#by proving that i could go farther than anyone else that i could be more and do more entirely alone

[keirametzbrassknuckles]

I think there's probably a point where independence becomes abandonment and I'm not sure where exactly that line is but I've crossed it

[untolduttering]

I’ve Got You

Summary: Reader, terrified of needles, injures themself badly enough to need stitches, and does what they can to avoid getting them. Sanji, however, would never let you suffer so.

Tags: Sanji x gn!reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, blood, medical needles, open wounds

Word count: 4.4k

I made one for Law ages ago, and thought it’d be fun to write a version for Sanji, (you all should thank @yourboyhack for encouraging me <3 <3 <3)

Several mistakes were made on your part. First, you had let yourself stray from the rest of the group. You weren’t one to get lost easily, and so when you wandered farther than everyone else, it didn’t raise any alarms. You yourself were confident, and there hadn’t been any clear threats. It was an uninhabited island like any other, the forest like any other. But that had been your second mistake. You underestimated the terrain. A cursory glance left you thinking you could venture out without any real equipment. It was a simple walk. But the air held that earthy scent that meant it had just rained, the earth loose beneath your feet. The third was just not taking anyone with you. A second set of eyes would have pointed out the drop, or at least have caught you when you slipped. Instead, you threw your arm out behind you, desperate to grab any sort of branch or root, or even the ledge, but you found purchase in neither.

The drop wasn’t that far. It was the sort of fall that would have merely been embarrassing, only leaving you disgruntled because of the mud in your clothes and your own stupidity, if it weren’t for the rock jutting out. You hit it on the way down, thigh catching and tearing along the jagged edge. The breath left your body as you hit the ground, and you laid there for a moment, completely still, to breathe deep and try to reorientate yourself. You dreaded the bright pain that was building in your leg, not wanting to know the extent of the damage. When you finally brought yourself to do it, a hiss slipped between your clenched teeth. It was difficult to know how deep the gash was with all the blood that had already welled up and began to drip, but you knew it was bad. Your stomach turned at the thought of what it’d take to heal it, your mind touching and recoiling away from the thought of stitches.

You hurried to stand, ready to prove that it was not that bad. Your legs shook as you stood, but less from pain and more from the shock. As you started your search for a way out, you found it difficult to put too much weight on your injured leg, but it was manageable. What kind of Straw Hat were you if you couldn’t? You were fine, you told yourself. You could suck it up and fix it.

The little gap in the earth you had fallen into wasn’t all that deep. You couldn’t even call it a ravine, really. The little hill up and out to leveled ground was close and short. It made it all the more easier on your part, but also more irritating. This, out of all things, was what had caught you unawares? It was not something you were going to be eager to explain.

You hobbled your way back. It took longer than your way in, but at least you knew the path there. You kept a hand pressed to your wound, an effort that wasn’t doing much but making your hand a sticky mess, but you didn’t have much else to do for it. In this one instance, you were relieved to find the ship empty when you made your way back. Carefully, you climbed the gangway and stopped on the deck, listening. There wasn’t a reaction from the crow’s nest, nor one from the upper decks, which meant that whoever must have stayed behind was busy in one of the rooms or below deck. It meant you had to tread carefully.

Usually, you would head straight for Sanji and let him tend to you. It was a ritual at this point. One of you got hurt and offered themselves to the other, relishing the admonitions to be more careful and the skin to skin contact. The trust and love required to allow the other to dirty their hands as they helped them in such a vulnerable state. But this time, you hesitated. You’d never been hurt like this before. And it wasn’t that you didn’t trust Sanji to help you this time. He was more than capable and would be more than willing. His soothing hands and sweet words were all you wanted at that moment.

It’s that you were afraid. The threat of a needle and thread loomed over you. You didn’t know if it was something that Sanji could do, but his skill wasn’t the worry. It was the needle going in and out, slicing through and dragging the thread through your skin, an intrusion that wouldn’t be removed for a while.

You trudged ahead to the bathroom. You could handle this. Sanji was busy anyway, wherever he was; it would have been rude to interrupt and ask him for help over something as simple as a cut. It wasn’t all that deep. Blood had made a fine layer on your leg, but that’s what blood did. Like most wounds, blood made it look worse than it actually was. There was a simple first aid kit that sat in the cupboard of the bathroom, and that was all you would need.

You moved as quietly as possible, as the bathroom was behind the kitchen and getting to it required walking atop it. You hoped that the gentle sounds of water lapping at the hull would mask the creaking of the wood beneath your footsteps. When you made it near the kitchen, you could hear the sounds of Sanji cooking, and cursed your luck that it had been him to stay behind. It made sense, as he would be making lunch for a voracious group of pirates that would be tired from their ventures. You hoped that you could be cleaned and fixed by the time you saw him again. It would make it easier to brush it all away. You kept your steps light as you continued, praying he would not notice. But Sanji had keen senses, and a radar that was attuned specially for you.

Dread became a terrible weight in your stomach at the sound of the voice calling out behind you. You’d reached the door of the library, and quickly shoved yourself behind it in case his head popped up.

“Y/n! Is that you, my love? Lunch is almost ready!” Sanji yelled.

“Yeah! I just need to go to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be right down.” You shut the door and scurried up to the bathroom before he could answer.

It made it more difficult now that he knew you were there. A timer had been set. If you took too long, he was going to come and check.

You stripped down to your underwear, your clothing a dirty mess and now a hindrance. You grabbed the first aid kit and a towel, and settled yourself on the tiled floor, facing the door you’d locked. The trek had left you exhausted and woozy. The task at hand was beginning to feel insurmountable and the sudden feeling of hopelessness washed over you. Sanji’s pampering had left you soft. You wanted his hands on you more than ever, for him to take the weight of responsibility and take complete care of you. But you just couldn’t let him.

First, you used the shower head to rinse all the blood and dirt off, biting hard into your lip as you flushed out the wound. You tried to dry the water off afterward, but it was difficult when the blood wouldn’t stop flowing. You pressed the towel down, waiting for a bit as the blood soaked into the fabric before trying again, but it simply was not working. You had to close it before trying to get any cleaner. Flipping open the kit, you rooted around for butterfly bandages. You were able to apply two before your skin was too slick for the bandages to stick. You grabbed the towel and tried to wipe away the blood with a clean patch, but it smeared it more than anything. Your head was starting to swim and the blood was getting everywhere, all across your thigh, leeching onto your other leg. All over your hands and under your nails. In some spots, it’d dried down and become sticky. The rest left you too slippery. One side of one of the bandages you placed popped up. Your eyes started to burn with frustration.

And then there was a knock at the door.

“Y/n? Is everything all right? You’ve been in there a while,” Sanji asked from the other side.

“I’m fine! Just getting cleaned up.” You hoped you sounded normal, that no strain peeked through.

“Cleaned up? Did something happen?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual grime from hiking.”

“Ah, do you need any help, my dear? I could scrub your back for you.” His voice took on a sultry, flirty tone.

“No!” You said it too fast, too aggressively, and tried to fix it immediately. “It’s just a quick one, no need for help.”

It was wrong. You knew it as you said it. Normally, you would have said yes, ready to take full advantage of an empty ship, or if not, you would have at least flirted back or teased him. But it was hard to think of the right thing to say at the moment.

“Oh.” The dejected tone of his voice sliced right through you, worse than the rock had. “Have I done something wrong?”

Of course he would ask. Of course he would think himself at fault. Why else would you reject someone you loved so dearly, craved so constantly? You didn’t know how much longer this would take. You could send him away, but he’d come right back if you didn’t leave soon after. And the clothes and the towels, what would you do with those? And the wound itself, just how the hell were you supposed to keep that hidden? It would hurt him to know that you didn’t come to him for help.

“No, no, of course not. I just…” You trailed off. The throb of your leg and the tangy scent of blood and the wetness of the floor was making it hard to think. The light was too bright and yet its sharpness didn’t make fixing your wound any easier. You kept moving in a helpless circle of wiping blood and trying to get the butterfly bandages to stick.

Maybe a little truth could help. “I got a little scrape and wanted to handle it myself. I’ll be out soon, I swear.”

“What? Are you alright?” The door handle jiggled. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Fuck, why did you think that would help? You had just told yourself how it wouldn’t help to tell him. “You were busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Sanji knew, though. He always knew. You loved to distract him in the kitchen, doing anything to keep his attention on you. “Let me help you. I’m not busy now.”

He was never going to let up until he got a look at it himself, to at least assuage his own worries. You would want to do the same for him.

“I can’t—“ No, that wasn’t right. “It’s fine.”

“If it’s fine, then let me see it, baby.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. Say no, and it would confirm suspicion. Say yes, and you had to let him in. And you were in no state to find a better way around it. You snatched some gauze, pressing them to the wound, and started wrapping your leg. “Y-yeah. Just a second more.”

“Y/n,” his voice was serious, the closest to stern he could get with you, and dripping with concern. The door handle was jiggling again, now like he was doing something to it.

“Just a moment, I swear.” Lifting your leg to move the wrapping under it hurt and you harshly sucked in a breath, fingers shaking. A few tears snuck their way down your cheeks. Why, why, why was it so damn hard?

The door swung open and all you could do was feel the fear and shame that flooded your body. You were like a child caught doing something naughty, and your mind reeled with how you could defend yourself. The gasp that Sanji let out rang against the tile, and made even louder to your ears by your panic. You looked up, hair hanging in your face.

On Sanji’s end, only one eye poked through that curtain of hair, the rest of your face hidden. It was wide, red-rimmed, and filled with threat. You were a feral animal, back hunched and body tensed, ready to sink your teeth in. Blood was smeared across every available surface, and all over you. Mud still clung to your skin, bits on your shoulders, arms, and ankles where you hadn’t cared to clean yet. If it were anyone else that had stumbled upon you, they would have backed right out from fear. That look in your eye and the redness that surrounded you would have set off alarm bells, the scene making it seem like it was not your own blood you were coated in. And that you weren’t going to stop at one victim.

But it was Sanji, and it was you. You could be crouched over a corpse, soaked to the elbows in another’s blood, an organ pressed to the mess of your mouth, and he would still approach you. Cradle your face and wipe a thumb across your chin and ask if you needed anything else. And so he lept towards you.

“Oh gods, my baby—”

“Don’t!” It was a shrill, ugly noise. You lifted your hand, palm out and fingers spread wide to keep him at bay.

He froze, unable to disobey any command from you. But it pained him to do so, for you to ask that of him. “What happened?”

“I fell. It’s fine, though. It’s not bad. The blood just makes it look bad. But it’s not.” The words came out in a rush.

“Y/n, it looks very, very bad.”

“It’s not! It’s not. I don’t need anything more than bandages.”

Sanji swallowed and slowly crouched down. “Can I look?”

“N-no. Because it’s okay.”

He only looked at you, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed, his lips pressed together and the corners tugging down. He looked so worried, so scared. A pain twisted in your chest.

“I don’t need stitches,” you whispered, trying to reassure him.

And then he understood. He understood your sneakiness and your panic and your refusal. It wasn’t exactly him you were rejecting.

“Oh, oh baby,” he said as he reached towards you.

Unconsciously, you flinched away from those hands. The softness of his voice let you know that he knew the root of your fear, that your words had been an admission, which meant he would do what he could to make those stitches more bearable for you. But you didn’t. Need. Them.

“Stop it. I’ve got it,” you snapped.

Hurt flashed across his face, but he stopped reaching for you. Instead, he sat down and rested his elbows on his knees. Softly, he said, “It’ll go faster, smoother, if you let me help you.”

You bit down on your lip and hunched your shoulders. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want him to be. Tears started to well in your eyes again and it made your stomach burn brighter with anger and shame. “I don’t need your fucking help.”

“It’s okay to be afraid,” he continued. “We all do things while scared all the time. And I’ll hold you through this one the whole time. You know I’ve always got you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wanting to hand yourself over to him so, so badly. But you could see it so clearly, the needle breaking your skin and diving in. Dragging itself so painfully through and out, emerging red with your blood. And the thread that followed, prolonging the pain as it dragged through as well. And the dipping and tugging and pulling that followed, again and again. Your throat felt dangerously tight.

“I don’t want to,” you cried.

“I know. I know, I know, I know.” You felt the slightest brush of skin along the ankle of your uninjured leg, and when you didn’t flinch or pull away, he wrapped his fingers around, rubbing soothing circles. “But you have to. And you can do it. I know you can do it.”

You shook your head, back and forth, back and forth. You tried to tug your leg away but he held firm, and you hadn’t tried all that hard in the first place.

“My baby, my lover, my heart, please?”

His plea broke through it all. Fear could be so tiring. Exhaustion made it harder to fight, to keep your eyes open. Sanji’s words washed over you again and again, always a balm to the worst pains. You wanted him to whisk away all your problems, but this one you had to sit through. However, you’d be in your lover’s embrace, and couldn’t that mean that you could tough it out?

“I’m gonna go get Chopper, yeah?” he asked.

You didn’t answer, instead leaning back and letting your head fall to the side. You sluggishly shrugged one shoulder.

He pressed a kiss to your knee before leaving. In his absence, the fear slowly coiled its way back, the anticipation making it return. You pressed your palms to the tile and tried to push yourself up to run away, but your body was disobeying you. You just couldn’t get your legs beneath you, which meant there was no way they’d hold your weight. Your stomach flipped at the sound of footsteps and hooves clipping.

“Oh no! Oh, Y/n!” Chopper’s little voice exclaimed. You started to curl in on yourself, dragging your injured leg in and away, opening your mouth to snarl, but then Sanji was there, wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you close and you shoved your face into the crook of his neck, a move of pure want and instinct. You inhaled his scent and it left you feeling a little more steady.

He buried his nose in your hair and rubbed your arms as he said, “You’ve got this. You don’t have to look, just sit like this. It’s nice, right?”

“I’ll be able to numb the area, but it does mean I’ll have to inject it with a syringe. You won’t feel any pain from the stitches though!” Chopper explained.

It was nigh impossible to fight back now. Out of all people to snap and bite at, could you really make it Chopper? You would really feel like the villain then. “Okay,” you croaked.

“Okay. I’m gonna start now, first by cleaning up the wound.”

Your blood had gone tacky in the time it took to fetch Chopper, and so the gauze being peeled off your skin left you tensing your muscles. You gripped a handful of Sanji’s shirtfront, tugging it towards you.

“Breathe, my sweet, breathe,” he cooed as he petted your hair.

Both boys inhaled sharply at your fully revealed gash. You didn’t turn to look, quickly frankly sick of looking at the damn thing. Sanji’s hold on you tightened and you felt guilty at all the anxiety you were causing him.

You tried to be as still as possible as Chopper cleaned, but it was difficult not to twitch at every sting. There was a silence when he finished, only interrupted by the sounds of Chopper rifling through his supplies.

“Now for the numbing. Are you ready?” Chopper asked.

“Go ahead,” you said, trying to get your voice to cooperate, to sound steady. It wobbled anyway.

“Lunch is sandwiches, if you’re still hungry after. If… it’s still there, actually. I’d thought you would come out sooner, so I left it in the kitchen with everyone else’s, and you know how Luffy is, that insatiable asshole. Hopefully the others keep it from him, but with him, it’s always a fight.” Sanji’s rambling caught you off guard, and in trying to pay attention to what he was saying, the needle went in and out without bothering you much. Your breath hitched a little at the fluid entering your muscle, but you were too distracted thinking about Luffy stealing your food to give it more thought. You didn’t really have an appetite at the moment, but it was your sandwich that Sanji made for you. And you each had a favorite, one specific to each of you, so Luffy knew better.

“He better not,” you huffed.

“If he did, I’ll kick his ass,” Sanji answered.

You let out a little huff of laughter at that.

“I’m still deciding what dinner is, though. Is there anything you’ve been craving?” he asked.

It was hard to think of what you’d want. “I don’t know. Maybe something with pasta?”

He hummed. “Red or white sauce? Or maybe something different?”

“Um, probably white. Or something more cheesy?”

“Ooo!” Chopper butted in with. “I want something more cheesy.”

The conversation went on just like that. Sanji’s hand roamed, kneading and rubbing at your arms, then your hips, then upper thighs, all in an endless circle. You could feel the stitches, the needle entering and exiting as Chopper worked, but you never felt any pain. It was an odd sensation, like it was more the idea of it than the reality. Sanji’s other hand never left your head, either cupping your cheek and pressing you to his chest, or running his fingers through your hair. Each time you turned your head, wanting to maybe steal a glance, he’d push you right back, knowing that letting you look could send you reeling all over again. His thumb would softly trace your jaw after he did, or his fingertips would ghost over your cheekbones. It was grounding, and safe, to be so engulfed by him.

“All done!” Chopper said after a while.

You pushed off of Sanji’s chest, swatting away the hand that protested it. Your gaze bounced off your thigh, only catching it in your sight for a second before grabbing Chopper and pulling him in for a hug.

“You’re the greatest doctor to have ever existed. Thank you, Chopper,” you told him.

He giggled and wiggled in your grasp. “Aww, you’re just saying that. You can’t flatter me.”

After you put him down, he reached for fresh gauze and bandaging to finish helping you, but Sanji butted in.

“I can do that later, Chopper. For now, they still need a bath.”

“Alright,” he answered. “I’ll be out on the ship then. Make sure to not submerge their wound, though!”

Sanji gave him a thumbs up. “Got it.”

After Chopper left, Sanji slipped out from behind you, slowly and gently as he could so he wouldn’t jostle you. He started up the bath and then turned back to you, kneeling between your legs, so that he could remove the rest of your underwear.

“Think you could lift your hips for me, sweetheart?” he asked.

You were stiff from sitting so long, and now the pain from the other bumps and bruises from your fall were making themselves known. It took you a second, but you were able to do as he asked.

“My poor, poor baby. I’ve got you, though. I’ll take good care of you,” he cooed.

When Sanji lifted you up, you couldn’t help the little whimper that came up and out of your throat. Immediately, he apologized and kissed all over your face as he lowered you into the bath. He started with your injured leg first, beginning with the mud caked to your foot and ankle and then worked his way up, removing the remaining crusts of blood. His fingers barely brushed your skin when he cleaned your injury the best he could, his eyebrows twitching and apology ready at every flinch and hiss. He massaged you as he scrubbed and rinsed, trying to remove the aches and hurts from your body. Every so often, he pressed kisses into your skin, long and loving. You were fully limp by the time he washed your hair, only emitting a satisfied sigh as his fingers worked through your locks. When he finished rinsing, you reached up and pulled his face to yours, and kissed him.

“Thank you, my love. You’re much too good to me,” you said.

He tutted. “I only give you what you deserve, and even I’m not fulfilling that properly; you deserve so much more. You are my everything.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, and that I pushed you away. I’m sorry that I snapped and swore at—”

He cut you off with a kiss, this one more urgent. “You have nothing to apologize for. Ever. I’m the one who should be sorry. I failed you.”

You sat up straighter. “What? How could you have failed me?”

“I should have been there for you, but I stayed behind. I should have made sure you weren’t alone, or been selfish enough to ask you to stay.” He ran his thumb over your cheekbone, his face full of regret.

“No, no. You’ve done more for me than you could ever imagine. You made me feel safe, you always make me feel safe. It was my own stupid mistake, not yours.”

Sanji’s mouth twitched upwards only a little, and you could tell he was still beating himself up, that no matter what you said, a small part of him would always blame himself. He would just never know how truly amazing he was.

You sighed and kissed him softly, on his mouth, his nose, his cheeks and then his mouth again. “Will you lay with me?”

“Of course.”

“For a long, long time?”

“Yes.”

“For however long I want you too?”

“There is not a single demand of yours that I would ever deny.”

You were being needy, taking more and more of Sanji than you should have. But it was impossible not to when he made you feel like heaven. You were ready to let him dress you and coddle you for a lot longer, and looked forward to a cuddle session that lasted hours.

With Sanji around, there wasn’t ever anything to worry about.

[hotshotsxyz]

“You know me better than anyone. You always have.” for the prompts if it sparks!

(buddie) (788 words) i still have so many of these prompts left lmao, hope you like this one!

“I’m fine,” Buck says, and to his genuine surprise, he really means it.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. Rude, but fair. “You’re fine,” he echoes, flat and disbelieving.

Buck shrugs. “Yeah, man, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Eddie blinks a few times. “Is this what denial looks like? I think this might be what denial looks like.”

“Denial is a river in Egypt,” Buck replies cheerfully.

Eddie snorts. “I don’t think that’s how that saying goes.”

“Maybe not,” Buck allows. “Still fine, though.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie says.

“I am!” Buck protests. “I’ll prove it. Ask me what happened.”

Eddie heaves a sigh and stands. “I’m getting a beer. Do you want a beer?”

“I mean, yeah, but not if it's a pity beer,” Buck calls after him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie tosses over his shoulder.

He comes back with a bottle of Buck’s favorite sour, which is ridiculous because the only place that sells it is a full thirty minutes farther than the closest grocery store. It’s absolutely a pity beer.

“Eddie!” Buck exclaims.

He feigns innocence. “I already had it!”

Buck narrows his eyes and takes the bottle from Eddie. “I’m choosing to believe you, but only because I really don’t want one of your godawful IPAs.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and settles back on the couch beside him. “If that’s what it takes,” he says.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me,” Buck says accusingly.

