly, offering him a grateful smile.

Trahearne pauses for a moment, and then he is reaching for his commander because something suddenly doesn’t feel quite right about all this—something about that smile feels ill-fitting, like it should be… should be—

“Please, please, let me go!”

The commander rights himself abruptly and sighs, loud and aggressive, hands balled into fists. “More recruits acting out.” He growls and turns to leave. “I apologise, Trahearne, we will continue our conversation later when I return.”

The marshal’s arm falls back to his side. “Yes. Yes, of course, commander.” Whatever just broke through his thoughts…surely doesn’t matter.

Kaushue almost passes the threshold of twisted vines that make up the entrance to the overlook when he pauses. He turns back, catches that distant look in his beloved’s eyes, and calls out to him. “And worry not. We will find where the remaining Pale Reavers have been hiding the rest of our brothers and sisters. We will make them see the light.”

Trahearne looks back at him, eyes a deep golden glow, and Kaushue smiles. His brother had always been handsome, beautiful, but even moreso now because finally he is his true self. The muted colours, the roughness of his foliage, his impressive height and musculature.

He runs a hand through his own leafage, the auburn hue far more pleasant to him than the hideous greyish-blue it had once been. They were both perfect now—why his brothers and sisters would reject perfection, he would never understand.

He shakes his head free of the thought for the time being and descends down the thick ropes of vine. They could reject it, but he would never stop trying to offer it to them.

The screams in the distance approach closer and he sighs again.

How much simpler all this could be if they just accepted reality. Accepted Mordremoth. Just like he had.

[tommyspeakycap]

Cheeky

jack grealish x reader

prompt request; you're talking on the phone and your lover quietly comes up behind you, wraps their arms around you, and starts gently kissing your neck. you begin to lose focus on your phone call as you concentrate on not making any noise.

its a little bit smutty - 18+

Jack likes to think he's a fairly patient man. He kind of has to be. If he gets any more than irked when his team are down a goal then he'd lose his head a little and they certainly wouldn't make up that goal if he couldn't keep his cool. It wasn't something he was born with so much as something that was trained into him through time and good coaching from his youth days through to now, as captain.

His patience with you is tenfold. That man grew up with three women in his life. It felt like half of all his dad ever said was "Just be patient Jack, the girls aren't ready yet." when he was young, bouncing on his heels at the door desperately waiting to go out with his family and his mother could more often than not be heard saying "Patience is a virtue, Jack." So he liked to think it was something he was relatively good at when it came to both his game and his girlfriend. Though you might inclined to suggest a little bit differently.

Today had been one of those days where he got to have a lie in, eyes softly shut, chest rising and falling rhythmically with his hair strewn out in all angles well into the early hours of the afternoon. His sleep was very satisfying and the long lie much needed, but he would have preferred to have woken up with you still there next to him when his eyes finally peeled open to an empty bed.

You had gone out, as you told in a text message sent to his phone half an hour ago knowing he would wake up and see it. When he texted back to ask where, he didn't get a response until you walked through the door again with a coffee for him and two muffins in a brown bag. You'd gone out for brunch with a friend thinking that you'd be back before he woke up but she had talked for longer than you anticipated and then you got stuck in the afternoon traffic. The muffin and the coffee were your way of saying sorry you weren't there when he woke and served as the perfect temporary fix for his grumbling belly.

A lot of the rest of your day was spent working, which pissed you off to no end. The one day Jack had to spend, you of course could not escape university for. "Last two weeks and then I'm all yours," you'd assured him, "Well, 'till I can get a job and work for the rest of my life to pay off those stupid loans. Lovely." You had a bit of a habit of being a bit less optimistic when you were stressed and Jack could very well see that was the case today. He knew you'd enjoyed uni, but you and every other student in the world would hate that last few weeks with the scramble to submit projects and clean up shop before graduation.

"I told you not to take out loans, baby," He had cooed earlier in the day as he stood behind your desk in one of the spare rooms, messaging your shoulders, "I have plenty for the two of us, you know it."

His words were sweet, genuinely. Muffled by your hair as he pressed his lips down onto the crown of your head. But you laugh softly at him with a shake of your head. "Don't start with that, Grealish."

He had laughed at your retort and left you alone to work again until dinner which he of course did not make because all that Jack can make is pot noodles or toast and cheese. Neither of those things had tickled either of your fancies, so it was takeaway delivered straight to the door that had you all but floating down the stairs when the smell wafted up.

Jack knew what he had in mind for after dinner. Something that both he and you would equally enjoy that would be very de-stressing for you too. That very enjoyable thing did not include you being on a three way messenger call with two of your closest friends from uni gossiping and talking about coursework while you finished wiping up the kitchen.

That's where Jack's patience appeared to come into play once more.

One might say he had been incredibly patient. He waited all day without trying to bother or pester you while you were working like he usually might and then he waited through dinner, waiting with the TV paused when you promised you'd only be five minutes wiping down the kitchen counters and doing the dishes.

And then he heard that god forsaken phone ring and his head tipped back onto the back of the couch with a silent groan. Then he waited another short while listening to you on the phone, not much involved in the conversational aspect than you were the reacting to the story.

The sight of you made him groan again when he walked into the kitchen after hearing a few moments of silence on your end, thinking that you might've finished the phone call. He was dead wrong, you were still stood with the phone help up to your ear as you looked out the kitchen window into the garden in apparent thought. You stop Jack walking up behind you in the reflection of the window.

