#he said I’ve had ENOUGH you’re all MORONS!!!!!

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

“I will not be weakened by my brothers.”

“You already are. Your family is a mess. They don’t obey because they love you, they obey because they’re afraid. How afraid do you think they’ll be when your dad shows up to put you in your place?”

[thatanimeramenchick]

Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Part One

No one asked for this, but whatever. Bite me. I’ll get to the asks, I swear

3,516 words

Part Two - Part Three

–-

The last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself. In a place like hell, where the worst of society sunk together and only somehow seemed to get worse, it was a good idea to not catch other people’s eyes. If their eyes were on you, it was almost never for a good reason.

So when you decided to start working, it made sense you would do something quiet and in the background like data filing for a large media company. While there were many more unsavory jobs that paid more, you wanted to avoid the obvious and dangerous crime life of hell as much as possible in your daily life. You had had enough of being unwillingly tied up in that kind of stuff when you were alive. You might as well spend your eternity in some type of peace, or at least as much as someone in hell can get.

So, you made sure you were presentable as you walked into Voxtekk on your first day to work, dressed simple business attire and keeping a quiet demeanor.

“There you are!” said who you presumed was your new boss, a short man with glasses and a blue hair dye, “Was wondering if you were going to show up!”

“Sorry,” you said, “The traffic was bad.”

“Well, you better get used to leaving early,” he said, “Traffic is always a bitch in this part of Pentagram City.”

He continued to speak as he led you to the elevator.

“So, I’ve been told you have a lot of experience with this sort of thing on earth,” he said.

“Yes, I did library work while I was alive,” you said.

And some smuggling. Especially with weapons.

You didn’t think it would be necessary to tell him that though. The job had come in handy though by giving you a knack for remembering where things were.

“Good, good,” he said, “I expect you’ll be able to figure out how to do this on your own then.”

He led you to a room that was filled with file drawers as well as a large computer off to the side.

“There’s thousands, if not millions, of files in here, both physically and digitally. It’ll be your responsibility to make sure that everything new brought in gets put in its proper place, as well as that anything that is requested can be easily found,” he said, “As the biggest media company in hell, it’s important that we know at all times where every piece of information or media can be located.”

It was overwhelming, like the world’s largest and most complicated library. It made your head spin a little looking at it all, but you always liked a challenge.

“You think you can handle it?” he asked.

You nod with some confidence, though you don’t quite feel it. This was going to take some getting used to.

“I hope for both our sakes you’re right,” he said, “Last filer I hired couldn’t tell left from right and Vox fried me to a crisp. Took me a good week before I was able to regenerate properly.”

Crap, that sounded bad. Note to self, don’t let that happen to you.

“I think I’ll be all right,” you said.

---

It was a bit overwhelming the first few weeks. You were competent enough to keep things in order though. Your experience was paying off, and you weren’t hearing any complaints or news about any assistants getting fried, so you supposed you were doing your job well enough.

Within two months of starting your job, you finally met the rumored big man himself. He had come in one day, visibly in a bad mood as he walked over to your desk, a man trailing behind him.

“I don’t know why I even pay you morons,” he said, “I have to hear important information secondhand from fucking Valentino because you can’t be bothered to keep up with what’s happening in hell.”

“Look, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to not tell you,” he said, “I just didn’t think you’d care.”

Vox had stormed over to your desk.

“So you KNEW and thought it would be a good idea to just not tell me at all?” he said.

“T-that’s not it! I just-”

Vox held up a hand to interrupt him before turning to you.

“I want the file we have in here on Alastor,” he said, a static buzz of irritation on the last word, “Now.”

“Of course, sir,” you said.

You hurried over to the file cabinet and quickly located it.

“See, not everyone around here is as useless as you are,” Vox said to his other employee.

You saw the hapless employee mutter something under his breath out of the corner of your eye, and before you knew it a chain had appeared and Vox yanked him closer.

“What was that?” he said

“N-nothing, sir!” said the now visibly sweating employee.

A shock went through the poor guy before Vox released him.

“Useless,” he said, “You know what? I think you need some time learning exactly who is in charge around here.”

Vox pointed a clawed finger at you.

“You,” he said, “It’s your lucky day, kid. You wanna promotion?”

“Um… yes?” you said.

“Great. Samuel, have fun in janitorial work for the next decade,” he said, “You’re being replaced. What’s your name?”

“F/N,” you said.

“Hope you have customer service experience as well as filing,” he said, “You’re moving up to my office. Need someone with a functioning brain to run the front desk. Pack up!”

You hesitated for a minute before grabbing the stuff under your desk. You figured the last thing you wanted to do was piss this guy off more than he already looked.

---

Despite him being in such a bad mood that first day, you soon found that most of the time Vox was relatively calm, at least compared to what you heard about the other employers in this building. While he at times could get pretty irritated with things, especially if a certain never-to-be-named demon was brought up by an idiot intern, he rarely took it out on you. He usually took the daily bothers of running the company in stride.

Besides that, running a front desk of an office wasn’t too different than running the front desk at the library. You didn’t have to do near as much organizing in terms of files, but you still did spend a lot of time making sure that everything in Vox’s life was organized from his meetings to when he had lunch.

He didn’t talk much with you outside of work related stuff, which is why you were so surprised when you found out what he was doing one day.

It was a nice enough morning, at least as much as a nice morning can be in hell. You took a sip of your coffee briefly as you stretched and looked out your office window. While you missed the blue sky of earth, the red sky of hell had its own sort of charm you supposed. You glanced down, looking at the people walking back and forth, small as ants. Running around willy nilly. Someone was moving into the building that afternoon, a common occurrence here, as you had heard talk that Valentino liked to keep his employees in close quarters. Seems like they had a similar taste in furniture to your own. Almost frighteningly so.

Except… wait. Was that your sofa? And your dresser? Your bookshelves? You lowered your coffee to the windowsill as you squinted down at your entire catalog of furniture being moved into the building. Something wasn’t right.

You knocked on your boss’s door and entered in a bit of a rush as you heard him say to come in.

“Vox, what on earth is going on?” you asked, trying not to sound panicked.

“F/N, that could be ten different things. I need you to be more specific,” he asked, his tone nonchalant as he didn’t even look up from his phone.

“I just saw what I’m pretty sure was all my belongings being moved into the building,” you said.

“Oh yes, that. Well, I had wanted to surprise you, but I guess it’s too late for that,” he said, somewhat absently, “I hate that you have to take such a long commute to the other side of town. And I know all the apartments there are so run down, I figured I’d just move you into the studio like a lot of our other valued staff.”

What? While it was true your apartment was kind of rinky dinky, it was yours. And you liked the privacy and soft solitude it offered after work. Besides, you didn’t like the idea of your boss just moving you willy nilly without your permission. Still, you didn’t want to show him you were upset.

“Vox, you don’t have to do this,” you said, “I’m ok with where I’m at. I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Think of it as a courtesy as my secretary,” he said.

You could feel your entire face tighten as you got more frustrated. Some of it was probably starting to show, despite your best efforts.

“I never asked for this though,” you said, trying to tread carefully, “and I like my old apartment. I… I don’t really want this...”

“But you do want this,” he said, finally looking up at you, “You want to be in a nicer apartment, closer to work, safer, don’t you? You always want to be here.”

That… You supposed that was true. Something about his tone soothed you, sent a pleasant lull through your skull and made your body relax as he looked in your eyes. Your protests now seemed a bit foolish and childish. In all honesty, you supposed it just made sense that you move in to the studio. Everything you needed was here, truly, why would you want to live away from here? You did want a nicer apartment without the stressful commute.

“O-ok,” you said, a small uncomfortable feeling of doubt still in your stomach, “Yeah. That’s true. I do want to be here more… closer to the office...”

He smiled at that and walked over to you. He placed an arm around you, guiding you back to your own office.

“Of course you do! And besides I already had them move everything here, so why don’t you just go back to work, and they’ll have finished moving everything in by the time your shift is done,” Vox said, “I guarantee once you’ve had time to think it through you’ll be glad we did it.”

“If you say so,” you said.

As he walked you back to your desk, he continued his calming chatter.

“That’s a good girl. You and I both have a lot of work today, anyway, so I think we can agree that you should just focus on that for now,” he said as he nudged over to your desk.

You sat down and turned to the planner on your desk as you heard your boss walk into his personal office and closed the door. You just stare blankly for a good minute, feeling a little light, like you were on Zoloft before shaking your head back and forth. Might as well just go back to work. You could think more about this later.

---

It had been happening so slowly. One day, week, month at a time, Vox was implementing himself into your life inch by inch, despite the fact that the two of you weren’t bound on paper. He had moved you into the building, where you knew that you were almost constantly on camera. He kept you so loaded down with work you barely had a social life anymore, with no time to hang out with friends or date. The pay was ok, you supposed, but it felt minuscule compared to the amount of work he was expecting you to do on a daily basis.

And then there was the… weirder things that had been happening. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he had a way of getting you to forget about whatever it was you were upset about, at least for a little while. But it would always come back eventually, and as you thought about it more, it irritating you that he was dismissing your concerns.

You hadn’t really noticed it until he had gone on vacation for a week with the other Vees. You had been quite busy with work, but without him there to calm you down whenever your “concerns” came up, you realized that maybe you had let your priorities get a little askew. You needed a career change.

So, perhaps against your better judgment, a few days after he had returned, you had left a two weeks notice on his desk before he came in. It only took about fifteen minutes after he came in for him to summon you to his office.

“F/N? What is this?” he asked, holding out the letter.

“It’s my resignation,” you said, trying to sound steady and confident.

“I’m sorry… your what?” he said

“I-I regret to inform you that I will be moving out and relocating to the Doomsday Sector in two weeks,” you said, “I appreciate all that you’ve done here for me as I worked here, but I am making a career change.”

He looked baffled for a second, like he couldn’t believe what you were saying before chuckling a little.

“No, you’re not,” he said, “You don’t want to leave he-”

“Stop!” you yelled out with more force than you intended.

As soon as he had started speaking that familiar fuzzy feeling had entered your mind, and you had closed your eyes, shaking your head. You didn’t want him talking you out of this.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said, as you reopened your eyes, but didn’t really look at him, “But I don’t want to talk about this.”

It was awkwardly silent for a minute.

“Is it a pay thing?” he finally asked, “Because that can be adjusted. You do good work. I certainly wouldn’t mind paying you more.”

“It’s not a pay thing,” you said, “It’s not anything. I-I don’t want to talk about this, so I’m going to go-”

“You’re not leaving!” he said, slamming his fist on his desk.

You jumped, a little surprised at his reaction. While you knew he wouldn’t be thrilled, you hadn’t expected him to be so volatile. He was always so calm and collected that this kind of reaction to something so minuscule confused you.

“Vox, I know you like my work, but I think you’re overreacting a little bit,” you said.

“Overreacting?” he said, looking pissed, “Overreacting?!”

He grasped at the air, a look of surprise entering his face when no chain appeared. You look at him bewildered. Had he really just tried to…?

“Vox, we don’t have a contract?” you said, “Did you forget that?”

Had he really gotten so comfy with you that he thought that you were another one of his little pets? To hell with the two week notice, you were going today.

“I think I should go back to work,” you said.

He didn’t say anything as you went back to your desk. You finished filing information extra fast that day, doing a bit of a sloppy job. As soon as it was noon, you left for what appeared to be a lunch break, but you had decided was actually going to be your escape.

This situation was getting uncomfortable. You hurried to your room and haphazardly threw clothes and necessities into your suitcase. Anything you left behind on accident you would just have to replace. On a final note, you shoved your wallet into your back pocket and walked over to the door.

Except it didn’t open. The nob didn’t even turn when you yanked on it. You tried it a few times, to no avail.

“Dammit,” you murmured under your breath, and you pounded your fist on the door.

You were about ready to start kicking it when you heard a burst of static behind you. You turned to see your boss coming in through the camera system. While it had always been an eerie feature to your arrangements, it was a million more times so to see Vox using it to his full advantage.

“What the hell is going on?” you asked.

“I should be the one asking that,” he said, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“None of your damn business!” you said, “I don’t know what security you have on this door, but you better take it off now or-”

“Or?” he asked.

Now it was your turn to look tense as he gave you a self-satisfied smirk. You could feel your face flushing in a quiet rage as he spoke. Though you were hiding them behind your back, you could feel your fists clenching, as well as the shape of you mouth hardening.

“Vox, you are being ridiculous! We don’t even have a contract! I’m not bound to you, so you can’t keep me here,” you said.

He cocked his head at you, raising an eyebrow, “Oh really now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his tone only pissed you off more.

“Yes, really!” you yelled, “I’m not staying here. I’m leaving whether you want me to or not.”

“And just how do you expect to do that?” asked Vox, “Jump out the window? I mean you could splatter yourself on the ground, but it’d be a bit rude considering I’ll have to send some unlucky interns to scrape you off the pavement and put you back in your room until you regenerate.”

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath in and clenching and unclenching your hands with an unnecessary amount of force. You tried to calm your voice down.

“Vox, I understand that you like the work I do for you, but you’re being ridiculous,” you said.

“You think this about work?” he said, “F/N, don’t act stupid. I can get a new secretary anytime I want, ten secretaries. You and I both know that’s not what this is about.”

You looked at him confused. It wasn’t?

“For someone who is so smart with data, you are being so unbelievably slow right now.”

He advanced on you, causing you to shrink against the frame of the door as he leaned over you. He pushed you against the wall and gripped your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. It all happened in a flash, too fast to register, and before you could realize it, he was pulling you into a rough kiss.

It wasn’t what you had expected, though it wasn’t as if you had thought a lot about what kissing your boss would feel like. On the rare occasions when you had wondered about it, you had assumed kissing Vox would be like kissing the screen of a laptop. Apparently though, he had a literal working mouth as you could clearly tell from the sensation of his tongue and even teeth connecting with your own. Your chin ached in his firm grip, which could have been more tender if it didn’t feel like he was keeping you from turning your face away. You tried to do so, but he didn’t even seem to notice it, he was so preoccupied.

He held you like this for a good two or three minutes, his saliva coating your mouth. Though it was barely there, you could feel a slight buzz to it, as if some of his electricity was in his fluids. He finally released you though, some of his spit getting on your lips as he removed himself. A sigh filled the air as your lips parted.

“Even better than I thought it would be,” he murmured

He shifted a bit and was leaning in for another kiss when you kicked him in the shins.

“Ow!” he said, releasing you and giving you time to dart away.

You had moved in a burst to the other side of the room, glaring at him with what you hoped was resentment. There was also something else though. A feeling of deep rooted anxiety and fear was stirring in full force, despite the fact that over the past few months you had been pushing it down as much as possible. You hoped he couldn’t see the weakness in you.

Whether he did or not though, you could tell he was visibly pissed for a minute. He finally got his features under control, but as he spoke his tone held all of the avarice that had left his face.

“Whatever,” he said, “Contract or not, you’re still mine, and you’re not going anywhere until you accept that. Throw a tantrum if you want to, but you’re stuck here.”

You watched as he went back into the camera system as easily as he had come. You curled up on the floor, burying your face in your arms.

[sporadicthingcollection]

Kiss, Marry, Kill: Part 1/2 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy overhears a private conversation and uses that knowledge against you. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~3k (of 5.3k) Warnings: Clown abuse, strong language, incorrect use of a straight razor.

Never had you on my mind Now you're there all the time Never knew what I missed until I kissed ya

---

By all accounts, Buggy should be having a great time. There's food, alcohol, gambling... hell, there's even a swimming pool. Not that he can partake, but he can live vicariously.

Instead, he's got a whole school of shark eyes trained on him as he sits on a stool next to Arlong's throne. This water park sucks.

He's not chained up or anything. The threat of a couple dozen sets of teeth ripping into him is reason enough to sit perfectly still, keep his mouth shut, and try to look as small as possible. No sudden movements, no change in expression, no—

"Kiss the clown, marry the waiter, kill Pink Hair."

Buggy sits bolt upright and looks around. Who the hell said that?

Arlong doesn't even deign to look at him. "Hear something?"

Clear. Crisp. With a little bit of an accent, maybe. He's heard it somewhere recently, but where?

Certainly not here. It was a woman's voice, and Arlong Park is a bit of a sausage party at the moment. Not that he can tell on sight with fishpeople.

"Answer me, clown," Arlong rumbles.

He forgets who he's talking to for a moment. "Eavesdropping's an art," he snaps. "You can't rush art."

Big mistake. Arlong responds with a low, wet growl. "It's been three days. My patience is running thin."

Quiet chatter. The clinking of silverware. Someone chewing with their mouth open. The little pirates are at a restaurant, it seems.

He relays this to Arlong. He's less than pleased. He enunciates every word to show his teeth. "Care to be more specific?"

A shudder crawls up the back of Buggy's neck. He takes a swig of his drink to cover it. He places his fingers over his remaining ear, straining.

"You're shitting me." That voice he recognizes. The redhead. The one who ruined his show. The one Arlong's so interested in. Nadi? Nani? Noni?

The other woman speaks. "Nami, you rejected him," she says. "Girl Code only applies if you were dating."

Nami. That's her, the conniving little bitch. "No, not the waiter. I mean you'd seriously kiss the clown? He nearly killed us."

He'd recognize Rubber Boy's voice anywhere, the little shitheel. "And his nose would get in the way."

The mystery woman speaks up again. "That's nothing new. I’ve smacked noses with plenty of guys."

Okay, that narrows it down. It’s not the redhead, it can't be Rubber Boy or the bounty hunter, so that leaves...

...you. Of course it's you. How could he forget you? You're the only one who laughed at Axe-Hand Moron. Granted, it was more like a snnrrrk and you immediately clapped your hand over your mouth, eyes wide with horror, but it was a laugh all the same.

And in that moment, he knew he liked you. Bad sense of humor. Cute smile. A little bashful. He appreciates that. Sure, you helped humiliate him not an hour after the fact, but all's fair in love and piracy.

"Look, I'm not saying it’s a good idea," you continue, "but sometimes you gotta live dangerously."

The bounty hunter speaks, dry and droll. "Storms are dangerous. Bar fights are dangerous. You're just insane."

"Oh, c'mon, you're not seriously gonna hold Fu..." You pause. "Kiss Marry Kill answers against me."

So that's what's going on. "They're just chattering like they always are," he says to Arlong.

Arlong does not like that answer. He snatches Buggy up by the neck, lifting him clear off the ground with only one hand.

"Wait! Wait wait wait! They're still talking! I might have something!" He kicks and struggles, but it's no use.

You speak. "You think everything pops off? ‘Cause a gal could really— hyurk.”

Laughter all around as you’re cut off by something. Sounds like you choked.

“Thank you, Usopp,” Nami says. “I am not having that conversation.”

Arlong saunters over to the pool, carrying Buggy like a ragdoll. He has precious few seconds now. C'mon, he wills them, say something useful!

A slap, a spit, then a couple of hard coughs. “Nice shot,” you wheeze. “Use the unspicy peanut next time. I think I burned my windpipe.”

The new guy — Usopp — scoffs. “Spicy? Please. This isn’t spicy. Baratie spicy is barely a zip. Now, you want spicy, you gotta hit up the Great Pepper Isles. Their chilis are so hot, I had an out-of-body experience.”

And boom, there it is. Right as he's about to be dropped into the water, his ticket to life.

“Baratie! They're at Baratie," he chokes out. "That floating restaurant. That really nice one I got thrown out of, the pricks."

It was Cabaji's fault. Turns out whipping a unicycle out at the bar is frowned upon. Who'd've thunk.

Arlong 'smiles.' All teeth and gums and no mirth at all. "Consult our charts," he says to the nearest fishman. "I'll prepare our compass."

He grabs Buggy by the hair and yanks. In the interest of not getting his neck broken, he separates his head from his body. Unfortunately, gravity takes over and his body plunges into the pool.

Weakness swamps him like a rogue wave. He can't say a word as he's stuffed into a cloth sack and everything goes dark.

In both ears, all he can hear are the sounds of laughter.

---

Someday, Buggy will learn not to run his fat mouth. That day is not today.

Usopp barges into the galley and lobs his head through the air, a low slow toss. He only has a moment to appreciate not being overhand pitched before landing on the floor. Not on his nose, fortunately, but it still hurts.

He points at the blonde guy — Sanji? Sanji. "I can't take it anymore. He's your problem now. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

He tramps off as Buggy flips himself upright. “What’s his problem?” he asks no one in particular. “Sheesh, you make one ‘your mom’ joke and—“

A decidedly unmanly yelp escapes him as he's popped up into the air. The world spins and turns and he braces himself to hit the ground again, only to be caught in soft hands. He's spun around...

...and comes face to face with you, regarding him with curious, contemptuous eyes.

