#i also have very wide and large feet that i want to allow to spread out as much as possible haha

[hairtusk]

hi chaya! i love your blog and your style🤍 what shoes are staple pieces in your wardrobe? i am trying to find a good new pair of shoes that are comfortable for walking while also looking nice🤍

hello ! 💌 this is such a lovely question, and I'll definitely try to help - it might be bit of a let-down though, as in my day-to-day life i'm extremely committed to the 'stocks & docs lifestyle 😭 these are the three pairs that i wear in rotation when dressing casually:

however, a few months ago i bought a cheap pair of clogs / mules (on the left) to see of i'd actually wear them - turns out they're great, and i'm going to upgrade them to a pair of (again, birkenstock 😭) boston clogs when i get paid:

also, quite excitingly (to me at least) i've recently been making forays into trainers / sneakers - i bought this pair (secondhand) that i'm waiting to arrive. i'm very into scandinavian street fashion, and i thought these would fit that and also be very comfortable and practical:

i'm interested in investing in some blundstone boots before winter, too !

i hope this was helpful in some way ! 💌

[distantdarlings]

EXPOSED // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x AFAB!Gender Neutral Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested - based on this* You were born with giant wings reminiscent of an Angel’s. Though you weren’t technically one, Theodore Nott couldn’t help but compare you to and treat you like one.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! PIV (not super specified though due to GN!Reader), Oral Sex (GN!Reader Receiving), Top!Theo, Bottom!Reader, very slight voyeurism (if you squint), Reader has wings (with sexual feeling), language (lmk if I missed any!)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Haunted - BEYONCÉ

- - -

By the time you arrived back at your dormitory every day, your shoulders were so sore, you were ready to just knock yourself out. The continuation of your shoulders as they spread out past your body and out into the air cramped constantly when you performed that concealment spell you’d been forced to learn the moment you started school.

Even being the minority compared to the whole world, the student body at Hogwarts were not always the most accepting of different people–especially when you had enormous whitened wings that stretched out widely above your head. Spread out completely, they reached nearly ten feet across. They were your greatest inconvenience, but also your greatest love. There was little you took better care of than your wings. They were strong and white like new teeth–not perfectly pearly, but not as dingy as some of the other fliers you’d met.

You could remember when you were younger, when your father—who was also a flier—had taken you to meet some of your distant family near where they lived at the top end of the world.

There, it was freezing all year-round and the majority of the community adorned wings just as tall and strong as yours, if not moreso. You were jealous that you were always expected to hide your wings away from the world—even as a little one—when your father had been able to spread his as far as he wanted to, wherever he wanted to.

It had left a bit of a dent on your self-esteem, always having to hide a large part of yourself to fit in with others. But, as you aged, you’d come to accept it for what it was. Besides, everytime you visited your family on holiday breaks, both you and your father would take long flights early in the morning when the sun had not yet risen above the horizon and had only settled deep within the sky’s cover of clouds.

Flying with your father like that was some of your favorite memories. You were certain it wasn’t as enjoyable for him, simply because he rarely hid his wings. For you, it was as if you were stretching out joints that had been cramped up for years. Still, you were grateful for those little moments.

With a tilt of your head in each direction to relieve any built-up tension, you began to undress. You let your robe slide down your arms and into the floor. Then, you loosened your tie, undid the buttons on your shirt, and pulled your bottoms down your legs, allowing them all to fall away and into the same pile with your robe.

You whispered the reversal of the concealment spell that you had used so many times before, and closed your eyes. The warmth of magic circled your back, spreading heated tendrils in and around your wings. You could feel the feathered things slowly rising to life. You sighed in relief at the sensation, letting every joint within them pop aloud.

With a yawn, you reached your arms over your head and stretched hugely, letting your wings mimic the movements. You groaned, relieved that you were finally able to let them loose.

The only reason you weren’t frightened to let them out in your dormitory was because none of your roommates would be back until later on this evening. Every year, you purposefully planned your schedule accordingly so you’d have a few hours to yourself in the dorm room, specifically so you could have your wings out.

The only other times you were able to have them out besides when you were flying with your father on vacation, was when you were completely alone in the bathrooms or when the curtains were pulled shut around your bed. Other than that, they were tightly and magically adhered against your spine.

You weren’t sure exactly how the spell worked but it didn’t hurt until the sixth or seventh hour of having it applied. At that point, you’d be getting sore. Maybe the spell actually did fold your wings together… Hm, you weren’t sure. According to your father, there were no lasting effects of the spell on your wings or your ability to fly. But, still, it made you a bit nervous to think about.

With a small sigh, you bent over to gather up your crumpled up clothes. You tossed them into the dirty laundry hamper slid up against the end of your bed and prepared yourself to preen your wings. It had been entirely too long since you’d tended to them. You could hardly pride yourself on the care you gave them if you weren’t going to keep up with their cleaning schedule.

You settled yourself on the edge of your bed where the curtains were separated. The cold satin duvet slid against your naked legs. The fabric of your bottoms kept your hips warm as you pulled your preening comb from the small bedside dresser.

You crossed your legs and pulled the length of your left wing as far as it would go, across your thighs. The soft feathers cascaded over your skin as you began to meticulously comb at them, ensuring that every single one was treated.

Oftentimes, you’d sink into a sort of daze as you handled your preening—one filled with straying thoughts and light hums here and there. You’d found that, in the past, you became sort of deaf to the real world as you worked. Your focus was so intense that you didn’t hear little sounds, like that of a quiet door opening behind you.

And this time, your humming was just loud enough, and your combing was just distracting enough that you heard nothing as an intruder pushed the dormitory door open and slipped inside. And you didn’t hear the small gasp he let out as he saw your glorious wings. And you didn’t hear the confusion rattling through his brain as he was certain that this was the room his friend told him to meet her in to pick up his books. And you certainly didn’t hear his light footsteps as he creeped up behind you, so curious as to what he was looking at.

He’d never seen something so beautiful and majestic, except on some of the long extinct, mythical creatures he studied in class.

Though he had some inkling of self control, he couldn’t stop himself from approaching you ever so slowly, fingers outstretched and wanting desperately to touch your wings. They had to be fake, right? Some kind of costume?

Still, he couldn’t resist. It was as if your wings had cast some kind of spell on him, dragging him in so severely. He needed to touch them.

Then his fingers were brushing against the soft curtain of feathers, feeling the way the edge of his skin tingled. You gasped sharply and turned without thinking of your nearly nude body.

You made eye contact with a boy you’d recognized much too quickly. Your wings shot across your body to conceal your naked skin.

“Theo! What are you doing here?” you gasped, trying to back away from him and farther up your bed.

“I was coming to pick up some books…” his words trailed off. He appeared dazed and completely fixated on your wings. You couldn’t help but be frightened at what he might say. This was exactly the horrifying moment you’d been having nightmares about since you were young.

“May I touch them again?” he breathed, finally tearing his eyes away. He looked at you, his lips parting.

“What?” you asked, completely in shock. You were surprised that he wasn’t entirely disturbed by the sight before him. All your life, you’d been taught to hide them from people who wouldn’t understand—which just happened to be nearly everyone. You’d imagined the things that would be said once you were exposed a million times over, but you never imagined they’d be things of wonder and awe.

Still, Theo stared at you with nothing but amazement. His cheeks were dusted with pink flecks and his eyes shone with the light seeping through the windows. Suddenly, you found your wings relaxing a bit.

“Er…yes…I suppose you can,” you said, unsure of your words. Your voice trembled ever so slightly with the breaths quickly filling your lungs than pushing out.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, seeming to snap out of his daze slightly. “I didn’t mean to pressure you. It’s just…they’re beautiful. I’ve never seen something so angelic.” He chuckled at his use of the last word. You were shocked. Never, had you been compared to your separate winged counterparts. Angels were real, but you weren’t exactly flitting about Heaven. You just had wings. Descended from Angels? Perhaps. But not an Angel.

“You’re not frightened of them?” you squeaked, knees clutched tightly against your chest.

“Frightened?” he laughed breathlessly. “Why would I be? They’re incredible.”

You laughed a bit. You didn’t even know what to say. This was going nothing like how you’d always expected it to, and that was a very good thing. And, how much more perfect could you have hoped it would go, than if Theodore Nott—one of the most gorgeous boys in school—was calling you beautiful amongst it all. You could’ve cried.

Slowly, you extended your right wing out to him, while still keeping your body covered with your left. Mesmerized, you watched as he curled his fingers in and around the feathers. It was a light, easy touch—almost like a tickle. The feathers themselves didn’t really have any sensation, just what was pulled from the follicle when it was tugged on a bit.

If you accidentally pulled one out, it only felt like pulling a hair out of your scalp, except for when you got closer to where they sprouted from your back. They were a bit more sensitive up there, as if you were pulling multiple hairs out at once. Other than that, they didn’t really have much of a feeling, besides when they were sore from being cooped up.

At least, that’s what had been your reality for the entirety of the time you’d been on earth, until Theodore Nott waltzed in and wrapped his long fingers around a handful of feathers and tugged at them.

At the feeling of him grabbing on to them and clenching his knuckles until they turned white, you noticed that an uncomfortably familiar sensation pooled rapidly into your stomach. The edges of your vision dripped with black ink spots and your lips fell open in a gasp.

At your reaction, he let go just as quickly as he’d gripped them and backed away. “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“N-no,” you panted. “Just let me catch my breath.” The remnants of the pleasure that had built in your stomach melted downwards. Heat circled between your legs, provoking more desire.

“Did it hurt?” he asked once more, head dipped down towards you and genuinely concerned.

“No, it felt… really good, actually,” you gasped.

“What, like a massage or something?” he asked. You said nothing—just glanced up at him, then back at the ground. Unsure if he was getting the memo or not, you dropped your outstretched wing into a more comfortable position and cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Er, maybe it’d be best if you—”

“Wait, I’m sorry. Please don’t make me leave. I’d love to touch you again. I won’t do that again, though.”

Your eyes met his again, confusion swirling in your mind. “Well, I’m not a zoo exhibit. I’d like for you to leave now.”

“Please, that’s not what I meant. I’m just fascinated, that's all.”

“I’m so glad I could be an object of fascination for a moment, but—”

“Hey! Stop that. I like you, okay?”

The two of you stopped moving. No sound echoed throughout the room, almost as if the air itself was holding its breath, just as you were. Your eyes widened as they stared at Theo, searching within his to see if he was joking. Surely, he could not mean that.

“I don’t understand,” you spoke. “You’ve never said more than three words at a time to me, then you see I’m slightly different, and you’re suddenly interested in me. That doesn’t really add up.”

“That’s not it at all,” Theo sighed. “I was coming here to talk to you. To ask you to go to dinner with me. I’ve had a crush on you for a while. It had nothing to do with your wings. I would have just asked you out to dinner if I hadn’t seen them.”

“I thought you were coming here to pick up books?”

“That was just an excuse,” he sighed. “I panicked and didn’t want to ask you on a date when I’d just burst in on you like that.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” you laughed humorlessly. He smiled just a bit.

“I really do think they’re beautiful,” he whispered. “But they are absolutely nothing compared to you.”

That heat from earlier made itself known again, echoing loudly in your abdomen. Your pulse picked up as the compliment settled in your ears. The look he gave you was one of utter adoration—one you couldn’t believe you’d never noticed him giving you before. He couldn’t believe it either, because every time he looked at you, it was a look of nothing less than love.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” you said. “Generally, people aren’t so accepting of them.” You stretched your wing back out and let it drape across the bed in between the two of you. He sat down on the edge and let the tailend of the feathers drape across his knees. The intimacy of the moment made you flush.

“That’s stupid,” he scoffed. “They’re wonderful. The only reason anyone would think otherwise would be because they’re jealous.”

His fingers caressed softly through the feathers, tracing the outlines of them with a gentle touch. As you watched his movements, you could feel the affection blossoming in your chest. You’d never had someone so genuinely interested in you. It seemed that he cared, but not just because of what made you different. He seemed to care about you as well.

He had begun to experiment a bit, weaving his fingers through the feathers, tracing along the bottom edges, scratching his nails along the follicles. Every once and a while, a light chill would run through your skin at the feeling of him touching you and you’d shudder. The two of you would giggle quietly at your reaction before he returned to them.

He slowly worked his way upwards, exploring ways of which he could touch you. His hands moved higher, gently spreading the expanse of your wing upwards and admiring the full span of it.

Before long, he had scooted so close that his hips were brushing yours. Your other wing still covered your body, but the thought of him being so close to your naked skin had made another shudder go through you.

“Did that tickle?” he whispered, looking back to you.

“No,” you whispered. His eyes flickered to your lips, then yours to his. Then, his eyes returned to your wings. His fingers came down to trace the highest edge of them all the way down to where they met between your shoulder blades. His fingers slid between where they sunk into your back. He traced suddenly down the expanse of your spine just above the end of your tailbone. You gasped lightly. Obviously, the sensation on your skin was much stronger than your wings.

“Sorry, was that too much?” he asked.

“No.”

His index finger bent at the knuckle and traced along your back to your side, where the tip of your other wing ended. He watched as chills raised along your skin. You said nothing. Then, his hand flattened against your side. He cupped you warmly, feeling the way his large hand dwarfed your side. His thumb traced the edge of your feathers.

“Can I see the rest of you?” he whispered.

“What?” you gasped, not wanting to get your hopes up with what you’d just heard him say.

“Can I please see the rest of you?” His eyes were locked on your lips until he finished his words. They flicked back up to yours, aquamarine swirling against the light. He refused to look away.

You kept your mouth shut, but slowly pulled your wing away from yourself, exposing the rest of your body to his eyes. He looked down, drinking in the expanse of your entire body. The only bit of coverage you were granted were the bottoms still hung around your hips.

His thumb stretched slowly to trace the underside of your breast. He watched every reaction you granted him—little gasps and parts of your lips. He watched the chills continue to spread across your bare arms and legs. Soon, he followed his previous path on the opposite side of your body with his other hand. He held you comfortably between his strong hands.

“Is this okay?” he asked. And when you nodded, he gently pushed you back onto your pillows. Then he was over you, hovering with one strong arm and tracing your body from shoulder to hip with a curious thumb. He absentmindedly shyed over one nipple with a barely there touch. Your lips parted at the feeling, desperately desiring more.

“Theo, I—”

“Should I stop?” he asked, immediately pulling his hand back to watch your face.

“No!” you nearly shouted. “No, please don’t stop. I was going to ask if you—if I could kiss you.”

He smiled in response to your words. His hand returned to your body and he lowered himself onto his elbow beside your head. His face was much closer to yours now, his hands more confident. His nose suddenly brushed against yours, attempting to entice you a bit.

“Theo, before anything happens between us…,” you started. “Can you promise me that you aren’t just interested because of my wings?”

“Like I said earlier, even if I hadn’t seen them, I would have just asked you out to dinner,” he said, smiling sweetly. You returned his smile, a bit of excitement blooming in your chest at the current situation you rested in. This was everything you’d been dreaming of for months.

Then you were tilting your head up and pressing your lips to his. He responded immediately with a loving and warm kiss that encompassed the entirety of your thoughts. Your fingers curled into his uniform shirt, begging him closer to you. At your need for him, a small groan echoed against your lips as he tore away from you and roughly tore his shirt apart.

You helped him separate the pieces of fabric and slide them down the length of his arms, while he leaned back over you, strong body protecting you from all angles. Your legs split to envelop him between your thighs. With a bit of stray confidence, you wrapped them around his hips, letting them settle comfortably against him.

His lips pressed against your neck, kissing wetly along the length of your jaw. Your fingers curled into his dark hair, revelling in how soft it was. He was everything you’d ever imagined. Merlin, you wanted him so badly.

“Say the words,” he whispered against your skin. “Say the words and I’ll take you right here. Please, baby. Please say yes.”

“Yes, Theo. Please.” Your words came out in a breathless moan.

You were barely able to get the words out before his lips reattached to your neck. He leaned over to one side, completely balancing his weight on his left arm, while his right expertly undid his belt. The clinking of the metal fastener echoed in the empty space, building anticipation in your stomach.

He whispered a spell and the lock on the door in the corner clunked shut. When he turned back to you, he rose onto his knees and slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your bottoms.

Slowly, he slid them down the length of your legs, maintaining seething eye contact the entire time. Chills spread across your skin and your wings bristled beneath his gaze. When he saw the reaction his touch gave your wingspan, he smirked devilishly. You shuddered.

Once you were exposed to him, he pressed gentle kisses to the insides of your thighs, rising higher and higher until he was face-to-face with your core. The room held its breath again as you braced yourself against the pillow, anticipating his touch.

Your wings were laid comfortably beside you, just as they were when you slept. But the moment his lips made contact with you, they were soaring off the bed and spreading out to their full expanse.

He hummed against you, vibrations traveling from your core up through your stomach. You gasped aloud at the sensation, grasping at the blankets around you.

With a bolt of confidence, you reached down and trapped his curls into your hands, fingernails lightly scratching against his scalp. He hummed again at the feeling.

He marveled at your wings spread out so gracefully, watching them closely with each ministration of his tongue. You watched as he stared up at you—nothing but adoration swam in his eyes.

He couldn’t believe what the sight of your body was doing to him. He so obviously understood why Angels were revered as Heavenly creatures now. If he had seen you with no further context, he too would have immediately bowed to worship.

When he strung you along far enough that your hips were beginning to rise off the bed, he stopped and pulled himself away from you. He returned to his previous position of hovering over you and placed his lips to yours.

The flavor of yourself was slathered across his mouth and spread to yours. His tongue traced along yours, glazing your tastebuds with his own.

With his lips pressed against yours, he slid his unfastened belt and pants down his legs, revealing toned muscles layered with golden skin. He wore dark briefs that framed him deliciously well.

He leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before lining himself up with your entrance. Though he’d granted no adjustment with his fingers beforehand, you weren't going to deny the stretch he provided, no matter how much it stung.

He pressed into you, allowing you to feel every inch of the expansion of your entrance. Fire blossomed below your waist as your fingers dug into his shoulders.

At his realization of how tight you were, he reached beneath the two of you and began to gently massage your clit, coaxing you more and more open.

With the combination of feeling running through your body, your mouth fell open and your eyes fluttered shut. Without a doubt, he was the biggest you’d ever experienced.

Once he was fully settled within you, he gave you a few seconds to breathe. You pressed your lips lovingly to his bare shoulder, reveling in the warmth of his skin.

His chest was pressed to yours and your thighs wrapped around his waist so tightly, you were unsure if you could ever part from him.

Once he began to move, though, you knew you’d never let him go. He built up a gentle pace, working you wider and wider. Once you were fully open to him, his length hit every spot within you no others were able to hit.

Your breath was coming out of you in deep, whining exhales as he pounded his hips into yours. His lips pressed gentle kisses along your jawline with every thrust.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Every part of you.” You moaned aloud at his words. Somehow, he knew exactly what you needed to hear to become more and more confident.

You’d never felt so loved in your life.

Skillfully, he built up every single feeling in your body until it coiled tightly within your stomach. You breathlessly said his name, warning of your impending finish.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he moaned against your throat. He reached upward and shoved his fingers through your feathers, parting them higher and higher, until he had a handful and gripped at them as hard as he could.

Your finish came crashing down around you. Your body rose off of the bed to meet with his and every thrust he worked you through. White flashes seared across your vision, branding the skyline with his face.

At the clenching of your own body, his finish was forced along farther and farther until he released within you. He came with a high-pitched moan into your shoulder. Your fingers remained squeezed into his shoulders until he weakened and laid down on top of you.

The two of you laughed breathlessly at the remaining aftershocks that coursed through your body. His fingers traced lovingly up the length of your exposed arm and swirled throughout your feathers.

“I don’t think anyone has ever focused so much on me,” you whispered.

“Have you ever shown them to anyone else?” he asked.

“No, just my family.”

“Well, I’m grateful you’re letting me see them. I’m not sure how I went so long without seeing your beautiful body. I shouldn’t have waited to come talk to you.”

You smiled sweetly and brushed a stray piece of hair away from his forehead to expose his bright eyes. Despite the amount of time you both waited to talk to each other, you were grateful you had taken the time to do it now. Theo was the only person thus far that had seen you instead of only your wings, and you were so thankful for that.

Then for the rest of the afternoon, you dozed with him, feeling his hands caressing your skin rather than your wings.

- - -

Tag List: @lilymurphy03 , @mypolicemanharryyy , @angelfrombeneth , @clairesjointshurt , @bunbunbl0gs , @acornacreacure , @niktwazny303 , @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw , @yhiiil , @xxrougefangxx , @thatblackthorn , @robinyx , @starsval , @jolly4holly , @blvebanisters , @chgrch , @ilovehotmenandwoman , @smutnyrobocikwrakiecie , @synicaljah , @abaker74

[realfunfan]

"Scooby Doo that shit, dawg"

Inspired by this tictok

Hanging out in the wood of Pandora was a normal thing for Na'vi children. Most would stay close to home, having a respectful fear of Pandora and her dangerous wildlife. Others, like the four oldest children of Jake Sully, preferred the wonders of the deep forest. Even with their human friend, Spider, the kids loved to get together and make their way to a beautiful pond or a hidden field of glowing flowers. Kiri especially loved to lay in patches of moss and take her 'Eywa naps' as Lo'ak called them. The three boys would shoot their bows and try and catch the biggest anything. Little Mo would sit and braid flower crowns or small beading projects her mom would help her start.

The children would be ok for the most part. It helped that all the kids had human-made com devices that allowed them to speak to each other through an earpiece and a choker. They even made a clicking device on Mo'teya's choker so she could be included in the conversation, too. They would spread out and hunt small game and even each other if they were bored enough. They were respectful of any and all creatures they came across, moving swiftly out of the way of talioang, and 'angtsìk. They would, safely, watch nantang packs move through the forest. All of the children had such wonderful memories of their adventures.

One story, in particular, stood out.

Four children stood on the bank of a large body of water, eyes scanning the deeper parts. They looked for many different types of fish species, calling out each by name. It was a contest between them, who was able to spot the most. Kiri was quickly taking the lead with several species. Spider sat closest to Kiri while Lo'ak quickly made the argument that they were cheating. "Bro, you're helping her!" Lo'ak waved his hands. "No, bro. You just suck. You can't say we're cheating every time she does better than you!" Spider laughed. As the two bickered, Neteyam was pointing out movement on the left side of the bank to Mo'teya.

"See that, little sister? It looks like a young tspìng." Nateyam pulled his sister close so she could see what he did. They watched a juvenile tsping, standing at about 8 feet tall, walk through the weeds of the bank. The animal's yellow-orange coloring stood out in the sun against the dark green of the flora. It walked with careful grace, eyes scanning the bank for anything small enough to eat.

Mo'teya was mesmerized as the animal leaned down and took a drink from the lake. Water dripped from its beak and it chomped like it had caught some prey. She watched the purple stripes ripple as it swallowed.

"What did you guys find?" Kiri crouched with her brother and sister, finally seeing the tsping. "Oh, it's beautiful," Kiri looked at Mo'teya, nodding. She nodded with her, saying, 'Very. Can we get closer?'

The two looked at their older brother, waiting for his say. Neteyam frowned and did their father's signature head tilt, unsure what to say. Tsping usually just ran away from Na'vi. The adults would scare tsping easily, but they were children. The creature was taller than all of them and as a juvenile, its behavior was unmanageable. Still, Neteyam wanted his sisters to enjoy all of Eywa's gifts. It also so happens his two little sisters were blessed by Eywa.

"Sure, we can get closer. But I need you two to stay close to me, do not make any sudden moves, ok?" Both girls nodded and smiled widely. Behind them, Lo'ak and Spider were jeering at each other, still arguing.

The three kids crawled through the thick flora, slowly moving weeds and tall grass out of their way. The tsping had not noticed them yet. It continued to graze and look out over the lake. Neteyam held up a fist to tell the girls to stop, waiting for the tsping to dip its head again. 'Ok, here is close enough,' Neteyam rolled onto his side to talk to the girls. Both nodded and eased onto their stomachs, silently cheering as the tsping walked a little closer. The scene was beautiful, with the sunlight dancing on the water. The kids pressed close together, watching.

"Neteyyamm! Kiiiiri!"

Lo'ak and Spider's loud voices sang into the air, causing the tsping's head to dart their way. It made a screech while flapping the little wings at its side. All three kids flinched farther into the grass. 'Do not move,' Mo'teya made clicks on her com. They held their breath as the tsping stalked closer to Spider's shouts. As soon as it walked past, Neteyam got up into a crouch. "No, no. Wait," He whispered when Mo tried to get up. He watched the tsping continue to stalk before letting out a warning call.

Lo'ak looked up at Neteyam's call, eyes scanning for his brother. "Where are they?" Spider asked, waving his arms. Lo'ak shrugged. "I don't know, bro. They didn't leave." He didn't see his siblings walk back to the Ikran who stood not far away, snoozing. Where could they have gone?

Suddenly, a loud screech made Spider jump to his left. Lo'ak grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to his side. A tsping standing at about 8 feet tall, rushed them. "Shit, bro, run!" Spider yelled as they took off into the woods.

They ran past tall trees and thick bushes, scaring away plants and bugs. They even jumped tall roots and crawled under logs and between stones. The tsping did not let up. Lo'ak tripped for a moment before reaching out and grabbing a rock. "Fuck, cuz!" Lo'ak screamed when the tsping tried to bite Spider. He dropped to his knees, dodging the bite, but falling behind Lo'ak. Spider ended up pinned to a tree, mask fogging up from his heaving breaths.

The tsping ran at Spider, mouth open, ready to clamp on when Kiri jumped out from behind the tree, hissing and spitting. She launched a rock and it hit the animal on the beak, making it stop. It shook its head in pain. She didn't waste any time grabbing Spider and dragging him away.

Neteyam ran past the tsping, going straight for Lo'ak. After grabbing him, he yelled, "Are you ok, yeah?" Lo'ak nodded, still panting too heavily to speak. "Ok, run. Run!" Neteyam pushed him as the tsping got its bearings. It darted after the brothers, snapping at their heels.

Mo'teya clicked on her com, telling everyone to climb the trees, get up off the ground. If the tsping could follow them up there, then Eywa help them. But they needed to try. She wrapped her hands around a strong vine and pulled herself up. "We are in a tree. Mo, we're to your left." Kiri waved to her sister. She held onto Spider's arm tightly, leaving bruises. They both heaved, eyes and ears waiting for a message from the boys.

Mo'teya clicked back, telling them she was also in a safe spot. She didn't get a reply from either of her brothers, and it worried her a bit. They would be ok, right? If shown any real aggression, tsping should run away. Plus, Lo'ak and Neteyam were armed. They could defend each other.

"Are you guys ok?" Neteyam was gasping for air, his throat burning. Everyone else responded, but Lo'ak's was a little shaky. "Where are you?" Spider tried peaking through the leaves, but couldn't see Lo'ak. "Safe, in a bush," he replied.

Kiri slapped a hand on Spider's shoulder, pointing to a faint blue figure in the bushes across some logs. It wasn't Lo'ak she was pointing at, though.

Lo'ak waved to Kiri, showing she was pointing in the right direction. He didn't hear the tsping stalking him. "Turn around!" Kiri yelled. Lo'ak just shook his head and waved harder. "I did, it's not following me. It's not following me." He smiled, feeling smart. He hoped that tsping was mad as hell, not being able to catch him.

A twig snapped behind him and Lo'ak slowly turned, coming face to face with the tsping. "It is following me," he whispered into the com.

Kiri cackled, arms around her stomach as Lo'ak screeched and jumped out the bush. She laughed with Spider, both of them clinging to each other as to not fall out the tree. He dodged the tsping once more, passing by Neteyam, who slapped his hands on his legs, doubled over as he tried to hold his laugh. He was the older brother and should be protecting Lo'ak. But it was too amusing. "Oh," he laughed, wiping away tears.

Mo'teya clasped both hands over her mouth, choking on the breath. She wanted to laugh so bad, but also was worried for Lo'ak. 'I can see you' she clicked out. Finally, after Lo'ak cussed the tsping out after it tripped, she let go of her mouth and laughed so hard, she choked.

Spider leaned farther out onto a branch, peeking down at Lo. He was running in diagonal lines, making sharp turns and hiding under things, only to be found. Just one big blue blurry thing. It reminded Spider of the old Earth cartoon Jake and the lab guys had shown the kids. "Scooby Doo this shit, dawg!" Spider of howled.

Lo'ak had enough, running towards the tree Mo'teya was in. "Pull me up!" He screams, latching onto the vines Mo used. She pulled with all their little body, still screaming with laughter. When her brother was up and safe, she hugged him. He returned the hug, muttering, "It's so fast, it's so fast, it's so fast."

Avatar Masterlist

Mashiromochi

@unofficial-journalist

@eternallyvenus

@carolinemacher

@liyahsocorro

[pleasantanathema]

Sinful Hymns

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Hair pulling, some rough sex, sex on a desk, religious allusions, a dash of authority kink, no spoilers past early season 1

Word Count: 4k

A/N: In celebration of Season 4 of Attack on Titan airing today, here’s a fulfilled request for Commander Handsome 💕 Thank you so much to the anon who requested this, I had so much fun writing this!

           You couldn’t sleep. There was a nagging in your mind, shadowy visions of titans ascending mountains, climbing walls—the same nightmares that plagued you ever since you joined the scouts all those years ago. You found yourself in the showers, all alone scrubbing away your sins and torments. But even a cleansing couldn’t seem to quell your thoughts, so you roamed.

           The meandering halls of the old scout regiment headquarters were cold, musty, unwelcoming even with Levi’s cleaning. Glimmering lamp light under a cracked door caught your attention, the only light you’d seen while on your stroll.

           The Commander was still awake.

           You weren’t sure what compelled you to stop, to bring your knuckles to rap against the wood of the door. You’d once been quite close with Erwin, back when you were both cadets and working your way up the ranks, but he’d become quite elusive since becoming the Commander. You’d always been interested in him, found your gaze lingering on him a little too long when was around. There was some kind of irresistible, seductive pull towards him, like if you got close enough, he might let you explore the man under the armor. You wondered if he felt it, too, or if your lust was one-sided.

          You were just too curious about what would keep him awake at night. Maybe he struggled with the same miseries you did when the nights felt too dark.

          Tentatively, you slid past the open door.

          Blue eyes caught your movement, his handsome face tilting towards you from where it was seated in his palm.

          He whispered your name, smile tugging at his cheeks.

          “Commander Smith,” you acknowledged, “you’re up quite late.”

          “Seems I’m not the only one.” There was an amusement in his voice that you couldn’t quite place.

          He leaned back in his chair as you stayed in your place, a sudden rise of bashfulness making you bite at the inside of your lip. You were sure you were pestering him; you should’ve just wandered back to your room. Your feet were ready to move, heels pressed against the floor to turn and leave at his behest.