He wraps his arms around your waist slowly, resting his chin on your shoulder with his head against yours. You lay the phone down on the counter with your friend continuing to tell the story about her boyfriend while you turned your head to look at your own pouting man. "Sorry baby," you coo softly, "Her and Will got into this messy fight and I-oh"

Your whispered words die on your tongue when you feel his move to your neck. Instinctively, you want to push him away but the feeling of his lips, soft and cold from the ice water he'd just been drinking, moving up the nape of your warm neck if just too good for even begin to swat at. "Give me two minutes to end the call," you murmur as quietly as you can manage into his ear, but you just feel a the gently grunt of his disagreement. "No no baby, you finish that call. I'll be right here."

"But Jack- fuck-"

"Better not let them hear you, baby." He lulls softly into your ear.

"You still there (y/n)."

You almost yelp in fright at the sudden call of your name through the phone. Of course you knew the call was still on but the speaking had completely gone blank to your ears, one of which Jack currently had his teeth nibbling at. "Sorry!" You chime, voice shaky, "I lost you guys for a bit there I was," you have to take pause to release a heavy breath in both an attempt to steady your voice and to expel the pleasure building up through your body as his kisses continue over you, "Moving room. Back now though."

"Are you alright?" One asks in genuine concern. You'll need to do a better job to keep quiet. "Yeah course. Sorry, continue."

They do just that, enveloping back into a conversation that is completely lost on your mind. Jack's hands are under your top, your bra long dropped to the floor. He can see your open mouthed, eyebrow furrowed look of pleasure in the reflection of the mirror as he moved his thigh carefully and slowly between your legs, rhythmically. "Ah ah ahhh," he tuts in your ear lowly, "quite baby, shhhh."

The feeling of his hard on pressing into your ass only fuels the fire burning in the core of your belly with each squeeze and knead of your breasts. He knows exactly what he's doing with the flexing and loosening of his huge thigh muscles pressed into you. You quite literally couldn't catch the moan that tumbled out of your lips with the friction he had created with his leg as he continued those precision targeted kisses leaving marks over your neck.

Both of your friends freeze and Jack is paused in all his movements as you clamp your mouth shut.

"Ouch?" Jack groans, biting down on his lip as he looks at you. His attempt to play off your sound only elicits more silence. "Jack's just stubbed his toe." You announce in an unceremoniously high pitch with an incredibly, almost unheard-of nervous laughter to follow while Jack tries with everything he has not to burst into laughter. "Gotta go, call you back tomorrow!" You yelp out, grabbing your phone from the counter with a frantic hand, "Those feet pay the bills after all!"

Neither of your friends get in a word in before your fingers have hit the big reg end button and turned towards the now very sly looking footballer standing so close that you can still feel the heat radiating off him, that thigh attempting to creep its way back in between yours.

"I'm so going to get you back for that." You warn. He sniggers.

"You will, will you?" He teases with a smirk, jutting his tongue out over his lips.

"Yeah," you say firmly, taking a step closer to him to wedge yourself back into the pleasureful position. "Not fucking today though, Jack. You'll finish what you started today."

He is very happy to accept his marching order, hoisting you up onto his arms with your legs tight around his waist as he immediately moves to set you on the kitchen counter.

"Not a problem, baby."

[animatedrapture]

"VORFREUDE."

Summary: Sakusa thinks of you as his vorfreude, his intense anticipation from imagining future pleasures. He swears it's not mere delusions.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader / slight Komori Motoya x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Genre & Content Warnings: Slight angst. NSFW. Dark content. Yandere behavior. Porn with Plot. Incel/Bully!Sakusa. Virgin!Reader. Abuse. Non-con. Blackmail. Coercion. Misogyny. Slut-shaming. Slight manipulation and mindbreak. Fingering. Corruption. Defloration. Degradation. Vaginal penetration. Creampie.

Notes: Thank you soooo much to the lovely anon who commissioned this! Took a lot longer than it should've cause academics kept cutting in & joint with my anxiety. But yeah, thank you so much :') Thank you Faiwy for the final beta !! <3

If you're thinking about commissioning me, please refer to this post.

You’re a constant, Sakusa thinks.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been following him and Komori like a lost puppy—whenever they were, you were sure to be there. He can’t think far back enough to remember when it started, but you were insignia of constancy, that was all Sakusa knew.

He listens intently while you talk to Komori from beside him, voice low and stumbling over your words every so often—he knows you're going out of your way to avoid saying something he could use to pull you apart with, piece by piece like a frail little toy.

"How did the test from yesterday go?" Komori questions you, right as your trio made it to the cafeteria.

Your easy-going smile falters at the mention of it. Sakusa already knows the answer. He shares that class with you, after all. He had the front row seat to see your face flushed with humiliation and how rigid your body grew when the professor told you Sakusa would be tutoring you.

Reminding him that out of everything about you, the way you wore your heart on your sleeve is something that insistently rubbed him the wrong way.

First, because he starts thinking about how easy you make it for people to take advantage of you; it makes his blood boil. Then, he starts thinking about every reaction he could get out of you, like how you'd look from beneath him as he used your body the way you wanted him to.

Because you do, don't you? Why else would you go out of your way to adjust to his habits? To carry around your personal sanitizer and wipes, always making sure the space you were in with them was clean.

Nothing else could explain how you strung along with them like loose thread.

It tugs at the heart beneath his ribcage—but whenever he sees you give all your attention to Komori, the betrayal sinks in, and he's reminded what kind of a woman you are.

A whore.