Oh, you're even prettier up close. The redhead's a looker, but she's still a kid. Soft. Pale. Set like a mousetrap, ready to spring and break some poor chump's neck at the slightest provocation.

But you? You're a grown-ass woman. Comfortable in your sun-kissed skin. A twinkle of experience in your eye and the ease of someone who's been sailing her ship for years.

He can't help but smile. "Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here, gorgeous," he says with a wink.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Sanji shoot him a glare. Your expression remains cool and uninterested. Shifting his head to your side, you hold him against your hip like a laundry basket. Even through your trousers, the soft swell of flesh warms his cheek.

“Weren't you just on buggysitting duty?” you ask Sanji.

Buggysitting? Really? "I'm right here, y'know," he grumbles.

He's ignored, as per usual. Sanji straightens up and huffs. “New guy always gets the shit jobs.”

“Let’s trade,” you say. “You take my watch and I’ll mind our chatty compass.”

Rude. “I’m still right here.”

Sanji shakes his head. “Go get your beauty sleep. Not that you need it, of course."

Wow, that was a bad line. Buggy makes his displeasure known with a retch.

“Sleep is for people who don’t have coffee.” You flap your hand toward the door. "Shoo.”

Sanji glances between you and Buggy, but heads for the door. "Any trouble at all, love, and I’m a shout away."

A little smile colors your voice. "If he starts gnawing my ankles, you’ll be the first to know."

Sanji returns the smile, sickeningly sweet. As he leaves, you sit at the table, placing Buggy across from you.

He wants nothing more than to plant his leg on a stool, lean in on his knee, and give you a toothy grin. But alas, he must settle for the grin. "Alone at last. Come here often?"

You don't even bother to look at him, too preoccupied with picking up a very shiny straight razor and a strip of leather. Muscle ripples under your skin as you slide the blade back and forth.

"So you're the barber," he says. You don't respond. "Can't imagine you're too busy on a ship with a bunch of babyfaces." Still nothing. "Don't suppose I could get a shave, then? Last time I used a straight razor, I ended up like this!"

"Barber surgeon," you say as you inspect the blade. Dissatisfied with some invisible blemish, you continue stropping.

He shrugs, only to remember he can’t. "Say, doc, I can't feel anything below my neck. Could you take a look?”

Irritation tints your voice. “Not a doctor,” you say. You’ve clearly had to explain this countless times before. “Doctors treat the inside. I fix up the outside.”

“Splitting hairs, Miss Sawbones.”

Shiff shiff shiff goes the razor. "If you don't stop talking, we’re gonna see if cutting off the nose really does spite the face. Might be an improvement for you.”

That’s just low. “Keep talking shit and this bark is gonna turn into bite.”

You finally look up. You level the razor at him, glaring down the blade. “You’re the only one talking, clown.”

Damn. Your eyes are pretty. Warm as the first sunbeam of a summer morning, but dark as the blotches he gets in his eyes when he looks into a spotlight by accident. Hot like one, too. Heat lurks below the dark surface, like warm charcoal about to catch fire.

Nerves ball up in his absent chest. He swallows them and summons his bravado. “Can ya blame me? I’ve got shit else to do. I’ve met parrots with more to say than you.”

"Count the cracks in the ceiling."

"One, two, three—“ He gives an exaggerated groan. “Didn't you say you were gonna make coffee? Can I get in on that?"

You scoff, but you do stand. "Last thing you need is caffeine.”

“The last thing I need is to be held hostage by a bunch of greenhorn nobodies,” he says, "and yet here I am."

“Sucks to suck,” you say. You pull a pot out of a cupboard and fill it with water. “How do you take it? Sugar? Cream?”

“Black. Like my heart.”

You let out that snnnrrrrk of a suppressed laugh again. What a nice sound. “Something we got in common.”

“Black heart or black coffee?”

“Yes.”

Such a simple, easy response. Not even particularly clever. But the delivery with no hesitation, no intonation, no second guessing the punchline. He laughs. “I knew I liked you!”

You glance over your shoulder at him. “You try to kill everyone you like? No wonder you have no friends.”

He hops to the edge of the table. Not an easy feat with only a stump. “C’mon, babe. All’s fair in love and piracy.”

Calling you babe was a blindfolded over-the-shoulder shot in the dark, but it lands. You add a smile to your glance. “I’ll give you that and nothing more.”

Somewhere, miles away, his heart flutters. He lets it. “Will you still give me coffee?”

“Only if you shut up ‘til this water boils.”

In this state, he’ll take any scrap of stimulus he can get. He bites his tongue and bites it hard, willing himself not to speak.

Silence creeps in. Silence leads to stewing, and stewing leads to bad thoughts. Bad feelings. Lonely feelings. Like how long it’s been since he’s had a friendly cuppa joe with someone. Or had someone honestly laugh at his stupid jokes.

Especially not someone as quick as you. Or as pretty. Or with such a nice ass. Or who maybe-sorta-kinda-might-possibly be interested in him. Potentially. Hypothetically.

There’s no damn way, he tells himself. You’re humoring him. You’re definitely shacking up with that cook — young, charming, handsome. Or the bounty hunter, maybe — tall, dark, broody.

You wouldn’t give him a second glance. Him, a pathetic, painted, big-nosed weirdo. Who is currently a severed head. A temporary state, but still not a good first impression. Even though his actual first impression was trying to kill you and your buddies. This second first impression is just as bad.

A sharp groan escapes him before he can stop it. He eyes you, expecting you to snap at him or worse.

But you don’t. You pause in your pouring to peer over your shoulder at him, gaze soft. “Y’alright?”

There goes his heart again. Ugh. “Peachy. That coffee done yet?”

You curl your lip. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

“Just realized I’m gonna need a straw or some shit.”

Still sneering, you set a shallow mug in front of him. “I’ll see what I can find.”

See? You definitely don’t like him. Stupid fucking jackass, letting his hopes get up. This is what he gets.

…A nice, warm cup of coffee. If you really hated him, you wouldn’t have given him coffee, right? Or be looking for a straw?

You’re just humoring him. You just want to save your friend. Catch more flies with honey and all that. He’ll be more agreeable if you’re friendly.

Across the room, you open a drawer. “Hey, bendy straws. Perfect.”

You’re breaking out bendy straws for him? There’s gotta be something there! At least a little something!

No. No way. Coincidence.

You place an oddly long straw into the mug. He realizes it’s three normal ones jammed end-to-end, creating a pipe ending just about level with his mouth.

You just pulled some engineering shit so he can drink coffee with you. There’s definitely something.

An ice cube plops into the mug and you slide back into the booth with your own cup. “Might dilute it a bit, but can’t have you burning your mouth.”

His distant heart flips again. He has to say something. Before he can convince himself otherwise. He says the first thing that comes to mind.

“So,” he says, “‘kiss the clown,’ eh?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That’s the first thing he thought of? Seriously? He braces himself for boiling coffee thrown in his face.

You freeze mid-sip, brows raised. “Excuse me?”

Okay, you don’t look mad. “Don’t deny it, babe. I heard everything. Kiss Marry Kill? Nice job keeping it kid-friendly, wink wink."

You stare at him with those dark eyes. "No idea what you're on about."

"I know you know. And I know you know I know." He waggles his eyebrows, hoping for a laugh, but he gets nothing.

You watch the steam swirling up from your mug. "What do you want me to say, exactly? That I chose you to kiss?"

"I just wanna know what possesses a woman to make her want to shack up with the guy who tried to kill her and her friends." He lips the straw into his mouth and takes a test sip. Still quite hot.

"Circumstance. Process of elimination. Being put on the spot." You pick up the razor. Your fiddling with it belies your agitation.

"Don't lie to me, babe," he croons. "I can see right through you."

You stare at him. "And what is it that you see?"

What does he see? "A woman on a knife's edge of self-satisfaction and self-destruction. Once bitten, twice shy, but when he comes around the third time, you just can't help yourself."

Your fiddling becomes more insistent. You break eye contact to look at the razor. He's hitting on something. Time to push some buttons.

"You bet on the wrong horse every time. You think it'll be different this time. But it never is." He smiles bitterly. "Something else we got in common. Birds of one ugly feather."

Your gaze softens as you return your gaze to him. "So you found the problem, Doctor Headshrink. What’s the prescription?"

Shoot your shot, Buggy. "Kiss the clown and maybe we'll find out."

You're still for a few moments. Then slowly, carefully, you slide your hand across the table. You pull him closer as you lean lower in your seat to eye level with him.

He can't help the way his breath quickens. It's been so, so long since he had any kind of intimacy. Your reedy fingers trace his jaw down to his chin. Your thumb comes up to pull at his bottom lip, and he lets out a satin-soft whimper as he opens his mouth to you.

You strike like a snake, yanking his tongue out with one hand and readying your razor with the other. His choke turns into a scream as you bring it down, severing his tongue clean at the root.

It's one thing to disconnect body parts. Pop a leg off, drop an ear — he’s used to it. But it's a different story when said part is supposed to be inside of him. His tongue waggles like a fish as he tries to return it to his mouth, but you keep a firm grip.

"You can have this back in the morning," you say.

He wants to cuss you out, but what comes out is ew bihck, whadda fuhck iss won wif ew, gif ih bahck.

You laugh. And lord, what a laugh you've got. Loud, like a party gone late into the hours of the night. Clattery, like a dozen plates shattering on the floor. Full of mirth, like a drunk on payday.

And, for the briefest of moments, his rage is forgotten. He wants to make you laugh like that.

But it returns with a vengeance, replaced with a desire to see you squirm.

---

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

[gingiesworld]

We Are Bonded

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf GN! Reader

Warnings: Fluff

AN: This is a one shot I am thinking of making a story for. Except it may be longer than my Nat x Werewolf reader fic. Please let me know if it is something you will want :)

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad (if you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

18+ MINORS DNI

It was no secret that Y/N had an attachment to the witch, although she had something with Vision, who disliked Y/N’s need to be near her. He would scowl everytime the two would cuddle, Wanda loved to run her fingers through their hair and even scratch behind their ear.

“It’s not right Wanda! This moronic claim they have on you is wrong!” He yelled as Wanda was preparing dinner, slamming the knife down as she turned to face him.

“There is nothing wrong with it!” She told him angrily. “Y/N and I are friends! And guess what? Friends cuddle all of the damn time!”

“Wanda.” Vision took a deep breath. “Y/N is a mongrel.”

“I’m a what?” Y/N questioned, hurt laced in their voice.

“Y/N.” Wanda tried as Y/N shook their head, walking away from the witch and Vision. Wanda glared at Vision before speaking. “We’re done.” She told him firmly.

“You can’t be serious?!” He yelled as she nodded, pursing her lips as she looked in his eyes.

“You have disrespected my closest friend.” She told him. “I can’t be with anyone who would hurt them.” Wanda turned away to look for Y/N.

“What about dinner?” He asked her as she turned back to him.

“You’re all knowing. I’m sure you can figure it out.” With that she left the room, wanting to find Y/N as she searched the compound, only coming up empty. She moved to search outside, where she bumped into Natasha.

“Are you ok?” She questioned the witch.

“Have you seen Y/N?” She asked her, ignoring her question.

“No, why?” She asked her, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Vision and I got into an argument.” She started.

“About Y/N I presume.” She said as Wanda nodded.

“Then they overheard him call them a mongrel, then they left.” She told her.

“Ok, let’s find Y/N before I kill Vision.” Natasha told her.

“I’ve already searched inside the compound and they aren't there.” Wanda told her.

“Ok.” Nat nodded as she led Wanda towards the lab. “Tony, we need to search for Y/N.” She explained everything that Wanda had just told her, the two of them watching as he searched for them.

“They left at around 3pm.” He pointed at the screen showing them leaving. Moving onto another camera to see Y/N get tranquilized and put into the back of a waiting van.

“Do you think you can find them?” Wanda asked, worry laced in her voice.

“I can try to narrow it down to possible locations, but that was hours ago. It can take a while.” He told her.

“Just do it.” Nat told him. “I’ll tell the others we have a situation.”

As soon as everyone was notified of the situation, everyone started to make preparations and plans for when Tony has a location.

“Their ring.” Maria blurted out as everyone looked at her confused. “I gave them a ring, they always keep it on and it has a tracker.” She moved towards one of Tony’s computers as everyone watched as she typed away. “So they are now in Virginia.”

“It looks like an old abandoned factory.” Tony pointed to the screen. “So, I should be able to get the blueprints.” He mumbled as he typed away himself. Soon enough everyone was on the jet and going over a plan. “You are staying on the jet Vision.” Tony stated as they neared the location. “We can’t trust that you will make sure Y/N is safe.”

“You can’t be serious?!” He yelled as Wanda laughed.

“It appears that is your favourite sentence.” She mumbled as she moved to stand beside Nat.

“We’ll get them back.” She reassured the witch who just nodded, ready to rain fire if anyone had harmed a hair on Y/N’s head. Once the jet landed safely, everyone ran towards the base, taking down anyone who stood in their way. What they never expected to see was Y/N being tortured in their human form.

“Y/N!” Wanda yelled as she heard them yelp as a whip came down on their bare back. She used her powers to throw the agents as far away from them as possible. “Hey, it’s ok.” She cupped their tear stained face. “You’re safe now.”

“Wanda?” They whispered unsurely. “Are you really here?”

“Yes.” She told them. “Let’s get you home.” She helped them to their feet, with the help of Steve, they hobbled their way onto the jet. Wanda came straight to them with the first aid kit.

“Just give it a moment.” They whispered as Wanda tilted her head in confusion.

“They will heal in a moment.” Maria informed her. “They heal faster than Steve and Bruce, but not as fast as the werewolves heal on those TV shows.”

“Oh.” Wanda was shocked, her eyes watching as the wounds slowly healed before her eyes.

Once everyone was back at the tower safely, Wanda made sure to stay with Y/N, waiting as they showered. Sitting on their bed as she stole one of their hoodies.

“Hey.” Y/N greeted her as they left the bathroom. “What’s on your mind?” They asked as she looked at them confused.

“Since when are you a mind reader?” She teased as they dried their hair.

“I guess I can sense your emotions.” They told her nervously. “I feel when you are happy or sad, I can sense when you are angry or calm.” They threw the towel in the hamper. “I don’t understand this connection we have, I haven’t really come across another of my kind to even learn more of who I am.” They sat beside her on the bed. “But I know I am drawn to you, like we are bonded in some way.” Wanda took a deep breath before looking into their eyes.

“I feel that too.” Wanda admitted. “I just, it’s this feeling I just can’t shake.” Y/N watched her intently as she spoke. “I loved Vision, before you came along, I really did but.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “You have changed something in me, like I feel for you what I felt for him, and I don’t know what to do.”

“We don’t have to do anything.” They spoke softly. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“But I do.” She told them. “I am just not ready yet.”

“That’s ok.” They smiled as they wrapped their arms around her. “I will wait as long as I need to.”

[ilongfor-the-arts]

This idea came to me as I was watching Below Deck! Carmy as a yacht chef and reader is the chief stew. Enemies to lovers vibes!

Below Deck

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem! Reader

Warnings: language, semi public kissing, angst

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 3.1k

“Alright chef, what do we have here?”

I inquired, my eyes glazing over the vast array of delectable dishes.

“We’ve made kobe steaks with a demi-glace. And creamy pesto shrimp.”

I nodded.

“Hm. Looks good.”

I twisted my head to meet Carmen's gaze, hands on my hips. Carmen and I hadn’t exactly seen eye to eye throughout the duration of our employment on this yacht. However, I am impressed with his efforts thus far. I can only hope and pray that he does not give me an excuse to become irritated.

“What are you thinking of making for the vegetarian option?”

Carmen cocked an eyebrow.

“The pesto shrimp.”

There you have it. He just gave me a reason to be annoyed.

“Carmen, shrimp isn’t vegetarian.”

He furrowed his brow.

“Nah, shrimp is vegetarian.”

My face grew hot with rage.

“Carmen, shrimp is pescatarian!”

Carmen cocked an eyebrow. My jaw dropped. Was he being serious?

“Oh. My. God.”

I rubbed my eyes. My day has already been challenging. The last thing I needed was for this moron to ruin the excellent system I had set up.

“Carmen, we have close to fifty guests on this yacht that don’t eat meat or fish!”

I looked at my watch. My jaw dropped. Time was ticking away, and dinner for fifty guests had yet to be prepared.

“Shit. Dinner is supposed to be served in 45 minutes.”

I muttered under my breath. I wiped my brow with my hand, trying to keep my cool in front of his kitchen staff. If we were alone, he would feel the full force of my rage.

“You need to make a completely new dish with no meat and no shellfish in 45 minutes.”

Carmen's eyes narrowed. He had absolutely no reason to be upset with me. It is not my fault that he does not understand the distinction between a pescatarian and a vegetarian..

“I don’t know if I-”

“Carmen.”

I said sternly, cutting him off.

“You screwed up, and now you have to fix this. I expect fifty plates of a brand new vegetarian dish in 45 minutes. I don’t care how the hell you get it done, but it needs to be done, and it needs to taste amazing.”

Carmen gritted his teeth.

“Yknow, Y/N, I’m getting real sick of this fuckin’ shit.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest in frustration.

“Sick of what shit?! You messed up, not me! It’s not my fault you’re a complete idiot who doesn’t know the difference between a pescatarian and a vegetarian!”

Carmen took a step forward, decreasing the gap between us.

“Not just this, you’ve been out to fuckin’ get me the entire time I’ve been on this goddamn boat! I’m sick of your attitude, and I’m sick of you praying for my fuckin’ downfall!”

He repeatedly thrust his finger at me, emphasizing his exasperation. I stood my ground, not faltering.

"Look," I said, moving in closer to whisper. The soft clanging of pots and pans stopped as the majority of the kitchen staff listened intently to our conversation.

“I’m sorry that I won’t sit here and kiss your ass. You’ve been screwing up. When you do things, you do them extremely well. But you need to learn how to listen. I won’t pretend you’re amazing if you’re not.”

Carmen's tough exterior had cracked just enough to show his discomfort.

“I am not praying for your downfall, but if you don’t start listening, I won’t hesitate to find someone else.”

Carmen sighed with aggravation.

“You’re a royal fucking bitch, y’know that?”

I waved my hand through the air, dismissing his previous comment.

“You can think I’m a bitch all you want. It doesn’t change the fact that we need fifty vegetarian dishes in-”

I checked my watch.

“40 minutes. If I were you, I’d stop wasting time and get cooking, alright? I’m not gonna sit here and let you make me look bad.”

Carmen locked his gaze on mine. The tension in the air was palpable. This was a competition. A competition I was most definitely not losing. He held my gaze. Time passed at an agonizingly slow pace. But I was not fazed. He eventually realized the jig was up. Carmen sighed deeply, his gaze rapidly shifting away from mine.

“Alright chefs!”

He called out to his staff.

“We need fifty vegetarian dishes in the next forty minutes. I wanna hear some ideas and see some seriously good shit being made!”

I smiled, pleased that I had won the battle. I stepped onto the deck, ready to greet the yacht's numerous guests. The rest of the day was a blur.

The number of times I heard, "Y/N, have you done this yet?"

“Y/N, I need this done right now!”

“Y/N, I need this.”

“Y/N, I need that!”

“Y/N, where’s the owner?”

By the end of the day, my head felt like it was going to explode. I had heard my name so frequently that by the time I was given a break, it irritated me.

I found a secluded area of the dock away from the party's hustle and bustle. I sat in one of the lounge chairs, resting not only my body but my mind as well. I rubbed my temples, trying to work out the various knots that had formed in my brain.

I cast my eyes out onto the breathtaking South Pacific. Wow. What a luxury it would be if I was free from work! What a wonderful life I would have if my only goal was to gaze out onto this beautiful water and drink fruity little drinks with a handsome man by my side.

But, alas, here I am, enjoying my brief respite before the owner summons me.

“What are you doin’ out here?”

My heart leaped. I turned around to reveal the source of the voice, Carmen Berzatto. He stood there with a smug expression on his face, his white chef's apron splattered with various stains.

“What, did Claire not give you enough shit to do?”

He asked, pulling a box of cigarettes from the pocket of his apron. I rolled my eyes.

“She said I could take a break while the guests enjoyed their dinner.”

Carmen popped a cigarette into his mouth.

“Don’t you have to make dessert soon?”

I inquired, hoping to provide an excuse for him to leave. He hummed, cupping his hand around the butt of the cigarette to keep the lighter's flame from blowing out.

“Nah. When dinner’s almost over, I’ll start cooking something up. So, I reckon I got about thirty to forty five minutes?”

The cigarette bounced between his lips as he spoke.

“Did you come out here just to annoy me?”

Carmen scoffed, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his inked forearms. I could not help but glaze my eyes over the various tattoos. I wonder if they have any significance.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I came out here because I knew it would be quiet.”

