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fetusgooseandjuice · 2 months ago

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Perfect

Pairing(s): Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: Natasha becomes insecure about her place in your life.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Tony Stark being a jerk

Authors Note: This is another mini-oneshot to my fic “Soulmates”. I’d recommend reading that one before this for context to be able to grasp the storyline! Also I have deleted this post and reposted it so many times because it wasn't showing up in the tag at first lol

Mini-oneshots: Forever | Promise

(Takes place before Natasha proposes in Forever)

“Great work today everyone, but stay behind just for a moment as we should have a guest arriving any minute now.” commander Fury said.

Natasha wiped her forehead with a towel before taking another big gulp of water. Her and the rest of the knights had just finished their weekly training session, and were now cleaning up to return home.

“If it’s another one of his war buddies coming to help tell all of their ‘stories in battle’ again, I’m slipping out the back gate.” Clint muttered.

The redhead rolled her eyes and chuckled, “You act as if you actually have somewhere else to be that’s not here.”

A playful scoff left the man, “I’ll have you know that I have a date later, and I’d prefer not to smell like dirt and sweat when I see her.”

Clint Barton was the first friend Natasha made when she began training to become a knight years ago. He specialized in archery, and would often help teach the trainees the ways of the bow and arrow.

He met Natasha after the arrow she’d shot nearly took the man’s head off— hence why her area of specialty was always hand-to-hand combat.

That was the first and last time he chose to stand off to the side whenever she held the weapon. From then on, he made a point to always stand behind her instead.

“Oh, so Laura finally agreed to go out with you?”

He shrugged with a smug smirk, “She was bound to say yes eventually,”

“May I have your attention everyone!” commander Fury’s booming voice sounded, interrupting their conversation.

Beside him now stood a familiar face.

“This is Lord Tony Stark,” he began, “He has been so kind to take the time to design us some new armor and weapons, so make sure to pick yours up from the armory at some point and thank Lord Stark on your way out. You’re all dismissed.”

At that, everyone moved to finish packing up and begin heading out.

Natasha was acquainted with the noble. His name had sometimes come up during your rants about the meetings you’d attended that day. Needless to say he was a genius, but at times could be a little self-absorbed and insensitive.

“As smart as that man is he sure can say some really dumb stuff.” Natasha remembered you saying.

She quickly grabbed her bag and made her way toward the exit of the training grounds, leaving Clint having to jog to catch up with her.

“So now you seem to have somewhere to be too,” he teased.

The redhead didn’t have the chance to make another playful remark as a smile overtook her features that’d be difficult for anyone to miss.

“Y/n is coming home from her trip to the neighboring kingdom tonight, and I want to do something nice for her.”

Clint raised his eyebrows, “Does this ‘something nice’ have anything to do with that ring in your bag?”

She’s had the ring for almost a month now. Yelena and her mother helped to pick it out, but she was still thinking about how and when to pop the question.

“Not yet,” Natasha said, “I haven’t spoken to the King and Queen about it, and I want it to be perfect when I ask her so I still have planning to do.”

The archer scrunched his nose in a faux look of disgust, “God, when did you become such a romantic? What are they feeding you over there in that castle?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “You’ll understand if things work out between you and Laura.”

As they approached the exit gate, the face of Lord Stark became clearer. He was exchanging a few words with each knight as they left, some deciding to shake the nobles hand as well.

When it was their turn, Clint gave a firm nod of his head and held out a hand for Lord Stark to shake.

“I wouldn’t suppose some new bows and arrows were included in this upgrade as well?”

Lord Stark raised his eyebrows, “Wouldn’t be much of a weapon upgrade if I left those out now would it?“

As Clint thanked him, Starks eyes now focused on Natasha when she stepped up, giving him a small smile of gratitude.

“Thank you for helping us out. It is much appreciated.” she said.

“Of course,” he gave a nod of his head. Just as the pair of knights went to leave he spoke up again, “Romanoff, right? The one with the Princess?”

Natasha turned back to him with a look of confusion etched on her face at the reason for his question.

“That would be me,” the redhead answered. “May I ask why?”

“No reason. Just surprised you two are still together is all.”