“I am nice to you,” Eddie says. He leans his head against the back of the couch and rolls it lazily to the side to look at Buck directly. “I’ll be nicer if you can find an adjective other that ‘fine’ to describe your current state of being.”

Buck blows a soft breath out through his nose. “I’m good, Eds, I promise.”

“I just—you were more broken up about Natalia,” Eddie says softly. “Why are you so okay with this?”

And that—that is the sixty-four thousand dollar question, isn’t it? Because Buck is fine. He’s not emotionless, but nothing he’s feeling is particularly painful or consuming. Being with Tommy was good and fun and nice, but breaking up with him didn’t feel like some terrible ending. It felt like finishing a chapter in a book that you can’t put down and staying up late because you just can’t wait to start the next one. He’s never really felt like that before.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I just am. You know me better than anyone. You always have. Why don’t you tell me?”

Eddie huffs a soft laugh. “Contrary to the beliefs of our friends and coworkers, I can’t actually read your mind, Buck.”

“I don’t know,” Buck teases, “I think you probably could if you tried.”

“Sure,” Eddie says. “Think of a number between one and ten.”

Eleven, Buck thinks, just to be an asshole. He grins at Eddie, who stares at him in mock concentration.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Stop cheating,” he says.

Buck bursts out laughing. “See? Knew you were a little bit psychic.”

“More like fluent in Buck,” Eddie snarks back.

He feels soft and loose, and it hits him that this is what he’d never quite had with Tommy. They were never as in sync as he is with Eddie. He’s never felt so comfortable, so known as he does when he’s here. It’s an impossibly high bar to hold a partner to, but—

Buck’s jaw drops.

Eddie’s expression shifts to vaguely concerned confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” Buck says quickly.

Eddie fixes him with an unimpressed look.

“I just, uh—” Buck stalls, frantically searching for words that haven’t quite coalesced yet in his mind. “Um. I think I—”

Eddie sits up a little straighter. “Buck,” he says, soft and worried. “It’s just me.”

It’s just Eddie. Eddie who knows him. Eddie who sees him. Eddie who makes fun of him and trusts him and treasures the little pieces of him he’s handed over throughout the years. It’s just Eddie.

It’s Eddie, and all at once Buck is realizing that it’s never going to be anyone else.

“I, uh—” Buck tries again. “I have to—I forgot to feed my neighbor’s cat,” he lies, standing so quickly that he bumps the coffee table and nearly knocks over Eddie’s mostly full beer.

Eddie’s brow creases. “Okay,” he says quietly, and Buck doesn’t think for a second he believes him.

“I’m just gonna—I’ll see you tomorrow?” Buck asks desperately.

“Course,” Eddie says.

“Thanks for the—bye!” Buck squeaks.

He hightails it out the door and throws himself behind the wheel of his Jeep. Of course he isn’t upset about Tommy. How could he be?

He’s been in love with Eddie the whole fucking time.

[olasketches]

I like Sukuna and Yuuji for the same reason as you! But you can tell me to back off if you don't agree with what I'll say next lol

To me Sukuna being reduced to a petty child is so interesting to me because I used to think of what lead him to take his place as the King of Curse and how it pushed humanity farther than him, as he was already not treated humanely. The same way, he say he doesn't feel anything but Yuuji keep pushing his buttons, something he end up recognizing no matter how boring he call Yuuji. Petty until the end too

As for Yuuji... Despite what the jujutsu world tried to drill into him, he found his way back and found value in life again, and that none of them were worthless. Even Sukuna. Even if he hate him

Because Yuuji applied his reasoning to everyone, Sukuna included. We all knew how Sukuna would react but I still really loved to see Yuuji put his values over his personal feelings

We are all aware of the flaws ect ect... But at the end I am happy I discovered and followed Jujutsu Kaisen.

Do you plan to try phantom parade too? And what do you think about Sukuna admitting defeat and the possibility to take another part

Seem like he took Yuji's "you don't have to take the role of the villain" to heart to me

sukuna is such a petty brat and I wouldn't want him any other way. I think the reason he hated on yuuji so much is because he reminded him too much of himself while also being nothing like him. yuuji and sukuna are two sides of the same coin. yuuji even said so himself “sukuna… you are me” 

during the shinjiku arc the fandom has been pointing out how yuuji was slowly morphing into sukuna or how yuuji is going to become another king of curses. and this could have very well been the case… if only yuuji didn’t have his grandpa. during both shibuya and shinjiku arc this boy has been battling his own demons and darkest instincts. when pushed to his limits yuuji turns into a cold blooded demon and we can clearly see that during his final confrontation with mahito and then over the course of his fight with sukuna.

 I’d argue that if he was rejected the way sukuna was he would’ve turned into something far more demonic than sukuna ever was (and that's a personal opinion) cause despite sharing a lot of similarities and having the same level of potential, yuuji is the one who’s the feeler between the two. he feels deeply and has an immense capacity for love but the same is true for other emotions too. that’s why I don’t like when the fandom downplays yuuji’s kindness and compassion as his default traits and think of them as his weakness that can be broken, exploited or corrupted. there is a reason why sukuna couldn't break yuuji no matter how much he tried (and oh boy… he DID try lol), because his compassion and kindness for others don't come from naiveness or because he doesn’t know any better. yuuji is kind because he actively chooses to be kind and his final moment of empathy and compassion towards sukuna, despite sukuna putting him through hell and back, is the biggest prove of that. 

yuuji is strong in ways sukuna couldn’t be and I think sukuna always knew this but never wanted to admit it or face it. even uraume admitted that yuuji has potential equal to sukuna's and uraume is like… THE BIGGEST sukuna glazer so for uraume to admit something like that means that this has always been the case. I believe that sukuna always knew that yuuji could be his equal. and the reason he kept denying it is because yuuji is nothing like sukuna.

yuuji has never felt rejected or resented by anyone in his childhood. his grandfather loved him and cared for him like he would for his own son. he taught yuuji his core values that he still holds onto till this day. sukuna never had anyone like that. people resented and persecuted him, which pushed him to grow stronger and reach heights no one else could. he wanted revenge to punish and curse those who rejected him first, because he was afraid his own curse would burn him from inside out. so when he came across yuuji, a boy just as strong, with the same potential and the same hair colour lol and realised he is still nothing like him that the only curse he’s burden with is sukuna himself… I think something must have snapped in him. I think that little cursed wretch got jealous. I mean how come this brat, this “weakling” who definitely doesn’t have the same potential as him could ever reach his heights and become as strong as sukuna if not stronger. how come he can be his equal when he’s just so… disgustingly human? it’s like some part of sukuna realised that yuuji is both strong and loved despite carrying a curse inside him, a curse he later realised he was also born with. 

I think that must have stung… knowing that due to some twist of fate, a guy that might as well be another version of him since he was made from the same soul as his… just had it better. that he didn’t have to become the strongest, a deity, a calamity to earn respect and receive love… because he had it from the start. 

so to answer to your question after my long and probably unnecessary rant lol I think the moment yuuji defeated sukuna and THEN offered him to live with him and accepted him even if the rest of the world might not, and despite putting yuuji through hell and later turning into a literal blob, meant more to sukuna than sukuna would ever be willing to admit. In that moment yuuji gave sukuna something no one else ever did - love and acceptance. I think this alone is what allowed sukuna to find peace in death. he may have lost everything, but in the end he was finally able to regain his humanity. I believe that’s why he decided to head north and start again. he died as a curse, but now he can be reborn as human, because in the end he was still loved…

and to be loved is to be changed. 

also right now I'm only enjoying phantom parade through other means (new illustrations and people who actually play it lol) since I’m not a gamer myself… but I still might stick around for a bit longer we’ll see :] 

thank you for your ask and hope to see you around too!! 

[penkura]

Special [2/2]

Note: Second part from this request here! Sorry it took so long, I've been burnt out and just struggling to get things out lately. I'll have an update post later today, I think.

Sanji really does feel awful when he realizes what’s going on with you, why you walked away and said you wouldn’t bother anymore. He hates how he’s made you feel, without even realizing it, but he never expected you would actually like him back. He’d resigned himself to the fact that, in his mind, you didn’t have any feelings for him nor would you ever. He’s used to it but for some reason it hit harder when he thought it was you that would reject him.

So he never said anything. He treated you normally, as normally as he could when he thought you were so perfect, but it seems like he's made a mistake. He’s made you think there’s something wrong with the way you look, when it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Nami has heard it so much from him she’s started rolling her eyes while Sanji nearly cries to her about how much he adores you.

No, how much he loves you. He’s not told anyone else, only Nami, making her concern3d the moment she notices you avoiding and ignoring him. Once she gets Sanji to tell her what happened, she’s so close to smacking him upside the head for being so stupid.

“Of course she’s upset, you’re an idiot!”

Nami spends the better part of her afternoon berating Sanji, who cant even argue with her and just nods in agreement to everything she says. She stops him before he can even ask for ideas on what to do so he can make it up to you.

“No, you’re doing that yourself this time.”

It takes him most of the day to decide what he could do, what he could say, so it surprises you when he finally shows up after dinner that evening. He’s not looking you in the eyes, but he has your favorite flowers with him, it makes your heart ache a bit, believing he’s done this to every girl he’s ever upset in the past so you don’t move to take the flowers. You’re trying to stop your feelings, he's making it so hard though.

“Sanji—”

“[Y/N], I’m so sorry I made you feel like you aren’t special to me. I…it’s no excuse, but I didn’t think you’d ever have feelings for me like I do for you so I was trying to distract myself from you,” it starts to make sense, but you still don’t move, you’re not entirely sure you can trust him, “If you never forgive me I deserve it, but…can you give me a second chance? No, that’s not right…let me have the chance to make it up to you, and prove you’re so much more than to me than you think you are.”

You’re both quiet for a few moments, Sanji believes you’re completely done with him while you think it through.

A conflict between crewmates over something is always a possibility, but when it’s due to romantic feelings it feels weirdly worse to you. It feels like you’re letting it take over everything, but you’ve had these feelings for so long that you aren’t sure they’ll ever go away, even if you are trying to stop it. You still want to be his friend if nothing else, though it almost seems like he may want something more.

That’s something to discuss later.

Sanji starts to feel like things will get better when you reach out and take the flowers, not looking at him even when he looks up at you.

“…you can make my favorite dessert to start…and explain yourself better.”

The grin on his face makes you smile just a little bit in return, as Sanji nods and takes your hand to bring you to the kitchen.

“I’ll start right away while you put those in water! I’ll make you whatever drink you want too!”

“That sounds nice, Sanji…”

Before you get too much farther, Sanji stops and pulls you into a hug that you return.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t special to me…you mean more to me than anyone else in the world.” You’re going to choose to believe him, especially when Sanji goes the extra mile to make sure you know how much he loves you.

[bones4thecats]

When Their S/O Is A Member Of Tenjiku

Type of Writing: #3 - Poll Result Characters: Izana Kurokawa, Kakucho, Shion Madarame, and Hanma Shuji Name: When Their S/O Is A Member Of Tenjiku Original Poll Link: Here

A/N: I have a massive headache rn, and my classes are kicking my ass... thankfully I can still write though! Ha! Fuck you math!

Spoilers for: Tenjiku Arc

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🎴 You and him were fairly similar when it came to your lives

🎴 Years ago, you both had met at his orphanage, since your parents were getting troubled with raising you, they had no choice but to leave you in their care

🎴 Due to this, you, him, and Kakucho, all grew up creating this kingdom you imagined, one that you guys named Tenjiku

🎴 The two boys and you trained for years together, growing similar styles of hitting and kicking, you guys all banded together after leaving that old place and grew to make your dreams real

🎴 Now, just because you are a founding member and are hailed as the '(Ruler) of Tenjiku', that doesn't stop your boyfriend from being protective

🎴 If Izana is as obsessed with you as he is with getting revenge on Mikey, you better believe you're going to be far from in danger

🎴 Whenever a fight emerges, Izana would pledge to put his own life in danger to protect you, and he did once

🎴 During the fight of Tenjiku vs Toman, hearing the sound of him ordered Kakucho dead made you leap into action, grabbing Kisaki's gun and pulling it away to order one of your personal followers to destroy it

🎴 While Kisaki was about to stab you, Izana kicked him away while ordering Tenjiku to flee, saying the fight was over, due to the alert of police arriving

🎴 You're a strong fighter, yes, but, much like with most of the Tokyo Revengers characters, he will still be protective over you

🎴 He also loves looking at you in the uniform, it was very close in appearance to his, though, yours was slightly longer with the coat and your pants were a hint tighter

🎴 Izana also enjoys to fight with you by his sides, the only time he'll ever not be protective over you is when he knows that you can whoop your enemy's ass, and most of the time, you do

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🍂 He is far looser when it comes to being protective over you

🍂 If you can handle most of the members of Tenjiku, you can definitely handle yourself against other gang members that try attacking you

🍂 Kakucho and you grew up best friends with Izana, from the moment you got out of the orphanage to the day you created Tenjiku, you were always beside your friends

🍂 Unlike Izana, Kakucho trusts you when you jump into a fight, you know your limitations better than anyone else ever could, it was your body after all

🍂 Now, more like Izana, he does like seeing you in the uniform, especially when you would slap on his jacket above your own to prove you could handle it when fighting

🍂 He obviously play-fights with you, and it makes every passerby's heart melt seeing two of the strongest members of Tenjiku mess around like a love-struck teenage couple, which you kinda are

🍂 If anyone gives you trouble, such as Ran or Rindou, he always jumps in, despite your protests

🍂 Whenever you guys get into fights, he tries keeping an eye on you no matter where he is

🍂 He may drift a hint farther away from you than intended, but, he always, always, has an eye on you, whether it be from one of his followers or from his own self

🍂 After he got injured at the Tenjiku vs Toman fight, you visit his hospital room to help him heal his emotional trauma, after all, watching your best friend sacrifice himself for you, nearly dying yourself, and seeing your S/O get injured from being stabbed and shot in the leg for escape isn't pleasurable

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🌪️ With Shion, everyone is scared how you're with this guy

🌪️ He's literally called 'Mad Dog' because of how bloodthirsty and mind-driven insane he is! Many wonder what the hell you found attractive about him

🌪️ Unlike Shion, you were an angel, you would help the injured members after a fight, since you rarely ever had to jump in to rescue any, and when you did, you would just throw a distraction in

🌪️ Perhaps that's why he first noticed you, you were so graceful with your attacks while he was more blunt and rough

🌪️ Shion is extremely possessive and protective of you, the only feeling this guy has ever had for years of being a delinquent was a thirst for blood and complete anger

🌪️ Whenever you end up fighting, he gets himself out of his own ordeal to get the guy attacking you down, you were his top priority to keep safe, he could care less about himself

🌪️ Speaking of which, because of that motto, he gets injured constantly

🌪️ For an example, when you guys were arrested after watching Izana die and Kakucho get wheeled off to the hospital, you guys would try sending letters to one another, or try talking while in juvie

🌪️ Even while you're in juvie, he gets into fights to make sure all the other members know you're his and nobody else's

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☠️ Crazy hot duo? Crazy hot duo.

☠️ Hanma is described as an adrenaline junkie, and whenever asked, you would describe him with these main terms; chaotic, flirty- yet caring, a definite adrenaline junkie, and a solid protector

☠️ You have been involved with Kisaki's plans ever since Hanma was, since you were just as good of an ally as your boyfriend was

☠️ Being involved with those plans put you in a ton of danger, and, despite Hanma giving you the option of leaving after each checkpoint, you denied him

☠️ You were there when Baji joined Valhalla, you were there watching from the nearby roof as Kisaki killed Emma, you were even there when the Tenjiku vs Toman assault began

☠️ As Hanma grabbed Kisaki and drove away, you followed, hidden away from Draken and Takemichi on their own bikes, making sure you weren't getting caught by the police like your old allies

☠️ Watching as the bike crashed, probably due to Kisaki's panicking, since, if Takemichi and Draken take him and Hanma down, they could be in jail for a while, oh who am I kidding? Probably for life, they did kill Mikey's sister and plan other things, after all

☠️ You noticed that Draken's bikie wasn't nearby so you stopped yours and began to sneak where Hanma and the braid-wearing blonde fought

" Hanma? Hun, you there? " " Either it's me or I've possessed some else's body. "

☠️ Chuckling as you turned the corner, you covered your mouth and kneeled to help him up, whipping the blood from his forehead with a cloth you carried, you giggled lightly as he cocked an eyebrow

" What's so funny, ya' like seeing your boyfriend injured or somethin'? " " Not really, but I cannot lie when I say this, you're hot with blood on you. " " I don't look hot without blood on me? " " Lord, here we go again... "

[sunfyresrider]

You’re the best part of me

Aegon II Targaryen X Fem!Reader

Synopsis: The beginning of your secret relationship with Aegon proved why you need to stay with him for the rest of your life. TW: forbidden relationship, daddy kink, smut, watersports, virgin!reader, Aegon isn’t the best influence but he can show you a good time. AN: Too lazy to proof read or edit. Part one of two, best smut I’ve ever produced if I say so myself. May or may not finish tomorrow depending on if my inspiration to write returns.

Most believed being a princess was filled with days of excitement and adventures no one else could comprehend. They had choices and power unlike anyone else who shared their gender. Except, those who assumed that were all tragically incorrect. Being a princess meant you rarely left your castle, you must obey everything others tell you, you had no faculty since you lacked a cock.

It was dreadfully boring and each hour seemed to stretch on for days. However as you aged you gained one unlikely companion that made your days seem less droll. Aegon, your uncle, was not as bad as he may appear to others. Yes, he drank a bit much and scoffed at his duties more than others but he, like you, was still young.

He was the only one who joyfully kept you entertained and filled your life with some adventure. Aegon played games with you, let you join in on pranks, took you to explore the city streets and actively helped you escape septa lessons. He was by far your favorite person and truthfully your only friend.

It was easy to speak to him, as if he were the only one who truly understood your feelings. At this point he probably knew everything about you and how your mind worked exactly. It was not one sided affection, you knew as much about him.

Tonight was one of the rare times you both decided to escape the keep together. Aegon had adorned you with the shabbiest clothing he could find and a little hate to hide your identity. Everyone in Flea Bottom knew him by now so there was little point in disguising himself.

Your destination? The one place Aegon swore to never allow you to go to. You’ve never seen a brothel before and you would be lying if it didn’t pique your interest. Besides, Aegon was the only one you trusted enough to take you anywhere. You quickly undid the bundle of clothing gifted to you, "Wait outside while I dress." He cocked an eyebrow, "Are you being shy, Princess?"

"Aegon,” You warned him. He put his hands up in mock surrender and disappeared into the dark corridor of Maegor's tunnels. You quickly stripped your dress away, discarding it onto the floor. Cautiously, you tiptoed into the tunnels, holding onto the walls to feel your way in the darkness.

You called out to Aegon, who did not reply. It became increasingly eerie the farther you walked inside, especially since most of the torches were blown out and the walls were covered in cobwebs. You creeped forward, slipping when the wall opened up to another hallway. "Boo!"

You squealed, backing hard into the right wall. The sounds of Aegon’s chuckles echoed within the vast hallways. "You aren't funny!" He snatched your hand and began the descent to Fleabottom, basking in your annoyance. The specific exit you used led to Fleabottom, or at least close to it. It was an alleyway filled with muck and excrement but was the best place to go when someone doesn’t want to get caught.

Luckily, the stench of cow shit and rotting waste slowly dissipated as you got close to the main busting streets within the city. As always, the streets were filled to the brim with people from all walks of life. Your favorites were always the citizens from Tyrosh, with painted hair and unusual hats dancing in the street.

Aegon wrapped an arm around your shoulder in a protective manner, pulling you into him. You attempted to work yourself out but his grip was insatiably tight. "Uh uh, no running away in this area. Men will descend upon you like moths to a flame if I let go." You gave up on trying to escape, besides his body provided much needed warmth.

As the journey continued the music rang louder in their ears. The kind only drunken bards would play in the late hours. You began humming along to the tune, your feet becoming jittery with the urge to move. Aegon loathed dancing and you knew it, but he would never say no to you. "I want to dance!"

He shouted back over the noise, "I can't dance!" You shoved his body away from you, grasping his hands. "That wasn't a request, Twas’ a demand!" You spun him in a circle, twirling every so often. His face turned a bright shade of red, his feet tripping over themselves. The sounds of your laughter reverberating in his ears.

Aegon could watch you like this forever, red faced, blinding smile, and not a singular care in the world. It was a minuscule moment in the grand scheme of things but it would be one that never left his head. Seeing you enjoy the life bestowed on you so easily, It was the only thing he looked forward to anymore.

However, there were other things that would bring him enjoyment tonight. Acts that would never leave his brain even in his dreams. So, he entertained you with several more songs. Let you drag him as you prance around the cobbled square. Allowed you to step on his toes and nearly run into other couples so long as you remained happy.

But as your breath became heavy, and your steps began to slow. When you began to lean into him more than what was deemed appropriate and your excitement deemed. Aegon decided it was time to take your leave.

He tugged you closer to him, leaning to cup your ears. "I think it's time we get out of here,” he shouted into your ear, voice barely audible over the instruments. "I'll follow your lead, my Prince"

The journey to the other side of town was short, however the people around you became more conspicuous the farther you went. The smallfolk looked more rugged and the number of men increased indefinitely. All the women were inside windows, hanging out and hollering incoherent sentences.