I sighed with exasperation.

“I did as well. I suppose I thought wrong.”

He glanced at me.

“I whipped something together for the vegetarians.”

I nodded.

“Good.”

Carmen scoffed with annoyance.

“No need to thank me.”

Carmen chuckled, taking a long drag of his cigarette before removing it and blowing the cloud of smoke into the crystal clear air. I rolled my eyes.

“I shouldn’t have to thank you after you did what you’re being paid to do. Maybe if you listened and did everything right the first time, I would thank you for your efficiency. But I’m not going to thank you for stressing me out and nearly making me look like a disorganized moron.”

Carmen gritted his teeth.

“Well, Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Y/N, at least give me a little credit! I worked my fuckin’ ass off and prepared fifty vegetarian dishes in forty minutes with no recipe!”

He stated firmly. He would be shouting if his volume rose a few decibels.

“I mean, would it fuckin’ kill you to lose your bitch tendencies for a couple seconds and say thank you?!”

Carmen was flailing his hands around, wisps of smoke trailing the end of his cigarette.

I clenched my teeth. I was so enraged that steam was escaping from my ears. I was tempted to speak. But I was afraid of what might come out. So I simply bit my tongue and averted my gaze.

Instead, I observed the guests rushing around the lower deck. I watched them drink, eat, and laugh. I imagined what they were discussing.

Perhaps the dapper, older gentleman in the blue suit had just returned from his daughter's wedding..

Maybe the young blonde lady in the red dress had a fantastic date last week.

Perhaps the middle-aged man with the big cigar just sold his company.

I tried to push Carmen away from my thoughts. Maybe if I pretended he was not there, he would leave when he realized he was not getting a rise out of me.

“Y’know, it’s unfortunate,” he began.

I jerked my head around to face him. His cigarette had been reduced to a mere inch.

“What is?”

I inquired.

“You’re an attractive lady. You’ve got a drive and passion I admire. You know how to handle yourself.”

He dropped his cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe.

“I feel like we could be good friends.”

I scoffed loudly.

“Yeah, right, literally all we’ve done so far is butt heads and yell at each other-”

“Alright, alright, so we don’t work well together. But I think, given the right circumstances, we could get along.”

I considered it for a moment. Carmen was undeniably attractive. I also admired his zeal. And, according to what I have heard through the grapevine, he was very respectful of his entire kitchen staff.

“Is this a strange, roundabout way of asking me on a date?”

Carmen shrugged, placing his hands on his hips.

“If I asked, would you accept?”

I shouldn’t. There is no logical explanation as to why I would accept. I hate him. We’ve been quarreling the entire time we’ve been on this ship.

“Yes.”

Carmen cracked a grin.

“Well, then, would you like to go out with me sometime?”

I nodded.

“I think I would like that very much.”

I patted the empty lounge chair across from me.

“Care to sit?”

Carmen accepted.

It was very easy to get sucked into the bustle of the yacht during the day. It was so simple to dismiss Carmen as a person with feelings and instead view him solely as a body hired to complete a task. However, I felt sorry for him after witnessing him in such a private setting.

“Hey, um-I’m sorry I called you an idiot earlier.”

“It’s all good. Don’t sweat it.”

He looked down at the floor.

“I’m-uh-I’m sorry for calling you a royal bitch.”

It was now my turn to chuckle.

“It’s all good. I was kind of being a royal bitch.”

Carmen cracked a smirk and shrugged.

“I mean, I was bein’ a bitch too.”

Carmen twiddled his thumbs.

“Sorry, I got so pissed at you. You were just doin’ your job.”

I shrugged nonchalantly.

“It’s all good. You’ve taken care of it, and the guests are happy. That’s all I care about.”

Our close proximity allowed me to study him. I noticed the numerous cuts on his hands, the ink on his arms, and the sheen of sweat on his brow. He smelled like cigarettes and smoke.

I suddenly felt overdressed in my blazer and heels. I should be wearing a swimsuit and holding a refreshing drink. He should be the one who overdresses. He should be walking along the deck of his yacht in a white button-up and black dress pants, like a true rich man. The sun should feel pleasurable on my bare skin. Instead, I felt hot and suffocated beneath layers of fancy clothing.

I noticed a food speck on his face. Perhaps some sauce. I cupped his face in my hand, rubbing the stain away with my thumb.

Carmen seized. His face grew hot under my touch. I barely noticed, as my brow was furrowed in concentration.

Before I could completely remove the speck, he began to lean in.

I drew back abruptly, my breath catching in my throat.

My heartbeat quickened.

My cheeks turned bright red.

My jaw dropped to the floor.

Was he trying to kiss me?!

A look of realization wafted over Carmen.

“Oh-oh my God, I’m so sorry! Holy shit, I thought you were trynna kiss me!”

Oh my God. He thought-

“Oh! No, no, no no no. I was just trying to get rid of some food on your face!”

Carmen pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ah! Shit I’m sorry!”

I shook my head, dismissing his apologies.

“You’re fine! You’re totally fine! It was my fault.”

Despite the gentle sound of birds and the bustle of people on the lower deck, an awkward silence ensued. Blush was painfully visible on both of our cheeks. Clearly, we both wanted to forget the discomfort that had just occurred. We didn’t even dare look each other in the eyes.

Then, once the silence had lingered, the mood shifted.

We both sensed it.

We exchanged glances, our demeanors tinged with lust.

I could sense the desire swimming in his eyes.

I straightened my back, hoping to calm the butterflies in my lower abdomen.

Carmen and I cocked our heads to the side, peering into the little living area to ensure no one was loitering as we were easily visible through the sliding glass door.

We locked eyes.

His pupils were now blown out with lust, and only a faint circle of blue could be seen.

“Do-”

I gulped.

“Do you think anyone will see us?”

I whispered.

Carmen shrugged.

“Maybe.”

He spoke in hushed tones.

Whatever.

I practically leapt on him as we locked lips. The tension had been broken. As I straddled his waist, I could feel blood rushing in my ears. My heartbeat quickened to the point where distinct pumps could barely be made out.

I’ve never been this worked up over a man in my life.

Carmen's hands reached my waist. He pulled me closer till there was no more room between us. I sighed deeply into his lips, allowing my rigid form to loosen.

I was a sensible woman.

I never took unnecessary risks.

And I certainly wasn’t one to put my job on the line just so I could make out with the head chef.

But Jesus, there was something about Carmen.

There was something so arousing about how taboo this whole situation was.

He made me want to be so… bad.

I threw my arms around his shoulders, tugging him impossibly closer as his tongue slipped past my teeth. It was instantly a battle for dominance. We were two incredibly passionate people. It wasn’t in our nature to fold.

“God, you have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this.”

He mumbled sexily against my lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve fantasized about having you on top of me.”

My stomach fluttered. I wonder if he ever thought about me in bed, long after we fought. I wonder if he allowed his calloused fingers to slip below the waistband of his boxers.

I ran my nails along his scalp, eliciting a whimper from the back of his throat.

God, he was sexy.

I shifted my weight slightly atop his lap. My clothed core brushed against his erection. I groaned involuntarily, my hips instantly searching for more friction.

“You make me so hard.”

It wasn't just the heat of the day that was making me sweat. Carmen’s hands traveled toward the waistband of my dress pants.

“Please,” he groaned with desperation, “please, I wanna make you feel good.”

I desperately wanted to throw off all of my stupid fancy clothes and feel the sun on my skin while I rode him like my life depended on it. But, alas, I knew it was neither the right place, nor the right time.

“Carmen, I have to get back to work.”

I uttered between heated kisses.

“Later, though, I promise.”

I climbed off him.

Jesus, bad idea to make out with someone in the middle of a shift. Now, I was uncomfortably wet and far too aroused to finish my day with a clear head.

Well, I suppose that’s the price I pay for throwing every ounce of sensibility out the window.

“What time is it?”

Carmen asked, his chest heaving as he struggled to regain his composure.

I checked my watch. My jaw dropped.

Man, my time management skills were awful today.

“Holy shit it’s been half an hour! Your staff is probably wondering where the hell you’ve been!”

Carmen shot up, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“Oh my God I still have to make fuckin’ dessert for everyone!”

Although I am all for getting things done on time. Carmen could not go back to work with…

“Y’know, I would advise, um-maybe, going to the bathroom.”

My eyes shot back and forth between his erection and his eyes. Carmen glanced down, immediately getting the memo.

“Shit! Shit, I don’t have fuckin’ time for this!”

I placed my hands on his shoulders to keep him from getting too worked up.

“It’s okay! Just take a deep breath. I’ll tell them you’re dealing with a family emergency or something!”

Carmen shook his head rapidly.

“No, shit! I’m already behind schedule.”

He shrugged my hands off his shoulders.

“I really have to get to the kitchen Y/N.”

He began to walk away, but I grasped his shoulders, spinning his body back around to face me.

“Well, would you rather explain to your staff why you’re late, or why you’re hard.”

Carmen stalled, running his tongue over his lips.

“Yeah, on second thought that’s a good point… alright, we’ll go with your plan.”

I gave him a nod of approval. He turned to leave. But, before entering the small living area, he flipped back to face me.

“Hey, remember to find me later Y/N!”

He shouted.

I recalled our brief, yet passionate moment on the lounge chair. A grin spread slowly over my face.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t forget!”

[juliusxxxxxx]

How to start your own cult

*this is more or less a crack fic

*au where Scar is trying to use Grian’s watcher power to start a cult

*2000+ words

*probably not a one-shot

Knock knock.

No one’s answering.

Knock knock.

This time Scar banged on the door.

No one’s answering.

“Excuse me?” Said Xelqua. Their face was obscured under the shadow of their ominous purple robe, appearing as a pitch-black void. “What—are you doing?”

“What are WE doing!” Scar corrected the being, then reached forward to pull on their hood. “Take it off. You’re going to make ‘em scared.”

“No! How dare you—” Xelqua clasped tightly onto the inexplicable fabric. It felt cold to the touch and almost weightless in Scar’s hand. “There’s a sacred ritual that needs to be done before we can reveal our faces to mortals—you can't do it right after you just manifested me!”

“You’re here to fulfill my wish, right?”

“Yes…unfortunately! Stop it, mortal!”

But the deed had already been done. After the shadow was lifted, there was a face.

It's just a typical face, belonging to a person who appeared to be male, with blonde hair, black eyes, and some light freckles. Their eyes didn't seem to have pupils. Just black as ink.

“Oh…that’s what you look like.” Scar rested his hand. “I thought you were going to look way cooler. Like a cyclone or something.”

Xelqua rolled their eyes. Two eyes, how disappointing. Scar couldn't help himself but sighed.

“Now, can you tell me why we are here, mortal?” They surveyed the dreadfully dull middle-class neighborhood, under the bright midday sun. All nice houses, with neatly manicured front yards. “You dragged me here without even telling me what your wish was. It is extremely rude, in case you don't know it already.”

“My wish?” Scar puffed out his chest, wearing a bright smile on his face. “I want to start a cult.”

“…What?”

They looked at Scar with clear disgust on their normal-looking face.

“Yeah. Since I had a desire strong enough to summon a literal god, I did my research and…volià, here you are!”

He put his arm around the being's shoulders. There were many things he chose not to mention in the explanation he gave, including the graphic description of too many fresh eyeballs and organs that grossed him out. But it was all worth it in the end, right at the moment this Watcher emerged in the center of the wired rectangle he had made. It was drawn with blood, of course.

Xelqua gave him an unimpressed look.

“You seem to have some doubts,” Scar gave them a tight squeeze. “Alright, picture this: a bright, luxurious convention hall with thousands and thousands of people gathering. I am the super duper charismatic orator, preaching about fighting evil and injustice in the world with the power of true happiness. Someone shouted in the crowd, ‘Scar, how are you going to convince me, a stubborn moron who’s never been scammed in my entire life because I’m so lame and boring?’”

“And?”

“That’s when you come in, and strike ‘em with the power of thunder! Everyone trembles and kneels, offering me their life savings out of their pure, heartfelt faith.”

Xelqua stuck their tongue out.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” They brushed off his arm. “Have fun with your scam. I don't want to be a part of it.”

“No, Xelqua—but my wish!”

“I don't even want your soul anymore. It’s too…morbid for my liking.”

“Please! You haven't even heard of the amazing books I’ve been planning—”

Before he could finish his wailing, the door in front of them suddenly swung open.

“Uh…hello?”

A woman held the door, looking bewildered at the pair.

“Why, hello!”

Scar pulled the being back to the porch and put on his best expression, whether they liked it or not.

“We don't need anything—”

“No, no. We’re not salesmen. Far from them, actually.” He rummaged through his blazer and found a name card, which he handed to the housewife. He was fully prepared for this moment. He had been preparing this day for quite some time, and he was determined not to let it end in vain. “Here, take my card. The first one is for free.”

“Uh…Church of the True Happyness…of the Third Watcher?” She frowned, trying to read the wordy name. “Is this a new religion or something? Why is the ‘happiness’ spelled wrong? And why are there two ‘of’? ”

“I’m not with this lunatic—”

“Yes! A new religion. For true happiness. Just ignore my spelling mistake, please.”

Scar cut them off.

“The two ‘of’ thing is trendy. Just look around the other popular cul—churches, like the one started with an M.” He then reached both of his hands toward the housewife and shook with her eagerly. “Me and this—this—” He quickly lowered his voice and whispered to this extraterrestrial being, “what’s your pronouns?”

“I—I—he him?” The being stuttered.

“This handsome young man,” Scar patted on his back and declared, “are here to help.”

“Help?”

“Uh-huh. The lady who lives down the street mentioned that you have a faulty vacuum cleaner you got from your MLM just weeks ago. How unfortunate.”

“My MLM? Excuse you! What are you talking about? My business is legit—”

“Can I take a look at it?”

He pulled Xelqua toward the doorway and squeezed past the woman.

“This is private property! You can't just come in like this!” She frantically followed them into her own house. “Get out before I call the police!”

Scar began opening each closet in the house, ignoring her warning. It didn't take him long to find the broken house appliance in question, lying lifelessly in the dust.

“Here it is! You are a big beauty.” He pulled it out from the closet and wiped it clean haphazardly. “Xelqua?”

“Wha—you are out of your mind!” Xelqua turned towards the approaching woman and then turned back to face him. “We have to leave! I don't want to deal with your mortals’ cops—they’re notorious, even in my dimension!”

“Come on—” Scar nagged. “You’re here to fulfill my wish, right? Then consider this to be it. Fix this vacuum cleaner then consider we even.”

“…Are you serious right now?” Xelqua dropped his jaw. “You’re going to waste your one and only wish…on this?”

“I don't see any reason why not, since you’re going to leave me anyways.” He said with arms crossed. “Just do it for me.”

“And you’ll let me go?”

The being widened his pupil-less eyes. It was even more eerie than usual.

“Yeah. You are one vacuum cleaner away from freedom.”

“Get out of my house! This is the final warning!”

The woman yelled in fury, rightfully so.

“You came at the right time, ma’am.” Scar turned toward her, putting on his smile again. “We just fixed it. Can you plug it in for me?”

“…Heh?”

She halted.

“Try it out. If it doesn't work right away then we’ll leave immediately, am I right?” He gave the being a nudge.

“…Yes.”

Xelqua answered unwillingly.

The housewife knelt down to plug in the vacuum cleaner, grumbling about how absurd everything was. The moment it was turned on, a spark of purple light emitted from its indicator.

It worked.

“Phew—that was close.” Scar wiped the nonexistent sweat from his forehead. He should have just lost his soul a second ago, yet he didn't feel anything. Well, maybe he really was the chosen one who didn't have a soul to begin with.

“It…it worked?” She kept pressing different buttons on the vacuum cleaner, and they all certainly performed their functions. “How—how did you do that? My hubby can't do anything about it!”

“By the power of true happiness and the third Watcher, of course. By the way, the ‘happyness’ is actually spelled with an ‘y’, I just decided it. It’s better for trademark legalization anyway.”

Then, he grabbed Xelqua’s robe as the being tried to dematerialize and slip away from reality. A small part of his body had gone transparent already.

“What more do you want?” Xelqua protested, trying to get rid of him. “I’m leaving.”

“Give me a second,” Scar whispered to him and called the woman, still in awe, admiring her newly reborned cleaner. “Could you please help me with something? As a repayment for our service?”

“Uh…I really don't want to pay you. You seem like a scammer.”

“No—not money, yet.” He shook his head. He was rather frustrated that she would think so lowly of him, but he decided to let it pass. “Do you have the business card I just gave you?”

“…Yes?”

She began searching for it as she was instructed.

“There’s a line in the back. Can you read it out loud?”

She turned it around and started laughing immediately. “How am I supposed to read this? This is gibberish.”

“Well—I should know it beforehand…” Scar took a deep sigh and scratched his neck. Guess normal people without any knowledge would definitely not be able to read it, but he had no one to test it out for him yet. “Just repeat after me, then.”

He cleared his throat and started reciting.

“Mggoka ya orr'e.”

“Mgg…oka…ya orr’e.”

The being called Xelqua let out a short gasp as soon as the words left her mouth.

“What are you doing, mortal?”

“Ng ya bthnk.”

Scar ignored him but continued the chant.

“Ng ya b…thnk.”

She was trying her best to speak the obscure language that had been long lost in this mortal land. As each forbidden word was spoken, defying all laws of nature, the being trembled by the power of a divine offering.

“—Xelqua.”

“Xelqua…?”

Right after she finished the chant, the entire room was momentarily illuminated by a cold, purple glow. It happened so quickly, too quick for her to even realize it was emanating from herself.

“Thank you.”

Scar bowed to her, then walked decisively towards the doorway without looking back.

A few moments later, he heard another set of footsteps approaching him.

“How do you know these words?” The being known as Xelqua called as soon as they stepped out of the house.

“I did my research,” he simply said. “I know you’d follow me.”

“Of course I will…you are despicable.”

Xelqua uttered, catching up to him and walking alongside him.

“You sacrificed her soul to me for a…vacuum cleaner?”

“Yeah, I guess?”

Scar raised his shoulders.

“One more soul for you to chew on in the Void. I bet mine tastes awful so—I did you a favor?”

“I don't chew on souls! What do you think I am?”

“But that’s what all you want, am I right?”

Xelqua’s gaze locked on him for a while.

He couldn't read the emotions behind those eyes; it was as if he was staring into the Void itself. They reminded him of the legends he had learned from those ancient books about how the Watcher’s eyes can see through a person's very true self. A self. He often wondered if he even possessed one of his own.

But then, the Watcher laughed.

“What are you trying to do, mortal?”

Perhaps he actually had one after all.

“I want to start a cult!” Said Scar. “I said it from the very beginning. I'm true to my words—well, sometimes.”

“So that is your plan.” Xelqua shook his head. “I get some free souls so that you can start your dream cult.”

“You’re a smart god.” He reached out a hand toward the being. “How’s the deal?

“Sounds fine to me.” Xelqua shook it. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know. Doing the world a favor.” Scar released the being’s hand immediately. “Man, I can't wait!”

He didn't appreciate the being's lack of body temperature. He preferred interacting with real humans, especially someone who is willing to accompany him to a vibrant and dramatic apocalypse. Hopefully, cats and trees will be part of the experience.

“I’m thinking—I’m thinking we should go to a college campus next. Those students are so young and impressionable…and stupid.” He started marching down the street in victory, while the being followed him close behind. “Everyone is so anxious about their futures and—whatever the kids are worrying about nowadays. It’s perfect! You can give them some good grades or the body type of an Instagram model—or drugs, I don't care, then they will be your good little lambs.”

“Why do you hate the mortals so much, then?” After listening to his rambling in silence, the being asked.

“I don't?” Scar stopped sharply, turning toward him. “I love humanity! They are so great. So bright. So wishful and always so creative. I love them. Oh, how can I ever hate them!”

“Then why are you doing this, willing to condemn their souls for all of eternity?”

“For the money, I guess.”

“You can simply wish for it,” Xelqua said, slightly confused. “Many mortals wished for money and I granted them more than their wildest dreams.”

“Nah. That’s boring.” Scar waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll be bored to death, and nothing is more scary than that.”

Xelqua looked at him with a tilted head.

“You’re funny.”

“No, tell me I'm charismatic.” Scar continued his walk. “I need to be a cult leader after all.”

[deeplyshalllow]

Omg I’m a moron… for over a decade… I’ve interpreted the DTL lyrics as being:

Nothing matters, [except] knowing [the mantra] “Nothing Matters”.

Like hakuna matata. But just now I realised it’s

Nothing matters, [so] [the act of] knowing nothing [is what] matters

🤦🤦🤦

Still. Oof, depressing.

