#her heart is too big too beautiful for this world

[thesecondhandwoman]

Can I request a Caitlyn x fem!reader where during the final battle, reader got heavily injured like a big gash at her back or something and Caitlyn saw what happened but couldn’t do anything cause she was fighting Ambessa. In the end is all fluff, reader and Caitlyn got treated for their injuries and reader now has a big scar on her back and got a little insecure but Caitlyn kissed her back saying she’s still beautiful

BEAUTY IN SCARS

Caitlyn x f!reader

Synopsis: Even with scars that remain permanent, Caitlyn’s love for you will never remain temporary. And she proves it every time she sees your discomfort.

Request: Anon 🤍

The battlefield was chaos. Smoke and fire painted the sky in hues of destruction, the acrid scent of gunpowder thick in the air. The war between Piltover and the Undercity versus Ambessa’s forces and Viktor’s creations had reached its crescendo, a desperate clash that would determine the fates of countless lives. Amidst the chaos, Caitlyn was a picture of precision. Her rifle was an extension of her body, her movements fluid and calculated as she kept her sights on the enemy. Every shot she took was deliberate, every decision measured.

But no matter how focused she was, even without that rifle no longer in her hands, her heart refused to stay calm. Her sharp blue eyes darted through the haze, searching for you.

You weren’t far, your figure darted through the rubble, weaving past explosions and gunfire to help those who couldn’t help themselves. Caitlyn had begged you to stay back, to let others fight, but you wouldn’t listen. You never did when it came to protecting people.

Her chest tightened every time she caught a glimpse of you. You weren’t a soldier, nor did you claim to be, but your courage put seasoned fighters to shame. Yet that courage terrified Caitlyn. You were too kind for this world of blood and violence, too soft-hearted to carry the weight of what this battle demanded.

Still, Caitlyn trusted you. She had to.

Her attention snapped back to her current opponent: Ambessa Medarda. The towering warlord moved with the grace of someone who had seen a hundred battles and won them all. Her spear swung with a force that made the ground tremble, and Caitlyn had no choice but to meet her head-on.

Ambessa’s blows were relentless, each one forcing Caitlyn to fight with every ounce of skill and speed she had. The stakes were high, but Caitlyn didn’t falter. She couldn’t afford to.

And then she heard it.

A scream.

Your scream.

Her heart stopped. Time seemed to slow as Caitlyn turned her head, her breath catching in her throat. Through the smoke and flames, she saw you. You were on your knees, blood staining your shirt as it spread from a deep gash across your back.

Her world tilted on its axis.

“Y/N!” she shouted, her voice breaking with desperation.

Your body collapsed before you could get another word out, slumping against the floor motionlessly as blood began to ooze from your back. Caitlyn wanted to drop everything, to run to you, to make sure you were okay. But Ambessa’s spear came down again, forcing her to dodge.

Caitlyn grunted, her eyes quickly darting back at Ambessa as she swung her spear back at her. Her movements became faster, more deliberate. She poured every ounce of her strength into the fight, her only goal to end it and reach you.

By the time the battle ended, the forces of Piltover had prevailed. Both fights from Piltover and Zaun remained, but their numbers were broken from start to finish. Caitlyn didn’t care about the victory, the cost, or even her own injuries.

She sprinted through the rubble, ignoring the ache in her muscles and the blood dripping from a gash on her forearm, or the way her eye was currently blinded, dripping with the same red substance. She found you lying still amidst the debris, your chest rising and falling faintly. Relief and panic warred within her as she dropped to her knees beside you.

“Y/N,” Caitlyn whispered, her voice trembling. “Stay with me. Please.”

Your eyelids fluttered open, and you looked at her with a weak smile. “Hey baby,” you rasped. “You okay?”

Caitlyn’s throat tightened. “Don’t—don’t worry about me,” she choked out, her hands hovering over your injury. “You’re the one who’s bleeding out far more than I am.”

“Mm, guess I beat you at something else yet again..” you joked faintly, your voice trembling with pain.

Caitlyn let out a sound that was half a laugh, half a sob. “Stop talking,” she ordered, though her voice was soft. “Save your strength. I’m getting you out of here.”

Ignoring her own injuries, Caitlyn lifted you into her arms. You winced, a weak groan escaping your lips, and she shushed you gently, her voice trembling. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”

Every step back to the medic’s tent felt like an eternity. The adrenaline carried her forward, her arms trembling under the weight of not you, but the fear of losing you.

The days that followed were excruciating.

You had been stabilized by the medics, the wound treated as best as they could manage. But the damage was deep, and the scar it left behind was jagged and unforgiving. Caitlyn stayed by your bedside, refusing to leave even when her colleagues insisted she needed rest. She spent hours watching over you, her thoughts consumed by guilt and fear.

When you finally woke, Caitlyn was the first thing you saw. She sat slouched in a chair, her hair unkempt and her arm in a sling. Her eyes were bloodshot, but they softened the moment you met her gaze.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice hoarse from exhaustion.

“Morning,” you croaked, your throat dry. Caitlyn immediately moved to help you, holding a glass of water to your lips.

“Slowly,” she murmured, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

Once you’d had your fill, she set the glass down and took your hand in hers, squeezing gently.

“You stayed,” you said softly, your voice filled with quiet gratitude.

“Of course I stayed,” Caitlyn replied, her lips twitching into a faint smile. But the guilt in her eyes was impossible to miss. “I should’ve—”

“Caitlyn,” you interrupted, squeezing her hand. “You did everything you could. Don’t blame yourself.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded, unwilling to argue with you in your fragile state.

As the days turned to weeks, Caitlyn noticed a change in you. You were quieter, more withdrawn. You avoided mirrors and hesitated whenever she offered to help you change or clean your wound.

One evening, Caitlyn found you standing in front of a mirror, your shirt discarded as you stared at your reflection. The scar across your back was stark, a jagged reminder of what you had endured.

You flinched when you saw Caitlyn in the reflection, hastily pulling your shirt back on. “I didn’t hear you come in,” you mumbled.

Caitlyn stepped closer, her expression unreadable. “Why are you hiding from me?”

“I’m not hiding,” you said quickly, though your voice wavered.

Caitlyn gently took your hands in hers, pulling you close. “Please don’t lie to me,” she said softly. “You don’t have to face this type of discomfort alone.”

Your lips trembled. “It’s just the scar, Caitlyn. It’s ugly, and every time I see it, I don’t feel like myself.”

Caitlyn’s heart ached at your words. She cupped your face, her thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Y/N, that scar is a testament to your bravery. It’s proof that you stood up for what you believed in, even when it cost you.”

You shook your head, the weight of your insecurities pressing down on you. “I just, I don’t know how to feel normal again.”

Caitlyn’s gaze softened, and she leaned down, her forehead resting against yours. “You are more than normal. You’re extraordinary.”

She gently lifted your shirt, her fingers tracing the scar with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. “This scar doesn’t make you any less beautiful. If anything, it makes me love you even more.”

She leaned in a little, her lips lightly parting above your scar, ghosting the sensitive skin. “May I?” She asked softly.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded, watching from the mirror as Caitlyn pressed her lips to the scar, her kiss lingering like a promise. “You’re breathtaking,” she murmured. “And no scar will ever make me think different.”

[yazzwrites6962]

Trouble ♡ Silco (Arcane)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Young!Silco x Fem!Vander'sSister!Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Author's Note: UNEDITED! This was not my idea! I got this idea from @truezaunite. Hopefully this turned out how you'd hoped :) Also, I am finally done with finals! So hopefully I can get back on track with practicing my writing. Although, I may be changing my major. That's some extra stress. I don't own any characters/images.

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Vander's younger sister finally returns after eight years away from home. She was once a pesky little girl, following Vander and Silco everywhere they went. Now, she's grown into a bold, confident young woman. Silco finds himself drawn to her in a way he never thought would happen before.

Word Count: 1921

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, intoxication, suggestive content, romantic tension, family tension, harsh expressions

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The dim lights of the Last Drop flickered casting shadows over the bar where Silco sipped at his bitter drink. Vander stood behind the counter, polishing a glass, before a sudden grin tugged at his lips. He looked up at Silco, placing the glass down on the counter.

"She'll be here any minute now." He said, in awe, as if the realization of what was about to happen finally set in. He sighed happily, throwing his rag over his shoulder as his large frame leaned against the bar.

"Your sister?" Silco muttered, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. Vander had casually mentioned your upcoming return a couple weeks ago. "The one who used to follow us around everywhere like a lost pup?"

"She's not so much of a pup anymore, Silco." Vander chuckled. "It's been, what, eight years now? She's grown into her own and doing well from what I hear in her letters."

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Vander jolted with anticipation, but Silco turned lazily. He expected to see the same, wide-eyed little girl he once knew. Instead, walked in a woman who moved with confidence, her gaze sharp as a knife. Your boots stomped against the wooden floors as you approached the men, a warm smile on your face.

"Vander!" You exclaimed, hurrying behind the bar and jumping into your brother's arms. His arms wrapped around you, squeezing you as if he feared you would slip away from him again.

"Welcome back, Y/N." He sighed, glad to finally have his precious little sister home. He pulled back, holding you by the shoulders and taking in the sight before him. "By Janna, you've gotten big! You look... well... you look like trouble!"

Silco watched from his stool as your banter with Vander continued. His usually sharp tongue was momentarily silenced. You were nothing like he had remembered. Your scrawny limbs and irritatingly squeaky voice were nowhere to be found. You were poised, witty, and beautiful.

"Still as broody as ever?" You giggle, snapping Silco from his thoughts as you waved your hand in front of his face. He gulped, attempting to hide his nervousness.

"I see you're still just as obnoxiously loud as I recall." He smirked, picking up his glass and taking a sip. His heart was pounding, and he had only hoped that his cool drink would calm his nerves. "I'm curious, what kept you away so long?"

"Traveling. Learning. Surviving. You know, the usual." You said, plainly, crossing your arms with a playful defiance. You wouldn't give him a proper answer. "Vander never let me feel too far from home, though. His letters kept me sane."

"Someone had to keep you in line." Vander chortled. "Even from across the world." You rolled your eyes, settling in the seat right beside Silco's.

"Now I'm back, so you can rest easy, Vander." You reached out, taking Silco's drink from in front of him and taking a sip. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach as your lips brushed the rim of his glass.

You continued to catch up with Vander, but Silco's eyes never left you. There was something magnetic about the way you carried yourself, which left him feeling uncharacteristically unsettled.

As the night wore on, the bar filled with the usual chatter of patrons. Vander grew busier and busier keeping his establishment running. You found yourself sitting alone with Silco as Vander ran back and forth, keeping the customers happy.

"I should probably get going." You said, sliding Silco's glass back over to him. "I've got a lot to unpack. Tell Vander I'll be back tomorrow, yeah?" You didn't want to interrupt your brother's work. Besides, if you tried to say goodbye, Vander would only try to keep you there all night.

"Of course." Silco smirked, his finger running along the glass. "I'm sure I can speak for both Vander and I when I say it's good to have you back home."

"it's good to be back." You chuckled, placing a finger b=beneath Silco's chin and lifting him to meet your eyes. You could see the pink dusting his cheeks as you did so. "Don't miss me too much, now. See you in the morning."

You turned away, waving to Vander as you walked out of the bar. Silco huffed, frustrated with the realization that you were definitely trouble, as Vander had previously remarked.

"Now, what're you smirking for?" Vander grumbled with suspicion, returning to the bar and setting down a tray of dishes to clean. The Last Drop had emptied slightly after you left.

"She's certainly not what I anticipated." He tried to keep his tone casual, but the waiver in his voice was undeniable. Vander raised an eyebrow.

"I swear Silco, you'd better not be planning on roping her into another one of your schemes." Vander shook his head disapprovingly at his friend.

"Relax. I'm not planning anything." He leaned back in his seat, remembering just how protective Vander always was over you. "Just reacquainting. After all, she's family."

"Yeah, well just don't go getting any slick ideas." Vander warned, not fully trusting that Silco wasn't plotting something. "She's got enough to deal with out there. She doesn't need you adding more to her plate."

"Of course not." Silco waved his hand dismissively, but his thoughts betrayed him. The memory of your teasing touch lingered, leaving him more flustered than he would like to admit. "Though... Tell me Vander... Why do I get the feeling she could hold her own against anyone or anything, even you?" Vander paused, contemplating Silco's word for a moment before a smile of pride lit his face.

"Because she can."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You had been back in your hometown for the past few months. Most of your time was spent helping in your brother's bar. The Last Drop was unusually lively tonight. People shouted over the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. Silco was in no mood for the ruckus. He sat in the corner with a half-empty bottle of his favorite drink.

"Drinking all by yourself? How sad." Your voice suddenly poked through the chatter. He turned to spot you right beside him, taking the seat to his left without asking permission.

"Maybe I prefer to be in the company of my thoughts tonight." He slurred, a scowl on his face as he grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass. He sure would need it, if you were going to stick around.

"Jeez. Here I thought you were happy to see me." You raised an eyebrow, taking the bottle from his hands and pouring a glass for yourself. He shivered as your fingers brushed against his in the exchange.

"You have such a way of making things complicated." He grumbled; the alcohol having loosened his tongue. His mind was foggy, and the room spun around him.

"Complicated? Me?" You questioned, a giggle erupting from your throat. "What did I do this time?" You saw Silco hesitate, swirling the liquid in his glass. The room felt warmer than before, and his usually guarded mind betrayed him.

"You... You make me feel things. Things I shouldn't be feeling." He replied, leaning forward against the table in attempt to still his dizziness.

"What are you talking about?" Your laughter faltered, replaced by a cautious curiosity. He looked up at you, softly, his usually sharp eyes clouded by something you couldn't name.

"You." He growled. "It's always you. It's always been you. You walk in suddenly after eight years, and nothing else matters. It's distracting. It's frustrating. Infuriating."

"Are you drunk?" You question immediately, choosing not to put too much thought into his words. He's just talking nonsense. At least, that's what your initial reaction was.

"Perhaps." He leaned back in his seat, shutting his eyes. "That doesn't make it any less true." Silco was not usually the type to allow himself to be too intoxicated. You bite your lip, your cheeks burning.

On the one hand, you wanted to explore more into his words. You wanted to understand his feelings. What he meant. However, you knew you shouldn't be prying into the private matters of a drunk man. Especially not Silco. You cared for him.

"You really know how to throw a girl off her game, don't you?" You joked, taking the bottle from the table and placing it far enough that Silco wouldn't be able to reach.

"Just forget about it." He grumbled, opening his palm and sitting up, expecting you to return the bottle to him. He noticed you taking it away. He hoped you would just leave him to continue his drinking in peace.

"No." You spoke sternly. "No more drinking tonight for you, and no. I won't forget about it," Silco groaned, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes once more. "But maybe I don't want to."

His eyes shot open, flickering to meet yours. Before you could continue, Vander called your name, needing assistance with the flow of customers rushing through the door. You stood, quickly smoothing your clothes.

"We'll talk more about this later." You winked, hurrying to help your brother. Silco watched you go, his heart pounding harder than it ever had. For better or for worse, the truth was out, and there was no way of taking it back.

But maybe he didn't want to.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The storage room behind the Last Drop became a sanctuary for you and Silco. The dim lighting and cluttered shelves provided just enough privacy for your secret meetings, and tonight was no different.

Silco pressed you against the wall, lips feverish against yours. One of his hands was tangled in your hair while the other gripped at your waist.

"You're going to be the death of me." He murmured against your lips, his hands exploring your body. He peppered kisses along your jawline, traveling down your neck. You hummed, hands gripping at his hair and clothing, pulling him closer into you.

"What the hell is this?!" Vander's voice boomed, his large frame filling the doorway. Neither you nor Silco had heard the door open. You sighed, calmly adjusting your clothing. Silco looked as though his soul had left his body.

"It's exactly what it looks like." You said boldly, surprising both men with your fearlessness. "I know this is a shocker. You don't have to like it, but you will respect it."

Silco nervously looked between you and Vander, half expecting to be punted across the room at any moment. Vander's lips pressed into a thin line as he looked down at you. You grabbed Silco's hand, intertwining your fingers to try and sooth his anxiety. Finally, Vander let out a sigh.

"If you hurt her-" His expression softened as he realized he was glad you'd chosen Silco, not some stranger he didn't trust. You interrupted before Vander could finish his sentence.

"He won't." You smiled, feeling Silco's grip loosing as his heart calmed. Vander eyed Silco, trying to come to terms with the fact that he had just caught his best friend sucking face with his little sister.

"I won't." Silco nodded. "You have my word." Vander sighed once again, turning out of the doorway and muttering something about how he was too old to deal with this. You were alone with Silco again, and a smile played at your lips.

"You're trouble, you know that?" Silco let out a breath, wiping the nervous sweat from his forehead. You giggled, pressing a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Mhmm, but I'm your trouble now."

[sirenedeslily]

VIDEO OBSESSION 〻ᯇ # matthew sturniolo

✦ SEARCHING FOR PROFILES… two results found !

result ONE out of TWO — @ChromeHearts

MATTHEW STURNIOLO, marlboro-stained recluse. winter fog. chrome hearts. eyebags? permanent. little big planet. streamer incapable of not raging. body littered in tattoos. opium* meets forgotten ps2 game protagonist. yohji yamamoto. blade runner (1982). 2002. scared of the hoes. relies heavily on sarcasm, dry quips, and saying “bruh” at the most inappropriate times. permanently tired. takes games way too seriously but always clutches the win. vamp anthem by playboi carti. boston › nyc.

KAILANI HENDRIX, the quintessential “soft girl” youtuber from nyc. tinted lip gloss. born in pink tulle & lace. doe eyed. small, delicate tattoos peeking from under lace-trimmed sleeves. miu miu. short n sweet. freshly painted nails holding a cup of matcha. directed by sofia coppola. prada candy. deer-themed knickknacks. soft spoken. rhode. leg warmers. dainty gold rings. ‘03 princess. her most cherished possession? her custom made blythe doll that her boyfriend gifted her. bambi by clairo. sandy liang. ballet flats.

CHRIS STURNIOLO, static by lucki. vivienne westwood. 2002. disheveled and clueless. stussy. mario kart aficionado but only chooses donkey kong. pepsi. hot wheels hoarder. timberlands. chronically inebriated but somehow always lucid enough to pull off a quick-witted comeback. dior sauvage. collects old bootleg mixtapes of obscure 90’s memphis rap. french toast crunch. album reaction streamer who plays ssx tricky and gta v when high. custom lighter with his beautiful girlfriend on it. godly at fortnite.

NAO CHUNG, kill bill: vol. 1 (2003). deeply nostalgic for jet set radio future, and can recite every dj professor k line from memory. born in ‘00. yumin ha. soju. aphex twin. sonic adventure 2. co-parents a tamagotchi with his boyfriend nick. korea › nyc. spike spiegel. incapable of thinking before he speaks. ralph lauren polo. self thought producer. ysl l’homme. singer who effortlessly blends the edge of k-rnb with dreamy electronic textures, capturing a raw, nostalgic energy rooted in korean street culture. omen main but exclusively runs knife kills in unranked just to troll his friends.

NICK STURNIOLO, self titled idgaf warrior. vintage olympus om-10. obsessed with collecting bootleg runway tapes and niche comme des garçons accessories—his holy grail is an unreleased cdg tote from their 1998 guerilla pop-up in paris.. gentle monster eyewear. homotron 3000. poison by brent faiyaz. carries a polaroid of nao tucked into the coin slot of his vivienne westwood wallet. ‘02 star. mocha macarons. always in second-hand luxury stores. comme des garçons odeur 53. youtuber known for his meticulous fashion reviews. leather jackets and marlboro reds.

back to profile one @FallenAngels - back to masterlist!

🖥️𓈒ིུ✧꫶᳜᳝͟ᰭ✿⃨ TRENDING NOW ! matt sturniolo was known for many things: his striking looks, his dominance in the gaming world, and his complete inability to keep his cool around beautiful women. so it’s almost poetic—almost—that his fiery temper explodes during an intense fortnite match, broadcasted live to thousands, only to discover later that the player who completely shattered his pride was y/n greenblatt, one of the most beloved streamers in the community—and undeniably beautiful.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ PLS SEND ASK I WANNA KNOW WHAT CHARACTER YOURE MORE DRAWN TO

TAGLIST ( open ) ; @carvedtits @et6rnalsun @wovenribbons @flouvela @waitforyrlove @elizabebabe @ncm9696 @marrykisskilled @maggot3647 @l34n @sturniolossss @lovingregulusblack @cl1tlover3000 @mattslolita @mattssgf @le4hsblog @brvtall @mattscoquette @chratts-left-ball @jetaimevous @angelesqve @starlace111 @secretlocket @starkeyszn @etherealval @slut4chriss @star-yawnznn @nickmillersn1gf @sturnsmia @tastesousweet @strnilolover @xoxo4chrisss @ifwdominicfike @emely9274 @fratbrochrisgf @2augustsago @sturn777 @st4rsturns

[saioratral]

PARING: william james moriarty x f!reader

PROMPT: believe me SYNOPSIS: would removing nobles be an excuse for killing? even if the intention was good?

WARNING: none NOTE: obsessed with jang wonyoung these days so im using her as the pictures. i saw this in my drafts for a long time so here ya go :D i wrote this feeling a little down from stuff going on at home so this was a great distraction. enjoy!

william was a dedicated man to you, the perfect man. he had no flaw and in your eyes, he was the one you thought you would spend your life with. you first met him at your university job, where he was a respected professor. his charm and intelligence quickly drew you in, as they did with everyone else. who could resist?

he was striking, with blonde hair that caught the eye, almost as if it demanded attention. yet, it wasn’t just his looks that captivated you- it was his humbleness and the genuine care with which he spoke to everyone around him. he made you feel seen, heard, and special

to call yourself lucky to marry him was an understatement. you were now like a princess in the moriarty mansion, the others being your guards. your prince was yours, and yours alone. every day felt like a dream, one you were grateful to live. but those dreams now chase you, like a monster ready to consume you into a world you could not recognise 

“how could you do this to me, william?” you screamed, your voice filled with betrayal. “all these years together… for nothing?”

“if you just let me explain-”

“there’s nothing to explain!” you raised your voice, your eyes welling with tears. “i can’t believe i’m carrying your child… you monster!”

“i did it for the good of this country,” william insisted, trying to reason with you. “you have to believe me, my dear”

you stared at him in disbelief. “good? there are other ways to do good! killing nobles isn’t one of them. you’re no better than a criminal. how can you decide on who dies?”

william looked down, the weight of your accusation hanging heavily on him. his intentions were good, you know but his way of doing it was wrong. how was he different from the others then? in their eyes, they were only doing good- the same as the man you loved 

“how could you?” you muttered, your voice breaking

“dear…” william trailed off, hesitant to approach

“don’t call me that!” you scrunch your face in disgust. “it sounds horrible when you say it”

“this dress you gave me.. it’s also given by your tainted hands right? all the noblemen, all their blood is in your hands”, you shout walking closer to him 

william stands there, his gaze falling to the pink dress you wore today. the puff sleeves with the pearl necklace, you were a picture of beauty, even as you walked closer, every heel tap filled with anger. you jabbed your finger into his chest, right where his heart beat

“wash your hands all you want,” you continued. “but that blood will never come off. you’ve tainted yourself”

“i know,” william finally spoke, his voice low. “i know i’ve done wrong. i can’t turn back time. but if you just listen-”

“listen?” you interrupted. “how could you keep something this big from me? how could you lie to me for so long?”

you hated him now, every fiber of him. “am i not trustworthy? you broke our promise to always be honest with each other”

“i had no choice,” william responded, his voice strained as he took a step back.

