#i doubt anyone would argue against that at this point

[claggorluvrgurl]

Okay I keep thinking about it I definitely feel like early on in AU Claggor's mourning process and way of coping was just him becoming a crash out. Like I feel like he was full of anger. At the world and himself for being more passive and not sticking to his guns feeling like he should have argued more against doing that job. That maybe if he did Vi wouldn't have died. He definitely let those feelings fester inside him under the guise of trying to be strong for everyone else.

Like I imagine years before Vander really tried to get him to be more assertive. And now look what him not being assertive got him? His sister is dead and now everyone is looking at him. He got comfortable just being the right hand and following. And now he's suddenly a leader and full of worries because he's not sure if he's ever doing the right thing. Because he's a kid and now he's wondering where Vi learned to be so sure and know if she's doing things right. So now he's growing into a ball of anger and sadness and he's not sure who he can talk to. So the best outlet is to just take it out on anyone he gives him a reason .

But no doubt Vander who just lost one child is not gonna notice this self destructive behavior. He's already shaken from losing on kid . He'd be even more worried about losing Claggor . I imagine him pulling him aside to try to have a heart to heart. But the first few times nothing's getting through to him because all he's hearing is that he needs to be better. That he has to do better or he's gonna lose everything. And he internalizes a lot of his feelings putting up a brace face for his siblings. Probably going off alone to deal with people who made sly remarks that they'd hurt his family to deal with them .

The boiling point being when he gets hurt badly because he's still only one person and can't one V one a bunch a guys even if he's a big guy. He comes stumbling back home later that morning bloody and knocks something over because he doesn't have the strength to call for help.

The boy probably ends up on bed rest for weeks and has no choice but to open up. They aren't letting in leave till they know what's going on in that big brain. Because how does a calm collected and rational person start acting like this?? Why does he now think he needs to be like Vi .

Side note I feel like Claggor grew out his hair a lot during this period then cuts it shorter in the end signally the change in his state of mind.

I feel like his appearance changes as he gets worse mentally because he's taking care of himself less so his hair gets longer. But he probably cuts it more in the front so there's less hair in the front so.... Sadly mullet. My son unintentionally gives himself a mullet.

Not sure what his clothing style would look like some artist could brainstorm that if they wanna have fun

[delulujuls]

the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess | mv33

summary: one dutchman is a lot so now imagine putting two dutch teenagers in one team and tell them to not kill each other

warnings: car crash, some cussing, (they sometimes can't stay each other but at the end of the day its just them against the world)

pairing: fem!redbulldriver x max verstappen

Max and Y/N had known each other since the times when they still had scrapes on their knees and wobbly milk teeth. They met at a go-kart school - he had a helmet that was much too big for him, she wore a patched jumpsuit from her older brother. Both didn't know exactly what they were doing or what goal they were pursuing; the most important thing was to be the best - for the joy of their parents and an endless supply of sweets.

However, go-karts quickly turned into racing cars and minor races transformed into Formula 1.

All the way to the top, Max and Y/N's relationship was very dynamic. From exchanging candy together after winning the podium, through years of rivalry and mutual dislike. Despite countless arguments and mutual hatred, Y/N always sided with Max and defended him with her always smaller body. She might not like him and get angry with him to the point of turning red, but no one could tease him or raise their voice against him. This applied to both other kids in the paddock and adults, too.

Both Max, Y/N and certainly Jos Verstappen himself probably remember how after one of the collisions at the end of 2008, Max's father went into a pure rage. While young Verstappen could argue and quarrel with anyone, he lost that ability when his father intervened. Seeing tears on the flushed face of the boy, Y/N firmly clenched her fists and stood between the father and son. Jos's voice caught in his throat when the almost half his size eleven-year-old girl looked him in the eyes and said that she wouldn't allow him to shout at Max like that.

Y/N Y/L/N was fearless both on and off the track. And although Jos Verstappen never admitted it, he was impressed by both her skills and incredible courage.

After the years of intense relationship of Max and Y/N, the unbreakable friendship was born when they both joined Christian Horner's team at the age of eighteen. Red Bull had been following their actions for many years, looking forward to taking them under their wings after their promotion to Formula 1. There was no doubt here - Horner had to have these Dutch duo in his team.

The first victories began to come the moment both Y/N and Max realized that they no longer had to compete with each other. When it became clear that they were playing for one goal and that now it was two of them against nine other teams. There was no first or second driver at Red Bull. There was Y/N and Max, Max and Y/N. There were two crazy Dutch teens, who were focused only on the best possible results. Christian never showed favoritism to any of them, because he knew that by doing so he would waste all those difficult months trying to win them over.

The team's tactics were also amazing, because the race strategy was revealed only after the starting signal. There were no plans or schedules, no strict rules. Whoever had better speed and performance in a given race became the leader. This was not subject to any protest or discussion.

Y/N and Max had known each other practically their entire lives. They had been on the same team for over 6 years, and despite Christian's breakneck efforts, there were still days when there were tensions between the pair. Obviously, there is no good relationship without an argument from time to time, but when it came to a Dutch-style quarrel, few preferred to participate.

"Do you have to be so damn stubborn?"

The girl asked, taking off her helmet and balaclava.

"If I hadn't been stubborn, the fucking Haas would have overtaken us at turn eight."

He replied, unplugging his headphones. His tone was still calm, but there was a trace of irritation on his face.

"He would have overtaken us because we were giving him the tunnel, which wouldn't have happened if you had let me through."

Y/N growled. She had no intention of arguing, but the weekend had been hard and she was exhausted. Max's temperament was absolutely unhelpful in this situation.

"I didn't get an order to let you through."

Verstappen responded by wiping his face with a towel.

"You see me in the fucking mirror and you have to wait for an order? Stop talking nonsense, Max."

He sighed and tossed the towel aside.

"Or maybe you were worse than me, hm? Didn't it occur to you that maybe you just fucked up today?"

The girl clenched her jaw. She felt anger begin to rise within her.

"Out of the two of us, you're the one who fucked up today because you acted like a complete idiot!"

Max snorted and tilted his head back. The button that started the argument clicked into place.

"Do you have anything else to say?"

Y/N pressed her tongue against her teeth. She wanted to unleash hell, but she didn't have time for an idiotic argument and to waste her energy on him.

"Fuck you, Max."

The girl growled and grabbed her things, heading deeper into the garage. She didn't feel like being around him, at all.

She unzipped her jumpsuit and grabbed some water, sitting on an empty crate. The situation from the last race kept replaying in her mind, as did his words. Analyzing and cluttering her thoughts was not good, especially when another training session awaited them, and staying focused was crucial.

"I heard some Dutch swearing," Christian started, standing next to her, "Is everything okay?"

The girl just nodded.

"Max just needs to feel at home sometimes"

Christian squeezed her shoulder and patted her on the back.

"Another half an hour and you won't have to look at him for the rest of the day."

Y/N sighed and rubbed her face with her hands. Despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she was exhausted. The upcoming Grand Prix was making her sweat a lot.

After a while, she received the order that the car was ready and she could go out on the track. She prepared for the drive and took her place in the car. As she left the garage, she noticed Max, who was also getting ready to start. She showed him the middle finger, to which he, of course, did not remain in debt.

Y/N took her place at the starting line, gripping the steering wheel tightly and focusing on the starting lights. When they went out, she raced with screeching tires and sparks flying. The previous session and Max's words kept playing in her mind. What if he was right? What if she really messed up and was worse than him?

The girl cursed under her breath, aggressively tackling the turns. She wasn't worse than him, she wasn't worse than anyone. She had worked hard for her position and everything she had achieved was well-deserved.

"Max started, in a moment the pit lane will be clear of the last Alpha Tauri and we'll have a complete set. Don't rush, focus on management and dynamics,"

"Do you really think they called me the fearless Dutchess for no reason?"

"Just be careful, Y/N. It's just practice; you don't have to prove anything to anyone."

"I don't have to, but die verdomde idioot maakt me gek."

"I have no idea what you just said but please, focus on driving; everything else is not important."

The girl tightened her grip on the steering wheel and accelerated. Everything else was important because she wasn't worse than anyone. And she would prove it, even if she had to—

Darkness.

Y/N only remembered losing consciousness during the accident. She found out about falling off the track, somersaulting through the gravel and still hitting the metal barriers at 120 kilometers per hour only after the fact.

On the track, only one Red Bull car remained, but Max wasn't focused on driving; he was engrossed with the past argument he got with his friend. However, a voice from the radio snapped him back to reality.

"Y/N had an accident on turn eleven. Be careful on the surface in that area."

"What happened?"

"It's hard to say, but it didn't look good."

Max pressed harder on the gas, wanting to pass the accident site as quickly as possible and ensure the situation was under control. When he saw the wrecked car, smoke billowing and no rescue personnel nearby, Max's adrenaline froze his veins.

He parked his car at a distance from the accident, hastily releasing himself from the safety harness. When he got out of the car and saw the fire, he didn't think too much; he ran towards the friend's car, shouting her name, but there was no response.

Max fought against time. Besides him, there was no one to extinguish the fire and he had no idea what temperature the fuel in the tank was. He quickly pulled Y/N out of the wrecked car and, holding her in his arms, ran towards his own car. Hiding behind it, he laid her on the ground and, as gently as he could, removed her helmet and balaclava. He checked her pulse and fortunately, it was there. The impact force must have caused her to lose consciousness.

After some time, the appropriate services arrived at the scene and an ambulance took the girl to the hospital. Max knowing he couldn't finish the race, jumped into the ambulance and squeezed his friend's hand. He was furious with her, but now all the emotions were overshadowed by concern and fear. He hoped that the accident only looked serious and that she was just bruised. Max would never forgive himself if something happened to her, especially because of some idiotic argument that ultimately had no meaning.

Y/N woke up just before the ambulance reached the hospital. She was surprised to see paramedics around her, even more so by Max's worried face, which, as soon as their eyes met, calmed down a bit.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to look into those deceitful eyes of yours." Verstappen said, smiling and squeezing her hand.

"What happened?"

The girl asked with difficulty. Her throat hurt terribly; the hot smoke and vapors had taken their toll.

"You had an accident and you passed out. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"An accident is an understatement," one of the paramedics interjected, removing her drip from the hanger. "You did a Grosjean from Bahrain 2020."

Y/N blinked a few times, and it took her a moment to connect the dots. Judging by the man's comparison, her accident must have indeed been unpleasant.

"What's the condition of the car?"

"Just needs a wipe," Max said, smiling.

The girl rolled her eyes at her friend's words, but started coughing. She quickly put her oxygen mask back on.

"Don't worry about the car," Max said, still keeping her hand between his, "The most important thing is that you came back to us."

"At what cost? At least, being unconscious meant I didn't have to look at you."

Y/N said sarcastically, but she smiled. Everything hurt terribly, but she was grateful that, after this whole situation, she could see a familiar face. Even though it was red and sweaty from the race, it had a genuine smile and tenderness in his eyes.

"I guess she's fine, gentlemen. You can take her back to the track; she'll be able to finish the race for sure," Max said loudly, turning around. Y/N laughed quietly at his words and he returned her smile, squeezing her hand tighter.

The girl didn't realize that the fucking idiot sitting next to her was not just her friend, occasional rival and someone she sometimes wanted to tear apart. Max Verstappen, the mad Dutchman, turned into her guardian angel that evening. And she, the fearless Dutchess, started falling in love with him.

[runnning-outof-time]

Someone For Christmas - Tommy Shelby x Reader

“You’ve been a better man since she’s entered your life, Thomas,” Polly commented, a knowing look present on her face, “don’t go back to the man you were before her.”

She was the first to visit the brooding Tommy Shelby that evening, and she brought back to light all of the poor choices he’d made in the past.

“She’s done way more for you than anyone else has,” Ada said as she sat down across from her brother, “I see how she helps you every day. Only a fool would let her go, Tom.”

Tommy stared straight ahead at the Christmas tree as his sister rehashed all of the correct decisions he’d made recently…and she made sure to point out how the woman being mentioned was part of every one.

“I really like her, dad,” five year old Charles Shelby’s voice was soft as he held onto the doorknob of his father’s study. “Will she come back for Christmas?”

This time, Tommy looked at the person — the third of the day — addressing him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. “I…I, I don’t know, son,” was all he managed to get out.

“Why’d you call me here, Tommy?”

This time Tommy Shelby was the one who requested a visitor.

“I wanted to speak to you,” he answered, not realizing how business forward the sentence sounded until it left his lips. The fact that her one eyebrow quirked upward immediately after he finished speaking told him that he’d be fighting an up-hill battle.

“About?” she asked, her guard still very much up. She couldn’t believe he called her back again….she couldn’t believe she gave in and listened, again.

“I need you to come back, (Y/N),” he decided it’d be best not to dance around the subject.

“If you want to win me back, that’s not how you do it,” she blatantly responded. Tommy sighed, running a hand over his face. “Did someone put you up to this?” she then asked another question, “because it seemed like where we stood was pretty final the last time we spoke.”

“Charlie came to me,” he chose the one out of his previous three visitors who he felt would cut through her reinforcements the deepest. “He said he missed you, asked if you’d be here for Christmas. He really likes you.”

“I really like him too,” a soft smile formed on (Y/N)’s face as she thought of the boy. Tommy thought he was finally gaining some headway. “Shame his father’s a terrible man,” she couldn’t resist getting a dig in.

“(Y/N)…” Tommy locked eyes with her, a deadpanned expression present on his features.

