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bartokthealbinobat · 1 year ago

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Are We About to Kiss Right Now? (God No)

Ch. 7 of Brandy and the End of the World

word count: 1,844

tw:

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Still a little shaken from our run-in with the crazy lady, Justin starts to chatter again, talking at me constantly without leaving any openings for me to respond. I glower at him, staring daggers into the back of his head as though that will do anything to shut him up. Of course, he doesn’t even notice, and I wonder what he would do if I just turned around and went the other way, how long it would take him to notice that I was no longer there. He most likely would just keep going, talking to the air as though it was me and paying no mind to the emptiness behind him. I don’t think it would slow his roll for a few hours at least, and I toy with the idea of just stopping right then and seeing how long it would take before he would turn around. Of course, that would be a waste of time so I can’t, but it’s fun to think about.

“Brandy, have you ever thought about going into poker? You’ve got the face for it, and I’d love to see anyone try and focus on playing cards with you looking at them like that. I mean, you are just absolutely stone-faced, expression carved in marble if I’ve ever seen it. In fact, stony is a perfect way to describe you in general. Expression set in marble, eyes of obsidian, personality jagged like pumice.” Justin says when he finally does glance back at me. I scowl harder, sharing a meaningful look with the dog. We should be focusing on the road ahead, or making a plan about how we’re going to survive getting to milwaukee, but instead I’m listening to the biggest idiot I’ve ever met wax poetic about my face.

While singing a made-up ditty about me being like stone, Justin suddenly lets out a squeak, stopping so abruptly that I almost run into him, and I have to fight the urge to smack the back of his head.

“What?” It comes out sharper than I intend, and if I’m not mistaken a moment of hurt flashes across Justin’s face as he turns to look at me.

“It’s nothing,” His voice is oddly high-pitched, as if someone has just fed him helium, “just a-just a bug.” He gulps,glancing down at his feet briefly and then back at me.

I can feel my jaw slackening as I stare at him, and I no longer feel guilty about snapping at him. He can’t be serious, can he?

“Are you shitting me?” It’s the fucking apocalypse my man, bugs are the least of our worries right now. Also, earlier you tried to help a woman who was clearly out of her mind, so there should be no reason a creepy-crawly is more scary than that to you.

Justin just shakes his head, eyes bugging out like a fish as he refuses to blink. Sighing, I push past him just to see the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in my life, sitting atop a massive, glistening web that stretches all the way across the alley. Well, he forgot to mention the size of the bug, and the number of legs it has. I shudder a little upon noticing the multiple sets of eyes spread across the beast’s face. It wiggles its hairy little fangs and I take a step back, suddenly less willing to take care of the bug for Justin.

“W-well, you’re the guy so you should deal with it. Plus, it’s good for you, y’know? Exposure therapy, or something.” I stumble a bit over my words, gesturing emphatically as I speak. He remains unconvinced.

“Absolutely not. You deal with it, you're not the one that’s afraid of bugs.” Justin crosses his arms, the gesture feeling very final.

“Wimp.”

We look towards the spider again, and I will it to crawl away so we can sidle past, but it continues to stare at us, still in the middle of its web except for the occasional wiggle of its fangs, just to remind us that they’re still there. I sigh, shoving down a shudder as I step forward a bit. A glance back at Justin shows that he’s all but hyperventilating in a corner, and I wish I could do the same. I bite down on the inside of my cheek as I creep off to the side, staying as far away from the spider as possible. I reach one arm up and swipe away a bit of the web, holding my breath as I wait for a reaction. When nothing happens I pull away a little bit more, pausing again afterwords to watch for any sign of movement. Finally, feeling brave, I raise my arm up to slash through the rest of the web, but it is at that moment that the spider decides to scuttle towards me at lightning speed and I leap back with a yelp.

“Nope, no, absolutely not.” I shake my head as the spider turns back towards the middle of the web and settles back into position. It was too fast for my liking.

“Is there a way around?” I ask Justin.

“Yeah but it would add like a half an hour to go around this alley. A bunch of the streets around here are covered in rubble or impassable last time I checked.”

We stand there for a minute, at an impasse, and I try to figure out something else we could do. I start to look around for a stick, thinking maybe if I was a little further away I could do it, and at the same time the dog streaks up behind me, finally back from her exploring. She bounces right up to the web, sniffing around, and I start to reach for her.

“Oh, Pez-” The spider twitches and there is an audible snap as the dog’s jaws close around it. She crunches twice, swallows, and walks through the web as I stare in horror. Justin’s mouth is hanging open wider than his eyes as the dog shakes off the stickiness of the web and trots off. I look over at him, snap my mouth shut, and nod to myself. Pez is right, time to get a move on already. I swing my bag back over my shoulder and follow the dog, sliding past Justin to take the lead. We need to get to Milwaukee sooner rather than later.

Soon enough I fall behind Justin, letting him take the lead with his long strides as he mumbles to himself about spiders and dogs and venom. Pez trots happily back towards me, and I almost laugh. She just ate a spider, what a psychotic dog. Grinning to myself, I pick up a pebble and chuck it for her to chase after, which she does with glee. The pebble skitters to a stop inches away from a black boot, and Pez slides to a stop with a growl, turning tail as it becomes apparent who the boot is attached to. Or, rather what it is attached to.

I’m about to grab at Justin again, but luckily he’s aware of his surroundings for once, and he’s stopped as well. The zombie is young, frail, and… crying? She is sitting on a musty old bench, sobbing into her hands, and as the dog growls again, from much farther away now, she looks up at us.

“Help me” She whimpers, bloody bite marks running along her neck and arms.

“Justin, don't.” I command, stopping him in his tracks.

“Help,” she repeats with a sniffle, quieter this time. “Help me please.”

She wasn’t gone yet, but we had no idea how long before she turned if she wasn’t turning already. Justin looks at me, almost begging, and starts to try and convince me.

“Absolutely not, look at her.” I soften my voice a bit. “Look at her, Justin, it’s already too late for us to help her.” He starts to mutter again and I shake my head, keeping one eye on the girl as I do so. She’s already contagious, and we had no way of knowing if she was aggressive yet. The girl just collapsed into a sob again, curling her knees up to her chest. From behind her, however, came a grumble and I watch as the dog’s hackles rise next to me and she starts to back away. I know enough by now to trust the dog’s judgment, and I follow her in backing away as more zombies emerge from the shadows. Probably the ones that infected the girl, they are all definitely turned by now, rotting flesh nearly falling off the bone as they stumble towards us. We have unwittingly backed ourselves into a corner as the road behind us is blocked by cars and the crumbled remains of buildings, so I turn towards the zombies and pull out my knife flicking it open in one fluid motion as I prepare to fight my way out.

“Get ready to run.” I bark at Justin, and he just nods, arms hanging useless at his side. The dog is rumbling like an engine next to me, teeth bared and every bit as vicious as the first time I saw her, and even though she didn’t choose it I’m glad she’s there to lend a hand against the undead army in front of us. The thinnest patch of zombies is off to the left, but we need to go right so right it is. I grit my teeth, trying to slow my breathing a bit so I can focus. 3, 2, 1- I lunge forward and the dog follows, Justin close on our heels. I slice, shoving at zombies with my other hand as I sprint, and the dog snaps at every zombie in reach as we surge forward all together. As we fight through the horde, one grabs at my ankle and I fall, pants and knees ripping open against the pavement. Justin grabs under my armpits and, with a strength I didn’t know he possessed, yanks me back to my feet, shoving me back into a run. As we clear the last of them, I sprint ahead, heart pounding in my ears and sweat running down the back of my neck. Spotting an open door I pull Justin inside, shoving Justin into an empty closet and squishing in next to him, pulling the door shut around us as I try to slow my breathing. We are pressed up against each other in the small space and I can feel Justin’s chest expanding against me, his breath hot on my face. A beat, then Justin opens his big mouth once again.

“Are we about to kiss right now?” He slips an arm around my waist, face too close to mine. I almost huff out a laugh, shocked that he’s actually being funny for once, before I realize he wasn’t joking.

“Oh God no.” I shoulder him, hard, and cross my arms as I turn my face away, trying not to gag at the thought.

Author's Note: Oh Justin, you just can't take a hint can you?

-Bartok

tag list (comment if you want to be added!): @teigo-the-explorer

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catboy07-moved · 5 years ago

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Let me be whiney and then delete this later for a sec

#i have a school trip tomorrow #its a two day thing #and my mum says i have yo shave my legs just incase i do wanna shower #first of all #if u wanna shower u have to wear a swimsuit which #i only hav eone binder so i cant get it fucking wet cuz its a paim im the ass to find somewhere to let it dry #also #even if i do fucking shower #then its with all the girls and its like a big space with a lot of showers and uhhhhhh #um #i forgot where i was going with this #i dont wanna shave my legs #cuz im not even planning on showering #so #m wants me to shave cuz if i do shower then i dont want the girls to look at my hairy legs and say mean things to me #thats what ny mum thinks #now here i am #a simple bitch #who couldnt give less of a fuck about what people think of my body #and I'd rather not shave my legs just that some dumb bitches womt say shit about my legs #i don't care #im not shaving #fuck that #yeah im dramatic we veen knew shut up ok im gonna delete this later anyways let me have my moment

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borisdl · 4 years ago

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Short story part 2

There we were at the kitchen table in our poopy diapers with raging hardons looking at each other unable to speak.

Finally, he smiled and said, c’mon let me teach how to clean yourself up like man. Then he got up. From the back I could hardly believe how much he had pooped. His diaper looked so heavy that his jogging shorts it could barely stay up. Seeing me staring he said, yeah that was a massive dump. And then he walked with legs slightly spread toward the stairs.

As I followed him up the stairs his dirty diaper was right in front of my face. I could feel myself getting even harder though I was terrified of letting him see it.

His bedroom was big and at the far end was a large walk-in closet and bathroom. When we went in the closet area it turned out to be a small room with a built in changing table. The cover of the changing table was blue and had little yellow ducks on it which I thought were cute. Then I saw the shelves stacked to the ceiling with every imaginable type of diaper. Not just plain adult diapers but also ones with teddy bears and fire trucks, like toddler would wear. I was in awe.

He told me to climb onto the changing table and said he’d be right back. He went into the bathroom and pulled the door short. Even through the closed door I could tell he was masturbating in his diaper. The louder the noise got, the more excited I got. Soon I had my hand in my wet dirty diaper and was jerking off too. My cock erupted in less than a minute.

A few moments later the door opened and came out wearing only a very wet, heavily soiled adult diaper. Tapes straining under ther weight, it sagged midway down his muscular hairy thighs. The smell of his diaper was powerful but not offensive. It smelled manly and solid. Like him.

Gently he slid a disposable pad under me and undid the tapes on my diaper. As he opened the diaper my cock was still half hard and covered in fresh cum. Wow buddy, he said, you blew two massive loads. Looks like we’re more alike than different, you even got the Rossi family cock. They’re big but the bladder muscles are weak. My brothers outgrew diapers but I never did. I think I enjoyed them too much, he said.

He wiped my but clean and then told me to get up. I stood there naked and half hard as he hopped up on the changing table and rolled back. He said, now watch me, imma show you how dudes change their own diapers. With that he opened his diaper. His cock was even bigger and fatter than mine and absolutely covered in fresh cum. Then I saw the load. A perfectly formed huge mound of dark chocolate colored hard clay. Despite having sat in it, his hairy ass looked nearly clean. A couple of wipes later and he was done. He dropped the soiled diapers into a tall stainless steel trash an with a lid. Then we showered together in his large walk-in shower with two heads. He peed in the shower as he washed his ass laughing. He was like a big kid. Like it was all perfectly normal.

After we showered he said, it’s Saturday let’s go for a hike in the woods. I said okay and headed for room. Not so fast dude, you forgot your diaper, he said. What? I replied stammering, I don’t... he reached up, his heavy cock and balls swaying, and took down one of the teddy bear diapers laying it out flat. You’re going to need this, he said, trust me.

Compliantly I climbed back on the changing table, even lifted my legs like a toddler so he could put baby powder on my butt. Soon we were both diapered. He said he extra sweat pants and hiking boots I could wear si è we were nearly the same size.

I was worried people might see or hear the diapers but he told me not to worry. People don’t see what they don’t expect, he said. Besides, even if they do notice, who cares.

To be continued

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malebodysuittf · 4 years ago

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The Wrapping

In my last story, I wanted to write a dark thriller-ish story with a villainous protagonist, but I wanted this story to be a whole lot more wholesome (though still devious) for the holidays! It’s kind of silly and not as hot tbh, but hopefully it’s kind of fun for someone. It’s been one hell of a year, so here’s to a better 2021. Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays y’all! Stay safe, and make sure no one you’re close to is plotting to suitify you! ;)

edit: Oh crap, I totally forgot to post this yesterday! Here it is though, my message stays the same!

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I sighed as I listened to the mundane tapping of fingers on keyboards, nails hitting the desk, pens clicking. Over and over, my head rang with the same sounds throughout the morning. No one who was here wanted to be here. Except perhaps my boss. That piece of shit put us all to work instead of giving us the holidays off. Only reason he might be happy to be here is probably because, if his wife has been hearing any of the rumors regarding his interactions with the female employees of our company, I’m assuming their marriage is disastrous.

I thought I’d be able to relax at home, spend Christmas with my boyfriend, Craig. We’ve been together for a couple of years now, and this was our first year living together. Our first Christmas spent together. The last one, we had both flown home to see our parents, splitting up.

But of course, my piece of shit boss had called me up. Told me to come in and work...subtly threatened unemployment if I objected. I wanted to quit right then and there, but money was tight and I knew how much Craig and I could use the cash. I had to break the news to Craig, but he was understanding. He promised that we’d open up presents tonight, or we’d open them up tomorrow if I was too tired. It was heartwarming to hear the support loved one, but made the act of going to work the next day no less grueling.

“Hey Lance, you get that call from boss too?” I jumped at the sound of my name being called and turned to see my coworker and one of the few friends I’ve made in the office, Trevor. He was a good lookin’ guy, though he only had a frustrated face at the moment.

“Yeah. Fucking ridiculous.”

“Right? Sick of this fucking job. Frankly, I’m not even sure what I fucking do at this point,” he joked. A hint of a smile popped up on his face. He slapped me on the arm and got up, heading towards the bathroom. I closed my eyes and imagined what I’ll do with Craig. It was the only thing that could motivate me to keep up with my work.

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Hours later, the sun was setting and an orange hue painted the sky. It was a surprisingly beautiful sunset, considering it was Christmas. I finally finished my work. I watched the tired people around me cleaning up their desks, disgruntled and ready to go home. I glanced over at Trevor’s desk and noted he was still missing...weird. I hadn’t seen him the entire day ever since he left to go to the restroom. I guessed he had wisened up and just left. I sure as hell wish I could afford to...I know Trevor came from a pretty wealthy background. But at least I could finally find some respite with the end of the day approaching.

Until I saw the secretary walking to my desk.