          “Is there something I can help you with?”

          “I—no, I just couldn’t sleep. Apologies, I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

          “No, you’re no bother. Rather, you’re quite a pleasant distraction at the moment,” he gestured to his desk, littered with paperwork and books opened to forgotten pages, “come in, shut the door behind you.”

           You did as you were so kindly told, clicking the door into place behind you before moving in closer. His office was warm, bathed in dim candlelight from the lamp on his desk, shadows being cast from the bookshelves that lined the walls. You noticed he was in only a white button-down and trousers, his ODM gear placed neatly on a chest behind where he sat.

          Your hands came to rest on the chair that was placed in front of his desk for his visitors. You remained standing, not quite ready to be so familiar as to just sit and talk with him. There was humor in his eyes as they scanned your figure, undoubtedly surprised to see you dressed so casually as well, simple pants and shirt being all you brought to wear after taking your late-night shower.

          “Tell me, what keeps you awake?”

           There were many answers to his question, but you erred on the side of simplicity.

           “Nightmares. What about you? What’s kept you awake tonight?”

            Erwin sighed, deep and heavy from his chest. You observed how his long fingers gripped at the armrest of his seat, knuckles white.

           “Letters. Demands from the Military Police to hand over the boy who turns into a titan, demands from royalty to execute him. But also my own curiosities. I’ve been reading to see if there are any records of anyone else like him.”

           “I see,” your tongue clicked behind your lips as you recognized the heaviness bound within his broad shoulders, “anything I can help you with?”

           He smiled fully then, white teeth curving against his pretty lips.

          “Like I said, you’re a welcome distraction. How have you been?”

           Again, there were too many ways to answer his question. But you couldn’t bring yourself to bring your burdens to him, not when he was already carrying the weight of the world upon his back.

          “Life isn’t as simple as it used to be,” not that living in this world had ever been easy.

          “No, I’m afraid it isn’t.”

           You caught an etching of the walls on his desk, details of Sina and Maria partially obscured by a leather-bound book, penciled in lines and notes scribbled around the paper’s edges. Something about it drew you in, had you moving to perch on the edge of his desk, one thigh crinkling pages of ink as your fingers deftly plucked at the drawing.

           He watched you with curiosity, eyebrows lifted as he brought a hand to his chin.

          Your nail traced against the charcoal lines, gaze scanning the comprehensive sketch of the rounded walls and the cities held within them.

         “My father used to think there was some kind of power within the walls; believed there was some unseen magic lingering within the stones to keep us safe…” you trailed off, the rest of your thoughts caught within your throat, “...I’m glad he wasn’t alive when the walls were breached, would’ve ruined the mystery for him.”

         “Was he a believer in the Church of the Walls?”

         “No,” you hummed softly, “just someone who thought there was more to the story.”

          Quite like yourself, you wanted to say, but left the words unspoken. You set the yellowing paper back on his desk, arms crossing.

          He rolled his shoulders in a quiet stretch, running a tired hand through his blonde undercut as he looked up at you. You’d always found him overwhelmingly handsome, the kind of man who changed the atmosphere of a room when he walked in. But there was always a warmth to him, like there was always something brewing, churning inside that enticing mind of his.

          “I never could understand how people could worship the walls,” he mused, shifting his weight forward, getting a little closer to where you were perched, “not when there are other, more...beautiful things to praise.”

          Heat crept up the back of your neck, your too-close proximity to him becoming all too apparent. But he kept getting closer.

          His hand found your knee, fingers trailing over the tight threads of your pants.

          The act seemed endearing, harmless, but the simple touch had your desire rearing its sordid head again. You felt emboldened, confidence swelling in your chest.

         “Then what would you worship, Erwin?”

         “I’m a man of too many sins, I doubt there’s any kind of faith that could bring me absolution.”

          Your fingers ached to touch him, your hand reaching toward his face before your mind could stop the movement. His cheek was warm, skin soft under the brush of your thumb.

          “I don’t believe that. There has to be something beautiful for you to admire…” you felt his fingers tighten against your leg, drifting higher up your thigh, pulling you in, bringing you closer.

          “I could start with you.”

          The tension snapped, splitting like a tightly strung cord between you. You heeded the call to be nearer, moving your hand to rest against his shoulder for balance as you took the initiative to settle yourself in his lap. For a moment, you worried that you pushed too far, that you’d invaded his personal space and made him uncomfortable. But those fears were battered quickly when eager hands took hold of your waist, palms spread wide as they trailed up your back.

          “I’ve always admired you from afar,” he was hushed, breath fanning over your neck, “but you’re much easier to worship up close.”

          You kissed him without a second thought. Years of attraction, of adoration, fueled your lips, your hands grasping at his jawline as he met your passion. His mouth slanted against yours ardently, impatient hands slipping under your shirt.

          You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose at the feel of his warm fingers ghosting up your skin, now suddenly very aware you hadn’t bothered to wear anything below your clothes—you thought you’d be returning to your room, not wandering into your Commander’s lap. You moaned into his mouth, his tongue slipping past your parted lips to taste you. You were overcome with too much, all your senses now flooding with Erwin, his scent, his touch, his entire being smothering you with all the attentions you had ever craved from him.

          His thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts, a groan leaving his chest when you settled lower into his lap, your thighs draped over his own and your core pressed against his hardening cock.

          This wasn’t real—this couldn’t be real, surely you were caught up in one of your dreams again, but his lips against yours felt real, felt hungry, his large hands now cupping and holding the weight of your breasts within his hands. Your fingers carded through his hair, nails delicately raking through the roots to remind yourself that it was him, that this was real.

          “You taste like sin,” he praised, peppering kisses down the column of your throat.

          Any thought you had of replying disappeared when strong fingers pinched at your nipples, causing a heavy moan to fall out of your mouth as your head tilted back, allowing him more access to your neck. He plucked tenderly at your sensitive flesh, a noticeable smirk growing upon his lips as each tug and roll of your breasts had you gasping, whining. He quite liked that, it seemed, to be able to play you so easily.

          You mumbled curses into the air, eyes fluttering closed. You experimentally rolled your hips in his lap, an attempt to get a similar rise from him. He bared his teeth against your throat, canines nipping into your skin before pressing his lips down more forcefully, sucking and lapping at your neck. Heat bloomed from where his mouth met your body, a telling sign that you would have a mark there to remember him by. He was careful, choosing a supple spot below where the collar of your uniform would cover you tomorrow.

           Erwin’s hands released your aching breasts, moving down to grasp at the hem of your shirt.

          “Take this off,” he demanded, a string of saliva still connecting his lips to your neck.

           You dropped your hands from his hair, trailing down his broad chest before meeting his hands and pulling your shirt up over your head. It fell to the floor carelessly, the chill of the room making your skin pebble with gooseflesh.

           You took note of how his cheeks were flushed pink, blush faint across his elegant aquiline nose.

           His intimidating, icy eyes flickered up to you, making your own flush spread across your body. You felt like he was looking through you, reading your thoughts, hearing your internal screams for more. Then, his gaze fell back to your heaving breasts, hands greedily taking them again, lips wrapping around one of your nipples and making you whimper.

           You could feel his cock pressing against you now, harder and thicker than before, the ridge of it nestled against your throbbing cunt. You rolled yourself against it, delighted sounds leaving both of your mouths at the contact. His tongue swirled around your puckered nipple, teeth just barely daring to drag against your flesh. You buried your fingers into his shoulders, feeling his muscles tighten and then relax at your touch.

          “Oh-oh fuck, I—,”

          “You’re dripping,” he interrupted, one of his hands unclasping from your breast and drifting down your belly to rub at the damp spot between your legs, “I can feel you against me.”

           You shivered at the wanton touch, thighs clenching against his legs.

          “Did you come here tonight to seduce me?”

           He mumbled the words against your breast, tongue flattening against your nipple with a few long, heavy licks as his eyes flashed up to you, waiting for your response.

           “No, sir, I promise that wasn’t my,” you moaned as a thick finger slid against your clit through your clothes, “that wasn’t my intention.”

           His wet lips left your breast, coy smirk painting his face.

          “Shame, that was my plan the moment you stepped into my office.”

           You always did fall for his tricks; if only you’d known his hand against your thigh earlier wasn’t so harmless after all.

          “And how did this plan of yours end, Commander?”

           It still felt strange to call him by that title after so many years of calling him by his name, but there was something sensual about it, something alluring about his newfound authority.

           His hands were pushing at your hips, fingers crushing into your skin as he lifted you to move back.

          “With you bent over my desk.”

           It didn’t take him long to wrangle you into the position he so desired. His hands were unhurried, purposeful as he pushed you to stand, peeling your pants down your legs before pressing your face into the pile of papers on his desk. You felt so exposed, what with him being able to see your pussy on display from behind you while all you could focus on was his touch and the way the flame at the edge of his desk flickered.

           Erwin’s fingers spread the folds of your cunt, an appreciative hum sounding from his throat. You mewled at the touch, thighs shaking in your anticipation. The button to his pants popped softly, then you finally felt him, felt his hard, thick cock nudging at your entrance.

           Your hands crumpled a few pages as you searched for something to cling to. Your heart was pounding in your ears, suddenly all too aware that the Commander was still fully clothed, while you were laid out across his desk like a naked whore. One of his hands pulled at your hip, the other trailing down the expanse of your back.

           There was a boldness coming to life inside you at the realization that he’d wanted you the moment you appeared within his room.

           “Worth worshipping, Erwin?”

            You ate your words as he shoved himself inside you, stretching you to your limits as your body burned to accommodate his size. You cried out against the mass of papers, eyes blurring as pleasure burst across all of your nerve endings.

            He groaned at the feeling himself, both hands now digging into the meat of your hips.

            “Fuck,” you heard him breath in deep as he slid is cock out of you before slamming in again, “oh absolutely, darling.”

            You hadn’t heard Erwin curse before.

            But you didn’t have time to dwell on your thoughts, not with him now moving ruthlessly inside you, hips snapping against your ass with every sharp, deep thrust. Little sounds left your lips with every plunge, blissful tingles stemming from where your bodies were conjoined. You loved how you could feel the head of his fat cock dragging along your walls, thick veins throbbing under silken skin.

             You were far past believing this was a dream, now convinced you were actually in the sweet joys of a paradise beyond life.

             A coil of pleasure began to tighten within your lower stomach, hot and mean, like it was ready to tear and erupt with a rush of ecstasy. You moaned his name like a prayer, eyes closed tightly as you focused on the intensity of his cock thrusting inside you.

             You wouldn’t last long, not with the sinful hymns of his grunts and praises resounding behind you. His sounds were faint, but they were there, little rumbling of “so good, so tight,” kissing at your ears.

             God, you could die. You could die and live a happy, full life from this moment alone. You felt so whole with him inside you, felt coated with desire and praise like never before. There were bruises already forming from his grip, you could feel them, skin sore and burning beneath his massive hands.

             “You’re beautiful wrapped around my cock,” he voiced, tone deep and praising, brawny arm sweeping up your spine to fist in your hair. Your head jerked with his action, back arching as he pulled at you. You gasped at the discomfort, a dull ache forming from his too-tight grip. But the pain was overshadowed by the rivers of rapture running over your skin. Your breasts bounced with every thrust, your whole body rebounding like snapping elastic from his brutal behavior.

             The new angle had his cock slamming against that spot inside you that had your body going almost numb from the pleasure, white hot heat spreading over all your limbs, making your toes curl against the floor. You felt like you were fracturing, that thrilling tendril tightening in your belly to its breaking point. You could feel your walls sucking in his cock, your body pleading on its own.

             “Oh fuck, Commander—Erwin,” you were completely lost to the delirium, mind ruined.

            “I know,” he grunted, fingers stiffening in your hair, craning your neck back farther, “I feel you, you’re so—you’re so fucking tight.”

            You crashed down around him, your cunt clenching and pulsing in waves of euphoria, each crest making your lower muscles spasm. Your chin fell, your head only being held by the might of his hand, your brain so foggy with lust and release that you felt as if you had ascended the walls too quickly and fallen back down again. A fresh, euphoric jolt splintered down your body as he sheathed his cock fully into your depths, making your eyes flutter as your mouth opened in a glorious, blissed out state.

           Your body threatened to crumple against the desk, but he held you; the space between his palms and strong fingers was one of the safest places in the world, nothing could touch you if Erwin had you beneath his touch. The fierce tightening of your body sent him over the edge. Hot cum poured inside of you, making you cry out at the captivating feeling of being completely filled by him, the Commander’s seed pooling within your pussy. Your snug walls struggled to flutter around the girth of his cock, prolonging your orgasm and leaving you gasping for breath and basking in every dull thump of his cock inside of you.

           He gently let go of your hair, letting your spent body rest against the desk as he caught his breath. He smoothed his hands over your hips, a tinge of regret in his chest as he noticed the dark prints of his fingers etched into your skin. Erwin wasn’t used to letting go, to letting lust overtake him so mercilessly.

           You stirred after a few moments, straightening your back and finding your balance between your legs. Erwin enveloped you in his arms, hand against your cheek as he trailed his lips up your neck, capturing the side of your mouth with a fervent kiss.

          “Are you alright, darling?” Concern laced his tone, hand smoothing over your belly. You shuttered at the gentle touch, your skin cooling from sweat as you leaned back against his chest, cum sticky and crawling down your thighs.

           You still felt lost, like you were waking from the dark depths of slumber, his hands calling you to him. One palm wrapped around your neck, stroking at the column of your throat like he was helping you to find your breath.

          “Yes, yes I’m…,” you couldn’t think of the words to describe just how you felt. It was like you’d finally been cleansed, every grievous thought expunged from your mind, but also like you’d fallen back into the past, back into your daydreams of wishing Erwin would press you against the barracks wall and smothering his name from your mouth.

         “It is yes sir, to you, don’t forget I’m your superior now,” he teased between nips and kisses, a smile brushing against your skin.

         You turned in his arms, pressing your naked chest against his wrinkled shirt, the cotton soft against your breasts. You stood on your toes to try and match his height, molding your lips to his, stealing his grin and making it your own.

          “I could never forget, not with such a display of power,” you affirmed, seriousness apparent on your tongue. You knew he could take anything he wanted from you, and you were more than willing to lay yourself bare for him whenever he pleased.

          You expected there to be a stillness between you, a moment of reflection after such a callous coupling. But Erwin’s hands were greedy, selfish, cupping and kneading at the soft flesh of your ass, of the side of your breast. You were small in his shadow; a miniscule frame being devoured by a starved predator.

          “I want to see just how well you obey orders. Go to my quarters and wait for me, I’m not finished with you yet.”

           Your head nodded accordingly, your knees ready to kneel to the floor and gather your forgotten garments. But Erwin kept his fingers in your flesh, preventing you from moving from his hold when you tried.

           “Ah, I don’t think you need your clothing, not when you’ll just be shedding it again so soon.”

           There was a playful glint in his eyes, his eyebrows thoughtfully pressed together as he tried to gauge your response.

           “Erwin,” his hands cinched around your body, an acute reminder, “sir, I can’t...walk to your room naked.”

           He patted your backside before he sat back into the chair behind his desk, cock tucked neatly back into his pants. There was still a pretty blush tingeing his cheeks, his lips plump and dark pink from all their time spent sucking at your skin. You almost wanted to cover yourself under his scrutinizing gaze, icy irises roaming your body like a piece of art bought and hung on a wall for his viewing pleasure.

           “It’s late, there shouldn’t be anyone to find you,” he relaxed, arms crossing across his chest, “but, if you happen to be unfortunate, remind them that you are under your Commander’s orders.”

           Erwin took a sick delight in watching your eyes narrow at him, your lips pursing in slight irritation; but he knew you wouldn’t dare disobey him, you’d always been too good of a soldier for that, and now a promising plaything.

           He couldn’t help but survey your body as you walked towards the door, delicious curves and marks from his skin on an alluring display, his cum still flowing down your thighs. You’d be a blessed sight to anyone who got the privilege to see you on your journey to his sleeping quarters, a goddess floating down the corridors.

           You looked over your shoulder at him when you opened the door, catching his diligent gaze and matching it. He always thought you’d be amusing to toy with and you’d proven that with how easily you could match his intensity.

           “You shouldn’t be up so late, Commander Smith, nothing good happens after midnight.”

           He hid the smirk behind his hand as you left his office the same as you entered, only bare-skinned and with a new, more suitable destination.

[rezzyromance]

Idk if this is how you request things or if it's just asking, BUT-

How would the Lords react to an S/O that's usually the chillest person that you will ever meet (not to be confused with a pushover because they are not), they've never seen them even mildly annoyed when something bad happens. But then something happens and, turns out, the S/O is utterly TERRIFYING when they're mad.

Hope this makes sense!

Aw man I'm gonna feel awful scaring Moreau and Donna :(

Alcina

You're relaxing on a beautiful morning. The sun is shining through the window just enough to warm the room but not hurt your eyes. You hadn't even changed out of your sleep wear. "How are you feeling, my dear?", a sweet voice rang from the doorway. You were sitting in your favorite chair near the window. You turn and smile at her. She walks over and rubs your face in her large hand before leaning down and giving you a soft kiss. "I'm feeling amazing. And you?", you grab her hand before she pulls it away and you place a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm feeling alright. There's a new maid here. She's a bit slow. I'm giving her until tonight to finish dusting the entire castle or else she won't see another sunrise." It was almost comedic how dark her words were as you both stared out the window and gazed at the beautiful scenery. "Come on Alcina.", you stand up and place your hands on hers, trying to hold them despite the size difference. "Give the girl a break. It's a huge castle AND it's her first day.", you knew your words would probably change nothing. Alcina was rather cruel, but you looked past it. You tried your best to make the nervous maids comfortable whenever they arrive.

"We'll see how she does." She gives you one more kiss before leaving the room. You sit back down in your chair, enjoying the warmth of the sun for a little while longer. You lose track of time, minutes maybe even hours go by. Suddenly, there's a crash not far from the door. You jump and stand up, no longer comfortable after being startled. "What in the name of Mother Miranda?!", you leave the room and look down the hallway. The new maid stood there with a terrified look on her face. In front of her was one of the paintings Alcina had on her walls, now with a broken frame and a hole punctured. Your blood began to boil. It was a painting of you, her, and the girls all together. It was your favorite. "How in the hell did you manage to do that?!", you begin to stomp towards her. She cowers and struggles to find her words. "I-I-I was just dusting! It fell and I-I didn't mean t-", you cut her off. "How the fuck did you knock such a large painting over just by dusting?! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE ALLOWED TO MAKE SUCH STUPID MISTAKES HERE?!", you unravel. "I-I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!", she almost begins to weep. "SORRY ISN'T GONNA SAVE YOUR ASS!"

"MISS DIMITRESCU PLEASE HELP!", she cries out. You freeze, realizing that the lady herself is right behind you. You turn to face her. Her eyes are wide with shock. She has never seen you like this before and never even knew you had this type of side to you. She was impressed as much as she was terrified. "(Y/N)? Are you alright my love?" She had no idea what to do as your seething slowed down. "Why don't you go back to the room, yes? Settle down a little and deal with her later.", she places a hand on your back helps walk with you back to the room. Once you're there, she bends down to whisper in your ear. "I don't know where this side of you has been this whole time, but I am so amazed by you. And also a little frightened."

Donna

The Beneviento house was usually a calm place despite its creepy aura. You and Donna are both quiet and chill people. Never once have you fought or even raised your voices at each other. It was pleasant.

You had planned a nice dinner for the both of you. You wanted to try out a new recipe and surprise her, so you made your way to the kitchen to get started. "Okay, what first? I guess I'll need a pot.", you go rummaging through the kitchen and you find the pots stacked within each other inside one of the top cabinets. You groan and stand up on your toes, grazing the pots with your fingers. It didn't take much to cause them to tumble down, crashing on top of you with a loud sound that followed. "Aw shit.", you sighed and picked up the knocked over pots. A small but annoying pain began to throb in your head from where it made contact with a pot. What you didn't notice was you forgot to pick one of the pots up. It remained unnoticed. "It's fine.", you say to yourself as you maintain your composure. Next, a cutting board and knife. You turn around and begin to walk forward to find the cutting board, but you slam your toe into counter. You wince in pain and grab your foot. "SON OF A BITCH!", you yell.

You calm yourself, still wanting to have a pleasant meal with Donna. "Alright. Everything's fine." You step forward and kick the pot that you had forgotten to pick up. It caused your freshly kicked toe to ache even more. "OH COME ON! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!", you scream and swear as you throw your arms up in pure rage and shock.

"...(Y/N)?", a gentle voice whispered from the doorway, causing you to whip your head in that direction. It was Donna. She looked absolutely horrified and almost looked like she could cry. "Is.. is everything... are you alright?", she worried. "Yes. I'm sorry. Just got a little pissed off.", you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, feeling bad for scaring the poor girl.

Moreau

You were sitting on the dock together, looking into the water as your feet swung back and forth above it. It was a sunny day and you two decided to spend it outside. Your hand slowly made its way over to his. His feet stopped swinging for a second as you entangled your fingers. "I don't know what I'd do without you, (Y/N)." his words were bitter sweet as a gentle smile formed from his lips. "Oh, Sal. You don't have to think like that. I'll always be here for you.", you kiss his cheek and continue to relax as you sway your legs.

"There it is! There's the beast!", a voice yelled from not so far away. You both look in the direction of the voice and see a few young village boys. Possibly between the ages of 13 and 16. Moreau had become some what of a scary story for the villagers. A tale that kids spread on school court yard and bring up during dares. But, you've never seen a kid brave enough to actually make it far enough into the reservoir to actually see Moreau. Now, there were about 3. All of them stood and pointed, shocked and terrified.

"Hey beast! Come get me!", one kid teases. You glare at the kids as a newfound rage begins to boil inside you. "Let's go back inside.", Moreau says before standing up from the doc. The sadness in his voice was heartbreaking. Suddenly, one of the children gathers the guts to pick up a rock and throw it as hard as he could. His aim was off, but not by much. It slammed into the wood near Moreau's feet, startling him. "Take that you devil!", he laughs. "THAT'S IT YOU LITTLE SHIT!", you begin sprinting in the direction of the immature brats. Two of them run from the direction they came from while the one who threw the rock was frozen in fear. You took the opportunity to grab him by the collar of his shirt. "Listen here you little waste of space. I'm gonna give you 3 seconds to turn around and run for your goddamn life. If you or any of your little snot-nosed friends come around here again, they'll be goddamn fish food. Do you understand?" The kid was too scared to speak and instead began to nod rapidly. You let him go and watched as he ran as fast as he could, screaming the whole way.

You walk back to the shack and find Moreau standing in the same place he was when you took off. His mouth was agape and he looked almost as scared as the kids. "You alright Sal? I made sure those little shits won't be coming around here anymore." "Yeah... I didn't know you could be so... scary", he says. "I'm sorry. But those kids were being cruel. I had to do something.", you say. "Well... it was awesome!", he smiled. "But also very scary!" You laugh which helps sooth him a little.

Heisenberg

"Screw driver.", is all Karl said with an outstretched palm. He was working on some type of mechanical heart for his experiments. He wanted you to lend a "helping hand" even though he could easily do it all by himself. He did this because he wanted to be around you, he was just too stubborn with too big of an ego to simply say it. So here you were, handing him every little tool he asks for.

"Do you want the big one or the little one?", you say with a hint of boredom in your tone. "Aw c'mon don't sound like that! Isn't this exciting? It's like you're working on it with me! Also, hand me the big one.", you do as he says and hand him the big screw driver. "I just don't get it. You literally have powers. You can easily do this by yourself and have been for so long. Why do you need me to help?" He pauses for a second and looks over towards you, his brow slightly furrowed. "I don't NEED you to help. I just thought it would be nice for you to help out. Plus, you're the one always bitching about me constantly working. Well, here you are! Helping me work! So, either suck it up or you can leave." His harshness had no real ill will in it. He was just confused and a bit too ignorant to consider his words. But, he was testing your patience. He continued to use the screwdriver until handing it to you without saying a word.

"Hand me a screw.", he demanded with his hand facing palm up again. "Which size?" "They're all the same sizes, dumbass." You feel your blood begin to boil. "They're different fucking sizes! This one is smaller than this one!", you hold up two screws that are obviously different sizes. This makes Karl angry. Not because you were right, but because you seemed upset over something that seemed so insignificant.

"If you came here just to yap in my ear, then I don't think I need your assistance.", he huffed. You put the selection of tools and supplies he was making you hold on the table he is working on and ball your fists. "You're the one who told me to do this in the first place!", you yell. "Yeah, because you won't stop bitching! Non-stop you're always compla-" you cut him off before he can finish. "SHUT UP!", you yell. The room goes silent. "YOU SAY I'M BITCHING? HAVE YOU HEARD YOURSELF? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST KARL YOU BITCH AND MOAN ALL THE TIME! I'M DONE TAKING SHIT FROM YOU!" He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He felt something much more overwhelming. Was he.. intimidated? He didn't move from his seat. All he could do was look up at you with a confused expression. What now? What is there to do? If he pushes you further, what would happen? He was actually too scared to find out.

You take a deep breath to calm down before speaking. "Now, if you want me to help with your shit, I'll stay as long as you keep your mouth shut. Can you possibly manage to do that?" He gulps nervously. "Yes ma'am."

[yanderenightmare]

Can you write some more about nice guy jock kiri? Please and thank you. Have a good day!

yandere ! KIRISHIMA EIJIRO - RED RIOT

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, dubcon/noncon, suggestive language, manipulation, coercion

THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY

He said she could pick the movie this time.

He said she could pick out any movie at all. Whatever she wanted, they were going to watch. Yet in the time she’d spent making lunch, Kirishima sprawled lazily in her bed, browsing half-mindedly, eyes sliding from viewing the screen to looking at her round grabbable ass dancing as she padded about the small kitchen, begging for him to come pinch as she put the stir-fry in bowls and walked over to plot herself down next to the muscly block of man, he’d already picked a movie, far away from something she’d choose, though when eyeing what puppy-dog look he gave her, she couldn't very well say no.

Kirishima has always been clingy. She wouldn't like to call it suffocating, or controlling, though it does border on the word. But she cannot blame him for being handsy and suggestive when they’re alone, in her apartment, in her bed. He’s always been needy, always touching her, so very big-hearted and forward, easily distracted, easily discarding of tasks in favor of doing what new activity calls for his attention, like a dog.

She was becoming quite used to his confident nature, how hap-hazardously he would go about touching her, kissing and licking at her the way he so often went about doing, so much so it was strange to think that they hadn't ever actually slept together.

They had been dating for a couple weeks, and Kirishima was clear about his intentions and aspirations and wants and needs from the start, being a very open honest person, but she couldn't help but feel as though he was pushing her, nudging her, guilt-tripping her with candid words of how horny he was because of her, how frustrated he was, how frigid, how it was effecting his schoolwork, how good a boyfriend he was for waiting, for being patient and tolerant, how she couldn't blame him for wanting something in return, even though that something was a thing she wasn't ready to give him.

It would be wrong if she said he didn't respect her wishes, because he had, albeit begrudgingly. Each time she invited him over, or... he invited himself over,  when he became rowdy, it would always take a good amount of bargaining and persuasion on her side, which was always met with even more coaxing and encouragement from him. How he would message his hand into the inside of her thigh, and she would push ever so gently to keep him at bay until he finally laid off, the mood stiff and awkward as he left her apartment to walk to his own place, alone, with a rejected boner he would have to take care of alone, then go to sleep alone, and wake up alone. He had still respected her wish in the end, or... maybe not respected, but at least accepted it.

She hadn't picked out the movie, and it being something she hadn't really invested very much thought into, she didn't try and stop him from nuzzling into her neck, kissing and sucking on the tender flesh found there. She allowed him to lift her shirt up to rub circles into her stomach with his warm roughened hand, let him grab and grope and mold her breast through the fabric of her bra, let him swing his leg over her body, to lock her position beneath him and his brawny heavy frame as he cuddled into her.

She could already feel the stiff bulge bump into her thigh, tried to forgive him for always riling himself up when he knows what her answer’s going to be, knows how she isn't ready to give him what he wants. Hearing his breathing picking up, becoming rugged and raspy, hot against her neck as he tried humping into her, having rolled and positioned and handled both their bodies so he could lie between her thighs, face mushed into the soft skin of her neck, nipping at her collarbones , spiky hair poking into the underside of her chin, hands abrasive when squeezing at the flesh of her ass and thighs, gripping them to lock around his torso, venturing to grab at her waist and breasts, becoming more and more frenzied, more and more rugged, forgetting his strength, forgetting her protests, getting more and more carried away.

She jolted once she felt his fingers hook into the band of her panties, having slipped up her skirt and spidered playfully up her thigh. She grabbed his arms loosely, small hands obviously not able to wrap around the thickness of his muscles, though applying what strength she deemed necessary to make him take her seriously, lightly digging her fingernails into his skin. “Uhm, Kiri-” She squeaked unsurely, breaching the shapeless noisy silence of heavy breathing and rugged groans and building growls that had filled the room, movie still quietly playing in the background, white noise completely ignored by the burning of her ears.

“Come on, let me feel.” He purred into her ear, giving her lobe a nibble. 

“Uhm, I don't think-” She shoved at him, balls of her feet digging into the mattress, trying to sit up.

He laid his weight down on her, immobilizing her movement, keeping her under him. “Come on...” He drawled, voice rumbling. “Please?” Mumbling into her skin, knowing how it always makes her giggle from the tickle by the light scruff on his chin, knowing it makes her sweet and pliable. “Pretty please? It’ll feel good, I promise.” 

He didn't really wait for any response, his face mushed into her neck, seeming cute as he pleaded but also acting as a great trap, his hand succeeded in pushing her panties aside, warm worn fingers, foreignly larger cuddled with the sensitivity kept there. His breath shuddered, lips spreading into a toothy grin against her neck, so wide she could feel it. 

“Aww.” He moaned. “That’s so warm and wet.” She cringed, but hadn't the time to tell him to stop, hadn't the time to decide that she valued her limits more than maintaining the good vibe, and then she hadn't the mind to really think about it at all, too preoccupied with wrapping her thoughts around the fact that Eijiro had just pushed one thick knuckled finger inside her, roughly at that, pumped it in, stuffed her with it, with an equally chaffed thumb-pad laying heavy pressure down into her little beading clit.