“it was for your sake, i did not want to stress you my dear”, he speaks softly to you in hopes you hear him 

“just answer me one thing”, you look at him sadly. “did you kill anyone? with your own hands” 

“wouldn’t you like to know?”, william replies 

“i would, but i don't in the same time” 

he looked at you, pain and regret in his eyes, but his words remained empty. you looked down at the wedding ring on your finger, it must have been tainted by their blood too. slowly, you slipped it off and threw it to the ground

william was no longer the man you had married. he was a stranger- a monster in your eyes

you turned to leave, but then the sharp pain hit your chest. time stopped, your mouth wide open from the shock. you gasped, clutching the wound as you leaned against the dresser for support. your vision blurred as you looked at william, your voice trembling, “why aren’t you helping me?”

he didn’t move. he didn’t offer comfort or reach out to touch you at all. he just stood there, staring, his gaze drifting to the window. the curtains had been drawn- when had that happened? you both never leave the curtains open

“moran has a good aim, doesn’t he?”, william said

it was all staged… everything had been planned. you should have expected that

your pink dress absorbed the red blood oozing from your wound, before you felt another sting on your leg. you fall on the ground, the dresser’s drawers being your support. you look to william, hazy vision seeing him crouch down 

“my child will not be taken from me,” he said softly. “why don’t you just take a little nap, dear? you must be so tired”

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images are from pinterest

[lionwitch]

Tim Drake Edits Reality

Hear me out. Tim Drake has always loved photography, that's wildly accepted and known. But what if he has powers too?

What if whatever Tim edits into his pictures becomes the truth?

The first time it happened, Tim was just starting his photography hobby. His parents bought him a camera and he was so exited! He took a picture of his mom's Rosebush, a single rose in the entire bush, half Withered.

Tim found the picture beautiful, and he started messing with photoshop, editing the withered flower back to the bright red it used to be. He decided it looked lonely and sad, the bush dry and the rose edited to be lively but alone in the middle. So he edited the dry areas of the bush back to the lively green and more roses in it. The picture looked very different from the original, but it was beautiful. Satisfied, he saved the end result.

That afternoon, when he walked through the garden, the very same dry rosebush he photographed looked just like his edited picture: lively, with rich colors and plenty of roses.

It made no sense, but he ignored it.

He kept taking pictures and editing them, though the changes were small, like the lighting and all that. Sometimes he made small changes, and he definitely noticed them and thought it was weird, but didn't quite connect the dots. He was kind of in denial. He couldn't be a meta or anything! Right?

And then his parents left for a few months and he was lonely, but he didn't want to admit it. And at school everyone was talking about their pets, and he messed up and lied. "I just adopted a Border Collie puppy!" he lied, thinking that would be it, people would forget, he would get out of the awkward situation (why did everyone have pets?) and nothing would happen. Well turns out, everyone wanted to see his puppy.

So Tim came home and prepared his camera, in his trusted tripod to look like it had been taken by someone else, and took pictures of himself, a whole photoshoot, with his arms stretched like carrying a dog, and then sitting like he was playing with it.

He searched for a perfect Border Collie puppy, one who had a whole photoshoot just for that one, so he could be sure the pictures were coherent and no one would question them. He carefully edited them and memorized every feature of his supposed dog in case anyone asked, to keep his story straight. Once satisfied, he sent them to those who asked for pictures, and received plenty of "cute dog!" compliments. It had taken him all day, so he went to bed almost immediately after, already past midnight.

He woke up to the very same blue eyed fluffy Border Collier puppy he edited into his pictures, licking his face, the same blue harness and leash hung on his door, and even the bed and bowls he put in the background were on the corner of his room now.

He freaked out, of course, but the small pup didn't seem all that worried. And apparently he now had a puppy? Well, he's always wanted one. He named her Frankie, because her multiple colors and patterns clashed like Frankenstein's monster, like she had been made for from mismatched parts.

He loved Frankie. She was so smart! And Frankie was quite loyal and enamored by him, too. He was her whole world, and she was his heart, his companion and confidant, his best friend and ally in his too-big house.

He did decide to experiment though. He needed more research.

When a boy at school picked on him, he edited his picture bald, and that same day his father shaved his hair. He tried again with another boy who picked on Jason (Jason doesn't know Tim exists yet, but Tim keeps an eye out for him), editing his hair bright barbie pink, and this time he added a date to the corner, writing the date of a week ago, two days before the pictures for his football team were taken.

When Tim saw the football team's pictures displayed at school, the boy had pink hair in them, that he didn't yesterday. He asked around, if the pictures looked different to anyone else.

"yeah, I don't know what persuaded him to dye his hair pink before picture day and the tournament."

"I asked him two days ago, he said he lost a bet."

Two days ago. Tim's mind was reeling. He asked the boy himself when he dyed his hair, and he replied with the date Tim edited on the corner of the picture.

Did Tim just... Edit reality?

He later uses this power to his advantage on patrol, and before that while watching the Bats.

Jason is surrounded? He takes a picture and edits a few goons out of it quickly. They aren't there when he looks up.

Shit Joker escaped? He doesn't have the energy to deal with it right now. He edits tonight's date on a picture of Joker sitting peacefully in his cell and a few more guards for good measure.

His family doesn't understand why he takes a small discreet camera on patrol in his utility belt

[princesssmars]

concrete jungle with the devil.

some victoria neuman x reader headcanons.

part.ii of this

you’re beautiful, you’re talented, and you’re the secret girlfriend of a hot and potentially crazy congresswoman. what more could you ask for?

contains : fxf relationship. fluff. angst. manipulation, pretty toxic relationship because its the boys and its victoria, mentions of smut. readers hair and face not described.

wc : 2.415

a/n : started this when season two was airing. look at what an idiot i was.

you had forgotten how much walking was done in certain cities in the states, especially in the big apple. to be fair, you’d forgotten quite a few things.

you remembered things you had forgotten gradually after that night when you realized you were not only a supe, but a supe that had been unknowingly manipulating yourself with your apparent superpowers into forgetting parts of your life. would be a cool plot for a book if it wasn’t your entire life but, whatever.

after managing to think of the revelation without nearly having a panic attack and ‘crazy high blood pressure’ as victoria so eloquently put it, you’d fallen into a kind of…ease?

in her ‘loving worry’ the woman had put you under her watchful eye, moving you into her home to prevent you from doing anything ‘drastic’ and helping you acclimate to your new state of living. she paid for your expensive hotel for another week before not subtly (and not asking) recommending you stay in her townhome.

and she’ll make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be the entire time. find the guest bed uncomfortable? her first offer is for you to just sleep with her, but she’ll settle for making sure you have a new mattress and comforter set. feeling sad over your rapid change in diet? a personal chef is hired to make you authentic parisian dishes to your hearts content.

it’s completely jarring how she has such a hold on your heart. you know a part of you can’t move on because of your powers, but every time you try to remind yourself of how weird your situation is you’re roped right back in when she comes home from work and tells you how she was thinking of you all day, giving you physical affection when you seem open to it by pressing a sweet kiss to the side of your head.

as childish as it is, a small part of you wishes you had an actual label for your relationship. ‘woman who wooed me then flew me across the globe to accomplish my dream and then revealed she wants to take advantage of my unexplored power’ was more than a mouthful. even ‘partner’ would be preferable.

it’s amplified by the fact that you aren’t really in a relationship.

you’ve slept together, something you embarrassingly think about often at night when your hand trails beneath the soft satin pajama set she had gifted you. at the end of the day you do have needs, and having your sexual world rocked only to have to (reasonably) avoid the perpetrator as best as you can is all too confusing to process.

not to mention that she still treats you sweetly and romantically when in private, fingers brushing over your arms and pet names whenever she sees you in a room of her house, but outside and in public her career calls for…propriety? and a relationship with another woman in your career would hurt her numbers apparently. at least that's what her publicist said. she didn't seem very bright yo you, but victoria was throwing hundreds at her to support her campaign.

and oh yeah, she decides to tell you randomly on a thrusday night in while making dinner with her daughter that she actually is talking with another politician about running for president and vice president. zoe had to help you when you nearly choked on your pasta.

you hadn't delved too deep into politics when over in paris, only googling the basics about small party leaders who'd show up to bars and would likely engage in small talk over a few drinks. the first time you even learned about vic's profession you already heard alarm bells in your head, but president? seriously?

she tried to reassure you about it, listing off all the benefits it would bring to her family - which now apparently includes you. a better government position meant a better quality of living, moving into the secure grounds of number one observatory circle with access to the government's protection, connections, and loads of money. you and zoe both perked up at that. you looked at the girl curiously and she shrugged her shoulders, admitting later that she would like to be able to travel to more places farther than the met.

unsurprisingly, you grow closer to zoe. you aren’t given many opportunities to make a lot of friends, and the only adult conversations you get are your friends back in pairs over the phone and victoria along with her campaign help. at first you helped her a little with her homework, even if the curriculum for her private school was leagues above what you learned in your little low-budget middle school. eventually, you start to just talk about shared interests, and you're pleasantly surprised to find out the girl is musically gifted. its sweet to see that vic set up a corner of her office for the girl to practice her talents, and whenever she offers you listen to her play a piece on her cello.

you never bring it up, but one time victoria stopped at the house for a long lunch once and overheard the two of you talking about a piece you both loved before zoe practiced it on her instrument. she stood out of sight in the doorway for a minute and just observed. as soon as you noticed her presence she was gone.

when things start looking up in the polls vic starts to show a little leniency with letting you have an actual life. of course she uses some backdoor connections to get you a boost in your career, and you find a great deal of peace in being able to perform to your hearts content. it only helps that the atmosphere of entertainment in new york is alive and bursting, you meet so many fellow musicians and singers.

slowly but surely you start to fall for the city. sure it can be dirty and smell weird and have heaps of garbage everywhere, but just like with paris you’re able to find the hidden jems that lurk just below the surface.

and after some pestering whenever the two of you manage to be in a room alone together for more than a few minutes, victoria finally starts to explain to you…well, you.

you’d always gotten a bad feeling by vought, never liked the way they profited off of the supers and marketed them to certain countries and people. finding out that they made you the ‘way you are’ . apparently, both you and vic’s parents thought letting a company shoot some super drug into their children would a smart idea, that you’d both go on to do something great.

“well, i guess you are kind of great, in a sense. smart enough to become a politician, raise a good kid. are they proud of you?”

she only gave you a dry chuckle as she took a sip of her dark wine.

“yeah, yeah they’re really proud.”

as much as you start to try, you cant get in to her head. you’ve been thrust into the middle of her life and routine and there’s still so many things about her you don’t know. hell, you don’t even know what her power really is still. you can tell she wants to let you in some, either for her own feelings or because she wants to help you explore your supercharged feelings for her to understand more about your abilities.

but just like when you talked about vought, as soon as she’s about to open up you see that look, one of a fear you’d never quite seen before flash in her eyes before she quickly dismisses you.

so you decide to tale a.. drastic measure to get some things out of her.

you had been exploring your power a bit in your new daily life, just little things that didn’t make too much of a difference or affect anyone too greatly. a simple request for the customer ahead of you to apologize to a barista they’d needlessly ridiculed, innocently asking a rushing passerby to give you directions to a cafe you had just been dying to try. it took a few weeks to get the hang of it, the fact that it apparently worked best when you were singing and the toll it could take on your body, but the dizziness fades eventually.

it’s a rare night where the two of you are in the house alone together and you decide to celebrate your recent well-perceived performance by opening up a bottle of bubbly and sitting on the couch, dressed in some maybe too revealing pajamas and waiting for her to inevitably join you once she finishes settling in from a long day at the campaign office.

she joins you and clink s her glass to yours, rolling her eyes into your drink when you immediately ask her a question about all of her plans.

“its gonna take more than some expensive champagne and you looking like that for me to crack, but nice try sweetheart.”

“oh yeah?” your finger teases the rim of your glass, eyes trained on her movements.

“yeah. let’s stick to the basic questions for now.”

you hum a short tune to yourself and take another sip of your drink. “okay. you should tell me what you had for lunch today.”

“patricia picked me up a ceasar salad today. it had too many croutons, a really absurd amount. sat confused for a few seconds.”

her eyes scrunch up slightly and flick to yours. you take her silence as a sign to keep going.

“i never really get to talk to your assistant. she told me once her name was morticia.”

she laughs and sets her glass on the coffee table, “think she might’ve been intimidated by you. she can be a real tightass but she’s a hardworker, believes in my campaign and message and all that shit.”

“dont try to skirt past that, tell me why she’s intimidated by me.”

her eye twitches, clearly annoyed by what you’re doing and not used to someone having this kind of control over her. but each time you do it you notice the way her hand clenches on the cushion of the sofa, how her tongue darts out to quickly lick over her bare lips.

“she wants me, checks me out sometimes when we’r ein the office. but the reason i hired her is that she’s incredibly observant, and she’s probably picked up that the two of us have a weird thing going on.”

your eyes slightly scrunch together. “what do you mean by ‘weird thing’ ?”

clearly your aggravation at how she decided to describe...admittedly whatever this weird thing between the two of you was, its enough for your concentration to slip and allow her to get out of the concentrated hold you had on her mind. in only a few seconds she’s pinning your body down to the couch, your wrists held down by her hands and your drink falling to the floor with a loud shatter.

‘ugh! vic, what the hell-” you struggle to get out of her grip, thrashing your arms and trying to kick up your legs that are trapped under her thighs. you apparently greatly underestimated how strong she is.

“that’s it baby, get angry, let it all out.” she has a fascinated smile on her face that does nothing to quell your frustration, only giving you the desire to get right back to messing with her anyway how.

“tell me why you’re doing this to me!”

“i like watching you under me, plus i like having control over you. definitely don’t want you turning the tables on me again.”

you notice that when you command her to explain her voice takes on this fast tone, like she’s rushing to answer you as soon as you finish speaking.

“you think i’ve dont you what you’ve done to me?”

“isn’t it fucking obvious? you just forced me to tell you something i wasn’t supposed to mention. i have to keep sharing things with you, you make me want to share things with you. you’re controlling me and you don’t even know it.”

“why don’t you want me to control you?”

“because i’ve been controlled before. its horrifying. you could be horrifying. because it’s not part of the plan. none of this is. god, you were supposed to be gone by now but i just can’t…i don’t-”

both of you’re eyes are wide when her speech starts to slip, fighting against the control to keep telling you what she’s hiding. her head jerks and you feel a rush of hot liquid rush down your face, your hand miraculously free to let you feel the blood pouring out of your nose. you look back at her and she’s scrambled to the other end of the couch, eyes trained ahead of her as she gets herself out of the daze.

abruptly she stands up, swiping off any leftover unease and starting her trek towards the stairs as you wipe off the now slow moving trail of fluid trailing from your nose.

as soon as she reaches the first step you call out to her, blood dripping into your mouth as your voice takes on a bittersweet and melodic sound.

“how do you feel about me, victoria?”

her manicured hand clenches around the wood bannister so hard you fear it’ll snap.

“you’re powerful. you’re useful and you’re terrifying.”

tears prick at your lashline as you swipe at more of the red covering your mouth. her head turns to meet your blurry gaze.

“i think i’m in love with you.”

you zone out to the sound of her footsteps rushing up the stairs and the light-headness from exertion.

you had forgotten what one one of the worst things about being in a city was. how despite being surrounded by thousands of people and hundreds of lives, inevitably came those times where you were alone as a person could be.

[cherub-berry]

*:..｡o○ CRAVING SMOKE | Porco Galliard x Reader

╰┈➤ Contents: fem! reader, both Porco and reader smokes cigarettes, reader wears glasses, reader is an eldian nurse, reader carrying an injured man, mention of injury, mention of war, the aftermath of war, guilt, survivor guilt, cigarette kisses, Porco opening up, mention of Marcel, teasing and banter, writer is not good with grammar

╰┈➤ Word count: 5.9k

╰┈➤ Note: this is inspired by my illustration of Porco. I also wanted to thank my friend Ari for co-writing this fic with me, with out their help I don't think I can finish this, so a big applause for Ari!

The smell of blood and fear lingered in the air, clinging like a vice. The war had ended or so they said. But for the war veteran and survivor, it was a never-ending cycle. He stood atop his titan, smoke rising from its neck as the giant's body slumped to the ground. Porco Galliard, or as most people knew him, the Jaw Titan. The sky, once a clear blue, now darkened to shades of purple and orange, a beautiful scene if he didn’t notice the endless bodies beneath him. Eldians and Marleyans alike lay caught in the crossfire, everyone is a victim of war, even if they never participated.

Porco wishes he were a simple man with a simple dream, but what he wants is anything but simple. Yet here he is, bloodied and brooding, weighed down by the weight of a wish he never truly understood. He got what he wanted, one of the Nine Titans, but at what cost? Marcel’s death? Bertholdt’s fate? Or even the betrayal that still hangs between him and Reiner? The power, the legacy—it all feels hollow now, a cruel reminder of the sacrifices made. Each Titan form, each battle, has only deepened his pain, leaving him to wonder if the price was ever worth it.

He watches as the Warrior candidates celebrate, hugging and cheering for Gabi Braun, elated by the success of her sacrifice. He can't help but smile, ruffling her head as if to say, "Good job." But as he watches them, a bitter knot tightens in his chest. Their troop is dwindling at a rapid pace. Every single day, the enemy's weapons grow deadlier, more advanced, more terrifying. Porco himself almost tasted death recently, saved only by the Armored Titan, Reiner Braun. Meanwhile, the Warriors’ tent is filled with the sounds of laughter, men drinking tasteless alcohol and eating MREs to their heart's content. They laugh as if they don't care about what awaits them when they return home or if they'll ever return at all.

The night drags on, and eventually, the lights in the tents fade to black. Everyone is deep asleep, like corpses, except for Porco. War Chief Zeke Yeager is awake too. Zeke is focused on a book—a children's book, of all things. How peculiar, Porco thought. But this is Zeke, no one can ever guess what he's really thinking. A metallic mug of coffee is clutched in Zeke's left hand, while his right flips through the pages of the book.

"Stop staring so much, you're going to make me blush," Zeke muttered, his eyes still transfixed on the pages.

Porco raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the book. "Is it interesting? I mean, it’s a children’s book."

Zeke glanced up briefly, taking a sip of his coffee. "It has its charms. You never know until you read it."

Porco smirked. "Charms? For a kid’s story?" He sat up on his cot. "You’re not getting soft on me, are you?"

Zeke chuckled, eyes back on the book. “Soft? Perhaps. We need more simple things in a chaotic world that's going to fall apart”

The Jaw Titan studied him for a moment, watching as the man in front of him tracing the book cover. He shrugged “can’t say I found comfort in kids’ stories. But hey, if it helps you sleep at night…”

After a long pause, Zeke smiled at him. Closing the book and finishing his coffee. “The world needs hope more that it needs war, even if it's for a brief moment”

The night hung heavy around them as Porco fell silent, he can't lie Zeke is a very interesting person, but also a dangerous one.

"Gonna go smoke for a bit," Porco said, breaking the silence.

"If I were you, I wouldn't," Zeke muttered. "The war is over for us, but not for the nurses. It’s chaos out there.”

Porco ignored Zeke’s warning and headed out into the night. The cold air hit him immediately, as a gust of wind tousled his hair. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, exhaling smoke into the crisp night. The silence outside was different—empty, almost suffocating. He stood there for a while, letting the chill sink in, his thoughts drifting as the smoke swirled upward. Zeke’s words echoed in his mind, but he pushed them aside.

He lights a cigarette and exhales a cloud of nicotine into the frigid air, the wind growing sharper and colder. He glances into the distance, where the medical tents stand far from the others. The muffled sounds of screaming and crying drift toward him. Unlike the warriors' tent—silent, warm, and inviting, the medical tents are bright, chaotic, and soaked in blood. Curiosity tugs at him, and he steps closer. The screams grow louder, and he sees nurses rushing about, covered in blood, their faces hidden behind masks and surgical gloves.

The head nurse stumbles by, her eyes wide with panic as she clutches the gruesome bandage “what are you doing here!? Stay back,” her voice strained. “We're losing him, quickly, morphine!”.

Porco watches in silence, in awe. Cigarette forgotten as the ashes drop down to the dirt floor. Another nurse passed him, not glancing at him. Her gaze never meeting his. Zeke was right, it's war here.

Your hands are shaking as you struggle to open the morphine bottle, the lid slipping from your trembling fingers. As you fumble, your glasses slide down your nose and nearly fall off, but you barely notice, too focused on the task at hand.

Getting a syringe you dipped the needle into the bottle giving it a light tap before injecting it into the dying man, preparing him for the pain that will follow.

Time seemed to slow down for Porco as he watched the nurses rushing to help the unconscious man. Every moment felt stretched, the hurried movements of the medical staff blending into a blur of urgency, while his own focus remained locked on the scene unfolding before him.

But one nurse stood out to Porco—the woman with glasses. She didn’t appear much older than he was, yet she was carrying a half-dead man alone, her movements steady and deliberate despite the heavy burden. The sight of her, focused and determined, carrying the unconscious man toward the operating tent, struck Porco deeply. To him the woman was not only carrying his life, but the hopes of a fallen soldier.

“It's going to be okay Mr. Charlie! You're going to go home soon,” You said, gently lowering him on the bed, reassuring him and also yourself.

Nurses swarmed around the man, preparing him for surgery, while your hand trembled, heavy with the responsibility of his life.Your chest tightens, the weight of the moment pressing down, and your breath catches in your throat. It's the sudden, overwhelming realization of how fragile life is, how much is at stake in this very moment.

“(Name), you did well today. You can take the rest of the night off,” One of the older nurses said, putting on her mask and surgical gloves.

You nod quietly, too exhausted to argue. In truth, you wanted to stay—to assist the nurses, to see the surgery through. But as you turn to leave the surgical tents, the weight of your fatigue pulls you away, each step heavy as you step out into the cool night air.

The breeze brushes against your skin, a soft, fleeting touch, like a kiss that might vanish at any moment. Adjusting your glasses you finally notice a young man staring outside one of the tents, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. You approach him and tap his shoulder once—did he not feel it? You tap again, then speak.

“Excuse me, sir, you're not allowed to smoke here.”

“Shit, sorry.” He drops the cigarette and crushes it under his boot. His voice sounds distant, almost detached, but there’s an unmistakable tension in his posture. Though his face remains calm, his eyes reveal a different story, one of turmoil and inner conflict that he’s trying hard to hide.

You look at him from head to toe. You know this man, the infamous Jaw Titan. His face carries the unmistakable feature that haunts Liberio. Nurses often fawn over the warriors, often calling the man in front of you “a handsome asshole with a good heart”. A certain charm behind those cold and rigid eyes that will make people swoon.