“You brought this upon yourself,” she didn’t crumble under his gaze, instead returning it to him.

“I don’t want to argue with you,” he paused to sigh, pressing the pads of his thumb and index finger against his eyelids, “this meeting was meant to be an extension of an olive branch.”

“Tommy Shelby offering peace?” the surprise was clear in (Y/N)’s voice as her eyes widened greatly. “Well I’ll be damned…it’s a Christmas miracle!” her sarcastic comment had him sending another glare her way. She couldn’t help but smile at it…she was having fun getting under his skin.

A moment’s pause fell over the conversation as Tommy took some time to regain himself. There was no use blowing this up to more than it had to be. He knew (Y/N) was trying to push his buttons, and he had to hand it to her…she was succeeding. There was no hiding the fact that they had some things that they needed to hash out, and he had no doubt that they’d get to that soon enough. Christmas Eve wasn’t the time for that though. Right now all that he could think of was his son, and how he so desperately wanted someone other than his preoccupied father sitting beside him in front of the Christmas tree come tomorrow morning.

“Will you accept it?” he finally asked, affirming that he wanted no parts of getting into the details of the animosity that stood between them.

Now it was (Y/N)’s turn to think. She truly did love Charlie, even if his father had been getting on her nerves as of recently. What she didn’t want was this to seem like her seceding to him so quickly. If he wanted her back this time, he was going to have to work for it.

“(Y/N)?” Tommy called out, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the conversation they were having.

(Y/N) pursed her lips as she looked at him again. His eyes were already intently on her, and she knew that he wouldn’t wait much longer for her response. Thankfully she’d decided - right now they didn’t need to discuss what their future would look like…right now they needed to focus on going one day at a time.

So with that in mind, she answered him: “everyone should have someone for Christmas…” she paused, letting those words sink in for a moment before she added the second half of her statement: “and right now, that’s all you’ll have me for.”

A/N: congrats on 17k, Chi! I’m sorry that wasn’t able to write something more than these few lines. This was my take on the movie/book A Christmas Carol - I hope it came across as such.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @succubaby @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @mischievouslittlecreature @stevie75

@lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick

@dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety

@justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader

@red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

@ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

[kaivenom]

Can you do OP dilfs get jumpscared by their s/o. Like they manage to actually jumpscare them. Whether a little or a lot or how they do it is up to you

One Piece Dilfs getting jumpscared by their s/o HCS

Characters: Mihawk, Doflamingo, Crocodile, Smoker,Shanks.

A/N: lately, all you people are getting really creative with the requests and i am loving it.

Masterlist

Dracule Mihawk

You were tired of being jumpscared by him, you already asked him to do some noise when he enters a room but he still doesn't do it.

So you were determined to give him a taste of his own medicine.

He came back from a trip so he would expect to be welcomed by you but it wasn't.

You even set some previous traps to mislead him, your strategy was perfect.

When you came from behind one of the warrior monkeys (yes, you had to do a make a deal with them, it was worth it) and you jumped around him.

He didn't yell nor make a sound, but he jumped and became paralized, his eyes were wide open with fear.

"Jajaja, i got you."

He turned around with his and on the heart and heavy breaths.

"Please, don't do that again."

"Now you know how it feels like."

Donquixote Doflamingo

He challenged you and you of course accepted.

You tried multiple times and failed eveyone of them.

"I am sorry for you darling."

"Yeah, i should take this as a defeat." you said while crawling to his lap.

"Yeah, you should..."

And then the last and desperate part of your plan finally succeed, you placed a big fake spider on his shoulder and he screamed while trying to take it off.

After he realized it was your fault, he started to laugh like a maniac.

"My god, you got me there, jajjaja, you managed to scare me..."

Suddently his laugh stopped and he approached you with a mischiveous smile.

"Now you will get your prize, or more like your punishment."

Sr. Crocodile

It was a prank that you decided to do while he was on the office, more like a little surprise.

You made the secretary move the box in which you were to Crocodile's office.

When you heard him enter you came out with a confetti gun, you wanted to be like those movie girls.

Instead he put his hand on his heart and started to say a lot of swear words, you never saw him like that.

"Out."

You couldn't argue and went out of his office, really sad.

A couple of minutes later he went to your side and maked a fuss to you, then he kissed you for trying to surprise him.

Smoker

He doesn't expect you to jumpscare him so it's really easy in fact.

You on your part, wanted to do scare him, no doubt about it.

Since he got a little bratty with you on work, you decided to get payback.

You set the vibe of the house, really creepy and dark, of course he isn't scared at first.

Then you decided to go on with the extreme part of it, the jumpscares.

A fake snake hanging on the door to mislead him and then you with a mask.

You appeared behind him and when he saw you, he yelled something between a scream and a yell and formed a smoke cloud around you.

"Son of a b... honey?" you were slamed against the wall and your whole body hurt.

"This happens to you for doing stupid and crazy ideas..." he exhaled, "i am so sorry for hitting you."

"At least we know your reflexes are on point." he kissed the pain away.

Akagami Shanks

You are in fact, really noiseless so when you two first moved in together, you tried to have than in mind.

Always knocking before entering or simplu doing noises with your foot to not scare anyone on the ship.

But after a week, you were on the cellar of the ship, doing some inventory, nothing to much.

Shanks entered, probably to open a bottle.

He started to wander around the shelves, you didn't notice his pressence at first.

Then you do, cause he is the noisy one, and went to meet him.

You thought that it would be cute to hug him from behind, but...

"Oh my god, a ghost on the ship!!!!" he got scared of your touch, jumped, screamed that and almost fainted.

You don't know how that happened since he had haki, but he almost had a hear attack and you felt really bad.

[yougavememyopia]

OH MY GOD UR MASOCHIST YAN DRIVES ME INSANE TOO oh my god oh my godddd OOOOHHHHH MY GODDDD GFRRRGAVBNCJJSJKDKDOAODOOAKAKNFNHCHUEOROGLKSJSJHFJDODOAODI

wouldn’t it be so funny to imagine if crybaby yan and masochist yan had to fight over you somehow?? maybe a 3 roommate situation HAHA like masochist yan is so confident at flirting but you’re easily annoyed by him versus crybaby who struggles asserting himself but you have a soft spot for…. IM GOING CRAZYYUYYYYUSUDIAJOAOO

They would not get along.

Masochist yandere is mean to anyone who isn't you. He wants to isolate you as much as possible so he can have all your attention for himself and himself only. He wants to get rid of Crybaby yan as fast as possible. Get him evicted and then turn his room into a "game" room. But he can't. You actually like that pathetic mess for some reason he can't understand.

His go-to manipulation tactic is making you exhausted to resist. Constantly pleading. Talking your ear off so you have to agree with what he says. Still, you somehow remain resilient in your decision. No matter how much he tries to sugarcoat his words like always, or argue how Crybaby yan is literally a useless waste of space. You don't budge. Much to his demise, you threaten to kick him out instead.

Anytime Masochist yan did something that bothered his sensitive roommate, he'd get a scolding. Crybaby yan would aggregate his actions, just to get more of your pity. Burying his face into your neck and putting his legs around your waist. You'd shush him and pet his head, glaring at the guy who made him cry. He glares at you like, "Seriously, you're gonna take his side?"

If you start to doubt Crybaby yan, he knew exactly how to guilt-trip you. Puppy eyes. Pouty lips. Tears easily rolling down his cheeks. The perfect victim with his helplessness act.

As much as Masochist yan actually loves when you yell at him and get all angry, he doesn't like how the other boy was getting most of your time. He doesn't want to be just an annoying shit you bicker with. He also wants your affection— your hugs and headpats— his jealousy really obvious.

"So when I ask to cuddle, it's annoying. When he does it, it's adorable? That's not fair.... Augh! Look what you did. You made me cry! Is that what you wanted? Huh? Is that what you're into, you perv?"

He'd plop down beside you on your shared couch and grumpily look to the side. His whines stopping. You slowly thread your fingers through his hair like the other yandere lying on your lap. And just like that, he melts into you like a pudding. Shamelessly whimpering with his eyes closed. Brows furrow as he hugs your side tight. Eventually, they both learn to get along.

Unlike Crybaby yan—who doesn't openly talk about his feelings (unless it's saying how he doesn't want you to ever leave)—Masochist yan tells you exactly what he thinks. Even if not appropriate. He values honesty, so to him, being a tattletale is justified.

When you come home from a long day, Masochist yan is quick to give you a report of what you missed before you could even step inside.

Standing on his tippy toes to look taller and crossing his arms while he loudly began to speak. "The little creep you love so much sneaks into your room and smells your dirty laundry! Isn't he so gross? You're disgusted, right?"

Poor Crybaby yan looks paler than usual as he looks away from you with teary eyes. Unable to face you, dreading your reaction. Anger causes him to finally speak back against his irritating peer. "W-well, at least I don't s-steal the clothes like you."

"I don't steal, I burrow!" Masochist yan argues back, knowing well he doesn't have an actual point. "And I asked before I took something."

"A-are you serious? You ran away with it before you could get denied—"

"—Boys, boys, boys. That's enough!" You walk to stand between them abruptly. Arms on either shoulders, feeling their muscles tense up. "You're both in a lot of trouble, y'know..."

They glance at each other for a moment, then at you. Your playful words rousing sinful thoughts for one and petrified ideas for another. Different kind of scenerios of how you could punish them rushing in their mind. A playful hum and a scared squeak when you tug their arms and push them inside.

-----‐-------------------------------------------------------------

I WAS LITERALLY IMAGINING THE SAME THING!!!! LIKE THE EXACT. SAME. THOUGHT. Thank you for pulling this idea out of its dark bottomless pit~

Now, let's turn it into smut.

[l-egionaire]

My Warrior!Penelope AU: Telemachus

Since Odysseus is home and I don't see the thing with the suitors happening in my version of the au, what ends up going on with Telemachus? Well, with his father being slowly poisoned by treacherous servants, I imagine him taking over as man of the house. His father is becoming so weak and sickly that he starts taking on more and more of his responsibilities, meeting with court, talking with the townspeople, performing diplomatic and so on. It's hard, and stressful. Not only do the more senior members of his father's court look at him like a child trying to play king, but he also has to constantly check in on and try to take care of his ailing father and secretly fearing that he'll lose another parent. It's hard on him and he feels like he doesn't have anyone to help....until one day, while trying to argue a trade negotiation, the members of court around him seem to freeze.

"Wha-whats going on?

"That'd be me."

He turns to see Athena standing next to his chair.

"What's happening? Is time....frozen?"

"Nope. I just sped up your thoughts. Gave you a little extra time to think."

"Whoa....cool!"

Athen chuckles.

"Lets have a little chat..."

Soon, Athena is there acting as both his friend and advisor, teaching him about diplomacy, treaties, negotiation, and politics, as well as training him in the art of battle, now that her warrior of the mind was....unwell. However, she offered him other aid as well. She explained her suspicions about his father being poisoned and suggested Telemachus cook his meals in secret to test it. Sure enough, once he stops eating the food given by the servants, he begins to slowly recover.

Under Telemachus's watch, Ithaca and Odysseus grow stronger. But still his council doubts his abilities, during one meeting even getting into a fiercesome shouting match with him over a deal he made to ask another kingdom for help protecting them with so many of their soldiers gone. It gets to the point that they're shouting him down, and he's about ready to rip his hair out...when once again, time slows down around him. But this felt different than Athena's quick thought. Hers seemed to fill the air with a calm, cooling aura that made his thoughts flow smoother. This was hot, humid and filled his mind with searing rage.

"Are you just going to let them talk to you like that all day?"

He looks to his side, in the opposite spot to where Athena would usually appear, and saw a tall, muscular figure in full armor and blood red cape.

Telemachus's eyes widened.

"Ares...."

The war god looked down at him with blazing red eyes.

"You are the leader. ACT like it. Don't allow them to simply push you around like this."

Telemachus then turned back to his council. He grit his teeth and, as time returned back to its usual pace, slammed both fists against the meeting table.

"ENOUGH! While I understand your concerns, this is MY decision! And I won't have you questioning it!"

That made them quiet down and Telemachus could swear he heard low, rumbling laughter.

After the meeting, Ares appears to him in his room, Athena also there glaring at him.

"Why are you here?"

"To assist the young prince, of course."

"I'm ALREADY helping him!"

"Can a king not have more than one counsel? Can a warrior not have more than one master? Besides, I certainly was more help today than you were."

Athena growls and raises her spear but Telemachus steps between them.

"No! He's right. I think....I think he can help me. In a different way then you, I mean."

Athen grimaces while Ares give her a smug smile.

"Ugh...Fine..."

And from that day, Telemachus splits his time between being trained by the two gods. Athena teaches him battle strategies and techniques, Ares gives him physical training and Exercise. Athena teaches him about reading treaties and Ares takes him to hunt and skin a boar. Athena trains him in the buisness of diplomacy and bridge building and Ares coaches him on the basics of war and battle. Strangely, while both gods talk poorly of the other, it's not uncommon for one of them to watch while he trains with the other.

One day, both watch from a balcony as he works with a spear against a training dummy.

"......He's a good lad.....he'll grow strong. Grow well."

"Yes, I'm sure he will......and I have to imagine he'd grow better with his MOTHER."

"........."

"Ares, it's been TWENTY YEARS. WHERE is Penlope?

".......She......she accured the wrath of two of the gods. And Father, saw fit to...to punish her...."

"What? Punish her how?"

"Well, first he.....he.....you know how father is with women...."

Athena's eyes widen.