The causes you care about don’t matter to those in power. Trying to do or say anything about it is not fashionable, nor acceptable amongst your rank of society. It’s futile and only makes you look like a fool, it brings embarrassment and ridicule upon your associates and family, it causes disagreements and fights. All of which will make your life miserable. (There’s a cost, there are things you’ll lose, there are bridges you’ll cross…) So don’t talk about it, stop thinking about it. Heck, don’t think at all. And life will be so much easier for you. More bearable. Yikes to go grimdark, Fiyero is lucky he was just kept away in universities and not sent away for a lobotomy or something, that is if Winkie Country’s politics weren’t aligned with Animal rights

to get lighthearted again:

Don’t wish, don’t start, wishing only wounds the heart. […] Elphaba could be that activist, but Fiyero can’t be like Elphaba….. OR CAN HE *dramatic music change* (❗️Fiyero has been emboldified. ❗️Fiyero no longer gives a twig. ⁉️ Fiyero has been given a gun— wait who signed off on that, wai—)

My ex therapist once said that I overthink and care about things too much, so I’d better stop, because it was making me sick and was going to kill me. And yet, the thinking and caring too much, was also what was keeping me alive. What a Catch-22! /s Go figure!

I also realised:

Make sure you’re where less trouble is rife!

Is not

Make sure you wear less,

And therefore not suggesting that Fiyero’s go-to defence mechanism, if he finds himself in trouble, is to start stripping off. Turn that fight break-out into a fight make-out. Make love not war. For over ten years I’d thought “yeah that sounds like a philosophy he’d have.”

Ten plus slutty, slutty years

The notion of “you’re not here to be politically controversial, you’re here to promote cheer/ your job isn’t to think, your job is to stand there looking handsome” (a variation of being seen and not heard, oh dear [FOOTNOTE]) … like when Mme Morrible and Glinda prevent Fiyero from speaking to the crowd in Thank Goodness comes to mind. On the one hand, the assumption that he’s incapable of knowing anything would allow him to acquire great information as a double agent, but on the other hand he’s successfully barred from knowing that the public celebration is for his own engagement, which he wasn’t even asked about. They didn’t think he could be trusted to consent to an engagement?? Ouch. And yet they trusted that he would perform/feel socially pressured enough to people-please and accept without fuss.

To take it way further, it could even be argued as if Glinda couldn’t trust him to not be “stupid” and choose the “wrong” fiancée… (even if she thought it would be for his own good and keep him safe from trouble in the long term. If this had been the case it backfired spectacularly)

Fiyero really do be out there getting objectified and treated like an object in Act 2- it seems out of his control compared to Act 1 where it was on his own terms.

What are your thoughts on the engagement, by the way?

Do you think it encouraged any spark of resentment towards Glinda?

If they had gotten married— ie, if there was a larger time gap between Elphaba returning to the Emerald City and Fiyero still couldn’t track her down— do you think Glinda and Fiyero’s married relationship might echo that of Nessarose and Boq? In which one feels kept/caged [FOOTNOTE] by duty, and the other possessive/fearing abandonment?

(Even more grimdark au where this married Fiyero’s growing stress, depression, and risk of disobedience puts him on Morrible/Wizard-prescribed medication, which Glinda wants to believe is helping him stay happy and carefree, when really it’s just keeping his thoughts muddled… I’d cry… why did I make myself sad like that??)

* THE FOOTNOTE: any comparisons of Fiyero with Animals (given his book origins as ambiguously indigenous/a poc) outside his political alignments is unintentional on my part. But the ammo is present, I guess. Dehumanisation is a Wicked theme. But I’m leaving that potential can of worms to the pros though

This Ask turned into a terrible flow of consciousness, SINCERE apologies, *hits ask anyway*

Yeah, honestly, poor Fiyero. I think the interesting conundrum about him, and one of the reasons he's so depressed, is that he should be in a position where he has some power. He's a prince possibly an heir to the Vinkus, he's what everyone in Oz loves, handsome, charming and generally good. But it's very obvious that he thinks he can't actually do anything, so he doesn't try ("those who don't try, never look foolish"). He sort of lets life pass him by at the beginning of the musical, doing what others expect of him.

And then there's Elphaba, who isn't at all what Oz wants, but even so she does fight, she does do what is right and she cares more about her cause than what people think. And I think that is what changes and inspires him - because suddenly there is a way to do good, it opens up a world for him that he wouldn't otherwise know, and by act 2 he is happy to divert from his expected path to explore this.

Fiyero and Glinda, on the other hand... Glinda is who Fiyero would expect to end up with - both personally and by society. It's the path everyone expects both of them to take. It probably would be where he ended (or at least with a girl like her) if it wasn't for Elphaba giving him another option - a path he'd prefer. So Glinda, who is different to Fiyero because she does her best to stick to the path that is intended for her, ends up having to be the one to pull him along that path (hence the surprise engagement - clearly he wasn't proposing fast enough!)

Ultimately, of course, Fiyero is given the option to choose and follow Elphaba (the unplanned path) but had he not? I think had he not met Elphaba, he'd have probably been content enough, not happy but not knowing much better, with Elphaba but no opportunity to leave? Yeah, I think it would be an unhappy marriage, by this point in the musical, though Fiyero and Glinda clearly do care for each other, they don't actually have much in common, especially not in terms of morals. I think Fiyero would resent standing there smiling when he could be doing good, and Glinda would start blaming him for ruining the happiness that she always expected to have when she married him. I think you can already see traces of this in Thank Goodness tbh.

I hope that answers your question :)

[monstersinthecosmos]

First, you write a lengthy post claiming that Marius treats Armand like an animal, and then you wonder why Armand and Marius shippers are seen as outcasts in the fandom. You present humiliation, disrespect and devaluation as something sexual and normal in their relationship. There is a difference between not seeing Armand as an adult and independent person and not seeing him as a person at all. Like, you're literally doing ALL the work for the antis, LMAO.

If Marius sees Armand as a cat, then maybe he shouldn't be left alone with animals

just saying.

Like, 'Armand, Marius picked up a shepherd dog from the street today. You both share the same level of love, respect, and significance! 😍 But don’t be upset; being someone's dog can be great! And remember, you actually like it! 🥺'

BEST GASLIGHTING EVER

Maybe he’s okay with this situation because he doesn’t remember what real kindness feels like? Roleplay in bed for the sake of temporary humiliation is one thing, but to see someone you’re in a romantic relationship with as nothing more than an animal is just messed up. What are you even talking about? 😭

Yknow what.

I’ve been marinating on this all day and thinking about ways to respond kindly, because I think leveraging literacy at people in fandom arguments is really fucked up and that isn’t the person I want to be. I've even had my own journey in VC fandom because when I first joined Tumblr, the big meta writers were condescending as fuck and used to make me feel really stupid for liking Marius, and that's such a destructive and unwelcoming attitude. It took me a really long time to feel brave enough to even share meta, because of those folks, and now I have to worry about you chodes. And it's just a never ending Sisyphean task to cultivate a space where Marius fans feel safe. And that's for EVERY Marius fan, not just the ones you deign pure & good enough to exist. In fact, it even goes for all the book fans in general. I don't give a fuck if someone likes Marius--everyone is allowed to participate if they're not going out of their way to hurt people. You're an adult. Block people and curate your space, it's not my job to do that for you.

Everyone, at every reading level, is allowed to participate in fandom, and I think we can’t be true leftists if we don’t acknowledge the education problem in the US. (Assuming you’re American because Americans Feelings Yakuza tend to behave like this but if you’re not American, good job blending in, it's really embarrassing for you.) I don’t think I can ethically condemn the degradation of our education system and I don’t think I can condemn this sect of fandom’s violent anti-intellectualism if I don’t also show sympathy for its victims. I'm really sorry that your parents/teachers/whoever failed you this badly and I hope things get better for you, because I don't wish this on anybody.

So when I turn into a cunt in thirty seconds, I want you to know it’s not because I think you’re stupid. It’s because I think you’re a fucking asshole. <3  And I don’t care what the fuck your problem is, it’s YOUR problem, and we don’t have to tolerate this type of thought policing and fascism in a fandom space. You don’t get to talk to me like this just because you don’t like stuff that I write.

Having said that, I also am just, particularly fucking baffled by how incoherent and ideologically unsound this ask is, not to mention how blindingly, willfully ignorant it is. Like, I hate to say this, but it’s SO stupid that I almost can’t believe someone would actually say this to me, and it makes me wonder if you’re like, an outside agitator pretending to be one of these Mariusblr morons to bait me. So I wondered if I shouldn’t validate it with a response, but then I thought,

Fandom deserves to see this lol

You actually did a good job of imitating this attitude that I DO see, for real, in this fandom, so like maybe it’s a public service to bait me to get me to talk about it. So I guess I will.

Now, I did talk about this topic here and I said what I need to say. I already said everything I needed to say on the topic of doting upon the cute little mortal, and to send me this anon after reading that post, the reading comprehension is either ABYSMAL or you’re just pulling an OH SO YOU HATE WAFFLES on me which is like. Why. Lol.

And I can’t help someone who’s determined to misinterpret everything I will ever say, no matter what. But again, I’m kinda posting this as a fandom PSA because this is a great example of the braindead nonsense that goes on in Mariusblr and I think the people deserve to laugh at you lol, so if you want to misinterpret me some more, I can’t help you.

We’re not gonna discuss Marius in this post. What we’re going to discuss is the idea that “””THE ANTIS””” are out to get us, and the irony of couching anti hysteria in this exact message.

So let’s go back to basics and refresh on what the fuck a fandom anti is.

So when you talk about FANDOM ANTIS, I actually have to ask: Babe are you seeing yourself right now? Are these antis in the fucking room? Is the call coming from inside the house?

You don’t get to have a little bit of censorship, or a little bit of harassment.  If someone outside of our fandom saw this post, without the existing context of who Marius and Armand are, they’d think YOU were the anti for telling me how to interpret this ship, not to mention whatever the fuck is this weird kinkshaming. Censorship is bad, full stop. It's not, censorship is only bad when it's the thing I like. Same for leaving people twatty anons. Bullying people is still bad, and you don't get decide who deserves it.

You don’t get to cry about antis and then pop into people’s inboxes to ridicule them because they didn’t read the book the same way you did. You don’t get to lecture me about kink and ship dynamics. YOU ARE NOT FIGHTING ON THE SIDE YOU THINK YOU’RE FIGHTING ON.

And isn’t it ironic that I’ve been Mariusing on tumblr for like, unfortunately, eight fucking years now lmao RIP, and I’ve been harassed about Marius MORE by you fuckin dweebs than I have by the actual antis.

Now, again.

I never want to tease anyone for their reading comprehension. I’m not making fun of you. I’m gonna spell this out because I want to help you, because I can see that reading isn’t your strong suit.

The fight about antis & proshippers & censorship is not a crusade about character apologism and defending ships as being moral, it’s about distinguishing fiction from reality and allowing people to enjoy fucked up art.

You aren’t accomplishing what you think you’re accomplishing here. Like, first of all. I don’t give a single flying fuck about “”the antis””. Let them masturbate in abject shame in the privacy of their pitch black bedrooms. It’s not my business. What horrifies me here is that you yourself are the anti in this situation.

You are in my inbox scolding me for my amoral shipping.

You are in my inbox upset with me because I celebrated that a ship I like is fucked up.

A proshipper would’ve read my post and gone “Eh. I disagree but that’s okay.” And kept scrolling. Maybe they even block me! That’s fine too!

But how the fuck are you gonna sit there crying about antis when you’re the one harassing everybody lol.

And let’s not jerk off here; the sincerity with which you are complaining about antis in my inbox is SO fucking lame. Like can we please go outside?

I’m no stranger to fandom drama (like I said, I’ve been Marius Tumbling for like 8 years and I’ve done my time in Sheith Hell) and I understand when these terms are useful shorthand for a fandom-specific problem. But I also think, what if we grow up and speak honestly about what antis are? It really blunts the harm of the entire ideology, especially when you're misusing it this egregiously, and I think there are times when we deserve to take censorship and fascism seriously, because it's not a coincidence that it's spreading inside fandom at the same speed it's spreading outside in the real world, and I want you to think really hard about which side you're on.

Like, what if we use the term “conservative” or “Frollo” or “fandom police” or “FANDOM MAGA” ?? You come to me upset that I’m somehow giving some boogeyman ammunition when like. THEY ALREADY HATE MARIUS, WHO THE FUCK CARES. When you change the topic from “Fiction is allowed to be fucked up” to “It’s okay to like Marius because he actually didn’t do anything wrong” you’re COMPLETELY missing the point, and in the same motion you are upset with ME for implying that Marius did something wrong.

And it’s so fucking hypocritical? Like this is the same as when the fandom conservatives have ACAB in their bio while also harassing people--you are adopting language to fit into an identity when you don't actually understand what you're saying. I would've thought VC fans--especially Marius fans--would be more aware of cult behavior & groupthink and see the red flags more easily. (Again, having sympathy for you: Please escape this cult.)

How often do we see arguments break out in fandom where we go “If you’re upset with Marius, why aren’t you upset with everyone else?” Or like, I CAN ACCEPT THE MURDERING AND RAPE BUT DRAW THE LINE AT WHIPPING THE 17 YEAR OLD. Like. Where do YOU draw the line?

Is it okay to talk about Marius as a murderer? But we’re not allowed to say that he has some emotional problems? Also didn't one of you chucklefucks accuse me of being ablest lmao the irony.

It’s also fascinating that this camp in fandom is constantly crying about how like, antis DON’T UNDERSTAND ANNE RICE and how MARIUS/ARMAND IS CANON and yet …………………. Was anything I said not also canon? And where do you get the balls to use Anne Rice as a shield when she also said the same things that I said. She wrote the fucking book.

You know what.

I feel really strongly that like, in a fandom, people need to have better etiquette when they complain about THE THING vs THE FANS OF THE THING. For example, I have zero problem with someone coming out of TVA disgusted and triggered and writing analysis of Marius being a disgusting creep. We don’t have the right to tell someone not to feel that way.

What I DO have a problem with is when people say “Marius is a disgusting creep and his fans are gross for enjoying it.”

And what YOURE saying, essentially, is that I’m gross for enjoying Marius in the way I read him.

Not to be like, a fucking, egomaniac, but. I have to say this lol. Do you know who I am?

Are you new here?

Have I not worked hard enough to establish that he’s my favorite literary character of all time and I adore him to death?

But I have different headcanons than you so I’m a bad person?

Anyway.

This has gone on long enough, I think I’ve made my point.

I genuinely can’t tell if someone like ChatGPT’d this anon to me just to rile me up and get me mad at that side of Mariusblr, but the truth is that like. I’ve seen them say these things. I’ve been blocked by these folks. Every time I write meta where I acknowledge that Marius isn’t perfect, they vague me to fuck. So honestly like. It’s not out of the range of possibility and I’m going to take this opportunity to talk about it because some of us are fucking normal about a book and we just want to have fun and post meta and write fics and like. If you don’t like my meta and fics you can simply move along.

And you know what else!!

WE ALL SEE THIS. You make fandom uncomfortable for everybody. Every time I do acknowledge this, I get people in my inbox talking about how uncomfortable you’ve made them and how they became hurt and decided not to share in fandom anymore. That’s you doing that. It isn’t ~ the antis ~. It’s you, because you don’t let anybody enjoy the books the way they want to enjoy the books. And I think it’s really interesting that I’ve noticed that half of fandom sort of cannibalizing itself lately. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that  this whole group of clowns blocked me around the same time, when their jackass ringleader originally got mad at me for flagrantly misunderstanding something I said. This is that same abysmal reading comprehension and violent anti-intellectualism coming back to bite you in the ass. And so like, I have to also ask, if you have some issue with me, maybe consider the source, and if this person is perhaps a complete douchebag who will cannibalize their own friends the second they step out of line. And I wonder if there are any receipts for my alleged atrocious behavior, or if I was always just minding my own business and writing fanfic and sharing meta and being nice to people, and encouraging people to ship whatever they want, and allowing people to read the book differently than I did.

You don’t get to tell people what type of content they’re allowed to create. If you’re very concerned about how people read Marius, maybe write your own meta. This is MY space, not yours, and you’re not going to kinkshame and censor me, and you’re not going to bully me.

This is ridiculous and you’re a joke.

[yawntu]

Golden Hour

A/N: ngl i’ve been fiending to write more Tsu’tey but y’all can’t let me become a one trick pony fr. This one’s a little self indulgent my legs be kicking and shit. This isn’t proof read but will be eventually LMAO. I just wanted to get it out bc ppls were messaging me, I tried giving u actual plot this time. Sully reader, Neteyams twin &lt;333 why does tumblr always eat the end half of my posts what the FUCK

pairing(s): Ao’nung x (Sully)(f) Reader

word count: 10k

warnings: NSFW MDNI, weed oop, squirting, 2 little slaps but they’re not hard, consent king, mating, standing sex?, dacryphilla, semi public, a little bit of degrading / mean bits but not really, he just thinks you’re real pretty idk, size kink, brat taming if u squint readers got a bit of a catty attitude, you both have attitudes, idiots in love, PINING, idk i have a soft spot for idiots in love, Ao’nungs so in love with u, i’m about to start getting ppl to read these over and do the tags for me bc idk how to

na’vi glossary: skxawng: moron, Ole’eytkan: clan leader, kurkung: asshole, vrrtep’ite: demoness, Nga yawne lu oer: i love you, tanhì: star, kxener: I took park of the word that describes the act of smoking, idk I’m out here making up Na’vi slang.

Perhaps you were in such a delightful mood today because of the rich scented soaps and the pretty shimmer body oils that left your skin hydrated and vibrant after your bath, or perhaps it was the fact that Tsireya had just done your hair with little pearls and shells the night previous.

You’ve grown to love so many things that Awa'atlu offered you. You think, however, that your favorite thing was the sheer amount of turquoise geothermal warmed springs scattered around the bustling seaside village. You had often found yourself alone now that you had grown up, appreciating the peace that solitude brought you. Soaking in the warm watered spring of the mangrove beaches not terribly far from the village only added to said peace. Besides being a good place for one to watch the sun rise in the morning, it was also a good place to be left alone. As it wasn't an increasingly popular place to bathe it meant you got to spend your morning with pretty scented soaps, oils and creams while eating fruit and enjoying a kxener all in your preferred solitude. It wasn’t that you didn’t love spending time with friends and family- in all honesty a war torn childhood made you appreciate them and the peace you now lived in even more.

A fact you attempt to remind yourself off when an obnoxious smack of feet against the rocky grounds of the warm springs past the mangals pull you from your fruit eating haze. Your head snapped over to the sound, ready to scold someone for disrupting your tranquil morning- yet your eyes fall upon Aonung’s advancing form. You can’t help but allow a quick smile before your act begins. Your faux scowl at his towering approaching form.

“I literally just got in, what could you possibly want of me this early in the day?”

It’s a lie you tell as you lean back on the rocky wall of the spring, pointing two accusatory fingers towards him. You had been in long enough to quickly wash your hair and body. Even enough time to oil the ends of your hair, and though you were quick with it if he ended your bath here you’d at least have enjoyed your little acts of self care. No doubt you’d have to get dressed and follow him somewhere to help with something you’d much rather not be doing on your supposed free day. If the Eyktanay was saunting over to you, then no doubt your perfect morning would be a fleeting moment crushed to dust at your feet.

He gives you an look of dumbfounded distress, brow muscle jutting up into an arch while his lip curls up into a contemptuous grin,

“And to think I thought we were dear friends who enjoyed each other's company, vrrtep’ite,”

He is silly looking, as he squats at the edge of the spring, large imposing arms dangling between his legs, his tail curved towards you, eyes unnaturally trained at the horizon despite the fact he’s apparently cross with you. You can’t help but grin up at him, enjoying the quips and banter he often offered you; yet showed you enough respect as to not oogle at you.

Part of you was surprised to have him stumble upon you, as of late he is usually too busy to share a moment with him before the eclipse. He grabs the kxener next to your bowl of fruit, and the flintstones, barely looking at you. It’s endearing, how he holds the smoke between his full lips, his too big hands managed to spark rocks together to light it. For his towering frame, Aonung moves rather gracefully. His jaw is sharp as it clenches when the herbs spark at his face, eyes fluttering. You watch the muscles of his neck and shoulders flex when he puts the tool down and moves to hold the kxener with his left hand. He grabs a berry motioning towards you,

“What?”

His voice is haughty as he notices you staring. Even as he talks out of the corner of his mouth, lips holding the kxener smoke from fully creeping past his pointy white canine and incisor. The way his face contorts makes you giggle, resting your arm on the rock he was perched on,

“I don’t know. It’s silly seeing you act so civilized,” you say as you run one of your nails down his ankle to mess with him, “Decide you want to enjoy my brunch, huh? What, wrestling a tsurak too brutish today?”