Porco’s eyes met yours. And for a moment, your breath catches. There's something undoubtedly intimate in his gaze—unacknowledged attraction. The connection feels so short yet so magnetic, it makes you want his gaze even more.

“You’ve got something on your cheek,” He says, pointing to his face to clarify.

Your eyes widen slightly as you quickly wipe your cheek, only to see the dark stain of blood smeared across your skin. Maybe he wasn’t looking at your eyes after all—maybe it was your cheek he was focused on. A wave of self-consciousness hits you as you glance down at your uniform, now caked in dirt and blood. The grime and the mess suddenly seem more obvious, and you can’t shake the feeling of being exposed, like all the weight of the day’s chaos has left its mark on you.

"Thanks..." The words barely escape your throat, soft and barely audible.

"Mr. Galliard, if you're looking to smoke, I know a place." You clear your throat, hoping the sudden awkwardness doesn’t linger.

He glances at you, then back at the ground. "Oh—uh, sure. Lead the way." His tone is a mix of surprise and something else, almost like he wasn’t expecting an offer, but couldn’t refuse it either.

You lead him into the cool evening, the air carrying a sharp bite that makes the night feel even more isolated. As you walk side by side, the silence between you both is oddly comfortable. The faint crunch of gravel beneath your boots is the only sound, and you’re acutely aware of his presence beside you—his movements casual, but you can tell he’s paying attention to the surroundings.

You guide him to the back of an old, abandoned shed, though calling it a shed feels generous. It’s little more than a crumbling wooden wall with a rusted door, barely standing against the wind. The dim light from the nearby lanterns casts long shadows, adding a sense of quiet intimacy to the moment. It’s a place hidden from prying eyes, and as you both step into the shelter, the world outside feels just a little more distant, a little more forgotten.

“Here we are, enjoy your time Mr. Galliard. Goodnight,” You pivot on your heel and head back toward the nurses' tent, hoping to find some rest or at least a brief moment of peace away from the chaos.

A calloused hand reaches out, brushing against yours. You turn back, and for a split second, you catch the blonde man’s eyes. They flicker from yours to the ground, his brows furrowing in a quiet struggle, as if debating something he can’t quite put into words. He lowers his hand slowly, almost surprised by his own gesture.

“I—uh, forget it. Goodnight,” he mutters, the words awkward and heavy, like he’s wrestling with a thought he isn’t ready to share.

His eyes linger just a little longer than necessary, betraying the quiet curiosity that seems to hang in the air between you—an unspoken desire to know more, but uncertainty keeping him at arm’s length.

You know he wanted to know. The makeshift question barrelling in your head: how did you know this place? The question feels simple yet complicated.

You smile softly at him, feeling the weight of the moment shift. Sliding down the wall, you settle onto the ground, your posture casual but inviting. You pat the spot next to you, looking up at him with a quiet, unspoken request.

"Sit with me?"

For a moment, he hesitates, eyes flicking between the empty space beside you and your face, as if debating whether to break the distance or remain standing. After a beat, he lowers himself slowly, sitting beside you without a word. Shoulders almost brushing, his body heat radiating.

You slip your hand into the pocket of your uniform, pulling out a cigarette box, the edges worn from constant use. You shake it lightly, feeling the last few sticks inside, then retrieve an almost empty lighter, the flame flickering weakly at your fingertips.

“I didn't know nurses can smoke,” He says, you can hear faint hint of a smile in his voice.

“Well, we aren't supposed to,” you reply, taking a drag and letting the smoke curl up into the air, "But I still do anyway.”

He chuckles softly. "I guess some rules are meant to be bent."

You exhale slowly, watching the smoke dissipate in the cool evening air. "Maybe. But it's not exactly the healthiest habit, either way.”

“You should tell that to Zeke.” he says, a grin creeping in.

"The head nurse has," you reply with a dry laugh, "She told him to quit, but he just keeps on going. It’s like telling a cat to stop being a cat." You take a long drag, enjoying the bite of the smoke as you watch the haze swirl around you.

Porco watches you exhale another puff of smoke, his gaze following the way the smoke curls into the air. After a moment, he pulls out his own cigarette and a lighter from his jacket, biting the tip between his lips with a small grunt of concentration. He flicks the lighter, but the flame sputters out before it can catch, the tiny spark vanishing into the cool night. He shakes the lighter impatiently, then tries again, only for it to fail once more. With a frustrated sigh, he tosses the lighter aside with a muttered curse.

“Can I borrow yours?” He points toward your lighter with a half-embarrassed look.

You nod, handing it to him. He takes it and flicks the fuse multiple times, but again, the flame refuses to appear.

"Guess no cigarette for me tonight," he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice, as he hands it back to you. "Lucky you. You've got all the fire."

You chuckle softly, slipping the lighter back into your pocket. "Maybe it’s a sign you’re not meant to smoke tonight."

He smirks, rolling his eyes. "Could be.”

“Here, I'll share mine with you. Get close”

Porco raises an eyebrow, intrigued but cautious. You bring the lit cigarette back up to your lips and position it so the glowing tip is almost exactly in line with his—just a hair's breath apart, the two cigarettes hovering close. He leans in slightly, and you both, without missing a beat, gently bring your lips together, the tips of your cigarettes now nearly touching.

For a brief, intense moment, you both exhale at the same time, the smoke mixing and swirling around you, the soft glow of the lit tips connecting in a silent, almost intimate dance. The flame transfers easily between the cigarettes, igniting his with a soft hiss. He takes a quick drag as you pull back, both of you now holding your cigarettes with your lips.

"Now that’s how you light a cigarette," you say with a grin, watching him as he exhales, a small smile creeping onto his face.

Porco chuckles, still holding the cigarette between his lips. "You’re full of surprises, huh?"

You shrug casually, the smoke trailing lazily in the air. "I like to keep things interesting."

For a moment, the world feels quieter, the shared action something unspoken, just a little closer than it probably should be. A little too intimate than it should be. You lower your hand to the ground, just a breath away from his, the space between your fingers humming with an unspoken promise. You linger there, so close that the air seems to tremble with the possibility of touch, but neither of you moves.

Porco raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he glances at your hand, hovering near his. "Careful," he says, voice low, a teasing edge to it. "You might be getting a little too close for comfort."

You hold his gaze, a small, knowing smile playing at the corner of your lips. "Comfort’s overrated," you reply, fingers barely brushing the edge of his.

His eyes flicked between you and your hand. “You're the type to make things complicated, aren't you?

You stretch your body, your spine arching gracefully as you move, the motion fluid and effortless. His gaze follows you, intent and focused, drawn to the curve of your back with an almost predatory intensity. You feel the weight of his eyes on you, but you don't falter. As you shift, your hand drifts even closer to his, the space between you shrinking with every deliberate inch. You hold his gaze, a quiet confidence in your eyes.

"Only when it's worth it," you say, your voice soft but clear, as if the words are as much a challenge as an invitation.

Porco's gaze sharpens, he takes a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling the gray smoke to the cold night sky. “Is this one of those moments?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you shift your hand a fraction closer, just enough to send a jolt of tension through the air. "Maybe," you say softly. "Maybe not."

His lips quirk upward, the challenge in his eyes clear. "You’re a tease. I kind of like it.”

The air hangs heavy with tension, thick and almost suffocating. Neither of you dares to move, as if any shift would shatter the moment. The silence between you is electric, every heartbeat magnified, the space between you pulsing with something unspoken.

“You're not going to make this easy, aren't you?” He asked, voice husky and hushed.

“Where's the fun in easy?”

"I like seeing how far I can push before things... change," you murmur, your eyes locking with his, daring him to respond.

He leans in, just a fraction, closing the distance with a teasing, almost unreadable look. "Is that what you want? To see what happens when everything shifts?”

You challenge him with a quiet smile. “Maybe I do”

Porco’s gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips, his breath catching ever so slightly. His pulse quickens, the subtle shift in his expression betraying the tension building between you both. There’s a brief hesitation, a quiet moment where it feels like time itself has paused, before his focus sharpens again, drawn in by something deeper, something he can’t quite pull away from.

“You're going to keep looking, or do something about it?” You challenged.

He chuckles softly, a low rumble vibrating between you two. “You sure you want me to?”

“You're the one getting closer.”

His hand shifts just slightly, brushing against yours, and for a split second, you think he might pull away. But then, his fingers curl around yours, slow and deliberate, the touch grounding in a way that feels more intimate than anything that’s come before.

"Guess you’re right" he murmurs, his voice barely above a breath. "Maybe I’ve already done something about it ”

You take his hand in yours, your fingers gently tracing the rough lines of his calloused skin. The touch is tender, lingering, as if you're mapping out the very contours of his hand, feeling the strength in every worn ridge.

His soft lips graze yours, a delicate touch that lingers in the air. The scent of cigarettes, faint and smoky, clings to him, but it fades as you close your eyes and melt into his kiss. In that moment, the world blurs—the chaos, the noise—everything softens, leaving just the rhythm of his breath and the warmth of his presence.

The touch of his warm hand feels like a warm lantern in the dark and cold of the night. It's a comfort, a reassurance that you never knew you needed until now. You wish for nothing more than his touch, his presence, to stay with you, to never let go. In this fleeting moment, everything else fades away, and all that matters is the warmth of his hand in yours. You never want to leave this small, perfect moment.

You pull apart first, your cheek flushed, the rush of blood making your head spin. You’ve kissed others before—men and women, but none of those kisses were like this. Not this urgent, not this brief. There’s something about it that stirs something deeper inside you. You feel shy, vulnerable, as if something sacred has just unfolded between you. His warm eyes meet yours, looking at you with such intensity that it threatens to overwhelm you. Something catches in your throat, and you blink rapidly, fighting back tears. It’s a moment you never want to forget, a fleeting piece of time you wish you could hold on to forever.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, hand caressing yours.

You swallow, steadying your breath. “I—yeah, just… I never felt like this. Its so different.”

“Different good, I hope?” He said softly, placing his forehead gently against yours.

You nodded, the closeness is making your heart race. “Yeah, different good”

He stays there for a heartbeat longer, unwilling to pull away, as if afraid the quiet connection between you might vanish the moment he does. The world around you is eerily still—too still for a soldier like him. It feels too gentle, too faint, a softness he's not accustomed to. His heart beats faster, the silence pressing in around you both.

You rest your head to his shoulder, looking at the cigarette in your hand so fondly. “It's so…quiet”

He shifts slightly, his warmth pressing against you, grounding you in the quiet. “Yeah,” he says softly, his voice almost drowned by the peace surrounding you both. “Feels strange, doesn’t it?” He takes a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke curls upwards, disappearing into the night.

“I feel like a storm is about to happen” You whispered, voice certain. The words hang in the air, as if they were supposed to happen.

He turned towards you, his expression unreadable for a moment as he studied your face. "Ugh, I hate this," He muttered, a dry humor lacing his voice. "After this hell of a storm, there's another one waiting. What a drag." He let out a short, humorless chuckle, but his face remained unreadable, the tension in his eyes betraying the joke.

“A warrior can’t catch a break, huh?” You teased, a grin playing at the edges of your lips.

“Nope,” he shot back, the word blunt, almost with a hint of amusement, as if the irony of it all wasn’t lost on him.

“Honestly, if I were a Titan Shifter, there’s no way I’d have the guts to bite my hand or slice it open to transform,” You say, chuckling at the thought of it.

He takes a drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with a grin. "You should try it, it’s a real rush." He taps the cigarette, letting the ashes fall to the ground.

You shake your head, smiling “Uh—huh, sure. ‘cause nothing says fun like turning into a giant nutcracker wrecking everything in sight.”

“It's oddly therapeutic, you should try it sometime. Nothing like the feeling of smashing stuff to really clear your head.”

The banter continues, but with each passing minute, the mood shifts. Your laughter fades, swallowed by the deeper currents of the conversation. You both sit there, the world moving around you, but the two of you remain anchored to the moment, surrounded by the haze of smoke and words that were meant to be light but now feel heavy.

Your cigarette, now little more than a smoldering nub, threatens to fall, but neither of you moves to snuff it out. It's one of those moments that doesn’t seem to need much attention, as if the world’s outside the bubble you’ve created. A bubble where jokes come easy and laughter rings free, even though neither of you could be further from truly being carefree.

You glance over at him—the man beside you, Porco Galliard. The man who has seen and done things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The man whose hands have taken countless lives for the sake of his country, soldiers who never had a chance. The man who wears the burden of the Titan Shifters curse like a second skin. And yet, despite all of that, here he is, sitting beside you, casually flicking ash from his cigarette as if this were the most normal conversation in the world.

"You think smashing things is fun?" you ask again, this time with less sarcasm, more curiosity. A genuine question.

Porco pauses, his gaze shifting toward the horizon for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is steady but edged with something darker. "I'm smashing things because of orders. It's not fun at all. It's torture.”

“You ever get tired of it?" You ask, not sure what answer you're hoping for. You expect him to laugh, to brush it off, maybe even make another joke. But instead, he seems to sink deeper into his thoughts, his gaze fixed on something distant.

“Tired? You don't get tired. You just keep going, that's all you can do. You just keep moving and hope that you're not too far gone to realize you've lost everything.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and final, but you can see it in his eyes—he knows the truth. He’s lost everything. The weight of it settles around him like a shroud, suffocating, unspoken. He still has his parents, but that’s not enough. Not without Marcel. Without Marcel, what’s left for him? The bond they shared, the brotherhood, was the one thing that tethered him to something real, something that made the endless violence and sacrifice bearable. But now, in the aftermath, it’s all gone.

You listen to Porco’s words, and for a moment, the air between you feels thick, like there’s more than just the weight of the conversation in that space. There’s something you both share now, something you never thought you’d relate to.

Your fingers brush the cold metal of the lighter in your pocket, instinctively reaching for it. You’ve held it a thousand times before, but tonight, it feels heavier than it ever has. The two wings carved into the surface—delicate and intricate—are a reminder of a place you can never go back to, a memory that’s already fading at the edges. A gift from back home. A piece of something you’ve left behind, but it doesn’t feel like a gift anymore. It feels like a weight.

Guilt surges up from somewhere deep inside you, twisting your stomach. You close your eyes for a brief second, overwhelmed by the flood of memories that rush in. Home, warmth, faces you can’t recall without pain. The weight of responsibility that was thrust upon your shoulders—too young, too unprepared, yet here you are, carrying the same heavy burden that Porco now bears, the same impossible task of surviving a world that seems to demand too much.

Your hand tightens around the lighter, but the feeling of loss doesn’t ease. It only makes the ache sharper, a reminder that you can’t go back, and you can’t undo what’s already been done.

“I have also lost some important people in my life, the people that have shaped me to be who I am now.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and for a brief moment, you almost regret saying anything at all. But there's a truth in it, something raw and real that hangs in the air between you both. The people who helped mold you, who gave you purpose, who made you feel human—those are the ones that stick with you, long after they’re gone. And it’s their absence that leaves the deepest scars.

“It’s like they’re still with you, but not really,” you add, your voice distant. “You carry them with you, but sometimes it feels like they’re just ghosts. And all you can do is try to make sense of it all, even when it doesn’t make sense anymore.”

"You know," he says after a beat, the humor in his voice gone, replaced by something more subdued, "sometimes I wonder if I'd be less of a mess if he was still around. Maybe he could’ve talked me out of some of the shit I’ve done.”

You don’t respond right away. The shift in his tone isn’t lost on you. It’s not the playful jab you’d been expecting, but something rawer, something closer to the truth than either of you had expected to share.

"You don't need him to tell you what’s right or wrong, Porco," you say softly, trying to keep the conversation grounded. "You’ve been making your own choices for a long time now. Maybe it’s time you stop leaning on ghosts to figure out what you’re doing.”

Porco’s gaze flickers toward you, a wry smile tugging at his lips, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess you’re right. But it sure would’ve been nice to have someone who actually got it. Someone who didn't treat me like a fucking weapon.”

You feel the words hit you harder than expected. "You know, you’re not just a weapon, Porco. And you’re not the only one who's ever felt like one." The words spill out before you can stop them, the quiet vulnerability in your own voice surprising even you. You didn’t expect to be the one offering comfort here, but somehow, it feels right.

Porco takes a long moment to respond, staring at the cigarette between his fingers before flicking the ash off into the night. “Yeah, well, it’s hard not to feel like one when that’s all anyone’s ever used you for.”

You don’t have an answer for that. Instead, you let the quiet settle in again, the space between you two filled with an understanding that doesn’t need words.The conversation, like everything else, eventually fades into something quieter, easier. But there’s still the lingering feeling that, despite the ghosts, despite the weight of everything that’s been said and done, you’re both still here. Still standing. Still breathing.

“Maybe one day we’ll stop letting the past haunt us so much,” you say, almost to yourself, more as a hope than a statement. "Maybe then we’ll figure out who we really are, without all the ghosts.”

Porco glances at you, that familiar smirk returning, though there’s something softer about it now. "Maybe. But I wouldn’t hold my breath."

You grin, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Yeah, well, we’ve been breathing this long, haven’t we?”

The two of you share a quiet laugh, and for a moment, the world feels a little lighter, the weight of the past suspended in the air around you. The sound of your laughter breaks the tension, and you take a deep breath, letting it all go for just a second.

You glance down at the short bud of your cigarette, finally snuffing it out on the ground, watching as the small amber glow fades.

"This has been one interesting conversation, don't you think?" you say, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Yeah, it has been," he says, his voice softening a bit. "I kinda enjoyed this..." He glances at you for a moment, his expression unexpectedly earnest, before looking down and snuffing out his own cigarette.

You yawn, the small droplets of tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. The conversation had been so engaging, so full of playful teasing and back-and-forth, that you hadn't even noticed how tired you were becoming. The words and laughter had kept you wide awake, but now, with the sudden stillness between you two, the exhaustion caught up to you all at once.

You rub your eyes, stifling another yawn, and glance at Porco. "Guess I didn’t realize how tired I was," you admit, your voice a bit slower now. "This conversation’s been so much fun, I almost forgot about sleep.”

Porco glances at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Didn’t think a conversation could wear you out," he says, his tone light but with a hint of amusement. "Guess I’m just that interesting, huh?"

You let out a soft laugh, rubbing your eyes. "I think it’s just a combination of you and how late it’s gotten.”

Feeling the drowsiness creeping in fully now. Porco watches you for a moment, his smirk replaced with something more genuine. "Take care of yourself, alright? Don’t keep your bed waiting.”

You flash him a tired smile, nodding.”I'll try, need a shower first though. See you around, Mr. Galliard.”

You pivot on your heel, heading toward the nurses' barrack, but suddenly stop, realizing you’ve forgotten something. Turning back, you casually call over your shoulder, “Oh, and if you ever need some tender, love, and care, just head to the Marley Military Hospital and ask for (Name) (Last name).” You drop your name nonchalantly, a playful glint in your eyes.

As you glance back, you catch Porco scratching the back of his neck, his ears tinged pink, a smirk tugging at his lips. He seems caught off guard, yet amused by your casual remark.

The man glanced at you one last time before walking back in the opposite direction, a strange warmth settling in his chest. There was a sense of closeness, an unspoken connection that lingered in the air. He knew he’d see you again.

As he entered the barrack and made his way to his cot, a giddy excitement bubbled up inside him, the feeling of anticipation and something more—something he couldn’t quite place, leaving him smiling to himself as he settled in for the night.

As he lay down on his cot, the blanket feeling unusually warm around him, a smile spread across his face. There was something about the way you had casually dropped your name, something about the playful teasing and the easy way you two had connected, that had stirred something inside him. It wasn’t just the usual flirtation, it felt like the start of something new, something exciting.

He turned onto his side, eyes closing, but his mind was far from the quiet darkness of the barracks. Instead, it was filled with the memory of your smile, the sound of your voice, and that small spark of warmth he couldn’t ignore.

His heart thudded with that familiar feeling like the glow of a new flame flickering to life. It was different from anything he’d felt before, but it was real. He could feel it deep in his chest, the flutter of excitement, the anticipation of what might come next.

He chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head as he finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep, his thoughts still lingering on you. He had a feeling that this new connection—this spark was only just the beginning.

Just like the cigarettes, the two of you had snuffed out the conversation, the words fading into silence. What had been a lively, playful exchange now rested quietly, the air still with the echoes of your teasing and laughter. As the both of you walked away, the moment came to an end, leaving behind a comfortable sense of finality, like the last ember of a cigarette dying out. The connection had been made, and now, it was simply a matter of waiting for the next time.

[sneak-pieck]

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆𝐶ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝑌𝑒𝑡 𝐴𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

Word count: 1366 Note: Alternate Universe where Eren decided not to reveal himself and attack during the proclamation of war,leaving the Tybur siblings with a mix of feelings and a grim realization.

Pure white snow had begun to cover the Earth long before the month of December even thought to formally arrive, causing a certain blonde haired Lord to shiver in preparation for the cold that was to envelop him and his aging bones once he stepped foot into the white paradise outside his large house. Yet had it been up to Willahelm Tybur, he’d not leave the warmth and comfort of his home ever again. Not after the insane stunt he managed to pull at the festival in Liberio. How and why he was still alive…not even he knows. The plan was well ingrained into his brain, and he was aware of the most probable outcome. He had said his goodbyes, he had made sure his heart was in the right place, he was ready to perish that very night! Yet…that never got to happen. He delivered his speech oh so full of love for this nation that wasn’t even his, he had put his entire soul into it, ready to sacrifice all he was! All he had! And yet there he was.

The man’s beautiful blue eyes had been following the rapid fall of the heavy snowflakes, lost in the beauty of the gathering, untouched mass. It was so weird…it felt as if he was seeing snow for the first time in forever-and can you blame him? The head of the Tybur household hadn’t thought he’d see another Christmas. Lost in thought however, he forgot about someone else that struggled with this sort of feeling. And only when the silhouette of his beloved sister Lara entered his field of view did the man snap back to reality. She wore what looked like a thick long coat to keep her warm,paired with gloves and boots. Was she out on her own?Of course not.

Soon enough, small figures would rush over to the woman, figures that became simple blobs of color as the window the Lord stared out from began freezing slowly.

“Lara-” He’d catch himself nearly whimpering as he stood up from his chair,turning to head towards the door. It had been a few months since that night ,a few months since they’d spoken…a few months since Lara too had been told that something big was to happen…something greater than them, greater than they could ever imagine.

Months since the woman had prepared herself for a fight- or perhaps prepared is a word one would use loosely, for Lara had no training. She’d inherited the Warhammer titan without having any thought that a day may come where she might need to use its power. To be fair, most none of the previous inheritors had any special training…after all, they simply kept the titan safe and contained. That was all they did. So being told one day that the fate of your family and perhaps the entire world will be resting on your frail and fragile shoulders…who wouldn’t break?

“Is that dad?” The voice of a young girl that was tugging on Lara’s coat soon distracted the woman from her thoughts,and for a moment her eyes lit up at the sight.”Is he really going to join us out today?” the young girl would speak again,yet she’d receive no answer.

It was indeed their father,and the man seemed to be rushing towards his sweet children and his sister…so much so that his usually pale face now stung,bright red from the cold air that cut at him. It had been so long…so long since he allowed himself to leave his office, so long since he’d felt like he was not alone or crazy for feeling the way he did. She was right there! The woman that understood, the woman that always understood. Lara,his sweet Lara, who had been by him throughout his life, his struggles,his pains.