". Oh, Odysseus is going to KILL him."

"Father is king of the gods."

"And Odysseus will still find a way to, for putting his hands on his wife."

Ares can't help letting out a chuckle.

"What did he do after that?"

"He....saw fit to banish her to the Land of the Giants."

"The Land of-She could be KILLED! Ares, why haven't you DONE something!? Why haven't you talked to him or tried to help her!?

"YOU THINK I WOULDN'T IF I COULD!? It is because of my blessing alone that Dionysus and Father did not SLAY her! It's the sole reason she still lives! I told her the same. And she.....she asked me to watch over the boy. Make sure HE stays safe."

".....There really isn't ANYTHING you can do?"

"You KNOW how our father is Athena. Besides, this punishment comes from Apollo. His favored son. And I'm.....I'm not......he won't listen to me."

"....But he might listen to US."

Ares looks at her.

"....You really think it would change anything?:

"I think it woud at least show we're serious. We NEVER agree on anything.

"...Why would you help me?"

"Because Telemachus needs his mother, and Odysseus needs his wife back. And i promised them both that if I could, I would do everything in my power to bring her back to them.

"....Very well sister."

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"YOU'RE PLAYING WITH FIRE, LITTLE ONE"

I love this story so much, I think is one of the bests I've written in my whole life (I've been writting since 2018)

I mainly wrote this because (I need Sergei to fuck me so hard I can even be able to walk for a week) I love Kraven so much

I hope you like it!

The hunter knew he was being sought.

He could smell the police dogs running deep into the woods looking for his scent. His father, despite being a bastard, had taught him well.

He hid his trail easily, and slipped with the speed of a panther and the stealth of a fox through the trees.

He made his way through the woods until he reached a thick area, where the bushes were thicker. He hid there and waited for the dogs to go in the opposite direction. He had stuck an arrow with his blood into a distant tree, so that the animals would change course and follow the decoy instead of him.

He felt the vibration of their paws against the ground as they ran to where he had left the arrow. The prison guards rushed to follow the dogs, at which point the hunter took advantage to come out of hiding.

He reached for his bow. She placed an arrow on the string and prepared to shoot at the slightest noise out of the ordinary. Thanks to her heightened sense of hearing she could hear the gurgling of water in a nearby river. She walked there, paying attention to her surroundings.

If there was a river there, that meant there were animals nearby. She didn't feel particularly hungry, but she had to hunt anyway to have something to eat in the coming days. She was on the run, she couldn't make any mistakes. Any mistake would cause her position to be discovered, and she wasn't willing to return to that prison.

She would never be locked up again

Never again

She walked for ten long minutes until she made her way between two trees. In front of her was the river she had heard before. She approached slowly, paying attention to her surroundings. The river was in a clearing, an open place where she could easily be attacked. She held the bow in her hands, while she leaned down and drank a long drink of water.

He splashed some more on his face, cooling his hair as well. When he finished he shook his head to get rid of the excess water, like dogs did.

That was when he heard it, a cracking of branches behind his back. He turned quickly with the arrow ready to be fired, but stopped when he saw her.

A woman held a wicker basket in her hands. She watched him for a moment with curiosity reflected in her dark eyes. He saw no fear in her expression, only respect and something else he couldn't identify.

She was probably wondering who he was and what he was doing in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night. He slowly lowered the weapon, although he remained alert just in case. He didn't trust anyone, even if that someone was a girl who looked like she had never broken a plate in her entire life.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Who are you?"

-My name is Ilia, I live here - she answered overwhelmed, shaking her head before pointing to a place in front of them hidden behind the trees - I mean, my house is there - he explained - it's not far - he added - look, I don't know who you are or what happened to you, but whatever it is, I can help you

-I don't need your help - he argued seriously - I can take care of myself

-I have no doubt that's true - she murmured, staring at him - even so, I won't leave you here alone in the middle of the forest - she nodded - follow me

She started walking, but he didn't move. He watched her for a few seconds without saying anything. She turned to him again.

-It won't be long before it gets completely dark - she said - and when that happens, the wolves come out to hunt - she shrugged - they wouldn't do anything to you, but they would devour me at the first opportunity. I don't feel like dying today, honestly

"I wouldn't let them get close to you," he said very seriously, holding her gaze. "They'd have to kill me first."

"That's very kind of you," she admitted, while her cheeks were blushing. Sergei didn't know if it was because of him or because of the cold that was beginning to be felt in the air.

The hunter followed her closely, covering her back. He didn't know why, but ever since he had seen her, he felt the strong need to protect her. He shook his head to push those thoughts away. She slipped into the gap between two trees, and he followed her.

The landscape in front of him was unlike anything he had ever seen before. A small wooden house stood in front of them. He thought it was funny that there was an entrance door, since only she lived there. Still, he thought it was a nice detail, as if somehow the house was complete that way.

A small garden full of white and red flowers covered the ground in front of them. They walked down the narrow path in the middle. He gently pushed the door open and entered. He motioned for her to do the same.

He ducked his head so as not to bump into the wooden doorway. The house was simple, a small home with everything necessary for living. Ilia walked over to the fireplace and threw in several logs that were lying next to it to rekindle the fire. She turned to look at him as she used a poker to stir the embers.

-You can leave your stuff there if you want -she pointed to a spot next to the door-

He nodded, leaving his fur coat and bow leaning against the wall. He felt his thigh, making sure his knife was still there. He walked over to her slowly, looking at the decor.

"You have a very cozy house," he said, and she gave a shy smile.

"Thank you," she said. "It's not luxurious, but I have everything I need." She put down the poker and wiped the ash on the knees of the jeans she was wearing. "I'm going to make some hot chocolate. I'm freezing," she said, rubbing her hands together to warm up. "Do you want one?"

The hunter couldn't remember the last time someone treated him so kindly

Like a human being

He didn't feel like it, but before he could think about it any longer, he found himself nodding slowly as he said:

"I could use something warm," he smiled gratefully.

She nodded and walked to the kitchen. The space between the living room and the kitchen was open, so he could see her preparing the chocolate. She took a bottle of milk out of the fridge and poured some into a saucepan.

She placed it on the fire and waited a few seconds before adding the ounces of chocolate. Then she stirred the contents with a wooden spoon. The smell of chocolate filled the air. He closed his eyes and breathed in the aroma. It had been a long time since he had smelled such homely smells.

He watched as she stopped stirring and put a lid on the saucepan. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail with the help of a rubber band she wore on her wrist. The skin of her neck was exposed to him. Unable to help himself, his gaze slid over her, wondering how it was possible for someone to look so pure and attractive at the same time.

As if she had felt his gaze, she turned around. Their gazes met for a moment, before she broke eye contact.

"It need to rest a little," she said to somehow fill the silence between them.

He nodded, as his gaze returned to the photographs that were placed on the fireplace. He noticed that most of them were of the forest they were in, although there were some of a city he didn't recognize. He reached out to see one in which a horse could be seen running.

-"Did you take it?" -he asked, showing it to her. She nodded as she approached with her arms crossed over her chest-

-Yes -she confirmed, her cheeks turning red again, a gesture that the hunter found endearing- I'm passionate about photography -she confessed- sometimes when night falls I like to go out and try to photograph some wild animal -she looked up at him- that's what I was doing when you found me -she pointed at the wicker basket that was now on the kitchen counter- I always carry some bait with me to attract them -she laughed nervously- it must be that they don't like this meat, because none of them has ever come close

-It depends on the animal you want to attract, the bait is different -he explained, looking at her out of the corner of his eye- What animal do you want to photograph?

-A wolf -he answered quickly- they terrify me, but I think that getting to photograph one of them would be like having overcome that fear, you know? -she probed, he nodded understanding what she meant-

-I could help you -she smiled half-sidedly- I'm good with animals, especially wild ones

-Aren't you afraid of them? -she asked looking at him curiously-

-No -she answered- we could say that I have a kind of gift

-I would like not to be afraid of them -she murmured- it would be nice to photograph them without having to worry about them ripping off my arm

-Fear is a neurological impulse in the brain that helps keep the brain tense and alert -he explained- it doesn't have to be negative if you don't want it to be -he whispered- you will learn to control it -he said- I will teach you

-Okay -she nodded, losing herself for a moment in his blue eyes, until she remembered the pot she had on the stove- I should take out the…

-Of course -he stammered as he sat down again on the sofa next to the fireplace-

He saw her pour the liquid into two cups. She handed him hers and sat down on the small armchair opposite him. He was surprised that she didn't sit next to him. Since they had entered the house, it had been clear to him that she wasn't too given to physical contact.

He wouldn't push her, he wasn't that kind of man. She took a sip of the chocolate, the heat of the liquid went down her throat. He smiled as he leaned back, resting his head against the cushions for a moment.

"It's very good," he replied, raising his head again to look at her.

"Thank you," he smiled. "The recipe is from my mother. The trick is to leave it on the fire for two minutes. That way the flavor is more intense."

The hunter wondered where his mother was and why she wasn't there with her, but it wasn't his business, so he didn't say anything. He watched her intently for a moment before speaking.

"May I ask you how did you end up here?

“You mean living in the middle of the forest?” she asked, he nodded. “Big cities overwhelm me, so I thought this would be the best for me.” She took another sip from her cup. “I prefer to be here and go shopping in the nearest small town whenever I need to.” He nodded.

Silence fell over them again before she broke it.

“And you?” she asked. “What were you doing in the middle of the forest at this hour?”

“Hunting,” she said. It wasn't really a lie, she was just embellishing the truth a bit. “It's what I do.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” she said. “But don't hunters usually hunt with hunting rifles, instead of with bows and arrows?”

-I prefer to do it the traditional way - he smiled amused at her curious expression - those modern weapons can jam and fail - he fixed his gaze on her, as if she were a predator cornering its prey - that will never happen to the bow

-You talk as if you were much older than you look - she commented making him smile -

"That's because I'm much older than you" he thought before taking a last sip of his chocolate.

-Maybe I am - he challenged her, leaving the insinuation in the air - Can I ask… why you let me into your house?

-What do you mean?

-Well, I'm an unknown person that you found in the middle of the forest in the middle of the night - he sketched an amused smile - Do you do that with all men?

-You're the first - he murmured, his cheeks turning red-

-Repeat that - he ordered, fixing his blue gaze on her, an almost animal growl stuck in his throat-

-I say that you are the first man I have let into my house - she whispered, watching as he put the cup aside to rest his elbows on his knees, leaning forward-

-Why? - he questioned - Why have you let me disturb your peace like this?

-You're not disturbing anything - he answered with a small mouth, the blush on his cheeks intensifying when he added - the truth is that I enjoy your company

-You're playing with fire, little one - he muttered, drilling into her with his gaze - Are you willing to burn yourself?

-I don't know - his eyes did not leave hers - And you?

The hunter slowly got up from the sofa and walked to where she was. He held her chin between his index and middle finger, making her look up. A broken sigh left her lips at the unexpectedness of the action.

"So much time here alone in the middle of the forest…" he whispered as he ran his thumb along her lower lip. "When was the last time someone made you feel good?"

"I don't remember," he admitted under her watchful gaze.

"Maybe I can…" he sat down slowly beside her, "refresh your memory."

He held her cheek gently, his gaze connecting with hers immediately, as if he were silently asking her permission. He didn't need to say it out loud, when his gaze lowered to her mouth, he knew that she also wanted it to happen as much as he did.

The kiss was slow and deliberate at first, Ilia's lips slowly getting used to his movements, following his rhythm. As time passed, she became more intense. The hunter took her lower lip between his teeth and tugged at it, causing her to gasp against his mouth.

Ilia felt him push her body back, slowly knocking her down onto the couch cushions. He pulled away for a moment. Her eyes were dark with desire, her lips were flushed and her hair was disheveled, proof that this had only just begun.

He remembered how pure and virginal she had seemed the first time he saw her and now there she was, about to spread her legs for him.

Only for him.

-I'll try to go slow, be gentle -he growled, looking down at her mouth again- I don't know if I can do it

-I don't want you to be gentle -she replied, pulling on the straps of his suit to get him closer- you're not going to break me

-Sergei -she murmured, finally introducing herself-

-Sergei -she repeated this- I… -she blushed- I need you -she breathed in raggedly- please

-Don't beg, little one -he smiled- let me give you what you want

Little by little, their clothes disappeared until they were on top of each other as God brought them into the world. Their eyes locked for a moment, before he buried his head in the side of her neck. He kissed the place where her pulse was beating, drawing a ragged sigh from her, while his scent filled her nose.

-You're so ready for me… -he murmured, kissing the spot between her breasts- and I haven't even touched you yet… -he whispered, resting the palm of his hand on her lower belly, not touching her where she needed it most- I want to taste you -he growled, opening her legs, leaving her completely exposed to him- Will you let me? -he asked, momentarily raising his gaze-

-Yes -she gasped, feeling his breath against her swollen and needy center- please…

Without warning, he lowered his head. His tongue moved over her folds with the mastery of someone who was obviously done that before.

Ilia moaned loudly as she arched her back, pressing herself against his mouth.

She brought her hands to his curly hair when he found her clit. She pulled on it just as she had done on her lip before, as if she were a boar snatching the last piece of flesh from one of its prey with its teeth.

The pressure in her lower abdomen only grew. A gasp/sigh came from between her lips.

"Sergei…" she warned, "I'm…" she moaned, "very close."

She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a scream. He saw her and pulled away for a moment to gently remove her hand from his lips.