He is instantly making a face, mimicking your voice in a faux girlish shrill as he finally grabbed hold of what he was smoking, seating himself fully, then plopping the fruit in his mouth giving you a displeased look.

It had been a long time since he was a truly troublesome, rough edged hooligan and though you would have still called him a hooligan to this day, Ao’nung was proud of how he had grown. Though he had his stubborn and even volatile moments he had won the close friendship of your twin brother, and even the younger siblings he once put in perilous danger. You had all long let that dead pa’li lie.

“You are the jungle savage,” he jokingly sneers, handing the kxener back down to you, then poking at your forehead for annunciation.

The mix of the thickly sweet and tangy fruit on top of the sour, peppery and earthy taste of the kxener is pleasant, but the fact that you can taste the balm that was on his lips is what makes your tail swish slowly in the water. 

“You’re mad your mother likes me better than you right now,”

You nod matter of factly to the freshly added tattoo creeping up his shoulder, an obsidian addition to his growing collection. Ronal was displeased with who had done it, not so much the design. Soon he'd be covered in them, rarely a part of his pretty face untouched by ink. Ronal knew this, yet it was in her nature to be argumentative. You didn’t stick around for the argument as by the time Ao’nung walked completely into their home, you and his sister had made a quick dash out as to not inherit the wrath of Ronal. The two had been bickering over everything since.

“Ha!” His laugh is boisterous and booming like the storms that would crack down over the ocean, “I am my mothers favorite! She’d drown you before-“

Drown was a funny idea. And now that he didn’t have your lit morning smoke in his hand, there was nothing defending him from your swift hand clutching the wrist closest to you, dragging him forward into the depth of the spring. It was a quick decision really, you had been a little shocked you did it considering if you didn’t pull him with such force he’d have surely hit the rock you were currently seated on- and this rather foolish quick decision meant that poor Ao’nung was as equally not prepared for the assault. The splash of his bulking body is huge, unceremonious and forces you to quickly turn half your body to avoid the brute of its wave.

The mischief is worth it as he rises from the water unharmed yet in disbelief. His sea-foam eyes wide open, curls sticking to his forehead as they fall from his silly little bun. Seeming to be dumbfounded that you dared to pull the practically aquatic man into such waters. As if he hadn’t stepped towards a rocky plateau as he stood up, and that the water barely reached his belly button.

“At least you did not drown-”

Perhaps if it wasn’t for the pesky second eyelid of the Metkayina then the water would have blinded him long enough for you to playfully escape from the splash he sent your way; far too powerful of a crime as the ends of your hair rewet and stick to your torso. It’s a foreign feeling as your hair had already begun to dry under the intense heat of the sun previously.

“You’re the worst out of the lot of you,” he interrupts himself with a sneeze from inhaling the water he wasn’t prepared to breath in, “i’m still clothed, skxawng,”

It makes you laugh, he seems genuinely annoyed but it still bemuses you. They were always wet and in and out of the water. How could it have possibly mattered to him, you were sure he’d have gone diving once he was content with ruining the peaceful start of your morning.

You knew him. You knew he came here to pick on you in his usual manner until something else caught his attention and he’d leave you alone and unfortunately missing him. So you’d enjoy your moment of terrorizing him back. You liked humbling him. Especially now that he’s growing closer and closer to being Ole’eytkan.

You obviously wouldn’t have ever grown to be as forward with your hazing had his sister not emboldened you; and though he stands ahead of you, almost posturing, you both knew there was an unspoken rule that Ao’nung lets you tease him. Though you danced across the exasperated too-far line, Ao’nung would take a great deal from you with a playful surrender. You huff the herb one more time before passing it to his dripping form, a peace treaty.

“You interrupted my bath, it is only fair,”

You’re far too occupied with how soft the almost too warm skin of his hand was when it was wet, and the tantalizing shivers it sends up your arm when your fingers make contact with him to notice that he sees you. Maybe he had inhaled too much water as you had caught him off guard, or maybe he had just inhaled smoke too deeply immediately after you had stolen the physical breath from the vacuum of his lungs, but Ao’nung is entirely too entranced with the moment that plays in front of him that it makes him dizzy.

The sun rising behind him was finally starting to lose its pinkish hues, casting warm golden rays onto your freshly washed glassy skin. The oils across your azure skin reflected the sparkly luminance that only the crushed up shells of Awa’atlu could provide. He can’t help but think the sun looks its best reflecting off the amber of your eyes. Though you are one of- if not the most beautiful girl- he had had the pleasure of knowing, the golden rays of the rising sun dancing across the apples of your supple cheek weren’t where his eyes have trailed to. In fact, your long hair moved slightly from where it had been covering your out of the water torso. Though you had never really worn much coverings, the fact that you were not only nude, but comfortable enough to be relaxed nude around him made his chest feel just as fuzzy as his head.

He’s glad you’re lost in thought so he can take a split second to stare at you breast without you noticing, despite the almost painful desire to stare at your gracile forest form he doesn’t want to be caught staring. He’s only been caught staring at you once- not by you of course. For someone so clever he was surprised you were so oblivious to the world around you sometimes. No- he had been caught staring by your twin brother who had rightfully punched him right in the back, making contact with a rather fresh, and rather painful tattoo. Though it turned into a light hearted, overly rowdy horseplay between friends, Ao’nung understood the undertone. If he touched you, Neteyam might just kill him.

“If you wanted me to take a bath with you, you could have just asked,”

Why in Eywas great paradise did he say that? He was just thinking about how your brother might knock his teeth out for the fact that he had been staring at your bare chest and he felt as though stupid mouth spoke on its own accord.

He was glad you turned so red at his words though- probably out of anger at the implication. It overshadowed how he had embarrassed himself- drew your attention away from the embarrassing mauve heat creeping up his own neck. He hated how visible the contrast of flushed skin was compared to yours. The splash of the water you sent towards him forces him to hold the half done kxener far above his own head.

“I’m surprised you even know how to bathe, kurkung,”

He thinks it’s cute how quickly one arm covers your chest as you go to sit up slightly- suddenly very aware that you’re more exposed then usual, despite the fact you didn’t seem to care before- reaching to grab at his arm and try and snatch the kxener from his hand. It’s his turn to laugh at you know, and plop himself down on the water smoothed stone you had lounged on.

“I’m very clean actually. It’s hard to have such magnificent hair,” He hands you the kxener and with his other hand motions to his bun.

You snort, rolling your eyes and taking the herb you had both been using as a peace treaty from him. Your body turns towards him, head propped up on one of your pretty delicate hands, and the other holding the kxener to your pretty plump lips. Had he not embarrassed himself once already he’d have just sat here and blatantly watched you smoke in the morning light.

“It is going to grow thin if you keep it up all the time,” You motion to him.

Though you knew it was probably a pile of talioang dung, and that his hair would be fine despite the past five years of his well known bun- you couldn’t help but love when his long curly terraces fell down the expanse of his prodigious back. You wouldn’t waste an opportunity to convince him to keep it down.

“I’ll tattoo my bald head,” he’s grinning when he tells you, mimicking the way you had propped your head up on your hand, and reaches to swirl one of your own wavy strands around his finger, “Probably shave yours in your sleep to get back at you for jinxing me,”

“Your mother would scalp you if you did such a cruel thing, very unbecoming of the Eyktanay,”

You mock his status over you. He supposed that was fitting for you. The eldest daughter of the Toruk Makto was sure to have an issue with authority, 

“Well this is rather unbecoming of me. I could be doing countless other things but sitting in a spring with you smoking a kxener and watching the world go by,”

His argument is valid. Though you know he’s joking there is a twinge in your stomach. An argumentative spark that tells you he isn’t joking- that he did not prioritize you the way you had grown to prioritize him. 

The snippy comment rolling off your tongue dies as Ao’nung’s shoulders hunch slightly, leaning his head further down into your space. At this point you were close enough that he could hit the rolled smoke from your own hand.

It was ridiculous. Evil even. How Eywa dangled what you wanted so cruelly in front of your face. The cruel waltz of tension that has suffocated the friendship as you aged. The fact that you can feel your stomach drop at the feeling of his lips so close to your fingers, could taste the shared air between the two of you. Here you sat almost stunned in the shadow of his form.

The Metekyana were large- huge even. An’oung was large amongst them. Well into ten feet you’d assume considering he was ever so taller then his father when he stood straight up. In comparison to his big, stubborn bull-head, your sylphlike hands holding the mostly finished intoxicant to his tantalizing lips looked delicate and small. He could break you. He could toss you around like a rag doll and you’d even thank him after.

You feel bad for the addled look on your face, it’s just been increasingly vexing growing into adulthood due to this bastard. You know you really want to be grinning at his close proximity and the fact that he trusts you so close to his face with something burning. You should be cooing over the fact that he flutters his pretty eyes closed and admires his long eyelashes. Yet you couldn’t stop the bubbling of an attitude under your skin. You knew you were attracted to him, most people had known you had fancied him. Especially when he had grown comfortable enough around you to privy you to the earnest, callowly charming and flustered side of him- but there was something about the way life turned out that kept you both in this tense ‘we aren’t together’, but we are very obviously much more than friends.

You were an older sister at your core. Bossy and with a desire to be the center of attention; Ao’nung thought it was a game to play, and would never fall at your feet the way you charmed others into. At least he’d put up a fight in the pathetically self imposed game you had both committed to.

“Others would gladly take your place, leave then, find somewhere else to be,” you find your resolve finally, after your embarrassing pause. 

With a roll of your eyes, you snatch your hand from his lips. In annunciation of your irritation you had stood up slightly, careful to not remove your body from the turquoise waters of the mangrove spring as you began to move towards the end furthest from him.

He doesn’t really like the years-long game you’ve been playing at this moment, and he really doesn’t like that you have moved away from him. He’s tired of competing in this ridiculous long winded courting ritual with you. He’s been at it since he had made you sob when he left Lo’ak outside of the reef all those years ago. It was the first time Ao’nung had been embarrassed by his own actions. He had been spoiled his whole life, taking whatever he could want- and for the first time he realized he had taken something from someone else. He had taken happiness from someone. He thanked Eywa for letting Lo’ak return relatively unharmed, and swore the wretched sobs that had fallen from your lips never again even ticked the back of your throat.

Year's. Years he has gone out of his way to emulate the humility you so easily radiate. You had forced him to grow; for year's he's learned how to be a man who deserved you. He wasn't a perfect man, in his eyes still not very deserving of you; he was still loud, impulsive and painfully cocky. It’s probably what had pushed him to wrap a large hand around your delicate wrist, unceremoniously pulling you back until the back of your thighs touched him, tail squishing between you and the muscle of his thigh.

Though Ao’nung would pride himself in the fact that you haven't sobed once or even cried often in years, he can't say you didn't hiss. As you are right now, a soprano squeal of a hiss right in his face. Now that the kxener was finishing you were pleasantly buzzing; and the quick drawback of your body had made you dizzy. It’s not his actions that have you embarrassed; you're embarrassed your stomach is fluttering at the feeling of coming into contact with his legs and torso, comfortably aware of the heat he added to the warmth of the water. You try to hide the embarrassment of being close to him like this with only half-real annoyance. Had you not been so civilized Ao’nung was sure you would snap that pretty little jaw at him bite a chunk out of his face,

“I am naked!” Your voice cracks as you yelp, hand landing on his thigh, using the waters aid to help elevate yourself off of his lap, mortified as you were far too close to the water's surface to enjoy the privacy the turquoise water had provided you with yet the idea of your bare skin on his was somehow scarier.

“I am not,” he remarks, taking the kxener from you, moving the hand that had grabbed you to land on your thigh.

You freeze in his lap. Now that the sun's completely up there's nothing to hide you. No beautiful colors to bounce off of your face that you can pass off the blushes accreditation.

“Sit and finish it, you wanted to enjoy a relaxing morning- you do not seem so relaxed,”

You blame the softly buzzing high for the softness you feel for him at this moment. Assuring yourself that his stupid oval head wasn’t terribly handsome and that his warm blue eyes didn’t make your chest tighten. You wouldn’t admit to any of the stupid love sick thoughts that have plagued your mind the entire time he’s been here with you.

More so, you certainly wouldn’t admit that despite his usually rowdy behavior and need to bicker with you, sitting against his imposing form made you feel safer than ever before. It was the work of a herbal paranoid if he dared poked fun at you for how it did not take much convincing for you to sit yourself down on his lap. Flinching at the feeling of the fiber of his tweng against the nude back of your thigh and glutes. You hope he doesn’t notice, even going as far as to lay your head on his chest before doing as he told you and lifting the dwindling end to your lips,

“Don’t you want to finish it?” you ask him, refusing to look up at him. Instead you stared intently at the sun over the sea. He runs his fingers across the expanse of your shoulder.

“It’s yours, I want you to enjoy your morning. Besides, unlike you I have real things to do this afternoon,”

You huff at his jab, knowing he respected the work you did around the village and the aid you offered his mother. A small part of you aches over the lingering idea that he didn't think you enjoyed the time spent with him.

“I've already enjoyed my morning. It’s not often the future Ole’eytkan spares time for me and graces me with his presence,”

You know he's busy, you'd never actually hold that over his head. And when you feel him move your hair off of your shoulder and lay his head on top of your own you almost feel bad for reminding him he’s so busy. Especially when he so sweetly caresses your decolletage as well. You didn’t understand how you always danced this edge with Ao’nung. Years of this pining and yet you’d both always end up here. Stuck in a strangely intimate moment that neither of you would dare go past. You are glad to finish though, finally tossing the item that had kept you both in this painfully frustrating stalemate, maybe you’d go sulk the rest of the day as he was busy doing Eywa knows what.

It’s your ego really, that makes you want to end the morning. Or embarrassment. How could you be sitting naked on top of him; how could you have let this go on all morning. Not just this morning actually, how could you have played this game so long with him when you were so unsure of his own feelings.

“I’m going to prune though so we should get out,”

Your voice is snippy when you speak to him. Hurt evident in your voice as you look up, and finally notice that he’s staring intently down at you. Committing the sight of your nude lissome Omatakyan form perched on his lap to memory. His wagging tail rippling the water and allowing him to watch the waters reflection dance across the bare sapphire of your skin. You were often close to Ao’nung. He didn’t make you uncomfortable in the slightest. You had sat in similar positions, been casually intimate- hell when you were younger the whole group of you would sleep in piles. Being pressed against him wasn’t new to you, yet this is very different. He had made the situation you were in very different in the span of minutes.

“Ao’ i’m serious-“ your voice cracks, “We’ve been here far too long, i’m sure someone will come looking for you-”

“Only me, you and Eywa here,”

It’s said with such a coy yearning you can’t help but flush purple. It wasn’t often that he had ever caught you off guard- at least not to this extent. Despite his usual impulsive nature he was usually relatively predictable when it came to you,

“Y-you’re never serious,” your ears flatten, when you try to turn your head, however his hand is quick to catch your cheek, and he uses his thumb to smush both together. 

It’s not as easy for your tail to wag submerged in the water, not as easy as his does. You’re fighting against the water but you can’t help the flick of your tail- there was too much going on. You felt too much. You’re not really sure why you keep up the charade. He knew you had a great deal of admiration for him surely he wouldn’t have drawn this out had he not been interested in you?

“How could I not be serious when the most enchanting woman in all of Pandora is looking up at me like that?” and his big hand is dwarfing your cheeks and you can swear that you’d choke if you spoke, “Huh? All shy now are you?”

You weren’t shy. How could he call you shy? Shy was hiding away from him or avoiding conversation. He couldn’t call you shy if he did things to embarrass you into dumbfounded silence.

“You drive me ins-”

Your scold dies at the feeling of his kiss on your lips. It’s soft and his breathing against your face makes you smile. It's embarrassing how instant the grin is. How can you be mad when he’s kissing you finally. Perhaps you’d just say you were throwing a nantang a bone when your greedy berry stained tongue eagerly glided across his lip, or when your hips dug down into his lap, curling your tail around his thigh. Ao’nung could justify that his hands gripping and groping frantically as your sun warmed torso pulling you back into him was him doing the same.

And when one of your hands falls to caress your nails against the skin of his lower abs he can’t stop his hips from jerking and thrusting upwards into you, sending your body jostling up. Prematurely ending the oral exploration of both of your tongues.

There’s a string of his saliva connecting you together and his hands brace your jolted form. He means to ask you if you’re alright much quicker then he does. He can’t help but get distracted by your pretty flushed cheeks and with your wide amorous amber eyes. It set him a thrill with a sense of his own stomach warming bliss. He can’t shake his worry though. Worried he had pushed too far too suddenly.

“C’mon, you’re not ready for all this yet,” he rubs his nose against yours, and lets you kiss him softly again. 

        He paws at your hip, and then motions back towards the village with his head breaking your lips apart. How could you have possibly wanted to go back to the village now? You give him a queried look at his cocky barb,

“Perhaps you’re the one not ready for me,”

The raillery in your voice is a comfort that would have made his knees buckle had he not been seated. He smiles, because he knows you’re both right; and his cheeks hurt from the grin as he watches your eyes flutter close as your noses touch once more. A magnetic force that kept bringing your faces close to one another. You couldn’t see him now that your eyes were closed and you were enjoying the comfort of being close to him. It made him shift in his seat. You couldn’t see him. Not now. Not when he wanted you to see him so terribly. See how hard he had worked for you- see how badly he wanted you to just tell him you wanted him so he could move past this terrible feeling of insecurity he had over you. Then again perhaps, he thought it meant more in this moment that you knew him. Knew him so well that you could see past his coyness. As if to coax him further you bite down gently at his lip.

How could he leave you wanton like this? He relishes in the the sweet wiggle of your body at the gentle press of the pads of his calloused fingers roaming the length of your spine and dancing across the valley of your breasts. Soft and slow—just for the sake of caressing you. He has wanted to touch you like this for as long as he could remember. None of his lingering touches or platonic embraces could pale to the invigorating pulse your skin against his gave him. And he’s barely touching you- ghosting over your pretty sapphire skin and you’re trembling. Trying to squirm away from his lithe hands as to prevent his gliding fingers in their  pursuit towards your peaked nipples. He’s sure the drag of his fingers as he groped at you was probably more tortuous than any direct overstimulation he could cause you but he wouldn’t grant you that clemency. Not until he feels satisfied that you’ve been disproven. That he was more than capable of taking care of you, more than ready to.

Ao’nung is competitive, and you know this. He knows you know this. How often have you both gotten into trouble over silly competition? He can’t help but huff at the thought that you knew how to press his buttons and roll his hips up once more. The sound of water squishing between where you meet makes your ears fall flat against your head and your nails dig into the soft skin below his abs.

“Ya, yer gonna see,” He moves with you easily, sliding from under you and propping your knees up on the smooth stone you had both sat on previously, standing behind you. 

Ao’nung casts an imposing shadow over yourself and the ground around you. The water only offers to cover you to the top of your thigh, rendering you the most exposed you’ve ever been for him. You can’t help but shift your weight and squirm at the feeling of Ao’nung wrapping his hands around the freshly cleaned halo of curls that were your last sense of modesty. Now that he’s pushed your hair over your shoulder there’s nothing stopping him from seeing all of you. You attempt to focus on how the ends of your hair dip into the water, or how tan your freckling hands and arm appear next to the light lime wash of the smooth stony structures of the springs.

You feel strange, knees on the smooth stone you had originally sat on, palms bracing yourself on the stoney ledge as his prodigious hands dance up and down the shape of your curves while he causes in the water to plop rhythmic against your skin as he gives into his desire to rut against your form quickly. He is even quicker to catch himself and return his focus to you. You should feel much more vulnerable than you do at this moment- quite literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. Yet the cooling overcast of his form protecting you from the sweltering rays of light made you feel far more secure then you had previously thought. 

It’s tantalizing- dizzying even when you feel his fingers run down the expanse of your back. It was easy for him to become distracted with the enchanting visage of your form arched prettily in front of him.

He knows you were right. He was nervous. For more reasons than one. Firstly the longer the sun made its ascension into the sky the more likely anyone could have the misfortune of stumbling upon you. More importantly he knows he should not mate with you right here. That you deserve much better than this. He aches knowing this is the closest he has ever gotten to it despite years of literally grasping at sand for the chance to be mounted over you like he was now.

Ao’nung did not have the resolve of a man you deserved though. He couldn’t swallow the anxiety he felt over the fact that perhaps if he didn’t come across you today someone else would have. And you would have been bent over for them. He wanted to do this much better for you- as cliche as it sounded. Yet, when he watched his hand dwarf the intricate and soft dips of the dimples that framed the sides of your softly twitching tail, his resolve snapped.

“Yer’ gonna be my Tsahìk?”