This was the beginning of the Street of Silk, and the end of your night. The women wore less clothing and their bodies were far bustier than that of regular peasants. Dare you say they were becoming prettier the farther in you traveled.

Aegon’s grip was unbelievably tight, and his eyes rarely roamed anywhere but you. You failed to understand previously why he adorned you with boys clothes, now you were getting a hint. Anyone who remotely resembled a girl was immediately glared at like they were prey. You hoped the place you were going was far less… uneasy feeling.

The building with the red door was on the far end of the street of silk, the patrons became fewer and fewer the closer you approached it. Seemingly, he took you to the most private place on the entire road. Aegon’s grip lessened as he knocked on the door thrice.

An older woman, with breasts falling out of her chemise opened the door. Her eyes scanned over you both, a curious look plastered across her face. “One room in the back," he deadpanned. Aegon tossed her a bag of coins, overpaying her by the look on her face. “Of course, my prince…” She paused, glancing over you twice more. “…And princess.”

The inside was decorated almost elegantly, the women wore more clothing made out of expensive silks, dyed with colors from Tyrosh. It was far more clean than what you assumed a whore house to be, “What is this?” Aegon appeared aloof to his surroundings, “The most expensive brothel you’ll ever enter, reserved for those who want to avoid prying eyes and fuck virgins instead of experienced whores.”

Your face twisted in disgust, “No need to be so crude.” The woman with black hair stopped at a room at the end of one of the vast hallways, dropping the key into Aegon’s hand before taking her leave. A few of the other workers glanced by as they walked past you, your ears ringing with the subtle noises coming from the various rooms around you. “I didn’t mean to be crude, it’s just the truth. Would rather take you here than a place covered in filth.”

Aegon was partially lying, you probably wouldn’t have minded witnessing it all but it would be a cold day in the seven hells when another man was allowed to gaze upon your nude form. “How thoughtful of you,” the door opened to a room illuminated gently by candles. The windows were covered with red silks and the bed appeared completely unused. It almost looked comfortable.

You walked around the room,carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. You gently bounced on it once, testing for stability. Aegon did not wait, he locked the door and pulled the blinds closed, plunging the room in a darkness only the few candles could help.

You felt Aegon kneel in front of you, a small piece of fabric sliding against your legs. His head began to rise up, resting against your thigh. You shuddered, "What are you doing, Aegon?" He stared up at you with those beautiful large blue eyes. "Waiting for permission, princess.”

Your face began to heat up, you shifted in your seat, trying to hide the growing arousal in your pants. You stuttered over your words, “I- I think I am ready." Aegon knelt upwards, sliding his hands up your body to cup your face. Your breathing quickened as you felt him move closer and closer, until he pressed a kiss against your lips.

Your eyes slowly closed, awkwardly you tried to move your lips with his, following his movements closely. Aegon smiled against your lips, his hand sliding down your body, down your stomach, until he reached the front of your breeches. “Don’t be nervous,” he hummed in a seductive tone you didn’t believe he possessed. “Just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Aegon’s hand slid down to your breeches, slowly unlacing the strings that held them together. He slid them off you with haste, exposing your thighs to the cool air. Aegon licked his lips, his hands sliding against your silky soft skin and thumb grazing over your cunt, sending jolts through your body.

His finger dipped down, sliding along your folds, spreading them as he did. A soft groan rumbled in his throat, "So wet for me already." Aegon’s head dipped down, the sensation of his lips against your core making you squeal.

He began to nip at you gently, using his tongue to trail your slit and collect all your juices on his tongue. He groaned into you, “You taste so sweet, Princess." Aegon began to suck on you gently, using his tongue to part your folds.

You gasped, feeling his fingers rub at your entrance. Your thighs clenched around his head, a new feeling building inside you. “A-Aegon I need to pee,” you squeaked. He dropped a finger inside you, pressing against the soft spongy spot inside you. “Just wait, promise,” he murmured into you.

His tongue lapped against you more fervently, his fingers pressed inside you with ease. "A-Ah, Aegon-" He added an another finger , curling his fingers so they hit your sweet spot perfectly. "That's it, princess,” he groaned, the vibrations from his baritone voice sending shockwaves through you.

Your eyes screwed shut as your body became tense, his fingers working inside you. Your hips twitched, unable to find a rhythm with him as the pleasure built within you. His tongue moved circles around your bud, nibbling at it every so often. The strange feeling inside you began to burst, your legs trembled and your arms struggled to support you. You truly believed you had to pee, "Aegon I-," you cried out, your thighs clamped down on his head.

Aegon’s tongue moved fervently, fingering you with more ferocity. You felt yourself tighten around him, his name tumbled from your lips over and over again as he kept up his pace. His fingers purposely hitting a certain spot repeatedly, the coil inside your core began to unwind. As your orgasm began to crash down over you, your bladder released itself accidentally.

This didn’t remotely phase him in the slightest. Aegon kept his mouth pressed to you, feeling your juices drench his hand. Murmuring praises, “Such a messy girl… Keep cumming for me. Fuck that’s so fucking hot.” Aegon did not let you move an inch, his fingers working you like a puppet as the pleasure sent you into a frenzy.

You collapsed onto the bed, heaving as your heart steadied itself. You were unable to see him through the haze but you could feel him smile against your cunt, kissing your thighs and moving towards you. Aegon crawled on top of you, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

His hands found their way under your tunic, lifting it over your head. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, his lips suckling at your neck. He shifted above you, rolling his hips against yours in a seductive manner. You gasped, feeling his cock press against you.

His lips traveled down to your breasts, teasing the tender flesh with his tongue. Aegon pressed a kiss to your nipple, his hips rolling again. You mewled softly, unable to fight back any moans that escaped you. His mouth sucked on your nipple, nipping it lightly with his teeth.

“Aegon,” you whimpered, growing impatient. He pulled back, cupping your face so you looked directly into his eyes. "Needy for my cock too, Princess?" You nodded lazily, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. He smirked at you, tugging his cock free with his left hand.

His length pressed against your cunt, your breathing became ragged as you stared up at him. Aegon slid his cock along your slit, you could feel the precum dripping from his tip onto you. He continued to tease you, moving it up and down, pressing against you. You bit your lip, whining softly, "Please, Aegon."

"That's not my name," he pressed against you harder, his tip pushing into you. You arched your back, trying to coax him further inside you. “M-My Prince, please,” you whimpered. Aegon clicked his teeth together, teasing your entrance but refusing to go further. “Try again, little girl.” You flushed at the pet name, a mix of arousal and embarrassment flooding your system. You looked up at him, eyes pleading, "Please, Daddy, I want you to fuck me."

“That’s my good girl,” his hips slowly moved forward, his cock slowly stretching you out. Your mouth fell open, eyes screwed shut. You whimpered as he pushed deeper inside you, filling your cunt entirely. Aegon paused, "Am I hurting you? I’ll be gentle." You shook your head, “p-please keep going, daddy.”

You felt him shift, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. His hips moved backwards before sliding back in, your hands gripped the sheets beneath you. Aegon's thrusts were gentle at first, slow and calculated. "Gods you're tight," he growled in your ear. You wrapped your legs around him, keeping him close.

“Beg for it,” he growled into your ear. You moaned softly, not entirely sure what he meant. You pressed your lips against his shoulder, kissing it softly. Aegon stopped moving, his breathing heavy, "Don't play dumb. Beg for me to fuck you harder, Princess." You felt your face heat up at the thought.

"P-Please," you mewled, "Fuck me, Daddy, I want you to fuck me harder." Aegon let out a shaky breath, pulling his hips back so only his tip remained inside you. His hands grabbed your hips, his nails digging into your soft skin. "Better," he huffed, slamming inside you. You let out a yelp, his pace increasing with every thrust.

Aegon pinned your hands behind your head, holding you in place with his right. "Who does your cunt belong to, Princess?" His free hand began toying with your clit, rubbing it in small circles. Your moans and whines increased in volume, "Daddy! I-it belongs to daddy!"

"Louder," his hand was moving faster now, rubbing your bud relentlessly. You couldn't see through the blur of tears in your eyes, his hips slapping against you loudly. "Daddy! My cunt belongs to daddy," you cried out, your voice echoing in the small room. “That’s my perfect little girl,” he slurred.

Your walls began to flutter around him, feeling a pressure begin to build in your core. You squeezed your thighs together, pulling at Aegon. His breath became shaky, his eyes temporarily rolling into his head. "You're going to cum for me, aren't you princess? Cum on my cock like a good little girl, hmm?," he growled into your ear.

Your hands grasped for his, squeezing tightly as the coil began to snap within you. "A-Ah, Daddy-" Your back arched, eyes squeezing shut as the pressure built inside you, "Yes, yes, yes," Aegon's moans were becoming more frequent, his face glistening with sweat. Your legs twitched around him, your walls clamping down around his cock.

"Fuck," he hissed, his thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated. “D-Da- Aegon,” you moaned loudly as a different kind of pleasure washed over you. Your cunt began to spasm around him, soaking his cock with your juices. “Oh gods,” he moaned loudly, his head tilting backwards. You could feel his cock twitch inside you as he began to fill you with his seed. His hips jerked erratically, his fingers squeezing your hands tightly.

Aegon collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. You could feel his heart racing, a mixture of excitement and satisfaction coursing through you. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “I love you," he murmured into your ear.

You paused for the first time tonight, a blush quickly coating your cheeks. You had never expected to hear those words from him, ignoring the fact you just coupled mere moments ago. Your fingers unconsciously combed through hair, pulling him closer to you. "I love you too,” you spoke softly.

He had been with you since the beginning and you never grew tired of him. He was the only one you wished to spend time with, to experience things with, and to sleep with. You smiled sleepily, the realization coming over you, "I love you too."

[shadowuponstorm]

Please Let Me In

After Jean's death shook him to his core, Scott thought he wasn't going to find anyone else who would make him feel the way Jean did. Then Reader proves him wrong when she shows him how much she cares about him and how much love she has for him.

"Guys, what happened? What's going on?" I asked over the intercom in my ear as the kids and I stayed safe at the mansion.

"Jean is gone," I hear Storm's voice come over, making me almost fall to the floor in shock, "She sacrificed herself to save us."

"Oh my god," I muttered as I covered my mouth to stop a sob from escaping my throat so it wouldn't alert the kids, "Is Scott safe?"

"He's on the jet with us, sobbing in Logan's arms," Storm replies as I sighed and asked her if they were on their way back, "No, we're on our way to Washington, but we'll be back soon."

"Okay, stay safe," I said as I heard the com turn off and I hear one of the kids ask from behind me if they got the others.

"Yes, sorry, they got them," I respond with a crack in my voice before clearing my throat, "They should be back soon."

"Miss L/N, are you alright?" Another kid asked before I felt my barrier fall and tears started streaming down my cheeks, "Who died?"

"Jean Grey, she sacrificed her life to save the others," I respond as I hear the students gasp in shock and start crying.

I then felt a tug on the corner of my shirt, grabbing my attention to see a little girl whose mutation I knew detected people's feelings.

"Yes, sweetheart?" I asked while I wiped the tears away and crouched to her level.

"Was she one of your best friends?" She asks as I give it some thought before she mentions, "You're feeling devastated."

"We had our differences, but I wouldn't say she was my best friend. She and I were friends, though," I respond as she tilts her head in confusion before I explain, "Scott is my best friend. I'm devastated for him since he and Jean were together."

"I thought she and Logan were a couple," Another student said as I let out a little laugh and told them Logan had a crush on her, but he knew better to not go any farther than that, "Just like you have a crush on Scott?"

I scoffed and rebut with, "I don't have a crush on him, we're simply best friends."

"Your looks say otherwise," The same student says with a smirk. I rolled my eyes and respond, "Maybe I do, but he was with Jean, so it wouldn't have been right to tell him."

"Well, now you can further your relationship with him," Another student said before someone smacked him upside the head and explained to him how I couldn't because he had just lost his girlfriend.

"Go up to bed, all of you," I commanded as everyone followed my orders and went straight to bed.

After I heard the doors shut, I went to my bedroom and collapsed onto my bed before grabbing a pillow against my chest. I let out a breath as I started sobbing into the pillow.

"The student is right; I can never reveal my feelings to Scott, not after all that happened," I thought to myself while I lulled myself to sleep.

The morning light started shining through my windows, waking me up, and I sat up before focusing my super hearing to hear the hustle of the mansion.

"They're back!" One student shouted as I heard the jet engine coming up as a knock came on my door, "Y/N, they're back."

I got up out of bed and opened the door to say, "I know. My mutation is my hearing, remember?" I exited to go down the stairs into the foyer, which is full of students waiting to see which of their fellow mutants made it home.

"Do you guys mind waiting here for them?" I asked, and the students told me no as I left for outside so I could greet them.

Storm was the first to exit the aircraft, and I looked at her solemnly before I wrapped my arms around her and whispered how sorry I was. She hugged me back and told me Scott would need me more than ever. She started walking toward the mansion with most of the kids behind her. I turned my attention back to the entrance to see Scott come into view, and I could feel his eyes on me through the ruby quartz glasses.

"Scott," I started to say as he walked towards me and wrapped his arms around me tight before he started crying on my shoulder. I looked at Logan over Scott's shoulder to mouth, "Are you okay?"

"I'll survive," Logan mouthed back as I sighed and moved my mouth next to Scott's ear to whisper, "Do you need me to do anything?"

Scott exited the embrace before shaking his head and telling me he wanted to be alone but needed to hug me first. I nodded as Scott walked past me towards the mansion and I hear Logan clear his throat.

"What? Do you want me to get you a beer or a cigar to take the edge off?" I asked as Logan quirked an eyebrow and told me I should've told him, to which I scoffed and said, "There's no way I'm going to tell that man I'm in love with him when his girlfriend just died, Logan. It wouldn't be fair on him."

Before he could get another word, I walked away and returned to my room. I let out a shuttered breath before I wrapped my arms around my midsection.

"Damn it, not another panic attack," I thought to myself as I felt my body start to shake, and I started hyperventilating, "Calm down Y/N, you have got to calm down."

"Y/N," I hear Charles' voice comes through my head, "You need to breathe."

"I-I can't," I whispered as I try to catch my breath, but all efforts were failing.

"Yes, you can; just breathe in and out," Charles said, and I started the exercise that seemed to help me mellow out.

After I took a few deep breaths, my heart rate calmed down enough that I stopped shaking so much.

"Thanks, Charles, I just," I whispered before Charles cut me off with, "You were frustrated about people telling you what you didn't feel comfortable doing."

I got off the floor and started heading to Scott's door before placing my ear on it to hear if he was in there. The sound of sobbing told me he was. I debated knocking, but at the last second, I decided not to and then headed to the kitchen to make him food. I made him something he always said brought comfort: my "famous" chicken noodle soup with grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. After I was finished, I placed the tray outside his door before knocking and heading back to my bedroom.

"I hope it will still bring him comfort," I thought to myself as I listened for him to open the door and grab the tray.

Days passed, and Scott's class was canceled for understandable reasons. He only left his room to go to the bathroom or grab something to eat. Students asked me every day when Scott would be coming back, and I always told them I didn't have the answers. I continued trying to provide any comfort I could because, like Storm said, Scott needed me more now than ever. I was reading a book in the library when I heard something smashing and arguing, getting worried on what it could be, I honed my hearing to the source.

"Leave me alone, Logan," I hear Scott say, and Logan scoffed before saying, "Look, everybody is devastated about Jean, but you don't see anyone else holed up in their rooms about it."

"My situation is different. She was my girlfriend!" Scott shouted as I heard his voice crack, "I have more than the right to grieve like this. I'm never going to find anyone that makes me feel the way Jean made me feel."

"Yes, you have that right, but you're forgetting something. You have another person who makes you feel more than what Jean gave you," Logan reminded as Scott scoffed and said, "If you're about to say Y/N, you're out of your mind."

"I am about to say Y/N, and you know I'm right! That girl is your best friend, your beck and call, the one person you seek out whenever you need something, and don't think I haven't noticed the amount of cooking she's been doing for you," Logan said as Scott told him there's no way I would see him more than a friend, "How do you know if you haven't asked her? All you're doing is speculating-."

Suddenly, the voices cut out, and my ears started ringing, causing me to fall off the loveseat and start screaming in pain. My ears felt like they were actually bleeding, and I felt myself going unconscious from the pain before I could hear someone shout my name as the darkness came.

"Y/N, please wake up. I can't lose you, too," I hear someone whisper as I try to open my eyes and look down to see Scott lying on his head next to my hand. I ran my hand through his hair, catching his attention to look at me as he sighed in relief.

"What happened?" I asked as I looked around the room before Scott told me a mutant was testing how loud they could get, not realizing it could harm me, "Guess I'll have to invest in special headphones."

Scott laughs before saying, "Listen, I want to apologize for being closed off lately-" I cut him off, saying it was okay before he continued, "Please, let me finish. It wasn't right of me to push people away, especially you. It's not okay that I did that to you. Yes, while I was grieving Jean, I should've thought things through."

"I overheard you and Logan," I told Scott as he sighed and took my hand before he asked me how much I heard, "Everything. Is it true what Logan said?"

Scott nodded before speaking. "Logan got tired of me moping in my room, so he demanded that we talk. I'm glad he did, or else I wouldn't have gotten my head straight to realize he was right."

"About Jean?" I asked as Scott shook his head and explained while Logan was right about Jean, that wasn't the main thing.

"Logan was right that you make me feel more than what Jean could give me. You pay attention to small details and even cook up all the foods you know would comfort me. You also provide me with a shoulder to cry on. Your schedule open if I need to get something off my chest," Scott said as I looked at him confused and asked him if Jean did all of those things, to which he shook his head, "She was primarily verbal with her love, whereas you are physical and verbal with yours."

"I- Wait, you knew?" I asked as Scott smiled and told me that Logan was the one to spill the secret, "Remind me to kick his ass at the next workout session. I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Scott asked as he leans in and I told him he shouldn't have found out while grieving, "Y/N, I love you too."

Scott starts kissing me, and I move my arms to wrap around his neck so he can pull me in closer. I pull away and ask him if he really wants to do this, to which he replies he does. He then explains how Jean told him not to let the person who makes him happy slip through his fingers. I smiled before kissing him again and whispering, "Thank you for letting me in."

[inbarfink]

I really just love “Turnabout Reclaimed” as, like, the Big Moment of Phoenix’s Return to the Courts. Specifically because the whole thing in the ending where it’s like

I mean, you know, not 100% literally. It seems like Marlon Rimes did go to jail for a little bit, but it is still thanks to Phoenix presenting Evidence in Court that he got off relatively easy and found his happy ending just a few months after that.

Because, like… As a Murder Mystery, ‘Ace Attorney’ as a series obviously cares about Finding the True Culprit and Bringing Them to Justice - that is the climax and the implicit motivation of like 90% of all AA Narratives… But it’s also very important to me that Phoenix Wright is often much more emotionally involved in the idea of defending innocent people, rather than simply just stopping the bad guys.

Like, obviously this isn’t universal for his character. With the plots of AA cases centering, like I said, on Catching the Bad Guys, there are plenty of times where Phoenix declares or thinks about his desire to Prove the Bastard Guilty….

But it feels like it’s much more common for him to focus on just proving the innocent guilty and saving them from going to jail for a crime they didn’t commit, and it’s just that Proving the Bastard Guilty is the only way to do it within Japanifornia’s Legal System. And he’s not just more likely to think of it in these terms compared to other Murder Mystery Protagonists, but also compared to other Ace Attorney main characters!

Like, this is what being a Defense Attorney means to Phoenix! Between the Class Trial and his life mission to save Miles Edgeworth and the Dahlia Trial and taking on Maya’s defense… it has always been to him not just about finding the Truth or bringing people to justice, it has been first and foremost about helping people, saving those who have no one on their side! This is Phoenix's core value.

(I would say the one AA Character who is just as dedicated to Defending the Innocent above all else like Phoenix is…. Athena, who is also heavily featured in “Turnabout Reclaimed!)

So it only makes sense that his Grand Return will end with a reaffirmation of his ideals. First, through the entire case Marlon insinuates and then states directly that Phoenix cannot save both Sasha and Orla at the same time. He has to choose, the human or the Orca. And Phoenix managing to prove them both innocent is him proving and reaffirming that he really cares about defending everyone who needs his help. And then when he goes out of his way to help out Marlon, to save him from the harsh punishments of the legal system and his own guilt, that just reaffirms it even farther - that Phoenix Wright is a Defense Attorney so he can defend anyone who needs his help.

And it also works interestingly as a mirror to his downfall in “Turnabout Successions”. Like, it seems like Zak hid the Actual Diary Page from Phoenix even though it wouldn’t have just foiled Kristoph’s schemes, it would have helped Phoenix prove him innocent with his hand behind his back…. Because he was afraid that if he was proven innocent in that manner, then his lawyer would work to make sure Valant would be found guilty instead.