She placed her hands on my desk and looked me in the eye, almost remorsefully.

“Mr. Campbell would like to speak to you.”

My heart sunk as I realized I’ll be spending more time in this shithole instead of celebrating the holidays with my boyfriend. I slumped in my chair and nodded to the secretary. She left me and I cleaned my act up. Surely it must be something quick, right? I couldn’t imagine him calling me in at the end like this for any reason.

Walking over to Mr. Campbell’s office, I opened the door and saw my dapper boss staring at me intimidatingly.

“Hello, Lance. I’m sure this little meeting may come as a surprise. Take a seat, won’t you?” He motioned towards a chair opposite from his desk, while seating himself in a larger one.

“I know you might be a little confused as to why I called you in. But let me assure it’s nothing bad.” He smiled at me, something I had never seen before on his face. He always looked menacing and unwelcoming. But right in this moment, something seemed different.

“I just wanted to give you this for being an outstanding part of this office. You’ve always been productive and loyal to this business. You deserve proper compensation. Especially for coming in on Christmas.”

From behind his desk, he pulled out a fairly large box, wrapped in a snowman-covered paper, perhaps the size of my torso, and slid it across the desk. I cautiously took the box, wondering what the catch was. There was no way he decided to just randomly give me this out of kindness or gratefulness. Not Mr. Campbell. This is the abusive boss who makes people work on Christmas, threaten their jobs and their records, and, allegedly, numerous women have quit and spoken up on him firing them if they did not oblige to sexual favors. On top of that, why the hell is he only giving this to me? Still, he was my boss for now, and I had to appeal to him.

“...Er, thanks, Mr. Campbell. I appreciate the gift. I’ll make sure-”

“Why don’t you open it?”

“Right here? Right now?”

“Yes. Open it. I want you to see it.”

Confused, I still obeyed and started to rip the wrapping paper off. I glanced up to give the boss an acknowledging smile as I lifted the lid up. I found a folded up suit and tie, along with pants.

“Clothing, Mr. Campbell?” I tried to feign gratitude with a hesitant smile.

“Keep going.”

I lifted the clothing and saw an ID on top of a peach colored object. On the ID, I saw a picture of...Trevor. A chill ran across my spine as I felt the peace colored object...it felt like skin. I pulled it out and lo and behold...it was Trevor in the form of a flimsy suit.

“Is this some kind of...costume?” The thing gave me the creeps, but I couldn’t defy my curiosity.

“You could say that.”

“Was that...you earlier then?”

A grim glare shot across Mr. Campbell’s face. “No.”

“Then...what did you do to Trevor?” My voice quivered as a ton of horrific scenes ran through my head.

“It was just an injection. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” He pulled out what looked like pink stickers. “All you do is slap these magic tags on, and he’ll be restored within an hour. Sorry to alarm you.”

A sigh of relief escaped my mouth, until Mr. Campbell said, “Why don’t you put him on right now?”

“What? Right here? I don’t even know-”

“Take your clothes off. Stretch open the mouth. You can figure out the rest.”

Something told me I didn’t have a choice. I laid the suit on the floor and started to pull out of my clothing, tossing it over the chair. I grabbed the Trevor suit and dipped my toes into the mouth. Surprisingly, it was soft and comfortable. I slipped into the legs and did a few test jumps. Mr. Campbell observed closely as the suit matched my form. I squeezed my way into the rest of the suit before pulling the face over my own, before a painful ache rushed through my body. Suddenly, a lifetime of memories flooded my mind. I recalled feeling a prick in the neck before everything went black...I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to Mr. Campbell.

“Is there something you would like me to do with this?” Trevor’s voice escaped my throat! It was like I was him entirely. But why did Mr. Campbell want me in this suit? I was confused on what to do now. I stood there awkwardly, naked with an admittedly sexier body. Mr. Campbell walked around his desk and came up to me.

“Why don’t you unwrap your second present?” He grabbed my crotch, though I immediately relented and backed up.

“I’m sorry Mr. Campbell, but I’ve got a boyfriend, and frankly, this is a little weird...”

“Don’t you want to provide for him?” I gulped, knowing my job was on the line. Craig would understand, he always does.

I started to unbutton Mr. Campbell’s jacket and slid it off of him. The white button-up was already partially open, displaying the man’s hairy chest. Despite how awful my boss was, I confessed I considered him an attractive man. I pulled off the shirt and was down to his pants. I looked at him, unsure if he wanted me to go all the way. He nodded, urging me to take it all off. I unbuckled his belt and slid it out, the pants visibly loosened and slipped down with ease. I looked up for another nod of approval before removing his shoes and socks, smelling the subtle rankness of his feet. Finally, i slipped his underwear down, and a lengthy member dropped in front of me. I examined the man in front of me, up and down. Were these the kind of sexual favors my boss wanted? Was he interested in men?

“Why don’t you keep going?”

I raised an eyebrow at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Keep going.” He walked closer to me, sensually looking me in the eye.

I couldn’t quite grasp what he meant, until he tugged at his cheek, revealing something else inside. I rubbed Mr. Campbell’s face and he closed his eyes, groaning in pleasure. Slowly tracing down his face, I hooked my fingers under his lips and started to stretch the mouth open. I could feel the scruffy facial hair move under my fingers as I tugged at his face, the face distorting as a familiar face was revealed under Mr. Campbell’s face.

“Craig?” I was absolutely speechless as I slipped off the entire face of my boss. The upper half of the face landed in a heap behind him, while the chin lay across his chest. I backed up in shock at the spectacle before me!

Craig gave me a devious smile and started to rip the skin off of himself. Still using Mr. Campbell’s hands, he grabbed at the mouth around his neck and started to pull. As he did, the skin started to give, and he started to rip it off, like wrapping. Truly like a Christmas gift! The face split in half and he tugged towards his left arm. With a forceful motion, the arm sleeve ripped right off and he tossed it towards onto the desk, the fingers hanging over the side as they flopped around. He continued to rip the other side off as the suit seemingly got shredded. With the torso hanging over his hip, the torn up skinsuit hung onto the cock in pieces, the face hanging by the side while the right hand of the suit laying flatly on the ground. Craig heaved as he pulled the rest of it off violently, further shredding the skin until it lay as a mess on the floor. He picked up it and slung the mangled skinsuit onto the desk.

“Merry Christmas, babe!” He held me by my hips and kissed me.

“Craig, what the hell is this?”

“I bought us some of these serums, and figured they would make a nice gift. I didn’t originally plan to use it on these guys in specific, but when you got that call and told me about your shitty boss...I figured we could get a bit of revenge. Plus, you’ve told me about Trevor being hot. So I figured, why the hell not?”

“But what about Mr. Campbell? You ripped him up!”

“Don’t worry, trust me, some tape and those little sticker things he showed...he’ll be back. And he’ll be humbled.”

He went back behind the desk and pulled out a paper and slid it over to me. I skimmed through it...this was a document giving the company to me!

“Oh my God! What the fuck? This is...”

“Yep. I always said you’d make a great leader. And whenever your coworkers come by to hang out with us, you have no clue what they say about you. They’re gonna love you. And Mr. Campbell over here, signed the document. Hopefully, he takes the time off to reimagine himself as a better man. All you gotta do is sign it yourself.” He rolled a pen over and I held it within my hand. I scoured through Trevor’s thoughts, and he had said some of the sweetest things about me, and his conversations with our colleagues suggested that maybe I could be the one to make this shithole better. I brought the pen to the paper and voila, my signature was on it.

“You get to be the boss now, Lance.” Craig got up and came to embrace me. I was too stunned at everything happening to give him much of a response. “You can make this place so much better next year. But for now, why don’t we enjoy that sexy suit you’re in?” He started to kiss me, and I returned the favor. I pulled back for a second and looked Craig in the eyes.

“This is the best Christmas ever...Why don’t I give you my present now?” I gave him a suggestive look, rubbing up against against him. I pushed him down across the desk and whispered into his ear, “I love you, babe. Merry Christmas.”

#male skinsuit #male bodysuit #male transformation #christmas special #male tf #boss

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mrskurono · 4 years ago

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a/n: so my second covid shot has got me feeling a little exhausted and tired, so have these headcanons bc I'm self indulgent and can't think rn

tags: fluff, PCOS (polycystic ovaries), mentions of body dysmorphia, female body hair

character(s): Hanamaki Takahiro (hq), Matsukawa Issei (hq), Iwaizumi Hajime (hq), Kageyama Tobio (hq), Hinata Shoyou (hq), Bokuto Koutarou (hq), Kindaichi Yuutaro (hq), Atsumu Miya (hq), Suna Rintarou (hq)

Haikyuu!! Men + Your PCOS

;| Iwaizumi |; When Iwa sees you haven’t shaved for a few days, and the five o’clock shadow might have set in, this man takes a big ol’ sigh of relief. He in all seriousness doesn’t mind your facial hair and has expressed that multiple times that anyway you want to wear it will never offend him in the slightest. Often not shaving along side with you (and his hair is coarse and a pain to deal with razor burn so when you said your skin is irritated from shaving Iwa 100% gets it) Often likes to rub along your jawline when it’s a little scruffy and kiss it if you let him.

;| Hanamaki |; This man seems tactile and I can’t explain why. He likes it. A lot. Facial hair. Leg hair. Arm hair. He always hauls your legs up on his lap and tends to rub little circles along your unshaven bits without question. Even at the begining of the relationship. It’s almost mindless and calming to him to do it. Often touching without entirely thinking you might not like it but Makki listens well if you ask him not to touch or your particularly sensitive about your heavier hair growth

;| Matsukawa |; If this makes sense, Mattsun loves it when you don’t shave. Nothing sexual. He feels like then he can put down the razor for a bit without making it weird. He’s a clean shaven dude most the time but the second it seems you’re letting your skin breath he is right there with you “We can match.” Is his favorite word choice bc you have found no one will back talk a 6′ something funeral worker when you guys are out together

;| Kageyama |; my Poor idiot his sister is a hairstylist so he sees most people as their well groomed selves (sure he’s seen some ladies with red upper lips from waxing and such but honestly Kags never makes the connection when he goes to get his haircut. Just assumes it’s something that happens in the “fancy” rooms, aka what he calls the aesthetics rooms) So he’s a little surprised the first time he drops by without warning and goes to kiss you but you shy away. Goes through an entire list of reasons in his head why you might be mad but finds you rubbing your face apologizing (this is when he tunes in bc it seems important) and you apologize for not knowing he was coming so your unshaven. Suddenly a light bulb after all those years. Kags is quick to tell you he doesn’t care. Spouts off something about loving you but he’s so bad with words. So he stops and asks what makes you comfortable. Need to pop into the bathroom and shave? He’ll wait. You wanna let him touch it and maybe not be weirded out by it? Man will cup your face and kiss you 100% ok with it

;| Hinata |; Your facial hair isn’t advertised but the lack of facial hair on Hinata is. Jfc he is smooth as can be until maybe his 30s. So you try and keep it up too without him knowing but Hinata just...has no boundaries. Probably found out when he was gonna “hop in the shower” with you unprompted and sees you mid shave. Poor man, first thing out of his mouth is something stupid “Man I wish I had enough to shave.” God, shit hits the fan, Hinata immediately regrets it. He didn’t mean it like that and honestly when you talk it out (and your hiding it) Hinata is so serious about the fact he doesn’t care. In fact finds it endearing. Makes it feel intimate actually and Hinata offers to not bring it up again or learn more. It’s rocky but he’s really got the spirit he just puts his foot in his mouth sometimes

;| Bokuto |; Another who puts his foot in his mouth. Well at least Bokuto is hairy himself. So when he thinks about borrowing one of your razors (your last one) to shave a large area of himself. Effectively making it dull and NOT something you want to use on your face. The little bit of a secret comes out. Bokuto is confused why you shave bc even he goes longs stints with seeing how long it gets. You try to explain to him it makes you more comfortable to be clean shaven. He won’t argue but he does reaffirm the fact sometimes your skin can breath and he’ll love you all the same...oh, and he’ll scribble on a piece of paper to put in his wallet what razors you prefer bc honestly that was the best shave he’s ever had he sees why you use them

;| Kindaichi |; Probably the most tender about it. You don’t exactly hide it, Kindaichi just doesn’t push a lot of boundaries so bathroom etiquette stays stringent for a while in your relationship. When he does get comfortable enough he has a habit of always changing out your razor when it looks dull. He might note that it goes dull a lot for someone who he thought had no hair. But once when you refuse to kiss him and Kindaichi thought he did something wrong, he realizes you won’t really let him look at your face. Finally getting it out of you that you hadn’t shaved. Then it hits him, he forgot to switch out your razor which meant it was a dull one in there. Kindaichi in good Kindaichi fashion apologies profusely and that it’s his fault. Your embarrassed but he really does feel bad for it. So when he asks for a kiss you can’t say no and he doesn’t hesitate to kiss your scruffy cheek and smile at you. You might shave a little less now seeing how good he is around your five o’clock shadow

;| Atsumu |; Sometimes when you have a brother and raised with just boys you say stupid things. Less of a foot in mouth situation like Hinata, Atsumu will accidentally make comments about beards and leg hair and the sorts like he’s talking to Osamu and not his s/o. He means nothing by them but you don’t know that until you have to confess on canceling a few dates recently bc you felt bad about your own facial hair. That’s the second it hits Atsumu like a brick wall that he says some stupid shit. Man breaks out the candy, flowers, letters, stops shaving himself, really works it all up to apologize to you. But really it takes a quiet discussion between the two of you when you ask if he thinks you’re gross all these years and Atsumu may or may not accidentally ask you to marry him bc he loves no one like he loves you

;| Suna |; He knows right off the back. Suna knows you shave. It doesn’t feel the same as unshaven skin (he’s touched too many Miya legs to know this shit) He won’t say anything though. Not bc he wants to see you trip up and expose your secret. But bc he doesn’t care. He knows you have a hard time spending the night at his house for this reason so once when he was grocery shopping Suna picked up the brand of razors he saw in your trash bin + his favorite shave cream and left them in the bathroom for you to see. Something so sweet about it and so Suna. He doesn’t even look up from his phone when you come out and kiss him. He’ll just smooch your cheek and tell you the choice is yours. Just to let him know when you need more so he can pick it up

#threethoughts #hq!!#hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq writing #haikyuu writing #iwaizumi hajime #hanamaki takahiro #matsukawa issei #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #bokuto #kindaichi yuutarou #atsumu miya #suna rintarou

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mxpseudonym · 4 years ago

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Hungry For It

Pairing: Alfie x Reader

Gender Expression: Gender Neutral!

Summary: You finally coax Alfie into letting you please him like this, and you’re not going to let him hold back.

Length: 1342 words (allegedly)

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, cursing, dirty talk, deep throating/fallatio, “daddy” is used thrice, but this isn’t really a daddy kink situation... exactly

A/N: I’m so happy I could make this gender neutral so we all can be sluts for Alfie Solomons... together 🥺

"Breathe, darling."