“Excuse me?”

Lord Stark laughed lightly, “Oh don’t get me wrong it is adorable. You know, the whole childhood sweetheart thing.”

“So what seems to be the problem?” a displeased frown settled upon the knights eyebrows.

“I’m only shocked she isn’t bored of you yet with how long you’ve been together.” he chuckled, “I mean she is the Princess. Plenty of people have their eyes on her, and who’s to say she hasn’t been looking at them too?”

“What’s it to you?” Natasha snapped, “What is the point you’re trying to make here?”

She didn’t even know why she still standing there listening to him, much less engaging in the frustrating conversation.

“Relax, I was only joking. No need to get so defensive.” the noble chuckled.

“Well then I guess I failed to understand what was funny about anything you said,” Natasha said as she readjusted the bag on her shoulder, “Have a good rest of your day, Lord Stark.”

With that, the redhead brushed past the man and stormed out of the courtyard.

She didn’t know how she managed to stay talking to him for that long, but she knew if she stuck around any longer things probably wouldn’t have ended the best way for either of them.

The archer was quick to catch up to his best friend, a look of concern now sat on his face.

“Are you alright, Nat?” he asked, “The nerve of that man is insane.”

Natasha nodded, “I’ll be fine, I just needed to walk away.”

“You know nothing he said is true, right?” Clint assured, “Y/n loves you and everyone can see that. They’re blind if they don’t.”

“I know,” she said, “I just want to get back and clean up before she gets home. You should probably do the same.”

As hesitant as he was to leave his friend alone, she was right. “Okay, but I’ll see you tomorrow alright?”

Natasha agreed and said her goodbyes to the man before they went their separate ways.

When you arrived home in the evening, the knight had asked the cooks to prepare your favorite to eat. She’d gathered both of your families in the dining room to share the meal, knowing how much you enjoyed family dinners after being away.

Everything appeared to be just as you had left it. Your mother and Melina were busy with their normal chatter; your father and Alexei chiming in as well. Natasha and Yelena were engaging in their everyday sibling banter.

But despite that Natasha didn’t seem like herself.

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint what was wrong, but it was clear that something was up based on the way she’d occasionally zone out. You’d have to call her name multiple times to gain her attention again.

Even then, she was tense and had a distant look in her eyes. As if she was afraid to look at you for too long.

“Is everything okay, Nat?” you’d asked her several times throughout the night.

Each time she flashed you her usual charming smile that always made you melt, and responded with an “Of course I am, princess. Why wouldn’t I be?”

You weren’t totally convinced.

The suspicions you had were confirmed as everyone was finishing up the last of their dinner and began cleaning up. The redhead had excused herself from the table, but never returned.

About a half hour had passed when worry had finally got the best of you, and you decided to search for your girlfriend. You first looked in the places she frequented most in the castle, but every room you searched you came out empty handed.

With one last place in mind, you made your way through the halls and out the front doors of the castle.

~ ~ ~

Natasha nocked the arrow onto the string and drew it back just as Clint showed her many times before, her eyes locked in on the target set up across the training grounds.

She took a deep breath in, releasing it completely before letting the string go. The arrow slid off her fingertips as it shot through the air and past the target, missing it completely.

The knight huffed and let her arms drop down to her sides as she stared at the still untouched bullseye despite her having shot four others before that.

“I think you’re supposed to be aiming for the target, you do know that right?”

Natasha turned to see you making your way over to her. She laughed and set the bow down as she sat on the grass. You joined her, deciding that this was more important than your mother lecturing you over the dress that would inevitably become dirty.

“I guess today is just not my day,” she shrugged.

“Anything you want to talk about?” you wondered, giving her the floor to speak freely, “You weren’t exactly acting like yourself at dinner.”

Natasha should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to hide this from you. You knew her like the back of your hand, and vice versa. Nothing ever got past the other.

“I just missed you is all,” she answered, giving you a small smile for extra reassurance.

Once again, you weren’t fooled.

“I missed you too, Nat. But that doesn’t explain it since I’m home now.” you said.

The redhead went silent, chirping from the crickets hiding out in the trees filling the air instead. She had no grounds to deny your words because she knew you’d see right through her.