It would probably have felt awful, the brutish boyish clumsy inconsiderate rubbing, but having him dry-hump into her for the better half of the entire movie made for a little messy spill between her thighs, perfectly ready to make whatever rough movement he gave seem like God’s touch, enough to have her moan at once.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, cocky undertone almost completely smoked out by livid lust, his arousal so very clear in his voice as he removed his weight when feeling her body melt and comply to what his hand was giving her of bliss. His large muscly frame rising to kneel between her legs, having her thighs hiked up and spread atop of his, forehead resting against hers. She bobbed her head in a series of quick sporadic nods, teeth biting harshly into her lip as she watched with a bowed head his finger disappear in and out the vulnerable sensitivity found between her spread thighs, the smell of beer on his heavy hot breaths fan over her face before he kissed her head. “You wanna cum?” She gave a moan, indicating an unspoken yes as he rubbed his thumb over and over her tender pearl, pushing another one of his long fingers inside her, making her gasp out a moan, mewing as he curled and scissored the two digits inside her, making her inevitable unraveling arrive much quicker.

He wiped his sticky hand on his pant leg with a small smug smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, watching as her head fell back to rest against the pillow again, beginning to unbutton his jeans. 

The sound of him sliding down his zipper pulled her focus back, eyelids fluttering open just in time to watch him pull his throbbing hard erection out with a sigh. And though the red-head had gone about the reveal in an unceremonious manner, whether it was out of lack of showmanship or Kirishima deeming it unnecessary, it didn't really matter to the virgin beneath him. She took one look and she wasn’t able to look away. A surprising black bush drew her focus at first, what more the two easter-eggs that seemed to be nestling there, but not before long her eyes felt the need to follow what bulging pumping purple vein ran up the underside of the thickness, almost like a spine, or a pin that reached up to a red-blushed head, glossed like a candy-apple, with a slit running though it and a spill of pre-cum dripping down to disappear in the dark forest below.

She could swear it sized up to her whole arm’s-length.

Her eyebrows knitted as she continued eyeing the hard pole, watching it bob with strength, straining against his stomach, standing proudly on it’s own as he lifted his shirt off his arms and shoulders, throwing it to the floor, revealing what mouthwatering washboard rock-hard abs he kept beneath. 

His hand once again reached out, this time to grab her wrist, guiding her shaking hand back to his thick member, watching her hesitate to wrap her delicate little fingers around his length once he squeezed her wrist too hard in impatience, seeing her bite her lip at the feel of the almost rubbery-smooth texture of his length in her palm, warm to the touch. His larger hand wrapped around her smaller one, guiding the movement as he started pumping up and down.

He groaned, head hung and resting atop her shoulder where he knelt with her sitting form in his lap, red eyes with wide pupils locked on watching her small hand loosely holding onto him, his cock looking so unbelievably huge in her tiny grasp, like some beast, where the more he thought about it and the more he looked, it was big compared to all of her, he could only imagine what she was thinking as she eyed his length with that cute childish level of curiosity and sweet tinge of virgin anxiety. She needed to bite her lip to prevent it from trembling, wanting to squeeze her thighs shut when they too became unruly, wanting to protect what was kept between them.

It only made his cock throb even harder.

“I- fuck-” He grunted, thrusting shallowly up into her hand by angling his hips up, looking down upon her enticing pretty silken dew-kissed heat, his finger greedily reaching to touch the tender entrance only to hear her whimper out a small whine at once when his rough digits brazenly made contact. “You’re so shy, it’s adorable.” 

The loosely given hand-job felt good around his priorly ignored arousal, what with how sensitive he was, but was missing what her pussy was welcomingly dripping with. 

He lowered himself, hand grabbing his base to steady the attack, yet was declined by her placing her own hand in front of the poor unsuspecting virgin tightness. “Uhm, Kiri- I-”

He shushed at her, prying her hand easily away, replacing it with his own, rubbing those electrical patterns he did before into her pretty budding pearl. “No, no, Baby. Come on. Pretty please, it’ll feel so good, I’ll be gentle okay? It’ll be good, I promise.” He swirled his thumb over her clit, an act far from gentle, though sending those sharp involuntary spikes of pleasure into her core, giving to something pooling in her stomach, something warm and sticky and heavier than before, almost burdening with how it strained in the muscles of her thighs, making her shake beneath the man’s mere thumb. “I love you, Baby, don't you want us to take the next step?”

“Uhm...” She gasped as he abused the sensitivity under his course strength.

“Thank you, Baby.” He purred, lips carved into a smile fit for devouring, planting kisses down her face and into her neck, his cock pushing into the velvet folds.

But she backed up, balls of her feet pushing into the mattress, her palms doing the same, but Kirishima had other plans, none of them including letting her up.

“Kiri, no-” She pushed lightly at his chest then, as she’d done before, trying to soothe and smooth over the feathers she’d ruffled, trying ever so gently in those small soft caresses to apologize for having riled him up so.

But seems this time he wouldn't have that either, her hands cupped and pulled rather dismissively out of the way, dominated by his own and how he intertwined his digits, raking them in with her dainty ones, locking their hands, or rather securing hers, before pushing them flat into the sheets beside her, giving him full access to what lied beneath him without her bothersome fists getting in his way. “Come on, Babe... stop being a little tease...” Her hands slipped their confinements in his as he rather needed them to manage her body, felt that twitching itch to grab and grope and tug and pull at all her doughy flesh. She gasped as he groped a mans handful of her ass, bumping his bare cock into her, rubbing it up and over her pussy, bobbing between their stomachs.

His face was still so adamant on nibbling at the flesh of her collar, leaving what she knew to be ugly swelling purple stains that turned into those vile green and yellow marks looking like fungus blooming on her skin. “I’m sorry-” It was all too much to have his warm skin pressed against her, his naked hardness, all of him, his rough hands, his brutish needle-sharp teeth, that thing that poked at her, humped into her where he’d made a sticky wet hot mess, with her underwear put somewhere out of sight and most definitely out of reach. “I’m not ready to-” Her hands tried softly but with increasing effort at getting him off, trying to get her discomfort across to the seemingly clueless baboon who was handling her body to his own selfish ends on top of her. 

“It’s fine.” His voice was heated, soft despite trodding over her own, as he tried calming her down, again with his hands tugging at her wrists and pushing the annoying things away from him, again so he could lie himself down on top of her. “We’ll try something-” His efforts at soothing her weren’t appreciated by the girl beneath as she continued pushing, bordering on thrashing beneath the giant red-head.

“Kiri, stop. ” There was an edge to her voice this time, an edge he didn’t appreciate.

Large hand wrapped their fingers around her wrist and crushed it with a strength she couldn't hope to match, a dark chuckle following, rumbling just beside her ear alongside a small smile carving his lips at the cute pop of bones followed by her whimper. “Stop being so difficult, Babe.” He chastised, voice dismissive and completely unbothered by her spiked struggles, treating her reluctance like it was nothing but a minor inconvenience he could simply swat away like a fly. “I know you’ll like it, you just need to-”

“I don’t need to do anything!” She cried now, adorable small whines as she tried prying her hand out of his hold. “Get off me!”

“Kinda feels like you’re trying to piss me off here.” His tone darkened, and so did the look in his eyes, and though she was just short of bawling with the lump  of hopelessness and fear caught stuck in her throat, the adrenaline gave her such a rush of confidence as her leg finally managed to shuffle under his, allowing her to knee him right in that swelled thick slug he was so transfixed on appeasing.

And though she managed briefly to slip out from beneath him, it was no victory, and she felt that ounce of triumph that fluttered in her heart snuff out at the feel of his brawny taunt and rock hard arms wrap around her torso, hoisting her off the ground, only to throw her right back where she’d been laying not moments ago.

“Please, Eijirou, please, you're scaring me, stop.” She kicked now, flopping beneath him like a fish hauled up on a boat, tried prying her hands out of his grasp yet couldn't stop him from holding her down, rolling her on her stomach while he pulled off his uniform necktie, bending her arms behind her back and tightening the noose around her wrists, pulling the tail between them to secure the knot tightly, before rolling her back with her hands being crushed beneath her.

Her face reappeared tear-slicked and panicked. “There we go, all pretty and perfect for me.” He lightly tapped her face as he stuffed her mouth with the panties he fished back up from his pockets, settling between her legs again as she whined through the make-shift gag.

Rough course hand, like sandpaper, like rock, slid down between her thighs, slowly in their venture, pushing and kneading into the softness, hungry as they groped and pushed her open, wrapped her around his torso so he could slap his rock-solid cock onto her vulnerable little opening.

“Let me paint a picture for you, Babe.” He started, catching her attention. 

Her eyes so unbelievably wide as she looked up at him through the thick hazy ominous darkness of the room, a darkness that once seemed so cozy now so overwhelming, the sun having gone down, the TV turned to black, the lights left off and the only glimmer coming from the streetlights and the dim white glow of the moon shining in through her window, leaving Kirishima’s sharp teeth to hang above her and how they seemed to drip, eerie shadows cast upon his face, eyes red and hazy, drooped to slits, drunk and cocky as he continued rubbing his cockhead up through the lips of her pussy ever so causally, like she wasn’t bound and bawling beneath him. 

“So listen up and listen carefully. Can you do that, Babe?” 

She felt cold suddenly, chilled to her core by his tone, reduced to shivering beneath his confident touch, shuddering where she laid, chest pushed upward above the support her arms gave, head drawing in the dune of her pillow, thighs lifted to straddle her boyfriend’s waist, his hand keeping her there by curling his thumb into the underside of her knee. 

“The way I see it, you have two options.” He leaned in, voice sturdy but soft like a straight-jacket. “Either you be my good girl and give me what’s mine.” Tone swooping low into a growl. “Or...” 

His hands moved steadily as they began unbuttoning her shirt from the bottom up, planting a kiss on the newly exposed skin of her tummy, just short of her belly-button. The light scruff of his chin tickling the thin skin it rubbed against as he continued licking and nibbling on the flesh the more it was exposed to him. 

“You run along to your friends, tell them what a bad bad guy I am. They ask for proof, but silly little you have no proof to give.” He chuckled, warm breath breezed on the peach-fuzz of her chest as he kept sucking his marks into her, hands fingering the last of her buttons. “People love me, Buttercup, so let me ask you this...” The crimson spikes of his hair stuck into the underside of her chin as he licked up her throat, kissed her jaw and bit at her earlobe, whispering. “Who’s side you think they gonna take?” Humming as he watched another fat tear run down her cheek. “You go to the teachers, they ask for proof, something you still don’t have because there is none. And even if they did believe you... no saying they’d do anything about it. I’m destined to be a billboard hero. Do you really think they’ll throw all that away on some ditz from general studies?” Question after question, answer after answer, each one another stab and twist of the rusty blade in her hope. “Think again.” With her shirt open she witnessed him morph his hand into sharp rock, a jagged finger burrowing beneath the bridge of her bra and cutting the thick fabric loose, now fully exposed to his mouthful of teeth and slobbering tongue. “Hate to break it to you, but that’s not how the world works, Sweetheart.” 

She closed her eyes, clamped them shut, but it only helped her feel all his entitled actions even more, how he moved, rightfully, regardlessly, without regret or remorse. She swore she could feel him pulsating against her, his cock pumping against her swollen clit, where she could argue that the rip of him tearing apart her skirt was the loudest noise she’d ever heard in her life. 

“And perhaps it ends there, but I know you. You continue, trying to make anyone believe you, eventually ending up in management for crazy obsessed fanatic fangirls -of which I have many- or you give up.” His mouth enclosed her nipple, tongue swirling around the bud, fingers tweaking the other breast with boyish greediness. “Either way, you end up missing. With no friends to bother coming to find you, thinking that your delusional ass offed yourself, when in reality...” 

Large hand curling around her neck, squeezing as he rose to look down at her, rock his hips to allow his cock more friction, sliding up and down between her thighs, bobbing against her stomach, thrumming and spilling thick whiteness, dripping and smearing onto her skin. 

“You’re right back here with me.” 

Her heart skipped, seemed to stop, everything seemed to stop. His words hung poised, forgetting how to drop, like dust settling, lingering about the air as she looked up at him, thinking he looked like the onset of hell, like a demon, his hair like horns, his eyes like hellfire, and those teeth, those sharp unforgiving teeth. 

“You see, if you don’t give, I will take.” He juggled her head with the tight grip he had on her jaw, playing with her as his other hand swept through her delicate sensitive folds, made her cringe, try and shimmy away, all to his disgusting amusement shown in the snaggletooth that hooked over his lip as he smirked a grim curled line. “And right now it looks to me like I might just have to show you just how defenseless you are to stop me.” His digits wiggled inside her, and she whined into her panties as she sucked on them, her eyes clinging to the dangerous heat simmering inside his. “Aww see? You’re already getting so wet. Your body sure knows who it belongs to, I’m sure you will too, very soon.”

[wonderfilworld]

Ardor

Remus Lupin x fem reader 

a/n: this is for a request: “Could you do a Remus lupin x reader with a decent age gap with a light, embarrassed daddy or sir kink and thigh riding?” I didn’t really specify a decent age gap or anything, just that Remus is older than you but you’re out of Hogwarts and in The Order together!

word count: 2k

warnings/contains: NSFW!! smut: daddy kink, thigh riding; cursing; kissing. if there’s anything else let me know!

Masterlist   To be added to my taglist

You thumbed through the book in your hands, trying to calm your mind as it was late and you needed to get some sleep. The day was a long one; The Order meeting had run into the early morning hours.

The kids had returned to school, and you were missing the constant chatter that went on in Sirius’ home. You were thankful he allowed you to stay with him; especially with everything going on, you didn’t feel like being alone in your tiny apartment, and you know Sirius appreciates the extra company. Remus also stays within these walls - right down the hall, actually - and the thought of the brunette makes you groan as you throw an arm over your eyes. 

Remus was just a little bit older than you, but he was so handsome, how could you not be infatuated with him? You saw how he looked at you, how he would eye you almost hungrily some days, and it frustrates you that he’s never acted on it.

You sit up; you’re not falling asleep anytime soon, so you decide to tidy your room a bit to help you tire. Clothes are thrown haphazardly on your desk, so you pick them up one by one and store them in their rightful places. 

You hear a soft knock at your door, and you don’t think twice before you quietly call out a come in. You don’t remember that the only articles of clothing you’re wearing are a t-shirt that slides down one shoulder and a pair of panties being covered by the hem of your shirt. 

“Hey, I -” Only when you hear Remus’ sentence stop prematurely do you remember your attire. Your eyes widen and your back is to him, and you don’t know if it’s better to be facing him or not. 

You make up your mind quickly though, as you turn around, hands still clutching one of your sweaters you were in the middle of putting away. 

“R-Remus,” you stutter, eyes still wide as you realize that he hasn’t looked away; hasn’t backed himself out of your room even after taking in your half-naked body.

He seems to snap out of his trance then, shaking his head profusely as he speaks. “Sorry, I just heard you up and wanted to check on you.”

You nod once before speaking, “I’m okay, just not tired.”

He hums, fumbling a book in his large hands, one you’re sure he was in the middle of reading when he heard your footsteps across your room. 

He’s still in his day clothes; worn jeans and a button-up shirt that’s rolled up his sleeves. You want to make a move - it’s the perfect time - he’s looking along the expanse of your body and you can feel heat creeping its way up your neck and face. You shift back and forth on your feet as you pick at the sweater in your arms. 

Remus must mistake your nervousness for uncomfortableness because he quickly rushes out, “I’m sorry, I’ll just go.” 

“No!” You say, and you internally cringe at how desperate you sound. “No, no, it’s fine.” 

Remus gives another nod of understanding and says, “You wanna talk?”

You signal your head yes, pulling out your desk chair and indicating for him to sit. 

He turns to shut your door, and you try to calm yourself, trying to convey to your body he’s only doing that so your conversation doesn’t wake Sirius. He makes his way to the chair and sits, placing the novel he brought on top of your desk. 

Your back is against your desk so you place your hands there and lift your body until you’re perched on the edge, the hem of your shirt riding dangerously high on your thighs. Under normal circumstances, you would be more modest, but right now you couldn’t think straight and with the way Remus is eyeing the newly exposed skin, you can’t be bothered to care. 

With newfound confidence, you decide to lean back, placing your hands behind you to prop yourself up. The movement causes the shirt to completely uncover your panties, and you’re thanking past you for wearing decent ones. Your shirt is fairly thin, and you’re acutely aware of your nipples rubbing against the fabric. You know that if Remus were to look he could see them through the cotton, but his eyes are trained on another piece of cotton covering a far more intimate part of you. 

You see him gulp, Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes find yours. You keep your face neutral; chest heaving as you look at him. 

“What’re you doing?” He asks, and you want to scoff - you know what I’m doing, Remus - is what you want to say, but instead, you paint a look of confusion over your features as you reply.

“What d’you mean?” 

He lets out an actual scoff at that, edges of his lips curling into a smirk. “If you want something, just ask.” 

You deflate at that, you don’t know exactly what to ask for. Well, you do, but there’s no way you could get your mouth to articulate the words. 

Remus’ hand finds your ankle, and his thumb runs along the outside of it as he waits for your answer. His touch makes goosebumps rise along your skin, and if he can make you feel dizzy just by rubbing your ankle, what the hell are you going to do when he gives you what you want?

You move the leg he has a hold of further out as you spread your legs and give him a view of where you really want him to put his hands.

Remus sucks in a breath, your legs are open - for him - and it’s probably one of the prettiest sights he’s ever seen. 

“I want this,” is all you say, and it’s quiet after that; you can hear your breaths mingling as Remus decides what to do next. 

He contemplates his answer; he’s captivated by you and knows you possess similar feelings towards him, but he’s been hesitant to act on it. He doesn’t want to subject you to his monthly routines, doesn’t want you to feel as though you should be his caretaker. No, you deserve someone your own speed, someone you wouldn’t have to worry about every full moon, someone who can take care of you, not the other way around. 

You get tired of waiting for his response, it’s obvious you both want this - he would have left by now if he didn’t. So, you reach down for his hand that still has a firm grasp on your ankle and you bring it up between your legs, placing it directly on your clothed cunt as you lift your hips up into it. The breathtaking friction catches you by surprise, a moan hitching in your throat as your hips thrust against his open palm once more. 

Also catching you by surprise is the groan that Remus lets out, the sight of you taking matters into your own hands and using him for your own pleasure makes him hot, makes his mouth water and his pants tighten. He can feel the way your clit pulses against his palm as he presses against it, feels the way the hardened nub drags up his fingers as you buck your hips again. 

“Fuck,” he whines - whines - as your hips continue to pull up and down his hand. He doesn’t know what he wants to do first, wants to pull your panties aside and see the slick drip out of your center, wants to lean forward and put his tongue there, tasting you and licking up to suck on your clit because he just knows it would drive you crazy. Your breathy moans are loud in the quiet of the room but he doesn’t care, he wants to hear more of them. 

He pulls his hand away, and you mewl at the loss of contact. Remus can see the wet spot on your panties, can feel it on his hand where it soaked through the fabric. 

“Come sit,” he says, patting his thighs. 

You waste no time hopping off the desk and straddling his thighs. You rest your hands on his shoulders, and his make a home on your hips. 

He continues your rutting against him; watches your face as you discover how hard your previous actions made him. 

Your eyebrows are furrowed, your mouth ajar as pants leave your lips every time you feel Remus’ cock slide against your cunt. You grind down harder, chasing the feeling that’s building in your core. 

You feel one of Remus’ hands slide up your back and onto your neck, and you lunge forward as you feel him push your lips toward his. It’s a messy kiss, not very coordinated at all - it’s hard to focus when he starts to move with you, matching your thrusts eagerly. 

Remus rests his forehead against yours as he speaks again. “Can you do somethin’ for me, baby?” 

You bob your head before he even finishes the question, of course, you’d do anything for him. 

“Can you call me daddy, sweetheart?” 

Your hips stutter; it’s not something you ever would have done otherwise, something you’ve never really thought of before, and you whimper as you give a hesitant nod of your head. 

Remus senses your hesitation, stops the grinding of your hips as he talks. “Here,” he begins, lifting your hips up and shifting you so that you’re now straddling one of his thighs. “Rub on this,” he tells you, and when he bounces his legs your mouth drops and you gasp loudly as his hard thigh makes contact with your aching clit. 

“Think you could cum from this?” His question is a whisper in your ear as you rest your head on his shoulder, hips picking up speed as you ride his thigh. 

Your hesitation to obey his request goes out the window - the way the fabric of your panties is catching your clit, his muscular thigh tensing with the exertion of moving your body against him, feels better than anything you could do to yourself.

“Yes, daddy,” you sob. “Feels so good.” 

He groans, cock twitching at the name falling from your lips. It sounds so sinful coming from someone as innocent as you, and Remus thinks that he could definitely cum from this. 

“Yeah? Doing so good.” He plants a kiss in your hair, you barely feel it, the only sensation you can feel is the drag of your cunt against him. Your hips are moving so fast now, you’re so close and Remus can tell; your moans have grown louder and you’re dragging your cunt against the fabric of his thigh so violently the chair he’s sitting in is starting to rock with your bodies. 

“I think I- oh, daddy,” your clit is throbbing, core quivering around nothing as you roll your hips against Remus’ thigh; It’s beginning to feel overwhelming, and your legs are burning with exhaustion. “I can’t,” you sob.

Remus shushes you, plants a firm kiss to your head before his grip on your hips tightens and he pulls and pushes you against him hard and fast, and you cry out again. “Let it go, baby. Cum for daddy.”

And you do, the feeling in your core exploding and washing over you, simulating actual waves that roll from your cunt and travel throughout all your limbs.

“Daddy,” you mewl, body writhing as you ride out your high. 

“I know, I know,” Remus coos, one hand moving up to cup the back of your head, the other drawing pretty patterns on your back as you sluggishly continue to drag your hips over his thigh, basking in the remnants of the orgasm that still lingers in your core. 

And when your hips stop, he plants kisses along any skin he can find until you lift your head and place your lips on his. 

You kiss him deeply, and you both moan at the feeling because something’s changed between the two of you, the atmosphere doesn’t feel the same as before. You almost pull back and ask what happens next, because there is no way the two of you can go back to normal after that. 

However, just then, once you’re finally still and your mind isn’t flooded with arousal as it was before, can you feel the hard length of Remus’ cock nudging your thigh. 

You lean your head back, still close enough to feel his lips brush against yours, and your hand travels to his cock and squeezes it as you speak.

“Need some help with that?”

taglist: @hufflepuffsfordraco​ @juulico @crazypantlady  (if your username is marked out check your privacy settings!) 

↳if you wanna be added to my taglist, click here  

[jortsaaaaaaart]

To Be Forgotten Amongst Friends chp1

Omega! Reader x avengers

Hello all! I revamped my story "ikaros" and this is the new story! Also the name is long rip.

Trigger warnings (later chapters mostly)- ptsd, noncon, kidnapping, human experimentation, Stockholm and lima syndrome

The following chapters will be posted on- https://archiveofourown.org/works/33890977     (seriously- may not post here that often cause i hate the tagging system- go check out ao3)

It's a beautiful day in New York and you're a terrible, no good, thief. 

You were considered New York’s very own Robin Hood. Two hundred ATM robberies in two years, the money flying out of the machines and into the hands of people who needed it. The banks, collectively, had lost over $300,000 from the ATMs alone. But of course, it wasn't just the ATMs. A rash of robberies had spread over the East coast. Most were digital, companies funneling their own money to offshore accounts that wanted nothing to do with U.S. intervention. The FBI were notified, then the CIA, and eventually- after a daring cyber attack against the DOD- SHIELD itself turned it's one eyed gaze onto you.

Nick Fury saw something the other agencies didn't. You had certain gifts that made your line of work incredibly easy. Whether they were natural mutations or some sort of superpower, they allowed you to break into some of the most secure networks known to man. He had almost found you when SHIELD fell and his resources vanished. After the dust cleared he was forced to start from scratch. Hunting you and the remnants of Hydra down at the same time wasn't easy, but, in a strange twist of fate, he found someone else that was searching for you too.

+++

New York was filled with so many people. Most of them were good, in your opinion. (Well, maybe half, actually.) You spent most of your off time working on "projects" or walking around the city. You had become a fixture at the local Bodega. Single omegas were extremely  rare, marked single omegas were almost unheard of. The mark gave you certain freedoms other omegas, sadly, didn't have. It drove away most potential suitors and the ones who were particularly bold would be given a taste of your powers. Once the burrow had gotten used to your presence they saw you as a generous person, but a secretive one. Someone who took no shit even with their designation. You gave to the community and different Omega rights groups in the area. After years of watching you quietly go about helping people you had been welcomed into the burrow's heart with open arms.

You loved helping people in your own way. You loved it just as much as you hated corporations and the police, but when you could make an ATM spew it's contents out into the poorest streets of Brooklyn or make Fox News send a million dollars to Planned Parenthood, you could have the best of both worlds.

At least, for a time. All good things had to end, right? That's what you told yourself as the redhead picked her way through the crowd towards you. 

Seeing an avenger in your neighborhood was an odd occurrence. It was a poorer part of town, untouched in the battle of New York, and too out of the way for any super villain origin stories. In fact, you seemed to be the only mutant in the entire block. You'd always thought, if someone was going to come for you, it would be a couple of FBI agents and not the fucking Black Widow. Your brain and heart went into overdrive as you tried to remember doing anything worth the avenger's time. But there was nothing. The DOD hack had been almost a year ago and all you did was release government files showing attacks on civilians overseas. It hardly seemed like an avengers worthy crime, especially when Black Widow herself had leaked government secrets before.

Any hope of her not not looking for you was dashed when her eyes locked onto yours. She tilted her head, asking a silent question. 

The burst of adrenaline sent you careening through the lunchtime crowds. You couldn't feel anyone on the rooftops but there was a large form blocking your path, trying to box you in. They were stronger and faster but you knew the environment. You ducked into Charlie's, your sneakers skidding on the asphalt as you took the sharp turn. The person behind the counter lazily looked up as you walked to the back. They knew you well enough to not care, they also weren't paid enough to care. The alley would open up into a busy side street. More people meant a better chance to blend in and get away. You were almost to the end when the door opened behind you. Black Widow and fucking Captain America stepped into the alley. For a moment the three of you stood in something akin to a standoff. 

You felt wildly undressed for this life-threatening situation.

"We just want to talk, (Y/N)" Captain America told you, hands raised. The unmistakable stink of an alpha radiated from the captain. You were momentarily thankful for your mark dulling its effect on you. Though, the blonde's scent was tinged with something hauntingly familiar. Something you didn't want to recognize.

Behind him, Black widow's free hand went to her ear. "Target is in the alley between 31st and 32nd," A twitch of your finger and the line went dead. Her hand dropped to the gun at her hip.

"I'm feeling pretty under equipped for this 'conversation'," You replied, slowly raising your hands as well, wondering if they could feel what you were doing. They didn't react and you slowly let your power seep from you.

Natasha was the first to react, drawing her gun and spinning around. Steve looked at her with confusion as her wide eyes scanned the alley as if she was seeing ghosts. She was afraid he realized, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. He moved towards her and you took off running. You felt him hesitate then take off after you, gaining on you with an embarrassingly low number of strides. You tried your powers again, stronger this time, but his focus was unwavering. He was almost to you now and you were running out of options. That’s when the alpha in him came out.

“Omega!” He snarled, “Stop!” Your feet slowed down immediately. It wasn’t as strong as your own alpha’s command would be, but the super soldier certainly commanded respect and obedience. You were forced to stand still, eyes burning holes in the asphalt, as the alpha’s footsteps grew closer. You really didn't want to do this but it looked like you had no choice. Your jaw clenched, and you spun around when his hand grabbed your arm. The blonde's eyes widened as you placed a palm to his chest. 

He barely had time to glance down at your hand before the electricity hit him.

The 1,000 volts you sent into him were supposed to stun him or send him flying, allowing you to escape. However, his muscles spasmed just a bit stronger than you intended. In an instant his grip crushed the bones in your arm and sent the two of you careening backwards into a brick wall. Natasha would find you a moment later, passed out on top of the super soldier, a sizable hole in the wall.

You woke up in an unfamiliar bed, a few blurry white shapes milled about in the corners of your vision. You couldn't remember how you got here, or where here was. All your senses seemed to be dulled. Your wrist was throbbing and each time you opened your eyes the room came in and out of focus. You closed your eyes, opting to ignore the funhouse effect and focus on the sounds around you. The beeping of the monitors, footsteps on concrete, and two low voices.

"She's alright, Buck, I promise." Steve's voice wavered in and out of your consciousness bringing with it the memory of how you got into this bed. "She did something to Nat and ran before I could explain. I wasn't expecting her powers to be so strong."

"I should have come with you," Another voice snarled. Your heart skipped a beat at the low growl. You knew that voice. It evoked a sickening combination of need and terror and you couldn't remember why. "She wouldn't have gotten hurt if I had. What idiot doesn't know omegas are fragile?!"

"It was an accident!" His voice raised slightly before sighing. "I know you're worried, but she's fine."

The scent you had smelled on Steve earlier swirled around the room. Metal and burning pine, it affected you just like the voice had, triggering both panic and yearning. You knew it somehow. The memory was there somewhere, tucked away where it couldn’t hurt you. Where it should have been forgotten.

The scent grew unbearably strong as he leaned over you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. When he pulled back he wasn't expecting his eyes to catch yours. 

His expression softened as soon as he realized you were awake. "Omega," Bucky whispered reverently. Stormy blue eyes stared down at you with love and adoration, watching the color drain from your face. "Doll?" 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you could hear the panicked beeping of the machines and Steve trying to calm you down. But it didn't matter. All that you could feel was the need to get far, far, away from this man. You didn't know how you knew him but you knew he was dangerous. You knew he had hurt you. That's why, as he reached out to gently cup your face, you slapped his hand away. 

"Get away from me!" You gasped, voice breaking. You scooted back and tried to back up as far as possible. Your shaky legs barely held your weight as you slid off the bed. Pure terror coursed through your veins, it was the only thing keeping you on your feet. You found yourself pressed into the corner of the room while the men stared at you in shock. Steve and Bucky gaped like you had just told them the Germans had actually won WWII. Eyebrows knit together, blue eyes wide and frantic, Bucky looked like he was in emotional turmoil.

“(Y/N), doll, it’s okay. It’s me. It’s your alpha.” Bucky reached out to you carefully as a low purr rumbled from his chest.

You felt the purr relax you and dull your senses even more. It was nauseating. “I don’t have an alpha! And I don’t know who the hell you are!” You tried to shout and grit your teeth but the words came out in broken sobs, betraying your weakness. Who was this? Why was he the most terrifying thing you had ever seen?

Your teeth were bared at this point but the man kept coming towards you. The tunnel vision and rapid shallow breaths were the only warnings your body gave you as it reverted to its animalistic omega framework. Bucky watched as, in slow motion, your eyes went blank as your body gave out. 