As you laughed nervously, taking a seat across from them, Sakusa wonders if you're having fun, wonders if for a moment you're riddled with guilt as you flirt with his cousin and him at the same time, in the same breath.

"N-no, it didn't turn out very well," you admit in between stutters, embarrassment creeping back in.

Komori frowns empathetically, "I could help you, you know—"

The sparkle in your eyes is quick to appear. God, you're so cunning. It makes Sakusa consider that maybe you failed the test on purpose, thinking this would happen—but that would be giving you more credit than due. You're just a dumb little girl.

"I'm already tutoring them," Sakusa interrupts, and he's unsure whether to be delighted or angered at the way your face falls sullen.

"O-oh right, but—but I'd love to get your help, Motoya-kun—"

The scoff Sakusa lets out is loud, loud enough to make you wince. "You're dumb enough as it is, you don't need distractions," his words come slicing like knife. You sink in your seat.

Komori laughs awkwardly, giving you a smile—sheepish and apologetic—he's so kind, he's always so kind.

Sometimes you wonder how they're actually cousins; until you're reminded that Sakusa hadn't always been this mean to you. He had always been cautious, but he wasn't ever mean like he was out to get you at every ragged edge.

Somehow, though, the closer you got to him—past his defenses and indifference towards you—the meaner he's gotten.

You were like a moth to a flame, not in the sense that you were attracted to its light, but more so like being punished with burn after burn the closer you got.

But your feelings for Komori begged you at every instance to swallow the humiliation down, at each of Sakusa’s degrading remarks.

You take out your packed bento, wiping at the table with wipes before placing it down, the cousins moving to do the same out of adapted habit, until you notice Komori digging in his bag, eyebrows furrowed like he's confused.

"Motoya-kun? What's wrong?"

He turns to you, scratching at the back of his head, "I think I forgot my sanitizer."

You're quick on your hands, offering him yours without missing a beat and Sakusa's reminded of why he even likes you at all.

You were persistent with being able to stick around them. He thought that was remarkable. That you'd never been freaked out by his habits, you respected his space—something he couldn't say with the people who pushed and disregarded his boundaries. That instead of forcing him to adjust to you, you went out of your way for him to be comfortable with you around.

And he's flattered, really. He doesn't have to wonder if he had a chance with you because surely, he does.

Since he's so nice—nicer than a whore like you deserves, he'll let you know your feelings are reciprocated, then he'll fuck you, because surely, that's what you want… Right?

Then maybe, when you're finally his girlfriend, he can start training you to stop being such a flirty slut, that you belong only to him and that you’re nothing but his property.

But for now, he can settle with the warmth in his chest as he notices all the ways you try to get his attention.

Being with Sakusa is hard, even with Komori around, it was nerve wracking. Conversations with him weren't any easier, if anything, they were more dreadful.

When you ask Sakusa about tutoring you, you do it over lunch just so you avoid having to walk up to him alone. His answer is curt when he tells you to come over tomorrow, and that he’ll pick you up from your place; because you can try all you want to outsmart him, but he’d always catch on.

Because Sakusa was smart, and you were just you.

After lunch, you feel nothing but the dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach—churning and thrashing—because no matter how hard you try to push it down, the fact is that you’re actually scared of him.

Scared of the nitpicking he'll scrutinize you with—the way you sat, the way you looked at him, the way you trembled in his presence alone. You start thinking of what to wear, because even something as little as that can put him off—always commenting about how short your skirt is, how you're showing too much skin, how you're probably doing it on purpose.

But it's nothing you're not used to anymore.

So you tug on your fear, push it into a corner, and you tell yourself that Sakusa is mean, and condescending, and harsh, but he wouldn’t hurt you. You pick yourself up from the corner of your mind, and you repeat in your head like a mantra. Sakusa wouldn’t hurt you.

The ring of the bell breaks you out of your reverie. It reminds you that the day has almost ended, and that it felt like a blink faster than it should’ve been. Still, you pull on your things, gathering them to leave the classroom slowly emptying out.

You make a small sound of surprise when your eyes dart over to the door, where Komori stood, an anxious smile on his lips. He looks like he's been waiting for you, making your heart hammer against your chest like it wants to leap out.

Face-flushed and giddy, you walk towards him.

“Hey, Motoya-kun. What’s up?” You smile, all sweet and bright-eyed. From the pit of Komori’s stomach, something flutters. You only ever look like this when your eyes are on him; he thinks he wants to keep it to himself.

He brings a hand up to his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head with a nervous smile, and it’s awkward in an adorable sort of way. He’s walking beside you along the corridor, it’s slow and the bit of silence between you is calm.

“Ah, well…” He starts, gaze flickering to the floor and back to you indecisively, “I was wondering if I could ask you to the newly opened café tomorrow. A-after you study with Sakusa-kun, of course,” He stutters a bit, offering you a boyish grin.

It so nearly pulls a squeak out of you, surprised in the most love struck sort of way. Your heart beats out of your chest unlike the way Sakusa makes you feel.

Your heart hammers out of fear of him—but with Komori, it's nothing but pleasant and warm and intoxicating.

Your smile is instantaneous; it comforts Komori as your lips part.

"I'd love to," you answer him softly, though an octave higher.

Sakusa finds you both like this, shyly smiling at each other like lovesick doves. There's nothing pure about you, you shouldn't be smiling that way. Especially not at the face of his cousin.

"Oi," he calls out, even through the face mask, his annoyance seeps into your skin and makes you feel small.

The blood that had rushed to your cheeks dries you pale at the glare he gives you.