“So what’s actually going on? Did something happen while I was gone?”

Natasha shook her head, “It’s nothing, really. I don’t want you to worry.”

“Well it’s a little too late for that,” you lightly chuckled, “And it’s clearly something if it’s bothering you this much. Was it something I did?”

“No!” she quickly assured, “God no, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“So then talk to me, my love. Please,” you pleaded and reached to take her hand, your thumb stroking over the back of her palm.

The knight sighed and forced herself to look straight ahead. The gentleness in your eyes made her want to tell you everything.

Every thought she’s ever had, every secret she’s ever kept, every feeling she’s ever felt. That’s just the effect you had on her.

You made everything okay.

The worries and stresses plaguing her mind just seemed to dissipate little by little until they were gone whenever she was with you.

And as much as Natasha fell in love with you because of that, she was now questioning if she even deserved to have you look at her the way you were.

“Do you ever think about what it would be like if you’d chosen someone else to be with?”

Your eyes slightly widened as your mouth opened just to shut again multiple times in disbelief.

“What?”

Out of all the things you could’ve predicted her to say, that was not one of them.

“You’ve never been with anyone before me. We became exclusive as teenagers, and you just stuck with me.” Natasha explained, and you nodded to confirm what she said was true.

“Do you not ever wonder what it’d feel like to be with someone else?”

“Nat, where is this coming from?” you asked, “Have you been thinking about that for a while, or did someone say something?”

The redhead finally looked at you, sadness evident in her gaze, “Lord Stark stopped by during training.” she said, and you had a good idea of where this was going now.

“He made us some new equipment and when I went to talk to him, he said he was surprised you were still with me. That he was shocked you hadn’t gotten bored yet.”

You had first hand experience working with the noble during council meetings for the kingdom and his ideas were beneficial, but he was also notorious for his filterless mouth.

A sigh left your lips and you squeezed her hand, “Nat, I don’t think Lord Stark has ever kept a woman around for more than a few weeks, so he’s probably familiar with people getting tired of him.” you chuckled.

Natasha cracked a smile, but it was short lived.

“You don’t think he has a point, though?”

“No, I do not.” you said. You wish you could slap Lord Stark for making her feel like this. “I’ve never wanted anyone else because I found everything I need in you.”

The redhead looked down at your connected hands, fighting the urge to fidget with your finger she hoped to soon have decorated with the ring in the bag lying next to her. She opted to interlace your fingers instead.

“I just don’t want you to feel like you have to settle for me just because I’m your first relationship.”

“Oh, Nat. Come here,” you tugged on her hand and guided the knight to lay on her side, her head resting safely in your lap. “You don’t understand how perfect you are.”

Your fingers began to run through her messily braided her, brushing back the loose strands from in front of her face. Natasha immediately relaxed under your touch.

“Perfect might be a bit of a stretch,” she murmured.

“I don’t think it is,” you disagreed, “You look out for your parents, and Yelena, and the people you love. Even people you don’t know because you’re so selfless.”

Now that you’ve started, you could probably go on for hours about all the reasons you chose Natasha Romanoff over anybody else. You probably would because it’s clear she needs to hear them in this moment.

“And you’re just as sweet with me. The way you take care of me. The way you always know what I need before I even know myself. It’s like you have a sixth sense,” you giggled and you felt the redhead chuckle against you too.

“Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you because to me you’re just so perfect in every way imaginable.”

That was when Natasha decided to maneuver onto her back instead, now staring straight up at you.

“There you are,” you grinned softly down at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Your head tilted as your fingers continued to card through her red strands, “For what?”

“I don’t know why I was acting like that. I was being ridiculous.”

“Nat, you were not being ridiculous. You were feeling vulnerable and that’s okay. You don’t have to act like you’re fine when you’re not around me.”

“I know,” Natasha said and took your freehand to bring it up so she could press a kiss to the back of it. “I know, princess. I love you so much,”

You smiled softly at her and leaned down enough to connect your lips. It was slow and gentle, you just wanted her to know you were here and not going anywhere.

When you pulled back you didn’t go very far, your face still hovering centimeters above hers, “Hey,” you mumbled.