Fuck, you always forgot that part. You took a shaky half breath through your nose as he pulled you off. You looked up at Alfie with dark eyes peaking through damp eyelashes. For someone who had to be coaxed into this, he was doing quite well at ordering you about.

You leaned back in for more, but Alfie held you with a firm first on your hair.

"Ah, ah, treacle. Take a second, won't you? One of us has got to protect that pretty throat of yours, yeah?"

Alfie nods to a glass of water off to the side then looks at the ceiling. He had to collect himself every now and again.

"Ain't a youngin' anymore, y/n," he said.

Not that you minded. You were in your apartment, and yet Alfie dominated the space. He was big and brawny, and nothing, not even him sitting naked in your kitchen chair like this, made him any less intimidating.

You took a sip from the glass while looking him over from your place on your knees between his legs.

What a man.

Alfie was a hairy, heavily tattooed man with muscles and a limp leftover from the war. He scared most people, your friends included. Yet, there wasn't a day you didn't want to be between his thick thighs one way or another. And that cock. Oh yes, it was what you were here for. It was thick and on the longer side. It made you drool just thinking about it.

Alfie's experience and ability alone made you want to earn his one release.

When Alfie let you, you swirled your tongue around his tip, taking a moment to appreciate the salty precum beading at the top. You took him in your mouth, bobbing a few times before taking it all. Your tongue laid against the underside of his shaft, opening yourself up to take more. You took a breath through your nose.

Alfie rutted into your mouth.

"Shit," he growled at the feeling.

This was new to him too. He never wanted to hurt you. He'd rather have harm come to himself than have that happen. But you moaned so desperately around him just when he did something he thought was too far.

Your mouth was hot around him, and the back of your throat massaging his head was bringing primal sounds out of the baker. You felt him get harder and twitch while he was inside of you. It made you feel good, accomplished, like working hard to please him was paying off. You wanted to stay down on him for at least a twenty count, and you were just about there.

Alfie let you up again, and you felt determined. It took a few asks, serious talk about precautions, and a set of rules to even make Alfie comfortable enough to do this with you. This was your third "session," and he loved it too, but you wanted him to stop holding back. You knew that Alfie had it in him to be a little mean. Spit dripped down Alfie's balls as you gasped for air. You took him in your hand and started stroking him steadily.

"Look at you, you're just a messy little harlot, ain't ya?" Alfie chuckled, his words still breathy. Desire shot straight to your lower belly at the filthy talk, and you loved it. That was something Alfie had picked up quickly. "Let's see it."

You looked up at him as a sniveling mess. Your face was all hot, and tears stained your cheeks. Your lips were a bit swollen and puffy now too. Alfie almost came right then. His disbelief led to him laughing and shaking his head at you.

"Fuckin' hell, you're hungry for it, ain't ya?" He asked, grasping his cock at the base in his hand. You licked your lips, unable to take your eyes from it.

"Yes, Sir," you said, amused at Alfie's smirk. You were still trying out names for him. Boss, captain, master- none had turned him on yet, but you'd find it. You always did. Alfie rubbed his head over your lips until you were whining in desperation. "Please let me have your cock, Alfie."

Alfie slowly wrapped his fingers around your chin in a firm grasp.

"You got a filthy mouth," Alfie said, his voice lower now. You moaned, looking up at him. This was it. This was Alfie Solomons taking the lead. He brought two fingers from his other hand up and wet them in his mouth before bringing them to your lips. Your eyes widened a bit, but your mouth dropped open with no hesitation.

Alfie Solomons slid his thick fingers over your tongue. You sucked on them, giving it your all even though he certainly knew what you were capable of. A moan left you when Alfie prodded even farther. He was force-feeding you his fingers, pushing in and out, prepping you for the real thing. His thick fingers pressed further into your mouth, making your eyes watered again. You groaned around his fingers, never breaking contact until he pulled out.

"Filthy little whore indeed," he said. To your surprise, Alfie wiped his hand on your cheek, and you felt your arousal spike.

"For you, daddy," you agreed.

There it was.

Alfie's eyes darkened at the word. Daddy. You supposed he was a caretaker, couldn't do a damn thing without his heart being in it.

"All I want is your cock. Can you fuck my mouth, daddy?" You asked, spurring him more even through your sniveling.

You opened your mouth with a moan, and Alfie took in a breath. If you weren't the most beautiful creature he'd seen, he wasn't sure he'd ever lay eye on whatever was better.

You were on his cock again, and you made sure to let him know how much you wanted it. You hummed around him and moaned, earning grunts from your burly man. You swallowed him for your twenty counts but pulled back, only to take a full inhale before going back in.

"That's it, darling. Take all of me, love," Alfie encouraged through clenched teeth.

He watched himself disappear into your mouth again, only to be released slicker and wetter than before. Alfie was almost lost in a trance when you put your hand over the one he used to cup your head. You motioned that you wanted him to push your head down, to guide you. You wanted him to fuck your throat as well as you knew he could.

"Fuck," Alfie all but shouted as he gave in.

He pulled you off of him, and you were almost disappointed until you saw he was simply adjusting in the chair. Closer to the edge, he could effectively thrust into your throat while moving your head down onto him.

You could hear the sloppy squelches and feel the saliva slipping down your neck. You gagged every now and then, which only encouraged Alfie. The caring man found himself letting go a bit. He trusted you just as much as you trusted him. If you needed the back away, you'd slap his thigh three times like you agreed. Until then, your jaw slacked, and your hands gripped his muscular thighs as he thoroughly fucked you.

This was perfect. This was everything.

Alfie's grunts got louder until he pulled you down entirely on his cock. Your nose squished against his pelvis, and he rutted into your throat deeper still, sending rope after rope of his come down your throat. You gave a loud guttural moan before he released you.

You took audible, ragged gulps of air while grounding yourself. The exhilarating outcome of teasing Alfie had left you a bit lightheaded. You looked up at Alfie, though, and he only chuckled. He patted your head softly.

"That what you wanted?"

You only moaned and nodded. You felt a little used and overall happy. Alfie grabbed a cloth and cleaned your face then pushed you towards the bed.

"Good, now let's see you strip, treacle. I want to taste ya."

#Alfie Solomons #Alfies Solomons Imagine #Alfie Solomons Smut #Peaky Blinders Smut #Peaky Blinders Imagine #dom!alfie solomons

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potatotrash0 · 3 years ago

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Hey idk if youve done this alreadh but im curious about your body headcanons for the sdr2 cast!! An anon sent some in for characters previously (the one where they said things like angie has vitiligo and stuff-i love them and they really stuck with me haha) and i wanna know your headcanons!! :D

Hmhmm this one I might be listing off the spot lmao. I feel like my hcs are mostly just. Common hcs but hey I never said I wasn’t basic skdjksjdks

cw for. Everyone. Yeah kdjfksjdks

Hajime…..I like to think he’s slightly buff? Maybe that’s not the right word. Toned? Idk, I hc that he jumps around hobbies a lot because he wants to find something he’s good at, so that includes sports. I like the idea that a few stick with him, like swimming and basketball. I imagine he also has light scrapes and scars on his legs from falling, both with skateboarding and general Clumsy Shit.

Also this one switches a lot but with Trans Hajime, I can see him with top surgery scars.

Oh ah, I like freckled Hajime!! It’s cute. This one goes with the sports hc, but I like the idea that he’s kinda tanned. Entirely unrelated but I also like the idea that he has calluses from playing guitar.

Chiakiii!! She’s soft bc I said so. Specifically her thighs, arms and stomach + some stretch marks. And moles all over. Projecting big time onto a cute fictional girl, call that self care <333 /j

uhh other than that, I imagine she has bags under her eyes from staying up late gaming. Also tan Chiaki my love. Shh I know she probably doesn’t go outside for days on end. In my defense I tan easily and I imagine she does too. Again with the projection. Shhhh

Oh oh!!!! I forgot to mention but!!!! Chiaki gets a ton of moles. I saw the boob mole and went !!!!!! fellow mole haver!!!!!! and went nuts. This is the one weird niche entirely irrelevant thing that can get me to like a character, just. Being able to point at them and jump up and down with joy over them also having moles. Idk why it’s just therapeutic <33

Nagito’s bony. Skinny mf. Could probably cut cheese with his elbows. Maybe grate it on his collarbones. Cuddling with him would be a fight to see if you can find a position that doesn’t end with something poking you in the gut. I mean this affectionately, he’s bony as shit but he’s my bony fucker <3

Pale asf, sunburns if he’s in the sun for more than two minutes. His eye bags could hold the entirety of his life’s trauma. Sharpest features ever. Sometimes I hc that he looks greasy, and other times I hc that he looks ethereally pretty in a ghostly way. Either way he always looks like he’s had the soul sucked out of him by a Dementor.

You can probably definitely see the veins in his hands. They’re. Very There. Also I’ve brought this up before but he definitely has big ass hands. L a r g e hands, all the better to head pat you with. This was originally so much more pining but I decided no I’ve exposed myself enough on this blog skfjksjdkd

Oh last minute thing, I think he’d be tall as fuck. Specifically 6’0 or taller. Also he probably (definitely) has at least a few scars from his childhood, particularly that plane crash. And I like to think he has glasses when he’s older. I’m so sorry that his section is so long I have so many thoughts about him ;;;;;

Okay uhh Imposter? Mmm. Idk actually. I do think they’d have callused fingers but soft hands. Probably from having to adapt to using a ton of different talents for their Imposter Agenda. Also stretch marks probably, all over their body.

Teruteru uhhhhh. God. Can you tell I don’t think about some characters ;;;;; Idk I don’t have much that differs from canon. I like him. Oh but he probably has cook hands? Chef hands, whatever you wanna call them. Probably faint scars from cuts and burns from when he was still learning how to cook from his mama.

Mahiru……hmm well freckles obviously dkjfksjd. I think she’s tanned as well since I feel like she likes sunlit shots. Idk I don’t have much. I like to think she’s got a stockier body type though.

Also not necessarily her body but I like her with an undercut!

Peko’s buff <3 it’s canon <333 /j

N ee way yeah. Buff Peko my love. Also she probably has a few scars from handling her sword when she was younger and less experienced. I also feel like she would have contacts she wears when she trains bc fuck exercising with glasses

I don’t really have anything for Hiyoko until she gets her growth spurt. Afterwards, I imagine she’s tall and kinda thin? Mainly bc of fast metabolism probably, though when she’s older maybe she’d be a little less spindly.

I don’t know if her hair would be bleached or not, but if it were, I like the idea of her letting her actual hair color grow in. If not, I think Ibuki might help her try a few sections of dyed hair? Idk I just like the thought

Ibuki is a fellow bony bitch. I mean this lovingly. She’s skin and bone. Skeleton rocker lady

Probably tan, I imagine she spends a lot of time in the sun. She strikes me as a summer person. Oh, I also saw some art of Black Ibuki with vitiligo and loved that!! Also calluses from shredding guitar, obviously

Hmmm I like the idea that she rollerskates? So possibly some bruises or scars on her arms or legs from falling on concrete when she was still learning. Oh oh I imagine she has a ton of piercings!!! On her ears, nose, lips, brows, tongue, belly button…….maybe she has a split tongue too idk. Also she totally gets a ton of tattoos when she’s outta Hope’s Peak, prove me wrong.

Mikan uhhh. I like tall Mikan. She deserves the height. 5’8 to 6’0 Mikan good 👍

Hmm she probably has scars all over, particularly on her arms and legs. Uh. Idk I imagine she’s curvy probably. What do I say for her I don’t have anything skjdksjdks

I’m not even gonna lie I don’t have a damn thing for Nekomaru. Or. Wait nevermind here’s a concept: buff Nekomaru but like. If you’ve seen those wrestlers who have fat on them that hides some fucking crazy strength? Yeah that’s him. Also hairy asf.

Gundham……tall vampire vibes. I’d say he’s a stick but also I feel like he’s the slim type of muscular. Idk how to describe it. Shigaraki type muscle? Male gymnast. No nevermind those guys have visible muscle. Shigaraki type it is

Hmmm I think this is canon but probably a few scratches from his pets. His arms and legs mainly but I’m sure the Devas have scratched up his neck at some point or another. Just a little though. Also piercing fiend Gundham my beloved. I also like him having a couple tattoos when he’s older. Ibuki probably helped him heheh

I’m torn between Fuyuhiko being skinny as shit and Fuyuhiko being tiny and buff. I like both………hhh

His hair is probably bleached. Peko probably helps him re-dye it when his roots start growing in. I also like him having glasses

Uhhh tooth gap Fuyu’s cute. I used to have a super small one before I got my braces, I imagine it’s the same for him. Him, Ibuki, and Gundham are probably Tattoo Buds.

Kazuichi…..I want so bad to say he’s a weakling just to make fun of him but he’s a mechanic that probably works with heavy machine parts a lot and he probably has some sick biceps. But he probably also smells like hair dye, oil, metal, and Monster Energy. Win lose situation I guess.

I like to think he has a couple piercings? Not as many as Ibuki, but maybe he’s got like. Second or third place in the class. Also he totally filed his teeth to be sharp like that

Akane!! Buff lady, could probably deadlift me or something. She’s definitely got some scars from running around, especially when she was first learning parkour. Ummm oh, I like to think she has a chipped tooth or smth like that from falling roughly as a kid.

Soniaa <33 in my heart she will always be tall and have at least some muscle. Novoselic is a war country if I remember correctly, she’s definitely got some military training in her.

Idk why but her with heterochromia just popped into my head. That pretty greenish blue gray that she has + maybe brown or hazel? I think that’d be cool. And hip dips.

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mustardyellowsunshine · 3 years ago

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You Are My Shelter, Chapter 4 Teaser

It was just his gods-cursed luck today, wasn’t it?

“The fuck are you doing here?” Inuyasha asked, easing out of his defensive posture and eyeing the squat imp before him with distaste.

Jaken’s piss-colored eyes narrowed at the unmistakable sneer in Inuyasha’s voice. “Lord Sesshōmaru has sent me to collect your report, half-breed. What information have you?”

A faint but distinctly unpleasant sensation coiled in Inuyasha’s gut, mirrored in his frown as he said, “Information? What ‘information’?”

The toad scowled, making a sound that was half huff, half squawk. “Do not waste my time, mongrel! What information have you collected on the peasant woman? Lord Sesshōmaru requires a complete report, and tasked me especially with learning all you have discovered of her powers.”

Inuyasha’s frown deepened. Shit. Sesshōmaru was ready for information on Kagome, was he? Eager enough to send his lackey for it. He shouldn’t be surprised. It had been over a month since The Asshole sent him to Musashi. Inuyasha was probably lucky that he hadn’t been summoned back to the castle yet, given how long he’d been here. Odd how lately he’d stopped noticing the passing time, less rankled by it than he had been at the start.

Jaken made a grunting sound of impatience. “Well, mongrel? Speak!”