The moment Willy reached the black haired woman, he’d not hold back. Throwing his arms around her rather small frame in order to drag her into a warm and tight embrace,the man nearly sobbed as his face now pressed against her soft coat. The cold didn’t affect him anymore,not as long as he had her. She brought him a sort of comfort that not even his wife managed to. Lara caressed his very soul like only she knew how,just by being there. Just by..being.

All it took was one moment for the Tybur siblings to stumble back and collapse into the welcoming blanket of fresh snow with a small grunt- all this causing them to burst into laughter almost immediately. So loud and joyous, it was nearly contagious. And to Willy’s children it was, they’d make it very clear by quite literally allowing themselves to fall over in the snow by their father and aunt.

From then on followed a couple of hours of family fun, with Willahelm’s wife too joining them at some point. The Tyburs would become a normal family for a short while. Building snowmen, having snowball fights and pulling each other around on a sled. Yet as time passed, the weather grew harsher,colder…more and more unforgiving. Just like the world.

“Will you two join us inside soon? The carolers might pop up any minute,and Bruno and Alois wish to hand out the cupcakes we’ve baked together.”Willy’s eldest daughter Fine would speak up, having turned to walk backwards towards the house in order to see her sweet father.

“What’cha need me for, sweetheart?”The blonde man called out,a small laugh caught in his throat…good God, he loved his children so much.

“Well, we need you to try them! We don’t know if they’re good or not,it’s our first time baking!”

“Alright alright, we’ll be in soon, I promise!”

With that, the children along with their mother would vanish into the white winter tapestry,and Willy would sigh.

What followed was a moment of silence as he and Lara sat in the cold snow,feeling their clothes grow wetter and wetter by the minute.

“I- i honestly didn’t imagine i’d see another Christmas-” He finally broke the silence, and Lara almost immediately seemed to understand. “I was pretty sure i-”

“You’d die? As if I'd let such a thing happen.”The woman let out a gentle chuckle, silencing herself rather fast. Yet her brother didn’t seem to notice. And she couldn’t blame him.

“Well, we need not worry about such things anymore. All is good. We will celebrate many things from now on,for nothing will stand in our way. We are alive. We get to live,Lara.”

“You get to live.” Lara caught herself mumbling. She did not mean to speak out loud, for the last thing she wished to do was ruin her brother’s newfound enthusiasm for life, especially on Christmas. Yet it was too late.

As if something had lit up in Willy’s mind, the man would lower his gaze with a small hum…and then a huff. “ R- right. How long uhm-”

“ I don’t remember for sure. But at most…I have one, maybe two Christmases left.” Her voice soft,low,perhaps sad. Sad, yes…for she loved her brother,and she’d not want to go…not so soon. But she had no choice, not in this matter.

“I didn’t…realize- when did the time pass-”Willy muttered quietly under his breath, not really expecting an answer. For why would he? They’d both taken their time together for granted and there was no going back. “Then…let’s make the most of what we have left,hm?” By God did he wish to be able to sound cheerful, yet as he spoke,a hot tear rolled down his freezing cold cheek…yet he’d smile.

“I love you,Lara. Let us live out whatever we have left to live…happily.”

“I love you as well,Willy. Always will.”Lara nodded along ,and soon tears welled in her dark eyes as well.

Pushing up from the ground first was Willy,and he’d help her up,smiling as he began leading his dear sister towards their house. Determined to make the most of this holiday…determined to fill the walls of their home with memories enough for a lifetime.

[danversncpd]

You're telling me she put her hair in a heart. A HEART. And y'all are laughing at her???????????

[paragonrobits]

some important calvin and hobbes facts in case you haven't read the original comic strip in a long time or only absorbed stuff on it from memes and out of context bits on here:

Calvin's last name has never been given, and neither has any of his parent's names. This was actually why his uncle Max only showed up for a brief storyline; the creator of the comic, Bill Watterson, ultimately felt that while it was fine to have him as someone for his parents to talk to, it felt far too awkward to never have Max refer to them by name and he never made a return appearance.

The general tone of the comic is fairly light-hearted, with a big emphasis on goofy slapstick comedy contrasted by clever wordplay and often surprising adult-centered jokes that'll hit you like a slap. A big part of the comedy is, as Watterson put it (paraphrased) "It's really funny to me when people express deeply stupid ideas with really fancy terminology." One notable example you might have seen is that one bit where Calvin asks his mom for money to buy a Satan-worshiping rock album and his mom replies that there's nothing genuine about them and they're just putting on the attitude for shock value, and comisserates with Calvin as he deplores that mainstream nihilism can't be trusted. He concludes that childhood is disillusioning.

There is a LOT of criticism of the extreme materialism and selfish mentality of the late 80s, when the comic was initially written. This may go a long way to explain how its aged so well; much of what it criticizes resonates well with people today.

Bill Watterson views comic strips a legitimate form of artwork, and repeatedly fought to have more space to draw more beautiful and artistic backgrounds, which was a very hard fight and unpopular even with other comic strip artists. He eventually did win some compromises and a lot of Calvin And Hobbes' artwork shows it, with the use of space to indicate time as well as a sharp contrast between the often plain environments of mundane life contrasted by the wildly beautiful imagery of Calvin's imagination (which often sports realistic depictions in an art shift of sorts).

Hobbes is explicitly not an imaginary friend, by word of Watterson himself. We don't know WHAT he is exactly, and Hobbes is apparently unaware of the strange nature of his reality; people look at him and only see an ordinary stuffed tiger plushie, but he has a tangible effect on the world that would be physically impossible for Calvin to do on his own. He's apparently been around for a while, and was apparently around when Calvin was a young baby.

On that note; Hobbes has implicitly killed (notably treated as both a gag and also with the vibe of 'he's a tiger, duh') and while he doesn't do it again on-screen, he doesn't have any moral issues about it. Calvin claims that he's never had trouble bringing Hobbes to school because the last time he did, Hobbes killed and ate a bully named Tommy Chestnut and simply comments that it was gross and he needed a bath. Calvin's tried to repeat this again, but Hobbes was grossed out at the thought having to eat a kid raw and not being allowed to use an oven first, or complaining that children are too fattening.

Hobbes became gradually less human-like in body language and more like an actual cat in both body language and behavior; this was due to Watterson drawing more inspiration from his cat, who also inspired a lot of Hobbes' running gags, such as pouncing on Calvin when he got home. Several years into the syndication of the strip, Watterson's cat passed away, and he did a tribute to her with a comic strip of the two of them agreeing to try to dream together so they can keep playing when they have to sleep; Watterson's commentary (if I recall right), remarks on his cat: "We can see each other again in dreams."

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 8TH ★ MONSTER FUCKING - katsuki bakugou .ᐟ

[CHAPTER EIGHT BEAUTY & THE BEAST] katsuki bakugou as the beast + monster fucking. once upon a time, a village girl thinks to herself — fuck it! being trapped inside a castle with a monstrous sexy bloody beast isn’t so bad… she might as well make it worth her while ( 10.3K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, beauty & the beast!au, enemies to lovers, bath sex, soft sex, cum play, blood play, size kink, praise kink, body worship, pussy jobs, body modifications, tummy bulges, premature orgasms, marking, biting, belle + fem!reader, beast!katsuki bakugou.

✧ fairy godmother's note - hello, time for our second kinktober fic yippieee!! i think this is my second time doing bakugou and monster fucking...he's just perfect for it!! anyways, enjoy my loves! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

the beast wasn’t all that bad. 

at least, not compared to most people back home. 

in the village, beyond the forest’s edge and hidden by evergreen foliage — the townsfolk believe you to be as beautiful as the world around you. eyes as bright as the golden sun rising over a hilly horizon. skin as soft as the flesh of fresh fruits hanging low from the trees. a voice that compliments that of early morning birds — gentle, kind. you’re the perfect vision. a perfect person. except for your one fatal flaw. 

you have your wits about you. it makes you strange. 

the people of your village think you were peculiar for having the tip of your nose poked into the spine of of a book each and every day. it’s not your fault that you enjoy the scent of their pages or that you find every story so alluring that you could read it over once or twice (and sometimes thrice). the people back home were unnerved by your intelligence — staring at you sideways if you daydreamed for a little too long (wishing for a life outside of your tiny province, one  full of adventure) or sending you concerned stares if you stumbled over your steps while reading.

it didn’t help that your papa was a whimsical inventor — his intricate machines that coughed and spluttered a little too loudly and left him covered in soot were often the talk of the town, worsening the whispers. despite the cruel opinions of others, papa’s love for you never faltered, all the while promising you that his prized tools would get you out of town, away from the people who called you odd and strange —  they thought him just as crazy as you. like father like daughter, you suppose.

then there was shindou. the most sought after bachelor in all of town and quite possibly the worst part about your old life. your life before the beast. the man was handsome, that much was true — his eyes and hair an inky black that would draw anyone in like a misty night. features, chiselled and strength obvious. shindou was pretty, eye candy without an ounce of brains. conversation with him felt like watching paint dry, he spoke so highly of himself you often wondered how his head hadn’t imploded from getting so big. for some reason, he was hellbent on making you his wife. not because you were smart, or liked to read and explore, but because to him… you were a pretty prize to be treasured.

so, when you stumbled upon the beast’s castle that night and gave up your freedom in exchange for your father’s, you hadn’t realised how lucky you were to be away from yo shindou and his crew. the village too. still, that didn’t take away from the harsh reality of your new prison. an enchanted castle, enclosing you in with the mangy beast. 

in strange ways, as strange as your mind, you found in your heart to feel sympathy for the beast, or bakugou as you’d come to know him. for many years he’d been cursed with a form cruel to the human eye — shaggy blonde fur, wild and blood red eyes and horns that were comparable to the devils. his selfish nature and a spell from hundreds of years ago had not been kind to the creature. from the sounds of things ( stories from the seemingly…alive…furniture existing within the walls of his withering home ) bakugou had failed to show concern or care in his youth, by taking a rose from a haggard old woman in exchange for a night’s worth of shelter. in return, she cursed him with the looks of a beast until he could find true love. 

his staff ( the furniture ) had told you of his crumbling hope and damaged heart. it still didn't excuse his odd behaviour — where the princely beast told rather than asked, scratched and smashed rather than communicated. he was much angrier than the other inhuman inhabitants of the enchanted castle. though…sometimes you noticed a tenderness swirling between the brown flecks within katsuki’s vermillion eyes, rich with a longing for affection that filled you with warmth whenever you caught him staring at you reading in the library he’d set up just for you or when he’d take you outside to feed the birds in the snow together. 

other times, katsuki could be somewhat…charming. since arriving, you could tell that he was doing his best to become a gentleman who toned down his anger. he fiddled with cutlery too small for his claws during meals with you just to be polite — denying his blush with a petulant pout whenever he was caught. he tried not to stare too long or at the wrong places whenever you spoke and spent time together. he wasn’t like shindou, who drooled over you like you were a piece of meat fresh from a roast. 

for a long time, you all but wished to find someone who understood you — who’d nurture your mind and the wind beneath your wings rather than see you as a prized pet bird to be kept in a cage. and over time, you had naively began to believe that katsuki, the beast, might have been the only person in this whole world to see you exactly the way you wanted to be seen. the hope that you had met your match flickered like a small candle’s flame in your heart — it reflected as a small glint of light in katsuki’s once exhausted, pessimistic eyes. you thought, day by day, that you could be happy here. with the beast. in place of your village back home.

just when you thought katsuki was changing, that maybe you could be happy here with the beast — you’re thrown back into a reality you had tried so hard not to face. katsuki is a beast, a cruel monster keeping you a prisoner in his home. you are not a friend who has free roam over his castle or free will under his rein, you’re reminded that you’re his captive in exchange for your father’s remaining life. your wake up call comes in the form of an argument, the result of stumbling across the forbidden east wing and a rose petal that wilts so pretty in the centre of an abandoned room. 

“i thought i fuckin told you never to come in here!” you could see it in his frenzied eyes, how the trust you’d built up with the beast so quickly came tumbling down. you’d crossed a line and an unspoken rule and no matter how many times the word sorry poured from between your plush lips — bakugou the beast was far beyond the point of forgiveness. he couldn’t trust you, and you couldn’t trust him. “leave!” he’d bellowed, snarled like a warning sign. 

katsuki had lashed out at you in a way you’d never seen before. like a wild animal backed into a corner. he’d shown you fangs and growled at you in a noise you know for sure humans don’t make. “get the fuck out!” he roared until you were trembling, throwing whatever he could get his clawed hands on whilst  splintering wood and shattering porcelain. 

you’d done just that, dashing down flights of stairs in terror while throwing your cape on. 

the inhabitants, his little candleholder sero and tiny clock denki along with the others, had tried to stop you. begging you not to face the cold bitter night alone on your horse but your judgement was far too clouded by your emotions — the hurt and betrayed wounds inflicted by the beast who’s trust you thought you had earned. the snowstorm outside rages with your unstable state, how could he scream at you like that? how could he say those awful things? it��s not long before you’re lost the ice cold and the daunting wolves that assume you’re a prey item like a vulnerable deer instead of a young girl with bambi eyes. 

viscous, wild, teeth and tongue snap at your horse — threatening to wound you both and draw blood. the animal that you ride, in turn, throws you to the ground in favour of its own escape. 

you can’t even blame the poor creature, only fools risk their lives to be at the mercy of a beast.

yet, your beast, your bakugou moved without thinking to save you from a bitter end. you recognise his growls before you see him — and before you know it the limp bodies of wolves that attacked you go flying over your head. their own howls and growls turn to pathetic puppy whimpers as bakugou fights them off, tooth and nail. fighting with all his might to protect you from getting your throat torn out. even if he’d frightened you, screamed at you and broken your trust — he wasn’t about to lose you to a brutish winter and a pack of hungry wolves. the blonde creature fights until his burly body is done and his claws are tainted with the blood of his enemies — wearily looking for you, checking you for wounds in such a gentle way you’re surprised out of your skin. heart racing.

you’ve never seen katsuki look at you that way, as  though he was just as terrified of you dying as you were at the thought dying yourself. its not long before his adrenaline wears off and the wounds he’d gotten from his battle finally take their toll on him.

it gives you the chance to run. to escape. to be home with your father. 

but what would be waiting for you at the other end? a marriage to a man with half a brain and six children to fill the void. people who thought you mad and crazy? you’d made a promise to stay with him, for your father’s life. there was no other choice but to lug bakugou back to his castle using all of your might. to help him. to save him. not because you wanted to, but because you had to. 

at least that’s what you’d told yourself as a way of pretending not not to care for him.

piping hot water sloshes around in the pearlescent tub, fit only for royalty. it’s taken you some time to fill it up to full volume with the help of some of the castles staff… or inanimate objects. momo the sweet little tea pot had been working overtime to boil fresh batches until the water level was high enough for the beast. you’re sure that her stout had nearly given out, but for her master, she’d pushed on. her dedication, all of their dedication (the candleholder, the little clock, the pots and pans and foot rests and dusters) make you wonder what had truly become of this place, a crumbling castle so dark and gloomy that it was left for ruin.

was the beast really worth all of this trouble for all of them to stay by his side and endure his foul demeanour?  

then again, why were you also tending to the beast? it’s not as if you enjoyed his company, yet you stay, drawing this bath to help tend to his wounds. the wounds he had gotten as a result of protecting you. 

you spare him your gaze once the bellowing creature ( now unusually quiet ) enters the room; no longer tailed by his animated inanimate servants — nothing but a roll of steam and a wall of silence separating the two of you now. though it’s hard not to look at how well he’s built beneath patches of straw blonde fur. 

katsuki’s arms are burly and toned, his chest is well sculpted as if carved from the very same stone that makes up the beautiful interior of his castle, whilst the angle of the beast’s face is strong, handsome. you wonder what he may look like completely human, if his jaw would still be sharp enough to cut through marble and diamonds. if his eyes would be narrowed and fiery, swirling with the riches of ruby gems. it takes all your willpower to tear your secretive stare away from him while he undresses in front of you, as though you’re not even there, heat growing rapidly in the middle of your face like the epicentre of an earthquake.

water sloshes violently as his hulking frame sinks into the bath, tinging it an ink stain of rosey pink from where it warmly laps over his open wounds — the sound of water hitting the smooth stone floor lets you know that you can turn around to tend to him. you keep your gaze lowered and mindful as you work, wringing a soft linen cloth in a clearer pot of the liquid mixed with rubbing alcohol. “h-hey, don’t do that,” you scold gently, lips falling into an unimpressed frown as the beast moves to lick at his cuts and scratches. bakugou pauses and squints at you menacingly while you reach for the same soggy paw he’d been tending to. you’d laugh if he weren’t so wounded and you weren’t so scared — he looked like a kitten. “i need to clean them properly.” 

an ignorant scoff from the blonde tangles with the soapy steam in the air, only earns him a roll of your eyes and a frustrated glare — his head angling itself away from you because he doesn’t want to give in and admit that your call of action would be right. you find it childish that he would ignore you but take to dabbing the first bleeder that you find with your alcohol soaked cloth, ensuring that it’s completely clean. the stinging sensation at the opening of the wound causes katsuki to roar at you in pain, baring the sharp edge of his teeth as if to threaten you with them.

you jump back, knowing that one wrong move could have you torn up by vicious claws and teeth. “just hold still!” you snap, raising your hands out of the way. “stop being such a baby and let me help you!”

“that fucking hurts, watch it.” he spits hotly, nostrils flared in annoyance. 

beginning to shake from a mix of anger and fear, you throw the bloodied cloth in your hand to the edge of the tub. the beast doesn’t look at you and your own temper flares. your face scrunches furiously and a cool snarl lays on the tip of your tongue — your own way of trying to put out the flames before they end in a disastrous blow out. 

“if you’d just kept still it wouldn’t hurt so much!”

crimson roses bloom on the surface of the water and bakugou whirls around sharply, both of your chests rising and falling at the impending explosion threatening to blow smoke into the crowded bathroom. “well, if you hadn’t have run away ‘nd straight into a shitty wolf’s den, then this wouldn’t have fucking happened!” he growls back with the air of a petulant child. 

“well you hadn’t fucking frightened me, i wouldn’t have run away!” your petty mouth surprises bakugou, you almost seem too pretty to curse — from the moment you’d first arrived at the cursed castle; your beauty had been a breath of fresh hair, hope for a brighter future on the horizon but since being cursed, any charm the beast… the prince might have had wore away over the years. leaving a husk of the man he once was, you have him stumped and spluttering for words, causing his staff behind the closed door to laugh.

an argument, though childish and silly, brews between you both like a storm coming from over a hill. neither of you dare to back down, not caring if you leave deeper and more emotional wounds on one another. katsuki doesn’t know how people work and you’re exhausted, missing home — the pair of you a ticking time bomb of disaster waiting to happen. “well… well, y’shouldn’t have been goin’ through my shit in the west wing!” bakugou reacts before he thinks, wet talons grabbing onto the crisp front of your shirt as he leers down, a gnarly growl clawing its way out of his throat to match the nasty sneer on his snout and lips. “i warned ya, shit happens when you don’t listen.” 

at the end of your tether, you forcefully push the herculean tyrannical beast back into the tub — using a surprising amount of might to fully submerge him in the hot water once more. “well you should learn to stop being such a stubborn brat and control your temper!” you’re hardly thinking rationally at this point, sick and tired of letting him think he can bully you into silence and submission… just because he’s big and has claws and sharp teeth that could rip meat from a live carcass. 

you move to shove him again but bakugou acts just as quickly — using his existing grip on you to yank you further into his bath. in a struggle and with a surprised scream that overlays his frustrated growling, you collapse against his furry chest and settle into his lap as water sloshes forcefully about the place and soaks through your dress — weighing down its fabric and slowing your movements. after a few minutes of wet wrestling; katsuki either gives up because of the pain caused by his cuts or refuses to fight you anymore — fully aware of what his size in comparison could do to you.

he slumps deeper into the tub, brooding, and an unbearable tension mounts in the air around you. the position has brought you face to face, breath mingling in the pocket of space and time between you both — above him, staggered forward, with your arms either side of his head for stability, katsuki feels that you’re close enough for him to reach out and just brush a thumb over the swell of your plush lips… gently grasp at your chin and maybe give you a kiss. he doesn’t know when he started feeling this way towards you or why he lashes out at you in place of sharing his true emotions but the beast casts his ruby framed gaze to the side, avoiding entering the possibility of making you uncomfortable.

after a moment, any anger that either or you shared fizzles away like a sparkler doused in a bucket of icy water. shame replaces the fire in your veins and you quickly distract yourself from less than proper thoughts of the beast by get back to work on the bleeders in his arms. “n-now hold still…” you tell him, swallowing thickly which undermines the authority in your voice. “it’s going to sting… so please, let me help you.” your voice falls into a tender whisper as you resume dabbing at his injuries with the rag.

bakugou snarls barks roughly while you clean him  up but soon relaxes into the water, comforted by your soft vanilla scent and the warmth of your thighs around your waist to keep yourself steady. now that he’s no longer directing his anger at you, the atmosphere dissipates into something more affectionate, hearts beating in calm sync — you sitting on his lap looking so pretty while the lukewarm water carves out the shape of your body beneath wet clothes. 

“by the way, thank you for saving my life back there.” 

“you’re welcome,” eyes closing, bakugou lets out a shuddered breath, his voice thick with gravel and bidy fidgety beneath your own. despite the cooler water surrounding you both, the temperature in the room rises like a solar flair — especially when your proximity increases so that you can dab up to the gashes stretching across his handsome fully face. when your eyes meet again, admist the work, the blonde is overcome with the urge to kiss you. he surges forward and presses your foreheads together, a large marred and hand encasing the swell of you thigh to pin you to his lap. the movement is rough, disturbing the peaceful bath water but the kiss he gives you is careful and cautious — slightly chapped lips swooping upwards to catch yours in a cute chaste kiss. 

you jump at the sudden contact, your entire body tingling with release and an excitable heat flashes through you at the brief sensation. you taste the blood in his mouth and salt on his tongue but before you can fully enjoy the moment —  katsuki is gone as quickly as he came. leaning back into the tub with a flushed face. 

it’s like your body misses him when he’s gone; despite never having him like this before. “wait… wait,” desperate whispers pour from between your subtly glossed lips and your bath water soaked hands come up to cup the fluffy edges to his face. “kiss me. kiss me again, katsuki,” 

surprised by the lack of rejection; bakugou’s talons sink further into the doughiest part of your thighs torn between obliging your request and keeping you far, far away from him. no one has ever wanted something like that… like a kiss, from him of all people. a horrid, ugly and undeserving beast. and yet, you borderline beg above him, hardly distracting from the wet glint in your eyes. you want this. want him. “are you… are you sure?” he tries to ask you, preening into your dainty fingers as they comb back his wet fur. 