She opened her eyes at that to meet your gaze.

“It’s you, and it’ll only ever be you. Okay?”

Natasha softly smiled against yours lips and nodded, “Okay,”

You gave her one last peck before urging her to sit up when you began standing, “Alright, now show me how it’s really done.”

The knight stood up as well and watched you pick up her bow along with another arrow from the bag. She rose an eyebrow and crossed her arms as she looked at you amusingly.

“What are you doing?” Natasha chuckled.

You pushed the weapon into her hands before backing away, “I want to watch you practice,” you answered simply.

Natasha shook her head, “As much as I love it when you watch, I think you’d just be disappointed.”

“Come on, just try one more time, please?”

Of course, the redhead struggled to say no to your face. Natasha sighed and turned towards the target once again, correcting her stance like she’d done earlier and nocked the arrow.

Drawing back the string, she precisely aimed the arrow and exhaled a deep breath before letting go. The knight expected it to miss by a long shot like they had earlier, but was proven wrong when it landed dead center in the bullseye.

You had an innocent smile on your face when Natasha turned to look back at you, like you had known she’d hit the bullseye when you first forced the bow into her hands.

“What was that about today not being your day?” you wondered.

God, you really did make everything okay.

Natasha broke into a big grin and motioned you towards her, “Come here,” she said.

Your head tilted slightly at her request, but still made your way over to her, “What?”

She just chuckled. “I want to show you how to shoot a bow,”

The redhead was now realizing that she’d probably be needing that ring much sooner than she originally thought.

~ end ~

Authors Note PT 2: I don’t know if I like this one but here it is! Also I finally decided to give the commander a name and add in Clint bc you can’t have a Natasha series without her best friend ofc

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanov #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha romonova #natasha fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff mcu #natasha angst #natasha alianovna romanova #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst

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tacoma-narrows · 7 months ago

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Between the Sea and the Sky!

Hi everybody! Meet the TWO new guys I made between last night and today! Their names are Tarmac (an Aeromorph dog) and Soda (a pooltoy fox), and they've filled a desire for these two specific kinds of OCs I've had in mind for MONTHS lol. They were super fun to design and draw and I'm super excited to do more with them soon!! This piece is relatively simple but more so serves as their introduction hehe

See more about them, including refs and some additional pieces/information below the cut :] (it kind of turns into a huge braindump lmao)

Tarmac is an aeromorph, although a bit more towards the furry side of things rather than the plane side lol. His design is influenced primarily by the Concorde and the Space Shuttle! I couldn't decide for the life of me which of those two things I wanted to use so I thought "why not use both?" and here we are lol. I'm super happy with his design, with the black/dark gray markings mean to emulate the look of the Space Shuttle's thermal insulation tiles and then I really like how the red and blue stand out against the gray. I really like his icon too! I wanted to make it look like a stylized depiction of a plane (mainly a Concorde hehe) breaking through the sound barrier with a sonic boon! In terms of personality, I don't have a whole lot in mind yet. Mostly that he'd be the brave, adventurous type and since he can fly both in the air and through space, he's gonna be friends with Astro too :3

Soda is a pooltoy fox! I have wanted to make a pooltoy OC FOREVER (blame my mutuals for always posting/reblogging so many cool pooltoy OCs hehe). I finally got brave enough to actually give it a shot, and I love how he came out! I was mainly just thinking about summery themes and as I was just trying out different colors and stuff, I thought about orange soda, and that's the direction I ended up going! He's got a big stupid tail [affectionate] and can have either rounded bappy hands or have actual fingers, you're free to stylize that either way! I've only ever drawn a pooltoy character once ever before, so this was something way out of my realm of familiarity, but I'm so happy with how he came out! He's so shaped I love him so much already <33

So those are my two new guys! Making two new OCs at the same time is already a rarity for me lol. The only time it's happened before was when I made Rye and Pumpernickel back in August of 2021. And then making these guys when I had only gotten Astro about two and a half weeks ago means this is an exceedingly rare event for me lmao. My friends know how infrequently I make/get new OCs, so this just goes to show how much these guys have been bouncing around in my brain lately lol.