“Better watch that tone, toad.” Inuyasha flexed his fingers, knuckles cracking in clear warning. “I ain’t in the mood.”

“And my Lord is in no mood to wait any longer on a vital report! Surely even the likes of you has discovered something worth reporting.”

Too swiftly for Jaken to react, Inuyasha yanked his staff out of his hand and knocked it none-too-gently against his head. The imp cursed loudly, levelling a menacing glare at the half-demon.

Something to report? Inuyasha’s mind crowded with everything he had observed of Kagome, each risk she posed unfolding before him like a map: the first time he met her and she obliterated a yōkai with one hand; the scorching white-pink light that accompanied the release of her power; her ability to sense his yōki despite her obvious lack of training; her isolation from the other villagers, their apparent fear of her. All information that Sessōmaru could potentially capitalize on. Inuyasha didn’t fully guess The Asshole’s purpose in keeping watch on Kagome, but the very fact that he was interested in her power was enough. Who knew what the bastard could make of the little information Inuyasha had been able to get?

Then altogether different images unfurled before him. Kagome screaming up at him from the ground, red-faced and unafraid; her clumsiness with a bow; her smile, soft in the dim light of dawn; the sensation of her fingers on his ears; the terrified glance she shot him as she ran from the spider; her small hand clutching at his sleeve; the sound of his name from her mouth.

He grit his teeth, stomach going sour.

He’d barely scratched the surface, but it was already obvious that Kagome had the potential to be either a boon or a very real threat to them. And if she didn’t turn out to be ‘of use’ in the Asshole’s estimation, then she was automatically a threat. If not now, then in the future. Even if she herself intended no harm, her power could still cause it, either from lack of control or from someone else exploiting it.

Someone like Sesshōmaru. Someone like Naraku. Someone who would see her as “useful” and nothing else. Who wouldn’t care if her “usefulness” also meant her death.

The sourness in his stomach sharpened, and he tensed his muscles against the sudden urge to fidget, to pace or start running—to shake off the sense of constriction clogging his throat, the sense that his options were narrowing: feed Sesshōmaru the information he wanted and help ensure their advantage at the likely expense of Kagome; or try to protect her with his silence.

Kagome. The woman who was at best a potential risk, and at worst a walking liability.

Another outraged squawk rang in his ears, and his attention was abruptly forced back to the glaring toad at his feet.

“You vermin!” Jaken shouted, jumping up to take his staff away from Inuyasha, who only lifted it higher out of his reach. “You wretched mutt! Lord Sesshōmaru will hear of this!”

“Yeah? Almost makes me feel sorry for the bastard.”

With that, Inuyasha cocked back his arm and flung the two-headed staff away—it spun end-over-end through the air, disappearing between the trees. With a cry, Jaken whirled to run after it, but he’d barely taken two steps before Inuyasha grabbed a fistful of his robes and lifted him up.

“Unhand me!” yelped the toad, squirming and kicking his legs. “How dare you treat me with such—”

“Shut it,” Inuyasha growled, twisting the imp around until they faced each other. “Now listen good. You can tell my bastard brother that I don’t have anything on the miko yet. She’s been locked away in that human village.”

Jaken’s eyes narrowed as he inhaled sharply and opened his mouth; but whatever shrill outburst he intended was cut off by Inuyasha cracking his knuckles right in front of Jaken’s nose. “And before you start squawking, I’ll remind you that Sesshōmaru told me to watch the miko, not make contact—if that’s changed, he should fucking well say as much. I can’t do shit trying to watch from a distance, especially when the woman is no better than a hermit.”

Inuyasha dropped the imp to the ground, where he landed on his rump with a shout. Crossing his arms over his chest, Inuyasha raised a brow at Jaken and said, “So until Lord Asshole has something new to say, beat it.”

“Why you—you—!” Jaken jumped to his feet and rushed at Inuyasha, small fists swinging as though they could do anything more than tickle. Inuyasha simply planted the ball of his foot against Jaken’s forehead, effortlessly deflecting him as the imp kept trying to land a punch. Sighing, Inuyasha gave the toad’s head a push, which sent Jaken stumbling back. Wiping his foot against the ground as though to scrape off grime, Inuyasha began turning away. “Later, toad.”

He stopped, however, when the corpse of the spider demon caught his eye again. “Aw, fuck,” he muttered to himself, “can’t believe I forgot that.”

His ear flicked back as it caught Jaken’s shouting from behind him. “Mark my words, Lord Sesshōmaru will have your head for this indignity, half-breed!”

Inuyasha paused, considering the spider corpse before glancing back at Jaken. “How ‘bout a leg, instead?”

Marching up to the spider, Inuyasha grasped one of its hairy legs in both hands; then with an almighty wrench, he jerked his arms back and the leg snapped off where it met the body, a nasty squelching sound filling the air. With a grunt, Inuyasha then tore the leg in half—an uncomfortable shiver creeping up his spine at the total lack of any scent from it, despite the fluids and innards oozing from it now—reducing it to roughly the size of his forearm. Satisfied, he turned to Jaken—who was watching him with narrowed eyes—and tossed one of the halves to him. Jaken yelped, but managed to catch the leg against his body; it was taller than he was.

“Take that to Sesshōmaru,” Inuyasha said, “and tell him to take a good long sniff. Tell him it came from a yōkai hunting down the miko.”

The imp looked at the hairy spider leg in his arms as though it would rear up and bite him.

“That should keep the bastard busy for awhile,” Inuyasha muttered on a low growl. Then, raising his voice to Jaken, “You’ve got your report. Take it and scram. I don’t wanna see you again unless Sesshōmaru’s got something new to say.”

Jaken’s mouth dropped open, but Inuyasha didn’t wait around — he leapt up into the nearest tree and dashed away towards some well-deserved silence and solitude.

#Inuyasha #Inuyasha fanfiction #Inuyasha AU #InuKag #my writing #i seriously doubt anyone here still remembers this story but you know what THAT'S OKAY #i'm trying to keep myself motivated to finish this chapter #i finally got the writing bug back and i'm trying to keep rolling #;A;#this is still my favorite story to work on despite how neglected it's been #You Are My Shelter

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honeyandbloodpoetry · 3 years ago

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Gender Thoughts Pt 1 and 2

The first time I put a binder on, a little under a week ago, I felt euphoric. Ever since I hit puberty very early on, I felt uncomfortable with my breasts. They never felt right on me, and even though I’ve come to love them sometimes, they still don’t always feel like they match up. I hated how people always looked at them, pointed out how much they showed in low cut shirts when I never even noticed they were--or even wanted them to. They were just there. I liked the way low cut shirts feel and look on me, I just can’t help these giant sacks of flesh that sit on my chest.

Except...now I can! I ran my hands over my smooth chest, feeling bright. I looked into the mirror, and felt something warm wash over me. I put on my new masculine clothes, letting my partner clip on my new suspenders. I realized that I was shaking as I looked at myself again… I looked like a boy. I felt like a boy. Like a man. And I liked it. I wanted it. Admitting that to myself was like coming home.

I remember being in sixth grade, walking around the track for my civil air patrol class. I had been slotted in with the rest of the girls, the boys walking ahead of us. I remember feeling uncomfortable being shoved in with only girls, and looking at the gaggle of boys ahead. The exact thought that whispered in my brain was “I wish I was a boy. I want to be like them, with them.” I never forgot that moment, and how strange it made me feel. How it was easier to shake that thought away, and dismiss those feelings. Except they never really left, did they?

I remember sitting on my bed, crying with my best friend kneeling in front of me. I remember telling her how I didn’t like feeling like a woman all the time. That I wished I could be a black shadow, monstrous, androdynous. Specifically like Venom. She took my hand, did my makeup all in black and helped me pick out the perfect black outfit to achieve that dark, gothic look. I was so incredibly happy and validated. But I still felt like something was missing.

I remember going into an Adam and Eve for laugh, not expecting much since I am an asexual with a low libido. I remember seeing packers and feeling my chest tighten. I never liked my genitalia--I had wished for a cloaca or something akin to that, but since that was biologically impossible for a human… I sometimes wished I had the opposite of a vagina. I frequently imagined what it would be like to have a penis. I frequently lamented the fact that I didn’t have one. I took the box up to the counter to ask some questions, my dress swishing as I went. The cashier told me it was for trans people only, and a girl like me couldn’t have it. She didn’t know what asexuality was, and had tried polyamory once but decided it was bad when her girlfriend kissed her boyfriend. I was upset, disheartened, and left the store empty handed feeling frustrated and lost.

I remember finally cutting the long, curly locks that had frustrated and imprisoned me for so long. Seeing all of my hair fall to the floor, staring into the mirror as the barber buzzed the back of my head… It made me want to cry tears of joy. It was the first time in my entire life that I had looked at my hair and was happy. The first time I could look in the mirror and feel like myself. Then I remember wanting to go shorter, and my barber encouraging me to keep it a little longer so I didn’t look manly, so I could still be soft and feminine. The way my stomach dropped and the sick feeling in my chest only increased when he began to make fun of the gay men who came down the street near his favorite restaurant. I never saw that barber again. I instead found a nice local place down the road from my apartment, where the kind lady cut it all off without question, other than “Why?” and accepted my warm “It makes me happy. It makes me feel beautiful.”

But wearing that binder for the first time? It was as if a beam of light had funneled its way directly into my heart. I felt like a handsome man, with just a little bit of striking man boob, and it felt so right. My partner called me a dashing boy and my heart began to race. I still feel his hand tracing my jawline as he called me handsome, and the butterflies it sent up through my belly, even after more than eleven years.

I love my partner--he identifies as agender and primarily masculine, and has been on the lookout for a good pair of size thirteen shoes to wear with a dress. They also wear joggers and flip flops and graphic tees and can’t seem to stop talking about the ocean and outer space. They’re probably one of my biggest inspirations for finding myself, and being authentically me.

I’m not super sure who or what I am right now. I’m still figuring that out, but I’m pretty sure I’m somewhere between agender and genderfluid. I feel like me more than anything else, but all pronouns make me feel good. I feel like all of them and none of them at once, but I swing between wanting to be feminine and masculine pretty strongly, though I enjoy being masculine most of all--even when I’m wearing dresses and pink. I feel like a beautiful person in a dress or a button down, no matter what gender I feel like today or tomorrow.

I am me. And I am one dashing boy, and one beautiful girl.

4 July 2021

XXX

Since first writing this little essay, I’ve been doing a lot more examination of my gender. I have come to the conclusion that I am transmasc and nonbinary, and am shaky on the title of genderfluid. I am feeling less and less like a woman--if anything, occasionally adjacent to a woman rather than actually being one. I love feeling like and presenting as a man. I have my first appointment with a gender services doctor at my local community clinic for consultation on starting hrt testosterone. I am planning to start with low dose first, and see how I feel.

I am still unsure of my exact identity, but I have found great euphoria with being and presenting as a man. I love being a man and everything that entails. I have loved myself like never before. Being with my partner is amazing, and he has been endlessly supportive--even recounting little things they had noticed throughout the years. One of the funniest being that I only ever referred to my body parts--my belly, hands, hair, genitalia--with masculine pronouns. I always seemed to see my body as male even if I had a certain sort of dissonance from it.

Coming out has been difficult. I have had both positive and negative experiences from it. I have been told going on testosterone would be self harm, and that I can’t be something I’m not. I’ve had coworkers I trusted out me without my permission. But I have also had positive affirmation, polite questions, and discussions. I am terrified to tell my mother and her boyfriend--I have no idea how they will react and am terrified that I will be disrespected and disowned.

But I am prepared to do whatever it takes to be my happiest and most authentic self.

I have been binding a lot more often, wearing sports bras for long shifts at work, and occasionally going without either when I feel like letting my man boobs hang free. I’ve had the delightful experience of going to a men’s big and tall store and finally wearing pants. I grew up as a fat girl and felt as if I had to perform high femininity to be taken seriously and be treated well--and had been told by someone I trusted that I was too fat to wear pants, which I heavily internalized. So I had completely cast them away in favor of dresses and skirts, bows and gaudy jewelry. Realizing that I could wear pants was...totally wild. That I could be comfortable and look good in pants and shorts, and that it didn’t matter what people did or thought of me was life changing. Maybe I’ll feel like being feminine again someday, but right now this masculinity and masculine clothing, with perhaps the added spice of funky earrings, feels like home.

I also grew up autistic and with PCOS, both which I think have affected my gender identity. Being autistic, I truly struggled to connect to others socially, and especially to understand societal norms. Being a proper woman felt like I was making up for everything else I was lacking--I may have been awkward, semi-verbal and weird with no friends, but at least I was cute and girlish. I never connected to womanhood though, and always felt out of place no matter how hard I tried. With PCOS, I had heightened testosterone, which meant wider breasts and shoulders, a lack of periods, and excessive body hair. I recall the endocrinologist asking high school age me if I had excessive body hair around my stomach, breasts, etc. and my mother jumping to say no I didn’t...even though I did. I remember suddenly feeling very self aware and ashamed of something completely natural, and even something I started to enjoy. I started shaving my entire body then.

I even remember being in middle school, and thinking nothing of my hairy legs. In fact, I loved my body hair and how it felt. A rude girl began making fun of me though, tutting her tongue as she cooed, “Aw, does your mommy not let you shave?” Among other things, all throughout many years of severe bullying and abuse. I remember feeling ashamed, but not knowing why, and immediately shaving my legs, covering them in nicks from my shaky and unsteady hands, that same night.

So many things set me back in my gender expression. So many things contributed to me willful ignorance and denial. I remember wanting to be butch, and everyone in my life laughing at me and saying I was too soft for that. That sweet, sharp ache in my chest. I remember going to a salad bar with my mother, wearing a button up and telling her I wanted to wear some more boyish clothes around that same time--I had already told her that I was bi sometime earlier. I remember her lip curling, looking uncomfortable, and telling me that I better not become one of those boy girls. My late father was very vocal in denouncing homosexuality and specifically men loving men--something which always sat horribly wrong with me on a deeper level.

I think I might ending up being a trans man. I am still unsure and figuring myself out, but I struggle greatly with the autistic need for sameness vs. the trans need for change. My sapphic love of women has always been very important to me, and fully becoming a man rather than genderfluid is scary for that very reason. I am still navigating my identity and what it means to me and my reality--but no matter what, being a man, being masculine is integral to who I am.

I was called a “sir” at a job interview for the first time the other day, and nearly began to bawl from sheer joy. The gender euphoria from that and so many moments is worth so much more to me than the years of suffering and ignorance and my ongoing struggles with dysphoria. I finally got a packer and have had help from my partner in learning to position it properly--I am thinking of cutting my hair even shorter. I have almost perfected a pretty basic tie tying skill. Okay, not really, but I’m getting there. I feel deep inside that even though my father loved me, he would not like who and what I am. Still, I wear the last watch he ever wore, and hope to be a good man like him--and to learn from the toxic parts of him to be an even better man.