-Don't do that, I want to hear you - she smiled half-way - no one will hear you scream here, darling

She lowered her head again, this time her movements were faster and more disordered, causing her to slowly fall closer to the abyss.

-Shit, Sergei! - she screamed, she felt his smile against her skin -

-That's it baby, give it all to me - he murmured -

A few seconds later he unloaded hard on her tongue, of course he then took care of cleaning the mess with his lips. When she had caught her breath, without warning she sat on him, impaling herself on his cock.

Sergei's eyes opened wide in surprise at the suddenness of her action, although he gradually forgot about it when he noticed her still slippery against his member.

-Darling - he mumbled, looking at her firmly - What are you doing?

-You haven't cum yet -she replied, holding her gaze- and I thought it would be nice to reward you for giving me the best orgasm of my life

He smiled, sitting up slowly, the change in position making them both moan.

-So the best, mhm? -he murmured, moving his hips up, hitting her walls- let's see if I can give you the second

[lilac-5ky]

Holed Up (Husband!Toji x Fem!Reader)

mini kinktober tribute: stuck in a wall/hole

plot: you should've known that asking Toji to help you out of a hole would lead him inside another—or that time you got stuck in the dog house and he bailed on you for KFC.

tags: MDNI, stuck in a wall/hole, pet play (kinda), breeding, doggy style, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), spanking, pet names (bitch, baby), established relationship, crack plot, unsolicited kfc orders, i promise toji loves reader, he's just joking guys.

wc: 2.2k

Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist | AO3

“Whatcha doing?”

Sarcasm rolls from your husband’s tongue as he stares down at you. Back arched, knees bent, and head encased by wooden planks. Not the most flattering position to be found in, especially with how the light autumn breeze blows at your dress and parts its layers, opening a window to the pink panties of your choice.

His question feels excessive. He knows exactly what you are doing. It was only this morning that you asked him to dig poor ol’ Mister Stinky’s remains from the dog house and he claimed he’d rather buy his son a replacement. No arguing there, but should Megumi see what became of his favored stuffed animal—fuzzy entrails gutted out of the frog’s shredded belly in a path initiating from his bedroom—he’ll be having nightmares for weeks to come.

Besides, you doubt synthetic is the kind of fiber your vet prescribed for your puppy's diet.

“What you should’ve done instead.” You finally spit out, contempt over what Toji’s long fingers could’ve accomplished without him needing to stick half his body into a hole like your, admittedly, dumbass self did.

“For thirty minutes straight? Damn, seems I overestimated ya.”

Even though your view of him is limited to a pair of overworn black slippers, you can vividly picture his scarred lips pulling over his teeth in another of his complacent smirks that scream I told you so.

“Don’t have anything better to do than time me?”

“Nah,” Toji drawls. “Grew tired of waiting on ya, so I thought I’d come see how it’s going.”

“It’s going great!” You lie through your teeth. Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes could see how non-great this is going. “Anything else you need?”

“Well it is noon.” He points out.

“And?”

“And my darling wife’s out ‘ere, rolling in the mud when she should be having lunch with me.”

A snort flares in your nostrils. He is unbelievable.

“What a cute way of letting me know you’re hungry, Toji. You know, if you’d actually helped, I would’ve had the time to set the table and give Mister Stinky a proper burial, but I can’t do both at the same time, can I?”

“Mhm, so how ‘bout we help each other?” He suggests, undeterred. “I get your ass out, and you cook us somethin’ tasty real quick.”

“Wh-who said I was stuck? I can get out whenever I want.”

“Really, huh? What keeps ya from getting out this instant, then?”

“I don’t want to.” You answer wryly. “I like it here. It’s quiet, and I could use some time for myself.”

“In the dog house.” His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth. He’s not buying an ounce of what you’re selling. “C’mon, don’t be stubborn. You’ll end up reeking of dung if ya stay here a minute longer. Lemme give ya a hand.”

You know that accepting his help comes at the exorbitant price of utter humiliation, but he’s got a point. Last night’s downpour emanates strongly from the saturated wood, a dizzying smell that turns overwhelming when combined with the strong odor of what you sincerely hope is not piss. Your knees are on the verge of collapsing, and there’s more dirt in your nails than if you dug a grave barehanded. Right now, a day in the bathtub seems like a panacea for your every issue.

Almost.

Kissing your teeth, you resign with a long-drawn sigh that’s barely audible over the rumble in your stomach. You shouldn’t have skipped breakfast.

A moment passes before you hear the crunch of leaves as they rustle beneath his feet; see a second pair of knees take place between your own. Then it’s two hands gripping at your hips, and eventually, a face—your husband’s handsome face that beams with a smug smile and eyes of mischief.

“Lookin’ good, sweetheart.” He greets, though you doubt he sees your face with all the hair that’s curtaining over your eyes while you hang upside down.

“What are you doing, Toji?” You recycle his question in an aggravated tone that fizzles out the second you feel his thumb press against your panties and tug the fabric to the side.

“Nothin’. Just curbing my hunger.” His finger teasingly glides across your nether lips and lands at your clit, while a palm large enough to envelope both your ass and cunt kneads at the tender flesh he’s offered. “Fridge’s empty, so.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“‘m not laughing, but c’mon. You hafta admit it’s pretty damn funny.” Warm air wafts from Toji’s mouth as he inches closer to your thighs. “Y’always whine when I fuck you from behind, but now? Look at you. Bent on all four like a real bitch.”

“T-Toji!”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he slides two fingers in your hole, languidly scissoring them in and out until there’s enough slick to lather your clit with. He circles around the nub while his fingers prod deeper inside, the icy touch of his wedding band clashing with the heat that sparks through your body when he bottoms out. A smothered moan gains echo as it bounces off the walls and into his ears.

“Such a well-trained pup,” Toji praises, retrieving his palm to lick his fingers. “Might win yourself a collar at this rate.”

You bite back your tongue before it can react to his backhanded comment, reminding yourself that you’re still outside, right where your neighbors can peek over the white picket fence for a quick hello and catch you slutting yourself out on your husband’s fingers.

“Can’t we continue this inside? Mrs. Honda is right next door, and M-Megumi—” You stutter when his palm returns to your body, its twin joining in spreading your cheeks further apart.

“Kid’s at school for another hour,” Toji mumbles, his hot tongue parting your folds with a long stroke that has your knees buckling. “So fuckin’ good,” he groans, his nose buried between your two holes while he lazily laps at your juices. “That sweet cunt is the reason why I married ya.”

You keen to his touch, hips bucking into his mouth, and walls clenching for more. “Only reason?”

“Nah. Consider that tight little ass as the second.”

His fingers burrow into the supple skin to squeeze at it, only lifting to deliver playful smacks that cause your ass to jiggle against his face. He growls into your pussy, mouthing all sorts of filth that gets drowned by your moans. It feels so good when he eats you out—it always does—but the probability of being caught in such a compromising position adds to the excitement.

The hand that’s trapped with you inside your pet’s house scratches at the wood, while the other rakes at the soil for grounding. Your orgasm creeps up on you, turning your vision blurry and tinting the darkness of space with colored specks. You are so close; all he needs to do is keep swirling at your clit, swallowing the entire bundle of nerves in his mouth, and sucking hard until—

“Ah, right.” He stops, words slurring from the threads of saliva that link his mouth with your cunt. “You said ya wanted time with yourself.”

Anger washes over you in place of the orgasm you were robbed of, the pleasurable fireworks traded for the obnoxious red alarm that goes off in your brain. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right fucking now, the only lunch you’ll be seeing is KFC buckets for the rest of your life!”

A low chuckle falls flat from his lips. “Three. I love that snappy mouth ‘f yours.”

In an attempt to meet his eyes, you duck between your legs. Your hair mops the floor as you watch him pull down his pants and boxers, the last thing you see before blood shoots up in your head being the hard cock that dangles out of reach. The heat in your stomach stirs at the sight, anticipation building rapidly when you feel him run the reddened tip between your puffy folds.

“Sure you don’t want it here?” Toji taps his cock against your ass hole and your entire body jolts in response, a loud Toji amusing rather than deterring him. “A’right, a’right! Gotcha the first time.”

His profound dream of burying himself nine inches deep into your ass crumbles as he aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy. You brace yourself, patiently awaiting that initial sting that never goes away; no matter how many times he fucks you or how diligently he preps you, the thickness of his girth always threatens to split you in half.

But now he’s stalling, a complacent smile sitting on his lips while he contemplates your silence. “Bet you’re red as a beet in there, aren’t ya?”

He plunges himself inside before you are given the chance to either prove or disprove him, a silent scream punched from your throat as his cock rams straight into your g-spot. He huffs a deep breath, barely keeping a groan bottled, when he feels your walls tighten around him. It’s suffocating. Wet, and tight—a little similar to what being stuck in that small space feels like for you, but infinitely more pleasurable for him.

"Mm, such a sloppy little cunt. Got yourself stuck in there for this, didn't ya?"

His fingers latch onto your hips, bruising you as his nails dig meanly into your skin. He drags his cock halfway out of your cunt only to snap his hips back in, picking up a pace that ramps up over time. His quick thrusts fuck you further into that hole, your tits bouncing and slapping against the hard wooden planks while your dress rides higher to expose your back.

Toji bends your body into an arch, a heavy palm situated on your stomach until you’re able to hold the position on your own.

“Like it when your husband fucks ya like a bitch?” He grunts, catching the hand that’s squirming on the grass beside him and twisting it behind your back. “Pounded in broad daylight f'everyone to see how dumb you get over my dick, huh?"

Your whimpers don’t go unnoticed by him. He laughs at the high pitch your voice has assumed, babbling his name an incomprehensible amount of times that exceeds the frequency with which his swollen cock head kisses your pulsing core. You can't think enough to reply, and you can't bring yourself to ask him to stop.

He smacks your ass loud enough for you to whine, alerting every last neighbor in the block to what is happening in their quaint suburban neighborhood. “Answer me.”

“Yes, Toji—fuck, love how big it feels.” Your thoughts stem from your pussy without being filtered by your brain. All your body knows is how badly it needs to be pushed over the edge, disregarding the scornful looks you’ll definitely be receiving at the next neighborhood watch assembly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Toji smacks your ass again, softer this time—or so it feels because of your numbing skin. “I asked, Who owns this pussy, mm?”

“That’s not what you asked at all!” Your talking back earns you a third spank. You realize you’ve got no agency of your own.

“Won’t ask again. Who. Owns. This. Pussy?” He punctuates each word with a thrust sharper than the one before, his cock twitching when he hears you screaming your answer at the top of your lungs.

“You do, T-Toji. My pussy is yours—ngh!”

“And who’s bitch are you, baby?”

“Your bitch!” You answer willingly, your mind clouded, and your logic dulled. “Fuck, Toji, you know I’m all yours.”

“Damn right, y’are.” He hums in response, hunching over your body to rub tight circles around your clit, jerking the nub up and down, round and round.

You’re almost there, and when he asks you whether you wanna be bred like one, the tension in your gut finally snaps, eyes involuntary crossing as white waves of pleasure overtake you.

He fucks you through your high at an animalistic pace, the thought of filling your belly with a baby that’s half his and half yours flooding his brain before your answer registers, his cum spilling deep within your pussy with a few sloppy pumps that squelch to the sound of your mixed fluids.

His moans mingle with yours, the rough sound of his voice raising goosebumps from where he kisses your back to the resounding ringing in your ears. He wraps his arms around you almost tenderly, peppering your back with kisses that almost convince you he’ll finally pull you out of that miserable hell hole but that’s not his intention. It never was.

A final smack meets with your ass right before he rolls his pants back up and walks toward the house, undisturbed by the screams that follow close on his trail.

“You said you’d get me out of here!” Your fist hits the ground, finges clenching around a tuft of grass blades that you violently root out.

“And you said you can get out whenever ya want. That you needed time for yourself, ‘member?”

“I didn’t mean that!” You object, your tone too squeaky to be taken seriously. “Toji, you’d better help me or else—”

“Or else what? KFC until I die?” He snorts. “Relax, I’ll come back before Megumi gets ‘ere.” You hear his phone buzzing as he—presumably—punches something in his search bar. Hot wings don’t sound too bad; he whispers for himself to hear, speaking up only when he asks you if you want him to order you a twister wrap or something before he closes his order.

a/n: the episode excited me too much, apologies. i was gonna post this later asdfghjkl but toji is back and we cum.

[baelarys]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫...𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 Pt2

Aemond targaryen X reader targaryen

Word recount: 2087

Warning: smut, Incest.

"Sharp Point?" you asked, frowning at what one of your ladies had just told you. Your fingers absentmindedly played with the wedding ring adorning your hand.

"That's what I heard, my lady," Celia responded, visibly nervous. Earlier this morning, you had seen Aemond leave the city in a fury. You had no idea where he was headed, and he hadn’t even bothered to speak to you when you tried to approach him.

Before you could ask more questions, the loud, sharp roar of Vhagar filled the air. Determined, you moved to the balcony and saw the fearsome creature descending onto Aegon’s Hill, where she usually rested.

You left your chambers, heading towards the council room. Although you had been forbidden from entering due to "conspiring and supporting the usurper," you knew that half of the council was absent, and you doubted anyone else would deal with the angry prince.

When you entered, the room was empty. The marble spheres in the center of the table, each of a different color, represented the role of the person occupying each seat. You approached to take one into your hands, the smooth, cold sphere cradled in your palm.

Suddenly, you heard the door swing open with force. "Out!" Aemond ordered in a threatening tone to the two guards who had followed him. The guards stopped abruptly and quickly exited the room.