They are definitely gonna have some sort of connection to each other, but I'm not sure how I wanna go about that yet. Since I made them back to back, they are already connected in my brain, but I'm not sure how I wanna express that in a meaningful way. I don't wanna make them siblings bc, well, they're obv very different from each other lol, but they're kinda parallels (with one being in the sky and the other being in the water yknow), so as of right now they're definitely good friends with each other. I might upgrade that to bfs at some point in the future, but we'll see how things go hehe.

Anyways huge braindump of a post lmao, thank u for reading if u did! I'd love to hear your thoughts on these guys since they're so different from all my other characters! Also if anyone may wanna do an art trade of either of these guys (or Astro as well! I'd like to get more art of him too!) let me know hehe

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jaelaxies · 1 year ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

fluff; wc:. 634.

Soobin x fem reader!;good sugary fluff; established relationship au!; domestic fluff!; tw: none.

Song recommendation: Call It What You Want —Taylor Swift (reputation)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

I observed in utter silence the slow pace of his breathing, his big rosy lips parted apart just enough to let a swift current air let go out of his mouth; his black hair was falling softly in his forehead. I smiled, admiring him. The way his eyelashes were longer than mine and how they had the pleasure to cover the most beautiful doe eyes that ever looked at me; his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic motion; his long arm curled around my waist, our legs tangled together and our foreheads touching. This was home.

I closed my eyes when the flashing memory of meeting Soobin appeared in my head. It was my most treasured memory. At that time, I couldn’t believe less in fairy tales or fate. Fingers were always pointed at me, rated like a service and criticized at every movement; rumors spreading about my life were more interesting than the solitary one I lived. I didn’t know if anyone could love someone like me, but there was one soul who stepped out of the ugly crowd. In the vast sea of jesters, snakes and judges, there stood a real prince.

Treated my thorns like a maze and made his way slowly but surely to the entrance to my heart. Soobin was special, never judging my past mistakes rather focusing in the present me, sparkly eyes always greeting me with a smile and a hug. He made a withered rose bloom again. Always walking next to me and intertwining our very different hands to make me feel safe; made me realize that I had fallen for this gentleman long time ago and was too afraid to even say it and ruin everything. But, that fateful day, running to me; rain covering his whole body and engulfing me in a hug, the same familiar embrace I grew to love; I accepted this love of ours could last for way more than I thought.

—I love you, Choi Soobin. — I whispered while softly separating his black locks to place my lips in his forehead, kissing it. He stirred a bit, waking up slowly; his eyes still glistening but his soft gaze met me with a lopsided smile.

—I love you more. — He whispered in a raspy low tone, still his words always made my inside feel this warmth that was inexplicably peaceful and I loved it. He lowered his head to my neck, just resting there, nuzzling his face a bit before brushing his lips just over the shiny metal of the chain with his initial, dangling at the end. Can we stay a little bit more like this? — I said while he took his time to fully hug me now, both of his arms pulling me even closer to him. I laughed in a whisper and let my hand travel to the back of his head, playing with the ends of his hair. Immediately hearing his grateful humming, he always liked the small gestures and I always liked to feel his happiness like I did now, his body language was as relaxed as ever; the whole faded to nothing when we were with each other.

—We can stay like this forever…— He spoke again, his voice barely reaching my ears but I could feel the smile forming in his lips as he caressed my jaw with feather like kisses. I smiled too, this was like a dream; except it wasn’t, Soobin was mine and I was his. — The world can wait.

Yes, the world could wait. I giggled and allowed my head to wonder to dreamland as I adjusted my position to be more comfortable, my eyelids starting to close as sleep took over me; his last words echoing softly in my mind. A forever with Soobin? That sounded about right.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･

Thanks for all the love on the recent post's, i appreciate it so much! writing has been helping me to get some stress out of my system and seeing you guys enjoy it just makes my day🤍

As always, feedback is really appreciated and I’ll love if you could reblog or comment if you really liked this one!

With love, *°࿐Stella🤍

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wistfulnightingale · 4 days ago

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The Chess Moves Theory Set (New Ideas About the Final 15)

*An 8-Part set of Interconnected MetaTheories that support each other and might start to answer some interesting questions.