He watches you jolt under his sudden slurred words, the added stimulation of his left palm gripping the pliable sphere of meat that was only centimeters from his own longing groin adding to your need. Gripping just a bit too roughly. He didn’t mean to handle you so impolitely, he could not bring himself to have any resolve as his fingers curl against your skin to pull you apart for him. He’s embarrassed at how excited he is to receive the reward of your pretty moan at his chilling intrusion. He had been blessed with hearing your whiney groans and faux whimpery cries many times before, but he had never been privy to such an entrancing sound as your desperate moan.

He can’t stop his upper body from clambering down, hands quickly bracing his imposing form down on the same rock that held you up. His face instantly in the visible crook of your neck. All you can do is turn and gaze dumbfounded at his hand that twitches almost too closely to your own while you listen to him practically pant in your alert ear. His panting breath cracks in your ear when you raise your hips slightly, the feeling of the ridge of your tail, and curve of your ass against his ever throbbing manhood results in his own guttural moan followed by a sloppy open mouth kiss under your ear.

“Ao’nung, please,”

You don’t know what you’re pleading for him to do and he can’t believe you could be the one pleading right now considering how tightly you had wound him up already. He can’t bring himself to understand the complexities of your own emotions when he can now fully feel his body on top of yours.

“Please what, huh? Want me to mate you? G’onna be mine?” He enunciated his words with uncharacteristically gentle kisses to your neck. 

You hear the wet plap of him forcing the fabric of his tweng down enough for you to feel the weight of him on your back. You’re unsure if the tender caress from your sensitive belly up to the valley of your breast from his free hand is what makes you shiver, or the feeling of the heavy tip of his cock that still manages to hang down onto your body despite Ao'nungs desperate grip at his own base.

Instantly one of your hands reaches to clasp around his wrist that has moved electrifyingly close to your breast, dinging your nails into him ever so slightly, causing him to jerk slightly. You huff at the feeling of his tip smearing precum across the small of your back.

“I thought you wanted me to enjoy my morning- why must you torture me instead,”

There was that pretty desperate whine. That inexorable and perpetual babble that you put on to get the things you wanted from those around you. He wanted to say he had better resolve then them, but the sound of your frustration laced whine has the weight of his cock twitching against the pudge of your ass. The wrist you had grabbed onto continued its ascension up your body, fingers dancing up your neck until he could hold your mandible.

It’s endearing really, the view he’s greeted with. With the easy squish of the cute chub of your cheeks together between his big hand, he’s effortlessly forcing you to look up at him. The Metkayina were expressive, maybe because they signed to each other a great deal- you wouldn’t know. But you’d still thank Eywa for it, as you can’t deny the aura of pure desire that radiates off of his face like the heatwaves the morning sun had begun to cast across the horizon. Eyes blown out wide, and the ends of his kiss swollen lips curled into a soft smile.

A soft smile that doesn't match the feeling in your stomach when his big hand leaves your ass and wraps around the base of your kuru. You swear you see Eywa in his eyes, and he swears he hears her in your gasp. He’s quick to push his lips back onto yours despite the unnatural position. And though your spine and neck ache from the arch he has pulled you back into you can’t help but clank your teeth together as you kiss again. You’re not sure who’s spit is all over you both; all you know is the sloshing sound of your mouths and the embarrassing sound of water sloshing at the disturbance of his rocking hips that ground his twitching cock against your ass. He wanted to reach down and force your tail out of the way so he could relish in the feeling of you hammocking his throbbing cock- but he had something far more important to deal with.

The most beautiful girl in all of Pandora was sparkling in the sun below him, and you wanted him as terribly as he wanted you. He really did want you to enjoy your morning and promised himself you’d enjoy every morning after this one too.

“I need you,” You’re whining into his mouth.

The very woman he has painfully longed after- the love of his life- was moaning into his mouth as he kissed them. The huffy and croaked out, “Need all of you,” should have been all he needed to hear from you. All he had ever wanted to hear from you. Nonetheless, Ao’nungs egotistical charm was a facade. In actuality he was terribly insecure. In fact he couldn’t truly wrap his head around how he had even gotten this far with you. He grounds himself in the feeling of your heavy breaths against his lips before he speaks,

“Tell me how bad you want tsaheylu. Tell me how bad you want me to be your mate,”

He doesn’t mean the growling undertone of his voice, or the side to side grind of his hips against your ass, but he loves the feeling of your cute little tail rolling over his cock at the motion and he can’t control how good he feels. Your wide eyes would be enough consent, the adoration in your topaz iris unmistakable.

“Nga yawne lu oer,”

One of your hands reaches up to hook around his neck, letting your delicate hand wrap around the base of his own kuru. And in the same breath you just loved him in, you assure him-

“I see you, Ao’nung. I see the real you. I want you so bad,”

He would normally laugh at the weakened tug at his kuru, but all you want is for him to kiss you again. How could he laugh when his pretty girl is begging him so nicely? How can he not kiss you once more and run his big hand down your delicate kuru. Dance his fingers across the pretty, intricate and adorned goddess loc protecting it. Had he felt a bit meaner he would have twisted the little curls that escaped it’s end just to hear you squeal and whine.

He had more pressing matters. Something far more interesting for him to focus on. You had a bundle of nerves practically dying to be connected to him, flailing tendrils kissing the bottom of his abs. Desperately swiping across the water slicked skin of his stomach looking for his own nerves to curl and wrap into. You wanted to feel him. All of him and it drove him wild. By the time his fingers trail the nerves of your tswin you’re crying. Actual tears that clump your pretty long lashes together and redden the tip of your cute crinkled nose.

His throat hurts. Choking on his breath at your sparkling tears. He can’t help but use one strong arm to cradle you into his body, pulling your torso taught against his own and relishing in the feeling of your boobs squishing against his arm. He tries to sooth you, hushing you with a voice uncharacteristically gentle for the man you had spent the end of your childhood roughhousing and bantering with. 

“Shhh, tanhì,” his head is besides yours again, and you welcome the feeling of your cheeks rubbing together, and the gentle nuzzling of his face into the crook of your neck, “Nga yawne lu oer, why do you cry pretty baby?”

He feels you clench below your tail when he asks, and he feels bad for the bead of precum that squeezes on the dip of your spine again. Your soft quivering,

“‘s too much,” as you shake your head a bit, “feel’s too much,” your rounded red eyes peer up at him again. You’re blushing now, purple and pretty for him.

“Let me feel it with you then, ya?” Your noses are slotted against each other when he moves to speak against the crown of your head, ending his question with a kiss to your slightly furrowed forehead. He lets the arm bracing you against him slowly begin to tweak your ridged nipple between his fingers. Letting himself enjoy the feeling of it hardening between his thumb and pointer finger, “Please, Ao’- wanna feel you,”

There’s a chuckling undertone in his huff as you drop forward on your arms again, bracing your palms onto the watery ledge. Though he had wanted to pull you back up, the sight of you arching your back and grinding yourself back into him grants you reprieve from having to hold yourself up.

It was almost difficulty, shaking your hips against him as well as you could from your knelt position, yet the stones assault on your knees was barely an afterthought as you had finally arched yourself in such a way that Ao’nung’s balls had finally began to drag blissfully across your swollen clit.

He doesn’t think you’ve ever sounded so pretty. Practically purring under him and gasping as you grind yourself against him and he paws at your breast. He’s proven wrong when he watches you jolt at the feeling of the hair at the end of his kuru raise towards where he dropped yours against your back. You feel the teasing kisses of his own tendrils on the skin just before where your own danced wildly waiting for him, “One more time baby, tell me you want me. I need you t’be sure,”

Had you not been driven mad by the slow pace he had subjected you to you’d have felt bad for the obvious crack in his voice. You hated that he thought you didn’t love him, it’s what drove you to reach up and grab for the base of his own braid,

“Ao’nung if you don’t i’m going to lose my-“

You don’t finish your reprimand. You can’t. Not when you feel his tswin latch onto yours, pulling you tightly into him. Tsaheylu. You had ridden ikrans and ilus of course- but this was different. Like a rush below your skin that left you panting in his arms. You had never felt like this before. Never throbbed like this before. All you could do was squeal as a relentless wave of wetness practically leaked from your twitching cunt. In a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the sudden rush of fire across your body you raise you hand from the base of his own kuru to the mass of curls held up in a bun.

You didn’t mean to yank at the tie that kept them out of the way. In fact, you were shocked when his inky tresses fell forward, covering you in a curled veil of obsidian and forcing you to drown in the smell of salted ambergris of the sea and smoke that was permanently locked in the ringlets of Ao’nungs mane. It blocked you from perceiving anything that wasn’t him, not only could you feel him, you couldn’t see anything besides him. He had engulfed your senses the same way he had engulfed your mind.

“Oh f-uck,” Eywa save you, his throaty whine makes you drop your body weight against the arm that had originally only been ghosting across your breasts, rendering you into a blubbering pile of putty forced to listen to him practically moan into your ear that, “I had no idea you were feeling so good baby,”

You can hear the swish of his paddled tail as it escapes the confines of the spring that you’d blame the sweat accumulating on your body to. You can feel how absolutely delighted he was. Though you couldn’t physically see where your nerves became his you couldn’t shake the picture between your eyes. As though the pretty loop of your braids had been branded behind the eyelid of your third eye by your mate.

“Ma’ pretty mate wants me so badly,” his opposite hand meanly grips at the fat of your hip, pulling you up to him.

You felt like a rag doll, pulled up against him just so he could grind you up and down against his length. He can understand why you were crying now. You felt a lot of emotions for having such a small form, it’s probably why you had the attitude problems you did. The mixture of panic and uncontrolled longing that tickled the pit of your stomach was an addicting feeling to him however. He makes a cruel grab at the base of your tail caressing his thumb on the smooth, sensitive skin under your tail.

“You’re either gonna move your tail out of my way or I'm going to move it for you,”

He’s straightening his back a bit as he speaks, arm sliding to let you go slightly, though his grip on your tit stays firm. Almost too quickly your tail curls up to give him a view he’s been dying for since he’s stumbled upon you this morning.

You’re swollen and flushed and so wet. He wonders how long you’ve been this sticky. And you don’t even care that he’s practically drooling over the sight of your pretty tail curled up because that pretty useless head of yours is too busy swirling with silly little thoughts about how much you loved him. He was sure it was some evolutionary effect to get people to keep having kids to keep their species alive, but to Ao’nung nothing has ever felt real to him. Maybe love was a scam for everyone else, but for him? Eywa herself couldn’t offer him more than the moment in front of him.

“Prettiest thing I ever fucking seen,” His hand had to leave your azure tail to palm at himself. He had only just began to realize how badly he was throbbing for you, “Need you so bad too,”

You rub yourself against him, pushing one of your hands down on the rock to offer more pressure

“Ao’nung please, i’ll be okay you can-“

You’re cut off with your own shaken breath when you feel him rub the blunt end of himself against your sticky slit. 

“Nu-uh,” he’s hunched forward over you again, rubbing the head of his cock against your slit, “you can’t take it like this,”

It’s your turn to feel shared panic. Not that you focus on it, choosing to clutch to his arms as the speed of his steadily rubbing intrusions picks up. It feels good. Too good on your still stoned, too stimulated body. Too good considering you can feel how good he feels. Every time the tip of his cock slides over your swollen clit and catches another glob of slick that only makes it easier to speed his assault up you moan.

Your thighs clench against him, but it does little to deter him. Not at his size. Not when he’s obsessed with the fact that he’s so much bigger than you. There wasn’t a thing you could do to keep him from making you cum. It really was foolish for you to clench your thighs. It only served to create a new angle for him to rub against. The smile you can hear in his moans is almost as embarrassing as the sloshing sound of your cunt at the enjoyable pace he had set.

He really did want to finger you, he wanted to feel your pretty cunt clench down around his pointer and middle finger too terribly but he can’t avoid the painful throb of his cock any longer. He’d been ignoring the pulse of his lower stomach since he had first seen the heavenly image of you sitting nude in the water watching the pink and lilac sky kiss stars goodbye. He was glad you seemed to like the intrusion of him practically jerking himself into you. Coating his cock in the enticingly scented albumen of your slick. He could cum probably, if he wasn’t already buzzing with overstimulation.

The naive part of him is confused when he watches your hips roll away from him, thighs clenching. Maybe it means you want him away from you, but all he can feel is the part of you screaming in his brain to keep going. So his hips follow yours so he can continue the sloppy drag of his cock-head though your folds. He’s starstruck when he catches on your clit rather roughly and is gifted with the sight of your spazzaming leaking cunt.

He’s so occupied with the liquid leaving you’re pretty swollen hole that the hand holding your chest up drops down to your tail again, yanking your hips up. He drops his cock from his hands to continue his assault on you with his fingers to rub faster then he previously was. You scream and he’s never been happier. The sight of him holding you up by your tail (that now wraps up around his forearm) while you brace yourself up by your hands as he rubs an orgasm from you, extending it as far as he could.

He knows he made you feel good and it only adds to how good he feels. If he was a bit more shameless he’d have probably busted the second you started leaking onto his swollen tip. His patience was almost in vain as he watched you lay your head on your arms, sitting up on your knees more to arch your back for him.

“Ao’ wan’ you to feel good too,”

So considerate of him always. He can feel the throb of your pretty pussy from where he still holds your tail. He laughs a little, he can’t help it. It’s a little mean when he sends a softish spank to where your ass meets your thigh. It’s mostly just to see your pretty body jolt under him, and to hear your pretty whine but it’s also to give him a second to compose himself. He’s not trying to claim your pretty azure skin with his cum yet.

And you look at him with those pretty slitted eyes, plump lips curled into the softest snarl he’s ever seen on your bratty little face. He doesn’t mean to so unceremoniously hunch down to catch your face in his palm and kiss you. He’s just so excited that he finally has what he wants.

“I can put it in ya?” He mumbles against your lips, 

“Gonna let me make you feel good?” He questions again, and it’s his turn for a twitch to shoot up his cock to the soft patch of fat below his abs at your pretty moan.

“Ao’ you can! You y-you don’t have to ask,”

He ignores the amusement over how snappy your sentence started, yet ended in hiccupy adoration filled stumbles. Once again he’s lining himself up against your slit, and with the added force you can finally feel the girth of him. You’re thankful he hasn’t let you see him fully yet, worried the sight might have unsettled you more than the feeling.

He has to refrain himself from shooting forward, shoving you full in one snap of his hips. Has to stand up and slide his weighty dick between your cheeks to lay it on your back just to remind himself how deep he’d be in you. Sliding against you for a few lazy thrusts just to admire the view. He's dumbfounded at how intrusive his cock would be in comparison to whatever Omatikaya loser Eywa had intended for you to be mated with before he had set his eyes on you. One hand moves to spread your cheek one more time, the other returning to its place on his cock to help guide him between your folds. He starts groaning as he pushes the tip in.

Warm. Fuck you’re warmer then the suns rays on his back. Warmer than the heat his downed hair traps around him. And you match his moan. A hypnotizing harmonization that’s only paused when he feels a foreign stinging. A warm burn where he had never felt pain before, and though it was nothing more than an inconvenience he couldn’t stand the idea of his girl in any pain. You didn’t even get a chance to whine at the stretch before two if his large fingers are clamoring over your bud, trying his best to roll tight figure eights to lessen the sting for you.

Ao’nung can’t help but be confused. He can feel you slicking up his cock as he pushes in, the sheer wetness welcoming him in with almost ease. The only resistance the clenching muscle could offer against his intrusion was the sheer tightness of it.

Why is one hand reaching up to dig your pretty nails into his thigh, to scratch and push at him even though you’re feeling so good? Do you forget he can feel you? Can he blame it on you feeling too good? He’s not even half way into you and yet your hips keep stuttering away from him. He’s even paused his movement to appreciate your little huffs over being split open on him,

“You are alright,” you feel one his hands wrap around your waist, guiding you to sit up on your knees all the way out of the water, forcing his cock to slide out slightly. He makes sure to guide your face up towards you, forcing your eyes to lock on his. 

His big hand then sides under your thigh and pulls your one leg up. It’s an embarrassing display, Ao’nung holding one of your legs up against your chest so he could force the remnants of his aching cock into your hole.

“Ya yer pussy knows it’s mine. Good girl sucking me right in,”

Both of your round exultant eyes are locked onto each other as he bottoms out, his words making you clench down. You marvel at the flush of his face and the hiss that falls past his teeth after the wet plap of his balls hit your ass. You swear you can feel him against your fruit filled stomach. As though he had truly impaled you on something. There was no way he could have prepared you for such a stretch. It was nothing like any of the self imposed violations against your cunt by your own fingers- what Ao’nung was doing to you was entirely different. This was beyond any girlish fantasy that had ever crossed your mind about the man.

"I need a second please-wait,” you sound so desperate for someone who knows that he’d never think of pushing you past your limit- not this time, not like this. Not when you’ve been so kind as to let him mate with you. He doesn’t answer you, kissing up and down your neck and shoulders. Allowing himself to bite and suck as he rolls your clit between his fingers,

“Deep breath baby, I already taught you how to breathe. Don’t make me do it again,”

There’s a smile against your throat as you feel him suck particularly hard, it makes you smile too. You don’t know why you listen to him, taking in a deep breath and craning your neck to lay against his chest.

His ego has skyrocketed. Feeling how much you liked being crammed down on his dick while he played with your pretty clit, legs spread wide for him. He hasn't even really gotten started and you feel twitchy like before you came. He can admit you’re clouding his brain quicker then he intended. He hadn’t felt so brain dead since his very first rut (which he had spent the entirety of silently fixated on you). He doesn’t really mean to shift his hips, doesn’t mean to push his fat cock deeper into your sweet little hole-

"Ah fuck, too big- it's too big!"

The sight of your furrowed eyes looking up at him makes his chest tighten and his dick a little harder. You didn’t mean it- even if he could feel the aftershock of the burn that dances across your nervous system into his. He knows you don’t mean it cause you’re grinding your pretty cunt against him. Chasing the high his fingers against your clit are providing. 

“Stop ya whining,” he knows he’s been nice enough to you. Which is why he pinches down on your swollen clit ever so gently, twisting softly between the pads of his fingers ruining how close to a second release you were. It feels good when it makes you jump and impale yourself deeper against his cock, "Maybe you're just really fucking tiny,"

And with his words he begins the slow roll of his hips forward. After the few experimental rolls of his hips in conjunction with his comforting mumbles that you would be fine, Ao’nung feels that he can finally pull almost all the way out of you. You hate the feeling of being empty so suddenly, and are almost too loud when he begins to deliver shallow thrust into you. The water of the spring is splashing below you, and the sound of the spring mixed with the violent wet slapping of your skin together would alert anyone who got too close to the springs as to the torture Ao’nung was putting you though.

As if he is reading your mind (he probably is in one way or another) his mean hand grips the fat of your thigh tighter, and forces the leg higher in effort to open you more- so far even that you feel your lips part completely- as he uses the fat of your thigh as reigns to deliver deeper thrust.

“Ya yer right, anyone could walk out here with your legs wide fuckin open for me, huh?” he starts, and you wrap your tail around his torso to keep yourself stabilized against his thrusts into you, “Toruk Maktos daughter getting fucked stupid in public,”

He’s biting you again, just to hear that pretty little squeal and feel your pussy clamp down on him. He knows he should wait just a little longer before revving up the brutality of his pace- but the sight of you drove him to madness. And feeling your fingers reaching up to knot into his hair and yank only spurs him on more.

Feeling you cum felt better the second time then the first time. Is dizzying how quickly this one crashes over you. He’s a little disappointed that there’s a lack of liquid to splash against his muscular thighs this time, but promised himself your third would be messy after seeing the creamy ring you left around his cock. A welcome addition of more lubricate so he could comfortably drag against your spongy wall. It mind numbing how good it felt to fuck you though it- he was sure you were tearing up his thighs with your pretty up kept nails but he couldn’t be bothered with the white hot burn when he feels the lingering throb of your orgasm.

“Wrap your arms around my neck, baby,” he pleads with his lips against you, thrusting at an almost animalistic pace. 

The up kick in the power of his thrust distracts you. You don’t move quick enough for him as he growls, smacking at the bundle of nerves between your legs. It’s all it takes for you to jolt and snap your arms above you and wrap them around his neck.

It knocks the wind out of your smoke assaulted lungs when his other arm loops around your other thigh. Heaving you out of the water into his arms. You see the world from an uncomfortably high angle as he stands straighter. Gasping as you grasp the inky tendrils of his hair in a painful tug.

“Oh fuck,”

It’s sinful, the way he’s slamming you up and down on him. Bouncing you in the air like a toy. Small and weightless in his hands as he used you to cum. There was an ache in your hips at the position, the sea breeze against your exposed cunt only edged you on more though. You were shaking in his hands, and he’s never seen you so delicate and vulnerable for him- he’d be sure to make fun of how quickly his dick turned your sour bratty mood into nothing but a brain dead euphoric smile.