“i’m sure,” you hum against him, wanting. “please. it’s what i want.” 

for a moment; it doesn’t seem like katsuki s going to budge. you sense his hesitancy, some kind of mental block that makes him hold back even as he leans in haltingly and noses over your Cupid’s bow. it’s like he’s testing his own confidence and your patience wears thin — so you open your mouth to plead, to encourage him only for the blonde beast  to delve deep into the yearning hotness of your mouth. his lips move against yours with a feverish air, unleashing hundreds of years of pent up emotion and revealing just how touch starved he must have been all this time.

from what you can tell, the beast has been alone for a long rime — shunned for his looks and the cool ice cage around his heart. you’re not sure if you care about any of that, not right now, at least. for your body wins the war over your mind and heart, all worked up by the mash of teeth and tongue that from the basis of your kisses. he gives you what you asked for, long and thick tongue pressing into every unexplored crevice of your eager mouth — starting an itch in your lower belly that you know only bakugou would be able to reach. 

having the beast like this, hungry for passion, wandering claws and sharp edged teeth nipping at your lips makes you needier and needier. you sigh dreamily into the sloppy lip locks, losing all control and pushing your hips down against katsuki. rubbing your thighs together over his wide lap is no easy feat, but you try, dying to alleviate the ache brought on by toothy kisses and the possessive sounds he makes when you try to pull away for air. he grunts gluttorally when your clothed cunt accidentally brushes against his impressive bare girth — the only thing separating your sexes being the water logged gusset of your panties, linen and pure white in colour.

you can practically feel his cock twitch beneath your legs as you straddle the beast, peaking out through his golden fur and hardening by the minute. his size should be intimidating to you, just half hard and he’s practically the length of half your arm, even if you were to give it some thought … you’re far too distracted. mind far too hazy — katsuki tearing away from your kiss to stamp a frenzied pathway up your neck and marking it with his claim. the action proves to you that his bark indeed matches his bite when he wants it too, vicious red eyes mapping their way over the unmarked parts of your skin — licking and sucking bruises just beneath the surface that’ll be obvious to the staff in the morning. tender to the touch later on as well.

he doesn’t leave you in pain for too long, lapping over the inflamed areas with his heavy wet tong — a paw reaching out of the bath to settle on the back of your head so he can further relish in the way you weakly hang over him. “so soft….so delicate,” bakugou curiously seeks out more spots along the column of your throat to see which ones make you tick and sigh for him prettily, your warm, wet pussy reacting to his quiet raspy tone and clenching around the water in the tub. with shaky hands, you weave your digits into the roots of golden honey fur in an attempt to bring his mouth back to yours. dying to taste the beast yet again.

you want more. you want to go further. perhaps it’s the adrenaline from having almost lost your life earlier on in the night or maybe you just want to find some sick way to thank the creature that saved it. but all you know, is that you want the beast — right down to your very core. you whimper in frustration and your pulsating pussy rolls smoothly over the beast’s swelling erection floating in the bath water, it’s not enough to satisfy you when you’re burning for his tender touch this bad. “please,” you coo airly, head tilting where katsuki kisses the point at which your neck meets your jaw, tongue dragging over your pulse point. “please give me more of you.” 

it’s a big ask, you know. to ask katsuki to be vulnerable with you when you’ve just been at each other’s throats. but you’ve always wanted to know him, from the moment he decided to keep you here in his castle — you’ve wanted to know who he really is behind the fangs, claws and fur. what better time than to ask him now, when you’re grinding against him in a bathtub that barely fits him and dwarfs you by contrast. “why?” bakugou murmurs softly; his fur tacking to your wet skin.

“because… i know you want me too. i-i want to give myself to you.” you huff, shivering at the tenderness in his voice which differs to the black claws that rake up and down your inner thighs, sneaking past the hem of your damp skirts to the scalloped edge of your underwear. 

your hands still track their way through his sun kissed fur, lifting his head from your chest to have him look at you. his vermillion eyes drink in every inch of your darling face, puffy lips and doe eyes that glisten under the flickering candle light in the regal bathroom. fucking hell, you were right. he wanted you. ‘course he did. 

“if that’s what you wish…” bakugou’s chest rumbles as he speaks before capturing your lips in a chaste kiss, earning warm pools of your slick through your panties, right against his hard cock. he secures his hold on you and shifts to lift you both from the tub — presumably to continue this in his chambers as you grind and grab at him.

however, you tug harshly enough on his fur to make him falter — droplets of water splattering from his silky coat to the tub when he freezes in place (half out of the tub). “w-wait!” shaking your head, you push him back down into the water. “you’re still hurt a-and shouldn’t exert yourself. stay… let me say thank you and take care of the rest,” a beat of silence echoes throughout the room, katsuki unresponsive to your offer. self doubt invades the cave of your skull over your brain, perhaps stopping him had given him time to think this through and regret. perhaps he was caught up in the moment and the beast truly did not want you. you can’t tell, you haven’t been able to read him thus far. his fold demeanour being all that you know. “u-unless i misread this and have pushed past your limits. in which case i’m extremely sorry—“

steeling yourself and putting on a polite smile, you prepare for the worst — pushing yourself from bakugou’s lap in the face of silent rejection. yet, as you turn to leave, a clawed hand darts out to grip your waste and forcefully shakes water from the bathtub. the action keeps you cemented and spread over bakugou’s naked, wide lap and his expression morphs into that of kicked puppy, as though he regrets what he’s done to you already. or not responding to you sooner. 

hesitancy occupies the electrified air, dancing in a confusing concoction with the desire that once buzzed through it. 

“it’s not that i no longer want you or want this,” the blonde admits gruffly, keeping his eyes on the waves in the water and toying with a loose thread of your sodden skirts. “i haven’t been… kind to you since the start of your stay. i don’t even know if i fuckin’ deserve to have you like this,” in spite of holding back, katsuki’s lungs burn with brightly coloured lust and affection, in shades of fiery red and sunset orange. the steam taking residence in the tiled room trapping you both in the unmistakable heat of desire. “i want you. i do. but ‘m havin’ a hard time believing’ that you want the same. i don’t deserve it. i’m hideous.” 

“that’s not true,” you tell him earnestly, cradling his furry wet face between your pruning fingers in an attempt to reassure him. even though he’s at his most vulnerable, your heart flutters against your ribcage at katsuki’s honesty — the beast finally opening up to you. if that doesn’t fan the flames of your desperation for him, then nothing else will. “you’re not to me, bakugou… and if it’s my words you don’t believe, then let me show you. let me help you understand.”

silence resumes as you let your words sink in, hoping that at least one of them has touched the beast’s heart as he has done with yours. 

and all it takes is one small nod from katsuki to know that you have — forcing your way into his mouth ( with his consent ) once more, tongue twisting with the pink of his own and uncovering the taste of bloody wolf against his teeth from earlier. the kiss is even more passionate than before, the both of you letting go of your inhibitions, swapping spit while your hands slip from the fur atop his head to run over the softer parts of his body. massaging and mapping out his strong pecs and beefy arms, appreciating every inch of the blonde beast so he never doubts your yearning for him again. 

the grinding resumes too, especially as katsuki’s affection-starved body grows used to your debauched touch and hungry kisses — head hitting the very end of the bathtub with a dull thud, sending water over its edge and to your right. you both move with more vigour, the blonde becoming more comfortable in matching your pace and thrusting upwards when you buck down. oxygen evacuates your brain, making room for the inexperienced creature below you every time the heavy, solid length of his cock drags slowly over your increasingly throbbing clit hidden behind panties drenched in both water and fresh waves of arousal. 

even with his sprouting confidence and belief that you crave him as much as he does you — the beast moves too slow for your liking, leaving it up to you to take matters into your own hands. quite literally scrambling into the depths of the water to shred off your panties keeping you away from smothering  bakugou’s monsterous cock with your silken slit. 

his length bobs upright in the water, slapping against his fluffy tummy while is bright red tip breaches the surface — shiny from evidence of his arousal. the pair of you share a hungry moan at the sight, a glossy white smearing over blonde fur, katsuki hard and heavy. he’s unlike any man you’ve ever seen, ribbed entirely along his shaft with balls that hang extremely low and full of seed. despite feeling his size against you before, your mouth falls open in slight shock at the sight, instantly watering — katsuki’s dick could be mistaken for a third leg, chubby and a mushroomed at the tip. you’ve never had a partner so big before.

a tapered whimper, so quiet that you almost miss it, bubbles on the seams of bakugou’s lips as he bites them with his pointed animalistic teeth. “keep starin’ at me like that ‘n i don’t know what i’ll do.” he warns huskily, throat bobbing beneath the sandy fur at his neck. “s’been a while… and i know it’s not like the humans you’re used to. it’s…big. so i understand if you don’t want to…”

“it’s perfect.” you purr lowly and cut him off, the sound rivalling that of the beast’s, leaning forward to spit on his sore red tip as it oozes precum and lewdly rubbing your palm over his cockhead and shaft to spread the lubricating mix all over him, letting it mingle in the water. “you’re perfect. i can’t wait to take you, make it fit. i want to be the one about to make you feel good after so long.” 

a strangled howl forms deep within his chest at your admission — his extremely large body palpitating wholly as you take the entire weight of his cock into your dwarfed hand, barely able to fit all of your fingers around him. you feel for the prominent vein in the underside of his shaft, pressing down on it while your remaining fingertips toy with the sensitive ridges and bumps that decorate him. 

when you look up at bakugou the beast with beautiful, big eyes he feels like he could die here. happily. in beast form and all. he could never be human again or break his curse and he’d be content to have you looking up at him like this, with his huge  cock in your tiny hand, be the last thing the blonde ever sees. “fuck,” he snarls tip bleeding hot arousal over your knuckles and into the tub, knees shifting apart to give you more room — sending water flying out of the bath. 

you inch forward again, breathing warmly against katsuki’s damp lips as he begins to weaken beneath you with every pump of his dick. “i can’t wait to see how you feel, i’m going to get myself ready for you. is that okay?” you check with him, even though his mane is tousled about with how fast he’s nodding. whispering faint pleads against your wet Cupid’s bow. 

“please… just hurry it up,” katsuki lets his temper flare briefly, almost as hot as the water that soaks his fur and your clothes. lukewarm at best. he rambles for the most part, brainlessly even. lackadaisically rutting  into the pathetic small circle your little fist barely makes around him — the force of his hips causing water to splash up against your dress. “‘m ready for it…” he adds begrudgingly. 

the sight of the beast’s submissiveness and desperation brings a smile to your cherry bitten lips, clit throbbing and cunt quivering around the water you sit in. “i’ve got you, don’t worry…” assuring him gently, your mouth hangs open and follows the sweet howl uttered from your partner’s lips — its volume just above the explicit, wettish sounds of your hand jerking off the entirety of his shaft. even though you don’t want to, you only slightly let up on the pace of your palm smoothly gliding in and out of the water ( around katsuki ) to pull him towards your bare pussy.

his hips canter and chase your heavenly grip, fat droplets of his precum flying about the place and into the tub from just how much the beast is leaking. bakugou feels his mind sink into a hazy fog when you lift your hips to hover over his girth, the fuzziness shrouding his brain showing on his muzzle and handsome face. bliss lines his vermillion framed eyes, those same eyes that flutter shut in anticipation. waiting for you to put your honeyed pussy on him and make him yours.

katsuki can’t contain the feverish pants that escape him when you guide his clawed paws to hold your hips and help lower you onto him. the closer your heated core gets to his seedy cock, the harder it becomes to breathe and the humid he exhales starts to mingle with your own. 

both of you hiss pitifully in unison at the first tap of the blonde’s monsterous cock against your sticky, needy mound. your aching clit instantly catches on the ridges of his dick deliciously, causing you to crumple against the beast’s marshy furry chest — gripping onto locks of gold around his neck to ground yourself, bring yourself back down from an immense and otherworldly jolt of pleasure that bounces from the tail end of your spine to the top of your skull. you feel as though your brain has been knocked about, bakugou languidly thrusting upwards to drag his length through sluice, puffy folds and grind against your clit — clearly seeking the heat of your pulsating sex. 

“s-so good, katsuki,” a sheen of sweat condescends against your skin, glazing you in a pearlescent shine while you throw your hips back and forth over the blonde’s fat dick. he’s in no better state than you, talons sinking into the peachy flesh to cope with the way you move feverishly above him. sweat beads at his hairline, murderous ruby eyes growing heavy and kisses and god, you think he looks so perfect like this. when his remorseless resolve comes crashing down and he takes everything that you have to offer. “think you’re so beautiful,” 

rose pink tinges hotly at his cheeks while he shakes his head — denying your praise. ropes of saliva forming connections between his sharp white teeth and his strawberry tongue while he tosses his head back at your praise, letting out a stream of enchanting moans. katsuki’s adam’s apple bobs between small whispers of ‘fuck’ and ‘please’ punctuated by the slap of water hitting the floor from your sinfully synced bodies. he doesn’t let up on buck of his hips to meet your sodden sex, your puffy folds spread perfectly either side of the meat or his shaft — allowing your arousal pearling pleasure bud to graze his cockhead rhythmically. causing both of you to quiver in ecstasy.

“‘m not,” the beast denies, drawing his hips far back until they meet the bottom of the tub before jutting forward — his entire length slipping through your soaked pussy lips until his breeders balls tap at your hole. “g-god… think you’re gonna make me cum…g-gonna make me…fuuuck!” he chants, eyes snapping open to capture your gaze.

the tail end of his words form a soft symphony of whines and animalistic chirps, like music to your ears. “i want you to cum, you’d be so pretty cumming against me, katsuki…” you continue to taunt him, following his movement by cheekily driving your fluttering entrance down against his bulbous cockhead — trembling at its thick diameter. you still have no idea how it’ll fit. “give it to me.”

you take his massive paw in your tiny hand, hooking his claw onto the bosom of your dress with trusting eyes. the sound of wet material ripping echoes about the bathroom, the blond having torn right through the damp front of what you wear. you slump forward next, pebbled nipples brushing pleasurably over katauki’s fluffy toned chest. his fur is slick and clings to the water droplets on your glistening skin — especially with your bodies submerged under the lukewarm water. 

“you… y’don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” bakugou slurs deeply, grinding the tip of his dick against the ring of muscle at your entrance as you glaze his painfully with sweet the honey nectar dripping from your cunt. he’s so close he can practically taste it, all he needs is one little push. so you take his hand, leading him into a mistified fog of love and lust — reaching up, you drag a tender finger over the dark black horns that spiral from between roots of sun kissed blonde hair and fur, revelling in the way katsuki’s breath hitches. “d-don’t… they’re fuckin’ sensitive…”

all you do is hum in response, practically pressing your chest to the beast’s face as you learn further up and teasingly drag the length of your tongue over one scaled black appendage, taking the second horn between your wet, pruney fingers to jerk it like you would his cock. “they feel good when i touch them?” there’s a certain husk to your voice that puts the man on edge beneath you, colourful language littering his tongue, spurts of precum clinging to the insides of your folds. “what if i…?”

your hot, warm mouth encapsulates the very tip of his horn and your cheeks hollow out so that you have the room to suck him down your throat — mindful of its jagged surface. you feel so full and in all the best ways, the thickness of his horn causing a swell in your throat. his bright red tip, feverishly leaking precum, just barely bullying its way past the tight ring of your entrance, tapping against your sticky pussy even under water. you’re drooling from every hole, every place that you could possibly be fucked in and it’s all for him — willingly sucking him down… its for him.

“fuckin’ hell… sweetness, please. when ya touch me like that ‘m gonna—“ that's what makes you swallow around the beast as his sensitive horn presses against your uvula, spit pouring out against it. 

even as his eyes disappear into his dark skull at the feeling , katsuki drools over you as though you’re a prime cut of meat — a claw drifting up from the fat at your waist to the now naked and pliant mounds of flesh at your chest. he squeezes your breasts tightly in his monstrous palm, each point of each claw digging into your skin until electric dopamine crackles quickly across your synapses — dizzying your brain and ability to function. his grip is so sinfully tight that it’s enough to draw blood, crimson rose petals inking their way between the valley of your breasts and blowing on the surface of the water filling in the tub.  

you don’t stop kissing and sucking on his horn — tasting the ash between each scale, like firewood. he doesn’t stop rutting against your sex, sloshing sounds fluttering through the air. it’s your moan around him that sets the beast off, choked and spluttered; the sweet symphony guiding bakugou through the rough terrains of his high like he’d done so for you outside. static erupts over his brain and numbs all four of his limbs while a white as bright as the evening’s snowfall flashes behind hazy red eyes. his blonde head of hair drops weightily to your damp shoulder; hips stumbling against your cunt, as thick ropes of his early release hit your clit underwater.

with a prideful your lips pull off of his horn, listening happily to his washy, uneven mewls. even though he hadn’t been ready to cum just yet, it was by no means a small orgasm. katsuki’s load is heavy, still coming in hot, viscous waves as you suddenly slip down on his throbbing shaft — using the mix of water and orgasm as lube to help you with his size. “t-takin’ me all at once… still cummin’,” bakugou gasps like a fish out of water, pupils blown wide as the black in his eye eclipses the red. “you gotta be careful… ‘m big, sweetness. don’t wanna hurt you.” 

katsuki bakugou, the beast, is perfect. you know that now, whether it’s because your brain is fucked up with sex crazed hormones or because you genuinely do care for him deep down. either way, you think that he’s perfect, and you want him every way. his cock stretching your tight heat has you delirious, you think the burn of his size might even kill you as it pulses in your lower belly.  

“w-what makes you think you might hurt me?” you drawl and your sopping walls accept every inch of him with ease, reminding him of how lucky he is to have you. to be able to fuck you. it’s almost as if you’re made specifically for the beast — wandering into his castle with intention. not just for your father. 

there’ll never be another beauty like you and he’ll never be able to let you go after this. 

you ooze viscous nectar against katsuki, blossoming for him like a flower made for the coldest of winters while he presses into you — deeper and deeper. until you’re pelvis to pelvis in the warm tub. “‘cause...you’re so small compared to me, sweetness,” he explains over the lump in his throat — a growl escaping from behind his larger, menacing set of teeth. “such a fuckin’ dainty…pretty… little thing. fuck… if we do this i ain’t sure i’ll be able to hold back.”

lowering your hips and clenching hard, you lock the blonde into your heat selfishly, even though your legs are about to give out and you feel faint from taking the entirety of him in one go. “but that shouldn’t stop you from having your way with me, beast.” you murmur. “i don’t want you to hold back. you’re perfect and i want you just the way you are,” taking his paw in your palm, you draw it back to the claw marks struck lovingly against your chest — letting him feel the strong beat of your heart between your breasts. “my heart is racing, bakugou,” you croon and nuzzle your nose against his cutely, earning a light purr from the man beneath you. “i think… i think you make me feel this way.” your heart has never fluttered for someone like this before, not for yo shindou or any other man back home. you feel so small and safe with katsuki, even if he seems scary on the outside — you know that he’s tender and always means well.

that’s all the permission katsuki needs, really. hearing you tell him that you want him, even if it’s in his most carnal and instinctive way, is the same as hearing the magic word to him. with revitalised motivation, the blonde beast plants his feet against the smooth base of the tub and thrusts all the way into you with one fluid motion — hips flush against your fleshy ass and bottoming out in your weeping pussy. each movement is easily guided by his previous release, forming a foamy white ring at your entrance. he wraps a hand around the back of your head, claws massaging your scalp to soothe the cloying cries caused by the new angle as he keeps you pinned to his body.

bakugou relishes in the warmth of your syrupy walls clenching tightly around his bricked up length but manages to find strength in pulling from your selfish slicked up hole to set a slow, calculated pace to the way he bucks into you — dragging his monstrous girth along your ribbed walls and pleasure points. the utter power behind his hips quickly have water splattering over the edge of the bathtub and tear through babyish yelps escaping from between your cherry-bitten lips. the beast takes control of your body like a king or a prince with a strict rein over land. ruling over every thought once rattling around in your mind.

your shaking hands take hold of sun-kissed tooth’s of his fur, ones that muffle your little laments and whines as katsuki fucks you down on his shaft — taking you to the high heavens and back. cloud nine just within your reach. oxygen eludes you, leaving your lungs vacant and struggling to keep up with everything the beast gives you — carving a pathway for his big seedy cock against your insides with every feverish buck of his hips into yours. “feels…feels s’good!” you shriek desperately, trying your best match his rhythm. “so deep, makin’ me feel so full!”

“already? haven’t even given you a proper load yet,” bakugou chuckles between condescending moans, drunk on the way it feels when he stretches you out around him the deeper he goes, poor pussy changing to accommodate his breath-taking size and whatever love he has to give you. as a result, the beast fills you until you’re practically a glass overflowing with love and pleasure. “could plug you full with dick ‘n cum, ‘n it still wouldn’t be enough for you. would it?” 

using a free hand, the blonde drags his claws grip down to your fleshy ass and spreads your cheeks apart, growling as the webs of slick tying them together break over his fingers — dampening them just as much as the water from the bath. his grip allows him to bully himself further into your molten core, moulding you perfectly up and down on his cock. “love how you feel around me, sweetness,” the praise smooths over your brain, wiping it of any feedback you have for the blonde and all you can do is gargle passionately in ecstasy. “don’t think i deserve to… fuck a pretty girl this tight…”

you squeeze around katsuki where your words fail you, juices dripping down his length into the bath nastily until it bathes his breeders balls as they clap against the curve of your ass repeatedly — heavy and full of a second load of cum just for you. even though he pushes and smears the first against pleasure spots dotted along your velvety walls. shaking your head, face hidden in water-logged fur, “y-you’re the only one who deserves to fuck me, katsuki, have this tight pussy— oh!” the tail end of your words come out as choked, lost to the echoey bathroom and splashing water as bakugou sinks his fangs into your bare shoulder.

he bites you, not only to mark you and taste the sheen of saltine sweat on your skin, but to pacify himself — help him cope with each flutter of your wet pussy and angelic simper. a delectable pain blossoms underneath the surface of your skin, and you weave your nimble fingers into bakugou’s fur to keep him in place, letting him bite you hard enough to draw blood. wounding you just as much as he had been wounded. 

ruining the bath with more than just sweat, juices and cum.

bakugou fucks you like he loves you, like he’s been waiting thousands of years to pour locked-away affections from his soul into yours. limbs slip and slide against the walls of the tub, filling the homing air and layering over the vulnerability lying in it. you’re sure you’d see this hidden truth in his vermillion eyes if you had the strength to look up from his chest too.

“keep talkin’ to me like that, swear i’ll ruin you ‘n this pussy for everyone. myself… the next man that has you,” bakugou growls as feral as the animal he’s been turned into. even with his body pressed hotly against yours, joined at your sticky sexes while you’re chest to chest ( sensitive nipples brushing each other’s), he still can’t see how much of you he owns. neediness and yearning spark between your compressed bodies as they dance together underwater, skin slapping on skin and water spilling everywhere. “she’ll never be able t’forget the way i make her fuckin’ feel…”

“oh god, please. please—“ you feel like you’re in the verge of tears, overwhelmed by everything that is the beast. that makes up katsuki bakugou. his size and thickness drive you insane, how he feels thrusting into your gummy walls and meeting the hilt sends you up a wall. not to mention the scent of his body, his fur, permeating your skin possessively and sinking into your pores. “don’t want anyone else after you, wanna have you inside of me forever. only you inside. just so pretty when you’re fucking me, katsuki…” you admit through earnest and shaky hiccups. 

despite rambling, your words feeling tacky on your tongue like someone’s stuffed your mouth with cotton, katsuki seems to finally get the hint. he makes you feel this way, he makes you see stars, he’s the one that you want — fully and undeniably. without a care in the world for how he looks. if that were the case, you wouldn’t be letting him rapidly rock his hips into you with lewd squelching sounds emanating from your ravaged pussy. you wouldn’t bounce up and down on his aching dick to chase him with a spasming, slippery hole when he just about pulled out of you, losing control of the movements of his hips — spreading the arousal beading on his cockhead against your insides.