"Coach is looking for you, Komori," he follows, yet never taking his eyes off of you.

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N!"

Sakusa takes another step closer to you the moment Komori's out of sight. Your grip on your bag tightening, instinctively taking a step backwards.

The action alone makes him practically sneer with you cowering in response.

"Disgusting," he mutters, brimming with venom. "There's nothing I hate more than girls who throw themselves at any guy they see."

Maybe it's the sheer malice in his voice, or the way your eyes catch how his hand moves up—but you flinch, like expecting a hit to come across your cheek.

The pain never comes and when your eyelids flutter open, you're met with hard eyes the color of obsidian yet gleaming with a newfound resolve despite his furrowed eyebrows that suggested hitting you was far from the origin of his intentions.

Without a word, Sakusa walks away from you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

You let your body slump against the wall. His eyes burn in the back of your head, almost like they’re warning you.

Right before you head to bed, your phone chimes once, then twice and it’s bittersweet. One from Komori, telling you he’s excited to see you tomorrow, and one from Sakusa—not beating around the bush, it says nothing but ‘9 AM.’

It’s firm and unyielding. Even as your head hits the pillow, forcing your eyes shut, sleep doesn’t come easy—not even at the thought of seeing Komori on a date.

It’s not the sunlight peeking in between your curtains that wake you, nor the sound of birds chirping outside your window. Instead, it’s the ache in your body acting like a bad omen. Nevertheless, you drag your body out of bed.

Your stomach churns but you get ready for the day.

You think the next hour couldn’t come any quicker, because you’re fidgeting on the balls of your feet and somehow, there’s goosebumps rising against your bare skin.

Your phone blinks back at you with a minute before nine o’clock but you already hear the knock on your door. Your breathing halts even as you move hurriedly to open it—and even when the air hits you as you find Sakusa on your doorstep.

You feel his eyes wander, from the very top of your head, down to your feet, and he mutters, “You look nice today.”

The blush that creeps on your cheeks is only natural. Compliments in any form that came from Sakusa were hard to come by—only because they were compliments in the most genuine, honest of ways.

Sakusa is mean, and if you were more honest with yourself, he’s a bully. But Sakusa, mean or not, is still Komori’s cousin; so you give him a smile, palms going clammy.

“Thank you, Sakusa-kun…” You trail off, hesitating on your next words, “You look nice today, too.”

And he does. The dark color of his clothes complimented his pale skin and dark, curly hair, and despite being covered by the mask, his pristine beauty seems to gleam through. Even seemingly unfazed, his gaze on you softens by a fraction.

As abrupt as it appeared, he’s already turning away, “Hurry up,” he quips, but his voice is softer because you look nice today were words that confessed his truest feelings—the ones that reminded him he’s so in love with you and that you’re the cause of warmth in chest.

Even when you strut around trying to get Komori to like you, Sakusa doesn’t attempt to deny the feelings he harbored, because you look nice today, too should mean something, shouldn’t it?

You know you’re dressed up for your date with Komori, but Sakusa doesn’t know that; so in that moment, he appreciates you. For once, there isn't one insult that lingers in his tongue or even in his head as he walks slowly.

Sakusa is nice today, you note as he keys the lock to his place. He had awkwardly placed his hand on the small of your back on the short walk it took from your place to his, guiding you along the sidewalk.

You've only been to his place once or twice, both times were with Komori, so you weren't familiar with the directions. The walk was silent, and in his silence, you found a reason to relax—just enough to make you think that this might go well.

Despite all awkwardness, Sakusa is forward. Seeing you sat on his couch so comfortably, the skirt of your dress riding up slightly, does nothing to hold back his urge to keep his hands on you.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself now, right? Since you like him so much, you'd let him fuck you now… Right?

Sakusa's movements are sly, that's why you don't question how he walks closer towards you, sitting so, so close to you—that's why you choke on the lump in your throat when his hand shoots out to grab you by the wrist, pulls you in, then presses his lips on yours.

The second that passes is only because you couldn't wrap your head around Sakusa—lips pressed against yours and body so close.

But the next second, you're pushing him off roughly enough to stop him and he's looking at you confused.

"Sakusa-kun, I think you misunderstood—I like, I like Motoya-kun, I didn't mean to—this is—" you're trampling over your words, looking at him with panicked eyes.

Sakusa mutes out the sound of your voice, all he can hear is the beating in his chest and the ache of it—the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. He should’ve known.

All the softness in his eyes are gone. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, gripping tighter and tighter; your heart skipping obnoxiously against your chest. Something about the way he's looking at you now petrifies you.

His silence feels deadlier than his destructive words, deadlier when you wince at his grip, whimpering, "Sakusa, you're hurting me—please," and still, he doesn't let up.

Not when he's roughly tugging you from the couch, taking your arm with a bruising grip, then he's hauling you somewhere. You thrash, panicked pleas calling out to him and apologies he doesn't deserve but you offer him anyway. All your protests are rewarded when he halts, turning to you without a hint of remorse, pushing you to the floor—his foot comes to your side, kicking you with a force that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Bile is rising up your throat, coughing and arms shooting to your stomach to protect yourself. Scared feels too small of a word to describe the feeling that looms over you as he takes your arm again, dragging your curled up body.

Sakusa shoves you inside a room, even as you flail around and beg for help, his face remains impassive; whatever force you’re putting in the way you try to break free from his hold is futile. Of course he’s stronger. Of course, but you can’t possibly accept this, can you?