+++

Your alpha held your body to his chest in disbelief. He had expected some shock at seeing him but this went far beyond his expectations. It had been over three years since he'd last seen you. Since he'd last been able to drink in your scent. He'd figured you might not recognize him at first. He had changed a lot over the years. No longer under Hydra's control his physical appearance, demeanor, and scent had changed. But your body should've known your alpha. 

"What was that?" Steve asked. "Why did she react like that when she has your mark?" The two alphas were on edge. Seeing a vulnerable omega drop triggered their protective instincts. Steve desperately wanted to take you and hold you close, ease you out of the drop. If the alpha holding you was anyone other than his closest friend and packmate he would have ripped you out of his grasp immediately. For now he'd have to hold himself back.

"She didn't remember me." Bucky nuzzled his head into your neck, nursing your mark softly. After a moment he pulled back and gazed at your unchanged features. He couldn't wake you from this drop that easily. He pressed in harder this time, teeth lining up with the scar perfectly, but there was still no change. No purr, command, or bite was waking you up.

"We should let her rest, Buck. The pain meds will wear off soon and we'll try again. . . Bring her to the den. She'll need to get used to everyone's scents sooner or later." Steve laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. It was a gentle but firm suggestion. He knew tensions were high, the den, with it's heavy curtains and plush blankets, would calm down his friend and the omega. With little argument the brunette lifted you up and carried you to the den. It was aptly named and extremely well constructed thanks to Stark. Curtains blocked off all light from the windows, mattresses were inlaid into the ground, and the temperature was always cool. It was one good thing about being in a pack with that narcissist, Bucky thought dryly.

Steve led them into a cozy corner of the room. The captain hummed happily as they moved the pillows and blankets, creating a makeshift nest for the three of them. The feeling of the omega pressing into his chest was addictive. He couldn't wait for you to remember your alpha.

The sooner you remembered your bond with Bucky the sooner the rest of the pack, Steve included, could court you.

[headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne]

Dark Souls 3 Chain Number 2

It took a while, but the next chain for Dark Souls 3 is ready. The chain resolves around the character of the Nameless King. Please enjoy the art and writing and give some love to the individual authors and artists. The original prompt was: "How the Nameless King spends his day on Arch Dragon Peak"

@mrslittletall (me, the mun btw)

His day began with waking up. He would slowly open his eyes with the sunrise, remove the blanket from his body and hop out of bed, making sure to stretch until his bones popped. A whole new day laid in front of him.

But first, he needed to take care of himself. His feet carried him to the small bathroom near his room, where he made sure to freshen himself up a little, trying to brush his hair also. After he once again broke one of his brushes, he decided to give up and just let his white mane fall over his shoulders like usual.

Now he only needed to get dressed and could properly start his day.

The one walking to the kitchen had once been known as the Sunfirstborn, Prince Gwynfor, dragon slayer and son of Lord Gwyn. After he had been banished, the humans he had met had given him a new name... Faraam, the god of war. Most of the time, he preferred to not go by any name at all though. If someone needed a title for him, he would be the Nameless King for them.

After all, his original name had been stripped from him, alongside with his titles and everything else that had once made him Gwynfor. He didn't want it back.

He arrived at the kitchen and started to prepare breakfast. Back in his old life... he hadn't been a good cook. There had never been a need for him to learn how to cook. It had been the job of the servants while he trained or went out on the battlefield. He always had been out and about, finding the next fight, rarely coming home, not interested in politics and stuff at all.

That changed. After having been on his own for so long, he needed to learn how to care for himself, so he started to learn cooking, and he wished he would have done it sooner. He had a knack for cooking. It was a fun activity with rewarding results. He had become better and better at cooking over the centuries and now he had a wide range of dishes he could prepare, depending on which kind of ingredients he could get his hands on.

Thanks to the little vegetable garden they managed to maintain on Archdragon Peak, his diet also had become a lot healthier as opposed to the myriads of meat he would have eaten in his old life.

It wasn't that he didn't have meat though, he very much looked at a large lump of meat right at this moment. This meat simply wasn't for him.

Once he had finished preparing breakfast for himself, he cut the meat in pieces, putting it all in one big bowl. After having washed his hands, he took both his meal and the bowl outside, putting the bowl on the ground.

The King of the Storms, his loyal storm drake, was perched on a near arch, preening his wings. He stopped when he noticed the new presence and spread his wings, landing next to his rider shortly after, screeching in joy and pretty much forcing his muzzle into his hand.

“Good morning to you too.”, the Nameless King smiled at his storm drake, giving him a firm pat on the beak. “I hope you slept well. Let's have breakfast together.”

The two of them would always take in their breakfast together. The Nameless King knew that the King of Storms could hunt on his own, but in a world where dragons weren't a welcome sight in the sky, he preferred to feed him a majority of his food, only allowing his drake to hunt when he was present.

After all, there still might be dragon slayers out there...

The both of them enjoyed their meal in comfortable silence, the Nameless King chewing on his prepared vegetables and the King of Storm having buried his beak into the bowl of meat. Soon, the meal had come to an end and the Nameless King stood up, picking up the bowl.

“Time for the dishes.”, he said, watching as the long tongue of the King of Storms cleaned his bloodied muzzle. The Nameless King would always clean the dishes right after eating, it was part of his daily routine. He was more at ease when loads of dirty dishes would not wait for him.

Cleaning the dishes didn't take long and once he had them all dried and put away, he snatched a broom and started to clean out his living quarters. Another daily routine he had gotten used to. It was unbelievable how easy it was for his living quarters to gather dust and dirt. He swore, he cleaned these rooms every day and they still would be dirty on the next.

After all the dirt in his living quarters was gone, he went outside and swept the area there. The King of the Storms had left in the meantime. When he looked into the sky, he could see him soaring through the sky, always staying in line of sight. He didn't mind, his drake would come to him as soon as he called.

He swept through the area until he encountered the serpent man, busy with their own work. They had failed the path of the dragon. Now they lived here, keeping the monastery alive. He had learned their snake tongue and they had accepted him as some kind of leader, even though he never wanted to. Most of the time, he left them to their own, only intervening when they needed help with a problem.

“Good morning.”, he said in their hissing tongue, getting a few “Good mornings.” back. A lot of them were too busy to truly notice him, cleaning up, changing out candles, preparing food... it was busy and their presence made him feel less lonely.

Now that he had cleaned his quarters (the serpent men wouldn't touch it), it was time to meditate. He had started it shortly after arriving on Archdragon Peak. His older self would have scoffed at sitting around and doing nothing, but he very much cherished the emptying of the mind and getting a much more clear feel for everything around him.

He sometimes wondered how he had managed to live back then. Maybe he hadn't even lived... just hurried from battlefield to battlefield, seldom taking time to breath... to actually... live.

He meditated until it was time for lunch. During earlier meditation sessions, his stomach would have painfully reminded him that it was time to eat, but now he could control himself enough that he could meditate for a full day without feeling the need to eat. Still, there wasn't a need for him to starve himself, so he got up and prepared himself some lunch.

After lunch, he went to the little farm side and helped the serpent men out maintaining it. Harvesting ripe crops, planning the sowing of new vegetables depending on the season, feeding the chickens and collecting their eggs. It wasn't much, but they managed to get enough food that nobody would get hungry, as long as they would make preparations for winter. They always made sure to lay food to the side to dry or pickle.

It took a good part of the day and when the sun started to slowly set, it was time... There was a small altar on the Archdragon Peak where he would pick them up. Despite everything, he still had loyal followers, engaging in jolly cooperation.

He smiled when he saw the countless sunlight medals piled upon the altar. His followers had been busy. He sat down and collected them, then he worked into rearranging them into miracles. He would write down the stories on the scrolls and imbue them with the power of the sunlight medals, up until the sun had gone down for good and not a single sunlight medal was left.

He laid the prepared miracles on the altar. They would find their new owners coming the next day. He wasn't quite ready to end his day though, instead, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the prayer of one of his followers.

He smiled when he noticed the knight engaging in jolly cooperation. He was one of his favourites. He wore a tabard with a painted yellow sun with a goofy smile on it, the same sun was on his shield and always, always he would find him staring at the sun.

He watched as the battle took place, against two creatures known as Gargoyles. Once the last of them had fallen, the warrior of sunlight would return to his own time with a praise of the sun, while his host, the one who had called him, waved frantically.

The Nameless King lost the connection, but he stood up with a lighter heart. Tomorrow, he would do the same. And the day after tomorrow as well, but his heart shone when he thought about that his sunlight warriors would keep his legacy alive. @kayleighwhatever

@dbzespio

His hair was long, smooth, and free, framed by his stately crown. His hand gently rested upon flawless marble, just beside his old robe, which was stained dark red, doubtless soaked with blood.

Tiny medals littered the marbled surface, golden faces streaked with sunlight seemed to stare back at him as Ornstein silently gazed at them, his mind curious as his heart pondered the strange items’ intended purpose. But, more than that, he...

A voice, soft, yet somehow strong, and several octaves deep, broke the silence, as his eyes seemed to pierce the very air between them.   

“Could I hear your thoughts, Dragon Slayer Ornstein?”

The old, creaking and teetering elevator cranked to a stop with a halting screech, jarring the dragon slayer from his reverie. He immediately readied his lance with a resounding crackle of electricity. 

Now was not the time for idle memories. 

He was confident in his strength, of that there was no doubt, but he would not allow anyone (regardless of how stately and enigmatic the memories they drew from him) to temper his resolve. No one, be they beast, man (living or undead), or other shameless abomination, would be allowed even but a moment to gain an advantage over him. He was, and would always be, ever alert.

Though it appeared the corridor he had been brought to was utterly empty, devoid of any threat whatsoever.

Here, the outer dungeon wall had been broken, most likely carved away, or rather, shorn asunder, powerless before the ire of one as mighty as a dragon. Indeed, he knew their strength well, and none other would hardly be sufficient to wreak such devastation. 

A pleasantly cool breeze met the slight gaps within Ornstein’s still-pristine armor, the plumes upon his head dancing lightly as the wind resonated along the open cliffside. Several corpses (or were they husks?) littered the edge of the cliff face, just ahead of him. All of them were seated, or had, at least, been seated before they had fallen over, their lifeless forms now empty and hollow, so much so that even the meager breeze was enough to topple them. 

Ornstein studied their postures; many of them were still rigid, even despite their frailty. 

Then this was no mere place of simple repose… these people, creatures…? They were here for a purpose. Though for what purpose, he was uncertain. 

Standing beside the creatures, he peered out beyond the cliffside; but the clouds were thick, and the winds, strong. He could practically see the currents themselves, given the swift movements of the clouds. However, the view beyond was thoroughly obscured. Whatever these folk thought interesting about the place, he would not be able to ascertain, at least not for now.

With a gentle clink of chainmail, Ornstein sat amongst the husks, pausing to watch them each with a searching glare, as if the corpses might, at any moment, spring to life and attack at will.

But they did not move; tiny fibers from their skin and clothes waved quietly in the wind, but that was all that stirred.      

Eventually his eyes left those of the fallen, and he gazed ahead, into the clouded currents, whipping wildly as if a storm were about to brew.

No matter. He would wait until it was finished.

~~~

Whose blood was this?

Ornstein wanted to grab the fabric, look it over, by the Lord, was it actually a garment? An improvised tourniquet? How had it come to be stained such?

“Dragon Slayer Ornstein? Will you share your thoughts?”

Mine?

He suddenly found he didn’t have a voice. His words were lost, trapped in his throat, his worry obfuscating all else.

When Ornstein glanced up, startled at the inquiring voice, he found its owner had not stirred. He was patiently waiting, genuinely waiting for an opinion. 

His opinion. He had never given it before.

And certainly not to one of his status.

Instructions, battle tactics, he was accustomed to relaying them, not inventing and choosing them for himself.  

“Milord, I do not…” 

Even to him, Ornstein’s voice sounded odd, halting, weak. But still, he endeavored to answer as well as he could, as his lord was silently waiting. 

“I do not understand.”

His lord did not answer right away. Instead, his gaze turned elsewhere. 

“I see,” he said, finally, turning to leave. 

And that was the last time Ornstein had ever seen him.

His fading form twisted, almost as if he was…

~~~

Ornstein gasped, springing forward into awakening. 

By the Lord above, when had he fallen asleep?!

He startled again, looking about himself wildly.

But he was alone. Standing there along an open cliffside. 

Wait. Where were the husks?

Gone, it seemed. Or was he somewhere else entirely?

He gazed out beyond the edge of the cliff, and it was just as before; the clouds were thick and full, and the wind was stirring wildly, as if a storm was on the cusp of forming. Out here, he was exposed; the cliffside was hardly much wider than himself and without much cover from above either.       

He readied his lance and ran ahead, ready to take on any and all who should dare oppose him. 

Several man-serpents answered the call, lunging forth from rocks and rumble to challenge him with rusted weapons. Unlike those within Sen’s Fortress, they were dressed in mere rags, skittering about furtively in an attempt to sneak past his guard. 

A futile attempt. 

His spear, as well polished as the day it was wrought, made quick work of the rogues, enough so that he almost felt bored, his only obstacle involving dodging paltry bursts of pyromancy here and there.  

Once the horde of them had been dispatched, that was when he saw it: a living, breathing wyvern. 

He glared at the beast as it roared, its cry seeming to pierce the very air itself. Ornstein used the time to demonstrate his namesake, charging his spear full with electricity and launching the sparks its way. 

The dragon shrieked again as the energy pulsed past its scaly flesh. 

Ornstein took the opportunity to rush forward, his spear clutched tightly to his side. 

When facing an enemy far larger than oneself, it was crucial to exploit their weaknesses. Dragon scales were hardy; their defenses dulled most standard attacks. But their scales were weakest upon their faces… 

As he hurried ahead, Ornstein shifted his grip on his spear, such that he held each of its two protruding prongs firmly within each hand. Once he reached the wyvern, he plunged his weapon deep into its face, right between the eyes.

The dragon succumbed to his strength then. The mighty Dragon Slayer had triumphed yet again.

He whirled his spear about himself, clearing it of the beast’s blood and gore. 

Then he was finally free to find himself an alcove to hide away within… Surely the storm would approach very soon. 

But when he awoke, he found the sky had not cleared at all. It was just as always, as though a storm might approach at any minute. 

Strange…

Ornstein arose, standing out within the open air, gazing at the ominous clouds. That was when he saw it; a wyvern flying about, seemingly surveying the lands below. 

Ornstein was without his archers; his own men had actually attacked him once he had left Anor Londo, apparently still bound to the illusion that had admittedly fooled Ornstein himself for ages.

Without a bow, he wouldn’t be able to attack until the beast landed. In the meantime, he could, at least, draw some attention to himself. Perhaps it would be enough to entice the creature down to his level.

Ornstein held his spear aloft, electric sparks crackling to life before letting loose, surrounding the dragon slayer with raging bolts of energy. 

This caught the dragon’s notice, and it swiftly circled down, soaring to land before him. 

But this dragon was not like the countless others he had faced before… No, it had a rider; someone was perched upon its powerful neck. 

Ornstein could only stare, baffled, as the man leapt from the beast’s neck to stand before him. 

Tall, with hair long and wild, held back by a rusted crown, his body wrapped in rags, the one before him was but a hollow and distant echo of his past self.

“Dragon Slayer Ornstein…” 

His voice sounded garbled and gruff, the only indication that he was, in fact, one and the same as the mighty prince he had once served was the exact level of its deepness.

“Have you come here in hopes of renewing your namesake?”

Ornstein didn’t move; he stood still, transfixed at the sight.

Was this one truly…?

He waited, apparently for a response, but when none came, he continued, “You stand before the King of the Storm, and I will not stand idly by as one such as you continues to slay my brethren.”

Said king reached back for the wyvern, offering its brow a tender stroke of his hand.

His… brethren?

Surely Ornstein was still dreaming. Dragons were the mortal enemies of the gods, and as such, it was his duty to slay them. To say or believe otherwise… was…

“What is your intention, Dragon Slayer?” he asked again and grasped the spear at his side, firmly within his hand. “Speak now, for I shall not ask again.”

“My… intention…?” Ornstein repeated, his voice weak from disuse. 

How long had his travels been? The days had bled into months, and those months slowly into years… He knew not.

He cleared his throat, as the King of the Storm gazed back at him in silence. 

“I…” 

He searched about himself, as if it would reveal to him his answers. 

“I don’t... know.”

Without a word, the king motioned to the dragon; it took to the skies alone as he fastened his spear to his back. “Come,” he said, leading the way.

~~~

Ornstein watched, puzzled and disoriented, as the king prepared meager foodstuffs and a draught of brew with his own hands. “Eat,” he said, placing half of said items before him, the old, wooden table creaking somewhat from the sudden weight.

“I… cannot,” Ornstein replied, his voice once again weak from such extended disuse.

“There is plenty,” he told him, sitting across from him and partaking immediately. 

“My vows…” Ornstein began; but he found he could not finish the statement, so he silently removed his helm and began to nourish himself with the proffered food and ale.

The king regarded him for but a moment before resuming his meal. The two of them ate and drank in silence, with Ornstein occasionally gazing at the abundant medals lying about, the sun streaking alongside the engraved faces, as though they were crowned by its rays.

Once finished, he wiped his face with a cloth, offering it to Ornstein next. But he declined, replacing his helm the moment he drained his cup.

The king washed their plates, drenching them in a nearby basin. Once his task was complete, he beckoned to Ornstein. The dragon slayer followed him to a door, behind which lay a bed covered with an assortment of skins and stuffed well with hay. “Rest,” he said.

Once Ornstein awoke, the king was nowhere to be found, so he wandered the tiny shack. Another bed, much like his, along with a washbasin consisted of the far side, while a small great room opened beyond the kitchen and dining place. 

In here, a large chair covered with skins similar to those upon the beds was nestled behind a stone rampart, which was collapsed in a heap of hubble at the bottom, no longer tall and proud. The stone had likely been carved long before the house had ever been erected, and upon it, lie a large, bloodstained garment. Ornstein dared not touch it, but he felt he could recognize the robe as one he had seen before. 

All along the stone surface, hundreds of tiny medals lined the area, all of them the very same as the ones he had seen upon the dining table, each of them framed with the rays of the sun.

A noise at the entryway had Ornstein turn about, but he was not surprised at the intrusion. 

The King of the Storm. Or rather… the Nameless King?

His eyes met Ornstein’s as he waited, perhaps for the dragon slayer to speak first. 

But he would not. He could not.

Finally he exhaled, drawing himself to his full height. “Are you here for instructions?”

Ornstein did not answer. For he did not know what to say.

He paused though not for very long. “You will not find them here.”

He left the entry, walking past Ornstein to pace along the span of the battlement, allowing his hand to brush across the stone as he went, his fingers knocking over several piles of stacked medals. “I may be a king,” he said, knocking over a particularly tall stack with his outstretched palm, several medals crashing right down to the floor, “but I do not seek servants.”

“No,” he continued, stopping and resting both hands upon the stone, his large hands covering a few of the nearby medals, “I have never wanted that.”

He lifted his hands, spreading them each to their opposite sides, as if to say, ‘well, what is it?’

“Cooperation,” he said grandly, his voice suddenly taking back its stateliness and quiet splendor. “That is what I truly long for.”

He looked at Ornstein. “And what are your thoughts, Dragon Slayer Ornstein?”

“You…” Ornstein’s tired voice trembled, still unused to its own sound. “You ask for my opinion?” 

His gaze remained. “I do.”

For a moment, Ornstein did not know what to say. “You speak as if…”

He felt wrong for even acknowledging it, let alone saying so. “As if… we are equals…?”

The king did not answer right away, seemingly taking in his words. 

Then he shook his head, softly at first but soon turning resolute. “We are both alive on this day… We each walk beneath the sun, do we not? What is this… this division which separates us?”

“Milord, you said as such yourself,” Ornstein affirmed, momentarily wringing his hands before extending them. “You are a king. As such, you alone have the right to speak your mind.”

“I am the King of the Storm. I rule over no land; none have sworn an oath to me.”

Then you are indeed the Nameless King.

Ornstein believed as such, but he would not dare to utter it aloud.

“I deserve no rights over any other,” he continued. “For what is a king without a land and subjects?”

“I would pose that question to you,” Ornstein ventured to say. “How came you to claim such a title?”

“Such is better seen than heard,” he said, moving to leave. “Follow me.”

The two left the shack, and the Nameless King pointed up at the sky above. “Such is my namesake.”

“This storm? It is your doing?”

“Such protects this realm,” he told him. “I sought peace, and my father refused it. So I forged my own path. You stand within it.”

“Peace?” Ornstein echoed. “You sought peace with… With dragons?”

“They live and breathe, and walk beneath the sun, just as you and I…” He turned to face him. “Is peace truly so impossible?”

Ornstein did not know how to answer that question. “You have allied with them,” he said finally. “And I have killed one of your own.”

“You have,” he agreed. “But such is your calling.” 

He did not speak for a long while. “Will you renounce it?” 

“Re...nounce?” 

The very word felt foul upon Ornstein’s tongue.

A heavy hand fell upon his shoulder. Ornstein feared that the king might seize him, force him to bend to his will, but…

The hand merely directed him to face him. The king’s eyes bore heavily into his own. “Can a dragon slayer live in peace within a realm where dragons roam, free to live as they wish?”

“I don’t…” Ornstein’s voice felt heavy and tired, but now for a reason other than disuse. “I don’t know.”

The hand left his shoulder. “A fair answer.”

A fair answer? How?

He felt it wrong to question, but he wished to speak. And here, it seemed, he would be free to do so. 

“I don’t understand,” Ornstein spoke. 

The Nameless King’s gaze quickly returned to him, as if he were startled into surprise. “What plagues you?”

“You say it is fair for a dragon slayer to not know… That it is a fair thing, for him to live amongst those he had formerly seen fit to slay as he ponders his path forward?”

A flicker of a smile lit his face. “I know you well… Ornstein. You are one of honor; you would not slay my brethren without first informing me of your decision. Of that, I am certain.”

Him? Honorable?

A flush crept over his cheeks, warming his helm, almost suffocatingly so. 

“Come,” the Nameless King beckoned. “It has been a long morning. I shall prepare us breakfast.”

“Another… thought.” Ornstein turned to look at him. “How is it that a king has taken to preparing meals?”

“Even a king lives and breathes, and walks beneath the sun, does he not?” 

A smile warmed his face. “And how might a king protect his realm, if he is famished and thirsty? He must first tend to himself before he will ever be able to tend to others.”

“A fair thought,” Ornstein acknowledged. “And... a true one.”

His smile widened. “I am glad to hear it.”

Ornstein clasped a hand over his heart. It felt good to speak aloud, his thoughts, his concerns, his opinions… Would his questions be acceptable as well?

“If I may,” his hand left his heart, “might I pose a question? Or perhaps... more than just one?”

The mighty king laughed. “You may, indeed!”

Such was foreign to Ornstein, but it was indeed beautiful, and a merry sound, one that he would like to hear again.  

“In here…” Ornstein hurried inside, back before the old stone rampart. “I believe I recognize this robe as yours… How came it to be stained so?”

“You recognize this?” the Nameless King echoed, his brows raised slightly in surprise as he smoothed a hand over the fabric, knocking over several medals as he did so. “It is indeed mine, from long ago. It is stained with the blood of dragons, and I keep it here to serve as a reminder.”

“A reminder... For what purpose?”

A grim smile overtook his features now. “I do not wish to ever return to my old life, one of death and suffering. Hence, my reminder… to never fall astray again.”

So the blood was that of dragons… A great relief washed over him, for a worry that he had held within him for ages was now, at last, sated. 

“And this?” Ornstein held up a medal in his hand. It was warm; he could feel its pleasant heat even through his gauntlet. “What is this?”

A brow lifted, but a smile soon crossed the Nameless King’s face. “It is your hand.”

He took it, his fingers resting atop Ornstein’s hand as their palms pressed together, the medal trapped between them.

Ornstein blinked. “You do not see them? The sunlight medals? They are everywhere.”

“Are they?” A small, breathy chuckle escaped him. “Well… perhaps they are offerings? To myself or to some other? I would know not. My past is lost to me here, save for my spear and this old robe.”

“Perhaps.” 

Ornstein gazed at the Nameless King’s hand, still cradled by his own, as a smile finally warmed his face. His first for ages. 

~~~

Before the sun was set, a suit of armor, as well polished as the day it was wrought, was laid out to rest, golden and resplendent beneath the sun’s rays. 

The mighty Dragon Slayer’s name was now Ornstein, and he chose the path of jolly cooperation, forsaking his past and his sins. 

Of course, such knowledge was lost to history; it merely lived on and existed within the heart of the Nameless King.  @omelevate

@ghoulsteak

The wind plays a song on Ornstein’s bones. He is the Lion Knight, one of the four great heroes of the age, but this mountain knows nothing of him. 

The snow does not care for his great deeds, nor the rock for his strength, nor the ice for his skill. The mountain is older than the gods and their lightning, older even than the dragons, perhaps. If this adversary breaks him, it will paint over him in white, like a censor, and he will be forgotten. 

This, more than anything, is what keeps him moving. Strength may falter and skill may wane, but Ornstein’s pride burns like a poker thrust between his ribs. It is a killing pride, cultivated and stoked white-hot for a dozen mortal lifetimes, and it will be what destroys him. He is certain of that. 

But it hasn’t destroyed him yet. And so Ornstein climbs.

-

Again and again he sees it. The monastery on the peak, cresting the mist like a great ship, shining beneath the unveiled sun. He sees it from the raw backs of ridges, from the frigid shade of glacier-ground valleys, always beyond his reach. It taunts him, sets a labyrinth of stone and ice in his path and beckons him through it with the distant sound of its bells. 

There is no doubt in his mind that the Nameless King roosts there. He has scoured the world from end to end; if not here at its utmost pinnacle, upon the raw edge of all things, then where?

His god can hide from him no longer. 

-

Though the monastery recedes like a mirage, it can only retreat so far. It stands with its back to a howling gulf, built into and upon the precipice like an eagle with its claws curled over the edge of its perch. Ornstein approaches clad in the old armour, the old splendour, his hide-splitting spear in hand. When his lord sees him, he wishes it to be as if time has stood still for them both. As if the age of the gods was still at hand, and the title of dragonslayer still meant something to the living. 

The distant mutter of a storm rolls across the mountains. He takes it as a good omen; lightning has ever been his friend. 

-

The monastery gates stand open. Ornstein passes within unopposed, through the outermost courtyard and into a high, dim hall. The thick scent of incense fills his helm, the dragon-breath of a hundred brass braziers. Man-serpents wrapped in rags slip in and out of view amongst the columns and cloisters, sussurating to each other with their springtrap mouths and flickering tongues. Ornstein’s presence agitates them, craven, lesser creatures that they are, lower even than mortal men. They do well to fear me, he tells himself, but he can derive no pleasure from it.

Through an archway he sees a pilgrim, a heretic knight, kneeling unhelmed before a great swaybacked man-serpent. As he watches, the man-serpent upends a feasting bowl over the knight’s head, an anointment. Even through the incense, he knows the hot stench of drakeblood, and turns away in revulsion.

Wretched things and blood-mad fools, but worse still are the dragonkin, the self-made abominations. He took them for blasphemous statues at first, so still they are, yet their fleshless heads turn to follow him as he passes. Ornstein’s grip tightens upon his spear at the sight of them, but there is nothing in that gaze for him, not even hatred. For an instant he sees himself as they see him, a gaudy, ephemeral thing, the last gleam of a setting sun. His blood rises. Not yet. Not yet, dragonslayer. He will find his king first, and together they will scour this place with steel and thunder ‘til its foundations are torn from the mountainside.

He does not give much thought to why the Firstborn has not done this already, if this truly is where he’s settled. He does not pay any heed to the broad-shouldered statues with their familiar faces. Ornstein believes in his king. He feeds his disgust and doubts to the furnace of his grand convictions, and pushes onwards. 

Still he goes unhindered, as if this place has long awaited his coming. Through the heady, spiced air and bottomless shadows of the great halls, out again into a place open to the sky. A great open space below the coiling expanse of the storm. A high bridge flanked by statues, each bearing a magnificent spear. Something stirs the wind. 

From out of the heart of the storm, his god descends. 

-

Wreathed in trailing cloud, borne upon wings that bend the gale beneath them, great and terrible and unrelenting, he is everything Ornstein remembers and so much that he had forgotten.

The Firstborn of Gwyn’s mount lands upon the bridge, shaking the snow from its feathers. Dragon though it may be, it is almost beautiful to Ornstein, for it has brought back his king to him. 

“My lord!” Ornstein cries out in the tongue of the gods. It has been so long since he spoke it that he almost stumbles over the words. “My lord!” His voice is cracked and faded with disuse. “Long have I sought you!” 

No answer. His king does not dismount from his steed and come to him, arms outstretched. The hailstorm in his gaze does not soften into rain. 

“It is I, Ornstein! Ornstein, who served you through the war, who you made Captain over the Four!” 

The Nameless King raises his spear heavenward. The storm turns above them both. The taste of metal lies heavy upon Ornstein’s tongue. And still, he has not yet lost hope. 

“Tell me you have not forgotten me!” 

Thunder crashes and reverberates off the stone of the monastery. His voice drowns in it. There is no answer coming but this: wrath, wordless wrath, spoken in the unintelligible words of the thunderstorm. 

Ornstein cannot understand. He cannot understand that his king does not see him as his knight, for his pride will not allow it; he cannot conceive of the part he plays in the Nameless King’s tale. He is only what he is in his own eyes, and never anything else. Always the loyal knight abandoned by his master, never the could-have-been-friend who chose duty over love. Always the righteous and shining dragonslayer, never the ruiner of an ancient race. 

Always the exalted, and never the spurned. 

“My lord-!”

As the Nameless King calls the lightning and the lightning answers, Ornstein never for an instant believes that it will fall upon him.  @theschneckenhouse

@acebladespades

He wrung the cloth and scrubbed Ornstein’s chest first. The cold water slowly washed away the clots of grime and dried blood. It was a long and solitary process for the king. The corpse in his arms was his only company.

Ornstein was still warm, but the pale tone of death was quickly gaining domain over his body.

The king made a pause. The temptation of resting his hand on Ornstein's chest made his fingers itch. If he did, would he feel the vibration of a gentle heartbeat beneath his palm? Slow, weak, but ever so steady.

His body shook his mind out of its trance. Against his will, his hands carried on with the interrupted duty. The king did not resist. Detached from himself, submerged in the comforting waters of indifference, he soaked the cloth and wrung it anew. 

He scrubbed Ornstein’s face next. 

It was easy to fool himself into thinking Ornstein was peacefully sleeping in his arms.

The idea prompted the king to finish the cleansing faster.

It was, perhaps, the sole reason he finished the deed at all.

‐—-------------

Master.