He thought that if this trial were to go ‘properly’, then he would have to choose, himself or Valant, he can’t save both at the same time. And indeed, since Kristoph created that Fake Diary Page before he was dismissed as Zak’s lawyer…

It seems like pinning the blame on Valant was indeed his plan. And although Zak sensed (or rather Perceived) his Bad Vibes, he still didn't have full trust in Phoenix either. He hid the true evidence of his innocence and planned the Disappearing Act because that was the only way he could see both himself and Valant going free, he couldn't believe his Attorney would ever fight as hard to prove Valant innocent as well. And these two decisions played an incredibly huge part in Phoenix Wright's disbarment.

So in a way, Turnabout Reclaimed, being another case focused on shows and performances and other ‘murder mystery’ where no one was actually murdered, where Phoenix defends and saves not just two different Defendants but also the ‘culprit’ - guilty of trying to frame someone but not of trying to kill the victim … shows us what would’ve happened if only Zak had put his trust in Phoenix fully and just told him what happened outright from the start. It is not just a reaffirmation of Phoenix’s values, but also a rejection of Kristoph’s dirty tricks and of Zak’s cynicism and lack of trust in Phoenix Wright.

Or basically….

[illegiblewords]

SOME ILLEGIBLE RAMBLES AND REFLECTIONS: MISSING WYLL

Jumping off my last analytical post for BG3, I actually do want to talk about Wyll a little. Wyll has been the companion I've had the trickiest time sorting thoughts out on. I do have thoughts on him, and frankly I want to invite people who are mainly Wyll fans to chime in if they have any observations that I might've missed! I don't know if this is the best way to explain it, but my perspective is if his story were a song I'd say he has the makings of a beautiful one--but there are notes missing. Notes that really, really should be there . I don't know why they aren't there, or if they've been hidden somewhere I haven't found yet.

As usual, longass discussion under the cut.

Here is my understanding of Wyll currently, without grabbing specific quotes.

Ulder Ravegard is his dad, who was a humble blacksmith who rose to nobility through some exceptional effort and personal achievement. Pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps sort of guy, takes pride in being compassionate and dealing with others in good faith. Raised Wyll not to consider himself better than anyone due to his status, but also seems to have imparted a lot of lawful good mentalities tbh. One thing that stood out a lot to me was a line Wyll said in Act III about how as a kid, he used to pretend to kill monsters in the park all the time. When he became an actual monster hunter as the Blade of Frontiers he had the disquieting realization that most monsters in reality are only people, just like him and his friends. This is interesting to me because it was NOT a lesson he got as a kid, and from how Ulder treats Wyll I don't think it's something Ulder is quite comfortable with himself. I'd go so far as to argue that, while Ulder's definition of 'good' is genuinely very good--it doesn't leave a lot of tolerance for anyone outside that. His compassion only goes so far and no farther. He's a little black-and-white in his thinking.

Side note: Wyll seems to treat being Blade of Frontiers like being a two-dimensional hero in a storybook at times. The Act III line where he admits it's all just messy people was so fucking interesting, and I wish there was more examination of the messy morality of trying to fight monsters or even understand what monsters are for him. Being good isn't easy or guaranteed and the most impressive title in the world doesn't prove you're actually a hero. Actions come before reputation.

Wyll was, according to the previous point, raised to be the embodiment of lawful good as Ulder saw it. Be selfless, don't indulge in finery or status, be noble, make sacrifices for the greater good. With that in-mind, I want to point out that for all Wyll doesn't like courtly life he loves to dance as something more aligned to that courtly lifestyle. It's one of the things he has left that continues to give him joy. It's an indulgence.

Wyll, as raised by Ulder, sacrifices his own well-being and future in his pact with Mizora to ensure no one else in Baldur's Gate came to harm. He was also bound in such a way that prevented him from explaining what happened or why. When Ulder saw his son return home with one eye, pacted to a devil, obviously in a lot of distress and struggling to explain something... Ulder's reaction wasn't to trust his son's morality or feel concern for him. Ulder decided to hurl out all history, all individual understanding of Wyll's character, and chuck Wyll out like he was a pure evil aligned monster and always had been. He just assumed Wyll was the embodiment of every selfish, depraved impulse he could imagine and a traitor to every cause he believed in. He also does not change his mind on this unless forcibly shown through the tadpole what actually transpired. He is not willing to listen or consider alternate perspectives, and I'd argue he loved his son as an abstract concept/extension of his own moral beliefs more than as his own person. (And as an aside: given how Ulder reacted to Wyll without even knowing his situation, do you think he would be ready to show compassion to someone like Astarion who has done horrific things to others under coercion?)

Note, Wyll never actually deals with previous point emotionally. He never allows himself to feel anger or grief over the way his own father treated him. He never lashes out at Ulder on his own behalf for not seeing him as a person, for not treating him as a person, for not loving him as a person or as his son. Ulder talks almost casually about having misjudged Wyll. 'Whoops my bad, I might be an asshole'. We're in a game where Astarion kills Cazador and just starts screaming and sobbing on his knees over everything that happened. Why isn't Wyll pissed off that everything he endured ALONE, the realization that his father never really saw or trusted him, was met with 'whoops'? Why isn't Ulder more horrified over what he did to Wyll? The fact that he isn't so much as in the same breath as other characters expressing anguish makes me think he still, STILL does not understand what he put Wyll through as his father. And Wyll having no reaction other than 'yay Dad likes me again :D' doesn't ring true imo. It's possible to love someone but be absolutely furious with or hurt by them. Mizora was not the only one who did Wyll dirty.

Wyll's pact with Mizora in the first place hinged on Wyll not trusting himself to keep Baldur's Gate safe from the cult of Tiamat AND Wyll not considering himself someone also worthy of protection too. Wyll is part of the tradition 'other people's suffering counts but not mine, I exist to be a shield for others'. I don't think Wyll has ever been taught he is also part of Baldur's Gate who should be kept safe. Self-sacrifice under those circumstances isn't an informed choice but like a self-destructive person offering their life up for cheap, when it isn't strictly necessary. First resort rather than last kinda deal.

Unless I've forgotten something, Wyll breaking his pact is framed not only by Mizora but the narrative as Wyll being selfish and deciding his father should die instead of keeping himself bound. The narrative itself doesn't really challenge this idea even if Wyll does successfully save Ulder unbound by his pact with Mizora. In my experience, out of all the cast members I think Wyll is the only one who is framed as possibly a worse person for opting out of the abusive relationship he's in. I really don't think he should be. Healthy selfishness (self-care, self-esteem) is not a bad thing. We have sayings about not setting ourselves on fire to keep others warm. I don't know why Wyll isn't given room to realize, discuss, and embrace this. In addition to everything else I've mentioned it kind of kills the shape of his character arc imo. Wyll starts off selfless to a fault. Having him remain selfless to a fault and continue making the same choices he did at the beginning sets him up for spiritual death as a character, which would make him staying pacted to Mizora fitting to articulate that concept in a way. He didn't 'sin' against or wrong other people to become a devil, but he absolutely 'sinned' against himself by allowing it to continue. It's total self-destruction and it's tragic. But when he breaks the cycle, in canon any degree of selfishness is still narratively condemned. He only gets "redeemed" if he saves Ulder, in the sense that he is still enforced as a selfless person/he is only so good as he is selfless. ADDITIONALLY! He's given a choice between protecting people as Archduke or protecting people as Blade of Avernus but there isn't actually a whole lot of discussion about Wyll's own happiness regardless of others. Wyll isn't given room to feel ugly emotions, anger on his own behalf, or basic self-preservation without the game itself side-eyeing him. Wyll should not have to be a "perfect" and selfless person to be a good and worthwhile person worth protecting.

Like... what bothers me, is that Wyll isn't given room to express or examine anything. He isn't allowed to feel conflicted or angry. He isn't allowed to want for himself. He isn't allowed to be furious with his father or to wonder if his anger at his father (who he still loves) fuels his desire to break his pact with Mizora or if it's just treating himself like he's worth something too. It kind of feels like the narrative itself is dehumanizing Wyll by denying him room to be selfish at all, even when he really needs to be. Even when it would give room for emotional and complex scenes that could resonate.

When I've thought about what kind of romantic partner would be most interesting for Wyll imo, what struck me was it should be someone who is selfish and actually encourages his selfishness a bit. Not in a corrupting way (even if he worries it might be at times) but someone who can encourage some balance in him and vice versa. I don't think Wyll works as a narrative tool to show how nice another character already is or be their trophy boyfriend. As a character, him being imperfect I think is intrinsically important to him feeling real. And guy really does deserve to feel real, you know?

It's been weird, since Wyll approaches some of my absolute favorite themes as a character for being a hero who needs to understand not being heroic all the time is okay/heroes need protecting too sometimes. But he doesn't really do anything with them currently as far as I'm aware. That's made it harder for me to engage with him. If his romance route touches on it more like then that's awesome. But I feel like if we could see full character arcs for other companions regardless of romance, it should be doable for Wyll too.

[bayetea]

100 Nights of NejiTen — ;

— — — ( a steamy love story )

summary — ; Neji thought that he and his girlfriend were, if nothing else, always in sync. He comes when she calls, she leaps when he says "Jump." For years, they have known and understood each other intimately. But when a mishap in the bedroom throws them off balance, he is forced to reevaluate his relationship, his perception of Tenten, and the unnerving, illicit desires that he's repressed for his entire life. warnings — ; explicit smut with plot and lots of feelings | romance | emotional | conflict | idiots in love | blossoming sexuality | sexual tension that will make you want to tear your hair out

a/n note: [ this chapter is steamy, but non-explicit. I consider it fairly tame. the next chapter on ao3 is decidedly not. minors dnr/dni. you have been warned. ]

Chapter 1 - Kissing

Contact.

Low lights shaded the dips and dimensions of their faces and the shadows fluttered in reverence of the moon, peeking through the curtains like a voyeuring white lantern. Breaths floated in the air, their loving whispers adorned by helpless little grins. Peck, peck, peck, heated quick kisses he delivered along her jaw, his lips at her neck, diving for the grooves of her collarbone to which she sighed and giggled.

Her hand surfed through his waterfall of silky dark hair, the other caressing his smooth toned arm, but then she tired of his attention focused away from the one place she really wanted him and touched the underneath of his chin. Fingers lured her lover to look at her face, instead of the rest of her body that followed his descent down towards her bra. Their eyes met.

Even in the dark, Neji could see so much love in those eyes. Pure, genuine love, the once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, the kind that proved the deep connection of every ounce of their beings, of their souls. He recognized this feeling without a shred of doubt, because he had never told nor been told by anyone that they loved him (except for one, a person long in the past) and this feeling was definitely unique. In his chest, his heart radiated a full, attractive warmth, just seeing those doe brown eyes return his gaze and pause, gods , he was so ineffably enamored with this woman. His body yearned for hers before he knew what he was doing.

There wasn't an electric shock or a show of fireworks erupting when they kissed, as this was not the first time—not by a long shot. But it was the first time in such a setting, the first time that kissing her tempted him to slide the strap of her tank top down her shoulders. He wanted to see more of her than he'd ever seen before.

Tenten was the one to deepen it. She let her back fall to the bed and clung to the soft fabric of his shirt, causing his body to fall with her. Supporting himself on his arms, Neji hovered over her, eyelids low, breathing softly, holding back a groan when she slid her hand under his loose white shirt and stroked his hard stomach. Her touch was warm and gentle, drawing a slow, deliberate path up to his neck, and she beckoned him closer below. Then, their lips graced each other again.

“Mmph,” she sighed into him, pleasure thick in her moan. Her lips melded with his, an exchange of push and pull with angled moving jaws growing more needy for furthered contact. He liked hearing her moan, it sparked something rare and unfamiliar in his body that he didn’t know could feel so tempting. And… unsatisfying. It wasn’t enough, and he wasn’t sure what more he desired from her or of himself, but he wanted to go farther. Feeling bold, Neji traced his slick tongue across her bottom lip, dyed reddish from kissing, and she shivered deliciously at the foreign new sensation. Blissful hot tidings spread from her delirious head to her curling toes; she opened herself up to him, widely embracing the feverish insistence of his lips onto hers again.

Even he couldn't withhold the heavy groan that escaped him when her tongue snuck past his lips and curled inside, lazily gliding across his own. He trembled. A dangerous desperation festered and swelled within his core, burning away every shred of coherency. Persistently, he motioned his tongue back against hers, creating a simmering hot faint pressure as their tongues lightly pushed and slid so salaciously, feverishly, and he was allowed only two short pants to breathe as he withdrew for air before she tugged on his hair and pulled him back to yearning lips.

Neji hadn’t ever seen Tenten like this. She was all over him, hands roaming his body everywhere she could reach, her eager tongue eliciting more labored groans from his chest. He was still not used to such intimacy, being touched by someone like this. His hips squirmed in the hold of her straddling legs around his lower half. There was that unmentionable discomfort he never cared to acknowledge straining against his boxers and for a very real moment, he felt nervous. She kissed his neck, his collarbone, and licked slow whorls on his chest. The temperature in the room must have risen fifty degrees because his body suddenly felt hot—especially that abhorrent place— and his breath left him in short hot puffs of air. Neji let his eyes fall shut and relished in her sinful adulations, concentrating on controlling that blood-engorged nuisance until soft fingers traveled below his waist.

Her hand was sliding down his pelvis.

His eyes shot open and recoiled from her touch. “What are you doing?”

“Huh...?” Her dazed expression could only be described as lustful and wanting, a sordid line of saliva running down the corner of her lip. “I… Oh, s—sorry!”

Neji didn’t miss the way her entire face blazed red. With lightning speed she removed her searching hand from his groin, profusely sputtering another apology. He closed his eyes again and wordlessly removed himself from her to sit on the edge of the bed. By the sinking of the mattress he could tell that she was sitting up as well, but neither said anything.

Why had he stopped her?

Over a minute must have passed and she reached out for his shoulder. “Neji, I—”

“I should go.” He announced, rising from the bed. “Hiashi-sama will be suspicious if I return to the compound late.”

“Oh…” The disappointment in her voice was tangible. It almost made him want to stay.  “Well… alright. See you tomorrow, Neji.”

She was watching him as he dressed himself, which sounded curiously sordid in his head. It was a conscious decision to not look at her directly, or else those eyes of hers might lure him back to the warmth of her mouth and the feel of her tongue, and he needed to leave as soon as possible, because…

Tenten stuttered just before he reached the door, “If—did I—If I went too far, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

“It’s fine.”

He left her apartment in then and returned (though it felt more like a retreat) to his home, and all he could do was wonder what was wrong with him.

Read the next chapters on AO3, here.

a/n note:

Hellooooo nejiten nation, does anyone remember this fic? I'm posting chapter one here, because I am working on an update! There are 6 more chapters available on AO3 to read right now if you follow through to the above link! Chapter 2 is... a doozy, to say the least. I've received lots of good feedback on it...!

Leave reviews/comments, let me know what you think!

[kawaiichibiart]

Okay, new AU idea based off my current team's costumes on EN:

In this AU, WxS never formed. In fact, they didn't even meet each other (aside from Nene and Rui).

Nene goes to an unnamed school (unnamed because 1) I couldn't think of one, and 2) it doesn't matter in the end) where she's known as the quiet, shy girl, who does nothing but play video games. She's very lonely because of this, and due to her old friend's disappearance earlier that year. No one knows what happened to Rui Kamishiro and many believe he had finally succumbed to a fault in his inventing.

Nene doesn't believe that he's truly gone but she wishes she had a definite answer.

Well, one day, Nene was approached by some of her classmates while she was consumed by her current game. It wasn't until her gaming console was taken out of her hands that she noticed them. It wasn't the first time this has happened and it didn't make it any less frustrating and upsetting for her. It was always like this. She was just a scared little rabbit amongst a class that dubbed themselves wolves. They would take something from her and provoke her until either she cried or a teacher interfered.

Not this time. This time they didn't bother to wait for her tears to falls or for a teacher to walk over and demand the console. Instead they pushed Nene towards the trees of a nearby park. The park had long since been abandoned. It was overgrown with fauna and some even called it a small forest. She was to spend the rest of the day there. Come the end of the day, if she came out, they would give her her console back. If not, well, hopefully she made it back home.

Nene was about to tell to forget it and to just keep her stupid console when one of them shoved her into the bushes. She heard them laughing as they ran off. Just as she got up, she noticed it looked like she went farther in than she believed. The trees seemed taller and denser...it felt eerie despite being rather bright...no matter. She just has to walk forwards and... there were more tree. She just has to continue forwards, her school should just be a few feet...more trees.

She didn't get that far from her school. She wasn't even that far in the park. She was just in front of the first few trees it had. She was pushed in a bush, there was no way she ended up somewhere else. The stories about the park were just that. Stories. Everyone who entered always made it out. So why? Where was she? She couldn't hear the kids from her school or the school's bell. She couldn't see the playground equipment. Where. Was. She?!

Not wanting to get, but also not wanting to stay out, Nene eventually started to walk around. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe her game got to her. Or maybe her emotions were getting to her because of what's been going on.

Nene makes her way through the...forest? Park? She's not sure anymore, when she sees flowers. Bright, colorful, beautiful flowers. For a moment, she thinks she finally made it out. She walks over to them and follows them as they grow and grow. That's when she sees her.

Blue pigtails, pink cat ears, her clothing covered with the same flowers she's been following.

It can't be. This has to be a costume. Right? This can't be... Hatsune...Miku?

Can it?

It is. One tug on her hair and cat ears proves it. Unless she was a very dedicated cosplayer...but...

Whatever, maybe now Nene can get answers. Miku is more than happy to give them to her. She's entered a place known as SEKAI. It's been a while since a human has entered their little world. Miku loves it when people visit and when they like her flowers.

Is there a way for Nene to go back? Go back? Why? Why does Nene want to go back? Does she not like Miku's flowers? No, no no no, it's not that. She just wants to go home.

Well...uh... that's kinda the problem...SEKAI opens and closes at random. It could be hours, days or even months before it opens and allows anyone to enter or exit. BUT BUT BUT!!

Maybe KAITO can help!! He knows more about people being able to come and go from SEKAI.

KAITO?

Yes. KAITO. A warm hearted demon who lives deep within SEKAI.

KAITO is willing to do what he can to help Nene. He can't promise he can get her home soon, but maybe he can see something about shortening her stay. Meanwhile, he's more than happy to let her live with him and his two charges.

Knowing there is no better choice, although she could stay with Miku, Nene takes him up on the offer.

Now, while he works on getting her home, there are more things to know about SEKAI. No one is human here. Well, duh, obviously. No, literally no one is human, if they were human once, they no longer are. Miku is a cat. KAITO is a demon. One of his charges is a wolf, the other a tiger. Years ago, a bear cub* found her way into SEKAI. All three of them were humans once, and all of them had lived long enough to lose their humanity. Only the bear cub left SEKAI as soon as she learned to cloak her new features.

You cannot survive in SEKAI as a human. SEKAI tends to make you lose your mind if you try to stay human. It likes playing mind games with humans. Trapping them and making them go insane. For her safety, she had to wear a disguise.

She might not look that much like a cuddly, fluffy, rabbit, but her cyber-rabbit ears will have to do. How KAITO had them, she didn't want to know.

Since KAITO would be busy looking into a faster way to return Nene home, and Miku had long since left back to her garden, Nene decided to walk around.

While she knew KAITO had two charges, she didn't think she'd run into either of them. She'd hope to avoid them. But since when did she have luck?

She ran into the first as she explored. The wolf before her was tall and had long hair tied in a low ponytail. He was also, as Nene quickly found out, loud.

After they both managed to calm down, he introduced himself as Tsukasa Tenma.

Tenma? Nene was sure she knew that family. Their children went missing years ago and the search for them was stopped by the parents, who had given up. Their son went missing first and his sister followed soon after. Search after search resulted in nothing, so both parents assumed their children would never return (for whatever reason you wish to assume) and called everything off.

Tsukasa tells her it could be a coincidence, he can't really remember anything from before he arrived in SEKAI. But he is surprised she knows he has a sister. His darling sister Saki!! She lives nearby with Luka!

Luka?? As in, Megurine Luka? That Luka?

Yes.

This was getting to be too much. She needed a break. Just, give her a moment.

Deciding the best thing to do was get some sleep, Nene opened a door, and upon seeing the bed inside, went in and collapsed into it.

Maybe she would wake up in her room. Maybe a teacher found her and she didn't realize because she blocked it out. Maybe she would wake up in those bushes again, see her school, and go home and beg her parents to be homeschooled. Maybe this was just a dream inspired by all the games she's been playing and this was a sign that she needed a break....yeah.

Yeah. Sure. Let's go with the "this is all a dream~" theory.

And that's when she hears his voice. His damn voice saying her name. She didn't want to look. It felt like this fueled the whole dream theory.

He said her name again. She didn't look. She ignored him until his hand touched her shoulder. She looked back and saw KAITO's second charge.

Despite the tiger ears on his head, she recognized him. How could she not recognize him?

Rui FUCKING Kamishiro. Her childhood friend who disappeared months ago.

But, how could he remember her? Tsukasa couldn't remember his past, so why did Rui? If...if she had come years later, would Rui have forgotten her?

Well...maybe. Rui had only been there for a few months, he was still adjusting to his new life in SEKAI. He still has memories of things and people from back home.