Aemond dropped heavily into the chair at the head of the table, the king’s chair. His eyes quickly found you; it seemed he hadn’t realized you were in the room.

"What are you doing here?" His irritated tone echoed in the room, the smell of smoke and dragon invading your nostrils. You prayed he hadn’t done what you feared.

"I saw you leave the city in a rage today," you said, approaching the table again and returning the sphere to its previous place. Aemond’s eyes cautiously followed you. "What happened?" You knew the situation well, but you wanted him to tell you.

Aemond sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to control his anger. "She has three fucking dragons. That whore got them," he muttered through gritted teeth, his hands gripping the chair.

You carefully moved closer to him.

"Did you go to Sharp Point?" you asked, concerned. Aemond averted his gaze, not answering.

"Aemond," you said sternly, waiting for an explanation.

"Prince Regent," he corrected you, avoiding your question.

"we don't burn cities," you said firmly, stepping closer to him. What he had done was something horrible, an atrocity against innocent people who did not deserve such a fate.

"What does it matter what we do now?" he replied dismissively. You sighed, feeling like your hangover was killing you; arguing was the last thing you needed at that moment.

Aemond kept his gaze fixed on you, and you felt his warm hand taking yours, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. There was something in his gesture that revealed both his desperation and his need for comfort.

"We need to win," he said, drawing your attention. "Then I will be king, and you will be my queen." His grip on your hand tightened, conveying his determination.

"And if it doesn't happen? If Aegon recovers or Rhaenyra decides to attack?" You cupped his cheek in your hand, feeling the tension under your touch. You understood his desire to possess the throne; he was the second son, heir to nothing, always in the shadow of his brother. Now that he had the opportunity to have it all, why wouldn’t he seize it? But you wondered if it would be worth the sacrifice.

Aemond closed his eyes for a moment, savoring your caress, then opened them to look at you with intensity. "That won’t happen," he said with a confidence that attempted to ease your concerns. He stood up and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

You decided to stay in your chambers for the rest of the day, surrendering to the forced calm that Aemond had imposed. As your ladies prepared the bath, filling the tub with soothing essences, you wrapped yourself in a thin robe, offering little protection against the chill of the night air seeping through the partially open windows.

Suddenly, the doors to your chamber burst open. Aemond entered with a severe expression, his foul mood evident in every movement. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, tired of his irritable demeanor.

"Leave us," Aemond ordered in a firm voice, echoing through the room. Your ladies, who had barely finished preparing the bath, exchanged nervous glances before hurrying out, leaving a tense silence behind them.

You sighed tiredly, mentally preparing yourself for what seemed like another confrontation, but before you could ask what was going on, Aemond launched himself at you, trapping you in an intense, urgent kiss. The surprise left you momentarily paralyzed, and when you tried to push him away, his grip on your hips tightened, pressing your body against his with a firmness that left no room for resistance.

Aemond, with a quickness that revealed his impatience, slid the robe from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and exposing your completely naked body to him. His eyes roamed over your figure with an almost all-consuming intensity before his lips captured yours again in a deep, hungry kiss. His body leaned over yours, and you felt his hips press against yours, the tight bulge of his pants eliciting an immediate response from your body, a wetness spreading quickly between your thighs.

The room was filled with the sound of his labored breathing as his hands moved down your body, tracing the contour of your hips and then lower, as if he wanted to memorize every curve, every inch of your skin. His lips traveled over your body and chest, leaving a trail of marks; hickeys and bites that burned on your skin, witnesses of his overflowing desire.

Aemond wasn't being careful. His movements were urgent, almost abrupt, driven by a need that seemed insatiable. He took you without reservation, without pretensions of softness, as if he feared that at any moment you could vanish in his hands. His caresses were possessive, claiming every part of you, as his mouth descended, marking his territory with every kiss, with every bite he left on your skin.

You felt the warmth of his fingers work their way between your lower lips, soaking in the moisture that had gathered from his touch. The sensation was overwhelming, causing a gasp to escape your lips before you could suppress it. “Aemond,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the intensity of the moment, as he continued his work, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles that sent waves of pleasure throughout your body.

His every move seemed designed to keep you on the edge, to push you to the limit of what you could endure without allowing yourself to fall completely. His eyes lifted to yours, and there was something more than pure desire in that look; there was an uncontrollable fire, a mixture of devotion and possession that left you breathless. You felt his gaze consume you, as if he wanted to make it clear that every part of you belonged to him.

Aemond brought his face closer to yours, his lips brushing against yours with deliberate provocation, maintaining that intense visual connection that made you feel vulnerable and, at the same time, powerfully desired. "You feel it?" he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, laden with palpable need. "How I need you... How I want you for me and only for me."

His words enveloped you in searing heat, and before you could respond, you felt him release his member from his pants, his tip grazing your entrance with a precision that left you breathless. The initial contact was a preview, a promise of what was to come, and when Aemond finally sank into you in one fell swoop, the world seemed to stop. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt the length of him filling you completely, a mix of pleasure and pain that left you trembling.

The initial burning that spread across your sensitive area barely had time to dissipate before he began to move. He didn't give you time to adjust, to adapt to the intensity of his presence inside you. His thrusts were slow at first, almost tortuously controlled, as if he was enjoying every second that he had you completely at his mercy. But soon, the slowness gave way to a faster, more demanding pace.

Every time Aemond moved inside you, you felt your body respond instinctively, every nerve ignited by the intensity of his desire. His hands clung to your hips, his fingers marking your skin with a force that bordered on painful, but it was precisely that mix of power and possession that made the pleasure intensify, taking you to a point of no return.

"You like this, don't you?" He murmured against your ear, his voice low and heavy with raw desire. Each word was a dark whisper that echoed in your mind, increasing the pace of his thrusts as he dragged you closer and closer to the edge. The heat of his breath on your neck made you shiver, and his tone, so full of control and confidence, was a seduction in itself. You felt your body submit to his every movement, every thrust designed to take you to the edge of the abyss and keep you there, on that fine line between pleasure and total surrender. His voice enveloped you, a constant reminder of his dominance over you, of the way he had you completely under his control.

Your walls clenched around his member, trapping him with each thrust as he increased the pace, his body moving with relentless precision. The sound of skin against skin echoed in the room, a symphony of desire that only the two of you could hear, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge.

Aemond leaned over you, his hands firmly on your hips, guiding your every movement as his lips sought yours again, devouring them with a hunger that seemed insatiable. His breathing became more irregular, his pants mixing with yours, creating an atmosphere thick with need.

You felt your body tense, every fiber of your being on fire as you approached your climax. “Don't stop,” you whispered, the words barely coming out between the moans escaping your lips.

Aemond gritted his teeth, his jaw marked with the effort of restraining himself. But with each contraction of your walls around him, you felt him lose that control, how his own desire intensified as he felt your complete surrender.

“I'm not going to stop,” he growled, his voice rough and filled with a promise that made you shudder. His pace became erratic, deeper, each thrust designed to push you over the edge.

Finally, you felt pleasure building up inside you, an uncontrollable wave that swept you away mercilessly. Your walls clenched tightly around him, and it was that movement, that sensation, that drove him to his own limit. Aemond let out a low, guttural moan as he climaxed, his hips bucking hard one last time before burying himself deep inside you, spilling his seed inside you.

You felt Aemond's weight relax on top of you, his ragged breathing still echoing in your ear as you both tried to catch your breath. The warmth of his body, still attached to yours, offered unexpected comfort after the storm of emotions and desire that had just passed between you.

With a deep sigh, Aemond slowly stepped away, moving carefully so as not to upset the delicate balance that had been established in the room. He lay down next to you, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that seemed to contradict the intensity of what had just happened.

The room was filled with a comforting calm, the echo of the storm of passion fading, leaving only the tranquility that followed a battle well fought. You snuggled closer to him, seeking the warmth of his body and the comfort of his presence.

Aemond held you close to his chest, his hand gently stroking your back in a repetitive, soothing gesture. The beat of his heart, slow and steady now, was the only sound breaking the silence of the room. Little by little, the tension of the last few days began to fade, giving way to a peace that they both desperately needed.

[ilovebuckers5]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚scary love˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

nika muhl x reader

summary - you've never experienced true love until nika came along and part of you doesn't believe that you deserve her.

word count - 1.6k

themes :

-angst

-fluff

warnings :

-arguing

-cursing

a / n - inspired by scary love by the neighborhood and dedicated to my love (not the bad parts though only the sweet ones!)

Nika's hair always felt nice on my bare chest. I felt at peace when I'd wake up to her lips just barely touching my collarbones. my hands were still tangled in her hair but I slowly twirled some strands in between my fingers. this didn't feel right. it felt right in the moment but in the back of my mind, I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve to have this perfect woman in my arms. it felt like I took up her warmth. I slowly peeled my arms off of her back and slid out from under her. her head gently fell against the pillow I was previously lying on. I watched as she didn't make a single move. I stood there and admired her messy hair sprawled out on the silky pillowcase. her fingers tightened around nothing but fabric, I could tell she wanted me back there. but I still walked to the bathroom and cleaned myself up. brushed my hair and brushed my teeth with the same thought running around my head. the same thoughts.

I can't fuck this up 

yet the moment I felt okay and comfortable, a flip had switched. a couple of weeks after that morning I was feeling amazing. I felt like everything I was blessed with was meant for me. but the second an ounce of doubt ran through my head, I blew.

"Baby who is this?" Nika said holding my phone to my face. her voice was soft and calm but part of me still felt threatened. it wasn't anyone. it was just my best friend and I happened to have her contact as "babe💞" the same emoji I had next to Nika's name on my phone. I knew that it was just my best friend and nothing more but for some reason, I felt the need to panic. as if I had something to hide. "oh. uh, it's just- no one." I snatched my phone out of her hand leaving it empty as if it was searching for something to grasp onto. I held my phone to my face as I quickly changed the contact back to my best friend's name and a red heart next to it. I felt guilty for nothing. when I looked up I saw Nika with watering eyes ready to burst. and suddenly I copied. this is the last thing I wanted. Had I fucked it up? "y-you can tell me who it is." her voice was trembling beneath her lips. I could tell that inside she was fuming and wanted to explode but she had always hidden her angry side from me so she refused to blow. I quickly stepped closer to her body, cradling her jaw. I tried to calm her down without telling her the truth even though I knew that was what would fix things. something was stopping me. She tilted her head in the opposite direction of my hand, ripping her skin from my own. "who was it? just fucking tell me." why didn't I tell her. why couldn't I? I rested my hands against my stomach trying to control my increasing breath. "i-i don't know." my voice trailed off with shaky breaths. what the fuck was stopping me. I held onto my arms pretending it was Nika. the room went quiet after Nika took a couple of deep breaths. Nika finally turned around and showed her damp face. her eyebrows furrowed when she saw that I had been crying too. "why are you crying? what do you have to be crying about?" she pointed her finger at my chest, gently bumping me back. I took a breath, stumbling over my air while wiping tears from my cheeks as fast as I could. I tried to keep it together and not sob out of frustration. "it's not anyone Nika I promise." I practically pleaded between words.

"then why won't you tell me!?" her hands flung through the air drastically.

"Please you gotta trust me, baby." I dipped my head into my palms.

"how am I supposed to trust you when you can't even tell me who you're calling babe?"

"It's just a nickname," I whispered under my breath.

"Jesus Christ." her hands were tangled in her hair as she paced around the room.

"I'm sorry" I croaked out between hidden sobs.

I felt weak.

"do you realize that I love you? more than anything in the world and if you do too you need to fucking show it!" she said with her back faced to me.

I held onto that. She loved me more than anything in the world. and I loved her more than myself.

"I-" I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off.

"no. You can explain to me once you actually know how to"

Nika walked out of the door and to her car. I knew where she was going. she drove all the way back to campus to see Paige. it's where she always went when she was upset. So there I was sitting on the edge of our bed. crying to pass the time that was only filled with hope for her coming back through the door and giving me time to explain. I slowly moved to the floor and sat against the wall instead. My knees curled up to my chest. my jeans soaked up all the tears that came out of my eyes. I held onto my shins and sobbed for the rest of the night. it was only at around 3 am that I decided to get up and change something. I brushed through my hair and changed into sweatpants and a cropped tank top. I changed from my slippers into tennis shoes before leaving the apartment and walking to campus. it took me thirty minutes to get there and about ten minutes to get the balls to knock on Paige's door. the door swung open to reveal Paige staring at me. blanker than usual. she was obviously mad and that made me feel even worse. "uh- can I come in?" I know Paige loved me and Nika together and separately so she let me in and sat herself on her couch. "she's in my room." she spit out blandly while motioning her hand behind her head.

"did you walk here?" Paige questioned while shoving leftovers in her mouth.

"yes," I said while walking down to where Nika was. the door was cracked open enough for me to see her lying on Paige's bed. no covers and not a pillow. just flat sheets. I hesitated with my hand hovering over the door knob before creaking open the door. Nika was asleep, which I was part thankful and sad about. She used to say that it was almost impossible to sleep without me. I could tell that she wasn't completely out though. I can always tell now from the number of times I've walked in on her sitting up waiting for me to come back from the bathroom. She would always have a goofy smile on her lips once I called her out for fake sleeping. I chose to lean against the wall after closing the door instead of sitting on the edge of Paige's bed like how I wanted to. I watched Nika's chest rise and fall with every melancholy breath she took in her sleep. A million things went through my head questioning what she could be thinking about. A small hair fell down the side of her face and I took no time to reach and move it back behind her ear. I guess she's a light sleeper without me. she blinked her eyes open and I wanted to cover my face. her eyes were locked with mine for half a second before she looked down at the pale purple sheets she was lying on. we sat in silence for what felt like forever until I spoke.