I am very excited to start hrt. I am terrified of hair loss and vaginal atrophy, but I look forward to so much more. I cannot wait for bottom growth and body hair, for the voice drop that will hopefully get me misgendered less. I have always felt disconnected from my voice and look forward to getting to know it better as it changes with me. I look forward to meeting with new facial hair. Working out and growing muscle. I just look forward to my second puberty and becoming more like myself. I look forward to navigating and exploring my gender even further, both with loved ones, support groups, and myself.

More than anything, I am just happy to be me.

25 August 2021

#transmasc #ftm #ftx #gender #genderqueer #transgender #trans #lgbt #lgbtq #trans man #nonbinary #genderfluid #poets of tumblr #spilled thoughts #gender expression #low dose t #hrt

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themadauthorshatter · 4 years ago

Text

WELCOME BACK!

Kind of a loud intro, but I'm working on this early since I'm on a creative wave and don't want to get off.

Quick recap of parts 8 and 9, like super fast, so pay attention, class, because I'll only explain it 82 more times so I don't forget: After the successful rescue that totally went off without a hitch, Henry took a page from Right's book and arranged a video call and hostage swap: Reginald for Charles. Right agreed, but Charles had other opinions. After a heartfelt Copperright reunion, Charles ruins it by bringing a gun to the peace meeting, but Henry literally jumps into action and the two start fighting, something Henry totally started, if you ask Charles, and won fair and square, if you ask Henry. The CCC sees the whole thing and try to use Terrence as a means to an end before the scuffle ends with a shot to the hand delivered by Galeforce and Charles passes out because he's a sore loser and tired. They head back to the base, more worried about Charles than Right's and Reginald's escape by to the orbital station.

As always, feel free to catch up fully on the previous parts right here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

With all that out of the way, let's go check on our favorite stick people... that I gave hair. FUCK IT, LET'S GO!!!

We start off with Henry zoning out as a medic reapplies a bandage on his eyebrow; it will not become a scar, though he does have to grow the hair. Speaking of hair, he is now rocking a buzz cut because he got tired of looking at where Charles pulled his hair out.

He gets pulled out when Ellie limps over to him.

"Feeling better?"

He nods and points to her leg. 'I'm fine. You're getting better at walking.'

"Yeah. About time, too." Ellie's smile drops as she bites her lip, unsure of what to say next.

Henry notices and writes on a notepad, 'How's Charles?'

Ellie is silent, hugging herself before replying. "They really hurt him. He keeps coughing and trying to rub his eyes."

'Trying?'

When Ellie doesn't meet his eyes, Henry gets up and sees a soldier leaving what is basically the psyche ward, even though it's just a surgical room they mostly cleared out and filled with basic hospital room stuff. Inside this room is Charles, who is strapped down in his bed, even with his ankles and wrists restrained, just in case, and keeps writhing and kicking around trying to break free. He's screaming something, by neither Henry nor Ellie can hear him.

The sight makes Henry sick to his stomach.

"The General said it might be a while before he's himself again, and we can't take any chances."

Charles eventually calms down and lies back, and sees Henry and Ellie as a medic walks in. She also turns on some sort of intercom system, so they can hear him, before she walks into his room.

"Hi, Charles." She says with that same fake, condescending tone that all nurses use to talk. "How are you feeling?"

Charles, naturally, glares at her. "Terrible. And talking to me like I'm a kid won't make me feel better."

"Is there anything I can get you to make you feel better?"

"I want to get out of this bed," he says with a pull of his wrist. "These restraints are too tight."

Henry holds his hand to his mouth as the nurse shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, Charles, you heard what the Genersl said. We're not supposed to let you out until you get better."

This riles Charles up too much because he thrashes even more violently, which scares the hell put of the medic.

"Why are you doing this!? I'm a traitor! You should've killed me by now! Stop wasting your time and get it over with already!"

Charles tries to yell some more, but coughs and starts gasping very loudly.

The medic moves quickly, getting a needle and inserts it into Charles's chest to help him breathe again. She also injects him with a sedative to calm him down, in case he acts up again.

Ellie sees Henry staring and pulls him back as Rupert approaches them.

"The general wants to see you two."

After a glance back at Charles, the two meet Galeforce, who is sitting rather calmly at his desk.

"Nice to see you two getting better. Hood to see you on your feet, Ellie."

"Thanks. Did something happen?"

Galeforce grimaces and hands Henry a note from Bill Bullet asking that the government take care of the Toppat Clan before anything else with Henry, and that it shouldn't be a problem because they have the perfect man for the job.

'What about the deal?' Henry signs.

"He's holding off on it until the Clan's taken out. He won't talk about anything beyond that."

"So we're taking orders from the CCC now?" Ellie asks, finding the idea very tasteless.

"It's not an order. More of a... favor. And the Wall contacted me about that escape you pulled off."

Ellie groans and Henry rolls his eyes. 'They cannot blame us when we're going to give them the entire clan.'

"Dmitri couldn't care less about new inmates," Galeforce barks. "All he wants is your head devorating his mantle," he says as he points to Henry.

Henry tenses and looks between the two of them. 'So how do we take care of them?'

Galeforce shakes his head. "I don't know, but we're gonna take care of the Toppat Clan and get the CCC off our backs, regardless. Understand?"

The two nod and Henry leaves quickly to check on Charles.

Speaking of which, he's resting after getting air back in his lungs, and is VERY loopy when Henry walks in. He's still restrained, but doesn't really care. The medic is still in the room and is ready to translate for Henry.

"Henry? Is that... really you?"

Henry nods as he pulls up a chair and sits by his friend.

"You look... like an egg."

Henry snickers as Charles tries to reach out and feel Henry's cool new buzz cut hair.

"You do. You look like a hairy egg. Like someone left an egg out snd it got moldy."

Henry signs and the medic translsates, "He said, 'Eggs don't get bad like that, but tomatoes do.'"

Charles scowls and signs, 'Can read. I know what saying.'

Henry signs that he's glad Charles is back, crying as he does so.

Charles turns his eyes to the ceiling and lets his own tears fall, real ones, not artificial ones that he's had to put in. "When I saw those government destroyers get shot down or saw the pilots get shot right in front of me, I had a pretty good idea that I wasn't going anywhere. I started forgetting why I really joined the government and just saw why I shouldn't be anywhere near them. I forgot how much I wanted to be back. Fly their helicopter again."

'Don't you mean 'your helicopter?'' Henry signs.

"No. It was theirs. My parents. Mom was better a flying, but Dad was faster. They were really good at what they did. Too good. I was nine when the General told me. It was their last mission and they couldn't let enemy forces through. The general said it was a kamikaze attack, but my dad said he and my mom loved me. And that they were sorry they couldn't make it back for my birthday."

Henry is literally floored by this news. Charles never brings up his parents. NEVER! It's got nothing with a lack of trust, he just doesn't like talking about them, not even with the general, who took him in after their funeral.

"I don't know what they'd think, if they were alive, but I know they wouldn't want anything to with me either." Charles turns his eyes to Henry, tired and very saddened. "Why didn't you take the shot? He was right there."

Henry gulps and signs to Charles, 'I was scared. I didn't want to miss and hit you. I should've taken the shot anyway, but I didn't. I'm sorry.'

Charles keeps his eyes on Henry and stays silent for a few seconds. "How do I know this isn't all just in my head? How do I know I won't just wake up back there?"

Henry holds and rubs Charles's hand, writing on his wrist with his finger.

'This is real. You're home. I screwed up the mission, I know, but they're working on a plan to take down the Toppat Clan for good.'

Charles tightens his grip on Henry's hand as his eyes go wide. "Promise me. If that... that son of a bitch has me again and... and you're there, promise me you'll shoot him. Don't waste time worrying about me! I can't- I can't go back there! I can't handle it happening again! I can't go back! PROMISE ME I WON'T GO BACK!"

Henry holds Charles's shoulders and nods, trying to calm him down. 'I will. I promise I won't let anything happen to you.'

Charles rests his head against Henry's shoulder and nods, trying to calm himself down.

Henry only hugs him, makimg sure that when the time comes he will keep his promise to his friend.

And that is Part 10! Charles's recovery will not be easy, but he made Henry promise to keep him out of Toppat clutches and Henry will oblige.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one, it's a little fluffier, but I think we've all earned that after everything that's happened in the series

#henry stickmin #completing the mission au #charles calvin #toppat!charles #ptsd tw #angst #ellie rose #stickvin #fluff #swearing tw

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archived-gtronpa-account · 4 years ago

Note

It’d be interesting to see a giant Rantaro

Yiiis!! I don't recall seeing a whole lot of giant Rantaro (or even tiny Rantaro) around here so this is the occasion to give the cool//hot avocado man some 💚🥑💚🥑

____

Word count: 2700

Summary: After one of her friend's dares goes awfully wrong, Himiko makes the unlikeliest encounter.

____

During one of the numerous festivals at Hope’s Peak, three classes gathered up to share their ghost stories.

“… And if you go to the girl’s bathroom on the third floor at three thirty-three, they say you’ll see the lonely spirit of a girl with round glasses and long twin braids. And if you try to confess your love to her…” Sayaka stopped her narration, the pause punctuated by the crackling of fire. The moon shone bright overhead and cast a gentle light on the pop star’s face; a serene atmosphere that certainly didn’t help set the eerie ambiance she was going for.

“Wh-What happens?” Kaito kept a tense, stoic face, but his deathly grip on Maki’s arm was enough to betray his discomfort.

“Oh, oh! She’ll slice you up with her scissors and leave your body crucified,” Hiyoko cried out.

“Well yeah,” Sayaka sighed and shot a glare at the smaller girl, “Apparently, her body was found like that after she confessed to someone.”

“She was probably killed by the rich prick she was stalking,” Hiyoko sent a smirk to the ultimate writing prodigy.

“Th-That wouldn’t be such a bad way to die.” Toko kept a firm gaze on her lap and hid a smile behind an awkward grimace, unaware of the attention on her.

A new silence settled in among the group, most creepy stories having already been explored.

“Hey, hey! Anyone hear of some monster lurking there?” Ibuki nodded towards the forest near the academy.

“Some kind of green, hairy beast, I hear,” Hifumi nodded solemnly to himself and readjusted his glasses, “Kind of like Shaymin.”

“Soo, anyone wanna go check it out? Kazu’?”

“No way I’m going in a forest at night! Don’t wanna get caught in a bear trap or somethin’. Why not, uh… Chihiro?”

“A-Ah, I think I’ll pass as well.”

“Then what about Himiko?”

The mage in question stirred and lifted her head up from Tenko’s lap. “Don’t,” She yawned, “… wanna. It’s such pain…” She closed her eyes and went on to resume her nap, but Kokichi woke her up again.

“Shouldn’t be such a pain with your amazing magician skills, right?” Himiko’s eyes shot open to glare at the boy.

“’m not a magician, I’m a mage.” She grumbled out.

“Dunno ‘bout that,” Akane looked up from her meal for the first time that night, “Magic, huh? Kinda sounds like one of Hiro’s scams.”

Himiko’s chest burned at the comment. She straightened up and glared around at the group. “My mage skills aren’t a scam. My magic is real, it’s real, it’s real, it’s real-”

“Tenko won’t let anyone doubt Himiko’s magic.” Tenko stood and stepped in front of Himiko in a battle stance. The smaller girl frowned at the gesture; it made her somewhat feel like a defenseless pet in Tenko’s eyes. She could take care of herself.

“My magic’s real, ‘nd I’ll prove it if I just…” She looked behind her to the looming trees, ready to swallow whoever dared venture in, “… Gotta go there. Even if I’m really tired.”

Tenko looked back at her with wide eyes and opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but was cut off by Kaede chiming in, “Don’t worry, Himiko, I’ve already been there and it’s safe.”

“Take this with you then,” Mahiru held a camera out to her, “You can take a picture if you find some monster or anything interesting.”

Himiko took the small device and turned on her heels, ready to ignore a certain aikidoka’s protests and go prove her worth. Armed with a little camera and her spells, the mage ventured deep in the dark woods.

…

The air started to get thicker, cold seeped under her skin. Himiko wrapped her arms around herself and muttered some spells she could only hope would keep her from freezing. While she’d been taking a nap close to the campfire, she had forgotten how chilly the night was. The prospect of going back right then was tempting, but the image of her classmates calling her magic a scam and Tenko coming to her defense with some poor excuse was enough for the mage to chase off the idea and keep going with all the passion and determination she had in her (it wasn’t much, but it would have to do.)

…

Himiko could swear that at some point, the trees around her had hit a growth spurt. They towered far over her head and no matter how hard she squinted, the girl couldn’ catch sight of a single star past the clutter of leafs. If she’d had enough mana, she would’ve made the trees go back to normal, but she was too tired for that, so she only walked further down her path in search of some monster she wasn’t even sure existed.

…

Himiko was so tired. She had no idea what she was even trying to prove to her stupid classmates. She could go back and say she hadn’t found anything and lay her head back on Tenko’s lap and drift off into a nap. But… Not yet.

“Hey…” She called out, “If there’s any monster in here or something, ‘m not afraid. Show yourself!” Brave mage she was, Himiko brandished her camera up to the sky, (almost) defying any scary creature to come at her.

In her feat of bravery, she forgot to keep an eye on her path, and her mind went blank with terror when the next step she took was on thin air.

Her grip on the camera tightened. There was a flash of light before she shut her eyes and bursts of pain overtook her small body. There were cuts and hits and cracking and rustling and freezing air rushing past her burning skin- Then everything stopped, and she didn’t feel a broken bone among the mess of pain in her body when she met solid ground.

Himiko’s hand slowly reached to her shoulder. She shuddered and panted as she let all the small shots of pain through her body melt into a single feverish sensation.

For maybe hours, or days, or only minutes, Himiko lay there, silently letting the pain sink in and holding her body back from jolting. With a groan, the girl cracked an eye open. It was still night time and there were no starts shining over her head. She glanced back at murderous slope she’d slipped on, and tried to understand if her vision was hazy or if she’d really fallen from that height without even getting concussed.

Lazy, unfocused brown eyes drifted further off ahead and met an odd tuft of green that wasn’t a tree. Further down, there was a-… There was a pair of eyes of the same green focused on her.

And no stars shone over her head because there was a massive head blocking them out.

Himiko’s mouth fell open to scream, but the sound died in her throat into a near speechless, panicked, “A-Ah…”

“Hey now, calm down, it’s alright.” The soft voice was that of a human boy, but it was the giant’s lips that were moving. There was a giant, absolutely massive monster in the forest like the legend said, and Himiko couldn’t think of any spell or any trick to get out of his clutches, and she found her mind stuck on a single thought, ‘I should have listened to Tenko.’

The mage rose to her feet, ready to run and hide, but something twisted in her leg and made her fall back on her back with a gasp. The only sensation that registered for her then was the warmth and softness of the large hand she realized she was on. The stark contrast to the rest of the forest was jarring enough that she had to hold back from retching.