“f-fuck… you’re gonna be the death of me…”  

the edge of the beast’s words develop a sharp shakiness to them, a sheen of sweat painted over your bodies from both the humidity in the bathroom and the exertion of your activities. you were living for the burn his fat girth created as it pushed its way past your puckered hole every time he jutted upwards or you weakly fucked down — bakugou knew you wanted more and he’d give it to you too. 

“y-you’re prettier. especially when i’m the one fuckin’ you,” bakugou whimpers seraphically, using his strong hand on your wet ass to lift and drop you in his milky white dick — not caring about the water that got everywhere, only focusing on matching you to his length jackhammering in and out of your pathetically creamy pussy. you spasm, keeping him a prisoner in your cunt while he spews copious amounts of precum inside of you and into the tub — coaxing a fresh wave of blistering hot essence out of you. 

all of a sudden, the beast uses his brute strength to  shift your positions with his cock still nestled within you and your back splashes against the remaining water in the tub — dampening your back and the crown of your hair. katsuki doesn’t let you sink too far back into the water, instead, holding you up by the far at waist, large paw curling around it entirely. “see that? my cock bulging in your tummy. s’all me, sweetness. will only ever be me. you’re mine, all fuckin’ mine for all of time.” he whispers above you lecherously, hazy vermillion gaze floating like driftwood down to your soft stomach. your eyes follow his, breath caught in your throat at the sight,  the shape of him outlined there as he pounds into your g-spot lovingly, dotting your eyes with constellations. “hold onto me, sweetness. gonna make us cum.” 

quickly, you wrap your ankles around the smallest part of the beast’s waist — cunt unlocking and locking around the curve of his dick at random with the new position. choking the precum out of him, opaque fat drops pearling at the slit every time katsuki’s hips lunge forward powerfully. “i love you,” tears begin to brew in your glassy eyes and gather in your lashes like dew drops on a leaf, streaming down the hot apples of your cheeks as you become overwhelmed with emotion. you’re not sure if you cry because of dopamine, lust and happy hormones jolting from your brain to the tips of your toes or because of the way katsuki slots his body against yours — drowns you in everything that is him. 

either way it doesn’t matter, because you don’t know what you’d do if the beast stopped loving you like this. making love to you with every push of his cockhead against sluice walls, every swipe of his tongue over your swollen lips and every scratch of his claws against your supple body. 

“i love you,” you repeat, the taste of your orgasm rushing over the horizon as you claw desperately for something, anything to ground you. you wriggle and write underneath him, sending more water out of the tub, stomach twisted in delightful knots and only manage to steady yourself by grasping bakugou’s thick black horns above you. “i want to be yours forever…b-because you’re perfect ‘n feel so good. ‘n no one will care for me like you do…”

“‘hmyfuckingods…shit!” bakugou swoops down to lick curse words into your impassioned, temperate mouth, weakened by your warm touch around his sensitive horns and your own words mewled out like a promise to the cursed monster of a prince. watching the beast, your beast, break above you hardly soothes your wrecked insides — honeyed juices drooling down your thighs, dripping into the tub in a viscous lava flow each time he pumps into you. parting between kisses and through your wet lashes, you witness the way sweat drips from his hairline and fur, the way his dark brows are furrowed in concentration ( focused on bringing you to the top of your peak ) and how his arms flex in order to drag your pulsating pussy up to meet his thick cock — skin smacking and breath mingling in the musky air. 

his golden fur glistens under warm candle light and if you looked close enough, you could spot the twinge of pink at katsuki’s cheeks from his exertion. he’s beautiful on top of you, fucking you, that you’d be happy drown here in this bathtub if it meant he was the last thing you ever got to see. “tell me how much you want me,” bakugou snarls against your swollen lips, spouting the covetously loaded words against your strawberry tongue before he slopping kisses you again — teeth clashing with yours, incisors nipping your bottom lip until it’s bloody while he maps out the taste of sex in your mouth. 

as if to coach an answer out of you,  his knuckle slips between your connected bodies to toy with your throbbing clit — being mindful of his claws, not wanting to cause you any pain when you’re so close to reaching your high. it’s hard for you to speak when his cock slips into you like magic and attacks your throat with a bounty of love bites in purply-blues. his intensity washes over you in waves, scorching you and soothing you all at once. over all the harsh moments once shared between you.

instinctively you squeeze at his horns and search for words, but bakugou answers for you — hardly peeling away from your, damp hot skin while he pulses to life inside of you. “cause i want you. want you so fuckin’ bad that it burns me. hurts me.” snarls and pushes his creamy cock as deep and as far as it can go, practically splitting you open, spreading your thighs wide ( as wide as the tub will allow ) to make room for his wide frame and hips between them. you can just tell how much he wants you, how it tears him apart pieces you back together, by the way he grinds against you — fluffy pelvis brushing against your puffy clit. with the hope to push you over the edge. “gods… you make me wanna lose it…” 

the beast picks up a pace and a thick strand of your mixed arousals swings between your bodies where the blonde beast plugs your spasming hole, the milky liquid finding purchase on your inner thighs and the veins that spiral down his shaft. the both of you start to lose it together, water slipping and sliding everywhere as bakugou moves to sit on his haunches, all-encompassing grip on your waist lifting you from the shallow depth of the tub to keep you on his cock — pussy squelching over his swollen and red shaft. 

in response, your back bows away from the bottom of the tub until you’re chest to chest once more and your lips part with “i want you, i want you, i want you! n-no one else!” you chant loudly, the words nearly lost over the sounds of the beast passionately slamming into you over and o er again. “k-katsuki! think i’m gonna… so close—! cumming—!” 

using two knuckles, bakugou pinches your clit between them and sends you hurtling over the edge of ecstasy. that’s all it takes, him purring to you as white flashes behind your glassy eyes. you squirt hard against him, into the tub, clear liquid spurting from your ravaged sex and covering the beast’s fur in a messy layer of your release. there’s so much of it, that it nearly forces his cock from your quivering hole — but he can’t bare to be away from you, to waste his own orgasm. for the damn in the beast’s lower belly breaks as well; an earth shattering high comes crashing down on him and forces his bulking furry frame to collapse over yours — hips stuttering and water rushing out of the bath.

katsuki tucks his burning face into your neck one final time. his nostrils flare and chest heaves as he cums with an frightening roar, arms encircling your head to keep you still and pinned beneath him while katsuki unapologetically ruts into your ruined heat; dragging his bulbous cockhead deliciously against your silken walls as his seed pours into you in a large, unapologetic amount. potent and thick white floods your womb, cloying against the ribbed parts of your pussy.  so much so, that you feel your tummy bulge even as some of it runs down your slit and between your ass cheeks — into the tub below.

neither of you move, completely weak and shaky in one another’s embrace — limbs heavy from water that clings to bakugou’s fur and your skin. if you could speak and your ears were no longer ringing from your world ending high, you’d tell the beast that you love him. that you care about him. that you never want to leave him.

if his state was any better than yours, you’re sure he’d do the same.

but for now, you grasp onto his wet back and rake your hands through the masses of wet golden fur to tug bakugou, the cursed beast, closer to you. never letting him go. pulling him in to press a lasting kiss into his damp, muzzle. hoping your subtle affections will make do instead.

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate, feed into ai & recommend elsewhere.

[pasukiyo]

BEAUTIFUL THING

mike schmidt x f!reader word count; 2,573 warnings; smut, no plot, just porn :D summary; there was nothing in the world she wanted more than mike schmidt. but what were the chances he'd ever make a move on her?

 She wanted Mike Schmidt.

 Don’t get her wrong, she absolutely adored Abby, she was sweet, funny, and overall not a hard kid to take care of. But she knew all too well what her intentions were when she agreed to take up the babysitting job— how could she say no when he looked at her like that with those big, deep brown eyes?

 It was another late night spent at the Schmidt house— Mike had just gotten himself a new job with unholy hours, some late night security gig he had no choice but to take. Her mouth opened in a yawn and through her bleary vision, she blinked down to the watch on her wrist. 

 4:30 AM. Mike wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half or so. 

 She sighed and threw her head back against the cushions, staring absentmindedly at the television as some old cartoon played, audio soft and muffled. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered trying to stay up for Mike— she’d been babysitting for him for months, (without pay, might she add) and still, neither he nor she had made any moves. She wasn’t even sure if he ever even intended to make a move on her. 

 But she was just so certain that he felt at least some sort of attraction towards her. She could see it in the way he looked at her, how his eyes would absentmindedly trail down her body against his better judgment, how he’d pull the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth while he did. She could see it in the way his body would react when she came too close, like when she gave him a handshake or playfully shoved his shoulder.

 It was the same way she reacted when he was close. 

 Surely it couldn’t all be for nothing?

 Her eyelids were falling heavy against her eyes and she slowly slumped further into the cushions of the couch, hands tightening around the blanket around her body. Sleep was so close that she could reach out and feel it, and she would’ve slipped into the arms of slumber if it hadn’t been for the opening and closing of the front door. 

 She grumbled and furrowed her brows down at her watch. 

 4:35 AM. Mike wasn’t supposed to be home yet. 

 At the notion, she jolted and snapped her head towards the entrance, her heart thrumming against her chest as she prepared herself for the sight of a total stranger, ready to make a run straight for Abby’s room. She blinked and narrowed her eyes at the dark silhouette of the figure as it hung its coat on the rack bolted on the wall. 

 “Sorry. S’ just me.”

 She knew that voice. It was a voice she always dreamed about, a voice belonging to someone she’d seen practically everyday.

 “Mike?” Her voice came out rough, having not spoken for hours, not since Abby had gone to bed. “What are you doing home so early?” She asked as she pushed herself further up the sofa while Mike made his way towards the recliner, wiping a hand down his face before plopping down into the seat. She could only make out his face through the light from the television but even then, she could sense something was off. 

 Mike tapped his fingers against the armrest of the recliner, “I… I just… needed to leave… I guess,” he replied and she frowned, scooting to the far side of the couch closest to him. “Is… is everything alright?” She questioned, unsure whether or not he needed consoling. Mike leaned further back into his seat and let his eyelids flutter closed, inhaling deep through his nostrils. 

 “Just… is Abby asleep?” He finally asked after a moment and she nodded, humming. “She went down earlier than usual. Actually managed to get her to eat something,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile but quickly faltering again when she realized Mike wasn’t going to reciprocate. He looked almost… distraught. 

 Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she pondered her options. She’d known Mike for some time but even then, she still knew little to nothing about him. He slept a lot, that was for sure. And he loved his little sister and was trying so hard to be exactly the type of person she needed. But she knew nothing about him, Mike Schmidt himself. She didn’t know what he did in his free time, what he liked to eat, if he had hobbies, nothing. 

 Hell, she’d spent so much time fantasizing about him and filling in all the holes herself, she hardly even acknowledged that he could be somebody entirely else. She didn’t know the first thing about him.

 But she could learn to try. 

 She leaned forward, a steady hand warily finding his on the armrest of the recliner and she flinched when Mike snapped his eyelids open, looking between her and their touching hands. Their gazes surged into one another and she made no moves, as if seeking any sign that she should stop.

 Mike’s heart thrummed so hard inside his chest, it was a miracle that she couldn’t hear it. She looked at him as if she were asking permission— permission to what, he hadn’t even the slightest clue. But in spite of the voices inside of his head telling him he shouldn’t, that he shouldn’t let her, that he was wrong for her, he did. How could he say no when she looked at him like that, as if he were the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes upon?

 His silence gave her the confidence to let her fingers creep further down to the back of his hand, flipping it around until they rested against the heel of his palm. Slowly, she soothed the tips of her fingers up his palm until they fell between the cracks of his, letting her digits curl around his knuckles. Mike shuddered at the touch and let his own fingers press down against hers and he watched as she raised their intertwined hands to her mouth, their gazes molded together as she pressed her lips against his skin. His lips trembled as they fell open and he narrowed his eyes, clinging onto the last bit of restraint he had left. 

 “You can relax with me, Mike,” she whispered against his skin, pressing another soft kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger. “You don’t have to worry while I’m around.”

 Mike pressed his lips back together and fought back the urge to groan at her words, his eyes wandering from their hands, down her arm, to her chest where it pressed against the edge of the sofa. His breath shuddered when he exhaled and the rubber band stretched inside of him finally released and with it, the last of his restraint. 

 Fuck it, he thought. It’s been long enough.

 Mike tugged her closer by the hand and her lids widened, a squeal slipping from her lips, in which he was swift to eat right up, pressing his mouth against hers. With his hand not intertwined with hers, he gripped her hip, working his way up to her waist to squeeze. The sound she made was muffled inside their admittedly messy kiss and he pulled her even closer, her knees having nowhere to go but on the outside of his thighs. 

 Mike groaned and pulled away to catch his breath as her hips ground down against his, already feeling frustrated with the growing erection in his jeans. He blinked up at the woman on top of him, her arms thrown over his shoulders, her chest heaving as she chased air back into her lungs. She stared down at him with hazy irises, still bleary from lack of sleep. 

 “Sorry,” Mike finally managed to breathe out, his palms resting on either of her thighs. “Probably a little much, wasn’t it?”

 He watched as the corners of her lips curved into a grin and she chuckled breathlessly, shaking her head. “Not enough,” she tittered as she surged her lips back into his, one of her hands on his shoulders slithering their way into his mess of dark tendrils, fingers curling and tugging at his roots. He hissed inside her mouth and dug his fingernails into her skin, a whimper falling from her lips, allowing him to take control of the situation. 

 He pressed himself forward and reached for the end of her t-shirt and she briefly broke away to allow the fabric up and over her head, her own fingers already working at the buckle of his belt. Mike leaned forward to pepper kisses all across the tops of her breasts and she threw her head back as he took over in undoing his belt, ripping it from his loops and throwing open the button and zipper of his jeans. 

 She clambered off of him as he raised his hips to tug his pants and boxers down just enough to allow his erection to spring free of its restraints, feeling her stomach do a somersault at the sight as she stripped herself of her own shorts and panties. Mike fought the urge to wrap his hands around his cock as she reached behind her back to undo the clasps of her bra and time seemed to slow as the straps fell from her shoulders, the lave toppling to the floor altogether. 

 He swore he could feel his mouth water and never before this moment had he wanted something, or someone, more. He blinked up at her, following her gaze down to his lap and at his erection that stood tall, waiting for her, dripping with pre-cum. 

 Mike cocked an eyebrow, “you just gonna stand there or you gonna take it?” He asked, voice low and husky and fuck, she thought she’d drop dead right then and there. Still, this was a dangerous game they were playing. “What about Abby?” She whispered, glancing towards the hallway where Abby’s room was. “What if she wakes up?”

 Mike pressed his lips together and bucked his hips, raising a leg to softly give her calf a kick. “You can be quiet, right?” He murmured in question and she felt herself clench from his voice alone. Here Mike Schmidt was, cock out and erect, all because of her. This was something she had only dreamed of— never did she think that this would become reality. 

 Mike cocked his eyebrow again and she shook herself from her thoughts, taking his hand as he guided her back onto his lap. Her body shuddered and her bones rattled as she began to sink herself down, jolting when the tip brushed against her cunt, teeth sinking down into the plush of her bottom lip to contain her sounds. 

 “It’s okay,” Mike whispered. “I got you.”

 Her eyes about rolled in the back of her head at that as his hands kneaded at the flesh of either of her hips, guiding her further down his length, making sure to go agonizingly slow to ensure she felt every single fucking inch of cock inside of her. Tears brimmed the outskirts of her eyelids as she finally sat still on his lap, filled to the brim with cock. Mike let her head fall down against the curve of his shoulder, burying her nose into the crook of his neck as she allowed time to adjust to his size, simultaneously trying to keep her sounds to a minimum. 

 “You’re so tight,” Mike’s breath shuddered in her ear and his voice made goosebumps litter her skin, his fingertips like the icy breath of a ghost against her back. “You think you can handle moving now?” He asked in a whisper against the shell of her ear and she nodded, letting him grab her thighs and push her further up his cock until just the head remained. She cried against his neck when he sank her all the way back down his length, the lewd noise of their wet skin slapping together making her clench around him. “Fff… uuck,” he dragged his curse out as he snapped his hips up against her.

 “Shit!” She gasped as he thrusted again and again and again. And she let him. She let him use her in whatever way he pleased. 

 “Gonna be good for me?” He muttered next to her ear. “Gonna let me take care of you, hm?” She nodded, bobbing her head up and down against his shoulder as he snapped his hips up to hers again and again, daring the coil inside her belly to snap. “Think you can handle it?” He asked again and she nodded once more, crying and biting down on his collar. “Yes!” She cried, fortunately muffled against his skin. 

 So Mike thrusted again, harder and harder, chasing that high, that release he so desperately needed. He could tell she was close— it’d probably been so long since she’d been stuffed by cock like this. She’d probably been waiting for this moment just as long as he has. 

 With the pad of his thumb, he pressed down against her aching bud and Mike could feel a fresh new set of tears soak his skin as she cried, bucking her hips into his touch. His thrusts were as sloppy as they were powerful and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. 

 “Mmm… Mike… I’m… I’m gonna…” she hardly managed to stutter out, slowly feeling the coil inside her stomach as it began to unravel. 

 “Yeah?” Mike said, his other hand wrapped around her neck and pushing her forehead down against his, gazing up at her closed eyelids. He rolled his head against hers, “look at me,” he breathed out and watched as she slowly fluttered her lids back open, just as more fat tears beaded down her cheeks. The sight was enough to get him to teeter on the edge himself. 

 “Gonna come?” He asked and she nodded, sweat-slicked forehead lolling against his. He nodded too, already feeling her release around him as she spawned around his cock, relying solely on him and his body to keep herself up. She buried her face in the crook of his neck again as she whined and cried, Mike’s thrusts speeding up as he gave himself that final push he needed to send himself reeling, spiraling and shaking with the force of his release. 

 “Fuck,” he growled into the skin just below her ear, squeezing his eyelids shut tighter as he willed himself to keep his sounds on the low, for the sake of his little sister sleeping just in the other room. 

 Silence fell over Mike and the babysitter for a good, long moment as they both recovered from their highs, chasing air back into their lungs as the realization of what they had just done began to sink in. Mike should be mortified— she was his sister’s babysitter, he doesn’t have time for this, she doesn’t deserve him, he shouldn't have done this. 

 But the woman in his lap settled herself closer into him, nuzzling her nose against the crook of his neck, her lips like a crescent moon against his skin as she placed a soft kiss to his flesh there. 

 “I hope you’re okay, Mike,” she whispered and he threw his head back, an arm thrown around her body as he stared up at the ceiling. How could he push her away now?

a/n; so yeah!!! i watched fnaf on friday and it kinda sorta just brought back my whole josh hutcherson phase so enjoy!! this was just a quick little something i wrote up and there's like no plot at all and not proofread LMAO

[lacydollette]

Could you do Rafe x Sweet Pouge reader. They have just seen each other around, never talked. He finds her attractive tho. She has been asked on a date by a Kook. She sits at the restaurant all dolled up, excited and waiting. Rafe happens to be there too sitting at a table. And SHOOK by the way she looks. She get's a phone call from the dude, who laughs and says it was a prank. She gets up teary eyed.......maybe he follows?.......

WHEN TWO WORLDS COLLIDE ⸻ rafe cameron

a/n ahh i had sm fun writing this!! soft rafe just tickles my brain. tysm for requesting this!! I added a few more things to make it a little longer, so I hope u like it.

warnings sweet pogue!reader, rafe being a big softie, fluffy asf, a lot of comfort, rafe lowkey having a crush, strangers to lovers kinda trope (?)

As you walked toward the entrance of the Country Club, your heart was racing with excitement and nerves. You smoothed down your flowy sundress one last time, glancing at your reflection in the glass doors.

It wasn't every day that a Pogue girl like you was asked out by a Kook, and you had spent hours getting ready, picking out the perfect outfit, doing your makeup just right. Your heart fluttered at the thought that maybe, just maybe, you could fit in this time. You could be someone different—someone who belonged.

You stepped inside, feeling a mix of anticipation and insecurity as you glanced around the Country Club, its polished floors and chandeliers making you feel slightly out of place. But you pushed the feeling down. This was your chance.

You sat by the window, checking your phone for the fifth time already. The guy who asked you out was someone you barely knew, but he was part of the crowd you'd always watched from the outside. You didn't want to admit how much this meant to you—how much you hoped this could be a chance to break free of the labels that defined life on kildare island.

Minutes passed, and your smile started to falter. You checked your phone again, trying not to feel anxious. He's just running late, you told yourself, forcing a smile, trying to stay hopeful. And then your phone buzzed, and you answered the call rather quickly.

But the moment you heard the voice on the other end, your heart sank.

"You're a fucking Pogue," the guy laughed. "Like I'd ever want to go out with someone like you. It was just a joke."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You sat there, frozen, his words leaving nothing but humiliation. Your throat tightened, and you blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears that were already forming in your eyes. You hung up without saying anything, your hands trembling as you placed the phone on the table.

You'd dolled yourself up for this—you had hoped, you had believed. But now, sitting in the middle of the elegant Country Club, surrounded by perfection, you felt utterly small. Like you didn't belong, like you were foolish to have ever thought you did.

A single tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly brushed it away, hoping no one had seen you. You tried to pull yourself together, but it was too late. The tears came faster now, and you couldn't stop them. You lowered your head, hiding your face in your hands, feeling the weight of the rejection settle deep into your chest.

All you had wanted was a chance to feel special, to be seen as more than just a Pogue. But now, the sting of being a joke, felt unbearable.

What you hadn’t realized was that you weren't alone.

Rafe had been watching you from the moment you'd walked into the Country Club, leaning against the bar. He had seen you, in your dress, eyes bright with anticipation, and he'd noticed how beautiful you looked.

He had always thought that. But, like most Kooks, he'd kept his distance—You were a Pogue, after all. You were from two different worlds, and he wasn't supposed to get involved.

Still, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

Rafe had watched you wait, seen the way your excitement slowly turned into devastation. He saw the moment your heart broke, face crumpling as you ended the call. And now, watching you try to hide your tears, something inside him snapped.

He couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

The words he overheard 'You're a fucking Pogue' repeated themselves in his head, making Rafe's blood boil. His grip on his drink tightened until the glass nearly cracked. His anger simmered, but it was more than just frustration at the guy. It was guilt.

Guilt that he, too, had kept you at arm's length because of your Pogue status, but now, seeing you cry, he couldn't care less about the divide between Kooks and Pogues.

Rafe straightened up, his heart pounding as he made his way down to where you sat. You didn't notice him approaching, too lost in your quiet sobs, wiping your eyes and trying to pull yourself together.