"it was my best friend. the girl in my contacts." I explained, waiting for Nika to even look at me.

"We have this inside joke where we call each other babe and it was brought up the night before so I thought it would be funny to change her contact to that but I'm now realizing that it was a bad thing to do while in a relationship and I'm so so sorry, I don't want to lose you and I feel like I just did you're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I don't know what I'd do without you-" my words began to trail off before Nika stood up and held her finger to my lips.

"stop." her hand rested on my hip while she stared into my eyes for the first time in 2 hours. I got caught in her eyes. her touch and her breath and everything else. she sighed and looked at the floor then back up to me.

"It's okay," she whispered while wiping the few tears that fell down my face without me noticing. she pressed her forehead against mine while moving her hands to the small of my back. a shiver ran up my spine when I felt her touch on my uncovered skin.

"I love you, Nika. so much more than you think. I'm so" my voice began to break "I'm scared that something will go wrong. that's the only thing that has ever happened to me. I get in an argument and then it's over. if that happened between us, I- I don't know what I'd do." Nika nodded along while I spoke.

"I am never. ever. going to pull that kind of shit on you beba."

Nika's accent calmed me. her words seemed to flow more when her accent was present.

I wrapped my arms around Nika's body pulling her in tightly. I pulled away to see her staring in absolute awe. her hands ran over my hair, slowly twirling strands between her fingers like how I used to.

[the-traveling-poet]

Her Kind Heart

How, after all he had seen her endure, could she still smile? How could her heart be so full after being so broken? It was something Levi had admired, and soon came to love. How could he not, when she taught him many a value?

Pairing: Levi x F!Reader

Warnings: none, just platonic-to-lovers, Levi POV

Taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe @pelicanpizza @humanitys-strongest-brat @raginginferno267 @ackermanswifee If you’d like to be added to the taglist for new Levi contact, just DM me :)

A/N: I got this request over on Wattpad, but I wanted to post this here as well. Also ps, I meant to post this earlier in the day (for me, in EST time) but I got into a fight with a drunk man aka my father so it got postponed :)

Time and time again, he’d witnessed battle outside the walls harden and change many a cadet and captain alike.

They would become closed off, emotionally absent or angry. Some became paranoid and even lashed out against command from angers and griefs understood by themselves only.

Yet others succumbed to their traumas and became a shell of who they once were; a mere shadow of a soldier fighting for a cause they no longer believed in.

Why then, if this held true more often than not, hadn’t she fallen to these outcomes? How was her fate different than anyone else before her?

He’d seen her around HQ often enough to notice her usual cheer undiminished by the obstacles they all faced inside and outside the walls as Scouts. Ever she remained as radiant as the day he’d met her, against the odds he had silently betted upon.

Ms. Y/N L/N. She was as puzzling as she was alluring.

He’d supposed her rise in ranks might dull her gentle approach to her comrades and that kind twinkle ever present in her eye, but these things hadn’t changed. Not once. He’d never once seen even a flinch in her presentation.

How could someone witness such carnage and hopelessness, and yet remain so positive? So in control over their own heart and mind? Yet she managed, with a grace that surprised even the most weathered of veterans.

He’d managed to ask her once, masking indifference to her response despite his inner turmoil. And her answer had been as assertive as ever she always was;

“Someone needs to bring forth the morale in the barracks around HQ, so I stepped up. Many have and many will, so why not me also? Is that an issue?”

“I never said it was an issue, but how can you have the energy for it? Many have filled those shoes and fallen into the same pit they tried to help others out of,”

Levi had recounted, leaned against the stone wall at his back.

At first, he figured by her silence that Y/N wouldn’t have an answer; something he had been banking on. But to his surprise, she eventually met his eye from across the narrow hall with a kind and somehow knowing smile adorning her face.

“Why give up based on another’s downfall? They did what they could with what they had, and that’s what I plan to do. They deserve happiness just as much as myself. As we all do. Even you, Captain. Especially you.”

He’d looked at her differently ever since.

Sure, he could have snapped back with some crude imitation of humor, or pressed his rank above her at the time to show he’d know better than her how far morale got one in this line of work.

But something in him just couldn’t fathom arguing her point; she was right, after all.

And she’d spoke with such a calm certainty, that even he believed her the moment she spoke.

He began to see just how wise in the way of emotions she could be, if one paid close enough attention. And after that first official interaction, he certainly had.

As time passed, in which he mulled her response over daily, he supposed he’d never thought of things her way.

Morale was important to maintain within one’s own squad, to follow command efficiently and without doubt in your leader to complete the mission; or at least attribute to it.

He’d learned this through his training with Erwin following his ‘capture’. So of course, he was sure of this knowledge. Hadn't he been?

But to instill that hope in those around you who couldn’t find it within their own mind and heart to have a hope beyond their mundane lives? Especially those outside the line of command and even outside the military itself that had no connection to her personally? To show them that same hope and leadership, without the military rank to back it up…What would she gain?

What of the merchants he’d witnessed her pass and bid good luck onto? What of the common people she would pass on horseback on her way back into the safety of the walls after an expedition and offer her condolences before she even recognized her own exhaustion? How had they earned her personal reassurance?

He admired this about her, admittedly. It wasn’t often he found himself admiring others, he later came to realize. Not because he felt himself superior to anyone; far from it. Rather, he supposed he’d never allowed room in his heart for such grievances and responsibility outside his personal loyalties. Of course, his loyalties were to saving and freeing mankind; but had he ever considered the finer details of emotion ranging into areas he hadn’t yet reached himself? Or at least, allowed himself to reach?

That was where his friendship with Y/N had first blossomed; over idle chitchat debating one’s idea of freedom, should it come to humanity one day. Soon enough they debated their differing opinions on affairs both inside and outside the military; some of which he came to realize he agreed with her on over his own views. Her care for those around her, regardless of the profit it would gain her, which often times was none, continued to surprise him.

A sullen cadet at wit’s end, a Captain stressed to their limits, a child in the town with a quivering lip…She would tend to them as if they were her own. This in itself took him the longest to understand. And even when he had finally asked, and she had explained, it took him a little longer to fully grasp.

“That cadet wasn’t assigned to you. It’s their Captain’s job to see to their well-being,” Levi had hummed, encountering her after such an event. Y/N had merely shrugged, a warm smile still perched on her lips.

“I didn’t see their Captain around; yet they still looked so distraught.” She’d shrugged.

“You aren’t their mother.” Levi had huffed, though there was no venom to his quip. Y/N seemed to pick up on this, and offered no scowl.

“Why couldn’t I be, at least temporarily? We all need unity in times of uncertainty. That’s what makes us human.”

And how that phrase had stuck with him for years to come. Perhaps it wasn’t so wrong to reach out for guidance and company when needed…

It wasn’t until a handful of years into knowing her as his trusted friend and companion did he realize what allure she held. Not just in spirit, but in beauty; though he supposed deep down he’d always seen her attraction.

Wether it was from the looks he observantly noted with distain from the townsfolk or fellow military men and women in the MP that made him feel bitter, or from the time spent comfortably in her company being guided and comforted by her words alone; he’d realized a little late that he’d fallen for her wise and caring charisma.

Another handful of years would pass with him being stuck in his own denial and self diagnosed delusion, until he’d have the courage to face these ever growing emotions within his heart when they became too much for him to keep silently to himself. And perhaps even a little longer still until he’d actually act upon them.

But for the meantime, he was content with keeping her closer than anyone else around him, devoting his all to her saftey and her well-being in hopes to repay her own emotional support and understanding to him all these years.

Until he deemed the time was right to confess his heart, her ever present serene and calming aura was something he knew he couldn’t ever give up.

For more Levi Ackerman content, feel free to check out my masterlists!

[dead-boys-club]

†  rest : dr. ratio.

❥ a gift for @somenerd3110 ❥ sick comfort things

the sterile scent of antiseptic that lingered in the air brought you to reality, a seemingly comfortable familiarity in comparison to the unknown, mostly white room. dr. ratio moved with practiced efficiency, footsteps soft but purposeful on the cold, tiled floor. the typical precision and detachment he exhibited in his work were somewhat softened by the worry visible on his face.

you lie in bed, the light sheets drawn up to your chest, your skin warm with fever, feeling as if it were crawling. it began with a slight cough, which you had brushed off as just a fleeting cold. however, it hadn't gone away. instead, the sickness took root in your lungs, turning each breath into a battle, as every cough sent waves of pain through your body. you had joked prior to the world going black about the well known 'death rattle' that sounded from you.

when dr. ratio had found you, trying to go about your day as if nothing was wrong, he had immediately taken charge, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a firm, almost protective concern. he wanted to, and would later on, give you a firm reminder to take better care of yourself. he had insisted you rest, and now, here you were, tucked into a bed in the medbay, under his watchful care. he had vehemently denied anyone else's presence.

you blinked up at him, trying to offer a small, reassuring smile, but it came out weak and tired, something that only made it worse. 'i'm okay, honestly,' you rasped, your voice hoarse from the constant coughing. it didn't sound very convincing at all.

he frowned, not unkindly, but with the kind of disapproval that came from genuine concern. on a normal basis, you would joke about the fatherly tinge to such actions. 'you are not okay,' he replied, his voice calm but persistent. 'you’ve been running a fever for several days, and you’re barely able to breathe without pain. you need to rest and not be so stubborn.'

you wanted to argue, to tell him you didn’t need to be fussed over, but another coughing fit seized you, leaving you gasping for air. not to mention, it would only prove his point on your headstrong behavior. dr. ratio was at your side in an instant, a glass of water appearing in his hand as if by magic.

'drink.' he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

you obeyed, taking slow, careful sips, feeling the cool water soothe your raw throat, cringing just slightly. his hand rested lightly on your shoulder, his touch steadying and reassuring.

'why didn’t you tell me sooner?' he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours. there was no accusation in his voice, only a deep, underlying worry. his concern rooted in the fact you wouldn't be so bad off had you just been honest.

you looked away, feeling a pang of guilt. 'i don't like bothering you,' you admitted. 'you're always busy and i figured it would just.. pass.'

dr. ratio let out a soft sigh, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently. 'you’re never a bother,' he said, his voice softening. 'your health is important to me, as it should be to you. i need you to promise that you’ll come to me if you’re ever feeling unwell again.'

his words were laced with a seriousness that made you realize just how much he cared, not that you doubted it before, but it was still nice to hear. it wasn’t just about your physical health—it was about the bond you shared, the deep, platonic connection that had grown between you over time.

'i promise.' you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, almost reluctantly. it wasn't easy to just start doing something and you couldn't help the guilt that would come with potentially interrupting him.

he nodded, satisfied with your answer, and reached for a small device on the nearby table. 'let’s me check your vitals again. i want to make sure your fever is coming down.'

as he gently placed the device against your wrist, you couldn’t help but notice the way his usually cool, clinical demeanor had softened. there was a warmth in his eyes, a quiet determination to see you through this, no matter what. it was considerably calming to see.

the device beeped softly, and he studied the readings with a focused intensity. as a moment, he nodded, that frown making a brief return to his features.

'you fever is down but only slightly.. still too high,' he murmured, more to himself than to you. he stood up, moving to a small cabinet where he retrieved a vial and a syringe. 'this will help bring it down further and ease the pain in your chest.'

you wanted to gag while watching him prepare the injection, his movements precise and efficient, but there was a gentleness in the way he approached you, a careful consideration that he reserved only for those closest to him. you knew it was needed but you were never one for injections of any kind.

he administered the injection with practiced ease, and as the medication began to take effect, you felt some of the tension in your body start to ease. the pain in your chest dulled to a manageable ache, and the fog of fever lifted slightly, leaving you feeling clearer, if not entirely better. there was still that tug of discomfort at the back of your head, bones feeling heavy.

dr. ratio stayed by your side, his hand resting lightly on your arm, a silent anchor in the midst of your discomfort. he didn’t speak, but his presence was enough—a reminder that you weren’t alone, that someone was watching over you with unwavering care. someone that knew what they were doing and wouldn't leave until you were okay.

as the minutes ticked by, you felt your eyelids grow heavy, the combination of the medication and exhaustion from trying to fight whatever illness you had catching up quickly. he took notice of this, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin in a soothing gesture.

'rest now,' he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. 'i’ll be here when you wake up.'

you nodded weakly, the last of your resistance fading as sleep began to claim you. the last thing you felt before drifting off was the comforting weight of his hand on your arm, a steady reminder that you were safe.

and as you slipped into sleep, the thought lingered in your mind: no matter what, you knew that he would always be there, watching over you with the same quiet, steadfast care that had become such an integral part of your life.

[stairain]

Jealous Girl.

Requested by @saturnstringz

Catching Spencer talking to another woman wasn’t exactly ideal, but thankfully you know just how to handle him. 

Warnings: Sub Spencer, ropes, orgasm denial, overstimulation, vibrator, degradation, begging, titles (Ma’am)

WC: 2.4K

“So who is she?” 

Your voice rings loud in his ears, bouncing off the walls of the silent cold room. Shaking his head, Spencer strains against the thick rope that has him tied to the hard metal chair you’ve got him bound to. 

The cold material is unforgiving against his sweating skin, and he has to swallow in order to not choke on his words the moment he opens his mouth. 