Tsukasa, on the other hand, as Rui found out from KAITO, had been in SEKAI since he was about 13, he is about to turn 17. He's been in SEKAI for roughly 4 years now, as Miku and KAITO said, he lost his humanity. In his mind, he's always been a wolf. When he arrived, Miku found him and took him to KAITO. To protect him, they gave him the ears of a wolf costume. But when the "doors" of SEKAI opened, he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to go back to an empty home. To parents who were almost never there. To a school where if he was too loud, he was annoying, but if he's too quiet he's a weirdo. The only person he'd miss and who'd miss him was his sister. But in the moment, that wasn't enough to convince him to go home. So, he stayed longer. And longer. And...longer.

And one day, he just, couldn't remember anything of his past beyond having a sister and his own name. The ears of the wolf costume turned into real ones. His appetite changed, his mood changed. But while he is a wolf, it's more like he's a dog. He loves attention and is very affectionate, kinda like a puppy.

Anyways, when Miku brought Rui over, the two boys weren't exactly friends. Since KAITO was trying to help Rui return home, Tsukasa felt like his caretaker was ignoring him. The boys would snap at each other and pick fights over the smallest of things.

[8myass]

.. candles .. pairing. osaki shotaro x female reader genre. fluff, angst pov. second person (you, yours, yourself, etc.) synopsis. when you distance yourself a little too far. wc. 0.9k cw. stalker!shotaro tw. gaslighting, stalking, manipulation, possessiveness, pet name (‘angel’) a/n. first story!! i wanted to get something posted here, so here we are with my sweetie taro :P

You were always the type to distance yourself from people who got too close to you, never allowing anyone to get past the walls you surround your heart with. You were a sweet and sensitive soul, but you’ve been hurt too many times to even think about truly trusting someone else again. You hated when you felt a relationship growing with another person, knowing what came next, and you wound up pushing them away from you before they could get close enough to touch the barriers built around you.

You wanted to find love, you really did. It was just too hard for you. You tried with everything in you to allow people to love you the way you so desperately craved, but it was subconsciously that you found yourself pushing them farther. You were too nervous to say anything about it or apologize to them for being such a bad person, so you never let them know the truth of why you did it. 

When Shotaro came into your life, it was the same. You met him simply at a grocery store, he was a worker who had helped you when your short arms couldn’t reach the top shelf. To avoid having you fall and break something while seeing you climb on the shelf, he offered to help you grab what you were after. You thanked him profusely and eventually managed to give your number after a few more times of seeing him in the store. You could’ve sworn he thought you were stalking him or something, always showing up during the hours he was working, but he never said anything that hinted at him minding your presence ever. You liked him, so when you realized that you were developing genuine feelings for him, you distanced yourself, as always. Only, he was way more persistent than you expected; showing up at your house when you were home alone, being in the store on days he’s off so he could see you, sending you flowers and gifts to your workplace. 

It would be so hard for you to not give in, you wanted to like all these things, but you felt too embarrassed to tell him about your extensive amount of issues causing you to keep yourself out of his arms. Soon, it became too much for him, he wanted to show you how much he wanted you, how much he loved you. If you needed him to prove that, then he would, he did. 

He might’ve come on a little too strong with his “proof”, honestly. Inviting you over to his place, begging you to come over so he could at least have one last talk with you before you completely ghosted him. In the long run, that wasn’t going to be enough for him, but you accepted with a large amount of hesitation, with good reason, too. You went to his house, the driving distance wasn’t that far, but he, of course, knew that, so by the time you were there, he had everything set up and prepared for your arrival. It was a sweet, simple candlelit dinner, more like a date than a “get-together” for “one last talk”. You nearly ran for the hills as soon as you walked through the door and saw the cheesy rose petals on the floor leading to a table for two, roses in the middle, and your favorite meal sitting in front of both chairs on the hard surface. How could he not know your favorite meal? He knew everything about you, silly girl. 

Of course, he convinced you to stay. You took a seat at the chair and the conversation instantly started up with your first words to him being, “What is this for?”

“Are you not hungry?” he followed your question up with a question of his own, pushing past your own concerns to express how his were more important.

He took a spoonful of food from your plate and pushed it past your soft lips. It was good, you’d definitely admit that.

“Did you make this?” 

“I did, do you like it, angel?” he smiled sweetly. That smile was what always dragged you in. As soon as you nodded, it brightened.

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked, pretending your heart wasn’t beating out of your chest already from such simple interactions. 

“I just want to show you how much I love you…” he exhaled deeply, leaning across the table to place his lips against yours gently. His lips moved together with yours so smoothly, it’s like they were made to fit into one another. As you kissed him back, you slowly slipped back into his hands, the hands he thought you never should’ve left. In truth, you should've run as far away as you possibly could’ve, escaped his radar for good, because now that you’re in his life, he won’t let you go. He knew everything about you by this point, all your weak spots, everything that makes you tick, what makes you fall so in love. He wanted to sweep you off your feet and after his years of research, he’s finally found a way to do it. His display that night was all a show, just to make you understand his love for you. You were now his and he wasn’t gonna give that up. Not for the world, not for his friends, not for his family, not for yours, not for himself, and definitely not for your stubbornness.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

I'll Show You Uptight (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Adult!Bakugou x Black!Fem!Reader (Coworkers to Lovers) 

Synopsis: In which a very pissed and very emotionally frustrated Bakugou decides he’s not going to let you get away with your lip that easily and pays you a visit one girls’ night to prove to you that he is, indeed, able to be “looser” after you make a drunk comment about his introverted and uptight personality to your mutual friends and Kirishima “accidentally” spills the beans. 

Story Warnings: Smutty smut (MINORS DON’T READ), 18+, AgedUp!Bakugou (he’s 25 years old), Swearing, Grinding, Public Displays of Affection, Mentions of & Consumption of Alcohol, Consensual Sex w/ Verbalization, Foreplay, Public Kink, Manhandling, Mild Degradation, Praise Kink, Daddy Kink, Spit Play, 69ing, Facefucking, Safe Sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), Edge Play, Spanking, Mild Choking, MULTIPLE Positions, MULTIPLE Orgasms for Reader, Aftercare, Reader is black-coded but anyone can read this 

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you! 

Writer’s Note: GO TOUCH SOME GRASS SLUTS. And enjoy! My hands fucking hurt from writing this horny shit but it's with all the love & dedication. Love you! -Jazz

Ao3 link here!

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

**********

Bakugou luckily didn’t get a ticket, but he came pretty damn close to running some red lights as he shot you and himself home to your apartment. 

During the fifteen-minute drive, you felt bubbly with anticipation and happiness. Bakugou liked you. He felt the same way! You couldn’t keep still next to him, singing and dancing along to the radio as he sped through the streets, wind in your hair, laughing at your cute little moves. 

He kept one hand on the wheel, steering with excellent precision, while the other laid firmly on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh there. Occasionally, he’d lift your hand to kiss your knuckles or steal a kiss at a red light, always leaving you short of breath after. 

As soon as you left the club, you called Mina to let her know and she was more than excited, even letting the rest of the crew know. “She’s not dead, guys!” she yelled above the music over the phone. You could hear Toru cheer in delight in the background, causing you to cover your face in embarrassment. 

“She will be though!” Denki had hollered, stealing the phone from Mina much to her disapproval. “For God’s sake, Katski, don’t kill her! She still has to go to work!” 

You flushed, and to add on to the fire, Bakugou had glanced over from the wheel at you and smirked. “We’ll see,” he murmured before sneaking his hand farther up your thigh to squeeze the flesh there. “Should’ve known better than to wear this little thing, naughty girl,” he whispered to you, a dangerous look in his vermillion eyes. 

You swore you’ve never been more turned on in your life as you thought about what was to come next. Would he punish you for the skirt? Bend you over his knee and spank you till you were in tears? Maybe rub you through your panties until you had no choice but to beg for forgiveness because your poor, needy pussy just couldn’t take any more teasing? 

“Congrats, Bakubro!” Kiri had hollered into the phone, stealing you away from your naughty thoughts. “You’ve got a good one. Try not to fuck it up, alright? Or else you’ll have me to deal with.” 

“Us too!” Uraraka had added. “We’ll fuck you up, Bakugou, and you know we can.” You had giggled at their protectiveness while Bakugou told them to shut the fuck up and threatened to hang up. 

As you got closer to your apartment, you directed him to the building, and he parked in the lot in front of the building’s steps. You lived in a pretty nice neighborhood–the kind with dogwalkers, quiet nights, and where people can jog in the park a block away from your home without looking over their shoulders. You were adamant about being in a relatively safe and quiet neighborhood, especially one where public transportation, is close by, to feel comfortable and get some good night’s sleep before work duties. 

After swiping yourself upstairs on the elevator with your key card, Bakugou followed you upstairs to your apartment floor. He only gave you light neck kisses and dragged his fingers across your waist as you worked to unlock the door with your keys, but it was enough to make focusing on unlocking your door that much more difficult. 

Finally, with a click, the door unlocked. “This is me,” you nimbly said, stepping into the darkened room. As Bakugou slid in behind you, you flicked the light on near the door and shut it, casting your tastefully decorated, clean apartment in a nice, warm glow. “Feel free to take off your shoes.” 

Bakugou did just that, letting his kicks sit at the door with your shoes right next to them. You stood there awkwardly as he looked over the apartment, his eyes trailing over the living room, small dining area and the bedroom which led out into the kitchen. You had brought company back here before for fun, but never this. And definitely never a pro. 

“Uh, would you like a drink or a tour of the place?” you asked softly, your heart pounding against your ribcage. Bakugou turned toward you, his gaze making you hot. “I’ll get all of that later,” he softly growled. “This can’t wait. I don’t think I could take it.” 

As he stepped towards you, moving as fast as you could blink, you didn’t move, afraid of scaring him off or possibly ruining the moment. You welcomed him with open arms as he gladly took advantage, arms locked around your waist. He pulled you in for a kiss that had your head spinning and tongue-tied. His kisses were like drugs to you–addictive and dangerous. 

He pulled away to look down at you, his eyes peering into yours. “You still want this?” he asked. 

Feeling his muscles ripple under your hands, his body pressed against yours finally, only one word flashed in your mind that made it to your lips: “Yes.” 

Bakugou grinned and gripped you to him as he kissed you once again. Your lips moved against his in a dance, the act as natural as breathing to you. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you moaned softly into his mouth, the feeling of his tongue against yours making you uncomfortably soaked. “Bedroom,” he murmured roughly against your lips. “Where’s it at?” 

He pulled away enough to let you speak. “I’ll show you,” you whispered, but you couldn’t physically walk him upstairs. He insisted on carrying you, making you jump before his hands were cupping your ass and your legs were wrapped around his waist. He carried you with ease, like you weighed absolutely nothing. God, could this man get anymore sexy? 

You directed him to the left of your kitchen where your bedroom was, passing the front door. As he did, you suddenly became hyperaware of everything in your room that was embarrassingly out of place or obvious: the hamper of clothes next to your closet you needed to wash; the wine glass you forgot to take to your kitchen earlier while you were getting ready; the waste basket of folded laundry you still hadn’t put away where your limited edition Dynamight panties sat. 

….Wait. 

‘Fuck!’ you thought, embarrassment flooding through you. You forgot you put them there. Shit, did Bakugou see them too? You glanced down at him, getting a smile in return. You put you down so he could go and close the door. As he did, you snatched up the panties and stuffed them under a folded shirt, never to be seen and allow you freedom from humiliation or teasing. 

Immediately, you whipped around to face Bakugou, plastering a smile on your face. He turned to you after closing the door and smirked at you–a picture of a wet fantasy standing in your bedroom. How you’ve thought of this night for so long. “I’m afraid you’re wearing waaaay too many clothes,” you purred at him, stepping closer to him. 

He did the same, his hooded eyes drinking you in. “You too. As good as you look in that dress, I need to see you without it.” His smile faded, replaced with a stern look that has your kitty purring for him. “Take it off. Now.” 

That deep growl emitted something from you. Something submissive and needy, wanting to do anything he said. You immediately strip off your dress, letting the article of clothing fall from your body. You stood then in a lace bra and thong set that Bakugou ogled at. “Oh, fuck,” he moaned at the sight of you. “Look at you. You were wearin’ this shit under your clothes the whole time?” 

He loomed over you, making you feel so small yet not at all intimidated. If anything, it made you more aroused. “And what’s this, huh?” His fingers glide across the waistband of your thong, his skin brushing against yours. His eyes darkened, his grin greedy and animalistic. “Ohhh, you’re a bad little girl, aren’t you?” 

His breath fanned over your face, smelling faintly of peppermint and a shot of vodka. You must’ve been too slow to respond because his fingers yanked at the thong’s waistband, snapping it back against your hip. “Aren’t you?” he growled, his voice dipping even lower than before. 

You swallowed hard, breathing suddenly impossible for you. “Y-Yes.” He pushed himself up against you, giving you a feel of his bulge in his jeans. “Yes, what?” he murmured against your hair, hands cupping your ass. He grinded his hips into you once, nudging at your clit. 

You whimpered as sparks of pleasure pulsed through you. “Yes…daddy.” Bakugou pulled back to peer down at you, bewildered. “Sorry!” you immediately raced to apologize. “I thought that you–” 

You squeaked as he suddenly grabbed you and planted a passionate kiss on you that had your toes curling as his tongue twirled with yours. When he pulled away, a string of saliva “Keep callin’ me that,” he growled to you. “That turns me the fuck on.” He took your hand, putting it right on his hardened dick. You gasped softly, feeling how big he was. “Tell me what else you like,” he said, sounding like he was begging you rather than ordering you. 

“U-Um…” Your frazzled mind searched for an answer as your hand gently stroked him through his pants, loving the way he softly groaned at the feeling. “I like praise,” you giggled sheepishly. He chuckled, squeezing your ass. “I can tell.” 

“And spankings and choking,” you continued. Shyly, you looked down at his belt buckle and toyed with it, “accidentally” loosening it. “And if you wanted to…you know…call me a slut or whatever, I wouldn’t be against it.” 

You peered up at him through your lashes, hoping he’d see through your front. Fortunately for you, Bakugou was smart. He stepped away from you then and took a seat on your bedside. He sat with his legs open, belt loosened, and a dangerous look in his eyes that excited you. “C’mere,” he demanded, crooking a finger at you. 

You were helpless to refuse. You slowly walked over and stood in front of him. He took your hips in his hands, directing you to stand beside him, and then, in a flash, had you bent over his knee. You gasped, a shocked giggle leaving your lips at the sudden change in positions. Before your mind could process what was happening, your thong was coming down and a hand was smacking against your ass. 

The only sounds were the sharp smack of Bakugou spanking your ass and your sharp gasp that followed. 

Smack! “Tell me why you decided to wear this shit,” he growled. Smack! “Did you want to get fucked?”

Smack!” You wanted a random motherfucker to pick you up and slut you out?” Smack! “Huh?!” Smack! 

“Yes!” you shouted, in near tears because of the sweet sting of his hand smacking your ass and the ache in your wet pussy. “But I would’ve thought of you during!” You nuzzled your face into his muscled arm after gripping it with dear life with each spank. 

“Oh, my God, you’re just too perfect,” he groaned. His hand began to stroke your ass softly, soothing the sting. “Tell me again how you’ve thought of me, baby girl.” The petname set you on fire. “Did you think of me while someone else was fucking you? Or while touching that pretty little pussy?” 

You whimpered at his words, not sure how much more of this you could take. You softly moaned as you felt him shower your ass with wet kisses, his fingers massaging your cheeks gently. “Tell me, mama,” he whispered. 

And then his hand dipped between your thighs to cup your sex. He began to rub you there, palm pressing into your clit. “Y-Yes!” you groan, delirious with pleasure. “God, yes, Katsuki!” You grinded your hips into his hand, desperate to feel something, anything. 

“You’re not alone, y’know,” he murmured to you as he continued to gently rub you. “I’ve thought about you too. Fucking you on my desk at work, your pencil skirt pulled up…or you in my condo, getting fucked on every single piece of furniture I own.” 

Your breath hitched at his words, at his secret, dirty thoughts. All revolving around you. You. “I’ve thought about you constantly,” he told you, voice strained. “I’ve wondered what you felt like against me…what you tasted like…” 

In an instant, you were off his lap and suddenly lying on your back on your bed, facing him. He sat up, straddling you, and in one shift motion, gripped his shirt from the back and took it off. As he flung the shirt somewhere in the darkness, you couldn’t help yourself. You began running your hands up and down his muscle carved from stone, loving the contrast of your skin tones. He stared down at you hungrily, lustfully, as you caressed the scars adorning his skin. To you, they made him even sexier. 

“You see what you do to me?” he asked softly. “What you’ve done to me?” He took your hands, lowering them down to his hardened cock in his jeans. He began to rut into your hands, panting softly. “Do you like me like this? So fuckin’ desperate for you?” 

“Katsuki…” You exhaled in name, desperate for him. You went for his belt to take it off, but he stopped you. “No, no, baby, not yet. Naughty girls like you need to be punished first.” With an evil smile, he hooked his fingers into your bra cups and pulled them down, exposing your naked breasts to him. His shuddering breath made you giggle, feeling pretty under his hungered gaze. 

His mouth was on you immediately, lips sucking harshly at one hardened nipple while one of his large hands kneaded the other, gently molding the flesh around and around. You moaned under his touch and hot kisses, your breasts and nipples sensitive. He then pulled away from your own nipple now shining with his spit and proceeded to give your other nipple the same treatment. 

He attached his pink lips to the peak, sucking and swirling his tongue around, moaning softly as he did. He was loving every minute of this, you realized, and that only made you wetter. His lips suckled on your nipple like he was trying to draw himself some milk before letting go with a soft pop!. He then grazed his teeth against the hardened nub, nibbling gently. A whimper left your lips at the feeling, your toes curling and hands gripping his shoulders. 

The tiny pinch of his teeth grazing your hard nipple made your body lurch forward. “Ah,” you breathed, the sound like an exhale escaping your lips. He then swooped down higher up, pressing kisses to your collarbone and neck while his hands still toyed with your breasts. He then looked up at you, eyes glinting in the darkness. “Sorry, ma,” he chuckled, “but you might have to wear some makeup on that neck for the next week.” 

He began to suckle and nibble at the tender flesh of your neck, giving you certified hickies. You couldn’t be mad at him. It felt too good. As if reading your thoughts, he chuckled against your skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.” As he proceeded to pepper your neck in kisses, one of his hands left your breast to travel down between your thighs. 

You gasped, your back arching at his rough palm pressed into your clit and began to stroke it. You moaned loudly to the ceiling, the sparks of pleasure entering your clit combined with Bakugou’s wet mouth and rough fingers pinching your nipple. This was just too much! At this rate, you’d cum. “Please don’t tease me, baby,” you whimpered. 

Bakugou chuckled darkly, still torturing you with his actions. “Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it?” he murmured, moving to kiss your jaw. “Consider this your karma for your constant teasing at work.” His lips moved down your throat, nibbling you there. “Those damn skirts.” His index and fore fingers moved to roll and pinch your nipple. “Those fuckin’ work pants.” He pressed his hand harder into your clit, making you see stars for a moment. “And those pretty little blouses I wanted to tear off your body.” 

Suddenly, all his actions stopped. He pulled his hand away from your pussy, moved his mouth away from your neck, and stopped playing with your nipple. Confused and utterly horny, you watched as he slinked down to your legs and pried your thighs open with his big hands. He stared at you between the V you made with your thighs, his crimson eyes glaring dead at you. “How the fuck are you so fine?” he asked. 

He didn’t warn you when he suddenly began eating you out. And God, did he know how to eat pussy! He left no part of your pussy untouched, kissed, or sucked. He alternated between swirling around your clit with his tongue and gently sucking on it with his plump, pink lips. You were seeing stars at that moment, hands moving to his head to push him in deeper.

“Katsuki, oh, my God!” you shouted, unable to keep your voice down. “Yes! Please keep going!” 

Bakugou was more than happy to. He even snuck his hands under your ass to give him better access to your cunt as he lapped at your juices joyfully and greedily. When he suddenly pulled away to breathe, his lips were coated in you Instead of embarrassment, all you felt was arousal flooding through you. Then, to your amazement, you watched as spat on your pussy and then slurped it back up, nudging your clit with his nose as he did. 

At the sound of your moans and cries of pleasure, he grinned at you from between your thighs. “Like when I spit on it, babe?” he asked, and then laughed at your frantic nod, bewildered “Fuck, you’re nasty.”

You scoffed, sitting up a little straighter against the pillow. “And you’re not?” 

His eyes held a promise for something bigger, better than before, and you shivered. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” As he went to dive back in for another lick, you felt his cock pressing against your inner thigh and your mouth ached for it. 

“Wait!” you protested. He immediately stopped, confused. You slowly sat up against the pillows, chest rising up and down rapidly and heart pattering against your chest. “I wanna taste you too.” His eyes widened an inch, giving you the confidence to continue. “I’ve been wanting to suck the soul outta that dick for months. Don’t deny me any longer or I swear, I’ll kill myself.” 

He still stared you down, looking at you like you just grew five heads, and then finally broke into a grin. “Fuck,” he laughed. “Baby girl fiendin’ for some dick, is she?” You nodded frantically, your eyes falling to his hands as he went for his belt. “Well, if you wanna be that needy…” 

“Wait.” You stopped his movements, your hands cupping his. “Let me.” He was more than happy to let you have your way. He sat up straight on his knees as you worked at his belt, loosening it, and then popping the button. Then the zipper came down, the sound of it sending shivers down your spine. It was a sign of what was soon to come. What was soon to be within your grasp. 