Did you have any nagging thoughts about things that didn't make sense from the last 2 episodes of Good Omens S2? Out-of-character moments, or odd changes in mood, or just little things someone said that stood out, but you weren't sure Why?

Me too.

For me, it was Especially because I became convinced that Aziraphale and Crowley committed to each other as loving partners on that bus ride home from the almost-Apocalypse, and that we were seeing An Old Married Couple as S2 opened. They were sweet, but stable, with set looks and comfortable touch and familiar quarrels, and now a sudden dramatic crisis had strolled up to their doorstep in all his naked glory...

So, for many months I was poring over YouTube videos, rewatching full episodes -- with headphones, or not, with captions, without sound, with sound but not watching the visuals.... Bonkers, right? But, as the Cheshire Cat said, "We're all mad here." And Alice later told the Hatter, "...I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are!"

I saw so many wonderful questions about S2 being asked by my fellow madly devoted Ineffables fans. It occurred to me that maybe we needed to ask all the questions at the same time, in order to come closer to the answers we were looking for, instead of looking at one question as the key. Similar to chess, where no singular move can win the match without the other moves and counter-moves.

I came up with 8 Mini-Theories I christened The Chess Moves Theory Set that all impact and support each other. Some may seem too wild or weird for the ineffable path you follow, some you might love, some may (I hope) turn out to be on the right track, and some may prove to be altogether wrong. But I did my best, and I do believe all of them are supported as theories by what I discovered and what I describe in each meta-theory analysis. I hope they are also consistent with the vision Terry Pratchett had for the final story. Even if I was mistaken, at least it gives us something fun to talk about until then!

Tumblr doesn't make it easy to prep and link 8 theory posts and a Master Post -- I tried (oh so hard!) to put cross-links in each one for you, and it just couldn't happen at posting time. Annnd, I'd also foolishly put my works-in-progress from "draft" into "private" 5 days ago! This makes it even tougher for you to get to them. So here's a nice shiny new post with all 8 Mini-Theories plus the Master Post that explains how Chess and Magic connect to all this:

The 8 Chess Moves Theory Set:

1 - The Metatron Misdirection

2 - The Metatron's Second Coming

3 - Ineffables in Check

4 - A Hefty Jigger of Death

5 - Nothing Lasts Forever

6 - The Circle Kiss Theory

7 - The Nightingale DID Sing

8 - Aziraphale's Jubilant Smile

Also: The Chess Moves Theory Set, Why Chess & Magic?

(If anyone has trouble with any links in any of the blogs, please let me know asap, and I'll try to fix it! I had some issues when I tried to cross-link everything!)

I also linked them in my pinned post on my blog page, "I Believe In Nightingales" at @wistfulnightingale.

I hope you enjoy them, if you decide to check them out! I'd love to have you along on this crazy ride until we get to the final chapter for our Beloved Ineffable Husbands!

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens theories #chess moves theory #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #the metatron #a nightingale sang in berkeley square #a hefty jigger of almond syrup #the final fifteen #final 15 #wistfulnightingale #terry pratchett #thank you rob and rhianna #to our world

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skybristle · 1 year ago

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Spider Lily lore go

hmmm you see thats a bit Much for 2 reasons: 1] spider lily is a 'folk tale' esque character, in fact, they were made because my close friend drake came up to me with them as ,,, folk characters as an explanation for a phenomena [in their case, the cosmic void, which is more of a Their fanon thing, in mine more generally black magic and specifically the licorice sea]. flor [and flors partner, sea angel] lived MILLENIA ago. and 2] while a complicated character spider lily is a smidge underdeveloped ,,, unforunately sea angel is just easier to put lore together with due to her direct ties to starfruit dragon. so. ill give you what i can!

so, as a premtive, a big part of my fanon was the first war of cookiekind. how it was started didn't really matter, besides it was somewhere up north where the cacao kingdom is today, but it escalated because the war god strawberry jam spirit was created from the blood shed, and millenials attempt to calm things down by sealing them in a sword uhm. Just made everyone fight over the cool epic god sword since the alliances and trade had already collapsed into a mess of fighting at this point. huh,,,, a cursed blood sword that compells anyone carrying it into a brutish monster,,, that sounds familiar! hope that isn't important later!