When he reached you, he cleared his throat gently, your head snapping up, and eyes wide and red from crying. For a moment, you were visibly shocked to see him standing there.

"Hey," Rafe said, his voice low, almost soft.

You quickly wiped at your face, trying to compose yourself, clearly embarrassed. "Rafe?" You mumbled, voice shaky. "What are you—?"

"I saw what happened," he cut in gently, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his expression you didn't expect— maybe concern? "That guy's an idiot."

You swallowed hard, your lips trembling as you tried to push back the emotions. "It was stupid," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't have expected anything different."

"You didn't deserve that," Rafe said, sitting down across from you. His eyes never leaving yours while his words were firm, but his tone was gentle. "He's just some asshole who thinks he's better than everyone. Don't let him make you feel like this."

You stared at him, unsure of how to respond. Why was Rafe Cameron, of all people, sitting here, comforting you? He was part of the same world as the guy who had just humiliated you. But the look in his eyes was sincere, and for the first time that night, you didn't feel invisible.

"I just..." you started, your voice breaking. "I thought maybe for once I could be... someone different. I thought maybe I could belong."

Rafe's jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn't speak. He understood more than you realized. The pressure to belong, the weight of expectations—it was something he knew all too well.

"You don't need to be different," he finally said. "You don't need to change who you are to fit in with people like him. You're better than that."

You blinked at him, your heart fluttering at his words. You hadn't expected any of this. The warmth in his gaze, the way he was looking at you as if you mattered—like you were more than just a Pogue. It made you feel seen in a way you hadn't been before.

"Why do you care?" You asked quietly, your voice still shaky.

Rafe hesitated, the question hanging in the air between you two. Why did he care? Because, for the first time in a long time, he saw someone who didn't fit into the perfect mold. You were real, and raw, and beautiful in a way that went beyond the labels that divided the two of you.

Yet he had kept his distance because of the lines drawn between your worlds. Now, though, seeing you like this, those lines didn't seem to matter anymore, yet he couldn't bring himself to tell you, feelings just weren't his thing.

"You know," Rafe said with a small smile, his eyes flicking over your dress, "you went through all that trouble to get dressed up. It'd be a shame to let that pretty outfit go to waste."

You blinked, looking up at him with those wide, glistening eyes, as if you couldn't quite understand what he was saying. "What do you mean?"

"Come on," he said, standing up and offering you his hand. "How about a round of golf? I mean, you're already here. Might as well have a little fun, right?"

You hesitated, feeling a little shy. "I've never played golf before," you admitted, glancing down at your hands.

Rafe's smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, it's your lucky day then, cause I'm the best teacher you could ask for."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, your heart doing little flips. You weren't sure why he was being so kind, but something about it made you want to see where things could go.

So to his surprise—and a little relief—you nodded. He reached out again, and when you took it, he led you outside toward the golf course. There was something about seeing you like this, so out of your element but willing to trust him, that made Rafe feel...different. It was hard to describe, but he liked it.

As you two reached the the course, you looked around nervously, feeling a little out of your comfort zone. Rafe handed you a club, watching as you awkwardly tried to mimic the stance you'd seen in movies or on TV. You were adorable, fumbling slightly, and even though you seemed embarrassed, you didn't give up.

"You're close," Rafe said, stepping forward, his grin softening as he moved to help you. "Here, let me show you."

Before you knew it he moved behind you, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as he placed his hands over yours, guiding your grip on the club. Your breath caught as his chest brushed against your back as he adjusted your stance, and he could feel the way your body twitched slightly, the tension building between you.

Rafe wasn't immune to it either—your presence so close to him, your soft scent filling the air—it stirred something inside him, a pull he couldn't ignore.

"Like this," Rafe murmured close to your ear, his voice low and smooth. "Just follow my movements."

You swallowed, trying to focus on what he was teaching you, but the closeness, the quiet intensity of the moment, made it hard to focus on just golf.

Rafe could tell you were trying your best to concentrate, but he could also feel your nerves, the way your hands trembled just a bit under his. It made him chuckle, not in a teasing way, but in a way that made him feel something...warm.

You nodded, hands shaking slightly as he guided you through the motions. After a few practice swings, he pulled away, giving you room to try on your own.

"Go ahead," he said, stepping back with a smile. "You've got this."

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. You adjusted your grip on the club, your mind still replaying the feeling of Rafe's hands all over you. You swung the club, and to both of your surprise, the ball flew perfectly across the course.

"I did it!" You exclaimed, voice filled with excitement. Without thinking, you jumped up and down, joy overflowing as you turned to face Rafe. "Did you see that?"

Rafe grinned, his expression soft as he nodded. "Yeah, I saw that," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked proud, but there was something else in his gaze—something warm and genuine that made your whole body react.

Without even realizing it, you launched yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly in your burst of happiness. Your energy, your warmth, it all hit him at once, and for a moment, Rafe stood there, a bit stunned. Then, he laughed softly, wrapping his arms around you in return.

You were so full of life in that moment, so pure in your happiness, that it caught him off guard. But once you realized what you were doing, you quickly pulled away, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Sorry," you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "I didn't mean to freak out over something so small."

Rafe shook his head, still smiling at you. He could see how shy you felt, but he didn't want you to feel like you had to hold back. "Don't apologize," he said, his voice gentle. "I think it's adorable."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you dared to look up at him again. The way he was watching you, his smile so easy and sincere, made you feel something you hadn't expected—a sense of belonging, right here, in this moment with him.

Even Rafe himself felt something shift between you two, something that had been brewing for a while but had finally come to the surface today. As he stood there, watching you, the line between Kook and Pogue seemed to blur, and for once, he didn't care about any of it.

Everything that mattered was you.

[yuujispinkhair]

Tribe leader/Viking Sukuna headcanons

After seeing this fanart, a sweet anon sent me this prompt: "Imagine that you are a simple girl in another tribe who attracted the leader Sukuna who at that moment came to negotiate with the leader of your tribe, he became interested in you and decided to make you his wife and cooperate with your people. So you left with him and began to live with him and give birth to his heirs."

Thank you so much for sending me this! When I saw the art, I was thinking of something along those lines, too! The picture reminded me of the tv show Vikings, so the following headcanons take place in that time.

Pairing: Viking!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Smut + fluff Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: 18+, smut, arranged/forced marriage, virginity loss, blood, breeding, pregnancy, slight lactation kink, having children, miscarriage (Sukuna comforts reader afterwards. He doesn't just want her because of the heirs she can give him), general mentions of violence and human sacrifices. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

There is art now for this fic by the lovely @sweetlandspos! Thank you so much Émilie, for bringing Viking!Sukuna to life! He's so beautiful!

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is feared for his ruthlessness in battle and his strength that seems almost god-like. All the other tribes try to stay on his good side and forge alliances with him instead of giving him a reason to burn down their towns.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who looks so intimidating when he comes to visit your settlement. Tall and broad-shouldered with all those buff muscles on display and the bones of his enemies decorating his clothes.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who you can't take your eyes off when you and the rest of your tribe gather in your leader's throne room and watch the negotiations. He sends shivers down your spine, but not just in a fear-inducing way, if you are honest. He is so enticing. Powerful and intelligent, and so attractive.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is such a beautiful man. His face is too pretty for a warrior. Not even his scars and tribal tattoos can hide his beauty. A smug smirk lifts the corners of his lips, and his voice is calm and confident. He moves gracefully like a big cat, beautiful but deadly. He is the most stunning man you have ever seen, and you hang on every word that falls from his lips as if he carries ancient magic in his voice.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose icy blue eyes scan the crowd slowly, glittering like two precious jewels in the firelight illuminating the crowded room. Your breath catches in your throat when that intense gaze lands on you. You feel like a small animal trapped in the gaze of its hunter. Should you lower your head to show him your respect? Or will he take affront if you dare to look at anything else but him?

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who takes the decision away from you when he smirks at you and laughs softly before he turns his attention back to your leader.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who announces his conditions for a peace treaty in a confident, demanding tone. The voice of a man who is used to getting what he wants. A man who knows he is too powerful to get turned down.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who suddenly points a long tattoed finger at you and speaks the words that will flip your whole world upside down, "And I want her."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes your heart drop with his demand, but all you can do is stare at him in a mix of fear and excitement. A murmur runs through the crowd, and already, several hands are pressing against your back, shoving you towards Sukuna, making you stumble and screech as you are about to fall at his feet.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who catches you before you hit the ground, his muscular arms holding you easily, an amused smirk lighting up his handsome face, light blue eyes glittering in amusement as he drawls teasingly, "Aww, someone's eager to become my little wife, huh?"

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes you sit on his lap that evening when a big feast is held in his honor and to seal the peace treaty with your tribe. You barely dare breathe, full of fear as you sit on his strong, muscled thighs, gasping when one of his large hands wanders under your skirt to squeeze your thigh possessively.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who has two of his men stand guard in front of your door so no one will attack his future wife or maybe to prevent you from sneaking away. But you aren't even sure you want to run from him. Who are you here in your current tribe anyway? Just another orphan who grew up to help on one of the farms. Isn't this new role much more important? To be the bride of Ryomen Sukuna? To be a means that allows your tribe to prosper and ensures peace and trade with Sukuna?

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose large hand has a firm, unrelenting grip on your arm as he leads you to his horse the next morning. But he lets you say goodbye to all your loved ones, taking their blessings and well wishes with you before your future husband helps you onto his horse.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is such a rough man, but whose hands are surprisingly gentle when he lifts you onto the back of his giant horse. He sits behind you, his firm muscles pressing against your back, rippling with every move he makes. His muscular buff arms cage you in, keeping you captive or keeping you safe. You can't tell which one of the two it is.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes a conflict rage in your chest. On the one hand, you are scared of this dangerous big man who has the power to just demand to have you as if you are some cattle. On the other hand, you can't deny that small hidden part of you that feels excited that such a powerful and attractive man desires you enough to want to make you his wife.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes your pulse flutter nervously when you feel his strong arms around you and hear him order his men around with his low, velvety voice, telling them to find a good resting place for the night.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who kisses you roughly on that first night. His large hands that cup your face are calloused, but his lips are warm, and his tongue is soft and so skilled when he pries your mouth open and licks into it. It's nothing like the shy, clumsy kisses you shared with the boys in your settlement. Sukuna is a feared warrior, a powerful tribe leader, someone who people believe is actually the son of a god. And you can feel all that in his kiss. Deep and intense, making your head spin and your body brim with a desire you have never felt before.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who rides with you again the next day and trails teasing kisses down your neck to pass the time during the long ride. You are sure he is fully aware of what he is doing to you. How he makes your heart race and makes a mix of fear and arousal throb in your veins. Especially when he grabs your chin to tilt your face up and capture your lips in a heated, wet kiss, licking unashamedly into your mouth in front of his men, showing everyone that you are his.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who whispers in your ear, "Are you scared of me, my little wife?" and then breaks out in loud, barking laughter when you exhale shakily and tell him, "Only a fool wouldn't be scared of you... but maybe I am also flattered that you picked me, my lord."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who still chuckles while his tongue licks a lazy stripe up the side of your neck, and he huskily tells you, "I am not a lord. I am a god. And I saw a goddess right there in that shabby throne room. I had to take you with me. It was a sign from the gods. You will give me such strong and beautiful children. Together, we can conquer the whole world."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who forces himself to keep his hands off you before your wedding night as a show of respect to the gods, but who lets you feel his desire for you when he hugs you from behind and presses his hardness against you once you have moved into his house.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who has you dressed in the finest garments for your wedding day. A beautiful red dress lined with gorgeous white ermine fur that was specifically made for you. Your neck, wrists, and ears are decorated with glittering gold and precious gemstones.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who makes you squeal when he swoops you up into his muscular arms and carries you into the ceremony hall, accompanied by the loud cheers of his people. Your hand is shaking when you exchange wedding rings with him, but you stay brave, speaking your vows and taking Sukuna's heavy sword when he offers it to you as his promise to protect you.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who sacrifices several of his enemies to the gods to ask for their blessings for your marriage and your fertility. He looks scary with the pattern painted onto his face with fresh blood. But at the same time, it makes him look feral in a way that makes an unknown heat throb between your legs.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who shares his food and mead with you on the decadent feast held after the wedding ceremony, where you sit on the throne next to his. One of his strong arms stays wrapped around your waist the whole evening, and the deep glances he sends your way make your skin tingle with anticipation.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who takes your virginity that night, making you cry out in pain when his thick cock splits you open for the first time. But his lips silence your cry, and soon you make other noises. Loud moans of pleasure fall from your lips as your new husband moves inside you with deep and sure thrusts that hit a spot inside you that makes you scratch the broad muscles of his back and arch up against Sukuna's huge body. Your cunt throbs around his cock as you find the sweetest and most intense release you ever had.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who afterward pushes two of his long fingers into your used cunt to push his seed back into you, leaning down to kiss you savagely and murmuring in your ear that he wants to see your belly hard and swollen with his heirs.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who paints his clan symbols on your face with a mix of your virginal blood and his cum, telling you that you are his forever and that you are blessed by the gods now too after taking his seed into you.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is so proud when you show the first signs of pregnancy.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who becomes extremely protective and possessive now that you carry his heir. Who worships your body every night, cupping and kissing your swollen breasts, licking at the drops of milk that already spill from them, telling you it tastes like the nectar of the gods.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose large rough hands caress your swollen belly gently, who kisses it, and talks to your unborn child, telling his son, as he predicts, that he will be born under the blessing of the gods. That he will become a great leader and a god himself one day.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is triumphant when your first child is a boy with pink hair and a strong build and loud voice. A future leader just like his father. The first heir of many more to follow.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is feared by everyone but treats his wife and newborn child with a gentleness that surprises you. He asks you to let him hold your baby and carry him in his strong arms. And the way Sukuna looks at your child tells you that he doesn't just see little Yuuji as an heir but as someone who has Sukuna's heart.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose hungry and proud gaze follows you for days until he has you under him again, fucking you with hard, deep thrusts, moaning loudly, and pumping you full of his seed over and over again. "You gave me such a strong heir, my love. I know you'll give me so many more."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who rushes to your side when you have a miscarriage during your second pregnancy. Who hugs you to his broad chest, wipes the sweat and blood off you, and cradles you in his arms.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who kisses your tears away and reassures you when you are scared he will kick you out if you won't give him more heirs.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who shakes his head and tells you, "I mourn our unborn child, but I thank the gods for not taking my beloved wife away from me too. You are more to me than just a vessel that gives birth to my heirs. You are my wife, my companion, the one who the gods sent to me as my soulmate. I love you. Even if we have no more children, I will never take a new wife."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who you see in a new light after the reassurance and love he gave you on that day. And suddenly, you find yourself falling in love with your husband, too. You treat him more tenderly. You caress his soft hair when the two of you cuddle in your bed to keep each other warm. You kiss the tattoos on his face and smile at him, your heart fluttering when Sukuna smiles back at you and pulls you into a slow, tender kiss. You will never forget the happiness in his eyes when you tell him you love him too.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who fucks you thoroughly that night until the two of you are sweating and rolling around on top of the warm furs, kissing and caressing each other needily while he fills you with his hot seed until you are overflowing from it.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is delighted when you give birth to your second child, and that child looks like the perfect mix of the two of you. He grins at you and tells you that this is clearly a child of love, conceived on the night you confessed your love to him.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who is actually a caring husband who truly treasures you. Who likes to spend his nights with you wrapped under the warm furs, making slow love while he kisses you deeply, rolling his hips with those slow, languid moves that make you sob his name and come undone so sweetly on his cock. 

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who likes to hold you in his strong arms afterward, with your head resting on his broad chest and your small fingers tracing the tattoos on his chest and abs. He loves to talk to you for hours every night, telling you all about his day, about his current worries and plans, about political things and battle tactics, trusting you with all his secrets.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, whose love fills you with warmth even on the coldest winter days. Your heart is held securely in his strong hands. And you know that no one will dare lay a hand on you or your children in fear of Sukuna's wrath. His strength and power make you feel safe here in your new home.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who teaches you how to enjoy sex to the fullest. Who teaches you how to ride his cock and his face. Who teaches you how to take from him too. Because he is your husband, and that means he belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who trusts you with ruling in his place during his absence. Who declares that anyone who disrespects you will get sacrificed to the gods.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who keeps you on his thick, strong cock all night before he has to leave for one of his various exploration trips or battles, savoring you to the fullest. Making sure to fuck you so good that you will still feel him for days after he set sail.

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who pulls you into his arms one last time before he boards the ship, kissing you deep and long. And there is this burning love in his blue gaze when he tells you, "I will do anything in my power to come back to you, my love. I have the gods on my side. But if, for whatever reason, they should decide it is my time to enter Valhalla, then I want you to know that I will wait there until you join the afterlife, too, and I will come find you, no matter where you are."

+ Tribe leader Sukuna, who luckily doesn't go to Valhalla and always comes back to you with more scars on his gorgeous body but with the same love in his eyes.

AAAHHH I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM!!! This became much longer than I intended, but I really miss the show Vikings, and I love Viking!Sukuna to an insane amount, so it is what it is ;) This was, once again, very self-indulgent, but hopefully, some of my fellow Sukuna lovers will enjoy it too! Thank you so much to the nice anon who sent me that prompt!

Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[imaginedanvrs]

show and tell

masterlist

dark!wandanat x reader. sub!wanda, dom!natasha, dom-turned-sub!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: cheating, dubcon, undiscussed voyeurism, exhibitionism, size kink, strap on sex (r giving and recieving), mentions of tribbing, praise, degrading, gun play, threats of violence, rough sex, begging, masturbation

“Too much…y/n- baby,” Wanda panted helplessly. Despite the words she was hardly able to speak, her legs tightened their hold on you whilst you pushed your newest toy deeper. The Sokovian whined as her back arched off of her King sized bed and her fingers clawed into your back. 

  You grinned, gazing down at the beautiful view you had created. “All that power yet you can’t take a few extra inches,” you remarked. “And there I thought this poor neglected pussy would be desperate for it after being left alone for so long,” you continued, drawing your hips back only to thrust in further. She was so close to taking it all, she just needed some extra encouragement. 

  “Please,” she uttered, eyes connecting with your own the way they always did. She was so influenced with lust she was practically at your mercy, so you filled her to the brim with a grunt. “Fuck!” Wanda hissed, nerves ablaze. You felt her slick against your thighs when your pelvises pressed together and acknowledged the signal she was ready. 

  You fucked Wanda like it was the last time you’d do it, because that was always in question. She had an unpredictable life and her marriage was even more so. As though the absence of planning wasn’t challenging enough, the fact that Wanda was married to the world’s best spy (and assassin) was constantly looming over you. 

  “I bet she never makes you feel this way,” you said, watching Wanda’s blissed features as she moaned breathlessly. She looked insatiable when you had her like that, cheeks flushed, hair messed, pupils blown. All from your actions. “You like when I fuck you with this big cock?” You questioned with a smirk, as though you couldn’t hear how wet she was. 

  “I love it,” she cried out, mind frayed. “So good.” She just couldn't help herself. Neither could you. 

  “Better than her?” She met your cocky grin with a mere flash of hesitation before the carefree smile returned. 

  “So competitive,” a voice behind you mused. Your recognition was instant and you didn’t even turn around when you made to scramble out of the bed. You didn’t get the chance. With a distressed whine, Wanda’s magic entangled with your frame and pulled you flush against her until the strap was buried to the hilt once more. 

  “Wanda,” you gasped, unsure if she had heard her wife come in. “Let go,” you hissed as you heard the widow’s boots thud across the floor. Wanda didn’t oblige and instead began to move your hips for you to resume her pleasure. 

  “Stop that,” Natasha demanded and you stilled, unable to escape. “She was just saying how I could never make you feel this way, so by all means, let her go ahead,” she told her wife, gliding her cold fingertips over your hips and pushed you down. You registered Wanda’s hitch at the action. 

  “Please, I-” you tried but the spy wasn’t interested. 

  “Shut the fuck up.” You knew better than to argue with the Russian, especially once she rounded the bed to kiss her wife tenderly. 

  “Welcome home,” Wanda greeted, still very flushed to her wife’s amusement. You eyed the pair warrily, your heart hammering against your chest so hard you felt your ribs bruise. It almost stopped short when Natasha’s glaze turned cold and locked in on you. 

  “Fuck her,” she ordered. You didn’t dare object but had to tear your eyes away as you dutifully began to thrust into the woman beneath you. You focused on Wanda’s sweet noises of pleasure in an attempt to forget your fear, but it was difficult with Natasha’s stalking behind you again. 

  “So you’re the one who’s been fucking my wife while I was saving the world,” she commented casually. “Such a big strap on you too,” Natasha continued as she watched the soaked toy leave Wanda’s pussy only to be driven back in. “Does it make you feel tough to use this on her? How would you feel if I used this nasty cock on you?” You felt Wanda clench around you at her words. 

  “I’m sorry!” You tried again, imagining all of the different weapons that she could be carrying on her. 

  “You’re sorry you were caught,” she corrected. “If you make my wife cum I might consider letting you leave here with all of your limbs,” she considered, delivering a hard smack to your ass. You jolted forwards and heard Wanda cry out, falling into the rhythm Natasha pushed you into in a desperate attempt to please them both. It wasn’t hard, you had fucked Wanda countless times before, but you momentarily regretting bringing such a large toy to use under pressure. Still, it didn’t seem to be an issue for the Sokovian who gasped into your shoulder, peering at her wife with a knowing glint. Unknowingly to you, Natasha winked back with the same smirk she had stripped you of. 

  “ты хорошо себя чувствуешь, дорогая?” You frowned at the Russian’s words, knowing they were directed at Wanda but still feeling like you should know what they say. 

  “Wha-” you turned to question Natasha only to be met with the barrel of her handgun pointed at your head. You instantly cowered away but knew that even if you had tried to leap out of the bed again, it was pointless against the assassin. 

  “так хорошо!” Wanda answered, entirely unphased by the weapon she happened to be in the firing range of. Natasha hummed, seemingly pleased with her partner’s response.

  “I’m not gonna hurt you,” she told you pitifully. “As long as you do what you came here to do.” You figured there wasn’t much point protesting any longer, so you turned back to the woman beneath you and tried to pin all of your focus on her as you usually wouldn't without prompt. Even with a gun pointed at your head, you couldn’t stop admiring how much Wanda looked like some tainted angel that had succumbed to her desires. 

  “Don’t stop,” she called to you. She was breathless, desperate and despite her partner’s looming presence, entirely under your influence. You fucked Wanda relentlessly, just the way you knew she went crazy for until it became hard for you not to grow smug at the sounds you were drawing from her infront of her wife. Soon, the gun became a lingering thought and Wanda returned to the forefront of your mind as she had a habit of doing. 

  “I’m gonna cum,” she announced as your hips slapped against her own. You felt the tension in the room rise accordingly but didn’t let it affect you as you drove your fake cock into Wanda’s pussy harder. 

  “That’s it, fuck,” you encouraged, feeling the harness rub against you with every thrust that Wanda tried to meet. She dug her nails into your back as she came, soaking the toy that she clung to with such might that you had a challenge fucking her through her high. You rocked your hips against her as you coaxed her through her orgasm and felt yourself become impossibly wetter. Her slick was running down both your thighs and you wanted nothing more than to throw the harness off and rub your cunt against her ruined one. Perhaps you might have if it weren’t for the eyes on the both of you. 