You made Sakusa yearn—disgustingly grapple on his feelings so needlessly, and nothing, he thinks, could be more unforgivable.

So he secures you on the bed, bound and within his claws, for you to take responsibility for the yearning you've planted inside of him.

"S-Sakusa, please," your begging sounds like a whimper. "I-I won't tell anyone! N-not even Motoya-ku—!"

You hear ringing in your ears before feeling the sting across your cheek. From inside your mouth, you can taste metal.

"You won't tell anyone either way," he mutters apathetically, like the idea of you telling anyone isn't a threat, "No one would believe you…"

He pauses, gaze on you hardening for a second, "You don't want Komori finding out you only got close to him because you wanted me, right?"

The sound of disbelief that escapes you is small, even the wide-eyed betrayal that flashes in your eyes does nothing to make him even pity you.

"You–I, I didn't—"

At your stuttering, Sakusa clicks his tongue, "You're such a dumb girl you don't even know what you want."

"That's not true, Sakusa—"

He glares down on you. The bed dips, bracketing your body between his knees, hovering over you, then leaning forward. His hands move slowly as if caressing you before grabbing your hair with a stinging tug.

The fear pooling your eyes only makes him even angrier.

"I hate that face," he grits out, "Always looking at me all scared, then you look at Komori like a shy innocent bitch, it pisses me off."

Pretty as you are, he lands another hit across your cheek—hard enough that you can feel a cut on your cheek trickling down with blood, the side of your ear going deaf. You’re not sure anymore if it was a slap or a punch—all that you know is that it hurts. Your vision is blurred when you open your eyes, but even through them, the insanely expressionless eyes of Sakusa are clear.

It dawns on Sakusa that you wouldn’t date him. Of course you wouldn’t. Sluts like you go for guys like Komori—so he’d just have to take you by force, make you date him by force, make you love him by force.

Besides, you look prettier forced, he observes. Your face tear-stained and bloody makes his cock throb in his pants. With your body weak underneath him, so helpless that it disgusts him and fuels him with desire all at once.

Something about your weakness, the innocence that spills from you contradicting his firm idea that you’re a dirty whore makes him livid. He pictures you painted with bruises and cuts, the image sending a shiver down his spine. Clenched fists pull back, only to land on your sides, on the same places he kicked you.

What makes you feel sick at the stomach more than the abuse he inflicts on you is the way Sakusa’s movements lack hesitation as his hands travel to your bare thighs.

"W-what are you doing?”

It's disgusting. Women like you are disgusting. You lead him on just so you can take advantage of his feelings like this—that even if he knew better, he'd still soften up for you.

It's you who lured him into this, he almost sneers at the thought. You were truly vile, and yet he loves you all the same—wants you all to himself all the same.

"Omi?' You breathe, frightened. The nickname falls affectionately, though, putting all your hope into it, wishing it would tug on his heart enough for him to let you go.

“Let’s talk about this, Omi? Please?” You cry, searching for his eyes—the ones trained on your thighs as he glides his hands against them, your dress bunched up to your hips revealing your baby pink panties. Your sobs only grow louder as he goes further up, going on as if he’s in a trance where he can’t hear you groveling at him to stop.

Strong, calloused hands stop at the band of your panties, fingers hooking, and only then does he look back up at you. Dark eyes drown you as he tugs them down torturously slow, exposing you to him in your most vulnerable state.

The same second you attempt to force your legs shut, comes a biting pain on the inside of your thighs, instantly blooming his handprint at the force. Your mouth opens to wail at the pain, but it’s the same wail that Sakusa swallows as he brings his lips to yours with a kiss so treacherously passionate.

Sakusa pulls away quickly though, eyeing your bare cunt, he brings his fingers to your slit, experimentally rubbing up and down and your response is immediate, somehow. Your slick gathers on his fingers, body squirming from beneath him.

“K-Kiyoomi, it feels weird—stop, please,” yet your hips buck into his fingers as he prods at your tight hole, “Don’t—Not there—N-no one has touched—”

He lifts an eyebrow, “You’re a virgin?” His question sounding more of a comment, because the hesitant nod you give him is almost needless when you hiss at the intrusion of his digit pushing inside of you; your walls clamping down on it, body tensing, he brings a thumb to your clit, circling with enough pressure to make it feel good.

And it’s wrong. So wrong, but it feels good because you’re moaning against your will, whimpering at the curl of his finger and at the additional finger he’s slowly sinking into you.

The stretch is uncomfortable and foreign. Nothing is in Sakusa’s mind but at the thought of you absolutely untouched, absolutely all for him to ruin. Your body instinctively leaning to his, submitting to his ministrations—fingers scissoring and pushing in and out of your pussy, the sound of your slick echoing in your ears as if to taunt you, but your legs are trembling, your gasps are broken and there’s a pressure in your pelvis about to snap.

“You’re so filthy,” he mutters, but he looks at you like you’re the farthest thing from filthy, and his comment is exactly what makes you break, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and cunt creaming around his fingers pathetically.

You feel so dirty, especially at the sound of your slick as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them inside your mouth—the taste of you tainting your tongue. Shaking your head profusely, you beg him with your eyes, “No more—please, I don’t want this.” you weep, muffled.

“Suck,” he commands, but your defiance is clear before you even shake your head, so he pushes his fingers down further, choking you until you gag and find it hard to breathe.

“Suck,” he repeats, and you relent.

Watching you suck messily on his fingers, drool and tears disheveling you, dried blood sticking to your skin, he frees his twitching cock out of its constraints.