Gravity pulled her down once again, and the massive face slowly got further and further away from her hazy vision. Then there was warm flesh all around her, blocking her view and pressing against every inch of her body and ready to suffocate her-

And all at once, it came to an end, and Himiko exhaled a shaky breath of relief when she felt cold, damp soil on her back and neck.

“There, not so bad, was it?” There was the whispering again. Himiko closed her gaping mouth and attempted to steady her breathing as she tried to take in the sight before her eyes. The giant’s lips still moved and he talked to her more and more. He looked like a human boy in every aspect, save for the terrifying height. The words –of comfort, she guessed,- fell on deaf ears for the mage who was caught up in whispering protective spells and incantations to herself, over and over until the words got tangled on her tongue and lost all meaning and comfort.

The offending hands came for her again, and despite her body’s screaming and protests, the girl pushed herself upright with her good arm and scooted back, only stopping when she caught sight of gauze at plate-sized fingertips.

Tentatively, Himiko allowed one of the fingers to brush over her injured leg. She hissed when a tender spot was pressed. “D-Don’t…!”

“It’s fine, sorry. Does it hurt here?” Instead of answering, she kept her eyes downcast and reached out to snatch off the gauze before backing away again. Compliantly, the hand backed off as well, and the giant stayed quiet.

If she remembered well, Mikan didn’t wrap wounds without cleaning them first, but the mage didn't have the luxury to ask for disinfectant from the beast boy that kept her cornered, so she had to do with less than that. She worked with one hand and left her right arm to hang lame at her side. More hissing and pain later, the unwelcome hand reached back to her leg. Himiko bit her lip and glanced up at the giant boy, but found his pressuring gaze only focused on her injury. Compliantly, she accepted the help and stayed quiet.

“Hah, I know I look scary, I get that a lot.” The whole way through, the strange giant kept talking to her. His voice was hushed as a whisper, but it still was louder and more powerful than the cheers of any audience she had ever performed for. “Don’t worry though, I promise I’m not a baddie.” It was unnerving and left her uncomfortable, but at least it served to distract her.

“I don’t…” sometime after most of her injuries were tended to, Himiko found her voice and courage again, “I don’t need your help.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” His hands still worked to patch her up, “But that arm of yours isn’t looking too good. You shouldn’t move it much for now.”

“Then I’ll use my magic.” That caught the massive boy’s attention, and his focus shifted from her injury to her face.

“Magic? So you’re a magician, huh?” She pulled her hat lower down her face to avoid the attention.

“’m not. I’m a mage, a real and true mage who does real magic.” She bit her lip and looked up at the giant boy in the eyes, “And I’m really powerful, so if you try to hurt me or something…” She left the threat hanging, unsure what she could do against such a strong guy with her currently low mana.

“Ah, that doesn’t sound too good. I better…” Himiko winced at a sharp tug at her side, but then the pair of hands hovering over her finally retreated, and she had room to breathe again. “… Not try anything then.” The giant held his hands up over his head, and they went past the tallest trees. If he reached higher, she was sure he could grab the moon in a fist. “Will you show me some of your magic when you get better?”

Himiko checked over her wrapped injuries, absently nodding. She noted that her earlier protection spells had worked and turned the legendary scary green monster into a friendly (and quite handsome) man.

When both of them stopped talking, Himiko had expected silence; instead, she heard rustling and crunched leafs and cracking branches. The sound was rhythmic and getting louder by the second, like steps walking her way- or rather, running.

“Himiko!” The girl in question nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden familiar voice.

“Hey,” she was startled again by the giant boy whispering to her. In his company, Himiko had forgotten that her classmates were still waiting for her to come back. She had no idea how she could explain the situation to Tenko, and she had to come up with something soon before the other girl found her and her new titanic aquaintence.

“Himiko? Shh,” Himiko watched the giant stranger bring a finger to his lips in a secretive gesture. Before she could question it, he got up on his feet and took several, quick steps back. The entire forest shook with his every step, and mere seconds later, before she even had time to gape at the sight, he had completely disappeared beyond the towering trees.

"Himiko! Are you alright?" Tenko's voice came above the smaller girl, who looked several feet up to where she'd been before her fall. In the darkness, she could barely make out a tall form in a blue girl's uniform.

"I-I'm fine!" Soon, her classmate would come down and join her. Himiko tugged at her bleazer and skirt to hide as much as she could of her injuries, and she barely had time to pick the discarded camera up before Tenko got to her. Besides the leaves and twigs stuck to her, she looked fine; and hopefully, her slight limp wouldn't be too noticeable

The taller girl fussed and worried over her, and Himiko only listened with one ear, gaze set instead where a titan had stood only seconds ago. She could have thought the encounter a dream if not for the bandages carefully wrapped over her wounds. That alone wouldn't be enough to prove she'd met a monster and gotten away thanks to her mage skills. The giant boy had seemed to prefer staying secretive anyway, so maybe that was for the best.

On the way to the academy, Himiko lingered behind Tenko with the camera in her hands, checking for any damage to the ultimate photographers' device. Curiously, she checked for the pictures saved in, and nearly sputtered when she saw a green tuft of hair and a pair of eyes of the same green.

#gtronpa #danganronpa #ndrv3 #gt #tiny!Himiko #giant!Rantaro #rantaro amami #himiko yumeno #writing #request #ask

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zargsnake · 3 years ago

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Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 6: Tila Juna

Word Count: 1659 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

* * *

As he is meditating, several guards burst through the curtain into Obi-Wan's room.

“Alright, Jedi, what did you do?” asks a Rodian.

“Do?”

“Where is your boy?” asks an Ithorian in his steady, peculiar language, which the cosmopolitan scholar of course understands perfectly.

“Oh, dear. I thought he was with you!”

The Rodian smacks his insolent guts with her staff. “He's run off! What did you tell him? What did you give him?”

“Nothing. I know nothing about this station. And I haven't left this room.”

The Rodian whacks him on the head. “Sneaky Jedi rat.”

The Ithorian wearily halts his coworker’s attack. “Juna’s girl will work just as well for your death matches. Your boy was only ever extra bait. Now he has proven himself to be only trouble.” His gaze is imperious and bland. “When we find him, we shoot on sight. Then we’ll slice off his head before you can pull any of your magic tricks, and divide the spoils between the upper officers.”

“You underestimate him. He cannot be found if he doesn't want to be.”

“We shall see,” the third guard, a Zabrak, threatens.

Obi-Wan feels no fear at her appearance. She looks far more like his Zabrak friend Master Koth than the Sith. No one looks like the Sith.

But, for Anakin, he feels great fear. What did Anakin do? Where did he go? What is he thinking? Anakin amazed Obi-Wan with his knowledge of these low-lives. But on his own, in a place like this? With all the street smarts in the world, he won’t last an hour.

I have lost the Chosen One. Qui-Gon would kill me.

Nevertheless, the bold knight tuts and laughs. “You would love to hear our master plan, wouldn't you? Ah. I pity you all for what's about to happen to you and your little tournament.”

The Rodian hits him again.

“Alright, then,” says Obi-Wan, grimacing. “If you want answers, you'd better bring in your boss. I'll only talk to Knightkiller.”

“Not likely,” the Ithorian responds. “You'll only fight Knightkiller once you’ve defeated all the others. So many of our athletes are paying through their noses for the chance to kill you.”

“In that case, please do drop a line if my Padawan turns up.”

The guards leave, irritated.

A minute later, they return, now practically hysterical.

“Alright!” yells the Rodian. “Something IS up! Where's the girl, Jedi?!”

“What girl?”

“Juna's Padawan!”

“Goodness gracious. Can't you keep a better eye on us?”

The Rodian moves to hit him again, but stops since he doesn't seem affected. “We know you're behind this.”

“It's almost like the most highly-trained warriors in the galaxy can just slip through your nasty little fingers.”

She hits him again.

“The teachers will pay for their students' disobedience,” says the Zabrak, who pulls the other two guards out of the room and slams the door.

The warriors beside Obi-Wan have gone quiet, intimidated by his taunting, in awe of his unknown abilities and those of the other three Jedi. Obi-Wan wonders how long that awe will last, if he can't escape as the clearly more competent children did.

Suddenly, the door to the arena opens up. He hears the crowd chanting his name. When he steps out, his arm shielding the brightness from his eyes, they all cheer for him. He feels disgusted to be a source of admiration for people like this, for doing the worst thing in the world. The sand underfoot is congealed with spots of blood. An attendant hands him a clean sword.

As the announcer speaks, and Obi-Wan's eyes adjust to the light, he sees that his opponent is that boyfriend-killer Tiango. The Mandalorian flexes and poses for the audience, but they are not swayed in their support for Obi-Wan.

In the same chair on which they had bound Anakin, now they have bound Master Juna. Where Anakin was terrified, Juna is peaceful, even content. She is a tall, large, fuzzy alien, a Lollian. Centuries ago, so he’d been told, her fur was bright orange with brown stripes, but he has only ever known her to be gray and silver. One of the two horns curling around her head is broken, but that was not from this death game; it has been like that as long as Obi-Wan can remember. The woman seems entirely unfazed and unharmed by the experience. He knows this cannot be remotely true, and yet she hides her pain so well -- or else, the Force is so strong with her that she sits on a plane of existence above it all, unbothered. She nods at him and he feels as one blessed.

Obi-Wan instinctively reaches out for his own master. The years of physical peril and spiritual confusion in the life of a Padawan trained Obi-Wan to reach out to Qui-Gon as an immediate reaction, utterly replacing his natural fight-or-flight instinct, the ways of the Jedi overcoming evolution itself.

But of course he cannot reach him. Grief strikes him harder than any of these crooks could, harder than even any Sith could.

He's got to replace that instinct himself, this time; he's got to do it himself. There's someone else he has to reach for now, someone who feels entirely different, strange, and small, still smarting from a bad first impression. And -- more than that -- he, Obi-Wan, has got to be ready for Anakin whenever Anakin needs him, for whatever, just as his master was for him. The weight of this responsibility could crush the young man.

Anakin is here in the audience. Obi-Wan can sense his presence.

Obi-Wan glances over the crowd -- Tiango seems to be posturing still -- but he can’t locate his Padawan. Anakin seems panicked, urgent. He has seen Tiango kill before, kill someone he cared for. He must be worried Tiango will be too much for Obi-Wan to handle. But Obi-Wan took down several Yoroo Soldiers less than one year ago. Sure, they're not an easy fight, but he knows their tricks; he knows their evil cybernetic enhancements.

Chahlee sends a laser, suddenly, at Obi-Wan, from his blaster-arm. Obi-Wan deflects it deftly, causing the audience to gasp, but the impact bends his vibroblade. Obi-Wan stares at it. He forgot they did that.

* * *

Freed, with the help of Fenn Gallowk and his acid-blaster, on the upper floor of the space station, Anakin knows he needs to hide his Jedi robe and Padawan hair. These people might even know his face. He got lucky with Fenn -- the next person who recognizes him from the Boonta Eve race probably won't give Anakin a chance to talk it out.

Anakin wonders if anyone here bet ON him. He doubts it. But it's a big galaxy, and maybe someone out there took a chance on him.

He remembers Qui-Gon's confident face, and how the man had picked him up to put him into the podracer, and then picked him out of it in the end and carried him on his shoulders. If Anakin is honest with himself, he knows Qui-Gon was, really, the only person who believed in him. His mom, Padme, and Jar Jar had supported him, and hoped beyond hope he would make it out alive. But Qui-Gon was the only one, probably in the whole universe, who believed -- foresaw, even -- that Anakin would win.

No, that's not true. Anakin had believed that too. How could he fail, when they all needed him so badly? When there was absolutely no other way, no choice?

Anakin hurries down the prison hall. The cells are closed on all sides; it is impossible to see who is being kept in them. He hides behind the flap of a garbage chute as a security droid passes; he sits with his back and legs pressed against opposite sides of the chute, careful not to fall down into who-knows-where. It smells awful. He jumps back into the hallway and finds the door to the public area ajar. He pushes his way out and tries to blend in with the crowd, keeping his head down and arms crossed around his blaster and the front of his robe.

Recharging: 3%.

Of all the blasters he could have stolen...

Just around the corner, he sees a big green alien at a desk and, behind them, a coat-check. Anakin ducks under the desk and sneaks into the room full of these criminals’ coats and cloaks. It smells even worse than the garbage chute.

He holds his nose and searches for something bulky, obscuring, and somewhat in his size. He finds a fur cloak, the pelt of a pink monster with its horned face still attached. He puts it on and ties the lower part around his waist so it doesn't drag on the floor. With the hood up, he can hide his own face inside the monster's mouth. He hides the blaster in the copious folds of fur.

Maneuverable? No. Inconspicuous? No. Unrecognizable, and able to hide his weapon? Yes.

Exciting? Yes!

Now he's got to get to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan will know what to do. Even if he doesn't, it's Anakin's duty to be at Obi-Wan's side.

The loudspeakers announce the fight between Obi-Wan and Chahlee Tiango. Anakin feels afraid, and tells himself Jedi do not feel afraid, but it doesn’t help.

He sneaks back out from under the desk and finds two large furry aliens on the way into the arena, arguing with each other and paying no attention to anyone. He sticks close to them and pretends they are his parents. Once the hairy family has entered the arena through this upper-floor entrance, Anakin separates from them and waddles through the balcony seats, trying to get as close to the arena as he can. He sees Obi-Wan and the Mando have already begun to fight. He takes a seat on the floor at the very front of the balcony and holds onto the bars with his shivering hands.

“Come on, Master.”

Chapter 7: Jane

#my story #my art #star wars #knightkiller: anakin and obi-wan's first adventure #obi-wan kenobi #tila juna #anakin skywalker #scifi #adventure

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hear-me-growl · 4 years ago

Text

Ambrosia | Ksj | Chapter V

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ Aᴏ3 || Dɪᴏɴʏsᴜs ·ᴘᴜʙ· ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴘᴏsᴛ || ↻ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut, humor, fluff | s2l > ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: millionaire!Seokjin x bartender!, nyotaimori model!Reader > ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: mature [+18]; strong language and explicit sex > ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.9k

sᴇʀɪᴇs ɪɴᴅᴇx || ⟵ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪᴠ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠɪ ⟶

💙 ᴀ/ɴ: holy shit, this one’s is a big boy. This chapter has been a nightmare. I’ve been stuck on it for weeks. I had it planned and all, but for some reason it didn’t feel right. The tone was getting way too angsty, so I rewrote the whole thing multiple times. 😩 Hopefully you guys like the end result!

Next chapter will be the final one, I think? Depends on how carried away I get 😅 Is anyone else excited for these two idiots? Let me know!

“My head is killing me.”

“Lightweight.”

A streak of sunlight filtering through the curtains reminded you both that life went on outside your smelly apartment. You opened the window to let in some fresh air, which makes your friend shriek and hide under the blanket. Last night’s scraps —half eaten chips and pulp-less lemon wedges— came to life under the light. The leftover still life accentuated the taste of alcohol on your mouth and you walked to the kitchen in need of something to wash it off.