The man he had once called his friend stood before him. He was drunk on rage and blinded by a lust for destruction. 

Many times Ornstein had witnessed the unleashed power of the god of war, but never before had he been its addressee. Yet, even as the hold on his spear and his courage began to falter, Ornstein’s heart was full of nothing but fondness. 

Here you were all along.

The urge to lay down his lance and give a premature end to the fight was a thought he could not ignore. It was all so foolish and nonsensical. At long last, he had found the king he’d thought forever lost. He should have been crying in joy and thanking fate for having allowed a reunion that defied all odds.

The king repaid Orntein’s sentiment with a merciless swing of his spear. The blade, coated with the divine essence of lighting, would have cut cleanly through Ornstein’s helmet and neck had he not dodged the attack with a clumsy leap.

The aftermath of the king’s failed strike followed.

The rumbling of the ground and the exploding shockwaves shattered the stone tiles and sent Ornstein flying against a decayed pillar. The metal plates of his cuirass kept his spine from splitting in half, but they did nothing to mitigate the burning sting that spread immediately across his chest and back. It was as if a raging firestorm was scorching his insides, slowly making its way to his muscles and skin.

Breathless and with a warm gush of blood rushing up his throat, Ornstein fell to the floor and there he lay, limply and unceremoniously, like a puppet with cut strings. The blood he vomited painted the insides of his helmet red. 

His mind was dispersed and broken. He could weave no coherent thought. His world had been reduced to a blurry nothingness where only his pain was real.

The tremor of strong and heavy steps coming in his direction shook Ornstein from his trance. With the last remnants of his strength, he lifted himself up.

His legs trembled, barely able to hold the weight of his armored body. Beneath his gauntlets, blood coated his hands and arms. Life leaked out of his every pore. He clung to his spear in the same manner an old  man leans against his cane to stay afoot.

The happiness, the relief, the joy of finding his lost master and friend, none of it remained in Ornstein’s heart. 

The resentment that for so long had festered inside him was all there was left. When he looked at the treacherous king again, he saw only Lord Gwyn's heretic and wayward child.

Gwyn–

Ornstein did not allow his mind to recall the complete name. He was not the king he had once served. Ornstein would not tarnish the memory of the one he had loved the most by associating his name with the dragon-adoring husk before his eyes.

Lord Gwyndolin’s and Lady Gwynevere’s brother.

Lord Gwyn’s rightful heir.

The true leader of the knights of Gwyn.

His mentor.

His friend.

His beloved.

That man is no more.

The realization brought sense and order back into Ornstein’s world. He surrendered to it and freed himself from any pretension of control he had over his actions. 

He was a knight.

The nameless and cowardly king was a traitor.

He would grant death to the failed son of Sunlight. 

Such was the punishment he was meant to deliver.

Such was the reason he had abandoned Anor Londo.

Everything else, even the tears that pricked his eyes, was an illusion crafted by his deluded heart.

—--------------------

It had not been an honorable duel to the death between two warriors. 

It had been a butchering. 

Ornstein had succeeded in landing a single  and meager strike of his lance on the king’s cheek. In retaliation, he had plunged the lighting coated-blade into the golden cuirass, pulverizing the ribcage and heart that laid underneath 

There had been no farewells, no last words of forgiveness and repentance. Ornstein had already perished by the time his gored corpse touched the floor.

The king remembered it all like he would a dream. 

He kept on walking.

It was easy for him, a god that had long mastered the art of moving forward without ever thinking of the past, like an animal ruled by its instincts and impulses, worrying itself only with the hunt of its next meal.

There was a beauty to that simplicity; it was a wisdom no human, god or demon could understand.

None except for the dragons.

The stone hall came to an end and the battlefield that had witnessed Ornstein’s last stand unfolded before the king’s eyes. 

The blood they had shed remained fresh and wet on the destroyed stone tiles. It painted  the pillars and the floor with a crimson shade, identical in tone to Ornstein’s hair.

The king tightened his hold on the naked corpse on his arms and kept on marching.

This is the fate thou chose for thineself. Thou should have not sought those who do not wish to be found.

He stopped and stood silently at the center of the arena. He did not know what to do with Ornstein’s body, he never had. The only thing he��d known for certain was that he would not burn it in a pyre and surrendered the ashes to the peak’s wind.

He would not allow the corpse of his friend to be tainted by a ritual that so closely resembled the sin of his father.

Yet, he felt no less disgust about the rest of the alternatives.

He would not preserve Ornstein with holy oils and profane magic, for it was as tasteless as it was grim.

He would not bury Ornstein deep in the ground to be devoured by maggots, like thr curse-free humans did with their dead.

If he was to grant Ornstein eternal rest—

“Ornstein.”

The corpse he carried could not answer his call. The ghost of Ornstein as he had been in times of peace appeared before him. It vanished into thin air, never to be seen again. The king fell to his knees.

He had not the strength to wonder whether what he had witnessed real or a fraudulent vision. It made no difference. 

Ornstein was dead, and he had killed him.

By not letting me go….

He held the maimed corpse closer. Their skins touched. No trace of warmth remained in his beloved.

…thineself you’ve killed.

The sound of wings fluttering above him came together with a warm breeze. With wild elegance, the Stormdrake began its descent. It  landed before the king, casting its shadow  upon him and Ornstein.

It lowered its long and ebony neck. Soon, ita beak was at the king's level. A moment passed before the Stormdrake opened its maw.

In solemn silence, the king understood. He dedicated one last gaze to Ornstein's lifeless features. Then, he placed the corpse inside the Stormdrake's gaping jaws. 

He watched as the Stormdrake devoured Ornstein bit by bit. The sound of tearing meat, the smell of fresh blood, the crunching of bones, the king made sure to brand every detail on his mind.

Perhaps, that way, Ornstein would yet live. He would always be one with his memories and soul; he would become the precious nourishment that sustained the Stormdrake's heartbeats.

Once again, together we shall be.

The feasting continued.

With his restless mind finally at peace, and with a smile adorning his burned and rotten lips, the king kept on watching until not a single bone remained. @pan-de-torao

@irnbruforthetrue

The wind whipped like a thousand razors over the peaks of the ancient fortress. What had once been anodyne to the erstwhile prince of sunlight now served as a scathing reminder of what he had relinquished. Once the frigid scythe of wind across his face had given vigour to his soul and lightning to his blood. A wind like that meant only one thing to him and his people. Dragons.

Their very presence seemed to muster wildness in the winds of the like that not even a hurricane could match. Where they flew, the storm followed. Where they roosted; lesser beings, be they man, giant, or tree, were stripped away. A single flap of their great, stone, wings would shatter the peace of a summer’s day like the peal of thunder.

If lightning and sunlight had been the weapons of the gods then rock and wind had been theirs.

These mountains had been like so many others come the sunlight. Once barren and lifeless beneath a sky of arch trees and mottled cloud; they had blossomed with life like never before. Grass, ferns, conifers… they had stretched from root to summit in a vivacious carpet of greens and browns. Now stripped bare.

The prince bit his lip. The peaceful beat of his heart fluttering as old malice came to him. Though but a gentle breeze compared to the gale that had blown through him at the time; the old pain, despair, and anger played on his mind like the lilting melody of an old tune.

The dragons were driven back. Their numbers sorely diminished and their roosts likewise decimated. Man and god had celebrated on the streets of their newly founded bastion. The prince and his godly father had been leagues away; battling through firestorms and plague fogs to make safe their people. Even there they had heard the maelstrom passing overhead and later, after the fighting had settled for a moment, they heard it land.

Of the few survivors, no accordance of events could be found. Some say the dragons arrived from below, others above, others babbled of there being no arrival, just revelation. The only detail that was shared between all was the arrival of their leader. A dragon of size and might to not be matched by even a legion of her lesser kin.

The dragons had no names of their own, even the duke of Anor Londo had to be given his signet by the lord of sunlight. This one, however, had been given one long ago by the people who cowered in the roots of the arch trees. Those who hoped that her storm would permit them to live another day.

Volias.

In the primitive language that had first whispered it in the darkness it simply meant a frightful death. Yet it had grown to represent her alone. To even the gods there was no greater fear than catching her eye; much less her ire along with it.

It had been here that Volias had fallen on the free people of the sun. Wreathed in her dark storm and attended by her court of undying children; the dragon queen had landed atop the mountains and with one beat of her wings; scourged them of life. Those few survivors of the storm beast had been the fortunate few to be sheltered within the depths of the fortress before that fateful moment.

In that one moment it felt like the entire war had flipped; a war of aggression was now a desperate race to defend the lands left untouched by Volias’ wrath. The desolate mountain where she now prowled became encircled by legions of undead, pygmy warriors, and silver knights. Even Izalith and her daughters were seen pacing the permitter of the defences; muttering incantations and curses in equal measure.

“Retake the keep,” his father’s voice rumbled in his ears even now just as the storm had that day. He had thought that it felt fitting that a god armed with lightning should sound like rolling thunder. Even under an ink black sky the god king glowed with the fire that sustained them all. He was, in all senses of the word, a god.

“Let there be fire,” the prince replied with steel in his voice. An oath as old as the covenant between lords of fire, death, and light themselves. His father had turned on his heel then; though not fast enough for his son to miss the smirk of pride that marred his face. That same pride swelled within the prince’s breast as his father strode to the front of a host armed in gold and plumed in crimson.

The pride fanned the flames of his soul. It had carried him up that mountain to the summit of the ruined fortress. Every dragon that came fell in a torrent of blinding light and shining silver. The rage in the hearts of his men refusing to brook their enemy even one more body to add to the piles of dead that littered the blasted desolation around them.

“My lord,” Ornstein, the prince’s personal captain, approached. The butt of his spear cracking the stone beneath him as an impromptu salute, “The men are in position.”

“Has my father engaged the beast,” the prince drew his blade from the sheath it had made out of the last dragon atop of the mountain.

“The fire witch’s signal has gone up,” his form was perfect; stood as straight as his spear in front of his commander. His eyes, golden as his armour, staring into the distance as Ornstein waited for his next command, “Gough’s fingers are itching to draw.”

“He can wait a few moments more,” With a single nod the dragonslayer turned on his heel and marched back along the grand promenade of the fortress; his lord following in his wake. They silently joined the giant and his regiment of hawk-eyes. Each already trained on the gargantuan beast resting below.

“Bless the fire that a monster so great needs so much rest,” the giant’s rich voice cut through the tempest assailing the mountain top.

“Indeed,” the dragonslayer let the tip of his spear scrape across the gravelly soil at their feet, “though this wind could stand to follow suite.”

“Let us remedy that,” the prince held his spear-sword high; the titanite blade shining even in this darkness. In response a hundred great bows grew tought and twice that voices began to whisper to the fire to sustain for them a miracle of lightning.

The wind blew fierce and in that was a strange silence. A moment of peace before the maelstrom awoke.

“Let there be fire.”

** ** **

The former prince was brought out of his reverie. The sounds of the melee growing closer with each moment. Every so often the clash of steel was split with the hissing cry of a snake man or the unmistakable peel of thunder accompanying holy lightning. The last of the prince’s serpentine retinue willingly marching towards their enemy. Their rusted weapons held high.

His hand raised from the warm shell of the egg atop the altar. So nearly ready to hatch; so dearly wanting to stir the winds with their first cry.

The fighting stopped and the prince picked up his blade. The gold shine now little more than a dull brass even in the waning sunlight.

He found his dragonslayer amidst mounds of scaled dragon worshippers. His armour marred with their acrid blood. Ornstein had abandoned his helm, a large crack sundering the snarling lion’s visage. The closer he looked the more damage the prince noticed on what once would have been immaculate golden plate. Even his dear cross spear was riddled with chips and damage.

“It has been a long journey,” the prince drew himself to his full height to tower over the knight as he once had, “has it not, old friend?”

“It has,” the knight didn’t budge, simply planting his spear at his side, “though it would have been far quicker if the lands were not festooned with the likes of the ilk that follow you,” the prince glanced at the slaughtered snake-kin around them.

“They serve a purpose.”

“Not our purpose,” his stare did not waver; burning into him like one of those ancient witch firestorms, “or are you so far gone you forget that with which we were laden?”

“I have not.”

“Then why do you shirk your duty? Why do you forsake the suffering of the weak for your own ends; there was a time you would have torn down the sky itself to avenge the death of a single soul let alone the thousands that suffer now.”

“I did,” the prince kept his voice at a measured low while flames billowed in his chest, “for a time I saw to their defence like I used to.”

“Then what conspired to change that!” the lion knight let his anger flow freely, “What damned cause was so important that you left everyone else to rot!”

“Him of course,” the prince grit his teeth, “it always comes back to him, in the end.”

“Damn him then,” the prince had to pause at the knight’s words, “damn his vision of the fire and damn his sunlight.”

“You speak blasphemy.”

“Then I blaspheme against a dead god,” the air caught in the prince’s throat.

“He…”

“Yes,” the knight’s shoulders slouched and the tip of his spear fell to the ground. Despite the news no pain mingled with the fire in his breast… just resignation. Disappointment, “So, what binds you to this place still?”

“Atonement,” the word fell from his lip as easily as a prayer, “I must see it through.”

“The dragons are gone,” the prince shook his head, “Your lordly father is gone. Yet the people we fought for remain. Diminished, surely, yet still they cry out for the defence of their god of war.”

“They don’t even know my name… few barely remember that ever existed,” venomous bile filled his palate, “my lordly father saw to that when I left.”

���They can again,” Ornstein stepped closer, “they will again.”

“Maybe… but my duty lies here… for now,” The knight growled like his armour’s namesake.

“One egg will not bring rise to the dragons of old,” he slammed the butt of his spear into the already cracked stone, “leave it here and come with me. Leave this blasted heap of rock behind you… please.”

“I…” the prince watched as tears streamed down his captain’s face. Tears of rage, pain, despair… and a thousand more emotions too intimate to give name to, “I wish I could, dear friend.”

“The last time…” the god knight cleared his throat and stilled his anguish, “the last time we stood here we battled the dragon queen. An impossible task that we accomplished.”

“I remember,” the tip of his spear no longer relaxed against the paving stones; now hovering at the ready a few inches higher, “my father and his witch had wounded it sorely yet the final blow fell to us.”

“You bade the others retreat while we stood resolute…” the knight paced back and forth between the mounds of the dead, “In truth I remember little of the fight itself; the beast knocked me senseless while you fought on alone. Yet, when I came back to myself, you were carrying me down those steps, alive,” he gestured behind him.

“What is your point Ornstein,” he paused for a moment and tightened the grip on his spear.

“It is my turn to save you…” the spear tip rose threateningly, “so this time I will slay the dragon and guide you out of here,” there was a single tremulous moment between the two. Then the knight advanced.

“No,” the prince swung his spear-sword to the side, blocking the way. The knight did not respond and simply flicked the tip of his spear at the blade; momentarily knocking it aside. Long enough for him to slip by.

The prince reacted with the speed of a veteran of a thousand battles; tackling the dragonslayer into the nearest weathered statue; cracking it in half with their weight. Both weapons fell to the ground as they grappled. The knight may have been of slighter build than his commander yet his armoured fist still drew blood as it drove into his darkened cheek.

The prince staggered from the blow and the knight took off. Snatching up his cross spear as he went. A panic deeply unfamiliar to the prince set in as he saw his friend gaining distance on him. With little thought he ripped up a chunk of fallen statue and hurled it with all his might. The chunk sailed, almost serenely, through the air and shattered against the dull golden armour of the knight.

As the knight reeled from the blow; the prince closed the gap with his own weapon held tightly in his hands once more. Ornstein had barely enough time to raise his weapon in defence as the prince slashed at him wildly. The blow throwing him back into the wall.

He struck back, the tip of his spear singing through the air past the ear of his former commander. He struck again and the block raised by the prince sliced cleanly through one of the crossguards. The prince had just enough time to wrench his shoulder back to avoid the deadly point. Even so it sliced cleanly through the leathers of his grimy armour and into his shoulder.

There was a beat of pure malice between the two of them before the former god of war let out a yell to rival even Volias’ roar and buried his fist in Ornstein’s chest. The metal crumpling around the blow. Without a thought he drove the tip of his spear-sword into the crater he left, piercing the heart of his friend.

The now god-slaying weapon withdrew from its victim with a wet sucking sound. Crimson hewed blood spilling over tarnished gold armour. The dragon slayer collapsed against the impacted wall; even with all his godly might death was taking him quickly.

The prince looked down at what he’d done. A numbness setting in as he watched the life blood of his last friend soak into the cracks and chasms in the stone around them. Ornstein met his eye, one last time, yet there was no malice. There was no fear or surprise… just resignation and disappointment. His spear clattered to the ground from rapidly numbing fingers; while he broke out in an icy cold sweat.

No words passed between the two.

What words would do?

The prince simply kept his vigil. Silently mourning his friend as he quickly slipped from life into the soft embrace of death. As the last breath rattled from his dry throat the prince allowed to let his head fall. Yet no tears fell; just that damned empty numbness pervading his very being.

He lifted the body of his former friend in his arms; trying to not think about how light he felt or how the absence of breath made his skin crawl.

The god laid the body by the altar. The egg on top still glowing with warmth in the howling winds. He stood a moment staring at the fragile shell. For a moment he considered crushing it with his fist; the price its defence was accruing was beginning to verge on being too much. His fist relaxed as he rested his palm on the smooth surface; a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding finally escaped his lips.

He bowed his head as he once again sunk into silent contemplation.

The winds relentlessly whipping at his bared face. @onidzuka

The mun's comment: ORNSTEIN?! How did you manage to sneak your way into the chain, you weren't even in my original fic?! People really see NK and think "Hm, Ornstein has to be there." I love it. I also love how the wholesome tone of my original fic shifted into a lot of extreme angst. True flavour of Dark Souls. I am proud of you, guys. Also, that we managed to get TEN people together! That is the longest chain so far and I love to see so much art and fic for our favourite Sunfirstborn. I hope you guys enjoy the chain too. Please reblog it to spread it around, so that people can check out the author's and artists ^^

[boneheadduluc]

I'm in need of some Andrea smut every time I read something about him there is no sex because this was in the 30's and it would be inappropriate to do it before marriage. So...let's get inappropriate (?

no mommy kink please, i can't cope with that

Actually this was going to happen v/ soon in my fic of Andrea BUT I'll write a quick drabble/one shot for you bc same! we need that in our lives :) I'll be doing gender neutral reader for dis ;) Warnings!! 18+ , loss of virginity, perhaps slight edging? oral on reader (female presenting) and NO mommy kink per request :)

Rules were rules. Marry a nice man, then lose your virginity. You had been following those rules. Even now, you lived alone in a small cottage on a hill. And you still haven't lost it. You never felt inclined too really...and you were fine with that. It's just everyone in the village usually was a kid or a senior. No one was around your age, so you preferred a secluded kind of life. 

 Even if that meant following rules you didn't want to follow. You hated that you didn't have a choice. You hated how your parent's voice replayed in your head over and over. Telling you “wait! get married first!” You were sick of it, you were desperate sure, not desperate enough to lose it to whoever you met, but then...

 a new boy showed up, you learned his story since you were a bit close with Janet and Ursula, the old sisters who were housing the young man. So you met him, and god... he was just your type.

Plus they invited you over so he could play for you? meaning the violin. At first, you felt a little out of place... until he started playing. Needless to say, he was more than talented than you expected. You’d never heard anything like it, afterward, he wanted to talk to you surprisingly. 

“What is you name?” he tried his best to speak, you were told his English wasn't the best so you found it more endearing than anything and applauded his effort since he’d only been here for a few weeks. So you looked to him, sitting beside you with wide eyes and rosy cheeks. His hair was a bit shaggy as he shook the hair out of his eyes.

“Oh, my name is (y/n).” You gave a warm smile, shifting in your seat to face him more. “And you are Andrea, yes?” and he nodded before he repeated your name warmly, and honestly you loved the way it sounded in his mouth.

------------------

Weeks passed, you visiting, Andrea playing for you, afterward, you would talk to Andrea, his English noticeably getting better. And sometimes he would even be a bit of a flirt. So one day you just asked the sisters if they would allow you to take him into town. You did your best to sound as friendly as possible and it seemingly worked.

You showed him a few of your favorite places, took him dancing to the pub. Though he wasn't a very good dancer, you had to kind of show him. Guiding his hands to land on your hips and pull you close, telling him to watch your feet as he got red because honestly he couldn't help but stare at your face. 

Then finally he asked to see your home. And you couldn't help be nervous, he had been making eyes at you all day, smirking like a cat with cunning eyes. Like he had so much more in that head of his, thoughts that he wasn't sharing. Plus he was already holding hands with you, keeping you close to him as he kept calling you ‘Liebling.’ And of course you didn't refuse him, not at all. So by the time, you were halfway up the path on the mountain and he slowly stopped walking, staring at you with a sweet smile. 

“Something the matter Andrea?” you questioned- confused as to why he had stopped. He moved slowly, stepping closer to you, leaning in, quickly pressing a kiss to your cheek. Then backing away, checking your eyes for permission. You nodded and Andrea knitted his brows together, exhaling through his nose as he slowly moved to press a kiss to your other cheek. Gently. Wonderfully. Then your forehead. The tip of your nose, then finally his mouth hovered over your own. Breath shaking with feverish anticipation.

You ached to lean in and finish what he started, but you wanted to see if Andrea would do it himself, and after about 5 nervous seconds you felt him roughly slot his lips against your own.

You were lost, blindly lost to pleasure and yearning. You barely realized the way you pulled him up the hill, mouths slotted together as you rushed backward, your back soon up against your door, your hands at his waistband, he moaned against your mouth.

And soon enough you were turned around and inside and he was walking backward as you led him to your bed. Pushing against his chest as he sat and you climbed his lap. Kissing him so harshly you felt your teeth clink against his own, embarrassed you pulled back, your hand coming to your lips. 

“I apologize, Andrea-” You were breathless, with shy eyes and flushed cheeks. 

He looked the same, though less embarrassed. More lustful than anything. 

“No, no-” He started softly. “You are wonderful.” He spoke slowly, catching your eyes as he brushed your hair out of your face with his thumbs. Putting a strand of hair behind your ear lovingly. 

“But...I need-” He started up again, and he groaned out, almost a whimper really, like he was in pain and that's when you felt something poke against your inner thigh, and then you understood. You ground forward and watched as his mouth fell open. Andreas eyebrows furrowing, his face growing red, a moan caught in his throat.

“Oh, you wonderful creature.” You mused. Almost amazed at the power you held over him. So you did it again and again until he was begging for you to let him cum. 

“Please...Please (y/n)-” He buried his face into your neck, his large hands on your waist, fingers digging in deeply, his shoulders going tense at your dry humping. 

A part of you was nervous honestly. You didn't know if Andrea was also a virgin, but judging by his closeness already ...you were gonna bet on the fact he was, but then again you didn't know what you were doing anyway. 

So instead, you simply stopped. And he stopped breathing. He was frozen actually, and you wondered why, a part of you wanted to laugh, he was curled up into you, unmoving, holding you. 

“Andrea?” you questioned and finally he moved, looking up at you, 

“I do something wrong?” he slowly drawled out, voice tiny and nervous and you shook your head. “No, of course not I just...have you ever done this before?” It was your turn to be tiny and nervous now, especially self-conscious. 

He gulped, Andrea understood. And he slowly shook his head ‘no’

“I'm sorry,” he whispered and it almost broke your heart. 

“Oh my love, no! You have nothing to be sorry for. I have never...done this... either. So it's okay Andrea. And...and honestly, we don't have to do anything if you don't want to.” You cupped his face, giving him a warm smile and he returned one. Slowly pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“I want you.” He whispered after breaking the kiss barely. 

And that was all you needed to push him back on the bed so he was laying down. You climbed atop him, undoing his pants slowly. He raised himself on his elbows, watching you, breathing heavy, eyes flickering back and forth between you and your hands. 

And suddenly he took your hand, putting it away from him. Softly and gently and lovingly.  “first you. Let me...help.” He muttered, looking to you for permission and so you switched roles and he was helping you undress from your light dress. 

And you were naked and self-conscious and nervous in front of him. 

But he was smiling, eyes running over your perfect form. You were perfect to him, everything about you, even the things you considered a flaw, he would reach out, brushing his fingertips lightly over them. He muttered how you were beautiful before reaching with both hands to your thighs. Parting them slowly, gently as all his movements were. 

He slowly moved off the bed, to his knees as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, your legs over his shoulder, his eyes on yours, looking up to you the entire time. Your hands gripped the blankets harshly and nervously. But you nodded at him and he leaned forward, delving his tongue over your entrance. And you moaned, the feeling making you throw your head back. 

And he did it again, though opening his mouth even wider, taking you into his mouth, his tongue lapping up your wetness. Moving up to run over your clit. And you shivered, sensitive all over. 

He realized that was the spot, so he did it once more and got the same reaction, actually an even bigger one. Your back was beginning to arch. Toes curling. 

And he kept eating you out- tongue sometimes delving into you, into your warmth and he would moan against your wetness and heat. Eyelashes fluttering and closing as you would spread your legs further, pushing your cunt against his mouth- thighs shaking and quivering as you felt a knot of heat in your lower stomach slowly coming closer and growing bigger. And finally you were gripping his hair, pulling as he whimpered against you. 

“Oh Andrea- Andrea Im so- Im going to-” You could barely get a full comprehensible sentence out before your thighs were convulsing around his head and your back arching and a loud moan was drawn out from deep within you moaning- screaming his name as a intense orgasm slapped you right across the face, and god- you were exhausted in all honesty. You even fell back on the bed, his tongue still on you though as if he couldn't get enough, nose sometimes even nudging up against your clit as he hungrily and greedily tasted everything in you. 

And as much as it was amazing soon you were becoming over sensitive and with each lick and moan of his against your pussy you were being shocked, body twitching and you pulled back, breathless, a mess for a lack of a better term. 

And you began to chuckle as well as he rose up now, smirking at you, his lips and chin, all slick with your wetness and his own spit. And you grinned right back at him, and pulled him down to meet your mouth as you kissed him, without a care in the world. It was almost satisfying to taste yourself on Andreas tongue. 

But finally you broke the kiss, cupping his face as you knew what came next. “Your turn my love.” You muttered. Sitting up now as you went for his belt, undoing it slowly, hoping he wouldn't stop you again. Though it was worth it last time. But he allowed you to- Andrea even began unbuttoning his shirt. Throwing it to the floor along with your dress, as you followed up with taking off his belt and pulling the pants away- his cock finally free and hard. Fully upright, beads of pre-cum forming at his reddened tip. He was so desperate, it was clear in his expression. Mouth slightly agape as he watched you. 

You thought for a moment, wondering on what you should do now. On what position and honestly how all of this was gonna go. A part of you was scared as you shuffled back on the bed, and patted the space beside you, signaling him to come be by you, but first he began shuffling out of his shoes, then along with his pants until he was fully naked. The look on his face signaling he didn't want you to feel self conscious with him being half clothed, so he decided he too would be fully undressed for this.  He moved beside you now, huffing out a short breath, nervous. It was clear so you pulled him close, kissing his jawline softly.  “Lets go slow, yes?” You mumbled to him softly. He looked up at you, shoulders tense as he nodded. “Yes mien Liebling.” he whispered back, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he furrowed his brows again for you were laying back now, resting your head on the pillow as you slightly spread your legs for him to fit in between. So he moved to lean over you, head of his cock teasing against your lower belly softly, it made him whimper as you couldn't help but giggle as you looked up to him, he looked beautiful this way.  “Should I- uhm..” he stuttered, cheeks burning red as he lowered himself slightly, trying to align himself with your entrance.  “Yes Andrea- go ahead.” You bit at your lower lip, eyes gazing as he closed his eyes, throbbing tip budding at your opening, he pushed his hips forward, his tip sliding in before it slipped upwards, you really were that tight- though you felt bad, for if you were more relaxed it would've gone in easier. “I apologize-” you mutter, exhaling shakily but he shakes his head.  “No- not your fault.” Andrea shares a calming smile, his eyes shining as he looks deeply into your eyes.  “I try again.” he reassured and positioned his cock to your entrance once more, this time sliding it in your slickness and heat easily. You held your breath, feeling him stretch you wide, Andrea on the other hand groaned out, whimpered as his head fell into the crook of your neck. You couldn't imagine how sensitive he must be at the moment.  He kept sliding in until he couldn't anymore, and he filled you to the brim, you felt so full and couldn't help but moan softly, your hands going to the back of his nape, playing with his hair, twirling it around your fingers, admiring the feeling of his warm body atop of yours, holding you. he stayed still, immediately understanding you would need some time to adjust. So you two stayed still, breathing and trying to figure this all out, he lifted his head, and you just stared at him until the two of you broke into small laughter. Warm chuckles filling the air around you, and you caught his lips softly, he laughed into your mouth even- so shy and nervous, Andrea couldn't help it. But after a minute of kissing and nervously giggling you finally felt ready. You broke the warm kiss. And caught his eyes. “Andrea I think I'm ready...move...please?” You muttered shyly- you didn't want to sound demanding but were soon relived when he just smiled at you. Giving you a look as to say “of course.”  And he pulled out halfway, inhaling deeply as he then slid back in setting up a pace, not to fast not to slow, just right honestly. And that's when you felt the pleasure slowly beginning to take over the slight discomfort. When he soon began pumping into you like a animal in heat. You moaned his name over and over, arching your back as you watched his face turn desperate. He would mutter in polish and German. whispering into your ear and you couldn't help but scratch at his back. He changed his angle slightly, cock hitting your g-spot. 

“Oh! Oh Andrea you- oh fuck.” You cursed, closing your eyes. “Yes harder please.” you moaned out, feverishly. Everything felt so hot, you were even sweating across your forehead slightly.  And he did as you commanded, pushing harder, fucking into you, moaning brokenly each time he pushed in. The squeeze of your pussy around him making him lightheaded even. He dropped his head to your chest eventually. Tongue finding its way to your nipple. Opening wide and sucking on your breast. And you felt so sensitive, everything overwhelming you but in the best way possible. 

“Oh yes, yes-” you chanted, breathless and suddenly wrapped your thighs around him, flipping the two of you over so you were on top, he gasped- eyes wide as he looked to you, his face becoming flushed once more- the sight of him was enough to push you to the edge as you began to bounce on his cock, suddenly reaching you climax, steadying yourself by putting your hands to Andreas chest- your back arching as you clenched around his cock, falling forward now- pushing your lips together. 

He kept thrusting into you though- desperate to cum inside, “Please- please.” He begged for release, closing his eyes as you groaned softly, your insides sensitive as you sat back up, and it only took 2 bounces on his cock for Andrea to be moaning out your name- as he gripped your thighs and soon you felt his warm seed fill you up, he whimpered and fucked into you harshly now- sitting up and pulling you close, fitting his mouth over your tit to muffle the shameful sounds spilling out of him. 