Though hazy, your eyes catch it, the thickness of his cock—hard and flushed at the tip—your hands tugging at your restraints feebly making you panic and choke on his fingers, nearly biting down on them.

He’s quick to pull them out, glaring down at you with dark eyes, jaw ticking as his hands curl into fists; knowing what’s to come doesn’t prepare you any more at the excruciating pain of his abuse, even more so at his length pressing against your wet folds—cockhead nudging your puffy clit and making your cunt drool on him.

Both hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. The pain on your face numbs at the sensation of him prodding on your entrance, ripping you apart and increasing the pain—your head throbs as he stretches your cunt with his fat cock, barely giving you time to adjust as he starts to move slowly despite your tense walls barely allowing him.

He curses as he ruts into you, bathing in your cries and moans, violating and invading the entirety of you. The pleasure of feeling you and having you just like this seeps into his bones, turning his languid thrusts more desperate.

“You make desperation look so pretty,” he groans, “You’re making such a mess, you like being forced like this?”

He insults you, but you’re everything he always wanted and more—the taste of your skin as he sucks marks onto your neck as if you were his to own, the clenching and humiliating sound of your cunt squelching as he pounds into you and grunts against your skin. His cock throbs inside you and drags along your velvety walls deliciously; all you can think is that you hate this.

Pressure, pain, the drowning pleasure of Sakusa all over you and inside you don’t allow you to retreat to the back of your head and forget. Not with the burning euphoria building up in your stomach or the moan that slips from your lips as Sakusa brings one of your legs down, bringing his hand to your breasts and thumb swiping around your sensitive nipples.

“O-Omi, please,” you sob, weak and submissive—just how you should be. Your nails dig into your palms, arms aching from your restraints. “I-I’m gonna—I think I—”

“Y-you really are a whore,” he spits, voice strained yet patronizing, still. “Do it, then. Cum on my cock.”

His hand moves in between your thighs, fingers pressing and rubbing circles on your clit as you cry out, tight walls clamping down on him and stuttering his already sloppy thrusts, your arousal running down his length and down to his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Your moans come out as squeals of his name, your back arching and breath catching in your throat, vision going white as he continues to fuck into you.

His breathing is ragged, moving to bury his face into the crook of your neck in an odd show of affection, your swollen cunt pulsating around his cock as he suddenly stills, his low groan vibrating against your skin as he empties inside you.

You want to cry—but nothing comes out, all you can feel is the bruises on your skin, Sakusa’s cock buried deep inside you and his cum leaking from your abused hole, the stickiness and the sweat.

Maybe Sakusa’s right. Maybe you are disgusting, because as he peels himself from you, thinking it’s all over—Sakusa doesn’t undo the ties keeping you on the bed.

He reaches towards the bedside table, grabbing his phone. The sound of the shutter going off once, twice, over and over with the camera directed at you pulls your soul out of you.

“Omi—?” Your question remains a lump in your throat, but Sakusa is smart. He doesn’t need to hear your question.

“You’re my girlfriend now…” He mutters carelessly, “but I’m sure you don’t want Komori to see how you like to be fucked, right?”

[sunfish-studies]

VS Umbrella

✄・・・ Feathery Ink [Karasuno Manager Series]

➜ Pairing: Karasuno x Manager! Reader

➜ Warning: none

➜ Notes: This is a separate series from Crisp Leaves. Similar to Crisp Leaves, manager in this story will be portrayed as a girl. She will be tall. This is just my appreciation towards tall girls, you guys are amazing.

Previous:  ‹ Illusionary Hero › | Next:  ‹ Cogs ›

↷ SUMMARY ↶

A new special move!

The third day of summer training camp and the temperature was still rising. Under the cool shade of the tree upon the hill, you, Shimizu, and Yachi were preparing cool electrolyte drinks for the team. Usually, you three done it in the gym but experiencing how hot the weather was, you three decided brought the bottles uphill so the team could drink immediately in order to avoid dehydration.

“That’s a different type of brand you use, [Name]-chan.” Shimizu commented, seeing a different colored package of electrolyte drink in your hand.

“Oh, Kageyama-kun usually used this particular brand,” you replied, pouring the powder into the bottle and turn the lid close, then you shook the bottle so it would mix thoroughly. Your upperclassman hummed in understanding from your answer.

While it was the third day of training, it’s also marked the three weeks of Kageyama and Hinata not talking to each other even though it didn’t hinder their practice. It worried you a bit, but you knew the two of them would talk eventually.

“Great work,” you said, offering the bottle to Kageyama when he and the rest of the boys arrived uphill. He rasped out a thank you before immediately downing the drink.

“Hinata-kun, this is yours!”

“Thank you!”

You purposely be the one to delivered the bottle straight to the person–Hinata was keeping a quite distance from Kageyama and you didn’t want to force the orange-haired boy to get closer with the raven-haired setter.

“Wuaah, it’s nice and cool,” Hinata sighed in content, placing the bottle upon his cheek–enjoying the coolness radiating from it. After satisfied in cooling down his face, he soon downed the drink. Now that you think, you rarely talk to Hinata these days with him busy with his practice.

“[Name]-san, is your arm okay?” ah, he must be referring to the long cut on your arm.

“It’s already a month, Hinata-kun, it’s healed but it does leave a scar,” you lifted your arm, showing a faint lighter line present on your skin where your wound previously at.

“Oh, sorry,” frowns don’t suit Hinata at all–he’s a bright ball of beaming energy, a warm figure who could lit your day in an instant. It’s his nature, and seeing him becoming dejected from the start of the day was worrying.