“N-No one.. She’s no one, please. Please let me cum.”

One of your hands is lazily pumping his poor neglected cock. You had been edging him for over an hour at this point. The tip was a burning hot red, spilling precum with each pass your palm granted him. He twitched in his ropes, trying to push his hips forward just the littlest bit so he could actually feel your touch, instead of it just barely grazing where he needed it most. 

If there were some things you would expect from Spencer, it would be to never be caught dead without his ring on, or to never let Google explain anything better than he could. But catching him being friendly with another woman at the mall while you were shopping for a new dress was not on that list. 

You had kept it together just fine until you arrived home. The car ride back was silent, with a few desperate attempts from him to break the tension, in which you ignored him entirely. He fidgeted in the passenger seat as his heart pounded in his chest, knowing exactly what awaited him when the two of you pulled into the driveway. 

So when you dragged him into the house and aggressively sat him down on a chair with threatening eyes that dared him to move, it wasn’t much of a surprise. 

So here you were, sitting in front of the poor man, taking your sweet time bringing him to his impending orgasm just to rip it away from him the moment it became just enough. Tears brimmed his eyes and his mouth was never closed for more than a few seconds at a time. 

“What’d you guys talk about, hm? Seemed like you were having quite some fun.” 

Your tone was dangerous, filled with a toxin that shook him to his core. His mouth went dry and you relished in the way his cock jumped in your gentle hold. 

“She was flirting with you, wasn’t she?”

You weren’t even giving him the chance to speak, but he knew better than that anyway. Your grip around him tightens and quickly strokes over the sensitive head, making him jolt in surprise. His lips part in a silent moan as you torture him further. 

“I could tell.. You get that blush on your face, the same one that’s always there whenever anyone flirts with you. The one that tells me how much you enjoy it, tells me how much of a whore you are.” 

Spencer shudders at your words, and his eyes cross as he frantically shakes his head. His disheveled hair fans in front of his face, covering his blissed out expression of pain and pleasure. 

“I-I’m.. I’m not.” 

He tries to argue, in which you just deal a painfully hard squeeze to the tip of his cock. His entire body shakes, and if it weren’t for the ropes that held him flush against the chair, he would’ve doubled over, body folding in half in a desperate attempt to get you off of him.  

“Now we’re lying, are we? As if talking to that woman wasn’t enough for you.” 

With a disapproving shake of your head, you begin to stroke him again. Your pace returns to the same rushed rhythm you had adopted this entire time. Spencer writhed in your hold and couldn’t seem to catch his breath as pathetic whimpers and moans spill from his mouth and into the warm air that surrounds him. 

You were no doubt rubbing the skin of his shaft raw, the last droplets of spit that you had so generously drooled down onto his cock now long gone. 

“Please.. Please ma’am, I need to cum, need to..”

He whines miserably, feeling the deep pit in his stomach fill with that same irresistible arousal he always got when he was about to burst. His balls were heavy against the seat, full up and just begging for a release. The lewd shlicking of your hand smearing his precum all over his dick only distracted him further. 

Tilting your head to the side and biting your lip in contemplation, your hand speeds up.

“But, I don’t think you deserve it, baby.”

Spencer’s eyes practically pop out of his head at your cruel admittance. And despite telling he couldn’t cum, the quick strokes of your palm alluded otherwise. He’s sputtering, twitching in his binds and trying to pull his cock away from you.

“P-Please, please please.. I need it so bad, just let me cum. You have to, you need to.”

Hot tears stream from his eyes and down his reddened cheeks, dripping across his jaw as he tries his absolute hardest to hold back for you. His eyes roll back into their sockets and squeeze shut as you feel him start to shallowly thrust into your tight fist.

Your hand works him past the point of return, and he can’t help but fuck up into your grip. Sliding against your rough palm, using every gush of precum as an aid to bring him to completion. 

“Ma’am.. M—Please I c- I can’t.” 

On one hand, he wanted to be good for you and not explode in your fist, no doubt making you even angrier at him. But on the better hand, yours was working him so well that he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer. 

Seeming to ignore his words, not even acknowledging them, you just continue your efforts to make him fall apart. You have an uninterested look on your face, like you’d rather be anywhere else but here. 

Spencer throws his head back against the top of the chair and grits his teeth, inhaling sharply as an absolutely guttural and broken moan rips through his throat.

A torrent of thick, sticky cum shoots up through your fist, spilling over the sides of your fingers and down to the base of his shaft. He’s being absolutely wrecked by the not so unexpected orgasm. Body spasming and eyes watering. 

Every expanse of his skin is covered with his fluids. Down his cheeks pours a flood of regretful tears, salty sweat dripping down his chest and temples, and hips positively soaked with his release. 

He shakes his head and tries to apologize, but all that comes out are desperate sobs of “I’m sorry” or “Didn’t meant to.” 

But the way your hand continues to move serves as enough of a rude awakening, and he chokes back another cry as he looks down at you with his eyebrows skewed into an expression of confusion. 

“W-What are.. What are you doing?”

His broken voice calls out to you, begging you to pay some sort of attention to his wrecked form. All he gets is a quiet, dismissive hum as you toy with his mess. 

Your fist drags up and down his soaked cock as if it were your job, smearing his cum all over your fingers and his still rock hard cock. 

With another desperate plea, Spencer’s thighs shake and he tries to jerk his hips away from your hold, but to no avail. 

“P-Please.. Please stop. I ca—I can’t.”

The wind has been knocked out of his lung, all of the air traveling right up to that little brain of his. As obscure facts about ancient civilizations and his newest solution to a decade old murder all dissolve into a dizzy flurry of you. 

The way you’re looking up at him through those lashes of yours, piercing eyes boring a hole right into the center of his forehead. The way one hand splays across the expanse of his pelvis and the other works its way up and down his poor abused cock, it’s all too much. 

With the shake of your head, you only force him to fuck your fist even faster and harder now. The gross noise of his cum slapping against the base of his shaft and the squishing of your fingers squeezing around him brutally are all he can possibly think about. 

That and begging you to just let up already. He’s learned his lesson, hasn’t he?

Not even close. 

“I s-swear. I-I’ll be good now, I promise. Please just—just stop.”

Spencer’s voice breaks an astonishing amount of times throughout his words, and you don’t hold back the evil laugh that you let out. He seems to crumble in on himself upon hearing it.

“What kind of punishment is letting you cum, Spence? The kind you want from her?”

He winced at the mention of anyone else during a time like this. He was only focused on you, and just hoping you’d show him some semblance of remorse. 

The overstimulation was very quickly taking over his entire self. He tried so hard to meet your dark gaze as you looked up and he looked down, but with the way his eyes kept crossing and fluttering back into their lids, he just couldn’t. 

You grab him at the head and squeeze, making a rather large fish of precum spill over the top of your fist. Spencer writhes under your hold and curses under his breath. 

The all too familiar pit was beginning to take its toll on him again, and if his heart that was beating 100 miles a minute didn’t let you know he couldn’t handle another orgasm so soon, nothing would. 

“Please, I-I can’t take it.” 

You click your tongue a few times and move your other hand so now both of them are pumping relentlessly up and down his cock. A wanton moan slips its way through his lips, echoing off the walls that’d sob if they were alive. 

“Oh but baby, you were just begging for more. What happened?”

If he could, he’d roll his eyes at the plastic tone in your voice. The faux innocence and concern laced in it was enough to make him scoff at you as you cruelly toyed with him. 

But instead, his brown locks jerk as he frantically shakes his head, whimpering in defeat. When he looks down to you and you meet his gaze, more tears well up in his big round eyes. In which you just click your tongue once more and let your hand travel to his tip. 

“Oh you’re fine, stop that.”

His hands clench and pull at the ropes, maybe in a last feeble endeavor to free himself, or in a pathetic attempt to hold himself back. Either way, neither work the second you flatten your hand and press the palm of it up against the leaking head. 

Moving one hand up and down the shaft, the other circles the surface of the palm over the sensitive hole. His eyes stutter as they roll back into his skull, and his mouth quivers as it has no other choice but to fall open and let his throat do the work. 

Bordering a scream, the moan that leaves his lips has you grinning like a madman. His thighs shake underneath you and he sputters out something resembling a warning. 

“D-Don’t. Don’t. Oh fuck, oh fuck.. I-I’m..”

Spencer’s head dips down so low his chin almost kisses the sweat-slicked skin of his sternum, and he squeezes his eyes shut so hard that thick tears drop down on his stomach. His hips stutter and his cock twitches as he can’t possibly resist the urge to just give into you finally. 

With one last sob, his lower body lifts from the chair and he’s gushing everywhere. The first spurt hits your palm directly, spilling over the sides of his shaft as you’re still circling your hand over him. The second shoots into the air the moment you remove said hand from him. And the third bursts across his entire body, traveling all the way up to where it catches against his sharp jawline. 

Spencer grits his teeth and pants through the tight corners, succumbing to the intense pleasure that’s proven itself more than enough. He’s hiccuping and shaking as his sobs wrack through his ruined frame. 

His hair sticks to his forehead and he whines as he feels his release pooling around the dips in his waist, and the space where his thighs are parted. 

Thankfully this time, you’ve removed your hands from his person as you watch him tremble in front of you. He’s made a mess of himself and on himself, but you’re not quite satisfied. 

You lean forward a bit and rest your cheek on his knee, looking up at him with an innocent expression, as if you didn’t just break him. 

“How long did you talk to that woman, Spence? I know you know.”

The man shudders and shakes his head a little before answering, almost immediately regretting even answering you the second he sees your face contort into that same evil smile. 

“Five minutes.” 

You sigh and the smile never leaves your face as you stand up and almost too joyfully walk over to your dresser. 

Spencer’s pulse rings in his ear, the blood finally rushing back through his body as he begins to feel his cock soften. His eyes flutter close as he allows himself to relax after two orgasms in a row, but the moment he opens his eyes to find you standing over him with a bright purple vibrator in your hands, his heart drops. 

“I-What?”

He nervously laughs, eyes darting around as if begging someone to save him, even though you both knew it was just the two of you. 

“Five minutes you said?”

Your finger flicks against a single button, and the buzzing of the toy taunts him as he watches it shake in your hand. 

“Then that means three more orgasms, and you’re free to go.” 

Spencer’s breath staggers and he shakes his head, twisting his wrists and knees in one last pathetic attempt to make a run for it. 

“W-Wait, please. You can't be serious.” 

His voice breaks and you can already see the fresh tears beginning to bloom in his eyes. With a shrug, you fall back down to your knees in front of him. 

You press the buzzing toy right against the sensitive underside of his already hardening cock, rolling your eyes when he cries out and whines immediately. 

“Shut it, Spence. You had your fun, now it’s my turn.” 

[roo-bastmoon]

De-platform, Co-opt, En-joy

Roo's Guide to Handling Haters

Disclaimer: Not telling you guys how to run your blogs. Just sharing some tips on how to deprive narcissists of supply and live your best life online.

You're gonna see a LOT of hate, lies, and bullshit over Are You Sure? It's already started.

And everyone has their own way of dealing with that--whether it's to take a step back from the internet, or get into a dog fight in the comments, or compose thoughtful essays deconstructing ideas. I'm not here to pressure you into any one particular strategy--your blog, your rules.

But I've been in various online fandoms for 25 years now, on tumblr for 14, in ARMY for three, and I do have some wisdom I can share, if you want it.

Here are my three tips:

De-platform

It's well past time Jikookers de-center Taekookers and antis from our spaces, our narratives--and our minds. They live in a separate reality, they do not debate in good faith, and they get vicious when they don't get their way.

Consider carefully if you want to repost, or reblog, or reply to anyone casting doubt, slinging insults, or spouting conspiracy theories, especially over the next few months.

Would you buy them ad space? No? Then don't give them an inch in your space. Quietly report and block.

Mocking them often feeds into their victim complex. Don't feed them anything. Don't bring trash in this house.

They get nothing. Nothing.

Co-opt

If you just can't completely ignore or remove them, then don't waste precious energy arguing every little point with them. Their goal is to sap your energy.

Take a page out of an aikido self-defense handbook and use their own momentum against them.

Attacks are now an opportunity to spam the shit out of that hateful post with loving hashtags and links to playlists and fundraisers.

They just gave us free promo; go full-tilt Wunseidel on their asses.

En-joy

The best revenge is to live well.

Deeply, deeply enjoy and savor the content you do want to see. Leave no crumbs. Smack your lips and hum in satisfaction with every delicious bite.

The Jikook tag should be one big non-stop party-party-yeah extravaganza from now until well past September 19th.

Antis should be just sick to death of trying to come online for fear of seeing people ecstatically celebrating everything we get, and totally ignoring the ruiners.

Our boys are happy. They want us to be happy for them. So be happy.

Do. NOT. let the ruiners. RUIN it.

Above all, don't become the kind of fan that Jimin or Jungkook would be ashamed of.

You don't have to defend or resist a damned thing.

They shared all these amazing moments with us, and that is the best testament to the truth there is. So sit back, relax, enjoy.

Be sure.