As he fucked through his climax he soon began to slow down, exhausted as you moaned- feeling him suck your nipples softly now, closing his eyes as his breathing calmed. 

You ran your fingers through his hair softly. Kissing the top of his head- satisfied now and he now popped off your tit, lips a bright color that matched his cheeks. He smiled at you and you grinned back, pressing a kiss to his nose. You raised yourself off of him, and you felt his warm seed inside of you, you adored the feeling as you rolled off and laid down- he lowered himself to be by you. 

“You were amazing Andrea- absolutely wonderful.” You sighed softly as his hand reached your stomach, drawing invisible lines with his fingers over the soft skin. Andrea shyly smiled now. “Danke.” he whispered in German, you knew what it meant and chuckled softly. 

“Im sleepy.” you whispered, and it was true- your eyes were heavy and Andrea nodded. “Sleep.” he kissed your cheek warmly. And so you did, you fell asleep to him cuddled beside you, humming a tune that was familiar to you. 

[angelguk]

oc is back on her bullshit!!! miss out and about im gonna forget about you!! im so sorry for this part actually. descriptions of oc sleeping with someone who is not jaykay (warning!! infidelity but not really). suppressed feelings on jks side. chayoung is still Suspicious. everyone is now mildly shitty actually. roughly 2k. listen to not gonna cry by emma steikbakken and stranger by tove lo.

titled — fuel to the fire

It's been three days since you last spoke to Jeongguk (and four weeks since your break-up). Not about your relationship or the horrendous state your sudden break-up left you in, or about the fact that Jeongguk had moved on before your heart had even registered the cracks he'd left in his wake. No, not that – none of the actual life changing important stuff, only him briefly mentioning that you needed to hand in your event proposal for the student committee before the deadline approached. It was unbelievably strange to watch the person you'd basically surgically attached to your being behave like a complete stranger. It didn't help that he didn't seemed unfazed approaching you, while you on the other hand actively avoided him and all the usual corners of campus where he liked to lurk (which sucked because those corners were some of your favourites places too). But there he was, ambling to you with an ease that made your gut violently twist, acrid bile slithering up your throat.

He'd spoken so freely, the sound of your name on his tongue a brand on your skin. You'd frozen, heart a wild animal locked in your chest, before you could summon the mettle to look him in the face.

The first thing you noted was that his hair was no longer long. Dark locks cropped short around his ears now and casually gelled back, idle strands playfully framing his face. His features are what you settled on next, eager eyes remapping the sharp slope of his nose, easily identifying the sneaky dimple on his cheek begging to burst free and then shifting down to the dark mark right below his soft pink lips.

Your first instinct was to pull him into your arms but they were frozen, glued to the table beneath you before that blinding rage rose it's head, sparking through your veins the longer you looked at him.

He didn't even seem to realise it, rattling off the list of things you needed to email him for the spring scavenger hunt or else the event could be cancelled (which sucked because that was an idea you had created with Jeongguk and now you were stuck carrying the bulk of the event alone).

Your replies had been curt, blunt as they left your lips before you'd pointedly turned away. Maybe if you had looked a little longer you would detected the lingering gaze he granted your features, how he shuffled on his feet, unsure and hesitant, words on his tongue longing to be released. Eventually he had swallowed him down, mumbled a quick goodbye and wandered off, the hands shoved in the pockets of his baggy jeans aching to hold yours again.

You, however, didn't miss the muffled giggles of girls he passed on his way out, a sick icky feeling clogging your throat. You didn't mind the fan girls when you were dating because you knew Jeongguk was yours and yours alone. But now? When he'd moved on not even a weak after your break-up you didn't know how to feel. Jealous, maybe. Furious, absolutely. For a second, you considered throwing your mini stapler at their huddled heads, weighing the odds of possibly going to jail for assault. But there was no reason to truly justify that reaction, not when Jeongguk was single and apparently available for everyone. But did that feeling still brew inside of you? Turning into something black and vile and vengeful? Perhaps.

And maybe that's why you're here now, the body of some boy pressing against yours, your bare back prickling as the night wind grazes against it. The dress you'd plucked from your closet was criminal, clinging to the dips and rounds of your body perfectly, a silky emerald backless piece that shimmered beneath the soft lights of the porch you'd abruptly accoupled. His name might be Lucas – you may have been able to accurately remember that three drinks ago but you're beyond that now. And it didn’t really matter when all you wanted was for him to fuck you. He's also big and huge, massive shoulders caving you in, and his hands is snaking it's way up your thighs, ginger kisses peppered along the span of your neck.

Which is not what you wanted. Not in a one-night stand at least. You don't want soft and gentle, you want something wild – feral even. Something harsh enough to wipe the memory of Jeongguk's hands on your skin, something bright and fierce and new. Something to make you feel alive again.

Lucas gets the hint soon enough, spurred on by the bold movement of your hand guiding his closer, right between your thighs were you wanted him. Deft harsh fingers on your clit followed, pressing against the damp fabric with no remorse. You couldn't help the whimper that floats from your lips, the tension stringing through your limbs finally alleviated.

"Cute," he murmurs, seemly pleased judging from the broad smile that tugs at his lips. You make a noise of agreement in return, drawing in him for a kiss as the pad of this thumb toys with you. There's the sillage of whiskey on his tongue, something that nearly makes you freeze because you're used to tasting that on Jeongguk. But you beat down that apprehension, a muffled moan breaking past your lips when Luca's tongue mets yours.

"My place?" He suggests, lips glimmering from your lip gloss. You smile, a familiar giddiness bubbling in your chest when he shifts a little, hard bulge bumping into the base of your stomach. You give in a little bit more easily than you normally would have, clinging onto his hand as he guides you out of the party towards the neighboring building. Chayoung and Sieun are going to kill you later for this but you simply can't force yourself to care. 

"You're in that frat?" You finally murmur out when he keys himself into the building. Lucas hums, glowing under the moonlight when he smiles at you.

"Mhm, Sigma Chi for life, babe."

Babe. A complete one-eighty from the bunny you'd grown accustomed to.

It hits a little harder when he gets you into his room, the mess unlike anything you'd ever seen at Jeongguk's (he's very anal but his room and how clean it should be, specific down even to the various scents he kept around to ensure the air he breathed was perfect). Lucas was the average frat boy, messy but neat enough that you find yourself naked on his bed a couple moments later, his tongue deep inside of you. Your brain couldn't help but recall the last time a head had settled between your thighs, Jeongguk eager to lick out the pool of cum he'd left there. But this wasn't him and as of five seconds ago you decided you’re no longer allowed to think about him.

Lucas makes it easy, tongue skilled and swift around your clit, a fervour in his movements that leaves you dripping down his chin. Jeongguk evaporates from your mind entirely when Lucas descends on you, his mouth glistening and his tongue tasting of you. His kisses are hungry now, forceful, just what you need. Your palms stray down his wide back, a strange tingle erupting in your gut when your nails dig and he groans right down your throat.

"You're so big," the comment is a mumbled slur, lost in Lucas's mouth. For a second, you think he misunderstands, his hard cock twitching against your thigh. You're actually talking about his shoulders; they're broad, muscles rippling every time he shifts to press you harder into the mattress. You like the weight of him on you, it makes forgetting easier.

But Lucas knows what you're saying, discerning your wandering fingers and clouded eyes well.

"I know," he returns with lopsided smile. "Perks of swimming."

Oh, of course he was an athlete. Maybe you had a type after all.

Before Jeongguk has a moment to resurface Lucas has you in his arms, easily twisting you around so that your face is buried in his sheets. It short-circuits you, brain sparking with how large and huge and strong he feels. The following sudden press of his lips against your ass doesn’t help, your heart thumping loud in your head as your shuffle onto your elbows.

"Good?" Lucas asks, rising to fetch a condom from his drawer.

"Mhm," you return, thighs trembling when he returns. He easily lines himself up with you, the head of his cock pressed into you coaxing a low groan from your throat. The first thrust hurts, probably because you're body isn't as on board with this as you thought. But that changes quick when Lucas's hand slides underneath you, swiftly settling on your clit until you're leaking around his length, skin tight with tension and sweat beading along the length of your back. The stretch feels strange – he's larger than Jeongguk, wider. At first it's too uncomfortable to feel good. Your senses narrow on the sound of your meeting instead, loud and lewd, your pussy squelching with every drag of his cock inside of you. The ripple of your ass helps you relax too, a pleasant almost dizzy feel spreading through your body when Lucas draws you closer, shoving himself deep inside, the whine floating from his lips painting your skin warm. He fucks you hard enough to leave marks, large fingers digger into your hips with every resounding collide of your bodies. You shiver when he finishes, a grimness appearing on your skin. It's vanished by Lucas tugging you close, his mouth light on your lip as he kisses you, cock slowly slipping out.

It feels better the second round. He's perceptive, quickly learning how you like your clit touched, or that you like when his teeth sink into your skin rather hard. You actually cum this time, spread open over his massive strong thighs, his length splitting you open, the stretched welcomed.

You forgot about Jeongguk and your sore heart for a total of two wonderous hours, before your phone starts blaring from your discarded mini-bag on the floor. Lucas is the one that gets it for you.

"Hi?"

"Y/N! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" Chayoung's tone is aggrieved, wavering through the sound of some song blasting in the background.

"Oh. I left." You hope she gets it, doesn't press any further. But what was Chayoung if not a button pusher?

"WHERE? YOU WENT HOME? WHEN?"

"No, I'm not home. And awhile ago." Lucas is pointedly not listening, pattering through the adjacent bathroom of his room. The pressure ebbs when he turns the tap on loud.

"WHAT?"

"I said I'm not home! And please stop yelling!"

There's a loaded pause. You can feel Chayoung thinking through the line. "Okay... Who are you with?"

"Fine, yes I'll meet you there," you say instead, completely ignoring her question. Lucas is out of the bathroom now, massive and still naked as his knee sinks into the mattress. He crawls to you as you scramble to get out, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear. "Yeah, yeah I know I'm sorry. I'll come get you."

"What the hell are you talking about Y/N? Who are you with?" Chayoung's words are bitter now, stinging as they hit your ear.

"Gimme five seconds, I'll be right there," you return, swiftly cutting the call. Chayoung is going to kill you the second you see her but you'd rather attempt to live through that than Lucas overhearing you gossip about him on the phone with your friend. The man in question is watching you with a chary gaze as you hurriedly tug your dress over your head. "Sorry," you supply, pulling the hem down hard over your butt. "My friend needs me."

He nods slow, strawberry blond locks swaying. He's actually very hot, an observation that has you stilling for a second.

"Cool. See you around, yeah?" His eyes are round and big, bright even – almost like Jeongguk's. That breaks the spell.

"Yeah, see you around." And then you take the chance to flee, bag swung over your shoulder. Except Lucas halts you with a low cough, raising his hand, something bunched up in it.

"You forget this, though." It's your underwear, red and lacy. Your cheeks match the colour of fabric, flushed hot as you pluck it out of his wide palm. Lucas watches you slip them on with a smug smile, one that you should hate but there's a humour in it that blooms through you. He lets you part with a fond squeeze of ass when he gets up to open the door, still grinning.

"See you, Y/N," he says, leaning against the doorframe. He's very tall too, how did you miss that?

"Yeah," you squeak back, eyes shifting from his face with speed. "See you."

He's not Jeongguk, and that's good. He also makes it easy for you to forget about Jeongguk, another plus. And you can't help but wonder as you scurry back to the party, that it might be nice to see him again.

—

That sentiment gets jumbled when Chayoung avidly spills to you later that she'd stumbled into Jeongguk with his hands tangled with another girls, leading her right out of the party as Lucas had lead you. It stings, of course it does, but not as much as the first one. Not when Lucas is in your DMs, his messages sweet albeit corny, and you can still recall the taste of you on his tongue. 

But despite everything, even with Jeongguk a new stranger and Lucas's body warming yours, you haven’t truly let go. You can feel it in how you cling to the clothes Jeongguk had left in your closet. He hadn't requested to come pick them up yet, a fact that keeps a wedge in the door you're not sure you can close alone. Your heart still spikes when you see him on campus, and there's a home game coming around the corner that you're longing to go to. Because you still want to see him. Still want to be by his side Sometimes it felt nice to want to forget but you couldn't – not yet at least, not until you know whether he wants to forget about you too.

[zeroweeenies]

megumi x reader having sex in the bathtub? please ~~

“Bath Time”

Desc: you have a much needed shower with megumi.

Character(s): Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6K

WARNINGS: shower sex, spitting, degradation, slight somno, sir kink, slapping, aged up megumi, 18+ minors dni

You shoved your key in the door, twisting the lock and entering your shared apartment with your boyfriend. You toed your way out of your shoes, letting out a fatigued sigh as you removed your jacket from your body and carelessly throwing it on the couch that was positioned in the middle of the living room.

You were dog tired; life as a jujutsu sorcerer was demanding, having to work late nights and sometimes not being able to come home because of the countless lives you had sworn to protect really put a damper on your relationship.

Megumi’s work was the same as yours, although he too was a shaman your schedules often ended up not coinciding with one another, him getting home earlier than you and already asleep in bed by the time you got there.

Your busy schedules also drove a truck through your sex life since you two hadn’t fucked in almost two weeks. Whenever you came home Megumi was always asleep and you never dared to wake him because your jobs required that you needed the utmost rest, so waking him up for something as trivial as sex seemed silly.

But something in you was different tonight. A mission dealing with a special grade curse left you super taxed, and ultimately left you with soreness in the side of your neck.

And with all of the pent up sexual frustration building in you from the passing weeks, you were extra needy for Megumi. You just wanted to spend some time with your boyfriend, for him to take all your worries away by making it all better with his cock.

Walking down the corridor of your apartment and to the right, you stepped into your bedroom to see Megumi resting peacefully. The luminescence of the moon reflecting off his toned chest, the blanket pulled down over his body enough to where you could see his sweatpants draping over his hips.

The sight made you whine, only proving how much you needed him as you sauntered over to where Megumi lays, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest while he snores lightly.

‘He must be tired too’ you think, ‘this will be good for both of us.’

You crawl up the expanse of the bed on all fours like a panther closing in on its prey, your body directly above his. You lean down to press a kiss to his plump lips, sucking the bottom one into your mouth while running your hand down his torso, moaning into his mouth when you felt the very prominent bulge through his pants.

He was so fucking hard, you could almost feel it throbbing under your touch. You palmed him even more, causing him to stir in his sleep. You suck hickies into his naked chest, practically jerking him through the material separating you two.

“Wake up, baby” you coo into his jaw, placing kisses there too. Megumi groans, finally stirring awake.

“_____, what are you doing?” he questions you, his words coming out groggily as he begins to realize what you’re doing. Your hand slips under the layer of clothing, now touching his aching cock through his boxers.

“Shhh, let this happen” you giggle against his neck, resulting in Megumi shoving you off him and making you fall back on your knees.

“Go to bed, ____. I have to be up in a few hours and you need to rest.” he replied coldly, turning onto his side to face away from you.

What the fuck? You couldn’t help but wonder why he was acting like this. You were right there, throwing yourself at him and he won’t even look at you. Of course he doesn’t want to do it, why did you think tonight would be any different? You scoff, pulling yourself away from him.

“Tch, whatever. You probably can’t even get it up anyway.” you mock as you get off the bed, making your way into your shared bathroom. You peeled off your clothes and threw them into the hamper before turning on the water and making sure the temperature was just right before stepping in and sliding the shower door closed.

You lathered your cloth, getting it nice and soapy before scrubbing your body and most intimate areas and rinsing off after you were all clean.

You couldn’t get rid of the aching feeling pooling in your cunt, still irritated with the way your boyfriend was acting. You understand that he was stressed, but you were too. You would’ve at least expected him to return your affections, especially since he was the one who always initiated sex first. But there you were, practically having to beg your own boyfriend to fuck you.

You might as well get this over quick. Sitting down on the large bench that was placed in the shower, you laid back as you spread your legs wide. One hand tugged at your nipple while the other instinctually went to your clit, rubbing gently in circular motions.

Your lips parted as you tugged on the bud even harder, your fingers trailing down your slit to gather your arousal on them. You pushed your fingers inside your leaking cunt, immediately trying to imitate the way Megumi did it.

Your fingers didn’t feel the same. Megumi’s were longer, thicker. Always fucking that little spot inside you that made you weak and squirt all over him. You choked on a sob, almost crying from not being able to reach as deep as he could, almost giving up before you felt yourself getting close as your oncoming orgasm neared.

Broken fragments of his name left your mouth. “‘Gumi, Megumi,” you cried out, fingers pumping in and out of yourself even faster. You didn’t even realize how loud you were being until you heard Megumi’s voice behind you.

“Can’t get it up, huh?” You were so diverted by your sobs and moans you hadn’t even realized Megumi was standing right in front of you, an animalistic look in his eyes.

You shot up immediately and closed your legs shamefully, embarrassed that you just got caught touching yourself.

“Get out! You’re such a pervert!” you shot up, pounding your fists on his chest as an attempt to push him out of the shower.

Your next sentence was cut off by Megumi grabbing you up by your neck and aggressively pushing you up against the shower wall with his knee against your cunt, forcing a whimper from you.

“I’m the pervert? Look at you, touching yourself like a slut trying to get off.” His degrading words only made your eyelashes flutter and your pussy clench around nothing as his fingers squeezed more tightly around your throat.

“Tell me, did you think of me when you touched yourself? Did you think of me fucking this pretty little pussy?” his joint causing even more friction against your naked cunt, making you force a whine to the back of your throat.

“Fuck y—” you choke out before you earn a smack to the side of your face, making you even wetter somehow. Being hit during sex was so wrong, but it felt so right, especially if it was Megumi doing it to you.

“You’re gonna learn when to keep your whore mouth shut” he spat, your lips squished in a perfect eight from how hard he was squeezing your face.

“Get on your fucking knees”

he orders you with you reluctantly dropping to your knees in front of him, your actions followed by a bashful

“Yes sir”

Megumi doesn’t hesitate instantly tugging his sweatpants and boxers to his ankles and forcing his cock into your mouth. The unexpected intrusion nearly knocks you backwards, his pelvis flush with your mouth from stuffing it so full.

You gag when you feel his tip graze the back of your throat and hit your uvula, earning a low groan from him feeling your throat constrict around his length.

“You know how to shut up when your mouth is full of cock, don’t you?”

he fucks your mouth with deep thrusts, not allowing you to take a breath. Your breathing is limited and you feel like you’re going to pass out from the way Megumi’s using your throat, but the way your slick is dripping down your thighs and onto the shower floor only confirms that you like being treated like a fuck doll, a toy whose only purpose is to please.

“Don’t you?” he pulls you off his cock to take in your fucked out appearance, drool running from the sides of your mouth and tears flowing down your face as you give him a nod, the feeling of him seeing you like this is all too humiliating.

Megumi revels in it. He loves making you so embarrassed to the point where you beg for him to fuck you and let him do anything he pleases to you because he wants to make you a desperate slut for him.

“Ah ah, use your words baby” he speaks teasingly, caressing your jaw and stroking your puffy lips.

“Yes sir” you whimper out.

He chuckles, pleased with your answer before forcing your jaw down with his thumb to spit in your mouth, spreading it around on your tongue with two of his thick digits, a thin string connecting his saliva and yours when he pulls them out.

“You know what to do,” he insinuates, prompting you to swallow the warm liquid down your throat.

“Thank you sir” you look up at him through teary lashes, your eyes bloodshot red from being facefucked. He hums at your submissiveness, placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“You’re all fucked out and I haven’t even fucked you yet. Pathetic bitch.” his words cause you to mewl, leaving you to rut your naked cunt against nothing.

“All fours” he instructs to the bench behind you, making you scramble to your feet and position yourself the exact way Megumi told you.

You press your chest to the bench as much as you can, pushing you pussy out in hopes for Megumi to do something to relieve the aching feeling inside you.

Megumi drops to his knees behind you, his hands wandering up the backs of your thighs, spreading your ass before giving it a hard slap. He spreads your puffy pussy so he can see inside, your wetness glistening and running down your slit. Megumi’s cock grows harder at the sight.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me so far. I think you deserve a reward, hm?” he utters before delving between your slick lips, tongue swirling up and down your slit before teasing your sensitive spot. He suckles your clit into his mouth, his actions almost mimicking a vacuum.

You gasp from the feeling of your clit being sucked on, pressing your hips back to get him to do it even more. Megumi moans into your pussy, flicking his tongue up and down rapidly eliciting a screech from you.

You feel yourself spurring close, ready to release at any moment as Megumi’s tongue seems to lick at your sensitive bud inconceivably faster. You let out a choked moan, cumming hard as he continues to lick at your overstimulated clit, pulling your hips back when you attempt to escape.

Megumi pulls his face out of your leaking cunt, his face slick with your juices as he lines himself up with your entrance, teasing your folds with the tip of his cock. He takes his time teasing you, wanting you to beg for him to fuck you like he always does.

“Sir please, need you so bad”

“If you’re loud enough, maybe I’ll let you cum.” That’s all it takes for him to push himself inside you, stretching you out all at once. It burns, after not having fucked him for weeks on top of his cock just being that fucking big, you hiss from finally feeling him inside you.

“Fuck, you have no idea how much I missed fucking this little pussy,” Megumi moans when he gets his hips flush against your ass, pressing your head into the bench as he begins to push himself in and out of your tight cunt at a fast pace.

He’s fucking you so hard and rough, you feel yourself being fucked into the wall in front of you, your head repeatedly knocking against it as you let out a string of moans.

Megumi rolls you over onto your back, immediately sinking himself back inside you and beginning to piston his hips. Nothing else can be heard besides the shower that’s still running and the loud sloshes of your cunt, the steam from the water making the enclosed space foggy.

“Feels too good, can’t take it” you cry out, trying to push Megumi away only for him to pin your arms over your head, pounding into you even harder.

“Feels good baby? I’ll make you feel even better,” grabbing the shower head, he adjusts the pressure to the highest setting before placing it directly over your clit, still too sensitive from cumming earlier.

The pressure from the stream of water on your clit elicits a scream from you, and you feel the coil in you about to snap in you yet again. You had never thought of using the shower head for anything other than cleaning yourself, but the way Megumi was using it on you now unlocked a new level of pleasure you couldn’t even describe.

“I-I can’t-- I can’t,” you sobbed, tears trickling down your face from the overwhelmingness of it all

“You asked for this princess, you have to take it.” he sticks his fingers in your mouth all the way down to the second knuckle, pressing down harshly on your tongue continuing fuck into you, the tip of his fat dick bruising your cervix.

God, he was being so rough. And you loved every second of it. After not being able to have him inside you for weeks, anything he gave you was bound to make you cum on the spot.

Megumi revels at your sweet moans resonating in the air, echoing within the shower walls only making him go harder.

“‘M cumming,” your face contorts in pleasure, a broken sob leaving your mouth with your lips falling open as you feel your second orgasm washing over you, your walls convulsing around his cock.

Megumi follows right after you, fucking you through your high before he lets the shower head slip from his hand, grunts and a string of “fucks” leaving his mouth as he pulls out and releases himself on you, strings of white coating your stomach and chest.

His hand slows as he comes down from his high, picking up the shower head to rinse your stomach and tits off where he came. Megumi shuts the water off before stepping out of the shower, fog spilling out of the enclosed space.

You hear water running in the distance of the huge bathroom before he comes back, scooping your limp body up and carrying you to the tub. You pant in his arms, still not fully recovered from the pleasure he just gave you. Megumi sets you in the tub that’s filled with bubbles, causing you to whine and fuss when you see him disappear for a split second.

Megumi settles into the tub behind you, shushing you and pulling your body to his with your back against his hard chest.

“I’m right here baby, you can relax” he plants sweet kisses on your neck and shoulder as you ease into his touch, sighing in contentment.

“But you have to be up in the morning,” you protest.

His hands massage your waist, making you shudder when he kisses the shell of your ear.

“You’ve been working so hard, let me take care of you.”

His sweet words make you melt in his arms. Perhaps you’d indulge him for now.

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 5 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Here’s chapter 5!  I hope y'all enjoy the sexual tension!!!

Title: Succession Chapter 5

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, the Duke

Rating: PG-13 for language, sexual tension (also may be triggering with kidnapping and forceful grabbing) this is a slow burn; it will get very smutty and spicy later on!

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary.  While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter 5

When he left you to go retrieve your belongings from the crash, you had very little to do to entertain yourself.  You looked over the books he had lying around.  A few books were in German.  The other books were of topics you didn’t find interesting.  But there were a few pieces of fiction that proved to be of interest and passed the time until Heisenberg returned.

Five hours later, you heard the keys in the lock and you jumped for joy...not because he was back, but because you were in terrible need of the bathroom.  

“Honey, I’m home!” Heisenberg called out before laughing at his own joke.  You looked down to see your suitcase and messenger bag as well as two other small suitcases under his arms.  Son of a bitch, you thought, he actually found my stuff!

“You were actually able to find my bags?” you asked, watching as he placed them down at your feet.

“I sure did, doll face,” he answered, “I also found a few other suitcases that I think could be of use to you...they look to have been owned by women on the flight...and I doubt they’ll be using them anymore…”  

“Hey!” you said with an air of disbelief, “everyone on that plane died!  I appreciate you bringing me more clothes, but show some respect!”

Heisenberg chuckled and held up his hands in surrender.  As you stooped down to inspect your bags, Heisenberg gave you a thorough once over.  His long sleeved shirt hung on you, the hem of it coming to your mid thigh.  Your hair was rustled and in need of a good brushing, but it gave you a wild, post-sex look that made him stiffen slightly in his pants.

You stood up and looked up at him.  “Thank you, Karl,” you said and his cock stiffened even more at the sound of his name on your lips.

“It was nothing,” he said, turning and walking towards the table, “I was going through the wreckage for scrap metal anyway...just thought I’d try and look for your stuff while I was at it…”

“Karl?” you spoke...and once again Heisenberg had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning at his name, “can I use the toilet?  I really have to go and there isn’t one in here…”

“Yeah, sure…” he muttered.  He turned towards you and grabbed your arm, pulling you out of the door.

“Oww!  You don’t have to grab me so hard!” you spat as he walked you across the hall.  Heisenberg said nothing; he simply opened the door.  You looked in to find a small room with a toilet and a steel sink.

“Come back into the room when you are done,” he growled, “do not make me chase after you again…”  You ignored his moody temperament and went into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind you.  Cursing under his breath, Heisenberg walked back into his room.

“What the fuck are you doing, Karl?” Heisenberg muttered to himself as he grabbed a drinking glass, filled it with water, and sat down at the table.  He reached down to adjust his cock in his pants before digging in his jacket for another cigar.

A few moments later, he heard the bathroom door open.  He listened for fast retreating steps running down the hallway, but was pleasantly surprised when he heard you walk back into the room.

*

“How’s that, huh?  Comfy?”

Heisenberg had secured your wrists in the makeshift handcuffs that hung from his headboard, making sure that you were not going anywhere for the evening.  You looked up at him and shot him the most murderous glare you could muster, to which he let out a laugh.  Releasing your wrists, he walked over to his dresser.

After you returned from the bathroom, Heisenberg left and locked you in again, allowing you to change into your clean clothes.  When he came back, you were in your pajamas:  a black halter top and blue drawstring shorts.  You were sitting at the fireplace, keeping warm and sitting on a blanket.  You noticed his jaw clench and his shoulders stiffen when he looked at you.

He draped his trenchcoat over the back of the chair and told you there was an area in the factory where you could wash your clothes and hang them to dry and that he would take you there in the next few days.  You thanked him, but just when you thought he was actually kind, he grabbed you and began cuffing you to the bed.

“What time is it?” you asked as you plopped down on the bed, curling up on your side.  You pulled on the long chain so you could reach for the sheets and covers, pulling them up over your body.

“Past midnight,” Heisenberg answered, walking to his dresser.  You had lost all sense of time since the crash and you couldn’t believe how late it was.

You looked over at him, wanting to ask another question, when your voice and your brain stopped.  Heisenberg had removed his hat, his sunglasses, and the objects hanging from his neck, placing them on top of the dresser...and removed his shirt.  Your mouth opened as you took in his body.  He was in good shape; his back, chest, arms, and torso well defined from working in the factory.  He had scars that peppered his body, but seeing as he worked with steel and metal all day, that wasn’t unusual.

Heisenberg undid his belt and pulled it from the loops of his pants, wrapping it around his hands and placing it on the dresser.  Impure thoughts flowed through your mind of him using that belt on you...spanking you...restraining your wrists behind your back...wrapping it around your neck like a collar…

You laid your head back down on the pillow and pushed the intruding thoughts away.  This was a man who kidnapped you and is keeping you locked away in his factory.  He had countless bodies down below and who knows what he did with them.  He wouldn’t let you use a telephone or any sort of communication to get help.  Why was he keeping you here?

Heisenberg walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers.  He left the lamp on the table turned on in order to give you an ounce of comfort.  God knows you wouldn’t be able to sleep in the pitch black next to a stranger.

He glanced over at you curled up facing away from him, taking in your shoulders, your back, and the curve of your hips underneath the covers.  His lust for you was growing.  Hell, it took every ounce of self control not to throw you on his bed when he walked in and saw you sitting at his fireplace.  The light dancing off your face and the way your pajamas hugged your curves nearly did him in.  You had left his shirt on the table once you put your clothes on.  He picked it up when your back was turned, lifted it to his nose, and smelled your scent on his shirt.  He didn’t know how much more of this torture he could take.

Heisenberg turned his gaze to the ceiling, adjusted his cock in his pants again, and relaxed back into his pillow.

*

You awoke to the sounds of drawers opening and closing loudly.  Heisenberg didn’t make any attempt to be quiet so as not to disturb your sleep.  You blinked and groaned, turning your face into the pillow.

“Well, good morning, sunshine!” Heisenberg greeted as he tucked his shirt into his pants and grabbed his belt.  You groaned again.  You hadn’t slept well at all.  The weight of all that happened came to reality once again as you laid cuffed to the bed.  Anxiety brewed in your belly and the only reason you were able to drift off was after a long bout of crying once Heisenberg had fallen asleep.  The man had slept soundly, as was evident by his fitful snores throughout the night.

“Come on,” Heisenberg said, unlocking your restraints and letting them fall to the floor.  You sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing your wrists.

“Where are we going?” you asked as you knelt beside your suitcase, grabbing some clothes.

“To see the Duke,” Heisenberg answered, “I need some supplies…”

He allowed you to dress in the bathroom across the hall and take your toiletries with you in order to brush your teeth, wash your face, and brush your hair.  Once you were done, you opened the door and found him leaning against the wall.  He had put on his trench coat, hat, and gloves while he waited.