  You grinned down at Wanda, your arrogance gradually making its way back until Natasha cut it short by dragging the harness off from your waist, as though she could read your mind. For a moment, you really did wonder if she was going to have you do what you were thinking of, until you noticed her tightening the harness to her own hips with practised ease. Somehow, seeing it on the widow made the strap look bigger. 

  You snapped your head back to Wanda when she began to shuffle herself out from under you and up towards the headboard that she rested against with heavy eyes. You made to follow until the barrel of the gun was pressed into the centre of your back and you were forced back down into the mattress with a grunt. 

  “You think we’re done?” Natasha scoffed. “What do you think, detka?” You peered up at Wanda with wide eyes only to see her fingers had returned to the space between her legs that was still red and leaking. The mischievous glint in her eyes was one you didn’t trust one bit. Your instincts were right. 

  “Make her take it,” the Sokovian husked. 

  “как скажешь,” Natasha replied simply, tossing the unnecessary gun to the side so that she could place both hands on you waist and lift your ass into the air. 

  “Wait,” you tried, knowing how large the toy was and how tight the fit would be. It was rare that you were on the receiving end so you were sure you weren’t ready for such a toy. At least you had worked Wanda up to it. Her wife didn’t seem to care because barely a second passed until you felt the head nudge at your exposed pussy. You could show your fear as much as you wanted, but you all heard the sound of the toy against your wetness. You whined into the bed, accepting you were made. 

  “I bet you wanted this from the start,” Natasha mused, pushing the toy past your reluctant entrance. You held the sheets in a death grip and cried out into the mattress at the immediate stretch. “You just need to be put in your place. Made to feel like the bitch you are,” she spat, pushing inch after inch into your dripping pussy without any consideration. 

  “Please!” You wailed inaudibly, needing a moment to adjust to the intrusion. Apparently you hadn’t earned that yet, because Natasha forced the rest of the toy in with a low groan that was overshadowed by your pleas of protest. It felt like you were being split apart, walls stretched to accommodate the cock you had such a thrill using just minutes prior. Needless to say, that power had been stripped. 

  “What happened, tough guy? Is it too much?” The Russian laughed. You registered Wanda’s breathy moans picking up again. “Too bad.” She drew her hips back only to slam them back into you along with every inch of the toy. You whined, high in your throat, and tried to close your legs but Natasha held them firmly apart. “No, no. Take it all. It’s only fair,” she pointed out, slamming herself against you. 

  The pain was prominent and stubborn, enhanced with every sharp thrust into your cunt that was soaked beyond belief, and you were powerless against it. Your slick only served to allow Natasha to fuck you as hard as she wished as your walls obediently parted for her to reach your depths in ways you had never felt. With that, the pleasure was finally able to peek through the haze of pain. 

  “Such a fucking whore letting me use you like this,” Natasha hissed but you hardly registered her over your burning sensations. She grabbed ahold of your hair and hauled your head up enough for your neck to ache and forced you to stare at her blissed out wife who sat pleasuring herself at your defeat. “You like being turned into a brainless fucktoy?” She asked. You didn’t respond as you looked at Wanda, knowing it would counteract with everything you had ever uttered to her but the harsh slap to your ass rid you of that final secret. 

  “Yes,” you whimpered. At the confession, Wanda fingered herself harder though it was clearly nothing compared to what her wife had you subject to. 

  Natasha’s thrusts were harsh, deliberately pushing as far inside you as she possibly could each time to make you bask in how large the toy was and how much it filled you up. You were stretched out perfectly around the toy, reshaped to take it as much as Natasha pleased. She was cruel, etching the words of ‘slut’ and ‘dumb’ into your mind as she ruined you in every sense of the word. 

  “I know you’re getting close, you’re clenching around me like a desperate bitch in heat,” Natasha told you, feuling Wanda’s arousal. 

  “Make her cum, make her know how good it feels,” the Sokovian called. Natasha huffed.

  “You’re lucky she’s here,” she muttered, clearly having planned on leaving you hanging despite the ruthlessness of the way she pounded into you. 

  Your moans grew along with Wanda’s and a matter of moments later, you were cumming around the unforgiving cock as hard as she had, pushing your own face into the bed to avoid meeting her eye in your moment of complete helplessness. You pushed back against Natasha as you came, desperate to have as much of her inside of you to cling to as your mind went blank. Your chest heaved and the world went quiet as your orgasm rushed through you. It was so much. Too much, all at once. 

  Once the intense waves finally finished crashing over you, you felt a pair of hands lift you up and place you on another body. You couldn't place either of them, too frazzled to tax your brain with the task, but you appreciated the warmth regardless and didn't fight it when a red haze clouded your mind and pulled you into a state of measured unconsciousness.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Juno - JJ Maybank

(one-shot, boyfriend!jj x reader, 4.1k words)

summary: You've built a beautiful little life with JJ, but his wild past and your trust issues keep you guarded. When a storm hits the island, you gain the perspective you need to take the next step.

content: fluff/smut, mentions of drinking and smoking. 18+ minors do not interact

When you met JJ, he was wild. Smoking, drinking, surfing - it was all he knew. You were new to the island and attending your first party at the Boneyard when he saw you standing by the keg, laughing with some friends, and his world turned upside down.

From that day on, he asked you out every time he saw you, relentlessly flirting with you. But you had heard about his reputation before your boxes were even unpacked, and you were far too cautious of a person to jump into something with someone like him quickly.

“You don’t give up, do you, Maybank?” You asked him about a year in, after he begged you to leave a party with him for the hundredth time.

“Usually I do, actually,” he leaned in so you could feel his warm breath against your lips, your heart rate spiking. “Just never wanted anything this bad.”

After that night, he had you. When you were a little older and out of school, and after months of begging from JJ, you moved in with him. You rented a little house on The Cut together, it wasn’t anything impressive, falling apart inside and outside, but with you waitressing and him working hourly for a landscaping service, it was all you could afford.

You had never been so anxious about anything as you were to move in with JJ. Your own parents were a disaster, your dad leaving before you could walk, and you grew up watching your mother’s revolving door of deadbeat men disappoint her over and over. Even though you knew JJ was infinitely better than even the best of those men, you had trust issues you couldn’t shake. You didn’t tell JJ about your concerns, not wanting him to take them personally, but he noticed the way you’d toss and turn in your shared bed, twisting your hair in your fingers with worry. 

He swore to himself he’d never let you down the way those other men did. He worked his way up at the landscaping business until he was a manager. Eventually, after giving up partying so you could both pick up a few extra shifts, you had made enough combined to put a deposit down and buy the house you shared. You both picked up second jobs at the Island Club, you’d bartend while he parked cars. When you got home each night, you’d pool your tips, counting them before adding them to the glass jar labeled “Dream House.” On the rare occasion you both had a day off, you’d sit in a lawn chair and keep him company while he fixed the roof, or lay on the bathroom floor while he installed the big claw-foot tub you’d wanted since you were a little girl. Bit by bit, he turned what you loving called The Shitshack into your Dream House.

Even though you were both exhausted at the end of every day, you always made time for each other. You’d split a $5 bottle of wine while playing Uno on the living room floor. Or you’d cook his favorite meals for him while he sat at the counter, your dutiful taste tester. After particularly rough shifts, you’d take a bath, JJ leaning back into you as you rubbed his shoulders and he massaged your calves and feet. 

Those nights would always lead to the two of you tangled up in your bed, or the shower, or on the floor. The beauty of owning your own home was that there was not one place - or position - you hadn’t tried. When you were first together, you had to talk JJ through pleasuring you, no girl ever being as honest with him as you were. He made you promise you’d never fake it with him, and you didn’t, patiently telling and showing him exactly what you wanted. He studied dutifully, storing away every single word you said. Now, you didn’t have to tell him anything, he knew exactly what to do. Hell, he knew your body better than you did.

“Just sit back and relax, baby girl, I got you,” he’d say, smiling coyly as you inevitably came undone for him in minutes.

Every night, whether you’d had sex or just talked about your days, he’d hold you until you fell asleep. And every night, without fail, he’d ask you to marry him. You’d just kiss him and tell him you loved him, falling asleep a few moments later. He didn’t take it personally, he understood why you were hesitant, and he’d wait until you were old and gray if that’s what you needed.

. ⋆ * .♡ *:･.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･.   ݁  ˖ ࣪ ..   ݁  ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･. ˖ ࣪ .

This was the first night in a long time JJ held you in bed and didn’t propose. A tropical storm was raging outside your little house, winds making the walls sway and rain pounding against the windows so hard you think they might break. You’re shaking in JJ’s arms, you’ve always hated storms and this is the worst one that’s hit the island in a long time. He pulls the covers over your head and wraps his strong arms around you tightly, trying to drown out the noise of the storm with soothing words.

“It’s gonna be okay, love,” he promises. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen. ‘S just a little rain, it’ll pass.”

Even though you were terrified, his confident words were enough to lull you into sleep sometime in the early morning. When you wake up, JJ isn’t in bed next to you. Sun is peeking through the crack in the curtains and the sound of birds chirping has replaced the thunder. You pull on your robe and slippers and shuffle out of the bedroom. 

You brew yourself some coffee, thankful the power is still on, and walk around the house to check for leaks or damage. There isn’t a single problem. You sigh in relief, beyond grateful for all the hard work JJ had put in to make the house so safe. 

Suddenly, you hear voices coming from outside the screen door. You look out to see commotion up and down the street, you set your coffee down and step outside, eyes wide as you take in the storm’s aftermath. You realize with dismay that you and JJ were the only house on the block that seemed untouched. Every other yard was riddled with debris, roofs were damaged, windows broken.

You spotted JJ across the street, helping a neighbor lift heavy branches off of his car. Feeling helpless, you hurried back into the house and pulled out everything you had in the pantry and fridge, making sandwiches and cutting up veggies, loading up the back of JJ’s landscaping van with the food. You parked the van at the end of the street and handed out the food and drinks to everyone, creating a makeshift block party, while JJ made his way house to house to see how he could help with the damage. 

You try to listen as your neighbors discuss the volume of the thunder and share stories of past storms, but you couldn’t help the way your eyes kept drifting back to JJ. He looked so strong and capable, lifting heavy branches, boarding up broken windows, clearing debris. Every neighbor he helped was left laughing, their smiles wide as he eased their worry by just being him. 

Once it starts to get dark, you and JJ invite everyone over for a bonfire and cookout in your backyard. You’re sitting by the fire, watching with adoration as JJ plays tag football with all the kids. He purposely let them win, making them feel like they were ten feet tall. They all dogpile on him in excitement and you laugh along with all the other adults, shaking your head lovingly.

One of the young moms in the neighborhood you had come to know fairly well sits next to you, smiling knowingly as she watches you watch him.

“It’s really none of my business,” she says to you quietly, “but why aren’t you two married?”

You don’t look away from JJ as you respond, “y’know, I had a reason, but I can’t seem to remember what it was.”

After everyone has left, the yard is a mess of solo cups and the fire still burns. You look around and sigh, you’ve been cooking and helping people all day, and you didn’t realize how exhausted you were after getting so little sleep last night. You start to pick up, yawning as you bend down to pick up something off the ground. You feel JJ’s arms around your waist, hugging you tightly. You lean back into him and sway as he places a kiss on your cheek.

“Loved watching you today,” he says, his voice low. “Cooking for everyone, making sure everyone was okay. You’re such a good person, baby.”

You smile at his praise. “I learned it from you,” you say sweetly.

“Nah, babe, you got that the wrong way around,” he laughed. “You think the me you met five years ago would’ve been out here helping people clean up? I would’ve taken one look around and gotten the hell out of here.”

You smile at this, knowing he was right, picturing eighteen-year-old JJ grabbing his board and peeling out of the neighborhood at the first sight of trouble.

“You made me a better man,” he says, his tone serious now.

You lift one of his hands up to your lips, kissing his knuckles affectionately. He holds you for a long while as you look up at the stars, the night clear and calm after the storm.

“I drew you a bath,” he breaks the silence.

“Thank you, but I have to clean up,” you say, breaking from his hold and looking around the messy yard.

He just takes the trash from your hand and shakes his head, “I’ve got it, love. You don’t want your bath to get cold and waste the water.”

You smile at him, knowing his play. “You turned it on before telling me so I couldn’t say no.”

He doesn’t deny it, just kisses you on the cheek and starts picking up more empty paper plates and cups.

The bath water was perfect when you got in, your favorite candle already lit and some soft music playing. Your heart squeezed at JJ’s thoughtfulness as you relaxed into the warm water and let it wash away the day.

From your spot in the tub, you could see JJ in the yard, lit by the moon as he poured water over the fire to put it out. You felt suddenly emotional, overwhelmed by the deepest affection for him. You thought about his comment that you’d made him a better man. It was true that he’d grown so much in the last five years, but you couldn’t take all the credit. Maybe you were the reason he’d begun the journey, but he got to this destination all on his own. No one worked harder than him, or loved harder, or played harder. He provided for you, while still acknowledging how hard you worked, too. He encouraged all your dreams, listened to all of your anxious ramblings, laughed at all your stupid jokes. He never missed the chance to tell you how smart, beautiful, and special you were. He was selfless, always putting your needs before his. Even when you’d fight, he never walked away, never let the night end without trying to come to an understanding, only sleeping on the couch when he knew what you needed most was space. He’s proven to you over and over that he’s become the man you need.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear the bedroom door open and shut. You hear JJ shuffle around in the bedroom for a bit before settling, surely not wanting to interrupt your relaxation. It hits you all at once, finally finding the answer he’s been wanting from you for years.

You drain the tub and stand at the sink,running your hands through your hair and dabbing on a little lipgloss. You rub vanilla scented lotion into your skin, JJ’s favorite. You walk over to the walk-in closet he built for you, digging through the drawers until you find a new pair of pink lace panties and its matching bra and garter set that he hasn’t seen you in yet.

When you slowly open the bathroom door and step into the bedroom, JJ is sitting on the bed in only his boxers, leaning against the headboard as he scrolls on his phone.

“Babe, you need to see these videos of the swells this morning,” he tells you, eyes still fixed to his phone as you start to walk slowly toward the bed. “We gotta get out there tomorrow.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” you purr.

He looks up the sound of your sultry voice, eyes immediately widening at the sight of you in your lingerie. He sits up, moving to the side of the bed and throwing his phone behind him, not even caring when it bounces off the mattress and onto the floor with a crash.

“Damnnnn,” he whistles at you playfully, making your cheeks heat up as you giggle.

“You like it?” You do a little twirl for him.

He looks you up and down hungrily, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. He hooks his finger and motions for you, “get over here.”

A rush of excitement flows through you, straight to your core, and you saunter over to him. He spreads his knees apart so you can stand in front of him, between his legs. He looks up at you, his eyes burying into yours as he slowly reaches his hand up to rest on your hip.

“I love it,” he places a soft kiss onto your stomach and you feel goosebumps shoot up all over your skin. He kisses you a few more times before pulling back slightly to mumble, “it’s too bad I’m gonna have to rip it off.”

You moan softly at the feeling of his soft lips grazing over the sensitive skin right above the waistband of your panties. Before he can go any further, you grab his face in both hands and lift his gaze back up to yours.

“You first,” you whisper. 

JJ’s lips spread in a wicked smile, and you instinctively press the pads of your thumbs into his dimples. You lean down to place a quick kiss to his lips before saying, “lay down.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says eagerly as he scrambles back to lean against the headboard.

You slowly climb over him, your knees on either side of his lap, and ever so slightly drop your hips, your core ghosting over his clothed cock. At the slightest contact, he groans, unable to help himself but attach his lips to your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin for a moment, before running his tongue over the same spot.

“Mmmm, you taste like vanilla,” you smile at the warmth in his words.

“Put on that lotion you like,” you explain as you grind down on him again, just a little harder this time.

“God,” he groans. “You’re so good to me.”

“Not as good as you are to me,” you smile down at him as you start rolling your hips in a steady rhythm. He throws his head back, reveling in the feeling of you, fingers digging into your hips to guide you to continue grinding. You place soft, wet kisses on his neck and chest, offering him a praise between each one. 

“You make me so happy…treat me so well…fuck me so good…make me come so hard…make me so fucking horny…”

His dick twitches in his boxers at the sound of your dirty talk. You continue moving your kisses down his abs, backing up your body to reach lower with each one. 

“Fuck, angel,” he chokes out, “you got me so hard.”

You look up at him with a smirk, you’re between his legs now, face inches from the waistband of his boxers, you arch your back so your ass sticks up behind you, giving him a perfect angle of your body. 

“Can I taste you, J?” You pout, as if he’d ever say no.

“Mhm, do whatever you want,” he pants, brushing your hair back from your face and tucking it behind your ear. Even when he has you in this position, he’s sweet, taking care of you.

“All I want is to make you happy,” you tell him, your intent was to sound sexy, but you can’t help the bit of emotion that creeps in, realizing how true your words are on so many levels.

He sits up when he notices the way your brow is drawn together in sincerity. He kisses your forehead and whispers, “all you gotta do to make me happy is exist.”

This man is perfect, you think, a huge grin on your face. You kiss him back once before laying your hand gently on his chest so he’ll lay back. You keep your hand over his heart as the other pulls down the waistband of his boxers. His dick springs free the second the fabric is out of the way. Even after all these years, your stomach still flips with excitement when you see his cock hard and needy for you. He places one hand over yours on his chest, while his other hand finds its way back into your hair.  

You wrap your fingers around his shaft gently and he sucks in a sharp breath, overly sensitive from how worked up you’ve got him. You drop a kiss to the tip, leaving a dab of lipgloss behind, quick to brush it off with your thumb, the motion making his hips buck up.

You know he’s trying to be patient, not to rush, afraid to pressure you. Your heart swells at his considerate restraint. You reward his patience by flattening your tongue and dragging it from his base to his tip, swirling it over the tip a few times before bringing his cockhead into your lips.

He looks down at you, eyes wide, watching the way your mouth accepts him. You moan softly at the taste of him and it reverberates through his body, making his head fall back against the headboard with a bang.

“Are you ok, love?” You ask nervously.

He laughs and shakes his head at his own clumsiness, “I’m fine baby, you just got me so damn worked up, your mouth feels so good.” 

You smile in satisfaction and return your mouth to his tip. You work him into your mouth slowly, inch by inch, trying to relax your throat as best you can. Even though you’ve done this many times, you’ve never gotten used to the size of him. He knows it, too, looking at you with concern as you start to gag a bit, only two-thirds of the way down.

“Don’t hurt yourself, it’s okay if you stop there,” you pull off of him and he thinks you’re done, but you just shush him as you run your hand up and down his shaft a few times before diving back in. 

When he’s finally all the way in, his tip nudging the back of your throat, you moan to disguise your gag so he knows you’re okay. He seems to relent, tugging slightly at the roots of your hair and gripping your hand harder, you hollow your cheeks and start to bob up and down.

“Shhhit,” he says through clenched teeth. “That’s perfect, baby. You’re so fucking perfect.”

You keep up the pace for a couple minutes, JJ a whining mess beneath you. You adored the sound of him letting go and feeling good. He worked so hard, and always tried to prove how strong he was, nothing felt better than making him finally relax. 

When you moaned around him again, he bucked his hips up subconsciously.

“Wait,” he sat up, “wait wait wait.”

You pulled off of him, startled, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s so good, too good,” he rushed to assure you. “Not gonna last much longer.”

You smiled pridefully, “where do you want to finish, baby?”

“Inside, need to be inside you, please,” he used the hand he was holding to pull you up to him, making you laugh as you fall onto his chest.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” you giggled, placing a swift kiss on his lips.

“Yeah?” He taunts as he flips you onto your back gently, slipping his finger under the strap of your bra. “You finally gonna let me rip these off of you?”

You pull your lip between your teeth and nod, watching JJ’s hands move swiftly to rid you of the lacy fabric. Once he had your bra and panties off, he kissed you again, and you let out a little sigh into his mouth. He studied your face as his hand dipped between your legs, two fingers gliding through your wetness. You whimpered and twitched beneath him as he grazed your clit.

“All this for me?” He asked, well aware of the answer.

“Yes,” you grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself, the pressure of his fingers against you so good your legs were starting to shake. “I’m yours, J. Forever.”

His nostrils flared slightly at the sound of the words, never needing to be inside you quite as much as he did in that moment. He used your wetness on his hand to get his dick ready, sliding in slowly as your back arched while you gasped at the sensation.

“Forever, huh?” He asks as he sinks into you.

You nod desperately, pulling a wicked grin from him as he finally bottoms out. He starts to rock in and out of you, slowly at first, picking up the pace when you wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him.

“I love you so much,” he says so earnestly your heart aches, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I love you too, you have no idea,” you tell him.

When he shifts his hips slightly so his pelvis rubs over your clit, you clench around him, crying his name in pleasure.

“I think I have some idea,” he teases.

You squeeze him again, harder, making the smile fall from his lips as he groans, jaw clenched.

As JJ picks up his pace, brushing over your clit with each deep thrust, both of you moan, your breaths becoming frenzied and your sweat mixing together everywhere your skin touches.

His words are a tangled mess of I love yous and fucks, yours a chant of oh my gods and his name. You squeeze him again, your orgasm approaching. He watches your face, eyes shut tight and lips parted, your hair a halo around you as he presses you into the pillows with each stroke. It’s the most beautiful sight, he thinks, the most precious person in the world, completely lost in the joy he’s giving her.

He can’t help himself when he whispers, “marry me.”

Your eyes shoot open, meeting his with surprise, and he wishes he hadn’t said it, that he had waited until later like he did every other night, when you were falling asleep and too tired to scold him for his impulsiveness. 

But then, you reach your hand up to caress his face, running your thumb over his bottom lip, looking at him with so much love and affection.

“Yes,” you say.

He stops moving into you and leans away from your face a bit, positive that he misheard you. 

“Wh-what?” He sounds concerned, like maybe he was dreaming and none of this was really happening.

“I wanna marry you, JJ,” you repeat, your voice sure and unwavering. You caress his cheek with your thumb, waiting for his mind to catch up with his ears. 

When it finally does, he places a kiss on your palm and sinks into you again, moving slowly at first in his dazed state, before you lift your hips, reminding him how you like it. He pounds into you, the sounds of skin slapping and heavy breaths filling the room as you near your high.

“You gonna be my wife?” JJ asks, watching your face contort with pure bliss. 

“Yes!” You cry, the wave of your orgasm crashing into you hard, your clenching walls pulling JJ’s from him as he fills you. 

That night, while JJ held you like he always did, your back to his chest, he’s uncharacteristically quiet. You turn in his arms so you can look at him, trying to read his face.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“I’m trying to figure out how long I have to wait before I can start asking if we can have a baby,” he admits, his tongue poking into his cheek.

You laugh loudly, swatting his shoulder.

“You really don’t give up, do you Maybank?” 

“On you? Never.”

a/n: in which nat takes a break from all the rafe angst to write some jj fluff. I saw some of the jj girlies say he needs more fics, so i'd thought I'd try writing for him and I had soooo much fun!! also I fear short 'n sweet has a death grip on my one-shots, oh well.