Best friend bonding nights ended up inevitably in hungover mornings. That is, using the term “morning” loosely. It was a routine you both had perfected. First you sneaked shots at work and went to your apartment after closing. Then you did even more shots, talking and laughing over whatever sappy movie you were pretending to watch. Last but not least, you both fell asleep on the couch Tetris-style.

At the sound of you waking up, your cat-shaped demon strutted proudly towards you. She tangled between your legs, making you trip to avoid stepping on her and hitting something in the process. With a curse, you rubbed your sore knee while trying to remember where you set her food last time. She was a genius glutton, so you had to change the hiding spot constantly. Otherwise she would get to it, no matter how high or locked it was. Impatient, the feline followed you around. Shortie joined her high pitched meows, complaining about the noise. As you exited the bathroom with her precious pebbles, the feline purred happily. You kept the light on for your best friend, who hurried inside to purge any leftover mistakes from her stomach.

The flush went on while you poured some juice for her. Wiping her chin, she joined you in the kitchen with a grimace.

“I’m too small to drink that much. Never again.”

“You always say that and never keep your word.”

“Don’t expect it to be any different this time,” she downed the glass desperate to wash off the taste.

“At least you’re consistent,” you quipped.

Sitting on the counter, you pushed a plate towards her before chomping on your breakfast. While you hummed a song you couldn’t remember, Shortie eyed the butter as it melted on golden bread for a minute. An annoyed groan brought you back from your thoughts.

“Ughhh… I’m pretty sure I’m gonna puke last night all over again.”

“Are you dissing my breakfast-making skills?” You turned to her, quirking a brow. Her eyes widened, and she shook her arms, making a fuss.

“No, no! It looks amazing, really, but my stomach is—”

“Chill,” you interrupted her with a satisfied grin. “I’m just messing with you.”

“I hate you,” she glared while you picked up her plate. No way you’d let it go to waste. “Glad to see you’re enjoying the new toaster.”

The incredulous look you gave her, as if she hit her head somewhere, made Shortie giggle. She could tell you appreciated her gift. Bribe. There was a blurry line between those terms.

“Not enjoying, loving. Bitch, have you seen it? It’s yellow and says ‘I loaf you’. I loaf you. This is the peak of my existence,” you raved between mouthfuls.

“Well, at least you got something out of dating a millionaire...”

“Don’t start with your Seokjin crusade,” you warned with a groan. What nice way to ruin breakfast.

“What? I didn’t say anything yet?”

Feigned innocence always looked good on her, all doe-eyed and pouty, brows sloping at the end. She took advantage of it whenever she could, but hungover you wasn’t having it.

“I mean it,” you hopped off the counter, rounding her to wash the dishes. “It’s too early for that shit.”

“It's past 12.”

“Exactly,” you grunted.

Just a few seconds passed, silence only disrupted by your scrubbing. Your friend nibbled her lip as she did when she mulled over something.

“Well, it’s not like those old ones you are used to, but I’m happy you like the thing,” she chirped, standing next to the toaster. “You should listen to me more often. I mean, look at it! Beautiful, elegant, funny and it definitely knows how to toast your bread.”

Her hand slid across the shiny surface distractedly, but still scanned your reactions from the corner of her eye.

“Very subtle.”

Ever since she met Seokjin at the bar, he seemed fixed on the idea of you dating him. She managed to shift the conversation towards him one way or another. A skill as impressive as it was irritating.

“He came by the other day. Again. I forgot to tell you.”

“Thanks for the report, soldier, but you don’t need to notify me every time he shows up. I don’t care.”

“The best sex you’ve ever had crosses Seoul, sits alone and orders a single drink just for a chance of seeing you. It’s my moral obligation to let you know.”

“He might like the place,” you shrugged.

Shortie closed the faucet to get your full attention. No need to take a look at her to know exactly the frown she wore —the one that made you feel like a child being scolded. In a weak attempt to avoid it, you left the kitchen. She followed you closely, not giving you a chance to escape.

“He likes you.”

“I’m flattered.” Unfazed, you slumped on the couch.

“We talked for a bit, you know? Poor guy wanted to know why are you avoiding him,” she continued as she sat beside you.

“Poor guy? Not your finest word choice,” you snickered, triggering an exasperated eye roll.

“I don’t get you. You say you don’t give a damn, but you hide under the counter whenever he shows up. You won’t respond to his texts, but you read them all. You say he’s just another random hookup, but then admit it felt different —good different.”

“When did I say that?”

“Last night,” she chuckled implishly, reaching for an empty bottle on the floor and shaking it teasingly. “You always spill your guts with tequila.”

She kept her gaze fixed on you. Shifting a bit, you scratched your neck to relieve the uncomfortable itch of the conversation. Why did she have to press you on the matter? If he was so damn perfect, she should marry him. You’d even hold her up for the kiss to spare him the back pains.

“Your point is?”

“Stop being so stubborn and give him a chance. Not just for him, for you too. I know you don’t need it, but you deserve someone who takes good care of you. He’s into you and you’re into him, so what’s the problem?”

“I’m not—”

“Nope, can’t fool me,” she grinned. “I see the way you look at your phone. Sorry to break it out to you, but he’s got you hooked.”

“Ok, now I know you’re still drunk. He’s the opposite of my type.”

“Your type is crap. Plus we both know that’s not the reason why you push him away.” She took a breath after rolling your eyes and occupied yourself with a loose thread on the blanket. “It’s been three years since your ex, I think you should give Jin a try.”

“Hey! We agreed not to talk about The Maggot.”

A well-deserved nickname for that wormy bastard. Just a few months with him, you’d reached the lowest point in your life. He feasted on the lack of self-love you’d accumulated through the years and wrecked all the progress you’d made since leaving home. He seemed to grow bigger the more wounded and hurt you were, so he made sure you felt like shit. Thus: The Maggot.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she stuck her tongue out when your face puckered. “Give him a chance, not everyone is like that jerk.”

“Since your weird obsession with Seokjin is clogging those cute ears, I’ll say it again: I don’t want a relationship. It always ends up being a mess, I end up a mess and I’m tired of it. I’d rather have fun, no strings attached,” you shrugged.

“Look, babe,” the sudden tenderness in her voice formed a knot that you forced down your throat. “I know better than anyone that you’ve been hurt before. I get it, it’s scary. There’s nothing wrong with hookups, if that is what makes you happy. Just don’t let all the assholes before Jin scare you out of love. It doesn’t suit you, you’ve always been the fierce one.”

The both of you stayed like that for a while. Shortie rubbed circles on your back, waiting patiently for you to sort things out on your own. She wanted to hug you, but you knew she wouldn't push you anymore and you appreciated her understanding. With a heavy sigh, you turned to her.

“Let’s just take another nap, I have work tonight.”

“Ok,” she complied with a bright smile that made you forget the mess in your head before pointing to the couch. “But, please, not on this spine-wrecker.”

Late. Again.

The red bulb shined mockingly, brighter as seconds passed. The erratic drum of your fingers on the wheel only unnerved you further, but they had a mind of their own. Tonight’s event was big and you’ve spent extra time pampering yourself to look your best. No one wants sushi on hairy legs. However, your cat decided that it was as good a day as any to battle the living room lamp, which hit the glass coffee table when defeated. To top your exasperation, she had the audacity to look upset at your scolding. Insolent punk.

You arrived at the location, a tall mirror reflecting Seoul back at you and checked the address once more. Top floor, naturally. What was with businesspeople and heights? Must be nice constantly looking at the world from above. You checked yourself in the lift’s mirror, to put any hair that got wild with the rush back in place. Tapping your foot, you glared at the numbers passing by on the screen. For a spaceship-like elevator, it was pretty damn slow. Just your luck, Tanaka was in the kitchen tonight. Whenever you worked with him, you found a new level of stress you didn’t know you could reach. Being the best sushi chef at the catering, he could make anyone lose their job just by saying the word. To add to your luck, he hated your guts. You became his least favourite model since that one time you might have showed up a bit tipsy. However you absolutely did not fall asleep as he claimed, just rested your sight —two minutes maximum. Guests didn’t even notice. Next thing you knew, he was yelling something about his art being disrespected by a westerner, berserk mode on. So he definitely wouldn’t take well you being late. You sighed heavily, hoping that at least the froth coming from his mouth didn’t spray in your direction.

Ding

Shit. Tanaka had to be furious, he never texted. Hell, he barely even talked to you. Reluctantly, you unlocked your phone, mentally prepared for a scolding. You breathed once you saw the screen —Kim freaking Seokjin and his timing. Numbers increased in slow motion as you considered answering. You really should ignore him, but there were fifteen floors left. Enough time for you to try to get through his thick skull that you wouldn’t go out with him again.

Doors opened suddenly and you jumped a bit. Moment of truth. Anyone else would’ve been scared of the pair of sharp eyes that greeted you —disintegrating every single cell in your body— but you were no coward. After an uncomfortable apology, you took off your clothes and laid on the table so he could begin his artistry.

You found out that Tanaka was even scarier when he gave the silent treatment. As you felt him and his kitchen helpers place food and decorations on your skin, you simply stared at the ceiling. Soon enough your head filled with a bit of everything: shopping list, your dad’s iconic moustache, the lightbulb that needed changing… Eventually, your mind gravitated to Seokjin. It was a common occurrence these days, much to your distaste. Not only did he show up at the bar or texted randomly, he had to pop into your head too. He just made way through your mind, pushing aside everything else. As if you didn’t have anything better to think about. Even his abstract self could be an arrogant jerk.

Was it cruel to let him believe that you were out with someone else? Perhaps, but that was your last resort to keep him at bay. Most likely looking for round two, he’d been persistent —obnoxiously persistent. To be honest, you couldn’t blame him. On a scale of one to ten, your night together made the scale its bitch. After almost a month, you still found yourself spacing out thinking about it. A little guilty pleasure that you’d never admit out loud.

Of course you could always give in. You’d call, ask about his day and go somewhere nice just to end up in his bed again. You could’ve stayed that morning with him instead of running away. But you knew those deals already. Love always came with fine print. Jealous outbursts even when they were the cheater or nasty comments about the things you were proud of. Maybe they enjoyed making you feel small and worthless just so they could look better next to you, like The Maggot. Or perhaps they just wanted to fuck the dumb, foreign girl because “she’s a freak in bed”. The list went on. No one knew better —you’d been through all of them. Dangerous men, all wrapped with charming personalities and big smiles to distract from the trail of broken hearts behind them. Given how your face lit up whenever your screen did, Seokjin was one to be especially careful around. His unread texts meant trouble.

Blocking his number would’ve been the smartest solution. Quick, like ripping off a bandaid. Still, there was a part of you that wanted to wait and see if he’d grow tired of chasing after you and go find an easier target. Not if, when. So far, he’d lasted longer than you expected.

A heavy sigh was your queue to sneak a glance at the chef, currently wrinkling his nose at work in front of him. He checked his watch before turning to his ever-tense kitchen helpers.

“Guests are arriving soon, so this will have to do. I can’t do miracles. We’re 15 minutes short on presentation time thanks to someone’s incompetence and we don’t have nearly enough greenery to cover all the imperfections.” The not-so-subtle side eye at you didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m not proud of tonight’s piece, team. We’ll have to compensate for it with an impeccable service.”

Hearing disappointment in their superior’s voice instantly glued eyes to the floor. You winced, knowing it was your fault.

“Well? Don’t just stand there, idiots! Move, move!” He ordered, making them all jump and scatter like scared mice.

With that, he turned around and zeroed in on you. Upper lip raised, the chef got closer until he was towering you. His imposing demeanor had you squaring up as much as you could without the food on you falling. Tanaka’s favourite activity was intimidating others. Enough dealing with bullies taught you that is best not to show them fear.

“I know I’m asking a monkey to do magic, but try not to ruin my night further or I’ll personally make sure that you never work again,” he spat before walking away.

Silent treatment was definitely better. That man’s tongue was sharp as his knives. You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding and let your muscles relax. It was going to be a long night.

“Everything looks spectacular, Mr. Choi. Wouldn’t expect less from a man like you.”

An hour in and no incidents so far. Tanaka had relaxed a bit. Not around you, of course. Whenever he came to check, you could feel his eyes slicing you up like hamachi. However, the other cooks and the service left the kitchen far less horrified.

Two men chatted by the table you laid on. Head filled with nothing you kept your eyes on the intricate ceiling with a blank expression. Usually you didn’t pay much attention to the conversations around you —too much business talk. However they sometimes served as distraction for the ache of laying still for hours.

Tonight’s host, Mr. Choi, an older man with a neat haircut and small hands, turned his head to you. “I chose the model specifically for you. I thought you’d feel more at home with a bit of western flavor to your food, Mr. Harper.”

“Everything is perfect, I’m grateful for your hospitality.” He took a piece of sashimi, his gaze lingering on you. “Is this a Korean tradition?”

“Japanese. I find nyotaimori an exquisite showcase of artistry, although it is an unusual practice. Forbidden in some countries, even.” The older man got closer to the other, as they inspected you.

“I envy you, Mr. Choi. Your eye for beauty is as sharp as the one for business.”

“It is, indeed,” he chuckled. “My old friend Mr. Kim told me you and I would get along. His son has a gift for reading people and he speaks highly of your company. I think you’ve met him already?”

“Yes, I have. I’ll admit I was discouraged when Mr. Kim sent his son to talk business instead of doing it himself. Five minutes with the boy, and I realised my mistake. He’s a bit younger than me, but he has experience and confidence way above his age.”

“Just like his father, that old devil. Look, there he is. Perfect timing, as always,” he turned with a beaming smile and gestured for someone to join the conversation. “Come here, son! We were talking about you just now.”

With an odd feeling in your gut, you bit the inside of your cheek. Not him. There’s a Kim every two Koreans, please, not him. From the corner of your eye, you catched a glimpse of the man approaching before averting your gaze.

The universe hated you.

“Only good things, I hope,” Seokjin bowed and the other two chuckled. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

“Mr. Harper here was telling how happy he is to do business with you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“I thought you wouldn’t come, son. I know you’re not a fan of these parties.”

“I couldn’t miss yours, Mr. Choi. Anyone in business knows: if you want to make the right connections, here’s the place.”

“Ah, always working. I’ll warn you, Mr. Harper, Seokjin here is a professional even after leaving the office. Since you two are close in age, I’m trusting you to make him loosen up a little,” he patted Seokjin’s broad back. “Come on, son. Get something to eat.”

There was a pause and the background noise quieted for a moment. Eyes fixed anywhere but him, you didn’t see his reaction once he realised you there. Would he wear the smirk he gave you when he saw you the first time in this exact position? Or would he arch his brow slightly like he did when something picked his interest but didn’t want it to show? Surprised at your own knowledge of Seokjin’s expressions, you didn’t realise him approaching until his voice rang much closer than before.

“With pleasure.”