Heisenberg made his way down the hall and you followed behind, much to his shock.  He half expected you to turn around and run the other way, desperate once again to get away from him.  The fact that you still stuck by his side made a slow smile spread across his face.

He slid open the large doors one at a time.  The air was cold in the early morning.  The sun was shining with just a few clouds in the sky.  It was a pretty day.  You looked over at Heisenberg as he put his sunglasses on.

You followed Heisenberg down the path and looked out towards the gate.  They were open wide and sitting there was a large wooden carriage.  The back doors were opened and there was an array of things hanging from the doors and sitting along the ground on either side of the carriage.  As the two of you approached, you saw a man sitting inside the carriage amongst the supplies.  He wore clothes that were smaller than his big frame.  A cigar was in his hand and he lifted it to his mouth.  Once his eyes fell on you, they widened slightly.

“Well well well...who do we have here?” the man asked, looking down at you.  Heisenberg said nothing to the man and immediately began searching through the wares.

“I’m Y/N,” you answered.  

“You can call me the Duke, Y/N...and it is lovely to meet you…”  He leaned down and extended his hand.  You stepped closer, stood up on your tiptoes, and shook the man’s hand, smiling.  He had a kind face and seemed very nice and polite.  “I don’t suppose you know anything of that plane crash I saw not too far from here…” the Duke mentioned.

You nodded just as Heisenberg grumbled under his breath.  “I was on the plane,” you said softly, “I don’t think anyone else survived other than myself…”

“Well,” the Duke said, “it’s a miracle you did survive.  The crash looked very unpleasant…”

“What will you take for this?” Heisenberg interrupted gruffly, holding up something wrapped in paper with PORK written on it.  The Duke rattled off a price to which Heisenberg offered a cheaper price.  The two of them bartered as you stood there in silence.

A loud huff came from the front of the carriage and you stepped to the side in order to see what made the noise.  A horse stood facing away, reins hanging from its mouth.  The horse was jet black with long hair falling from its neck.  You smiled.  You had always loved horses.

Walking closer to the animal, you placed your hand on its hip and ran your hand along the horse’s body as you walked closer to the front.  You remembered one summer when you took equestrian lessons and the trainer told you to always keep one hand on the horse as you walked around it in order not to spook the animal.

“Hey…” you said softly as you looked up into its eyes.  The horse let out another huff, the steam of its breath pushing out of its nose.  You smiled and slowly began to pet along its neck and hair.  The horse seemed very relaxed, allowing you to pet it.  You raised your other hand in front of its face and it nudged your hand.  You laughed softly as you praised the beautiful animal.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING??”

You jumped back from the horse and turned to see Heisenberg standing at the back of the carriage.  His gloved hands were balled into fists as he stood glaring at you.

“I’m petting the horse!” you answered shrilly.  

Jesus Christ, you thought, I wasn’t doing anything.  You were about to yell obscenities towards the man, but then you took in Heisenberg’s rigid stance and his chest rising and falling.  You knew exactly why he was so upset.  “...you thought I had run off, didn’t you?” you asked.

“Come back over here where I can see you…” he growled.

You walked back to Heisenberg and the Duke, mentally calling Heisenberg every filthy name you could think of.  Your arms were crossed in front of you and you kept your mouth shut.  You took in the scenery around you, kicking the dirt and rocks on the ground.

Finally, Heisenberg seemed to be finished with whatever supplies he needed from the Duke.  He paid for his things, loaded them into a sack provided by the Duke, and turned to you.  “Let’s go,” he muttered, grabbing your arm and walking back towards the factory.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N,” the Duke said.  You turned to look back at him, giving him a small smile and a wave.  As you continued walking with Heisenberg, a sudden ounce of defiance sprung in you and you turned back to the Duke, pulling your arm from Heisenberg’s grasp.

“Oh, and Duke,” you said, “if you hear of any search parties in the area, please let them know a survivor is here at the factory…”

“No!” Heisenberg interjected, “don’t say anything!  Y/N will be just fine here!”  He grabbed your arm again in a sudden jerk and marched quickly to the double doors of the factory, practically dragging you behind him.

Once the two of you walked over the threshold and into the building, he pushed you forward with a loud grunt.  You shrieked and fell to your hands and knees as he dropped the sack and quickly closed one door and then the other.  Once he secured the lock, Heisenberg grabbed you by the nape of your neck, pulled you to your feet, and whirled you around so that your back was pressed against the nearest wall.

“What the fuck are you trying to pull??” Heisenberg growled, his right hand wrapped around your throat.  He pressed his left hand against the wall next to your head, keeping you from escaping.  “First off, the Duke will not help you.  He stays neutral in all things pertaining to this village.  And second, if you wander away from me again, I’ll make sure you permanently stay shackled to my bed for the rest of your days!”

“Fuck you!” you spat at him, hitting at his arm and trying to wriggle away.  His fingers tightened on your neck.  You tried to kick him, but you weren’t quick enough.  Heisenberg pushed your legs apart with his feet and thrust his hips against yours, keeping your body pressed against the wall.  Your hands wrapped around his arm as you struggled to push it from your neck.

You looked up into his face, both of you breathing heavily.  You could barely see his eyes through the sunglasses.  He tilted your head up.  The softest touch of the tip of your nose touched his nose.  Heat grew between your legs at the feel of his groin against yours.  Your eyes widened when you felt the growing hardness of his cock through his pants.  Without thinking, you slowly tilted your hips upwards.

With a soft groan, Heisenberg rolled his hips against yours.  A quiet whimper escaped your lips and you instantly regretted it.  You watched as the ends of his mouth curled upwards in a knowing smile.  God damn him, you thought.  Your fingers continued to tighten on his arms.  Heat flushed your cheeks and your pupils grew.  Your hips tilted upwards once again.

Just as Heisenberg was able to press his lips to yours, you snapped out of it and brought your right hand across his cheek.  He barely registered the hit as he slowly took his hand off your neck and took a step back.

“Get your ass back to my quarters,” Heisenberg growled.

[milkmynk]

2Ha’s Confession Scene

Translation for a friend, spoilers under the cut.

>>> SPOILERS

>>> SPOILERS

>>> SPOILERS

(Shizun has a fear of heights, but he requested Mo Ran to teach him how to fly on a sword.)

Chu Wan Ning, seeing that he hadn't made a sound for some time, turned his head and prompted, "What's wrong?"

Mo Ran didn't reply, his head was spinning. He longed to possess him, to hold him, to kiss him.

Involuntarily, he moved closer.

And then, suddenly, he realized that after putting up the barrier [to help Shizun feel more secure], even though Chu Wan Ning had relaxed slightly, his lips were white and compressed into a tight line, and he looked very pale. His arms were folded against himself, his slender fingers unconsciously clutching his forearms, twisted in the cold fabric.

Even when he was afraid, Chu Wan Ning didn't grab onto someone else, only himself.

Mo Ran was stunned for a moment.

Then, the aggressive light in his eyes faded, shattering into a million twinkling fragments.

Extremely gentle.

Those lips that were about to rashly kiss him, slightly upturned, becoming a soft and wry smile.

Those arms that were about to abruptly embrace him, stopped, and after a moment, touched his chilled hand.

"You......" Chu Wan Ning was startled, a flush flooding into his pale face, but warned him in a low voice, "What are you doing."

He wanted to withdraw his hand, but Mo Ran was gripping it, and refused to let go. Chu Wan Ning felt like his frozen fingers had fallen into a large, extremely warm hand, tightly enclosing his palm all the way to his fingertips.

"Stop relying only on yourself," Mo Ran chided, "I'm here, you can rely on me."

If Chu Wan Ning had still been able to be calm before this, after hearing that, no matter how dense he was, how hesitant, he could not fail to detect the affection in it.

What's more, those jet-black eyes were watching him, gravely and seriously, gently and tenderly. In an instant, Chu Wan Ning's heartbeat became as agitated as a torrential storm, pattering against his soul.

He dared not to look at Mo Ran's eyes, and turned his face away violently, lowering his gaze.

Too hot.

Why was the air a hundred feet above ground, so hot.

He had always been haughty and composed, but at this moment it was as though he had suddenly stepped into a completely unfamiliar territory, his entire body stripped of all armor, his sharp claws blunted. In front of Mo Ran's sudden frankness, Chu Wan Ning's usual tactics seemed to become useless.

The man pried open his oyster shell heatedly, and with his straightforward gaze, looked upon the trembling flesh within. No matter whether it was the luminescent pearl, or that sweet flesh, were completely bared to his gaze.

This haughty and composed person, having lost his defenses, suddenly felt flustered and at a loss.

What should he do...

What should he say?

What...

He realized that his hand was still held within Mo Ran's, closely twined.

He didn't know what he should do, and was both agitated and nervous, his eyes had even turned slightly red, subconsciously he tried again to withdraw his fingers.

But he had only moved a little, when Mo Ran tightly held onto him.

The man's palm had a sheen of sweat, and was slightly damp.

"Don't pull away."

"......"

He was strong, both stubborn and insistent. He didn't know why, but Chu Wan Ning suddenly felt like in his words, there seemed to be some sorrow.

Mo Ran's gaze was heavy and fiery, after staring at him for some time, he said in a low, hoarse voice, "Chu Wan Ning......"

"...... What did you call me?"

"...... My mistake."

Chu Wan Ning's entire body was even more tense than before, his heart racing even more than when he was practicing his sword-riding. He was not used to this, completely not used to this.

He strove to regain his composure, struggling one final time before falling into this chasm.

He lowered his eyelids and said, "Mmm, if you know you made a mistake in your words, then you're not completely hope......"

Mo Ran's heart was very hot, and finally without thinking about it, it slipped from him. "Wan Ning."

... -less.

Chu Wan Ning hadn't managed to say that last syllable. 

When he heard that gentle, husky voice carrying a hint of a sigh, his mind was filled with buzzing, and blanked out for a moment.

That last word, could no longer be said.

Hopeless.

Hopeless--

They had floundered at the edge of the swamp of desire for so long, and finally couldn't resist stepping a foot in, sinking into it, henceforth being ensnared in it, seeping into their bones.

Mo Ran's voice was deep and hoarse, he watched him intently. "Wan Ning, actually, these few days I had something, I always wanted to ask you."

"......"

His heart burning madly, Mo Ran tightly gripped Chu Wan Ning's hand, his fingers trembling, "No, I won't ask you anymore."

Chu Wan Ning had just breathed a sigh of relief, when Mo Ran continued.

"I won't ask anymore, I only want to tell you."

Mo Ran went straight to the point, never turning back.

In a single breath, he used the entirety of his courage.

"I love you."

His heart shook wildly.

"I love you, not that of a disciple's for his master, it's... I'm too audacious, I..... I love you."

Chu Wan Ning closed his eyes, his fingertips enclosed in that person's boiling, damp heat, from trembling, they slowly, slowly stilled.

How could it be.

How could it be......

He definitely heard it wrong, he was so ugly, so fierce, so bad at talking, so uninteresting, he was a pathetic idiot with not a single good point to him. Who would love him?

"I love you."

Chu Wan Ning was dazed for very, very long, he really didn't know what he should say, his heart was in turmoil and completely at a loss. He even felt bitterness, he even felt fear, his mind was practically a blank. He wanted to, as usual, draw his sleeves and scold, "nonsense", "idiocy", he thought of many things, but they all got stuck in his throat.

After freezing for a long time, Chu Wan Ning finally, hoarsely, nonsensically, said, "...... I have a horrible temper."

"You're very good to me."

"I, I'm old."

"You look younger than me."

Chu Wan Ning was nearly agitated, at a loss and helpless. "I'm so ugly......"

It was Mo Ran's turn to be stunned, his eyes went wide as he stared at this extremely handsome man before him. He could not understand why someone as good-looking as him, would think so poorly of himself?

Chu Wan Ning, seeing that he didn't make a sound, became even more flustered internally. He lowered his head, "I'm not good-looking."

"......"

"Not as good-looking as you."

As he quietly murmured, suddenly a warm hand cupped his cheek. He heard Mo Ran sigh, even gentler than tonight's moon. "Are you willing to look into my eyes for a while?"

Chu Wan Ning said, "Your eyes......?"

Mo Ran's gaze was warm and tender, reflecting a white-clad man, and he said, "Do you see it? That is the best-looking man in the world."

Chu Wan Ning stared at him, even though his heart was like a violent storm, his cold face still did not show much emotion.

Mo Ran held his hand, it was sweaty. 

Again, he said quietly, "I love you."

Chu Wan Ning felt like he was pricked, his fingers trembled, after a moment, he lowered his head. "I love you" was like a sharp knife, stabbing into his heart and making his blood race hotly, there was no going back. Chu Wan Ning's eyes were red, perhaps he had really waited too long, he had no idea that he would have this kind of reaction from hearing these words. He was very agitated, almost to the point of crying, as he said, "I'm no good. I... I've never been liked by anyone before."

I've never been liked by anyone before.

There was never anyone who, because they have me, would feel happy, feel proud, feel blessed.

It had been thirty-two years.

Never been liked by anyone before.

When Mo Ran heard this, when he looked at this man who didn't even want to lift his head, he suddenly ached and ached. He ached till his heart felt like it was splitting apart, like his bones were crumbling to dust.

This was his precious treasure, yet it had been buried in dust for half a lifetime.

He ached till he didn't know what to say.

In the end, all he could do was stupidly grip Chu Wan Ning's hand tightly, and repeat endlessly, "There is someone. There is someone."

Someone loves you. I love you.

Someone wants you, someone wants you, so don't look down on yourself anymore, don't be so silly, making such a wonderful you sound like you're worthless. Stupid.

Stupid Chu Wan Ning.

I love you.

After very long, Mo Ran asked, “And what about you?”

“...... What?”

Mo Ran lowered his eyelids, his lashes shivering, “I… I’m so stupid, so inconsiderate, so unreliable, I… I even did many unforgivable things.”

He paused for a moment, then continued in a small voice, “Will you like me?”

Chu Wan Ning had originally already lifted his face, but when he heard him say that, when he met those gentle black eyes, incredibly, he became flustered again. With a strength he didn’t know he had, he jerked his hand out of Mo Ran’s, and turned his face away.

He did not nod his head, nor did he shake it.

He did not confirm it, nor did he deny it.

But Mo Ran clearly saw Chu Wan Ning’s ears turn red, the flush spreading to his graceful neck.

“That pouch……”

[Some context here, Mo Ran found a pouch CWN carried on his person, that contained the locks of hair both of them had cut off during the ghost marriage god incident, that was a symbol of their “marriage”]

“Don’t say it.” Chu Wan Ning suddenly said dully, his entire face now fully red, “You’re not allowed to say it.”

Mo Ran gazed at Chu Wan Ning’s expression of unwillingness and embarrassment, of anger and disconcertment, light and shadow flowing in his eyes, entwined with moonlight.

He inched closer, reached out his hand again, and captured Chu Wan Ning’s fingertips.

Chu Wan Ning was quivering, Mo Ran’s fingers were also lightly trembling, he covered Chu Wan Ning’s slender fingers, and then-- One by one, overlapped them with his own, and in a fashion never before--

Their fingers entwined, one palm against the other.

Chu Wan Ning’s entire face was flushed, and he turned his face away even more.

But, this time, he did not pull himself free.

Hence, Mo Ran held Chu Wan Ning’s hand, and at last, finally, he understood, confirmed it nervously.

Chu Wan Ning...... also liked him.

He finally, found out.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Chu Wan Ning, this was his first time entwining his fingers with Mo Ran’s, their palms overlapping.

He felt that it was enough, it was too much, thank goodness Mo Ran didn’t do anything more, or he probably would really leap down from a hundred feet in the air, and flee.

It was really fortunate.

But to Mo Ran, this was his god-knows what time he entwined his fingers with Chu Wan Ning’s, their palms overlapping.

He felt that it wasn’t enough, it was too little, but thank goodness he didn’t do anything more, otherwise after holding hands he would want to kiss him, and then demand even more, to thoroughly taste him.

It was really unfortunate.

But even so, Mo Ran could still detect that Chu Wan Ning seemed to be running away.

That day when they descended from the sword, Chu Wan Ning didn’t say a word, and turned to run. He ran for a couple of steps, felt like he was too hurried, and immediately slowed back down.

After he slowed down for a couple of steps, he heard Mo Ran following himself behind him, and spurred by his embarrassment and agitation, he began to run again.

“……”

Mo Ran watched him striding quickly, his heart tender and ticklish, hot and soft.

When he saw that Chu Wan Ning was striding, head down, straight towards a large tree, Mo Ran immediately warned, “Watch out---!”

“Bam!”

But he still hit the tree straight on.

He hurried over and asked, “Does it hurt? Let me see.”

Chu Wan Ning pressed his forehead wordlessly, and after a while, continued walking.

Mo Ran wanted to follow him, but heard him say, “Don’t follow me.”

“I… also need to go back and rest, right.”

“Stand there and let the wind blow at you for a while, come back after you’ve cooled down.”

Cool down?

Mo Ran smiled, how am I supposed to cool down?

After holding your hand, this night, my heart will always be hot.

But he still obediently stopped following. He stood under that cold moonlight, watched Chu Wan Ning walk away, and watched him until he disappeared behind the wall. Only then did he walk to that tree Chu Wan Ning had carelessly walked into. After being silent for a while, he pressed his forehead against the tree bark.

The bark was rough, he closed his eyes.

Chu Wan Ning……

Likes him.

Dancing flowers flowing like water, the lonely island seems like spring.

The brilliant moon glowing in the sky, the serene clouds shading the sun.

The tide surging wordlessly, the water and the sky of a colour.

No matter how wonderful the mortal world was, nothing could compare to those words, Chu Wan Ning likes him.

Even though his vocabulary was so poor, his talent so dim, at this moment his heart still swelled, poetry welling like a spring. Love could turn a simple, straightforward idiot like Mo Wei Yu into a poet, Chu Wan Ning likes him, Chu Wan Ning…… Chu Wan Ning likes him!

He ground his forehead against the tree bark, he wanted to calm down, wanted to restrain himself, wanted to “cool down”, wanted to……

It’s no use, he couldn’t do it.

He could no longer calm down, he couldn’t restrain himself, he couldn’t cool down, his closed eyes were trembling, his lashes drenched in gentleness and crazed joy. The corners of his mouth curled upwards, the dimples in his cheeks growing deeper and deeper, the sweetness in them overflowing.

Chu Wan Ning likes him.

Likes him.

It’s… It’s that person he was heads over heels in love with, it’s that most wonderful person in the world, it’s that person he wanted to hold in his embrace for the rest of his life, it’s Chu Wan Ning…… It’s Chu Wan Ning……

Unbelievably, the great ex-Taxian-jun, current Mo-zongshi, on this deserted, pristine beach, leaned against a large tree and with his eyes closed and head lowered, he laughed, his shoulders shaking.

Because Chu Wan Ning liked him, the wind he smelled was sweet, the sound of the waves in his ears was sweet.

Chu Wan Ning, likes him.

He laughed with his eyes closed, but as he laughed, suddenly, he began to cry.

Like a madman, his lips were stretched in a smile, but tears flowed from his eyes. It was so sweet, and yet his heart hurt so much.

Chu Wan Ning……

Likes him.

Ever since the Butterfly Town incident, he had secretly kept the pouch holding their twined locks of hair.

Likes him……

He suddenly wanted to know, when was it that Chu Wan Ning started standing behind himself, staying by him silently, waiting for him silently, waiting for him to turn his head, waiting for him to stretch out his hand, waiting for him to turn towards him.

How long had Chu Wan Ning waited?

This lifetime, the lifetime before.

All together, twenty years?

Even longer than twenty years.

He, Mo Wei Yu, had seen through the dust of the mortal world, and knew that the world’s most precious thing, was time.

With power and influence, you could be all-powerful, every kind of treasure or honeyed words would come to you without ceasing. But only time, once lost, could not be regained.

If a person was willing to redeem you with ten thousand taels, that was lust.

If a person was willing to redeem you with their beautiful future, that was love.

And if a person was willing to use twenty years, their best years, to redeem you, to wait for you.

Without a word, without asking for repayment, without asking for a result.

That was foolishness.

Really, really, it was too foolish.

Mo Ran’s throat was tight and sour, the bitterness climbing up his tongue, surging like the tide, and he thought---

Chu Wan Ning, you’re really…… too foolish.

Why? How?

What good deeds or attributes have I, Mo Wei Yu… That I could let you be like this to me.

You are the world’s best person, but me?

My hands are filled with blood, I’m better off dead, I’m reviled by thousands, I’m unworthy of reincarnation.

I bullied you, hated you, failed you, I killed you.

You don’t even know what I’ve done……

You don’t even know!!

Mo Ran hugged that tree, his sobs falling into the whistling ocean breeze. What has he done……

With Chu Wan Ning’s gaze on him, he chased another person’s back.

With Chu Wan Ning’s gaze on him, he stupidly waited for another to look at him.

In the Jincheng illusion, with his own mouth, he told Chu Wan Ning, Shimei, I like you.

He sliced Chu Wan Ning’s heart with a knife!

But, Chu Wan Ning?

He was as steadfast as a rock, an unmoving rock in the river current, even with his heart stabbed through, as though he were untouched, he continued taking care of him, tolerating him, accompanying him.

Until death.

…… Until death.

He laughed out loud, he wept, in the moonlight there was only himself, nobody could see him turn crazier and crazier.

Chu Wan Ning, in two lifetimes, in two lifetimes even until death, he didn’t let Mo Ran know of his feelings. The most humble thing this proud man had done in his entire life, was to fall for someone.

For that person, he did everything he could, but in that long wait, he clearly understood that that person’s eyes would never hold himself. Under the clear understanding that that person would never love him, he chose not to bother, he chose not to alarm that person, he chose not to give even a single bit of trouble to others.

He chose, to keep the last of his dignity.

In their past lifetime, till death, he only ever said a single sentence, it was I who treated you unjustly, I do not grudge you whether I live or die.

This lifetime, he confessed his love for him, yet such a wonderful person, such a proud person like Chu Wan Ning, said, “I’m no good. I’ve never been liked by anyone before.”

Taxian-jun…… Mo Wei Yu…… What…… have you been doing……

What have you been doing!!!

Was he blind, or stupid?

How could he be so blind, how could he fail him so.

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 1)

Cellophane

Despite the U.A.’s insistence that the hero course wasn’t a spectacle for the rest of the world to watch, often when there was some free time, many students flocked to areas where the classes were training. They would lean against trees or pretend to be doing homework while watching the show of fire, explosions, and acid.

You were one of those observers. With a textbook in your lap, you sat beneath a tree with your friends, and watched 1A train their quirks.

The grass tickled at your legs and the sun warmed your skin. It was such a beautiful day despite the sounds of fighting. Occasionally a wash of warmth would flood over you as a large attack went off but you mostly ignored it.

“I think the green-haired one is the cutest,” one of the girls with you said. “He’s super sweet and clearly he’s really strong.”

“Have you seen the Todoroki boy though?” another responded. “Cute and brooding.”

You laughed, making a comment to more agree with the latter though you wouldn’t be interested in anybody as cold as that. Rumours floated around that he never spoke, not even to his own classmates. Many also believed his temper was as bad as his father’s given his massive attacks during the sports festival.

But you didn’t listen all too much to gossip about the hero course. Instead, you just enjoyed watching them in action and running away when their teacher spotted you all.

Luckily, today Eraserhead seemed preoccupied at the end of their class so most of the other students could hang around longer. While he was busy lecturing two of his students, the rest began making their way to the change rooms.

Almost instantly, everybody took advantage of being spared his glare and watched the heroes-in-training.

Some seemed uncomfortable with the rest of the school’s presence while others relished in it. You watched as the shortest of the group winked at every girl, he made eye contact with, including yourself and laughed as a girl from general studies attempted to confess to the most explosive hero of the class.

But it was a specific member who caught your eye and she waved excitedly when she saw you, hurrying over. “Hey!” she greeted. “Were you guys watching us train?”

You stood, brushing grass off your clothing, and smiling. “Yeah, we were. Couldn’t see much of you though, you were almost completely hidden.”

Mina sighed. “It’s so sad how these things happen. My acid doesn’t stand out too much amongst this group.”

You hadn’t known Mina for very long but your friendship was pretty strong. She had attached herself to you due to your talent with making her photos perfect (something of a challenge thanks to her skin tone often contrasting with everything).

Your other friends slipped away, clearly wanting better looks at whomever was being lectured. That kind of gossip went for a high price.

Somebody called for Mina and she gestured them over. “These are the best people in the hero course aside from yours truly,” she said. “Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero.” She gave them your name as well and you politely greeted them each.

“Your electricity is really impressive,” you told Kaminari. “Everybody talks about it when we’re watching the training.”

He smiled widely at that but Mina just groaned. “Of course, everybody notices the flashy quirk. Do you know how many people still think that my quirk is being pink?”

“It’s because they get distracted with bright lights and don’t notice the actual talent,” Sero told her playfully. “Don’t worry about it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s not true.”

He chuckled. “It so is.”

“I mean, I notice your quirk all the time,” you said. “And it doesn’t have any lights. You’re just extremely smooth while fighting so you draw the eye.”

He seemed doubtful about that, acting as though you were complimenting him just for the sake of it. “Sure, sure. But when Bakugou unleashes a couple explosions, I bet your attention moves directly to him.”

“It doesn’t. I can prove it also.”

“How so?”

You gestured to the tree. “I’m always sitting right here. Keep an eye out for me next time – you’ll see whose fighting I favour watching.”

Chargebolt

It was a good day for there to be a pipe burst just outside of school.

The sun was shining, there was almost no wind, and there weren’t any large assignments due for almost a week. Overall, everything surrounding the day made it perfect for some rest and relaxation.

Your friend group finally made it up to the crest of the hill and stared around at the beautiful landscape. The view was magnificent. Almost as awe-inspiring as the school that you now stood across from. Every person knew about the hero school U.A. and now you had seen it in person.

“Imagine what it must be like to train to be a hero,” you mused. “I’m sure I would absolutely despise every second of it.”

Everybody laughed, jokes spreading about how they would be too lazy for constant workouts or how their hero names would just be too embarrassing. One girl whose quirk allowed her to pop her eyeballs out made a joke about how her entire career would surround traumatizing children.

“Why hello,” a very high-pitched voice greeted.

You startled, looking down at the small boy. He had bright purple hair and a cocky smirk on his face that just screamed trouble.

Luckily for you, his attention was more focused on others.

“I’m guessing you ladies are here to admire the toughest heroes in the country, right?” he said. “Well, luckily for you, you’re looking at one of the best in the entire school.”

You snorted. “Are you even old enough to be walking around without your parent?”

“Nobody was asking you,” he retorted. “I was speaking to the absolute beauties before me.”

Yourself and two girls that he was ignoring took steps away. They seemed interested in fighting however while you just enjoyed the show. It wasn’t the first time that your group had been annoyed by pervs and you each had different ways of dealing with it.

While he was busy screaming in shock as two eyeballs fell from a girl’s skull, somebody approached you, looking rather embarrassed.

“I’m sorry about him,” the blond said. He kept a confident smile on but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He’s not well-versed in speaking to beautiful woman.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, willing to play along with somebody who made eye contact before staring at your boobs. Unlike his friend. “And I’m guessing that you’re much better at that?”

“Oh definitely,” he said, stretching. He wore his U.A. uniform still but carried little of the arrogance you had come to expect from the school.

“Well, show me your best line then,” you said, turning to face him properly.

He startled at that. For a second, he eyed you cautiously as though your response was some kind of prank. Then he cleared his throat and said, “You owe me a drink.”

You smiled at the cheesiness. “And why is that?”

“Because you spilled it – wait, no, because you’re so beautiful that you made me spill it.”

You brought your hand to your mouth, laughing at the world’s most common pickup line that still managed to fail somehow. “Points for trying,” you said. “Though, I’ll give you a hint. When you go and hit on your next target, you can start with your name. Makes you seem a little less forward.”

He blushed at that but pointed to himself regardless. “I’m Denki Kaminari,” he introduced himself.

You offered your name. “And you’re a U.A. student?”

“Yeah, I’m in the hero course.”

“Oh that’s why you look so familiar,” you said. “I’ve seen you in the news before. You’re the electricity guy, right?”

He clicked his fingers and a spark jumped between them. Unfortunately, you were standing close enough that it then moved to you. It wasn’t powerful enough to hurt but you still jumped at the unexpected jolt.

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

“No problem,” you replied with a smile. “It was nice meeting you Kaminari. I’m going to go and save your friend from being beaten up though. See you around!”

Creati

The rain was pouring down outside, whipping the trees around. It seemed to be desperate to reach where you stood beneath a roof outcropping. A few splashes landed on your shoes and you shuffled back further still.

Just one short run.

Holding your bag against your chest, you lowered your head and ran for it. The ground was slippery beneath your feet but you managed to keep your balance pretty well. At least, you did until somebody collided with you. Given how everybody was holding their heads down, it was inevitable.

You went down with a squelch into the mud, a sharp pain shooting through both knees and one arm. There was a yelp as the other person fell also.

Rain pounded on your heads. You glanced up to find another student sitting on her ass. She had been carrying her bag on her chest also which had saved it from the mud.

Your own was less lucky.

Cursing under your breath, you dragged yourself to your feet and held out a hand to her. You had to use your weaker one because it was the only part of you that wasn’t covered in mud.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised.

“No, I am,” she said. “That was entirely my fault! I wasn’t looking where I was going and –“

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and you both froze. Thinking at the same time, you put your apologies on hold to rush to the closest shelter, thankfully the entrance of the school that you were both heading into either way.

You looked down at your ruined uniform and groaned. It was going to be really difficult to clean and certainly wouldn’t be alright before class.

The girl was mud-splattered also. Flecks covered her face and the back of her high pony was dripping with the stuff.

“We’re making an awful mess…” you said, looking down at the floor.

Other students rushed past you guys, a few giving you curious looks.

“We can get slightly cleaned up in the bathroom,” she urged. “Come on.”

You followed her into the nearest bathroom and quickly went to work dropping your ruined bag in the corner and cleaning off your arms and legs. “I really am sorry,” you said when she let her hair down. “I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

She shook her head. “No, that really was my fault. I’m so sorry.”

“We’re both going to get into trouble with uniforms now though,” you said. “That’s not great. I was really hoping to fly under the radar today… what are you doing?”

She had lifted up the bottom of her shirt and her skin seemed to be glowing brightly. After a second, a perfectly folded skirt emerged. She took it and placed it in front of her before turning to you, “What size do you wear?”

“What?”

“I’ll make you some replacements quickly if you let me know what size you are.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You can do that?”

She nodded. “I’m going to make you another bag also so you can start taking all your stuff out.”