Love, Roo <3

[meadowfics]

meet me down on polk street

cho hyun-ju x f!woc!reader

in which you find your girlfriend during a harsh period within society

this will be a series that is based in america during the 1960s. after coming out as a trans woman back in south korea, hyun ju moves far away to california and meets who will be the love of her life.. y/n l/n.

warnings: harsh mentions of transphobia, harsh mentions of homophobia, harsh mentions of racism. there is NO squid game in this au, well at least in the 1960s!! y/n is intended to be a woman of color to fit within the storyline of how her and hyun-ju connect, but anyone can read this!!

next chapter will be linked here

its march 1967.. the air in seoul felt heavy, thick even. 

hyun ju had spent years carrying the burden of silence, pressing herself into a mold that never fit. the special forces had demanded discipline, obedience, and above all, unwavering masculinity. 

she had learned to march, to fire a rifle, to bark commands with a voice deeper than what felt natural. none of it changed the fact that, beneath the uniform, beneath the rigid posture and sharp salutes, she had always been a woman.  

resignation had been the easy part. 

telling her parents had been the war, not even close battles with the north side of the peninsula caused her to be this tense.  

“why did you leave?” her mother’s voice had been tight, worried. hyun ju had never given them reason to doubt her before. she had always done what was expected. good grades. respectable career. 

she had honored the family name. 

and now, she had thrown it away.  

hyun ju had prepared herself for this conversation for years, whispering the words in the quiet of her barracks, in the mirror of public restrooms where she dared to see her reflection as she truly was. 

nothing could have prepared her for the way her father’s face twisted, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the table.  

“i left,” she had begun, keeping her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest, “because i am not who you think i am.”  

her mother’s brows furrowed. 

“what do you mean?”  

“i have never been your son,” hyun ju said, carefully, precisely. 

“i– i am your daughter.”  

silence. the kind that suffocates, that presses against your ribs until it hurts to breathe.  

hyun ju’s mother’s lips parted, but no words came out. her father, however, did not hesitate.  

“are you sick?” his voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet like a knife.  

hyun ju clenched her fists under the table.

“no.”  

“this is nonsense,” her mother finally spoke, her voice a whisper, as if even acknowledging hyun ju’s words would bring shame upon their household.  

hyun ju had expected confusion. perhaps even denial. 

nothing could have prepared her for the disgust in her father’s eyes.  

“you are not my daughter,” he spat, rising to his feet so abruptly that the chair scraped against the floor. 

“you are delusional. sick in the head.”  

hyun ju felt something inside her fracture, a deep, aching wound that she knew would never heal.  

“you need help,” her mother said softly, eyes pleading.  

help. as if this was something to fix. as if she hadn’t spent her entire life trying to be something she wasn’t.  

hyun ju stood. she didn’t argue. didn’t beg them to understand. there was no point.  

“i will be leaving,” she said instead, voice hollow.  

hyun ju’s mother reached out, as if to stop her, but her father’s glare made her hesitate.  

“where will you go?” her mother asked.  

hyun ju swallowed. 

“somewhere i can be myself.”  

she left that night with only a small suitcase and the cash she had saved.  

for a week, she stayed in a hotel, staring out the window at a city that had never truly been hers. seoul was home, but it was also a cage. she wandered through familiar streets with unfamiliar freedom, but the loneliness settled into her bones, heavy and unshakable.  

the loneliness was suffocating.

hyun ju had spent her entire life feeling like a stranger in her own skin, but now, sitting alone in the dimly lit hotel room, staring at the ceiling, she felt like a stranger in the world itself.

the walls around her were bare, just like the space inside her chest. the bed, stiff and unwelcoming, felt foreign beneath her. no warmth, no familiarity. just a place to rest her body while her mind spiraled into a place she was afraid of.

not even the beds in those cold military barracks felt this hard. 

hyun ju needed to leave. she knew this in her bones, just as she had always known who she was. even as she clung to that certainty, another part of her whispered doubts, wrapping around her thoughts like ivy.

was she ready for this?

was she truly prepared to step into the unknown, to carve out a life for herself in a place she had never seen, surrounded by people she had never met?

hyun ju’s parents' rejection had cut deep, deeper than she would ever admit. it wasn’t just their words, but the finality of it. the way her father’s face twisted in disgust, as if the years she had spent as their child had been erased in an instant. the way her mother looked through her instead of at her.

they would not come looking for her.

she had no one left.

how was anyone supposed to love her if her parents did not?

the thought made her stomach twist, nausea creeping up her throat.

she pressed her fingers against her temples, breathing in sharply. she couldn’t let herself break down. not yet.

outside the window, the streets of seoul were alive with movement. people bustled past each other, heading home from work, gathering at food stalls, laughing, talking, living.

she had spent years moving through these streets, blending in, becoming just another face in the crowd.

she had never belonged.

the weight of expectation had pressed down on her shoulders for as long as she could remember. the uniform she had worn in the military had been a costume, a lie draped over her body, suffocating her every time she was called by a name that wasn’t hers.

hyun ju has grown her hair out for the last year. some thought it was just due to not having many barbers in the special forces. no. 

the woman took in the fact that her silky hair has finally reached her shoulders. she still wore slacks and a button up that made her feel uncomfortable, but it will due for now.

five days after leaving home.. it was the morning time when she stopped at a newspaper stand.

little did she know, that newspaper stand will guide her in the next direction  

the headline caught her eye.  

"san francisco: a city of outcasts? the rise of the homosexual community in america.” 

she picked up the paper, scanning the article. it was written with thinly veiled disgust, detailing how “deviants” had begun gathering in san francisco, forming their own communities, living openly, unashamed.  

hyun ju exhaled sharply. she wasn’t sure if it was relief or fear pounding in her chest.  

a place where people like her could exist.  

she had heard whispers before, stories of american cities where people defied the rules, where they didn’t have to hide.  

san francisco.  

it was far. farther than she had ever imagined going. however, it was on the other side of the pacific. 

she had enough money to get there, maybe take the ferry to japan and then a plane from there.  

hyun ju folded the paper under her arm and walked back to her hotel, her steps lighter than they had been in years.  

for the first time in her life, she had a destination.

—

to you, virginia had never felt like home. not really. it had been familiar, yes..predictable, routine. the kind of place where everyone knew everyone’s name, where sunday mornings were spent in church, where girls were raised to become wives, not dreamers.  

you had always known you were different.  

you grew up knowing the rules, watching your mother press your father’s shirts, hearing your grandmother’s hushed whispers about the girl down the street who had never married, the pity in their voices like a warning. but you never wanted that life. 

you never wanted to settle into a house with a husband you barely loved, to push a stroller while you stared longingly at women in ways you weren’t supposed to.  

so you had left. gone to college. the first woman in your family to do so.  

it was there, in the winding brick paths and ivy-covered buildings of virginia tech, that you met jane.  

jane had been everything you had secretly longed for. confident, smart, sharp-tongued in a way that made your stomach flutter. she is the only other woman of color on this side of campus.. besides you.

jane was the kind of girl who smoked cigarettes on dorm balconies, who read poetry with a knowing smirk, who pulled you into late-night conversations about philosophy and literature and the way women in books seemed to glow like something untouchable.  

you thought that your relatability with the woman would bring you closer to her.

however, jane had never been for you.  

you realized it too late.  

the confession had been a mistake.  

“i love you, jane,” you had said, your voice small, shaking.  

jane had laughed at first. like it was a joke.  

then you met her eyes, desperate, pleading. and everything shifted.  

jane’s face twisted, disgust flashing across her features so fast that you barely had time to process it.  

“you’re a freak.”  

the words hit like a slap.  

jane took a step back, as if you were something dirty, something unnatural.  

“i was not aware that you were a mentally ill lesbian,” she spat, voice dripping with venom.  

you couldn’t breathe.  

the words echoed. over and over and over.  

then everyone knew.  

the rumors spread like wildfire. whispers in the halls, lingering stares in the dining hall, notes left on your dorm room door with slurs you couldn’t bring yourself to read.  

your parents found out within the week.  

the disappointment in their voices was worse than the hatred.  

“what did we do wrong?” your mother sobbed into the phone.  

your father said nothing at all.  

it was over.  

there was nothing left for you here.  

so you left in the middle of the night, stuffing clothes into a bag, emptying the $1,000 you had saved into your pockets.  

you didn’t know where you were going. only that you had to go.  

after weeks of hitchhiking.. you ended up in san francisco.  

the city felt like something out of a dream. something that you have only heard about through newspapers. loud, sprawling, alive in a way virginia never had been.  

you settled into a tiny apartment on the north side of polk street, barely big enough to fit the life you were trying to rebuild.  

it wasn’t much. though it was yours.  

you found a job…secretary work, nothing glamorous, but enough to keep you afloat.  

the days blurred together. work, home, sleep.  

but the nights—  

the nights were different.  

—

tonight, the air is warm, thick with the scent of cigarettes and city life.  

you walk down polk street, the heels of your shoes clicking softly against the pavement. you’re tired from the day, your blouse slightly wrinkled, but something in your chest feels lighter than usual.  

you’re just two blocks from home when you see them.  

a group of men…laughing, smiling, holding hands.  

they’re beautiful. some of them are wearing pink, their faces painted with eyeliner and rouge. others are in silk blouses, skirts, heels taller than yours.  

they belong to each other.  

for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel so alone.  

you catch the eye of one of them, a boy with soft curls and glitter dusted over his cheekbones. you offer him a small smile, lifting your chin just slightly…subtle, but enough.  

a signal.  

me too.  

he grins, his gaze lingering with a smile just long enough before he turns back to his friends.  

you follow their laughter to the front of a bar.  

black cat bar.

you stare at the purple neon glowing sign, your fingers twitching at your sides.  

you’ve never been inside a place like this.  

maybe this is where you were supposed to go next.  

maybe this is where you will finally start to feel like yourself.  

you take a deep breath, stepping forward toward the line.  

little do you know—  

there is a woman just a few steps ahead of you, a woman in a dress, her dark hair falling just past her shoulders.  

a woman with nervous hands and hopeful eyes.  

a woman who has run just as far as you have.  

hyun ju.

next part linked here

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

It took 2 people to fully convince Crosshair to do a 180 on the Empire - but neither of those people were Bad Batch members.

They couldn't be. What would a squad of defective clones who had been disobeying orders since day 1 know about loyalty to an institution determined to establish order for the good of the galaxy? What would they know about finding purpose in being "good soldiers"?

Now, I DO think the seeds of Crosshair's eventual defection were planted by his brothers. Hunter pointing out that "Blind allegiance makes you a pawn" and then telling Crosshair "All you'll ever be to them is a number" are statements that are proven later to be true. But it takes Cody and Mayday to drive the lessons home.

Cody and Mayday share several characteristics that place them in unique positions to influence Crosshair:

Both are regs who accepted and befriended Crosshair - Cody says he specifically asked for Crosshair for the mission, and Mayday is upfront and friendly to Crosshair right from the start. (Contrast this to the other regs getting up to move tables when Crosshair sits to eat, or the other clone troopers who walk past Crosshair to get onto the shuttle without even sparing him a glance.)

Both are commanders. (I believe Crosshair ultimately respects authority for the most part: even when he was arguing with and challenging Hunter in "Aftermath," he still deferred to Hunter's orders until his inhibitor chip was intensified and he was then promoted to commander.)

Both are loyal soldiers who have served the Empire well - again, these regs are still commanders even under the new government. And we all know how important loyalty to the Empire is to Crosshair at this point.

Both save Crosshair's life during their missions.

In short, both are regs, but they are still soldiers Crosshair can quickly identify with and trust.

I think it's key that Crosshair encountered Cody before Mayday, though. And despite their similarities, both soldiers drive home different points.

CODY

Cody is one of the few regs we know Crosshair already respected - and still respects, given that Crosshair almost smiles when he recognizes him.

(Some proof in case it isn't apparent: Crosshair goes from frowny face...

...to relaxed almost-happy-if-you-squint-just-right face)

Anyway, while Cody does drop some hints early on that he has doubts about the Empire, he is willing to carry out the mission to rescue "Governor" Grotton, showing he will follow orders to a certain extent. However, he shows more restraint than Crosshair might have: he doesn't attack the civilians despite their obvious mistrust of the soldiers, he comes to an understanding with Tawni Ames, he's NOT willing to follow an order to execute her, and he is clearly dismayed and disappointed by her death.

And so, at the end of a "successful" mission, Cody more plainly reveals the depth of his dissatisfaction with following orders against one's own moral scruples:

Hunter had said "Blind allegiance makes you a pawn." And Cody, unwilling to blindly and unquestioningly be a pawn - or act like a battle droid - any longer, goes AWOL.

But that lesson alone isn't enough to make Crosshair turn on the Empire. Instead, he needs Mayday to give him the final push.

MAYDAY

First, Mayday indicates how appalled he is by the idea of anyone leaving their own behind - which we know is a sore spot for Crosshair. But most importantly, Mayday has demonstrated since he was first introduced that he strongly believes in soldiers being loyal to and looking out for each other (which is far different than just being loyal to the Empire).

Second, Mayday unknowingly challenges Crosshair's belief that serving the Empire provides meaningful purpose. (Remember that one of Crosshair's main arguments to his brothers about joining the Empire was so they could "find purpose again.")

Then, he unwittingly goes for the jugular and rips apart the motto Crosshair had adopted.

And then, in case Crosshair has any lingering doubts about the answer to Mayday's rhetorical question, Nolan decidedly answers the question for him.

Hunter had said "All you'll ever be to them is a number," and he is proven right in the most heartbreaking way.

Crosshair had accused his brothers of not being loyal to him; unfortunately, now he sees what true disloyalty looks like. And for Crosshair - severe and unyielding - realizing that he has misplaced his loyalty by giving it to an entity that mocks him and casts him AND those he cares about aside for doing so... this is the final straw.

Thankfully, Crosshair has now rediscovered the people who are worthy of his loyalty.