“It’s fine, Hinata-kun, it’s not your fault anyway. It was an accident,” you dismissed his apology. “And if you need anything, just call out for me, okay? I’ll do my best to help you.”

You didn’t know what force that made you say those words, but you know you couldn’t take it back–you didn’t intend too anyway. Hinata always worked hard by himself, so you want to support him as much as possible. The orange haired boy looked taken a back before a giving you that infamous wide, sunny grin.

“Okay! And call me Shoyo, then! I call you by your first name so it’s fair if you call me like that too!”

“Alright, then, Shoyo-kun.”

.

.

The temperature was still rising–the burning hot atmosphere exhausted your boys even further than before. It would get rough, both for their body and mind eventually. You could feel your skin prickling–the tension was rising faster than before, tiredness building up, and sooner or later it would get to them.

“Damn it!” you gripped on your hand a little tighter after hearing Hinata’s scream of frustration. He failed to get the ball over the net because he lost in terms of strength with Lev. For the past three days, he couldn’t hit any ball comfortably, and with the battle of height always looming over him he had nothing to fight it with.

The match continued–Nishinoya tossed the ball perfectly, and then Kageyama went up to made a toss. Hinata, noticing there was a chance for a quick immediately jumped. Even though the ball barely being hit, it still got over the net and fell on the opposite court.

“You held back, didn’t you!?” his upperclassmen’s praises went over his head as Hinata yelled in anger at Kageyama.

“Held back?” the raven-haired setter also didn’t like the approach, glaring back menacingly. “Me? With volleyball?”

Thankfully before a fight could break, Takeda-sensei already asked for a time-out–with that, at least the two could cool down for a bit and not causing ruckus on the court in the middle of a match.

“That wasn’t the falling toss!” Hinata’s next words, caught you off guard. He noticed something’s different with the toss? It looked the same to you.

“It wasn’t?” Takeda-sensei questioned.

“I mean, looking back, it technically may not have been.” Coach Ukai answered, a thumb under his chin. “I think what just happened is that the toss right now wasn’t like the falling tosses he’s been getting, but more of a parabola.”

It clicked in your mind–the abrupt change suddenly made sense. “Does that mean Kageyama-kun is trying to get Shoyo-kun to hit the ball no matter what?”

“It’s on purpose?” Yachi turned to look at you.

“But what for?” Shimizu’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Hinata hasn’t hit a spike comfortably for a while now,” Coach Ukai was the one who answered to their question. “That’s pretty stressful for a spiker. Kageyama might have subconsciously been worried that Hinata’s might not play as well because of that.”

You frowned in worry, seeing how Hinata still rooted on his spot despite Tanaka’s attempt to dragged him off the court. And it also worried you that Kageyama was looking utterly dejected–maybe he realized for a moment that he pulled his punches. Thankfully it was only a moment–everything was resolved rather quickly and practice resumed.

.

.

After practice at night, you found yourself helping Bokuto, Kuroo, and Akaashi in the third gym. The owl captain immediately dragged you away as soon as the last practice was over (you swore you could hear Tanaka and Nishinoya’s screams of fury), so here you were, throwing balls to Akaashi so he could toss it to Bokuto. Surprisingly, Tsukishima was present as well–now, he’s learning to block with Kuroo’s guidance.

“Oh? Tsukki, [Name]-chan, did you bring a friend today?” Bokuto suddenly asked, which confused the two of you.

“Pardon?” Tsukishima questioned.

When you threw a look over your shoulder, you immediately took a notice of an extremely familiar figure with orange hair by the door. Calling out, you gave him a smile. “Shoyo-kun!”

“[N-Name]-san!”

“What happened to your partner?” Tsukishima asked.

“Kageyama’s practicing on his own again,” Hinata answered. “I was trying to get Kenma to throw me tosses, but he ran away after the fifth one.”

“It’s amazing that you got Kenma to even give you five during practice,” Kuroo remarked.

“So, please let me practice with you!” another surprised for you because Lev showed up and asking the same thing.

“Lev!”

“Oh, Hinata,” the silver-haired boy then noticed you and immediately waved his hands enthusiastically. “Otohaku-chan!! You’re here too!!”

“Lev, quit flirting with the manager and I thought you were practicing receives with Yaku.” Kuroo said and of course, the mention of Nekoma’s libero, Lev stiffened.

“He said I was doing well today, so he let me go!”

From the looks of it, it was no doubt he ran away while Yaku was having a bathroom break or something else that required him for leaving the gym. But Kuroo, being the lenient and laid-back captain he is, dismissed it.

“Well, whatever,” he sighed. “Then, we have the right number of people, so let’s play three-on-three. [Name], you’re in charge of the score.”

Nodding in understanding, you pushed the score board closer and changed the names above–cats and owl, it reminded you of the two captain’s characteristics. You were fine in looking over the match, but this match was quite ridiculous. Thankfully, you’re not the only to think so.

“Um, isn’t this just a bit unbalanced?” Akaashi questioned. He was in the same team with Bokuto and Hinata, whereas the opposite team was clearly having more advantage in height–Kuroo, Lev, and Tsukishima are all above 185cm. Still with the disadvantage he got, Hinata was excited for sure.

The match was interesting to watch–even with the lack of extra height for Hinata’s team, they were still on par with Tsukishima’s team. But soon it was stopped by Yukie and Kaori’s appearance.