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “I really appreciate this but you don’t have to –“

“It doesn’t cost me anything,” she said with a smile.

Soon, you left the bathroom with a new uniform and bag. The only signs that you had even slipped was the occasional bit of mud that you had missed. She followed you out and the two of you soon came to a split in the corridors.

You reached out and rubbed some mud from her arm. “I should have known you were hero course,” you joked. “Thanks for everything and I really am sorry for running into you. Perhaps you can tell me your name? That way I can brag when you’re a famous hero one day.”

She blushed but held out her hand. “I’m Momo Yaoyorozu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Deku

It all began in the early hours of the morning when the sun had just made its way over the horizon. Having arrived sooner than anticipated, you were standing outside with your friends and talking about various aspects of life. A topic that, inevitably, brought up quirks.

Everybody began messing around with their own. Some levitated their bags while others changed their hair colour – simple things that weren’t all too impressive but remained entertaining.

You played around with your own a little, relishing in the freedom that came with using it.

Something that always irritated you was the inability to use your quirk in public settings. Especially when it was something benign. For this reason, you adored your school more than most other locations. U.A. inspired a sense of relief due to its casual acceptance of pretty much anybody. No matter their size, quirk, or appearance.

By the time you had finished your conversation, you all had begun heading into the main building. You reached into your pocket to quickly realise that your phone was missing.

“See you guys in class,” you said to your friends, darting out to grab it again.

You exited the main door, scanning the area when somebody tapped your arm.

“Sorry, you left this outside.”

“Oh!” you said, taking your phone. “Thank you! I was just coming to look for this.”

The person who had helped you offered a cheery smile. He was recognisable in the way that all hero-course students were. They carried their personalities in their walks. Yet, his name completely escaped you.

“No problem,” he said. “I was really hoping I could find you instead of turning it in.”

The two of you walked back into the building alongside one another. “At least at a hero school, I don’t have to worry about it going missing,” you joked. “I feel like I should know your name but it’s just slipping from my mind, sorry.”

“Izuku Midoriya,” he said. “Why should you know my name?”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t know that 1A are basically local celebrities.”

He blushed at that, coughing as he scrambled to regain his composure. “I don’t… well, I don’t know about being famous or anything. We’re just regular students, really.”

“Except you’re attacked by villains constantly.”

“Except for that, yes.”

You laughed, drawing unneeded attention from other students in the hall. They were all staring and trying to figure out if they could spread any kind of gossip about this interaction. The local soap opera that was class 1A had many students involved in the happenings of others’ lives.

“So, I noticed you were using your quirk earlier,” Midoriya said, bringing your attention back to him. His hair helped him to stand out with its fluffy, green nature but his voice remained soft. “Do you have any pro-heroes in your family?”

“One of my aunts,” you said. “She inspired me to come to U.A. in the first place.”

He surprised you by immediately saying her hero name. When you didn’t initially respond, he gave you a quizzical look.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Your quirks are similar but not enough for immediate family,” he said. “Do you have the same limitations with your own? I know she has a weakness with it that many villains like to exploit which could be the reason why she’s never risen higher in the rankings… not that she isn’t a great hero, of course, but it’s a well-known flaw in her quirk.”

You chuckled at that. “I mean, well-known for a very small level hero,” you said. “The types of villains that she deals with hardly have the brain cells to remember their own names.”

“It doesn’t make her work any less important.”

You smiled at that, appreciative of the notion. “I don’t actually know much about her quirk,” you admitted. “My own is pretty lack-luster. I can experiment with it and let you know what I find out, if you really want to know.”

“Yeah! That would be great! I could – oh, wait, no that’s probably an odd thing to say…” he trailed off, looking lost in thought. “Well, just let me know?”

“Of course,” you said. “Bye! Have a great day.”

Your own classroom felt surprisingly uninteresting without him there. You looked around at all the familiar faces and smiled. It wasn’t like you wouldn’t see him again.

Dynamight

“What are you, a coward?”

You glanced up from your phone, the challenge lighting a spark in your eyes. “No,” you said. “I just don’t take bets that I know I’m going to lose.”

Sighing dramatically, your friend slumped back in her chair and toyed with the food in front of her. She huffed a stray strand of hair from her face. “You used to be fun,” she groaned. “What happened to the person who would take any dare, no matter how high the odds?”

“I just don’t see the point in wagering my daifuku, one of my favourite snacks by the way, on something pointless.”

“It’s not like you have to land a date, just talk to him for like a minimum of a minute.”

You glanced down at your dessert and contemplated her offer. The cafeteria was busy, as always, and you could hear almost four conversations going on at once. Most were unrelated to schoolwork but quite a few mentioned the infamous class 1A who were sitting on the opposite side of the room.

From where you were, you could make out a few of the more recognisable members, including the reason that everybody was discussing the class right now.

“I feel like you’re setting me up for failure,” you said. “He’s clearly in a bad mood already.”

“When is he not?”

Groaning, you stood up from the table and stretched a little. “If I come back uninjured, you have to double the payment, alright?”

Perhaps you had too much of a reputation already – or maybe people were just shameless eavesdroppers – but several perked up as you made your way toward the hero course’s regular tables. They were all prepared for some kind of show, be it from you or from the subject of your attention.

Class 1A’s personal explosive, Katsuki Bakugo had made a scene not too long ago, prompting the very dare that had you making you way over there.

His table hosted five people and you chose the pink girl’s seat to lean over once you arrived.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you greeted with a smile though your eyes held Bakugo’s.

He was agitated, that much was obvious, but you weren’t sure if it was the normal level or not. Your appearance definitely wasn’t a positive though.

“Who are you?” he snapped.

“An admirer,” you responded, allowing your attention to now rove over the other confused students. “Not just of you but of the entire hero course. I always wanted to apply but never quite got the marks so I was curious what its like. And you seem to be, by far, the most approachable of the lot.”

The girl you were standing beside snorted with laughter. “Good one,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Mina.”

You introduced yourself with a smile, keeping the majority of your attention on Bakugo. “I do know most of your names,” you said. “Though that’s not saying too much. You’re all over the school and the news most weeks.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” she complained. “Do you want to sit with us?”

“I would love to,” you said, gladly taking a seat beside her and flashing Bakugo a bright smile. “Has anybody told you that your hair is adorable? Like it suits your whole aesthetic so well.”

“Fuck off.”

One of the other boys chuckled a little awkwardly but still responded with a shark-toothed grin. “Sorry, Bakugo doesn’t like compliments too much.”

“I don’t like them when they’re so clearly fake,” he scoffed, eyeing you up. “I know you morons struggle to understand but people don’t just come over to make friends. This is a dare of some kind, isn’t it?”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t make friends while winning some extra dessert,” you said.

“People dare each other to come say hi to us?” the blond electricity guy asked. He had a charger hanging from his mouth.

“Not all of you.”

Bakugo scoffed, standing up from his chair sharply. “Hope you lose,” he said, storming away from the table and disappearing into the crowd.

Earphone Jack

The words ‘joint class’ had seemed fun when it was first mentioned. It wasn’t often that you interacted with students outside of your course and many had presumed that it would be a simple way to split Present Mic’s focus between more people.

Unfortunately, you should have all seen the group project part coming.

“Working in the pro-hero industry will often have you alongside complete strangers,” it had been explained. “Whether on the battlefield or behind the scenes, you’re going to have some great times meeting new people and learning about your own limitations. I’ve chosen who I think you’ll get along with but I could be very wrong. We’ll have to see.”

You all groaned, already anticipating the lengthy assignment that would be coming up. It probably wouldn’t be as bad for the hero course students.

For the pairs, it was pretty expected. Nobody from the same course was working together and the majority of the pairs stuck to the same gender.

You understood why when you heard the small purple one start complaining about it being discriminatory or something.

Present Mic stood in front of your desk before you even knew it, a grin on his face.

Often, you thought that you were one of his favourites. You focused on his class and always actively engaged. Sometimes you would even see him outside of class and he would give you a great wave.

You really hoped that those kind sentiments carried over.

“You’re going to be working with Kyoka Jiro,” he announced. Then, leaning forward, he added, “The one with the purple hair and the audio jacks on her ears.”

Thankful that he hadn’t left you floundering, you stood up and took a deep breath. Going over and speaking to a new person shouldn’t be that hard but you really didn’t want to… still, it wasn’t optional.

“Hi,” you said when she looked up at your approach. “I believe we’re in a team. You’re Jiro, right?”

She rubbed the back of her head awkwardly but still smiled. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You sat down in the chair in front of her desk – vacant thanks to its occupant speaking to their own group member. “Present Mic said that he paired us up with people he thinks we’d get along with. Aside from my adoration of your hair, what else do we have in common?”

She reached up and touched her hair, laughing a little awkwardly. “Thank you. Maybe we both listen to the same music?”

“That could be it, what kind of things do you listen to?”

Jiro opened up at that question, immediately launching into a detailed conversation about her favourite and least favourite genres. You had heard of some of the bands that she mentioned but most were a little too obscure.

Then, you made a connection.

“Wait, your dad isn’t Kyotoku Jiro, is he?” you asked. “I used to listen to some of his old songs all the time.”

Jiro’s eyes lit up. “Really? He’s not extremely well-known so most people don’t know he even has songs but I’m super proud of my dad’s music. How did you find out about him?”

You were going to answer when Present Mic cleared his throat and you all turned your attention back to him.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” you whispered to Jiro.

The group project was actually far simpler than you had anticipated and probably could be done in the dedicated time you were provided with. Unfortunately, it seemed that Jiro and you were abysmally slow workers when together and so, you just had to spend more time together outside of class.

Even after it was handed in.

Froppy

Generally, you found that if you visited the pools just before lunch, there would be absolutely nobody there. It would be the perfect time to get some swimming done without worrying about interrupting anybody or feeling bad because you weren’t as fast as some of the hero course students.

You didn’t go every day but, when you had some spare time, you happily made your way to the pool.

About twenty minutes into your swimming though, you popped your head up to head up to hear somebody in the changing rooms. You knew that you shouldn’t get nervous. The pool was for everybody in the school and it was more than large enough that you could avoid social situations.

But still, your stomach churned.

You continued swimming, though now you were keeping your head up to watch for whoever came through the door. After what felt like forever, a small girl emerged with dark green hair.

She smiled when she saw you had noticed her and gave a friendly wave. “Hello.”

“Hi,” was your eloquent response.

She got in on the other side of the pool and you continued swimming your laps. For a while, you waited for her to start so that you could see how fast she swam but she just sat in the water with her eyes closed and her face turned to the sun.

You pulled yourself out of the pool to sit on the side, taking a brief break in your exercise. There was no need to be in pain tomorrow.

She opened her eyes and smiled at you. “You swim really well.”

“Oh,” you said, a blush igniting behind your cheeks. “Thank you. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

Her voice was croaky but not in an awkward way. You actually really enjoyed the sound of it – enough that you willingly engaged in the conversation in order to hear her speak.

“Are you sunbathing?” you asked.

“Soaking,” she responded. “My skin is more amphibian-like so I really need to keep it hydrated. I’m Tsu, by the way.”

You smiled and told her your name. She repeated it and you quickly found out that you really liked the way she said it. “Which course are you in?” you asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“I’m in the hero course,” she said. “It’s fun but it gets quite dangerous from time to time.”

“I would guess so… hopefully nothing too bad though.”

She shrugged. “I’ve nearly died once because a villain with a disintegration quirk tried to grab my face. That was terrifying.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

“Thankfully our teacher can take quirks away if he looks at you,” she said. “And then All Might arrived so everything ended well. I’m lucky that my quirk doesn’t hurt me or anything because lots of my other classmates have those kinds of issues. It’s just a little inconvenient to have to lounge in the pool every now and then.”

“I would pay good money to have that kind of quirk,” you said with a sigh. “I would use it to get here during super boring classes.”

“That’s what I’m doing right now.”

You both laughed.

“I only managed to get here early due to being given some time to do an assignment. Because I got it done last night, I’m just relaxing a little before lunch,” you explained. You checked the time on the large clock. “Actually, it looks like I may need to go and get changed.”

Time had slipped by faster than you realised and you quickly changed back into your school uniform after giving Tsu a wave. You were actually a little disappointed to think that you had to go back to class instead of swimming.

But you weren’t expecting to see Tsu standing outside when you exited, already changed into her uniform.

“I thought you may want to sit with me and my friends today,” she offered. “They’ve got pretty cool quirks and experiences in the hero course.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why not? I can already tell that we’re going to be good friends so we may as well start now.”

You chuckled, covering your mouth to hide your slight blush. “Alright then. I’d love to.”

Ingenium

U.A. was a massive building with many corridors and even more classrooms. You had waited outside for half an hour before giving up and heading in by yourself. It hadn’t seemed like too bad of an idea at the time.

Perhaps you should have waited for your guide a little longer.

You walked the first and second floors twice, constantly looking for anybody who you recognised. The day before, you had been introduced to your class and the elected class president who promised to show you around. Except now you were wondering the corridors alone and hoping that you got to your main room on time.

When it didn’t look like that was going to happen though, you had to bite the bullet and ask somebody for help. Something you had been hoping to avoid.

Many students surrounding you looked extremely intimidating. They were all in their own groups and it would be extremely uncomfortable to approach anybody. So you chose the sweetest-looking girl that you could and made your way to her.

“Hi,” you greeted. “I’m so sorry to bother you but could you possibly tell me how to get to my class. I just transferred over and I’m completely lost.”

She was adorable with bright eyes and rosy cheeks. A massive smile appeared on her face. “Of course!” she said. “Where do you need to go?”

The other members of her small group were looking at you but none seemed too unfriendly so you relaxed a little. “I’m in 1G, the support department? My class president was meant to help me around but she just never showed up.”

At that, the tallest of the group – a guy with glasses and an extremely fancy look to his face – said, “That is unacceptable. They just left you waiting?”

You startled at the question and stared up at him. “Uh… yeah? It isn’t too bad –“

“It’s ridiculous for your class president to leave you standing alone! Their very job is to ensure that every member of the class is comfortable and knowledgeable about various aspects of the school. As class 1A’s president, I shall take you to your homeroom and discuss this with whoever is failing in their duties.”

You blinked, trying desperately to keep up with him. “If it’s not interrupting anything, then I’d definitely appreciate a guide.”

“Of course,” he said. “Follow me, I’ll take you directly there.”

You bid goodbye to the adorable girl and hurried to catch up with the guy who was practically marching his way down the hall. From behind, you could see that large pipes came from his calves. You wondered how his quirk worked.

“Thank you for this,” you said, speed walking to keep up. You gave him your name and asked for his own.

“I’m Tenya Iida,” he introduced himself. “And I’m sorry that you have been let down by your class.”

“I’m sure they were just busy.”

“Did they say that they would help show you around?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then they should have kept that in mind while planning the rest of their engagements,” he said. “There’s no excuse to cancel plans without even notifying the other person. You could have gotten in trouble for arriving to class late or not being able to show up at all.”

That was something you had been worried about. It was never a great way to start at a new school and you would have undoubtedly broken some record for getting a detention.

“Thank you for helping,” you said. “I really appreciate it. Are you in the hero course or something?”

He pushed his glasses up and nodded proudly. “I am indeed. Though I would have given you assistance without my hero training because it’s simply the right thing to do.”

Once around the next corner, he stopped so suddenly that you nearly walked into his back. “This is your classroom.”

A large ‘G’ covered a massive door. Relief washed over you and you opened your mouth to thank him but he was marching into the classroom, heading directly for your class president.

Lemillion

In all honesty, your stress was climbing to new heights. With a test looming and work taking a great deal out of you, it was like walking through tar to try and get things done. Plus there was the ever-present threat of forgetting something and causing trouble for everybody around you.

So you made your way to the library most days and found a comfortable chair to sit in. Once there, you would page through whatever book was needed and work to get as much done as possible.

It was a boring routine but it needed to be done.

Most of the people around you were ignorable, though you didn’t mean it in a cruel way. It was just that you didn’t have enough brain power to focus on them at the moment.

But eventually, you had to take a break when your mind was swimming from studies. You closed the book and took a deep breath.

“Alright, so I’m going to pop in just after she starts class, right? I’ll come through the whiteboard so she doesn’t see me at first, then I’ll hold up the egg and say ‘Wow, this class is really egg-sausting’.”

“Won’t Miss Midnight take offense to that?”

“It’s about her quirk though, not her class.”

“But what if she takes it the wrong way?”

You laughed as softly as you dared, a small snort escaping before you caught it. The group that were speaking sat at the table next to your own. They were a group of three although the one guy wasn’t really involved in the conversation – rather, a blue haired girl discussed the blond guy’s planned jokes.

“I think Midnight has a good sense of humour,” the guy was reasoning. “She’ll laugh at it. Most of the teachers understand my jokes.”

“Don’t you remember when you told Ectoplasm that he was a freak in the sheets?”

That one got a proper chuckle out of you but you managed to keep it quiet enough that they didn’t notice your eavesdropping. Their discussion was certainly lightening the mood.

The guy blushed bright red. “I didn’t think of the other ways that could have been taken,” he admitted. “I was just speaking about those ghost costumes that everybody wears during Halloween, you know… Probably should have just made the boo-berry pie joke and left it there.”

You decided against taking a sip of water, focusing on trying not to laugh at the awful puns you were hearing. Maybe the guy’s quirk was related to telling bad jokes or something.

Or maybe he just had the best worse sense of humour.

They continued speaking for some time and you found yourself giggling at almost every joke that was made. It was hard to concentrate on your work anymore but you surprisingly still got some done and enjoyed every second of it.

You were actually rather disappointed when the group stood up to leave. Two of them headed out of the main door but the blond didn’t follow. You considered glancing around to find him but decided you didn’t want to seem creepy.

And then his face appeared in the middle of your homework.

You yelped in fright and stumbled backwards, nearly falling out of your chair. The guy was half-melded with the table but he laughed and you couldn’t help but smile. His excitement was contagious.

“Hello,” he greeted, standing up and no longer phasing through any solid items. “I’m Mirio. I just wanted to say hi before we left.”

“Oh,” you said. “Um… hi.” You gave him your name and blushed, realising that your eavesdropping hadn’t gone completely unnoticed. Still, he didn’t seem to mind it so you didn’t worry too much.

“I’ll see you around,” he said as he left, waving enthusiastically the entire time.

Phantom Thief

Most days, you relished in the opportunities to speak to new heroes about support items and what they needed to better their quirks. You enjoyed discussing with them and learning about their abilities, and you knew that many in your class had similar sentiments.

After all, that was the very reason that you were studying.

These reason were why you remained confused when your classmates were busy drawing straws when you walked in. None of them bothered to even tell you what was happening, just gesturing for you to take your straw.

You grabbed the closest one in confusion and pulled it out, revealing that luck wasn’t on your side that day.

“Congratulations,” one of the girls said. “You get to talk to Monoma. All the rest of us will be able to choose whoever we want within class 1B once they arrive.”

That was when you realised.

You hadn’t ever had the opportunity to work with the loudest member of the class before and you didn’t envy many that had. The stories they shared about hinted at a mild insanity or, at the very least, obnoxiousness that went unmatched. You definitely weren’t looking forward to that for a good part of your day.

But alas, when 1B entered the room to discuss their options for support items, you made your way over to the blond and gave him your best smile. “Would you mind if I asked you about some support items that you may need?”

His grin was massive as he turned to you. “Ah, I see you’re extremely excited for the opportunity to work with such an amazing quirk, right?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

That clearly wasn’t the answer he anticipated and he faltered a little at it. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble but I don’t think there’s anything here that would suit me. My quirk works brilliantly on its own.”

“I wouldn’t say its your quirk that does it all,” you said. “Obviously it requires a talented wielder in order to use it properly.”

His eyes narrowed at the compliment and he began looking over your shoulders, clearly thinking that this was a setup of some kind. After making sure nobody was watching, he very carefully said, “I suppose you’re right. Anyway, as I was saying, I don’t need any support items right now.”

“I get that but, if you ever need something in the future, just let me know,” you said. “In the meantime, I can brainstorm some general stuff based off your quirk. You can copy things, right?”

“Obviously,” he chuckled.

You nodded and began walking away, happy that your unorthodox plan had worked in mellowing him out. It was a guess that he wouldn’t be used to praise but it worked like an absolute charm.

“Wait!” he said, suddenly appearing next to you. “How am I meant to tell you my ideas if I don’t even know your name?”

You chuckled nervously, not having expected him to care about that part of your conversation. Before you had even thought about it though, you told him your name and he smiled even wider at that, if it was even possible.

“I’ve been looking for somebody who understands how good of a quirk I have,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulders unexpectedly. “And you seem to like it quite a bit.”

“Well, yes,” you said. “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

He stepped in front of you then and you watched as your own quirk manifested itself. “I like yours also,” he said. “It suits you.” For a split second, he smiled warmly.

You smiled at that, unable to help it as his expression became considerably more normal while he was using it. “Thank you. It’s not entirely impressive when you look at all the hero course’s quirks but I like it well enough.”

The quirk disappeared and his over-the-top smile reappeared. “Obviously it isn’t as good as mine,” he scoffed. “But don’t beat yourself up about that. Almost nobody can top me.”

For a second, the change confused you but then the class 1B president made her presence behind you known. She apologised and lectured Monoma on showing off instead of focusing but you didn’t entirely hear her. Your curiosity surrounding the blond had been piqued. How much of that arrogance was just a show for his class?

[drabbles-mc]

Nightfall

Angel Reyes x F!Reader

Inspired by Day 19 of the July Prompts: fireflies

Warnings: alcohol, language, light angst

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I really had no plan going into this fic and it completely took on a mind of its own. Truth be told I’m not totally sure what this is haha. Something in me is telling me I need to continue this storyline but I have no idea what I would do with it lol. I got a little into some feelings while writing this but I hope you guys enjoy it! xo

Angel Reyes Taglist: @helli4nthus​ @angelreyesgirl​ @starrynite7114​ @queenbeered​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @sadeyesgf​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @sillygoose6969​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction​ @withmyteeth​ @encounterthepast​ @lilacyennefer​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @masterlistforimagines​ @luckyharley1903​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @black-repunzel99​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @lexondeck​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ @berniesilvas​ @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​ @amorestevens​

The air was warm still despite the fact that the sun had set a little while before. It was just you and Angel sitting on the back steps at his house. There wasn’t a whole lot to see back there, but it was nice to not be looking directly into the next row of houses. You were mirroring each other’s position—leaning forward with your forearms resting on your knees, beer bottle loosely held in your hands. Neither of you had said anything for a little bit, content to just listen to the sound of the wind blowing and the scattered noises of whatever critters were brave enough to come out at night in Angel’s edge-of-civilization neighborhood.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere so quiet,” you finally broke the silence.

He chuckled, “Oh yea?”

You nodded, taking a sip of your beer before continuing, “Moved from one apartment complex to the next with my family growing up. Traded in one city for another over and over again. It was never quiet—there was always some kind of chaos happening.”

“There’s still chaos,” he smiled and playfully bumped your shoulder with his.

You laughed, “I guess. Just, you know, different kind of chaos. It’s nice to not have chaos at home.”

Your tone was light enough but he could see the faraway look in your eyes and he knew that you were thinking about all the different homes and lives you lived growing up before you somehow landed in Santo Padre. Truthfully, he had always wondered how it came to be, but he never had the courage to ask.

“Hey,” he started, a tentative hesitation in his voice, “I was, uh, thinkin’ tha—”

His sentence was cut short by the sound of your gasp, followed by you eagerly setting your beer bottle off to the side and jumping up off the steps. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stood and followed you down off the steps, his long legs easily and quickly closing the distance that you’d put between the two of you. The dew on the short, unkept lawn slicked the bottoms of your bare feet but you didn’t care. Angel saw the smile on your face as you headed towards the tree-line and stood back to watch what you did.

“This is gonna sound stupid,” you were speaking to him despite the fact that you weren’t turning around to face him, “but I’ve never actually seen these in real life.”

“Seen what?”

“Fireflies,” you got closer to the edge of his tiny little yard as you tried to guess where the little creature was going to blink next.

“Really?” he sounded genuinely shocked.

“Something tells me that they hate the city chaos as much as I do,” you chuckled as you reached, trying to cup one in your hands and failing.

“EZ and I used to catch these little fuckers all the time when we were kids,” he found his place next to you.

“Yea?”

He nodded, “Yea. For the longest time I wanted him to smush one and use it as face paint on me but he never did.”

You laughed and shoved him lightly, “That’s awful!” you paused, “Why didn’t you just do it?”

“’Cause that’s fuckin’ gross. I don’t want dead bug all over my hands,” he chuckled.

“Just all over your face?” you raised an eyebrow, shaking your head before returning to the task at hand, “How’d you do it?”

“What?”

“Catch them.”

You could see the focus take over his features as he looked around, trying to find one, “Gotta try and see their fat little bodies when they aren’t lit up,” he brought his hands up, expertly cupping them around something that you couldn’t quite see, “Because if you try to catch them when they blink they’re already gonna be gone.”

He nodded for you to come closer as he lowered his delicately cupped hands. A smile spread across his face when he saw the excitement in your eyes. He partially opened his hands at the top so you could peek in, your eyes lighting up as you watched the tiny creature blink inside the enclosed space of his large hands.

“Wanna hold it?”

You shook your head, “I wanna catch my own.”

He smiled, nodding his head, “Alright,” he opened up his hands and it took off into the night, blinking every so often as it got farther and farther away.

Angel was content to stand back and watch you walk back and forth along the perimeter of the little plot of land that passed for his backyard. He crossed his arms over his chest, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as you tried again and again to catch one of the little bugs. Each time you came so close, but not quite close enough to succeed. He noticed that you weren’t getting frustrated, though. And, honestly, he had the feeling that you had completely tuned out the rest of the world. He could’ve been trying to talk to you the entire time and you wouldn’t have heard a single thing.

He heard the snapping of a twig underneath your foot and realized that you were halfway into the trees on your expedition. The thought of you running barefoot through the little spit of woods was entertaining, but the last thing he wanted to happen was you splitting your foot open on something. He walked over and slid his hand into yours, giving you a slight tug and bringing you back to reality.

You allowed him to back you up a little bit before picking a new target to focus on, one that hopefully wouldn’t evade you like the last few had. Your eyes had adjusted better to the darkness, and you figured this was going to be your best shot at it.

You slowly crept up on one, like the sound of you was what was going to scare it away. Angel was biting back a chuckle as he watched you crouch slightly, feet moving slowly and deliberately across his lawn. You spread your arms wide, hands cupped in the optimal bug-catching position. Your face was contorted in focus as you slowly but surely brought your hands closer together.

Connecting your hands, you gasped as you spun back around to Angel, a giant smile on your face as you ran over to him, nearly slipping and falling in the process. He chuckled as you skidded to a stop in front of him, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“I think I got it!”

“Take a look, querida,” his tone was softer than you expected it to be given your excitement in the situation.

You opened your hands just the slightest bit, and were greeted with the yellow glint of the firefly in your hands. You squealed, cupping your hands back together. You looked at Angel expectantly, “Do you have a jar I could put it in?”

He smiled, “I’ll see what I got,” he pressed a light kiss to the side of your head before walking back towards the house.

He reemerged a minute later with a mason jar and a paper plate. He held the jar out to you, “Put it in here, then I’ll flip it and set it on the plate.”

You nodded, trying very carefully to get the bug into the jar without it flying away. You quietly clapped your hands together when Angel flipped the jar over and set it on the surface of the little table on the deck. You immediately sat down, crossing your arms on the table and resting your chin on them. Angel sat down across from you, elbow propped and chin set in the palm of his hand as he watched you watch the firefly.

It flitted around the jar, not landing, but not bumping into the sides either. Angel saw the wonder in your eyes and while he found it endearing, he also felt a heaviness settling on his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. There was an innocence in your expression and your excitement that directly juxtaposed itself with all the things he knew that you were capable of, things that you probably had to go through to get to the point where you were at now.

“So what did you do?” he finally asked.

“Hm?” you raised your eyebrows but kept your gaze fixed on the bug in the jar.

“In the city. What’d you do for fun as a kid?”

Your eyes flicked over to him for a moment, trying to gauge his emotion, “Not a hell of a lot,” you answered honestly.

Your mind flashed back to tiny little one-bedroom apartments, loud neighbors, sirens blaring down the street. It was hot, but not the way it was in Santo Padre—back then the heat felt heavy, and filthy. You had nowhere to go, nothing to do but wait for something else to happen that made you all pack up and move to the next place that felt exactly like all the others.

Angel saw the tears gathering in your eyes and he knew that you didn’t notice them. He could see it in your eyes that you were somewhere else entirely as your eyes followed the bug inside the jar. He didn’t know what to say, if he was even supposed to say anything in a moment like that. He was about to reach out and rest his hand on your arm when you sat upright, shaking your head slightly as you blinked away the tears.

You could see it on his face that he was going to try having a conversation about it all, but you weren’t up for that just yet. You watched the firefly in the jar for a few more seconds before placing your hand on the bottom of the jar, curling your fingers around it. Taking a deep breath, you lifted it up and watched as the small bug found its way out and took off, leaving nothing but a trial of blips in its wake.

Something resembling a smile was tugging at the corners of your mouth as you set the jar back down. You drummed your fingers along the glass sides, lost in thought again. Angel watched as each emotion crossed your face, and he wished that he could get a glimpse of what was going on inside your head.

“It’s alright, you know,” he said, dragging you back to the present.

“What?”

“You can…you can be honest with me. If shit wasn’t good you can tell me that. You’re not gonna scare me off. I get that family can be…rough.”

You chuckled dryly, “Rough. Right.”

He could see your walls going back up and he knew that there was no getting to the bottom of it tonight. Reaching, he placed his hand on top of yours and gave it a light squeeze, “I’m glad you made it here.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was being sincere. Taking your other hand, you placed it over his, “I’m glad too.”

“If you think that catching fireflies is fun,” Angel smiled as he shook his head, “One time EZ came home with a whole fuckin’ hare.”

“A what?”

“A hare. Ears were this big I fuckin’ swear,” he held his hands dramatically far apart to indicate the size the animal’s ears has been.

You laughed, shaking your head, “I don’t believe you.”

“Ask him next time you see him,” he got up and grabbed both of your beer bottles from the step and handing yours to you before drinking from his own, “Pops was pissed.”

“I can imagine,” you smiled.

As you listened to Angel tell you other stories of antics that he and his little brother got into, you felt the heaviness of your own memories beginning to subside for the time being. It was easy to get lost in the way that Angel’s eyes crinkled slightly when he laughed and smiled, the way that he spoke with his hands. You pressed the bottle to your lips as you listened, your eyes straying every now and then to the fireflies flitting around in the background, blinking in and out of existence.