You shrugged Bakugou’s jeans down his slim hips, revealing the well-defined V and dark blonde curls that that traveled down beneath the waistband of his Calvin Klein briefs. “Don’t stop now, baby,” he chuckled, a lazy smirk on his face as he watched you. “You’re almost there.” 

Under his molten gaze, you pulled his briefs down, just enough to let his cock spring free. You had to stop yourself from gasping at the sight of him: he was beautiful. He was the right size, right shape, with a curve you felt was built just for you. He was thick too with a vein protruding from the tender flesh that you wanted desperately to run your tongue against. The pink head bubbled with precum that you resisted the urge to lick away. 

He smiled at you. “There you go,” he cooed encouragingly. Then, before you could get a response out, his hands were on you and suddenly rolling you over on top of him. You shrieked with laughter as he positioned you to be facing away from him, instead facing his hardened cock that stood at attention for you between his legs. “Katsuki!” you giggled once you were settled on top of him. 

Bakugou laid his hands on your ass, spreading your cheeks apart. “Perfect,” he murmured. “Now I get the best seat in the house. This 3D is fantastic, y’know.” He spanked you, the sharp sound of it making you whimper. You looked back at him, snorting at the way he ogled at your ass and pussy. “You dork,” you giggled only to be cut off with a whine as he began to rub your clit. 

“Shhh, baby,” he cooed. “I’m tryin’ to watch the movie.” You threw your head back as his sweet assault on your sensitive rosebud continued. “You’re so annoying–oh, fuck!” His tongue sneaked inside your pussy, licking you up and down, side to side, all around. 

Honey. If you said to your girls later on that Bakugou took your ass downtown, you’d mean it. He took you down each avenue and street, and back again, gripping your ass as he did. You were seeing stars that had his name imprinted on them, his name falling from your lips in gasps, moans, and whines that sounded oh-so submissive to the lovely man eating your kitty. 

Just as you began throwing your hips around on his face, he stopped and glared playfully at you. “Don’t just sit there,” he growled impatiently, turning your blood hot. “You wanted that dick, right? So do something with it before I do it for you.” 

How could you say no to that? Spitting a good amount of spit into your dominant hand and then onto his dick (much to his liking), you began to slowly stroke him up and down. You quickly became mesmerized by the way his skin stretched from your movements and how you had to grip his cock with both hands just because he was so damn thick. Once you got your rhythm, you hollowed your cheeks and began sucking him, careful to not graze him with your teeth. 

Katsuki seemed to love it though. He gave you the nastiest praise and stroked your back lovingly as you gave kitten licks around his cockhead before sucking him from the tip. “That’s it, good girl,” he groaned. “Fuck, that feels good! How are you so fuckin’ good at this?” 

His toes curled on either side of you, making you want to go deeper. You wanted to please this man more than anything, and so you did. You began to lightly gag on him, not quite taking him deep but enough to feel him in your throat. Anything you couldn’t take into your mouth you stroked with your hands, gripping him securely. Saliva dripped and drooled from your wet mouth, coating his dick and dripping down his full balls. The wet, slick sounds of your hands stroking his wet dick and your light gagging sounds drove even yourself crazy. Bakugou was losing his fucking mind though, every sound from his lips a piece of heaven. 

“Fuck, Y/N!” he growled, gripping your ass for dear life. “You take my cock so, so well for me. Such a good girl, making it sloppy for me. Guess I could return the favor.” He began to eat you out again, this time replacing his tongue in your pussy with his finger. 

You popped off his dick and gasped as his thick digit slowly slid inside the wet depths of your pussy. He began to work your pussy that way, slowly fingerfucking you as he sucked on your clit. “Katsuki!” you shouted, voice nearly going hoarse. “Oh, God, yes!” 

Bakugou slapped your ass harshly. “Uh-uh, baby girl. You’ve still got work to do.” He rose his hips up to your mouth, slowly fucking your wet, soft hands still gripping his cock. “Think you can take me deeper?” Your eyes widened at the challenge, but you couldn’t let him down.

You nodded, proceeding to take him back into your mouth. “Tap my thigh twice if you need air,” he instructed before you began to slowly take him, inch by inch, down your throat. 

He stretched your tight throat, so much so that you gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat. He began to slowly fuck your throat, grunts and moans dripping from his mouth. “Thaaat’s it, mama. Take me deep down that throat. Gag on that fuckin’ dick.” 

His words made your cunt drip even more and he happily lapped it up, his finger curling in your pussy to lightly graze that spot that made you see the entire fucking universe. You and him stayed like that–both pleasing each other, giving each other everything you had in your bodies. You had tears in your eyes and your jaw ached, but you never let up gagging on Bakugou’s dick until, finally, you had to breathe. 

You popped off of his dick with a gasp of air. At the same time, that familiar feeling of that knot in your core about to snap struck you as Bakugou mercilessly fingerfucked you and played with your overly sensitive clit. “‘Suki!” you moaned. “‘Suki, baby, I-I’m gonna cum!” 

“Go ahead, baby,” he mumbled into your pussy. “Give it to me. Give me that first orgasm.” He went faster, harder, pushing you over that edge inch by inch. “Go ahead and cum for me!” he gruffly shouted into your cunt. “Give it all to me!” 

His moaned into your pussy, matching yours in a chorus as you fell over that edge and finally, finally, plummeted into that sea of bliss that overtook your entire body. Your muscles seized and spasmed. You threw your head back and let out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard from yourself. Your toes curled and your fingers dug into the flesh of Bakugou’s thighs. All of this as your pussy spasmed around Bakugou’s finger and lips. 

He lapped up every inch of cum you gave him until you were whimpering, your clit aching from the constant attention. He hummed happily, finally moving away to sigh in satisfaction. “So good,” he slurred, sounding positively pussy drunk. “Your throat felt so good, baby. I bet that pussy will make me cum in an instant.” 

His words ignited something within you that made you twist around to shoot him a sexy smirk. “Wanna find out?” you purred. You moved off his face and began to grind your hips down into his hard cock. As you did, your pussy lips parted, causing your cum to drizzle and smear all over his thick shaft. Bakugou groaned at the feeling as your mouth fell open in a silent O. 

“Wait, wait!” he shouted, strained. “Condoms. I-I don’t…” You nodded at the crossbody purse thrown on the floor alongside your dress. “In my purse.” Bakugou raised an eyebrow at you, and you flushed. “Mina gave me some. Told me I needed to be prepared.” 

He snorted, smacking your ass as you got off him. “Well, now I know why you chose the lingerie.” You plopped down onto your stomach, ankles crossed and hands under your chin as you watched him. You enjoyed the way his back muscles flexed and the view of his ass as he bent to dig the condoms out of your bag. Your eyes lovingly traced the few scratches and scars on his skin, some scabbed and others faded with time, loving each one. 

Once he got one package out, he turned to you and smirked at your attentative expression. “Wanna watch, slutty girl?” he chuckled, the lewd and naughty nickname making your clit jump. He kept those damn eyes locked with yours as he ripped the package open with his teeth, slid the rubber out, and proceeded to role it down his fat, hard cock that you couldn’t keep your eyes away from even if you tried. 

Finally, once he was finished, he instructed you to lay on your back on the edge of the bed. You did so, legs spread and hands bracing his shoulders. “Fuck, you look so good like this. Picture fuckin’ worthy…” 

You smiled at his words only for your bottom lip to quiver as you felt his cockhead slide between your wet pussy lips, nudging your clit. His eyes met yours. “That okay?” he murmured. You nodded, smiling still. “Let me know if you want me to stop at any time, okay? And you know you can say no at any time.”

You nodded but his glare and hand slipping to your neck to tighten around it made you realize your mistake. “Naw, don’t nod at me. Give me a ‘yes, daddy, I understand’.” 

You gasped around his grip, more at the fact he was doing this shit to you rather than his hold. This had to be a dream. You looked dead into his eyes and pressed your hips a little farther up into his, nudging his cockhead a little more into you.

“Yes, daddy,” you mewled. “I understand.” He grinned at you and pecked your lips. “Good girl.” 

Then, slowly, he pushed in a little deeper until his entire head was inside of you. “Fuck!” he shouted followed by a gasp that fell from his open mouth. 

Your mouth opened wide too, eyes blow. “Katsuki!” you whined as the feeling of being stretched took over. He looked worried, stroking a hand over your cheek. “You good, babe?” he exhaled softly. “Not too much?” 

You shifted your hips, trying to get used to the feeling. “Just a stretch,” you confessed breathlessly. He grinned down at you, laughing. “Thanks.” You rolled your eyes at his stupid, adorable self. “Take as much time as you need,” he whispered gently to you, stilling his hips. “There’s no rush.” 

You thanked him with a kiss and let yourself relax, breathing through the feeling. He was definitely thicker and bigger than the other men you’d had, but the wetness of your pussy, the stimulation you added to your clit, and Bakugou’s deep, gravelly voice combined with his nasty words made you relax even more. Finally, you felt yourself adjust. “Okay,” you softly sighed. “I’m ready now. Just go slow.” 

Bakugou nodded. Slow he did go. He never went any faster than you wanted and always checked in with every inch he pushed into you. As he did, he rocked his hips slowly, allowing you time to get used to him. And fuck, were you used to it. The feeling of him slowly fucking you was intoxicating, the wet sounds of his cock slowly pounding your pussy making your toes curl.

“I-It feels good!” you mewled in pleasure. “Feels so, so good, Katsuki! You’re so…big…oh, my God…” 

Bakugou chuckled above you, his hands moving to press down into the mattress on either side of your head. “I didn’t even start really fucking you yet and you’re already going cross-eyed?” He scoffed at you, eyeing the pretty little whore that has replaced you taking his cock below him. “Fucking slut. I’m gonna have fun with you.” 

He began to go a little deeper, plunging into you, then pulling out to do it again. And again. And again. All this time, you’re rubbing your clit that squelches in delight as Bakugou continued to rail you. When he suddenly grabbed your legs and put them around his waist, you just about came right there. “That good to you, baby girl?” he growled to you. “Am I fucking you good?” 

“Y-Yes!” you gasped in time with his thrusts and the squeaking of your bedsprings underneath you. “So…oh, fuck!” Your mind was going blank, flashing white with the hot pleasure you felt. This shit had to be illegal. 

Especially the sounds Bakugou made above you as he stroked away, hips rolling just right into your core. He hooked his hands under your knees to get a better handle, “You feel so fucking good, Y/N,” he whined. “So tight and wet. So good taking my dick.” 

You cried out in response, pussy clenching around his cock at his words. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into the skin of his back. You began to roll your hips into him, meeting his thrusts and hoping to take him deeper. He took this as a sign. “Faster?” he asked. You practically threw a fit, pleading with him to do it. “Yes, please!” you begged him, in near tears. “Go faster, daddy! Please fuck me!” 

Those words seemed to turn him into another person. Gone was the considerate, gentle, loving Katsuki you adored. Now in his place was a stranger–merciless and in control; dominant in every way. You squeaked as he began to thrust into your faster, nudging your clit even more than before as you kept rubbing, making you see stars. 

He leaned down, greedily kissing your lips, wet and sloppy, as he continued to pound into your sobbing-wet pussy. “Look at that pretty little pussy spread for me, stretchin’ around my big dick,” he dirtily growled against your lips. “No other man is gonna make you feel this way, you know that, right?” You whimpered, screwing your eyes tight. “But I won’t let ‘em. There’s gonna be no one else good enough for you but me.” 

His words. His dick. His scent. Him. All of him, was too much. Your orgasm rose before you even had a chance to sense it. It was just suddenly there, dawning on you like the morning sun. “Oh, my God, Katsuki!” you shouted deliriously, getting closer and closer to that edge again. “I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna–” 

Your voice cut off as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave. You came all over Bakugou’s cock with a loud moan that tore from your throat, signaling your joyous end. Bakugou never let up. Though he slowed down a bit to let you ride the wave, he never stopped fucking you, even as the sound of your wet pussy grew increasingly and embarrassingly loud. His eyes greedily drank in the way your pussy pulsed around his cock and how creamy his shaft became. 

He gripped your thighs against his waist as you finally came down from your high, breathing heavy and staring at him like he was an angel. You smiled at him, stroking his arms lovingly and humming in satisfaction. But he didn’t smile at you at all. He dark stare he drilled you with made you almost afraid. 

Suddenly, he pulled out of you, giving you a look at his hard dick coated in your cream. “Turn around and get on all fours,” he ordered. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” You blinked at him, surprised the suddenly switch of his personality. Regardless, you still hurried to position yourself to his liking on your jell-O legs. He smacked your ass harshly, making you squeak. “Hurry the fuck up,” he growled impatiently. 

You bit your lip to hide your excited smile as you planted your hands and knees into the mattress. You felt Bakugou behind you, his cock nudging your oversensitive clit. You bit your lip at the feeling, toes curling. “Move that ass around,” he growled. Heat traveled throughout your body as you arched your back and threw your ass around to his liking, winding your hips and causing his dick to slide against your clit more.

Bakugou sharply inhaled at the sight of you, urging you on more. “That’s it, mama. Do that just for me. Shit, I’d make it rain on you if I had my wallet on me.” You giggled, shivering at the feeling of his big, warm hand laying on your ass cheek. “Thank you, daddy,” you breathed, your voice reduced to a soft whisp. 

He leaned down and pressed his lips against your cheek as he softly slapped his dick against your pussy. Whimpers fell from your lips. His hand then crawled up your neck and gripped your throat, making you gasp. “Grip the sheets tight, babe,” he whispered to you, “‘cause I’m not gonna be gentle.” 

You smiled, arching your back more for him. You wanted this. You wanted him. “Don’t be. Fuck me up, baby.” With a growl and a smack on your ass, he gripped his cock and sheathed himself inside of you once more. He barely gave you time to adjust to being filled again before he was rocking his hips into you, dicking you all the way down. 

You mouth flew open as sparks of pleasure shot deep into you, your eyes rolling up to stare at the ceiling. “Oh, my God!” you practically screamed to the Lord above you, silently thanking him for this. 

Bakugou cackled down at your reaction, putting up his leg on the bed for better leverage as he gripped your hips, fingering digging into your flesh. “I told you I wouldn’t be gentle,” he grunted with each thrust, “but you just had to push it. You just love being a teasing little slut, don’t you, hm? You love pro Dynamight’s little slut.” 

He smacked your ass hard, the sharp sound cutting through the air. “Say it!” he hollered. “Tell me you like it!” Your head dropped to face the mattress, the feeling of him fucking you doggystyle too much. “I-I love it!” you whined aloud. “I love being yours!” 

One of his hands moved from your hips to grip your chin, forcing you to look up. He leaned forward, pressing his dick deeper into you. “Yeah, you do,” he breathlessly chuckled into your ear. “Yeah, you fuckin’ do. None of them extras can make you feel like this. No one could ever stroke that pretty pussy like me.” 

He fucked you just like that–deep and rough, never giving you any more than you could took. You took it all, so glad to be his. “No one!” you cried. “No one can fuck me like you do!” You knew it was true. No one could make you feel like this: so free and so unashamed. You wanted to be his slut. His baby girl. His toy. His everything. 

Your emotions got the best of you and you found yourself grinding yourself back into his cock, desperate for that third release of the night. “‘Bout to cum!” you sobbed. “Gonna cum again!” 

Bakugou fucked you faster, drilling into your pussy again and again, pushing you towards that finish line. “Cum again for me, baby!” he ordered you loudly, his voice bouncing off your bedroom walls. “I’ve fucking got you! Cum all over this dick!” 

You did. Fuck, you did. You came all over his dick the way he demanded you to, hard. This orgasm shook you, ripping your voice from your throat and causing your body to spasm uncontrollably against Bakugou’s hold. You could feel your cum drip down your thighs, probably messing up your comforter big time. But you didn’t give a fuck. That sedated feeling your orgasm gave you and the musky scent of Bakugou’s cologne didn’t allow you to. 

Exhausted, your arms gave you and you planted face first into your bed. Bakugou laughed as he slid out of you, causing you to whimper weakly. He hovered over you, pressing his lips to your ear. “Tired, baby?” he murmured softly to you, his hand soothingly stroking your back. You nodded wordlessly, body and pussy aching from the vigorous activity.

Then the man did a complete 180. “No, the fuck you’re not,” he growled. “Not yet.” Before you could question his motives, he was flipped your ass over, prying your legs apart, and settling between them. Your eyes widened at his still-hard dick now nudging at your clit and sensitive opening. How the fuck hadn’t he cum yet?! 

You couldn’t question it for long because he was sliding inside of you once more. As he did, he forced your legs and arms to wrap around him as his hands cupped your ass, fully sitting you down onto his cock as he straddled you. Your eyes widened and aa string of moans left your lips as he began to fuck you deep, hard, and rough into your mattress like he was trying hard to put a baby in you. 

Was Dynamight really folding your ass into a fucking mating press? 

His plump lips kissed all over your face as he fucked you silly, his big, muscular body pressing into you. “No one else, right?” he huffed, his breath fanning your face. “No other man can give you dick like this?”

He swallowed your words with his mouth, his wet lips and tongue moving sloppily over yours. “Say it, slut!” he growled against your lips. “Tell me whose you are! Who’s fucking you like this?” 

“Katsuki!” you screamed to the heavens, saying a silent apology to your neighbors for the noise. You were losing it now, tears dripping down your face and pussy spasming around his cock plummeting deeper and deeper into your wet depths. “Can’t…can’t do it! Too much!” 

“Goin’ dumb, honey?” he chuckled hotly. “Is my little baby goin’ stupid from this dick?” He leaned away from you and took your ankles into his hands, plunging into you deeper than you were sure was humanly possible. “Too bad. You’re gonna cum for me again. You can do it, babe. I know you can. You’re already takin’ this dick like a champ.” 

A sob left your lips, overwhelmed by the feeling and the sight of Bakugou. He was a picture of perfection; a wet dream carved by solid stone. Your hand went for his abs, his fingers lying flat on the planes of his toned stomach. You weren’t sure if you could cum again. Your pussy was crying, not sure either.

“Come on now,” he softly urged you. “Be a good girl and cum for me again. Last one, I promise…” He grunted, his face screwing up and triggering something inside of you. “‘Cause I’m about to cum too.” 

That seemed to do the trick because you felt that familiar knot begin to loosen for the fourth time tonight. Bakugou really was going to make you cum four times in a row. You gripped him close, wanting him to feel this moment, wanting to be closer, just as you felt yourself beginning to unravel once more. “Oh, God!” you cried. “Katuski! C-Cumming! I’m…I’m…” 

“Fuck, you just got so tight!” Bakugou raspily whined, drilling you desperately now. “I’m gonna cum too, baby. Cum so deep inside you…” You nodded frantically, bouncing in his arms as he bounced you up and down on his cock that swelled inside of you, hitting that spot again and again. “Do it!” you pleaded to him. “Cum for me, daddy! Make me yours and only yours! Please!” 

And then it happened: you came for the fourth time that night, seeing nothing but the universe and Bakugou’s eyes. Your cum sprayed and dripped all over him, flowing down his balls that finally emptied into you despite the rubber.

Strings of your name and shit, oh, my god, fuck, fuck, fuck fell from his luscious lips in the most delicious, orgasmic, raspy moans you’d ever heard as he came. He gripped your body to him like you were the most precious thing that existed. To him, you hoped you were.

You were seeing and feeling heaven for a moment, and even as it began to fade, you still held a piece of it as Bakugou slumped onto you but not enough to crush you. He rocked his hips a little slower before finally stilling, exhausted and coated in sweat. He breathed heavily against you, cradling you to him. You smiled into his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Bakugou gave you one more feeble squeeze of your breast, finally slid out of you, and tossed the ruined condom in the trashcan beside your bed. After he carried you to the bathroom since you could barely walk and let you pee, he dug into the covers and helped you under them. You sighed as the cool sheets and soft mattress hit your clammy skin. Bakugou settled in next to you, one arm behind his head while the other wrapped around your waist.

“Shit,” he breathlessly chuckled. “You tuckered me out, girl. I haven’t cum that hard in a minute.” 

“Mmm…” you hummed tiredly, eyes fluttering shut. You leaned your head against his hard chest, the sound of his slowing heartbeat lulling you to sleep. “That was so nice.” 

Bakugou glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “Just nice?” You would’ve said much more, but sleep was knocking at your door, demanding you open it. He seemed to notice you slipping away because he smiled down at you, chuckling softly. “Tired?” 

“Mmm…” You weren’t even sure if you answered him or not as your eyes got heavier and heavier. “Damn, I fucked you that good?” he cackled, his chest rumbling as he did. You smiled at the sound and at the feeling of his hand stroking your side. “Close your eyes, baby. Snuggle up tight against me.” 

You did so, wanting to be as close to him as possible. You didn’t want him to go. If this was just a dream, you were desperate to hang onto it. “That’s it,” he softly cooed, his voice becoming more muffled and distant the deeper you fell into sleep. “Get some rest. I’ll ask you again tomorrow when you wake up.” 