“If you don’t wrap soon, the cafeteria will close and you won’t get any dinner.” Yukie informed. “Oh? [Name]-chan, you’re here too? That explains why you don’t show up for dinner.”

Frustration was clear to Hinata because he clearly enjoyed the match and he didn’t want it to end, however, with Kuroo’s reassurance that they would continue this tomorrow, he was back bouncing on his feet. You couldn’t help but smile at the captain’s attentiveness.

“Thank you for cheering Shoyo-kun up,” you said, as the seven of you walked towards the cafeteria. Yukie and Kaori said they had to handle other things first so they couldn’t accompany you (it was hard for them to let you go with the boys). “Today’s not a good day for him so this match definitely cheers him up.”

“It’s nothing, and we probably have to apologize to you too,” Kuroo remarked. “Bokuto’s dragging you here, you stuck with us, and missed dinner. Bokuto, you have an apology to make!”

“That’s right, Bokuto-san, you made Otohaku-san missed dinner.” Akaashi piped up. “Tomorrow she has to wake up early to prepare breakfast, too.”

As if struck by lightning, Bokuto froze and turned stiffly to look at you before he went on a full apology-mode–as far as dropping on his knees, taking your hands in his, and begging for apology. You laughed nervously, but you knew he was sincere with it.

“I’m sorry, [Name]-chan!! I’ll make it up to you!! Do I need to replace you handling breakfast tomorrow!?”

“N-no, it’s alright, I will be fine and you don’t have to apologize, Bokuto-san. I don’t mind helping you practice.”

“Bokuto-san, you’re making Otohaku-san uncomfortable.”

“Have my back for once, Akaashi!!”

.

.

Now that you think of it, your after-practice time was automatically reserved for the third gym. Bokuto would bound towards you, asking for your help as soon as you’re done with your managerial duties. With your nod, he then reached out for your hand and pulled you to ran towards the third gym.

Akaashi already informed you to just dismissed his captain, but you found yourself couldn’t possibly rejected Bokuto’s invitation–especially when his eyes practically shining, you didn’t have a heart to ruin it. That goes for Daichi also, he even offered to talk to Bokuto about it if it bothers you. You were grateful for the two’s offer, still if you could help, you want to be helpful as possible.

It’s probably the third time you helped them practice by throwing balls and keeping an eye on the score board. Well you did your usual managerial duties as well–refilling the water bottles, giving them towels, sometimes wiping the floor when it became too slippery. Kuroo mentioned that you didn’t have to do it since your work hour was over and him, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Lev weren’t from your team.

Again, you dismissed it–it’s not a heavy duty, anyway. In between water break, Tsukishima asked about why on earth Kuroo wanted to help them when they would end up being rival in the end.

The captain cleared his throat. “I want to make the Battle at the Garbage Dump a reality. It’s what our coach wants more than anything. But who knows how much longer our coach is going to continue coaching? So, because of that, we need you guys to keep winning too.”

Overall, you understood Kuroo’s reason, but there was something that piqued your curiosity.

“Uhm, I know this question might sound strange, but, what is Battle at the Garbage Dump?” you asked.

“Oh, that’s right, we haven’t explained anything to Yachi-san and [Name]-san!” Hinata said.

“To put it simple, it’s like destined match between Karasuno and Nekoma.” Tsukishima explained. “It’s been going since the previous Coach Ukai’s time.”

“Karasuno and Nekoma will climb up until they could go to nationals and then will meet up on the orange court.” Kuroo grinned, reaching up to ruffle your hair lightly.

“That’s… so cool,” you muttered. You couldn’t find the exact words to express the awe you’re feeling. A match in the orange court between destined rivals, it’s almost like straight up from a manga or a movie. Other teams could research but playing against a team that knows you really well is going to be an absolute thrill–probably the best match Karasuno could get.

“Right, right!?” Hinata went up to you and asked excitedly.

“Come on. Let’s get back to practice!” Kuroo informed and all of you immediately went to your assigned place.

Practice went on–still between the Owl and Cat group. When Bokuto had to score against someone tall like Lev and Tsukishima, he didn’t kill the ball instead he hit it purposely against the block–returning it to the team for a more proper toss. Knowing how Hinata was hungry for development, surely he wouldn’t miss this.

After Bokuto managed to kill the ball with an intense straight towards the back line, he instantly approached him to ask about it. Soon, the game continued. This time, it was Lev who went for the score but managed to be soft-blocked by Akaashi. The last ball went to Hinata and you witnessed an absolutely underhanded way of blocking.

“Ah! Hey!” Bokuto screeched, also feeling the unfairness. “You guys are playing dirty!”

Hinata had to face three blockers above 185 cm with not a good toss.

“Nowhere to aim,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes in slight annoyance.

However, Hinata intended to face them–he hit the ball to Lev’s fingertips and it flew over before dropping to the inner-side of the opposite court. He jumped high enough and landed on his back instead.

“Shoyo-kun, you’re amazing!” running and kneeling beside him, you praised. Technically, you’re supposed to check on him but it flew over your mind for a second. “It’s an amazing block-out!”

“Did…you actually aim for that?” Kuroo questioned in disbelief. “That was an amazing wipe!”

“Well, I did aim for Lev’s fingertips.”

“What!?” Lev took a full offense in this.

Still, Bokuto was impressed by the lack of fear the younger had. The owl captain was showering him with praises as the rest of you watched from the sidelines. It went well until Bokuto proposed a ‘special move’–which made almost everyone dropped their beliefs, Hinata seemed to be excited by it though.