His silhouette blocked the ceiling light, that shined like a halo around him. The eclipse-like effect would cover his reaction even if you dared to look. You felt your cheeks heat up and your toes curled nervously. He made no further comment, but you did notice his slow movements as he chose something with chopsticks. Despite your breath quickening, you didn’t take your eyes off the ceiling.

The conversation with his peers flowed casually, all business deals and market values, though you couldn’t focus on it anymore. Not with his efforts to draw your attention back to him. Standing near your table, Seokjin picked up something from your body every now and then. Whenever you felt his presence closer, something stirred deep inside you. A mixture of arousal and mortification. What if he told them about your night together? They’d probably lose their appetite, knowing their sushi platter made a mess on someone’s sheets. If you still had a job by the end of the night, you’d lose it. Though you doubted he’d even admit he’d fucked you, it would ruin his image in front of his partners. How many men like him admitted all the secretaries and maids and other nobodies they got frisky with? In his world, big names didn’t look good next to small ones. At the same time, the memory of his mouth on your skin and the dark ink of his lovebites on your neck the day after messed with your ability to think straight.

Eventually, he excused himself and greeted someone else, brushing your ankle when he walked past. You tensed immediately. Looking in his direction for the first time, you caught the faint outline of a smirk as sauntered away. The greater the distance he put between you, the easier it was to relax. Shortly after, you realised he wouldn’t allow it.

Time passed lazily, minutes turning into decades built up the stress of the night. First the incident with the chef, to whom you’d surely have to suck up to later in hopes he forgave your lack of punctuality. And then Seokjin and his cruel way of keeping you on edge. Without a phone screen or the bar counter as barrier, ignoring him proved to be tougher than you’d thought. All throughout the night you heard his voice, sometimes closer than others but never enough for you to figure out exactly where it came from. He wanted to make sure you didn’t forget about him, that he could approach and tease you whenever he pleased. At some point you grew tired of the tension.

Body perfectly still, you scanned the room until your eyes met. He kept talking to the expensive suit in front of him, but his gaze was undeniably locked on you. Mischief and playfulness poured out of his dark orbs and a little bit of something else. Maybe annoyance, maybe lust. It was usually hard to decipher his expressions, but even harder when he masked them for the other attendees. He seemed a different man, giving plastic smiles for his plastic friends —the tiny creases around his eyes nowhere to be seen. You missed them.

The little exchanges and glances grew bolder since that moment. For anyone else in the room, Seokjin behaved as the heir of one of the biggest companies in Korea should. For you, however, he’d lick his lips while devouring your body from afar or wink at you whenever he caught you staring back. To your surprise, no one seemed to take notice.

No matter how hard you tried, avoiding his gaze proved to be pointless. Like a magnet, your eyes were drawn to his before you could register it. It only spurred him to be more daring and it kept you on edge, afraid of him doing something that could cost you a paycheck.

At the end of the night, the clink of glasses and the frivolous chatter thinned and tangled with the slur of goodbyes and the buzz of waiters cleaning up. Only a small group was left. They smoked big cigars and discussed politics, faces red with alcohol, while you discreetly stretched your neck and counted the minutes. Just when you thought the night was almost over, your body tensed once more when you heard a familiar voice.

“I don’t think ‘mouthwatering’ does you justice, sweet cheeks.”

His words ringed too loud for your liking and your eyes bounced around the room. The smokers were too immersed in their secret competition for the biggest, rarest cigar and the workers seemed too eager to go home to pay attention. Seokjin sensed your apprehension and placed a hand next to your head, resting his weight on it so he would look straight down at you. You took a sharp breath when his thumb caressed your temple and you jerked away on instinct, the contact scolding your skin. His eyes briefly shot up to check if anyone had noticed the sudden movement, but landed immediately back on you.

“I like your dress, by the way,” he added. “It matches your imaginary date.”

An ugly scowl settled on your face, but he chose to ignore it. Tilting his head, he trailed down your form as you warned him with a huff. When his gaze met yours again, it narrowed dangerously. Even if his face was serene, his eyes weren’t. All the colors around you stirred in his black pools, a mysterious kaleidoscope you had never seen on them before. Your tongue itched from the unspoken expletives as you glared up at him. Without a sound, you gracefully mouthed a “fuck off.”

“Don’t look at me like that, the sushi is going to turn sour,” he grinned. “Can’t resist getting naked for me, hm? Next time I’d appreciate a warning if you are gonna show up like this. Do you know how difficult it is to do business with you teasing me?”

Your brows shot up at his words. Only if you could tell him to get his egocentric ass out of his mouth.

“It’s cruel to take advantage of my weaknesses, sweet cheeks,” he tutted. “Not fair play.”

“I am working,” you reminded quietly through a clenched jaw, voice low and gritty with irritation.

“It hasn’t stopped you from ogling me like you want me to fuck you senseless in front of everyone.”

Once again, his carefree tone felt dangerous. Although the remaining guests' cackles overpowered his words, for you they still boomed too loud. So much, that your traitorous body rumbled at his suggestion despite the fear of being discovered.

He caught the subtle way your teeth trapped your bottom lip before it tightened in a line. Not even your frown could hide your pupils expanding and he smiled wolfishly. You’d tried so hard to keep him at a distance, to act cold around him. The weeks after he woke to the lingering bittersweetness of your perfume he’d been wondering why. Right there and then, he got his answer.

“You’re gonna get me fired. Leave.”

“Then tell me why are you avoiding me,” he asked, although he didn't need to.

“Get a pen, there’s a whole list of reasons,” your quiet retort made him chuckle darkly.

“Will you read them to me after work? If you’re good, you’ll get a spank for each one,” he winked. If anyone looked in your direction, you would be in trouble. He was too close and the flowers on you laid off their designated spots.

“Just lea— ”

The rasp of a throat clearing tore the air and your body became stone. Seokjin straightened his back calmly, not even bothered by the interruption, but your head whipped to the noise at lightning speed. You felt the petals on you fall on the table, followed by a piece of sushi.

“I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Kim. But the nyotaimori exhibition is over. If you wish to eat something else, our buffet is still open.”

Tanaka snapped his fingers and two waiters picked your table and brought you into the kitchen. You didn’t miss the throbbing vein on his forehead when he bowed for the millionaire.

The pleasant bell of the elevator mimicked the end of a boxing match after a knock out. Utterly defeated, your feet dragged on the beautiful carpet that led you out of the building.

Your head was pounding with the echoes of the chef’s harsh scolding. A few of your coworkers chatted by the entrance, but quieted down when they spotted you. No need to be a genius to know the nasty things they whispered as you walked past them. They’ve witnessed the scene just moments ago. Tanaka yelled and yelled while you just stood there, drenched in all his anger. Pathetic excuse of a model. That’s what he called you. From his point of view, you broke your obligations and tried to get a millionaire’s attention. Someone who, as he kindly reminded, would never mix with the likes of you for more than a fun night. His hurtful comments didn’t end there, but that part stuck with you the most.

Cold hit your face as you exited the building, freezing any lingering thought and you breathed out to fill your lungs with that same peace. Once outside, where the usually frency of Seoul slept, you could store the night in the drawer of moments that you’d rather forget.

“Hello, sweet cheeks.”

Any prospect of serenity on the quiet night air crashed with just three words. Him, always him. Whenever you allowed yourself to relax, he always appeared. Like a fly on a hot summer evening, sticking to your skin and buzzing until it drew you crazy. You walked past the spot where he leaned against the wall with a huff.

“How about I take you on an actual date tonight? I sneaked a bottle of wine.”

Nothing. Maybe it was childish to ignore him, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with him, not tonight, so you kept walking.

“Should I take that as a yes?”

The more he talked, the faster your irritation started to boil. Without sparing him a glance, you kept your pace. Seokjin jogged a bit to keep up and frowned himself as he noticed your scowl deepening.

“Baby, it’s hard to maintain a conversation if you don’t help me out a bit.”

The burning tick of your brow marked the countdown before the explosion, you knew that. It bothered you how his long legs could easily match your quick pace. You fished the car keys out of your pocket, taking a turn to cross the street.

“You are angry with me,” he stated.

A scoff escaped your throat, as you smiled dryly.

“To be angry I’d have to give two shits about you, which I don’t.”

“Ouch,” he grimaced at your clipped tone and let you put some distance between the two, considering your words. Aware that he walked on thin ice, he caught up once again with a smirk. At least he got you talking.

“You sure about that? You seem pretty angry to me.”

Exasperated, you stopped abruptly, fire burning in your eyes. It took him by surprise how serious your expression became. Maybe he’d overstepped in his attempts to lift up your mood, maybe he’d really fucked up.

“What the hell are you doing here, Seokjin?”

“Just wanted to check if everything is fine with your boss,” he was cautious, approaching you as if he wanted to pet a lion.

“No, it’s not fucking fine,” you snapped with an accusatory finger to his chest. “I almost got fired.”

“I’m sorry, sweet cheeks, I shouldn’t have messed around while you were working. I didn’t consider the consequences.”

“Of course you didn’t. Losing your job is not something that ever scares you, hm? The little prince has his life sorted out already. Must be nice.”

Voice loaded with sourness, you held his gaze. Apart from his lips tightening in a thin line, Seokjin kept his usual unreadable self. He didn’t even have the decency to look intimidated by your anger. Blood pulsed in your temples like migraine. God, he was so infuriating.

“By the way, don’t you ever call anyone to clean up my shit again. I don’t need it. I can deal with my own problems.”

When Tanaka had been done yelling and calling you names, he contacted the higher ups. Neither of you expected the woman on the other side of the line brushing the chef’s complaints off so easily —the guest had cleared up the situation already. She hung up with a grin in her voice after praising your ability to “befriend” such a powerful man, and you were left dumbfounded. Since that job covered most of your bills, it was a relief to keep it. That aside, you were fuming. One phone call, that’s all it took for him to make the problem disappear. Was life really so easy for him? Was he so dense to think his last name would solve anything? He surely didn’t give a shit about putting you in that situation in the first place, or your coworkers thinking of you as a slut. Above everything else, it pissed you off that he thought you needed to be saved, like it was his charity act of the month.

“My behaviour tonight was unacceptable and you shouldn’t be the one to pay for it. Now I see I overstepped, so I apologise for that too,” he said after a pause. His eyes softened and you noticed his shoulders drooping slightly. “It’s just— You do things to me, sweet cheeks, you don’t even realise. I can’t think straight around you. Not that that’s an excuse, but it’s the truth. I really am sorry, I didn’t want to cause you trouble.”

“Oh, thanks! That fixes everything. Glad that you got that out of your chest, wouldn’t want to make you feel guilty about it,” you sneered.

Seokjin followed like a watchdog as you resumed your walk, taking big steps in a futile attempt to leave the man behind. Not only him, but the inconvenient flutter in your stomach too. Mulling over his words, you chewed the inside of your cheek. You do things to me, sweet cheeks. So casual about it, he could’ve been chatting about the weather with a neighbour.

“Let me take you home, at least, to make sure you are safe,” he offered, taking your wrist to stop you.

“No,” you jerked away, his touch blistering your skin. “Don’t take me home, don’t call me, don’t text me.”

“I can’t help it. I like you, sweet cheeks. A lot. One night is not enough, I want more than that.”

You felt it, the skip in your heartbeat. Deep within you, it faltered. Scared, wounded, hopeful. Occasional sex was your usual go-to for a good reason. That’s why you only got involved with the “not-the-boyfriend-type” kind of men, to avoid those kinds of messy, unnecessary feelings. You didn’t need anyone to take away your individuality or change your life —you liked freedom. However, your issues with love ran deeper than that.

Admittedly, you were scared of letting anyone in. You’d been hurt and mocked many times, leashed and scolded enough to be reduced to a shell devoid of any worth. But you learned, hit after hit, and grew protective thorns everytime it happened. Yet, the sly bastard had managed to sneak behind your defenses. Maybe it wasn’t too late to get a hold of yourself.

“Well, it is for me. I’m sorry, but I don’t do the whole boyfriend thing anymore.”

“Tell me you don't like me back.” “Have I not been clear enough? I think I’ve showed you many times that I’m not interested.”

“You kissed me,” he countered, stopping you in your tracks. “The morning you left.”

You faced him after a deep breath, exhausted from his insistence. “That’s playing dirty. You were supposed to be sleeping.”

“Why did you? If you wanted a one time thing, you would’ve just left. But you kissed me goodbye,” he pressed. “Not to be nice or polite or because you thought you had to —I wouldn’t have noticed anyway. And yet, you decided to kiss me. Why?”

“Goddamn, rich boy. It was just a kiss, don’t read too much into it.”

“Fine,” he said, his tone stern with a hint of a snarl. “If you won’t, I’ll say it for you. You felt something that night and you feel it still, I can tell.”

“Let me get one thing straight: just because we fucked doesn’t mean you know me. Stop trying to decide what I do or do not feel. You can’t just magically appear in people's lives and expect to be the center of their existence. It’s so goddamn irritating, you are everywhere. If I’m at Dionysus, I get tense whenever that fucking door opens in case it’s you. Everytime I look at my phone there’s a stupid text, or worse, there’s nothing it messes my head up. Even my best friend won’t shut up about you! It’s like a horror movie, I swear. Just leave me alone, I don’t want whatever this shit is. It’s driving me insane.”

“This,” you gestured between the two after a heavy sigh, “was a one time thing, fun, nice sex. End of story.”

“Just nice?” Devilish smile already blooming, he stalked closer. “After all the screaming I was expecting good, at least. I’ll work harder next time, I’m aiming for A+.”

The moment he was close enough for you to have to crane your neck up, your burning gaze mixed with his. His cologne hit your senses and you remembered how it stuck to your tongue when you kissed his body, sweat and lust making the scent borderline intoxicating. It fuelled your resolve to turn him down before his voice trapped you under his spell —saccharine and enticing, like a siren.

“There’s no next time, so go try to get someone else fired,” you tried to cover the lack of steadiness in your words with a dismissive gesture.

“Oh, there will be, don’t you worry,” he chuckled before holding your glare with firm determination. “That pretty mouth might say one thing, but your body tells me otherwise. I know you can’t resist me, just like I can’t resist you. At some point you’re going to admit it and let me kiss you and fuck you how you want me to.”

He didn’t lean forward to level your eyes, didn’t let his hand wander on your body —he didn’t need to. Standing there, centimetres away from you, Seokjin knew he had a bigger effect on you than you anticipated. However, your pride took over. The right to decide your feelings wasn’t his and you were determined to show him.

“I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you.”

“Why not? I love winning.”

His cheshire grin set something ablaze in your gut. Unsure if it was irritation or something else, you took a step back. He looked stunning, his sharp suit accentuating those wide shoulders and dark locks neatly brushed back. But what really took you breath away was the glint in his eyes. Dangerous and playful at the same time, in complete dissonance with his impassive pose.

“Good night, Mr. Kim.”

This time, only his eyes followed as the streets of Seoul swallowed the sweet enigma that was you.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: @aretha170

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