You slowly nodded and were suddenly knocked out, but not before feeling Bakugou’s lips kiss your forehead and the sound of his deep voice in your ear, whispering your name like a lullaby: 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

[the-kittylorian-writes]

“A Future Yet Unknown”

Rating: General Audiences

Type: One-shot

Word Count: 1k+

Summary:

As Din Djarin leaves after consulting with the Armorer in the Covert’s new hideout, someone else stops him on the way out.

Spoilers for s03ep01

Read on AO3 or here:

“A Future Yet Unknown”

“Then I will see you again,” were Din’s parting words with the Armorer.

That was all Din could believe for himself in that moment. Those were words he reassured himself with, more so than with anyone—that all roads would lead him back to his Covert, one which had sheltered him, cared for him, and taught him how to fight. The Tribe whose lessons helped him measure the odds that both plague and adorn his existence.

This was the home he had ever known, before Grogu, and after.

Din’s shoulders felt heavier from a huge unknown burden. He was walking away once again from this only identity, to go forth and prove himself for a place among his brothers and sisters when he returned. It was fortunate that many have recouped to this planet and were rebuilding in small ways.

He thought he heard another pair of footsteps other than Grogu’s, and Din stilled.

The footsteps were light, yet full of promise. They were also the footsteps of a child.

“H-hello…” said a young voice.

Din turned to face its source.

Grogu had already made his way to the tips of Din’s boots and looked up to follow his father’s helmeted gaze.

A Mandalorian child stood before them, and from the looks of the boy’s helmet, it was newly forged and painted.

Din recognized the child. It was the newly converted young warrior of the Tribe.

Din said nothing. He shouldn’t linger, but he felt compelled to stay a minute longer for this child.

Having sought Din’s attention, it seemed the child grew bolder. His little voice filled the air.

“I—th-thank you. Thank you, mister, for saving us back there with your missiles… sir.”

The child stooped a little, as if unsure. While the boy’s movements were subdued, he appeared very much willing to converse with Din, perhaps not knowing who this silver-clad Mandalorian really was. Din was no longer of the Tribe… at least, for now.

Din couldn’t think of any other reply but to give the boy a wordless nod. He was about to turn heel and exit the cave, but Grogu stood so still. Din stopped to patiently wait for his son to follow suit, as always.

Grogu cooed, encouraged by another child’s friendliness. The boy’s helmet turned to Grogu.

Something like a tiny, delighted laugh escaped the boy’s vocoder.

“I-is he your son, mister?” asked the boy.

Din stood still, said nothing. That was all he was to the Tribe now: a shadow, a ghost.

The child, as Mandalorian children were, was stubborn, but not impudently so.

Grogu cooed again; the boy giggled again.

They seem to be having a conversation which Din didn’t dare come in between. As it was, they truly needed to leave. He was about to call his son’s name when the boy spoke once more.

“What’s your name?” The child was addressing Grogu. The boy tapped his own little chest in a lighthearted gesture. His young voice was filled with awe and a pinched sort of joy. “I know we’re not supposed to tell our names to strangers, but you don’t look like strangers. My name’s Rag—“

“Ad’ika!!!”

A deep voice boomed robustly throughout the cave.

The boy gasped, came to senses as if recovering from a slap and abruptly turned to the one who called him “little one.”

It was Paz Vizsla. The towering blue-clad warrior stood a few paces behind the little boy.

Din noticed the moment where the child tensed. The boy took one last look at him and Grogu before offering Paz a feeble nod. The child dashed off into the farther recesses of the cave.

There was only silence as the two armored men gave each other a stare-down.

Finally, it was Paz who spoke.

“You loiter too long,” the hulking Mandalorian told Din matter-of-factly. Din was both surprised and suspicious that he detected no spite or vitriol in the other man’s tone. “Do what you need to do, but don’t speak to any of our brethren in this Covert while you remain apostate.”

Paz couldn’t even say Din’s name, or address him in any way but that of an estranged brother.

“Paz…” Din began.

“Leave.”

Din felt his heart pound. He needed to know somehow, even if it further risked Paz’s ire.

“That child—is he your foundling?”

Paz’s broad shoulders further bucked. The large Mandalorian bristled and stilled, but said nothing.

Din knew that Paz would not entertain his presence any longer. Din had decided to pick Grogu up instead, cradle his son back to the ship. Grogu fidgeted and his large eyes were filled with an odd, sad light.

He was nearing the lip of the cave when out of nowhere, Paz spoke.

“Ragnar.”

Din held his breath as he turned to face his old friend again.

“My foundling’s name is Ragnar. He has just sworn the Creed.”

Din found a window to let his once-dear friend and comrade know.

“He’s already shown great courage.”

It took a while before Paz nodded. “Yes.”

Grogu’s babbles were a soothing balm to add to this precious moment of one brother communing with the other. Small words that held solemn meaning.

“I saw you, Paz, before I pulled the ship’s trigger on the creature. You went in between Ragnar and harm’s way when that monster loomed too close to him…”

There was a glint in Paz’s visor as its gaze pinned Din with it.

“You had done the same.”

Din felt Grogu’s small claws and soft hands grip his gloved fingers, as if the child understood this terse conversation.

Against his will, Din’s voice broke as he reminded Paz of an adage treasured by all of the Covert: “The foundlings are the future.”

Another beat passed. Paz had punctuated their brief exchange with a long-winded huff. The hulking warrior’s visor landed on Grogu for a while; Paz’s broad frame seemed to relax. Then with bounding footsteps, he walked off into the inner cave, perhaps to rejoin his young clan member.

While Din started powering the starfighter up with Grogu tucked in his pod behind him, Din felt a blanket of comfort.

Paz knew. He knew that once a child was in your care, that no hells could ever come for the little one you love, because you would willingly stand in the way. You would take armor and blaster and every breath in your mortal body to stave all danger away, not while the child you love was still learning their path.

The foundlings were the future, even if the future remained a huge, winding unknown.

******

A/N: Theory’s around that Ragnar is either Paz’s foundling or son, and the kid would be a recurring character. Since this ep was Ragnar’s debut, I still have no idea what his personality is, but he could either be nice, or just as a meanie as his “dad” Pazzy. 🙈

Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading! 💙

(You can read second part which can also be stand-alone on AO3 or Tumblr. Yes I'm now invested in this possible father-son conncection. TuT)

[andnowanowl]

Since "Palestine Speaks: Narratives of Life Under Occupation" is suspiciously not available in the US in the form of an e-book, I purchased a physical copy and wanted to share it here for anyone else also unable to get access.

MUHANNED AL-AZZAH

Artist, 33

Born in Al-Azzah refugee camp, West Bank

Interviewed in Bethlehem and Ramallah, West Bank

The Al-Azzah refugee camp in Bethlehem is barely more than an alleyway bordered by dozens of small houses jammed closely together. As one walks through the tight corridors, it's hard to miss the haunting murals painted on the walls of the houses. These paintings are taken from the Handala cartoon series created by the late Palestinian artist Naji Al-Ali.¹ In one mural, a girl's hair is twisted into barbed wire. The painting on another house shows gaunt refugees packing their bags and preparing to flee. On another house farther down the street, fat politicians wag their fingers at an emaciated man in rags.

The artist behind these graffitied murals is Muhanned Al-Azzah. With a full beard on his lean face, Muhanned looks the part of an artist. He's soft spoken but funny, and laughter accompanies all of our interviews. Muhanned's family gave the Al-Azzah refugee camp its name when they led the flight from their village in what is now Israel to Bethlehem during the Arab-Israeli War, or Nakba, in 1948.² For Muhanned, as well as many other refugees, the dream of returning to lands lost in 1948 (and during the Six-Day War in 1967) persists, even if little remains today of those farms and villages. This dream of a right to return to property long ago claimed by Israel drives much of the politics of resistance within Palestine.³

Muhanned is a prolific painter, and his work can be found both on the sides of buildings and in galleries around the West Bank. On the day of our first interview, he is preparing a collection of abstract paintings for a show in London. Muhanned's paintings explore different subjects, but his recurring focus is the three years spent in an Israeli prison. At the end of our first interview, he shows us his rooftop studio, his paintings, and the bullet holes in the walls from the night of his arrest.

MY FAMILY HAS BEEN IN THE CAMP SINCE 1948

I was born here in the camp, in September 1981. My parents were born here too. In 1948, my grandparents on both sides left our land, our original village, Beit Jibrin, which is northwest of Hebron.⁴ Even though I've never visited Beit Jibrin, I feel I'm from there. I know all its details, since I've heard so much about it from my grandparents. I know that it's our village.

I know the story of how my grandparents fled the village in October of 1948. One day the soldiers came with guns, planes, and tanks, and everyone in town fled to nearby caves. But some people came back to the village in the night to sleep inside their houses or get things they needed. Then Israeli soldiers entered each house. The first adult male they found inside a house, they brought him to an open space and shot him in front of everyone.The men knew that if they were caught, they might be arrested or shot, so they fled right away. The women followed with whatever they could carry. They didn't have much money, and they couldn't carry much with them. The most important thing was to bring documents to prove that they owned their houses and keep them someplace safe. Most villagers fleeing Beit Jibrin then came here to Bethlehem, where they set up a camp and named it Al-Azzah, after my family.

I have a twin sister, two younger brothers, and one younger sister. Life in the camp has been the same since I was a child. On a typical day, we wake up and the adults go to the main street to eat and talk, to speak about things that are important. Really, it's like cocktail conversation—the news of the day, what's happening with different families, what's happening with the houses in camp. We have political discussions every day, but only in the evenings. In the morning, politics will destroy your brain.

This camp has a little over 1,500 people living in maybe 120 buildings, all packed close together. Everyone knows each other—people spend a lot of time outside because we have such small houses. On the one hand, it can be useful that the community is so close. If a family needs work done on their house, people from the neighborhood will just show up and help. If a family is hungry, a neighbor always has food for them. But you can't expect any privacy here. If you make something good to eat, people are going to know about it and show up for a meal. If you just want some time to yourself, forget about it. You could be sitting in your pajamas trying to rest or think, and someone will show up at your house and say, "Hey, you wanna go get coffee?" It was especially hard for my sisters growing up. If they came home in the evenings even just a little late, everyone in the camp would know they were out late and gossip about them. The girls have an even harder time here than the boys, I think.

THE SOLDIERS WENT CRAZY WHEN THEY FOUND WRITING ON THE WALLS

I grew up dreaming of Beit Jibrin as a paradise. My grandparents always told us about how great life was for them there. Their home and garden in Beit Jibrin were as big as the whole refugee camp where my family lives now. All of my family has hoped that one day we'd be able to return there and live again in our own home.

That's why we were against the Oslo Accords in the mid-nineties.⁶ The accords officially made the land that Beit Jibrin was on part of Israel. For us, we've always wanted a single state between Israel and Palestine so that we can return to Beit Jibrin. We didn't want to accept the Oslo Accords, and some parties in Palestine didn't either. The PFLP opposed the accords and the idea of two separate states that took our land in places like Beit Jibrin and just gave it up to Israel.⁷ The PFLP also supported the right of return, the rights of Palestinians to reclaim land lost in the warduring the Nakba.⁸ So as I grew up, although there wasn't really a single time or event that led me to it, I came to join the PFLP. There were other things I liked about them too—they weren't a religious party. Hamas, that's the big religious party. And Fatah, that's the big party within the Palestinian Liberation Organization, they were always looking for compromise and were willing to accept two states.⁹ But the PFLP seemed like a fit for me-they represented my interests as a refugee from 1948. I'm not going to say much more about their beliefs, though, because I don't want this story to sound like propaganda!

As I grew up, I got more and more into art. My father was an Arabic Literature teacher, and my parents sent me to classes and workshops in Palestinian art at a young age. I grew up seeing art as a way of resistance, through graffiti. During the First Intifada, in 1987, there was no media, there was no radio to cover all that was happening in Palestine.¹⁰ But there were the walls of the houses. They were the only place for media. For example, if there was to be a strike the next day and everyone had to close their shops, there was no simple way to get the message out. So in the night, some people with masks would go into the street with spray paint and write, "Tomorrow, August 9, will be a day of strike for all the shops and schools." So in the morning, everybody could see it.

And every day, when the people went outside, the first thing they did was look at the walls. Sometimes the message was, "Next week, we are gathering for a demonstration on Tuesday." Sometimes there was writing about a martyr, someone who was killed in Bethlehem." The soldiers, when they came in the camp, they'd go crazy when they found this writing fight over on the walls. They would arrest people, and every day there was a who should clean it up. Some people cleaned it, some people refused. And it was very dangerous when artists went out at night to write on the walls.

I was doing some of the same sort of thing even as a teenager. Art was my own individual way of resisting, but we can't do much just as individuals to resist-that just leads to chaos, so that's why I joined the PFLP. More than anything I wanted a chance to go back some day to live in Beit Jibrin, and so a lot of my art has been about being a refugee, about wanting to return home.

After high school, I went to Al-Quds University in Abu Dis to study painting.¹² I also had a chance to study traditional arts in Morocco-decoration, Andalusian art, mosaics, and writing.¹³ When I returned home, I continued to study Palestinian art and culture, and I stayed politically active as well.

I was part of the PFLP through 2004, when I was around twenty-two. I met with other members and organized protests and other campaigns on campus. The Israelis considered the PFLP terrorists and an illegal political party, and so I knew that I could be arrested one day, and maybe even killed. But at that time I was feeling that we were under occupation and somebody must do something to change this situation, and anything anybody could do for Palestine was for the good.

SOMETIMES PEOPLE JUST DISAPPEAR

Late on the night of April 15, 2004, I was home asleep. I slept in an apartment on the roof, where I also had an art studio. My whole family was there, and they stayed on the second floor of the building. We had a friend staying with us as well. My uncle's family lived on the ground floor. Suddenly I woke up hearing megaphones. I knew it was the Israeli military. They were ordering everyone out onto the street, demanding that everyone on the block come out of their homes.

I got out of bed quickly and my first thought was how I could escape. I went to the window and looked out. I saw my neighbors filing out of their homes, and Israeli soldiers were there with jeeps and vans—it looked like they were circling the entire camp. As I watched, the soldiers were moving toward our house, starting to circle it. Then they called out my name through the megaphone. They spoke directly to me in Arabic. "Muhanned Al-Azzah. You cannot escape. Put your hands up and leave the house."

I took my time, if I can speak freely, to hide whatever I didn't want them to take when they searched the house. I hadn't been part of planning any big operations or doing anything violent, but it was against Israeli law to even promote or be part of the PFLP. I guessed they were arresting me because someone had let them know I was organizing for the party.

All I could think was that I might die in a moment, and I asked God for just a few more moments to live. My adrenaline was so high, it wasn't a matter of being strong or not strong, just wanting to survive. But I took my time and put on warm clothes. I knew if I went outside, there would be no time to come back and get clothes. After a few minutes, they started shouting into the megaphone again. By this time, the rest of the people in my house were already outside. I started to see the red laser lights of their guns all over my room. They fired a couple of shots at the house. And they kept demanding that I come out, even as they were shooting at my window. I hid as best I could while I decided what to do next.

After some more time, they brought my mother from the street to my bedroom door. She told me to open the door, that it was safe to go outside. So finally I opened the door and went out with five laser sights hovering over my body. I was terrified.

My neighbors were all outside their houses sitting in the street in the middle of the night. There were maybe fifty people, my family and neighbors, watching and waiting for me.

The soldiers didn't tell me why they were arresting me. They told my family they needed to speak with me for five to ten minutes and then I'd come back. My mother was crying, but she couldn't move because there were a lot of soldiers surrounding her. She couldn't tell me goodbye. My family knew I would come back, but not when-in one hour? One day? One hundred years?

After the soldiers handcuffed me, they put me in one of their jeeps, and we drove for what seemed like a couple of hours. We ended up at Al-Muskubiya in Jerusalem.¹⁴

The room where they took me was small-maybe eight feet by eight feet, white, with air conditioning. There was a white light, a table, and computer—these were the only things in sight, other than a chair in the middle of the room. The chair was fixed to the ground. They cuffed my hands behind the chair and chained my legs and hands to it. I couldn't move a millimeter.

Then they questioned me for two days straight. They'd be asking me questions for twenty or more hours a day, with three or four officers asking the same sorts of questions. They weren't really about anything particular—just questions about my life. They didn't even accuse me of anything. I started to get very confused and disoriented. I fell asleep hundreds of times, but just for a second each time. When they saw that I was nodding off, they'd throw water on me to wake me up. They pushed me very hard. Twice a day, they brought me beans and released one of my hands. They said I had two minutes to eat. After two days of being awake, sitting upright, not moving, my legs and hands became numb.

They'd also tell me things to break me down. They told me that my house had been demolished, that my family had been killed. They brought pictures of my younger brothers and told me they'd been shot. I didn't really doubt them, and I assumed I'd be killed too. Sometimes people just disappear, and I thought I'd be one of those people. I started to feel lost, just completely out of focus.

Finally on the third day, they let me know I was being held because of my association with the PFLP and because they suspected the PFLP was planning an attack on Israel. They wanted me to talk about it. I didn't know anything about an attack, but I also didn't want to give them any names of other people in the PFLP that I knew, so I stayed quiet. If I gave them names of other PFLP members, they would arrest them too. Sometimes they'd interrogate me for just a few hours a day, sometimes for twenty hours or more. When I wasn't being interrogated, they sent me to a small, gray room—less than six feet by six feet. If I tried to lie down to sleep, my head and legs would be pressed against opposite walls. If I caused a problem in this room, like making too much noise, they'd cuff me and leave me bound up for five or six hours. They gave me just enough food to keep me alive. After a week, they gave me a few cigarettes but no lighter.

Sometimes in between long sessions, they'd put me in a cell with other Arab men. These men would tell me their stories, say they were from Hebron or whatever, and then start asking a lot of questions about me. It was pretty obvious that these men were informants, part of the interrogation, and that their job was to get me to talk when I was feeling less scared, more relaxed. They'd say things like, "I told the Israelis everything, and now I can sleep. If you tell them everything, they'll be easier with you.”

I never saw sunlight. I never knew what time it was—evening, morning? I would sleep for a few hours, and I didn't know whether I slept for one hour or for one hundred hours. I didn't know what day it was. I didn't know anything. I spent a lot of time alone, and my mind was going, but I had something inside that pushed me to stay strong.

JAIL IS A TIME TO MAKE AN EVALUATION OF YOUR LIFE

After about four months in Al-Muskubiya, I was taken to military court.¹⁵ There were around twenty soldiers there, all with guns. I felt alone and threatened, and I think this was part of the game. They wanted to scare me in any way they could. But I felt strong, because I was not just one person, I was one with the Palestinian cause. I was a civilian, I had the right to resist occupation, and I didn't care about what they would accuse me of. I didn't listen to what they said, really. They charged me with political activism, activity against the Israeli state, and being a member of an illegal political party—the PFLP. They had no evidence against me that I was part of any attacks on Israel, just that I had promoted the PFLP. They gave me three years.

I was taken to a prison near Be'er Sheva around August of 2004, not quite four months after my arrest. The amazing thing was that the route that the prison bus took to get to Be'er Sheva took me right through the site where my home village, Beit Jibrin, used to be. I had never seen it before, so I tried to see as much as I could as we passed through. When I saw the village, I was shaken. My grandparents had said so many good things about it, about the good old days. I had dreamt of it as a paradise. But the land was barren except for a few trailers that make up an Israeli settlement. There was an old mosque, and lots of ruins—old stones and parts of buildings that were thousands of years old.

My grandparents had been driven from their home by force, and here I was seeing it, again only by force. It was hard. I was alone. It reminded me that I wasn't with my family, and I always imagined I'd see the village some day with them. It was a bad, lonely feeling. It was almost like I had woken up from a coma—I couldn't make sense of everything that must have changed from that time before 1948, a time I knew only in my dreams.

Life at the prison at Be'er Sheva took some time to get used to. I spent most of my days inside my cell. The cells were about ten feet by fifteen feet, and there were seven people living in each one. There were bunk beds for each of us, but we couldn't come down from the beds all together at the same time because there wasn't enough space to stand. For example, when we wanted to clean the room, only two people could do the cleaning.

Everyone was from different places. Some people were very old, some people were young. Some had ten or twenty years in jail, and some had one year. If you wanted time alone, you had to pretend you were sleeping. From the first day, I began to get to know the other prisoners pretty well. Social relations in Palestine are very close—there are strong connections between Palestinian people. So you can find somebody in jail whose brother or friends you know and you can speak with him.

We had two opportunities to leave our room-once in the morning and once for an hour in the evening. We walked outside in the prison courtyard. In my section there were over a hundred people, but only forty people could fit in the courtyard. So forty people entered and walked in a circle in rows, four to a row. We had one hour, so we walked half an hour clockwise and half an hour counter-clockwise. One of the prisoners would clap when half an hour was up and then we'd walk in the opposite direction. As we walked, I thought, This is the circle of our life, of every day. And when we start at this point, after one hour we will be back at the same point.

The courtyard was mostly covered, so there was barely any sunlight even on bright days. Most of the prisoners started to feel sick, just from lack of sun. There were some small windows in the hallways outside the rooms, and if you wanted to get sun, you had to go there in the morning. But there was a pecking order. I was new to the prison, and there were older people who had been in jail for twenty years and they were sick, so it was more important for them to be in the sun than me. I didn't really see any sun for over a year.