“All you fucking needed all these years, huh?” he asks you, “Woulda saved me so much grief if I had just mated with you then, huh?”

He isn’t expecting an answer, just mindlessly babbling to himself as he slides against the spongey spot of your cunt. It’s amazing to him how you jerk in his arms, stretching yourself backwards to clutch onto his neck better, straining your head sideways to pull at his hair and yank him into another sloppy kiss. Your wet lips are chilled by his breath as he pulls away,

“Touch your pussy for me baby, I wan’na cum so bad,”

As if he needs to feel your orgasm rip across his nervous system to make him cum. How could you deny the pretty aqua eyes pleading with you. It doesn’t feel as good when you do it considering you had grown so used to his much larger fingers padding against you but it still felt good. Too good to be so dirty. Too good to be mated in the early hours of the morning in a public space. His hips jerk up to match the painful drop of your ragdolled body against him and it makes you see stars. Stars that were successful in blinding him as well.

“Ya that’s it baby, don’t stop-“

It hurts to clench down on him. The painful snap behind your belly button could only be met with you dead weighing your body down deeper onto his cock and the fluttering push of your plush cunt.

He could have topped over with the speed he used to look down over your shoulder. He didn’t want to miss the sight of your pussy cumming for him. Not when you show him how much his pretty pussy can gush for him. He thought the small splash of liquid from your first orgasm was squirting- but at the sight of the liquid that sprays against the rocks ahead of you his thrusts grow sloppy. He doesn’t know how he was so lucky to have your juices splash up into him but he’s thankful for it- never wants the smell of you to leave his face.

How can he not want to cum at the feeling of your body completely giving into him. Laying limp in his big arms while he fucked up into you. There was no clenching resistance of your fluttering hole or pulling yourself up off of his body. Only his pretty girl in his arms getting filled the way no other man could ever fill her.

He hates how bad it hurts to slide out of you when he feels himself starting to cum. You offer no support in keeping his composure as your fingers slide down from where they rested on your cunt and gently caress the tips of your fingers against his tightening ballsack.

“You’re gonna make me cum,”

He knows he’ll never live down the breathy gasp of his words or moaning the way he does for you. He prays no one is within earshot of the wanton moans that leave his throat but he can’t help himself. You’re so wet and warm and tight. He swore there wasn’t a pussy in all of Pandora that would milk him half as well.

And Eywa, when he finally finds the strength to give in and pull out and your small palm wraps around the head of his cock, twisting and jerking him until an embarrassingly fat load shoots from him- he can't stop the loud growl that his moans turn into.

He would accredit the buckle of his knees to the fact that you were failing at aiming his cum towards your belly due to the erratic jerking of your hand against the tip of his cock, sending his cum not only over your pretty body, but shooting haphazardly onto the floor and most likely into the water. But the real reason for his weak legs was the sweet and huffed way you were babbling that you would love him forever.

[robinofgothamcity]

“I just killed a man, she’s my alibi.”

Character: Jonathan Crane / DC

Authors Note: guy, I’m such a slut for Jonathan, as all of you can tell lmfao. Anyway, here’s a blurb for him bc i clearly cannot stop writing for him! Again, not checked for spelling or grammar errors. Also, i think my crush on cillian also contributes to this obsession i have with Jonathan

Being a vigilante had to be one of the hardest parts of your life. Every time a crime happened in Gotham, you were one of the first to be called to be questioned. You really had no idea why Batman or his group of annoying superheroes were always so interest in you being at the center of any crime. You wondered if maybe there was an underlying reason but every time you questioned them, they gave you a flat answer.

Tonight’s crime had been done by two face and gang of gremlins and although you thought that the crime was funny, you immediately knew that Batman was going to hunt you down for it.

“Did Harvey really need to do this tonight?” You asked Jonathan and Edward as you took another swig of your wine, “I was actually enjoying this outing but I can assure you Batman is going to question me as soon as I walk out of here”. Edward couldn’t help but chuckle as he could tell that you were no longer in the mood to drink. “Have you ever thought that it could be because Batman or his group of idiots want you on their side? I mean, you are one of the few vigilantes that can control the supernatural.”

You thought for a moment, wondering if Edward had a point.

“As if, she’s not stupid enough to join them,” Jonathan replied. You gave him a look, “I mean, you’re right but can I be the one to say that?” You said as you looked back to Edward, “I really don’t see why they’d need me. They have enough magic to last them a lifetime so I doubt I’d be useful. Plus, who else would be here to be a pain in your asses if I ran off with the Justice League?”

Not a second after the three of you walked out of the bar you noticed Batman sitting on top of your motorcycle with a smirk sitting on his face.

“Good evening to you Batman, came to bother me?” You asked as you perched yourself onto the bike to look up at the caped crusader. Jonathan felt his eye twitch in annoyance as he could tell that stupid charming personality that Batman had very much worked on you without any real effort, “Is it bothering if I came to question you? There was an attempted robbery Gotham Bank and you were very close to the scene.”

You couldn’t help but laugh sarcastically.

“It is bothering me considering I’ve been with these idiots all night, you can check the camera footage if you don’t believe me,” you smugly as you pointed back to Jonathan and Edward. They gave you a look of annoyance as Jonathan stepped up next to you, “She was nowhere near that moron tonight so you can go ahead and leave us alone,” Jonathan stated as he put his hand on your shoulder.

You stared at him wondering where this genuine look of anger came from. Jonathan didn’t get angry very easily but whenever he did, it was never for something this small. It took a lot of make him upset and with the small interaction with the bat, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something that you were missing to make him that angry.

“Sorry bat, I really was with them. If you want, you can check with Harvey and ask him about his whereabouts,” you replied not really in the mood to be dealing with the same game he always played when questioning you. Batman clicked his tongue as he looked to Jonathan, “would you like to state something? Or you Edward?” Edward put his hands up in defense as Jonathan pushed you farther back to look at Batman,” the girl already told you she was not near Dent or his goons so get to work bat.”

You and Edward started laughing as you watched Jonathan continue to stare him down.

“Come on you big scary man, you don’t need to end up in Arkham tonight,” you whispered to Jonathan as you tapped your fingers on his shoulder. He sighed realizing you were right and walked away from the hero as you gave Edward your keys as a silent indication to take it back to your place.

There wasn’t many times where Jonathan was mad at you but you realized that your interaction with Batman was the primary reason to Jonathan’s anger. You and Jonathan were very close when it came to having partners in the underworld of Gotham but this was the first time that you could see Jonathan’s anger practically boiling over.

“Okay, now that they’re both gone, want to explain why you were about to fight the strongest hero in Gotham?” You asked as you put your hands in your shorts, expecting an answer. He rolled his eyes not wanting to give you a reason but he knew you’d keep pestering him about it if he didn’t give you one, “Is there something going on with you and that moron?” He asked very straight forwardly.

“Me and Batman? First of all, absolutely not. Jonathan, you’re smart of enough to realize that on your own so what would give you that impression?” You asked. He gave you a dry laugh as you pushed you up against a random building, his thumb and index finger pinching your face, “It doesn’t take an idiot to realize that Batman wanted more than that interaction from you and you’re smart enough to realize that sweetheart.”

This time, it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Even if he wanted something more, I’m not going to play justice league today or ever and you know that Jonathan,” you replied as you grabbed the hand that was holding your face and stroked it gently, “Jonathan, if I really wanted to make you jealous, I’d do it with someone more worth my time,” you added on.

Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh as he stared at you with this evil glint in his eyes, “well, I’m glad you know your worth,” he replied as you laid a hardening kiss on his lip, “well, I’m slightly disappointed that you doubted me,” you pouted dramatically.

“Sweetheart, you know that game does not work on me so let’s just forget this little interaction happened and we can go back to my place and finish that last bottle of wine that you didn’t get too last week.”

“Sounds like a great idea Dr.Crane,” you replied as you gave him a wink.

[jekacatrina]

I finished the next chapter of Nobody Else! Can you believe after this one, we only have 3 chapters left??? I can't believe we're so close to the end. I'm going to be able to say I wrote a whole Pacific Rim AU for Bakudeku!

I'm doing some editing before handing it out to my beta Bella, but here’s a sneak peek:

“I can handle all the talk,” Izuku offered.

Kacchan gave him a look so incredulous, as if Izuku had offered to flash the press. “The only person worse than me at this shit, is you. So not exactly as reassuring as you might think, Deku,” he gave Monoma and Shinsou a look. “Okay, maybe the purple morons will be worse.”

“We’ll do great,” Monoma said, with a confidence Izuku didn’t believe. Not when he was holding Shinsou’s hand tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“I’ve never heard you say something nice,” Kirishima said.

“I say nice things to Hitoshi all the time.”

“Let me rephrase it for you, man,” Kaminari lifted a hand. “I’ve never heard you say nice things to anyone you don’t want to see naked."

“That’s because I don’t like you," Monoma said. “Besides, I don’t need to say nice things to get him naked.”

“If you want to keep it like that, you’re going to stop talking, Neito,” Shinsou warned.

“I’m sorry to interrupt such a riveting conversation,” said Aizawa-san, joining them. Everyone blushed, but Shinsou went white. In a moment like this, Izuku was glad to be an orphan.

I don't think there's one scene I don’t love this chapter! But the end? Man, the end is something I had been saving since before I started the story and I'm so proud of it... You'll see.

[muzansslxt]

Maniac

Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader

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Warnings: Dubcon, gun play, age gap, abuse, black mail,kidnapping, swearing, degradation and manipulation. Read at your own risk🫠

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Toji was a lot of things, a gambler, a play boy, and an assassin.

But he wasn’t soft, he didn’t have a heart underneath his muscular chest. He didn’t love, and he certainly didn’t care about the fact you were unconscious laying in his back seat.

His dark brooding eyes flicked to the rear view mirror, silently drinking in your figure.

You were young, much younger than him but certainly old enough to be legal.

Shaking his head, he continued to drive to his apartment, he wasn’t sure what to do with you just yet.

You weren’t worth anything dead, he was instructed by his superiors to simply obtain you and use any methods necessary to get you to spill the information about Jujutsu high.

He pulled into a shabby underground parking lot and scanned the area to make sure nobody was out and about before pulling you from the car and slung you over his broad shoulder easily.

You were so light, so small and fragile.

An evil smirk began to form on his handsome face, you would be very easy to break.

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It took you some time, but you finally awoke.

Your head was pounding with an on coming head ache and your mouth felt like cotton.

Looking around, you were quick to realize you were in someone else’s home. The arm chair you were bound to was littered in cigarette burns and what looked like blood.

“You’re awake.” Came a deep voice behind the chair.

The ropes dug into the flesh of your wrists and ankles as you tried to turn, to look at the man.

Toji watched with an amused expression before leaning over the back of the chair and lazily ran a hand gun along your jawline.

“You’re y/n. I’ve heard all about you~ They call you the sorcerers slut you know~” he teased.

You felt your face heat up.

“That’s not true.” You snapped.

Toji raised a brow, he was expecting someone whiny, someone who would cry and break down.

You were different.

Humming, Toji moved so he was in front of you, pulling up a foot stool, he sat down and just smiled arrogantly.

“Why don’t you tell me what you know about that Gojo moron.” He said while moving the gun away from your face and let it hang in his hand.

You glared back at him.

“I know nothing about any of the jujutsu sorcerers, I’m only there to escort the students home safely.”

Toji snorted, his fingers tightening around the gun handle.

“Bullshit.” He chuckled before reaching into his pocket for his phone the photograph he was supplied with for this interrogation.

“I know all about who you spread your legs for~”

Toji pulled his phone out of his back pocket, eyes glued to the screen for a moment before flipping it around for you to see.

You felt your stomach drop.

It was a picture of you, sat on Gojos cock with your head tossed back.

“How did you- who-“ you stuttered as your face reddened.

Toji chuckled at your crimsoned cheeks, he had you right where he needed.

“Not so tough now are you little girl~”

You glare at him with hatred.

“Don’t give me that look~” he cooed before standing up swiftly, “I think you enjoy fucking older men, maybe you can bounce on my cock like you did for Gojo~”

“You pervert! You- You fucking pervert! Go fuck yourself!” You snarled while looking up at him.

His eyes flashed angrily before leaning down and suddenly ripped your shirt off, although you tried to squirm away from his hands, it was useless.

In a split second he already had you naked.

“You have a foul mouth for such a pretty girl~” he hummed while his eyes drank your exposed body in.

You could feel your stomach roll and the burn of shame made your eyes water, yet your body was acting differently, much to your dismay.

Toji purred while looking at your shaved pussy, glistening with your own arousal.

“St-stop staring, god damn it.” You say in a desperate voice, the embarrassment starting to get to you.

“Fine. I’ll take a picture instead, lasts longer right?” He said cooly as he brought his phone out and snapped a few close ups of your soaked cunt.

“No! No! De-“ you were cut off as the barrel of his hand gun was shoved into your mouth.

You could taste the cold metallic metal on your tongue, and whined.

“I’m tired of hearing you complain.” He growled before looking down again between your legs, with how you had been tied to the chair, he could see your spread open pussy.

Smirking Toji pulled the gun from your mouth slowly before letting it trail down your body slowly, the cold metal was almost a relief on your hot skin, but your eyes never left the finger Toji had on the trigger.

You began to cry once the gun crossed your trembling stomach to your twitching clit.

The inescapable thought that at any moment this man could kill you, stayed burned in the back of your mind.

And yet you couldn’t help but gasp through your tears and watched in horror as he slowly rubbed your aching clit in circles with the hand gun.

“You’re pretty wet doll~ Think you can take it?~”

You were about to scream and beg for him not to, but as soon as your mouth opened, Toji slapped a large hand over it as he began to nudge the gun inside of you.

Toji pushed the gun slightly until it started to slide inside your waiting hole, the barrel was burning through the tight rings of your cunt.

A strangled cry left your lips only to be muffled by Tojis palm, your hip’s jerked and writhed, trying to pull away from the crude object inside you.

“Oh relax~ You’re soaking wet right now princess~ I can’t believe you’re gunna cum from a fucking gun.” He laughed, pumping the weapon faster and grinning at the obscene noises it was making.

You sobbed hysterically but arched your back as the tip of the gun started to press and rub against that precious sweet spot, your pussy clamped around the barrel tighter and it was moans leaving your mouth now.

Toji couldn’t believe how easy it was to unwind you.

A cream ring began to form around the end of the barrel, your clit puffy with arousal and the constant clench of your pussy signalled you were undoubtedly close to cumming.

Removing his hand from your lips, Toji plunged the gun one last time against your g spot, your walls were on fire, the knot in your stomach snapped.

“Hah! N-no- Ah!~” Your voice sounded strangled as you whimpered and gasped, your pussy gushed around the gun, costing it in your essence.

“What do you think will happen if this goes public?~” Toji suddenly purred while slowly pulling the gun out and watched your cunt clench and drip in response.

You were so frightened and overwhelmed with pleasure, you didn’t even notice the camera placed on the couch recording.

“Before you start those crocodile tears, I’ll make a deal with you doll face~ Tell me all about Satoru and I’ll delete the video, you can watch me do it too~” he cooed while rubbing your cheek as tears trailed down them silently.

Telling Toji what he wanted would surely get you killed, most likely by Gojo himself, or you could face the humiliation of having your pussy filmed and stuffed with a gun, for everyone to see.

The choice was yours to make…

[summerwritesfics]

🗺️I Swear When I Grow Up I Won’t Just Buy You A Rose

Pairing: Raiden/Kuai Liang Length: 1772 Words Rating: Teen Warnings: Modern AU, Flower Shop AU, Florist!Kuai Liang, First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Gift Giving, Fluff AU-Gust 2024 Day 17: Flower Shop

AU-Gust 2024 Masterlist

Notes: Okay gonna be real with you, I have no idea about the pricing of flowers especially the pricing of flowers in dollars, and my attempted research on the topic kept coming up with wedding prices. So, I have no idea if what I wrote here is a reasonable price or flowers, or if it’s too little. If someone would like to correct me, feel free, but I swear I tried 😭 Title is from The Gambler by Fun.

“I never know what to buy people for their Birthdays,” Kung Lao complained, placing his arms behind his head as they walked down the street.

Raiden chuckled and said “it’s not that hard, is it? You always manage to get me stuff I like.”

“That’s different, I’ve known you forever. I could give you a somewhat interesting looking rock and you’d be over the moon with it.” Well, he supposed Kung Lao had a point there. For him it was always the thought that counted in terms of gifts. “But we’ve only known Kitana and Mileena for a couple of months. What the heck do I get?”

“You could go halves with me on some flowers,” Raiden offered, thinking it was the easiest option. Lao was right, they hadn’t known the sisters that long, but he had talked with them enough to realise they both like flowers.

“No offence, but I don’t want to be that basic.”

“Are you calling me basic?” Raiden gasped in mock offence.

“I mean I’m not calling you complex,” Lao replied with a cheeky smirk. Raiden rolled his eyes.

“Well, have fun figuring out what non-basic gift you’re going to buy them,” Raiden claimed as they came to the flower shop he’d had in mind. Lin Kuei Florals was a relatively new shop, a small family run business from what he could tell. He was all about supporting small businesses rather than corporate conglomerates. “I’m gonna go buy my flowers now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna go see if I can find something in that clothes shop over there.” Lao pointed in the direction he was going.

Raiden just shook his head as he went to enter the flower shop. As he stepped in he was immediately met with the floral smell, making him glad he didn’t have any allergies. It was a small shop, but absolutely packed to the brim with plants of all kinds. It wasn’t just bouquets either, there were some plants in pots, including succulents and cacti. There were some cute hanging baskets, and even a rack of seeds.

“Welcome to Lin Kuei Florals, how may I help you?” A voice called to him from the counter, and when Raiden looked up, he actually felt himself go a little hot.

The man behind the counter was a bit shorter than Raiden, wearing his long hair up in a bun. He had a scar over the one side of his face, and two flowers, one yellow, one blue, tucked into his ear. Usually, Raiden wasn’t one to be distracted by someone’s looks, but something about this man made him feel dizzy.

“Are you alright sir?” The man asked, sounding genuinely concerned. Raiden’s eyes flicked to a little name tag on the man’s apron that read “Kuai Liang”.

“Ah. Yes. Sorry,” he said in a hurried tone as Kuai Liang came from behind the counter to approach him.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” Kuai Liang asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Uh. Flowers.” Raiden wanted to just slap his face with his hand because of course he wanted flowers, that’s why he was in a flower shop. Kuai Liang probably thought he was stupid or something.

“Well, you’re definitely in the right place for that,” Kuai Liang giggled, and it just made him even cuter to Raiden. “Any particular flowers you’re looking for?”

“Pretty ones?” Oh. Good. If Kuai Liang didn’t already think he was a moron he definitely did now. “I’m so sorry. I’m not normally this dumb, I just have no idea what I’m actually looking for.”

Smooth. Maybe Raiden had saved himself there.

Maybe.

“I’m guessing you’re buying them as a gift for someone?” Kuai Liang enquired, reaching for a notepad in his pocket and a tiny pencil.

“Yeah, I’ve got these two friends, they’re twins so their birthday is coming up.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I know they both really like flowers so I thought a bouquet might do it.”

“Any ideas what kind of flowers they like?” Kuai Liang scribbled something down on his notepad.

“That’s the thing, I think it’s like… All flowers.” He tried to think of something that might help Kuai Liang out. “Ah, one sister really likes the colour blue, while the other loves pink.”

“Were you hoping for separate bouquets for them?” He continued to ask, writing more things down.

“Yes I think that’d be for the best.” He was sure, being twins, they got people treating them like they were the same person all the time. And even in the few short months he’d known them, he’d definitely come to appreciate that for all their similarities, they were still quite different people deep down. “So maybe one with mostly blue flowers and the other mostly pink?”

“Alright, give me a minute.”

And like that, Kuai Liang was darting around the shop, picking up various items. Raiden watched in silence as he grabbed ribbons, pruners, and paper. Then he started going between flowers. He grabbed some deep blue ones, paired with some lighter blue and some that were bordering purple. A couple of smaller white flowers too. He put them on the table together, before returning to look around again. This time he was gathering flowers of various pinks, some deep magenta and some more dusky baby pink. He also grabbed a couple of yellow flowers.

“What do you think? Before I commit to putting them together?” Kuai Liang asked, taking a step back to really observe them. Raiden wandered to join his side, looking over. He really didn’t know much about flowers, or which ones look good together, but even he could admire these flowers all complimented each other.

“They look amazing,” Raiden whispered. His personal favourite of the flowers was actually the smaller white ones, there was something delicate and sweet about them. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Ah, well, I’ve done some casual courses for flower arranging.” Kuai began to wrap the blue bouquet up, in a light pink paper Raiden now noticed. “But I’ve loved plants since I was a child, and my Mother brought me a pack of wildflower seeds to grow.”