spider lily was from the lily villiage, but is a mage practicing blood and black magic [+ some floral magic, and maybe a bit stolen from millenial tree's roots]. Keep in mind magic does not have morality in my fanon and the whole 'blood magic' thing isn't really bad either [spider lily mainly just hurts. themself.] but like regardless they're kinda like Jesus Christ! and kick flor out.

so flor is just kinda chilling and wandering. maybe doing some shady shit but hey war mages are high in demand and with tons of blood and agony just *laying around*, spider lily is quite the threat.

insert sea angel, who is having a whole messed up religious and devotion complex and also really really overwhelmed with being The Chosen One and goes ok! I'll slay this mage to prove myself! and OOPS! All homoerotic battle that ends in them making out.

their relationship is actually very long-lasting, and ends up being very deep and passionate, all in the hellzone they're in thats really just the 'who of the week has the sword'. eventually, as their 'marriage', they swear oaths to eachother. spider lily binds them by blood, sea angel with a dragontounge oath, to share heart, mind, soul, and, the one which is going to ruin them, magic.

and. uhm. Yeah one of them falls in battle. Which leads to the other trying to save them, which is, unsurprisngly, disasterous. Taking more and more out of the fold of magic and power to get sucked into the magic loop, which,,, eventually collapses itno the licorice sea. This *basically* kills them, but their souls are entrapped in it forever as its twisted 'ruler' [this is void heart, that fucked up little lineless drawing i did a bit ago. It is Both of them <3 they are in agony <3].

their story is more abt the ramifications it has on the rest of my fanon. primarily, it gets an observer, wisteria, a powerful war mage on her own right, to finally realize how dumb and pointless this all is and going after the sword to seal it [eventually earning herself godhood and setting into motion a Ton of plot elements], starfruit dragon, wracked by even more guilt and regret, goes into a completely sleeping state that lets their magic leech out badly enough that in the modern republic people are getting light magic infestations with horrible consequences, and, slightly post-canon, void heart is 'killed' [their souls are set free] by dark roast when he's like "damn i miss my kids [latte and espresso] i'm going to become a god about it" and he fucking DOES.

#there is more niche detail but thats the basics #sky rambles #cookie run oc

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gwydionae · 2 years ago

Text

It's Not Going to Fix Itself

A/N: I just needed some Raph and Mikey bonding. Haven't written nearly enough of that lately.

Posted on fanfiction.net >here<.

Teaser: "I don't need help from you or anyone else!" The words were spat from Raph's mouth with such venom that anyone else might have believed them, but Mikey was more convinced than ever that dodging his older brother's angry, wild swings was exactly where he needed to be at that moment.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Takes place sometime after "Casey Jones vs. the Underworld".

It's Not Going to Fix Itself

"Seriously, how can they not be done yet?"

Mikey barely glanced at Raph who sat huffing with indignation on the bench in the common room, glaring down at his T-phone as if that might make it ring sooner. His older brother had been groaning and complaining ever since Donnie had taken off in the Shellraiser after a call from Casey. Apparently he had found some old car for cheap and bought it with the intention of having his own vigilante ride, but he hadn't even made it two blocks before the thing broke down. Raph had offered to tag along as he and Casey had talked about going on patrol that night, but Donnie had shut that idea down, noting that Raph's lack of knowing anything about how cars worked would only make him a distraction.

And so for the last hour and a half, Michelangelo's monster movie had been punctuated with the occasional growl and bark from his most short-tempered sibling. A typical Tuesday, then.

"I'm not gonna just sit here all night waiting for Casey's new toy to be fixed!"

"Pretty sure you said that, like, forever ago, dude," said Mikey, eyes never even leaving the TV screen. He really should have expected the pillow thrown at his head in response.

Not five minutes later, Raph was on his feet and stomping toward the lair's entrance. "That's it. I'm done waiting. Forget Casey and that stupid piece of junk that idiot got conned into buying."

"If you see Donnie, remind him he owes me some pizza gyoza," said Mikey as he lazily raised a hand in a wave, ignoring the rude gesture he received in response.