Slowly, my mind started to bend and adapt to life inside cell walls. Jail is a time for each Palestinian to sit with himself, a time to make an evaluation of his life. And it's an important, powerful experience to have the time to learn and share stories with people in jail.

Sometimes we found somebody sitting by himself in the room with his mind on the outside world, and we knew we had to keep him from feeling alone. If any of us prisoners began to live with our mind outside the jail, we would start to feel down, depressed. So we would give each other a little time to think those thoughts, but if we saw someone looking pensive, we would go to him after maybe half an hour and start joking, discussing things, anything, just to keep him from getting lost within himself.

I was in isolation a few times—sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a week. This could be for something like having contraband, like cell phones. It was very bad in isolation. There was no bed, just a small room with a mat on the floor that you slept on. You had five minutes to go to the bathroom and do what you want, shower, clean—just five minutes. And then you came back to the small cell. Some people spend years in isolation.

There were often conflicts with the guards inside the jail. We would begin to shout or knock on the door and they would come and shoot us with pepper bullets.¹⁷ The bullets cut your skin and the pepper goes in.

The guards searched the room several times each day. When they did these searches, they would bring at least nine or ten soldiers to every room. Sometimes they came just to search. Sometimes they came to bother us. They might come at three in the morning, when we were sleeping. Within a second they'd open the door and nine soldiers would enter with their guns, shouting, "Get down! Put your hands up!"

Still, we were able to hide things sometimes. One thing that was important to us was a cell phone. We used the phone to get news, to talk to our families. At one point, it was my job to hide the phone every evening. We would take it out at six o'clock in the evening and use it until ten, twelve at night, and then hide it. I hid it in a lot of places—for example, we put it in the floor. We cut out a little bit of tile and put it underneath. But you had to be very fast and careful because when the guards came, they searched everything, even the floor sometimes. One time, they brought in a metal detector, and they were able to find our phone that way. They took it, and as punishment they took away visits for two months.

THEY WANTED MY FAMILY TO FEEL LIKE THEY WERE IN JAIL TOO

During the whole time I was under interrogation in Jerusalem, my family had no idea where I was or what was happening to me. Toward the end of my time in Jerusalem, someone who knew me from the camp spotted me as I was being escorted down the halls to or from interrogation. This guy told his mother about me when he got out, and then his mother told my mother where I was. Then my mother and father went to the International Red Cross to ask for permission to see me.¹⁸ Finally, two months after I was transferred to Be'er Sheva, they came to visit me.

When I first saw them, my mother had been crying. She was behind a pane of glass and we spoke into telephones. It was difficult for me and it was difficult for her, because we knew she was going to leave after forty-five minutes. During the visit I told them, "It's okay, I'm good. We have a big space, and TV, and the food is good. We have meat, we have chicken every day, we have juice, we can drink what we want." And all of that was a lie to make her feel better about the situation. It wasn't easy, because I knew if anybody was released from jail, they would tell her what was really going on. And I knew that she knew I was lying, but she didn't want to say it.

But she wanted to keep my spirits up as well. I kept asking about what was happening outside, and she told me everything was good—this friend was getting married, this one was about to graduate from college. There were a lot of bad things she didn't tell me about. I know she lied because she wanted to give me a nice picture of the outside. So we were lying to each other just to keep each other happy.

My parents came twice a month. It was hard for them to visit the jail. They'd get on the bus at four in the morning and wouldn't arrive until noon, and the visits were only forty-five minutes long. They wouldn't get home until at least seven or eight at night. Sometimes when they came, the prison guards told them, "He's not here, we took him to another jail," or "He's in court." It wasn't true. Once, another prisoner coming back from a visit told me, "Muhanned, your family is waiting outside." I changed my clothes for the visit and waited for my turn. But every time I asked the soldier about it, he said, "Not now, not now." Finally, visiting hours ended and the soldier said, "Your family didn't come." I told him my family was outside, and he went to check. When he came back he told me they had been there, but that they had to leave because visiting time was over.

You know, I didn't want my family to come. I didn't want them to spend all these hours just to come for forty-five minutes and sometimes not even see me. It was a punishment for my family. The Israeli authorities wanted to make my family feel like they were in jail too. So, one night, I used the mobile that we had hidden to tell them not to come anymore.

A couple of months after my parents first started visiting, my two younger brothers were arrested as well. The older of the two was sentenced to two years. He was nineteen. My youngest brother was given administrative detention for a few months-he was just sixteen at the time.¹⁹ I was the first, but my father and mother now say the Israelis have a map of the house since they've visited so many times.

When I was arrested, it was hard for my family. My mom didn't leave the house for a while. But after she came to visit me the first time, she began to meet people and she began to see there were people who would spend all their lives in jail. They had families, wives, and children that they'd never see. So this gave her some perspective. She thought, My son, at least he will get released. And she felt the same way about my brothers. I felt the same way, too. There were a lot of people who had twenty-year sentences. So I felt I was just in prison as a tourist.

After a year and a half, in the spring of 2006, I was moved again, this time to the prison in Naqab.²⁰ There I lived in a tent in the desert for eight months. There'd be maybe twenty of us in each tent, and huge walls around each section of tents. The walls were the same height as the apartheid wall.²¹ We were in the desert in June and July, the hottest time of year, under the sun all the time. It was like 104 degrees Fahrenheit, but we were just out in the sun. All the prisoners, they spent their time close to the wall trying to get shade. And there were so many bugs—mosquitoes, bed bugs. It was terrible. The only good thing was the other people, the other prisoners I met.

After the prison in the desert, I was transferred again to Shate Prison, near Nazareth, not long before my release.²² I spent a few months there. Then finally, in 2007, I was released.

I MADE MY ROOM LOOK LIKE THE ROOM IN JAIL

I knew the date I would be released, but not the place. They released me in Jenin.²³ It was very far from home, and I didn't have any money. I didn't have anything. In 2007, the situation in Jenin was not easy. I borrowed a phone from a taxi driver to call my family and tell them to come and take me back to Bethlehem.

When I got home, I found a hundred friends, family, and neighbors waiting for me at the camp. All of them wanted to carry me on their shoulders or to hug me. I had spent the last three years speaking and living with a maximum of seven people, and to be around so many people all of a sudden, so much commotion, was overwhelming. I was happy, but it was a little too much. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, and I couldn't focus.

The first day I slept in my own house, I woke up at six in the morning, alone. I had gone to sleep at four or five o'clock in the morning because I was celebrating with my family and friends, but I woke up at six because every day while I was in jail, we woke up at six to do the count.

For three or four months, I wanted to be alone. I didn't want to speak with anybody. I didn't want to meet anybody. I made my room look like the room in jail—I filled it with some boxes to make myself a smaller space, and I had coffee and everything I needed around me in that one room.

Everybody who goes to jail has a lot of problems when they get released. For me, I had trouble speaking with more than one person at the same time, and sometimes I needed a long time to focus on all the details of a conversation. Also, sometimes I had a problem with—I don't know how to say it—feeling secure. For example, if I heard a voice outside, I had to go and see who was talking. If somebody opened the door to my family's house, I had to go and see who it was. Sometimes I'd be sitting in some public space with friends and I'd notice a person sitting behind us, staring at us. My friends, who hadn't been to jail, wouldn't notice that.

But still, I tried to get back into my life. I wasn't as active anymore with friends or politics. But I started school at Abu Dis again in 2008. I was going back to my old art program, the one I'd been in when I was arrested in 2004. My family is educated, as are many people in the camp. Work is not easy to find, and we are not in a normal country. So you must study to have something to do. Having a B.A. here in Palestine is like the same level of qualifications as finishing high school somewhere else. I have four uncles—one has a Ph.D. from Rice University, one has a Ph.D. in education, one is an engineer, the other finished his master's. Two of my aunts are getting their master's. It's the only way to make a living. My twin sister finished her master's and is working for her Ph.D. So getting a degree was very important to me.

Still, it sometimes felt like the hardest thing in my life to go back to university. I had been out of university for almost five years, and when I came back, all my old friends were gone. People who had been studying with me, they were now my professors at the school. I couldn't spend time with other students to discuss anything because they were five or six years younger than me. They felt the things they were discussing were very important, but I didn't care if I had Ray-Ban sunglasses or how much my watch cost or whatever. So I found a distance between myself and others. To be honest, I skipped a lot of classes.

I wasn't like that before jail. Before jail I was happy and proud to go in the morning to lectures, to attend university. I was proud of the books I was reading. But after jail, I was ashamed. I didn't want anybody to see me, having me going to school. I felt too old and that this time was finished for me.

But I also met someone, a woman who was about six years younger than me named Aghsan. Before long, we got engaged. But for a girlfriend didn't change much—it was still hard to adjust to being out of prison. For the Palestinian, the occupation changes everything, controls everything your mind, your life. Aghsan is from Ramallah, and it should have taken me one hour to go and visit her coming from Bethlehem.²⁴ But at the checkpoint, Palestinians are stopped for hours, even if you are just going to meet your girlfriend. At the checkpoint you don't know how long you will stay.²⁵

I had to tell the soldiers at the checkpoint that I had been in jail, because if I had not been honest when they asked, they would have checked and it would have been a problem for me. They asked a lot of questions. And sometimes they didn't ask anything, they just told me to get out of my car and made me wait. It depended on the soldier. If the soldier had a problem with his girlfriend, if he was having a bad day, he would make it a bad day for me. So during our engagement I would just go from Bethlehem to Ramallah to see my fiancée for a couple of hours and then head the opposite way to come back, and this was my whole world. After a while, I started to think the story of Romeo and Juliet was easier than my story. I thought, Why am I in love with a girl in Ramallah? London and Ramallah seem like the same distance. Is this really worth it? Sometimes I think the occupation will even stop love.

I also have had trouble at work because of my time in prison. I got a job at an organization called Addameer, a prisoner support and human rights association, a little after I started school.²⁶ It's difficult for me when I feel I'm under someone else's control. I don't want to be under control. This is a problem I have at work. I don't like signing in every day, having my actions determined by someone else.

I BELIEVE ART IS RESISTANCE

When I came back to university at Abu Dis, I spoke with my art teacher. I told her that I wanted to make art about the jail. She supported me because she said there were few artists like me who had experienced jail, even if there were a lot of artists who made prison the focus of their work. Palestinians and international organizations are always speaking about political prisoners in Palestine. Some Palestinian artists make posters, drawings, paintings, and they often depict prisoners as very big and strong, as guys who can destroy the walls of the jail. But I wanted to do something different. I wanted to speak about prison, about life from the eyes of a prisoner. My art was about how the prisoners see the outside world. I painted the bars of the windows, because that's the view we knew. We never saw a view without the fence, without the windows. And when I went to visit my family, my mother, she was on the other side of the glass. So when I was looking at my mother, I saw my mother, but her face was never completely in view. I've painted glimpses of faces and people and houses and cars on small square canvasses to represent the way the outside world appears to prisoners, seeing the world through these little screens, through small glimpses.

I had an exhibition in London in 2011, and also one in Jerusalem, and a third one in Bethlehem. I am proud of that. But I know these paintings I made, somebody can take them for money and put them in his house and close them up. So the maximum number of people who will see these paintings is ten people, twenty people. But I believe that art is for all levels of society. I am from a refugee camp, and I am drawing for the poor people in Palestine, not for the bourgeoisie. I'm not doing a painting to keep it inside the house.

After I was released from jail, I started doing graffiti. Sometimes I and a couple of other artists used stencils, because we did a lot of painting in places where we are not allowed to paint, so we had to go fast. I did graffiti in the main street to let everybody see the drawing.²⁷

I believe art is resistance. The graffiti in Palestine, it's not like the graffiti in any other place in the world. Because when you write something on the wall, this means it has a connection with the First Intifada and the revolutionary time.

When I make my art, it feels that I am giving something to my homeland and sending my message to the rest of the world. I paint because I'm speaking for thousands of people nobody knows about the people in jail. Many of them have been living for thirty years or more in jail. Few people speak for or about them. There are 12,000 people incarcerated in military jails. Why people don't know about them, I don't know.

If you live in Palestine, you have big problems—much pain, much suffering. I am painting to change that, to help ease the pain. Many of us are not fighting with guns, but we find our own way to resist. We may lose our lives or freedom, but we are working for the lives of our next generation.

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Footnotes

¹ Naji Al-Ali (1938-1987) was a political cartoonist who criticized Palestinian politicians and the state of Israel. A recurring character in his artwork was Handala, a faceless ten-year-old Palestinian boy whose story represented the Palestinian refugee experience.

² Members of the Al-Azzah family had been leaders in the region of their former village ever since revolting against Ottoman rule in the nineteenth century. After many of the residents in their community fled to Bethlehem in 1948, the refugee camp was named after them, in recognition of their prominence.

³ From the glossary -

two-state solution: A proposed peace plan that would create a separate Palestinian state and define clear boundaries between Israel and Palestine. Peace process plans since the First Intifada between Israel and the Palestinian Authority have targeted a two-state solution rather than a one-state solution.

⁴ Beit Jibrin was an Arab village located thirteen miles northwest of Hebron and twenty-five miles southwest of Jerusalem. Before 1948, the population was a little under 3,000. The village was depopulated during Israeli raids in the 1948 war, and there is currently an Israeli settlement on its former location called Beit Guvrin.

⁵ From the glossary -

Arab-Israeli War: A conflict between newly formed Israel and neighboring Arab nations that has shaped Israeli-Palestinian relations since 1948. Tensions between Jewish and Arabic residents of the British Mandate in Palestine (1923-1948) were high leading up to the 1947 United Nations announcement of partition of the region into a Jewish nation (Israel) and a state for the region's non-Jewish Arab population (Palestine). The Arab League, an organization of neighboring Arab countries, opposed the partition plan, and declared war on Israel in May of 1948, immediately after Israel officially declared statehood. The war between the Arab States and Israel lasted until armistice agreements in the spring of 1949. During the war, more than 750,000 Palestinians were displaced from their homes, and Israel annexed 60 percent of the land that had been demarcated as Palestinian territory under the 1947 U.N. partition plan. Palestinians refer to the war and its aftermath as the Nakba, or "catastrophe," and much of Palestinian politics today is driven by the claimed right of families to return to lands they were expelled from in 1948.

⁶ From the glossary -

Oslo Accords: A series of negotiated agreements between the leadership of Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization starting in 1993, during the height of the First Intifada. The goal of the accords was to institute a peace plan and create an interim Palestinian government in anticipation of eventual Palestinian statehood. The Oslo Accords led to the creation of the Palestinian National Authority (subsequently called the Palestinian Authority), a temporary governing body formed from the administration of the PLO.

⁷ The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) was formed in 1967.

⁸ The "right of return" refers to a political position that Palestinian refugees and their descendants should be permitted to reclaim land and property that they were driven from in the wars in 1948 and 1967.

⁹ From the glossary -

Fatah: A left-leaning political party that makes up the majority of the Palestinian Liberation Organization coalition. Fatah was founded in 1959 largely by Palestinian refugees who had been displaced by the 1948 Arab-Israeli war. After its founding, Fatah had several militant wings and conducted a number of military actions against Israel, and Israel targeted military and non-military elements of Fatah.

Hamas: A political party founded in 1987 as an offshoot of the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood. Hamas is a Sunni Islamist political party, and its stated aims are to liberate Palestine from Israel and establish an Islamic state in the region that now encompasses Israel and the occupied territories. Hamas gained greater influence in the early 2000s, surging to power on dissatisfaction with the Palestinian Authority, which many Palestinians viewed as corrupt and willing to cede too much to Israel in peace negotiations. After winning parliamentary elections in the Gaza Strip in 2006, Hamas solidified its power in Gaza after violent skirmishes with opposition party Fatah. By 2007, Hamas had effectively taken control of Gaza, driving the Palestinian Authority from power there. Because Israel views Hamas as a terrorist organization, it imposed a crippling economic blockade on the Gaza Strip following Hamas takeover. In the spring of 2014, Hamas and Fatah announced a political reconciliation, though to date Hamas remains the sole power in Gaza.

Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO): The Palestine Liberation Organization is a coalition of political organizations that was formed in 1964 with the aim of creating an independent Palestinian state. The PLO was first formed in the summer of 1964 during a meeting of the Arab League, and was composed of numerous political and military factions, including Fatah and the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP), Yasser Arafat led the PLO from 1969 until his death in 2004. The coalition was considered a terrorist organization by Israel and the U.S. until 1991. After negotiations known as the Oslo Accords began in 1993, the PLO became the official governing and diplomatic body of the Palestinian people. In 1994, the Palestinian Authority was formed out of the organizational structure of the PLO and chartered as an interim government of Palestine for the duration of peace negotiations between Israel and Palestine.

¹⁰ The First Intifada was an uprising throughout the West Bank and Gaza against Israeli military occupation. It began in December 1987 and lasted until 1993. Intifada in Arabic means "to shake off."

¹¹ Palestinians use the term "martyr" generally for anyone killed by Israelis, not necessarily someone who died while fighting. Although originally a religious term, it is now used by religious and secular Palestinians alike.

¹² Al-Quds is a university system with three campuses in the West Bank, including one in the city of Abu Dis, which together serve over 13,000 undergraduates. Abu Dis is a city of around 12,000 people just east of Jerusalem. Al-Quds is the Arabic name of the city of Jerusalem.

¹³ Muhanned is referring to the art and culture from Spain during the 800 years when it was under Muslim influence. In 710, Islamic armies succeeded in conquering large areas of Spain within a short span of years. The conquerors gave the country the name Al-Andalus.

¹⁴ Al-Muskubiya ("the Russian Compound") is a large compound in Jerusalem that was built in the nineteenth century to house an influx of Russian Orthodox pilgrims into the city during the time of Ottoman rule. It now houses a major interrogation center and lockup as well as courthouses and other Israeli government buildings.

¹⁵ Up to this point, Muhanned was being held in administrative detention, a system that allows Israel to indefinitely detain Palestinians without specific charges.

¹⁶ Eshel Prison, near the Israeli city of Be'er Sheva, is a maximum-security facility that was opened in 1970. Be'er Sheva is a city of over 200,000 people located sixty miles southwest of Jerusalem.

¹⁷ Pepper-spray projectiles are weapons sometimes used to incapacitate and control crowds. Each projectile ball fired from the weapon contains chemicals such as capsicum, which is also used in pepper spray. Though they are intended to be non-lethal, deaths have been reported from the use of pepper-spray projectiles.

¹⁸ The International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) is an organization that monitors prisoner rights around the world, among other functions.

¹⁹ From the glossary -

administrative detention: A legal procedure under which detainees are held without charges or trial. Some forms of administrative detention are legal under international law during times of war and while peace agreements are negotiated between opposing factions. Many of the detainees in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, are held by the United States in administrative detention indefinitely, and the procedure has also been employed in Northern Ireland against the Irish Republican Army and in South Africa during the apartheid era. Administrative detention was employed by the British against Jewish insurgents during the British Mandate of Palestine, and the Israeli military adopted the practice at the formation of Israel. In 2014, Israel has held as many as 300 Palestinians in administrative detention. Though each term of detention is limited to a set number of days (usually a single day to as many as six months), detention can be renewed in court, meaning detainees can be held indefinitely without trial or charges. Though article 78 of the Fourth Geneva Convention grants occupying powers the right to detain persons in occupied territories for security reasons, it stipulates that this procedure should only be used for "imperative security reasons" and not as punishment. During the Second Intifada, Israel arrested tens of thousands of males between the ages of fourteen and forty-five without charges.

²⁰ The Ktzi'ot Prison is a large, open-air prison camp in the vast Negev desert (Naqab desert in Arabic), located forty-five miles southwest of Be'er Sheva. Ktzi'ot was opened in 1988 and closed in 1995 after the end of the First Intifada, and then reopened in 2002 during the Second Intifada. According to Human Rights Watch, one out of every fifty West Bank and Gazan males over the age of sixteen was held at Ktzi'ot in 1990, during the middle of the First Intifada.

²¹ This is a reference to the barrier wall separating Israel from the occupied Palestinian territories, which in many places is twenty to twenty-six feet high and made of triple-reinforced concrete.

²² Shate Prison (shate means "hot pepper" in Arabic) was opened in 1952 and houses 800 prisoners.

²³ Jenin is a city of almost 50,000 people on the northern border of the West Bank. It's located over sixty miles north of Bethlehem.

²⁴ Ramallah is the de facto administrative capital of Palestine. It is about thirteen miles north of Bethlehem.

²⁵ From the glossary -

checkpoints: Barriers on transportation routes maintained by the Israeli Defense Forces on transportation routes within the West Bank. The stated purpose of the checkpoints in the West Bank is to protect Israeli settlers, search for contraband such as weapons, and prevent Palestinians from entering restricted areas without permits. The number of fixed checkpoints varies from year to year, but there may be as many as one hundred throughout the West Bank. In addition, there are temporary roadblocks and surprise checkpoints throughout the West Bank that may number in the hundreds every month. For Palestinians, these fixed and temporary checkpoints—where they may be detained, delayed, or questioned for unpredictable periods of time—make daily planning difficult every month.

²⁶ Ramallah is the de facto administrative capital of Palestine. It is about thirteen miles north of Bethlehem.

²⁷ Most of Muhanned's murals are done with the permission, and even at the request, of the property owners.