“So, is this your shop?” He asked, because from what he knew this was a family owned business.

“Technically it’s my elder brother’s I suppose, but he did buy it for me, so.” Kuai shrugged, wrapping a sparkly blue ribbon around the bouquet and tying it in a bow. “My younger brother helps me out sometimes, but he isn’t quite as interested in plants as I am.”

“Huh.” His brother must be pretty loaded to just casually buy him a shop. Still he didn’t voice that, instead saying “you definitely seem to know what you’re doing.” He frowned, remembering something he’d read about once. “Is that stuff about flowers having meanings true or is that just a myth?”

Kuai Liang laughed as he moved onto the pink bouquet, wrapping that one in a light blue paper.

“There are some agreed upon meanings, but they’re not nearly as important as fiction would make you believe,” he said while smiling ear to ear. “That said if you ever need a bouquet to be extremely passive aggressive towards someone I can definitely help you with that.”

Raiden spluttered and covered his mouth with his hand. As he stood trying not to laugh, Kuai Liang finished up the second bouquet, scooping them both up and handing them to Raiden. They were beautiful and he was certain Kitana and Mileena would love them.

“Thank you so much,” he replied, following Kuai Liang over to the counter. “You’re amazing.” He realised what came out of his mouth and his face dropped, Kuai Liang was looking at him with an amused smile on his face. “They- they’re amazing. I mean. Sorry. Sorry.”

What is wrong with me today?

“Well, that comes to $60 all together,” Kuai Liang stated without missing a beat. Raiden reached into his pocket, passing Kuai the money he required. He opened the cash register, placing the money in and waiting for a receipt to print. Once it had, Raiden noticed he picked up a pen from the desk and wrote something on it. He didn’t think too much of it, probably just had to tick some boxes or something. He took the receipt as Kuai Liang passed it to him and said “thank you and I hope your friends like them.”

“I’m sure they will.” He gave a little bow of respect. “Thank you again.”

He might have rushed a little too quickly to the door so as not to make even more of a fool of himself. He gave a massive sigh as he went back out into the fresh air. From across the street, he saw Kung Lao.

“Hey- wow.” Kung Lao stood mouth agape at him. “Okay, going to be honest, those are way nicer than I was expecting.” He put his hand under his chin, and smirked. “How much did those cost you?”

“$60,” Raiden explained and Kung Lao blinked.

“Wait? Seriously? Only 60? When I looked it up online it was all saying in the 100’s?” Kung Lao questioned and Raiden snorted.

“You probably got results for wedding bouquets, they always put up the price for weddings,” he laughed, but it seemed Kung Lao wasn’t having it.

“Let me see the receipt.” Lao held out his hand to demand it. Raiden rolled his eyes and placed it into his hand.

Lao looked at it, eyes scanning before he reached the bottom and his eyebrow raised.

“Uh. Raiden? Have you actually looked at this?”

Raiden was confused, taking the receipt back and scanning it himself. Down at the bottom, in handwriting, was a series of numbers, sighed “call me ;) KL xx”.

“Oh.” He chuckled nervously, and there was the heat again, only now he could feel it down his neck and chest as well. His eyes were wide as he looked at Kung Lao. “Oh.”

“Seems like you managed to pick up more than flowers, huh?” Kung Lao gave him a very pronounced overdramatic wink and Raiden groaned.

“Shut up,” he muttered as he began to walk off, but he carefully put the receipt in his pocket so he didn’t lose it.

“I get to be your best man right?” Lao continued and Raiden groaned.

“Shut uppppp,” he whined, trying to drown out Lao’s teasing. Despite that though, he did find himself smiling. Maybe his awkwardness had come off as charming or otherwise endearing. It didn’t matter, all he knew was he was definitely giving that phone number a call later.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

FEBUWHUMP | NOT ALLOWED TO DIE | WC: 695

a/n: speculative ficlet on the end of bnha. manga spoilers.

//

His whole body ached. This was nothing new to Tomura, who had been plagued with an awareness of bodily discomfort since he was conscious enough to register it, but unlike before, there was no way he could relieve himself of the pain.

He could not lift a limb; he could barely turn his head.

Beside him on the torn-up battlefield, Midoriya wheezed and wept dry, rasping sobs. He looked even more of a mess than Tomura, and the insides of Tomura were still churning with the stupid, indigestible truth that deep down, he was a pitiful child wanting to be saved. The ghosts had been ruthless in their excavation.

“Shut up,” Tomura managed, and his lips curled weakly to bare his teeth. “Just--would you shut the hell up and kill me already?”

Midoriya twitched. Unlike Tomura, Midoriya was laid-out flat on his back, face turned to the sky and all four limbs stretched out like a butterfly pinned to a corkboard. The kid didn’t even bother twisting his neck. He just side-eyed Tomura with unwarranted incredulity.

“A hero wouldn’t hesitate. Not after all I’ve done.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do,” Midoriya said, unsteadily, “for the past hour?”

“You’re trying to be the good guy. ‘There’s always someone to save.’ Ugh.”

The doctor had subjected him to intense electric shocks, conditioning his body before the transfer of All for One, and the Quirk still hadn’t integrated peacefully. Star and Stripes tried to smother him in the ocean and obliterate him altogether. In neither of these cases did Tomura cry.

Tears were beading up now, threatening to spill over and soak the ground. Tomura crooked his fingers against the dirt, seeking Decay in the fiery ruins of his veins, and tasting blood when all he turned up was more pain.

“I can’t do this,” he gasped. “I can’t look at--at all their stupid faces--and listen to them tell me that I was wrong--”

Unbelievably, Midoriya wrenched himself to the side and reached over to grab a fistful of Tomura’s hair. He said, “You don’t get to die.” He sounded like a hero; he sounded like a maniac who would see Tomura thrown into some asylum for ‘recovery’ when all it would really be was an indefinite term of drugged incarceration. “One for All didn’t go away so you could die. I told them I’d save you, and I will.”

“You and what Quirk?! You think you count for anything now? Even All Might’s word doesn’t mean shit!”

“You’re Quirkless too, now!” Midoriya fired back.

Tomura clenched his jaw. Maybe if he ate enough dirt, he’d throw up, choke on his own vomit, and die before any medical assistance reached them. Like being unable to use a Quirk mattered to the terrified, paranoid judicial system. He’d dusted both of Overhaul’s arms up to the elbows and they booked him in Tartarus anyway.

“I won’t let you disappear,” the boy swore.

“Moron,” Tomura spat. “I’m telling you over and over again, it doesn’t matter what the hell you want. You’re gonna stand against the heroes when they drag me to prison? You’re gonna ask them to go easy on me with the sentencing? It’d be more merciful to just kill me!”

Midoriya yanked on Tomura’s hair, and Tomura wailed a long, despairing cry into the dirt. Would anyone else help him? Dabi--useless. Toga--useless. Spinner--gone. Mr. Compress--imprisoned. All Tomura had left was Midoriya, and he hated Midoriya, but not enough to suppress Tenko’s needy want for a friend. 

“If they take you, I’ll find you. I’ll ask All Might to find a safehouse in the country. I’ll make sure you have dogs to take care of.” Midoriya released Tomura and rolled himself completely to his stomach. His eyes were red-rimmed but dry. Exhaustion weighed on him as heavily as the hurt did on Tomura. “Don’t you want to live?”

This was the final straw, amidst the many final straws that had edged their fight further and further in Midoriya’s favor. Tomura had no desire to voice Tenko’s want, so he scrunched his wet eyes shut and screamed into the shattered earth.

Next to him, Midoriya waited.

[doodlebugreturns]

The Tickle Monster

Media: Lilo & Stitch: The Series

For @fluffy-lovely-clouds

It was a beautiful morning on the island of Kauai. Jumba was in the kitchen working on his newest invention. With all his attention devoted to it, he didn’t notice Pleakley walking up to the doorway. “Jumba!” “Ow!” He exclaimed, hitting his head on a low-hanging part of his invention from being startled. “What?” “How do I look?” Pleakley asked. He was dressed as Marilyn Monroe. He was wearing a blonde, curly wig, crystal earrings, a white dress, sassy heels, and a ridiculous amount of makeup. “Like a moron.” Jumba went back to working on his invention. Pleakley sultrily walked towards his roommate, with his hands on his swaying hips. “I’ve been researching humankind’s history. Did you know that the group known as ‘females’ have been treated as property for the majority of the species’ existence? Why, this didn’t change until about only one century ago! It’s messed up, but so fascinating…” “Interesting.” Jumba remarked. “But I don’t care.” “So, what are you making?” Pleakley asked. “It is evil food dispenser. Humans are to be attracted to it by the bright colors and delicious smell. But food being offered is highly processed, genetically modified mystery meat that causes health problems to whoever consumes it. And the best part…” Jumba chuckled, “it irritates human digestive system and makes it produce foul odor!” The evil genius couldn’t help but laugh at his mischievous idea. “So… a hot dog cart?” “What?” “Yeah.” Pleakley said. “Humans have already invented those.” “Bah!” Jumba waved his hand dismissively. “I may not know all that much about humans, but I know they do not eat dogs.” “They do in other parts of the planet.” Pleakley then noticed an alluring red button. “Hey, what does this button do?” “Wait wait wait wait-“ Before waiting for an answer, Pleakley pressed the button, and the machine shot thirty hot dogs into Jumba’s mouth. “Sorry…” He spit the tasty projectiles onto the floor. The two of them looked at each other in silence for a solid six seconds. Pleakley looking sheepish and Jumba looking irritated. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Jumba was unamused, but then, he had an idea. “I need you to locate and capture experiment 275.” Jumba pulled out an alien tablet and retrieved a picture of said experiment. “But be warned,” Jumba stuck up his finger at him. “275 has a… passion for mischief.” “Consider it done.” Pleakley saluted him and made his way out of the kitchen, still wearing his ridiculous costume. Jumba smirked behind him, knowing that his vague warning was not enough to prepare him for what experiment 275 had in store for him.

Once Pleakley was out in the wilderness and out of his silly costume, he searched for the mischievous experiment. 275 didn’t leave behind any traces of itself, so he had to get lucky. And lucky he got after finding the experiment after about 30 minutes of searching. He found the pink experiment playing with a chameleon, which had also turned pink. Upon closer inspection, the experiment seemed to be tickling it. “A chameleon being tickled pink…” Pleakley thought to himself. “That’s not something you see every day.” While experiment 275 was distracted, Pleakley slowly snuck up behind and pointed a net canon at her. He fired, capturing the little tickle monster, and also her chameleon friend by accident. “Gotcha!” Experiment 275 was confused as to what just happened to itself, and slightly distressed. Pleakley leaned towards his capture to get a better look. “Say, you’re a cute one.” With him in close range, the experiment tickled him through the net and felt better already. “Hey- haha- that tickles!” Pleakley squirmed and put his hand on the experiment’s head. “You’re silly.” 275 smiled like a happy dog. “Now, behave yourself, while I bring you back home to Jumba. You can play with your little friend.” Pleakley wagged his finger at the little tickle monster. Upon successful capture, he dragged the net behind him at a safe distance, as to not be tickled continuously on the way back. 275’s chameleon friend made it even easier. Trekking back home, Pleakley held his head up high for a job well done.

“I got it!” Pleakley proudly announced. He walked into the house, dragging experiment 275 and her little chameleon buddy behind him. “Now what?” “I don’t know, I didn’t think you would get that far.” Jumba answered. “W- what do you mean?” He asked. Jumba didn’t answer this time. It didn’t take long for Pleakley to put the pieces together. “Oh, you sent me on a wild tickle monster hunt to get back at me for annoying you earlier, didn’t you?” “Okay, you got me.” Said Jumba. “Now hand it over.” “With pleasure.” Pleakley replied. However, Jumba noticed him untying the knot on the net. “What are you doing?” Experiment 275 was now free, and jumped up and down excitedly. “275, go get Jumba!” Pleakley commanded, pointing at the target. The experiment just looked at him. The two exchanged glances before 275 smiled and pounced on him instead. “Wait, no!” Pleakley protested, before turning into a laughing, writhing mass on the floor. “No! Stop! Not there!” He laughed harder. Jumba also laughed, pointing. This caught 275’s attention. She slowed down her tickling drastically and looked at Jumba. “…Don’t look at me like that.” He started backing up. The experiment stopped tickling Pleakley, who let out a sigh of relief. She then smiled and bounced towards her creator with her spindly fingers wiggling. “Don’t you dare! I created you and I can just as easily- HAHAHAHA!” His creation tickled him indiscriminately. “NO! HAVE MERCY!” Jumba laughed loudly, knowing all too well that he programmed this thing to be a ruthless tickler. All the attention had attracted Lilo and Stitch, who were in the house. The two of them came in just to see the experiment hop off of Jumba and out of an open window, thankfully not noticing them. “It’s gettin’ away!” Pleakley exclaimed. But experiment 275 had already hopped out the window to find its next victim. Jumba groaned. “…What just happened?” Lilo asked. Stitch answered her in his gibberish-sounding language, and then told Jumba something. “I did not think it would turn on me.” Jumba answered, still lying on the floor, defeated. “Come on, we have to go find it before it tickles someone to death!” Said Lilo. “Eh.” Stitch agreed. The two of them set off to find the mischievous little tickle monster. “Now hold on a minute, you two!” Pleakley said. They stopped in their tracks. “Now how exactly do you plan on catching this thing without equipment?” He gave Lilo the net canon he used to capture the experiment earlier. “Thanks, Pleakley.” Said Lilo. Stitch then noticed the chameleon that had crawled out of the net during the chaos. He went up to the creature and picked it up, and it turned blue like him. “Good thinking, Stitch.” Said Pleakley. “You can use its lizard friend to lure it back into captivity.” Stitch watched the chameleon, clearly interested. “Ooohh…” “Now,” announced Lilo, “let’s go catch us a tickle monster.”

Experiment 625 was on patrol on the beach, wearing sunglasses and swim shorts, lounging on a beach chair, chowing down on a hoagie, and generally not doing his job. “This is the life…” he said to himself. He put his hands behind his head. A moment later, his phone rang. He opened it and held it up to his ear. “Yellow?” “625, have you found any experiments yet? It’s been thirty minutes.” Gantu said. “Nah, these things are extra elusive today.” He stretched and yawned. “Just give me a while longer and I’ll definitely have one ready for ya.” “625, no! You are wasting my time.” “Aw, just ten more minutes, pretty please?” He asked. Gantu groaned. “Fine. I don’t enjoy your company anyway.” “Don’t be so salty, ya big sardine. I’ll make you a sandwich.” There was a moment of silence. In that moment, experiment 625 noticed a bright pink creature that was definitely not part of the local fauna. “Ooh, there’s one right there!” “Don’t lie to me.” “No, I’m serious. It’s pink and bouncy and it has big ears.” He took another bite of his hoagie. With his mouth full, he said, “See you soon, buh bye.” Not paying attention, he pressed the mute button instead of hang up button before stuffing the device into his body like a pocket. “625. Experiment 625, are you there?” Gantu asked on his end. He was met with silence. Instead of hanging up, Gantu continued to listen in case he needed backup. Experiment 625 made his way towards the bouncing creature and pulled out a net canon of his own. It didn’t take long for experiment 275 to notice the newfound company. She turned toward him and he widened his eyes, before his expression turning almost grim. “You…” Experiment 275 smiled at him. Gantu, not knowing what was going on, listened in, fearing that his acquaintance was in trouble. The little tickle monster wiggled its fingers and slowly started hopping towards 625. “No… don’t you dare…” But before he knew it, the chase was on. He screamed and ran away from his impending ticklish doom. “625!” Gantu exclaimed, not being heard. He instantly made his way towards his location.

“Do you hear that?” Lilo asked. “Someone is in trouble! We have to rescue them!” Stitch replied in his alien language. “This is more important.” She told him. “Okay…” The two of them ventured towards the screaming. “We’re almost there, come on!” She pushed some big leaves out of the way. In that very moment, the screaming turned into hysterical laughter. “No! Please!” He cackled under his merciless attack. “I can’t breathe!” Lilo and Stitch looked at each other. Gantu showed up at that exact moment. He just watched in disbelief. “Hey!” Lilo shouted. Experiment 275 turned and looked, stopping mid-tickle. 625 sighed loudly. Stitch held up the chameleon and said something. The tickle monster curiously hopped towards it. She took it from Stitch’s hands and began playing with it. Lilo, watching this, had an idea. “Here,” she said. “try it slower.” She rubbed the chameleon with a perfect amount of pressure. Not too much to hurt and not too little to tickle. “Like this.” 275 took the advice, and the chameleon loved it. “Good. Now try it with him.” She pointed at 625. She hopped over to him. “Please, no more…” he weakly croaked. As 275’s hands closed in on him, he prepared for the worst. Instead, he found his shoulders being therapeutically rubbed. “Hey… this feels good.” He relaxed. “I think I’m gonna take a nap right here…” he laid down on the sand. “Good night…” Once he was snoring, Lilo congratulated her. “Good job, Tickle-tummy.” Stitch gave a thumbs up. The newly named experiment smiled. “Now follow me. I know a place where you can be of good use.” Lilo lead the way while the other two trailed behind her. She briefly looked over her shoulder. “Hi, Gantu!” He said nothing and scooped his acquaintance out of the sand and brought him back to the ship as he sleepily mumbled something about a giant sandwich.

The three of them later arrived at a spa. Tickle-tummy looked at it like a curious kitten. They went inside. “Welcome to Paradise Spa.” Said an employee. “How may we refresh you today?” “This is Tickle-tummy.” Said Lilo. “She wants to learn how to be a massager.” Stitch sat down on the floor and let Tickle-tummy do her newly acquired magic. She rolled her fingers into Stitch’s shoulders until he purred like a happy cat. “Oh my, she looks like a natural.” “But you can make her even better.” Lilo said. “I have a feeling this is where she truly belongs.” She was now rubbing Stitch’s belly and he was shaking his leg like a dog. “You’re hired, Tickle-tummy.” Said the employee. She jumped up and down excitedly. “I think you’re going to fit right in.”

On Gantu’s ship, experiment 625 had woken up from his nap. “How come you didn’t capture the experiment?” He asked. “Its antics seemed unworthy of Hämsterviel.” Gantu responded. But he had tried to capture every experiment he could in the past, even if all they did was cause minor inconveniences. 625 smirked. “Any… par’tickler’ reason?” he asked. Gantu didn’t respond. “Well, are ya ticklish? Are ya? Are ya?” He climbed on the captain’s body and started poking around. He had to stifle a laugh. “No, that’s ridiculous!” He yelled, despite squirming around. “Is that so?” 625 asked in a teasing voice. “Then why are you so wiggly?” “Shut up!” He was smiling against his will. 625 laughed. “Tickle tickle, who wants a pic-AAH!” He was launched off of the captain’s body and into a wall. “Ow… ooh, a pickle!” He noticed the tasty treat lying there, and he picked it up and ate it. When he was done, he blissfully sucked the tasty vinegar off his fingers and burped.

The end.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Just so you know, if you’re subscribing to the whole “publicity” thing, going out there to troll or trash Alba, or just generally being a bit of an idiot about him or her, then I’m blocking and unfollowing.

Not because I care, but I DON’T.

I don’t believe it’s publicity. I really don’t. And I think anyone who does is just delusional and desperately wishing for some strange reason he was still single. But that’s my opinion. You are, of course, entitled to yours. Just as I am entitled to not want to read or see it.

And FYI, whilst we’re at it, writing untruths whilst they’re presented as facts (such as things about no leaves being green this time of year- news flash, THEY ARE… or comments about how she Alba possibly be in the country/state due to Visas. Again, BULLSHIT, trust me, I’ve had enough experience with visas for the US to last me a lifetime) is really fucking sad and dangerous.

You parasocial fucks are the reason the majority of us normal guys are now not seeing much of him at all. He said his break from SM was for the summer, I’ll be surprised if he ever comes back at all. So yeah, nice work, morons.

I find it all gross and just a bit strange to be honest. But what I find more gross is how now these people are going for him and her and their looks and how they’re both “gross” and “ugly”, how he’s “losing his looks”, “looks haggard,” “ageing rapidly,” and that she’s a “plain Jane…” bla bla bla. That’s disgusting. And I hope when you finally grow the fuck up, you really understand how shameful that is.

The marriage might last. It might not. But I really think you all need to take a long hard look in the mirror.

This fandom is toxic. And I want nothing to do with that shit. My writing blog is going on indefinite hiatus. The only stuff you’ll see coming from me will be what I’m beta reading or contributing too with my writing partner. I’m out, and need well away from this crazy.