To be honest, Mikey was surprised it had taken as long as it had for Raph to storm off on his own. If he didn't know better, he might've guessed it was due to the current sad state of the city above as the residents of NYC tried to rebuild their lives after being subjected to an alien invasion for over half a year. The Kraang might be gone, but the streets and back alleys were meaner than ever, and going out alone was asking for trouble. But he did know better, and Raph loved trouble, so if anything, he should have taken off the moment he knew Casey was stuck on the side of the road somewhere.

Too distracted by his cheesy B movie to give it more than a passing thought, it wasn't until he heard the sound of the Shellraiser returning followed by not one but two familiar voices that he perked up, looking around curiously. Hopping up from his beanbag, he wandered over towards the garage and peeked inside. Donnie and Casey were talking animatedly, a beat up piece of machinery he supposed must have been a car at some point sitting next to them.

Mikey couldn't help but laugh, thoughts of his owed gyoza drowned out by the misshapen hunk of metal. "Dude, is this your new ride? What happened, did Donnie hit it with the Shellraiser?"

Turning toward him as he entered the room, Casey flashed him a proud smirk and patted the rusty hood. "You'll see. This little baby is gonna tear up the streets when me an' Donnie get through with her." He smacked said turtle roughly on his shell. "We've got so many ideas—it's gonna be wicked!"

"Your vehicle actually has to appear street legal, don't forget," said Donnie as he walked over to his shelf to grab his toolbox. "We mutant turtles would avoid the police regardless, but you at least have to make an attempt to obey traffic laws or else you could lose your license." He set down his toolbox next to the supposed car and shot Casey a wry smirk, "But let's worry about getting it to actually start first, shall we?"

"I'm telling you, the alternator is shot. Piece of cake, you'll see," said Casey as he popped the hood, wrestling with it a bit in order to get it to not only open but then stay open. "So let's get to it, D! Gotta fix this baby up so I can use it to strike fear into the hearts of evil everywhere!"

Mikey blinked. "You're working on it now?"

"It's not going to fix itself, Mikey," said Donnie patronizingly.

"But what about Raph?"

Casey and Donnie shared a glance before turning back to him, near identical looks of mild confusion on both of their faces. "Uh, what about Raph?" said Casey.

All three now wore the same expression. "Raph said you guys were going out tonight?" The statement came out as more of a question, Mikey suddenly wondering if maybe he had blocked out his older brother's grumblings better than he'd realized. The look of understanding that dawned on Casey's face told him that he hadn't.

"Oh, right," he said, smacking himself in the side of the head, "I totally forgot. Aw crud, guess I won't make it tonight after all. Tell'im for me, would ya, Mikey?" And with that, he turned back toward the exposed engine. "So that alternator—"

"Raph already left," Mikey blurted out, his brother's behavior from earlier nagging at the back of his brain. "Maybe you should call and talk to him."

Donnie raised an eyeridge. "If he's already gone, then there's nothing to worry about," he said, joining Casey in front of the engine, "aside from exactly how much trouble he's going to get into while out alone, anyway. It's probably best not to bother him."

"Yeah, it's cool." Casey didn't even turn around, craning his neck as if searching for something. "We'll bash some heads in some other time. But right now, Casey Jones is in need of some epic wheels!" Shoulders suddenly slumping, he let out a sigh, "Oh, man. Looks like we'll have to jack the car to get to it."

"'Piece of cake', huh?" mocked Donnie with a smirk.

The two car junkies already completely lost in their own world, Mikey silently exited the garage and headed back to the common room. Flopping onto his beanbag shell first, he lay sprawled out, staring upside-down at the bright colors flashing across the TV screen without really paying attention to the scene playing out before him. His brain kept stewing over everything he'd heard in the last two hours, a light frown on his face.

Casey calling Donnie for help, Raph waiting hours for any sign that Casey was going to show, Donnie offering to help Casey soup up his car, Casey forgetting his plans with Raph and not even calling to tell him...

When was the last time Raph and Casey had gone out on patrol together anyway?

"Think I could use some fresh air."

Jumping up, Michelangelo made a dash for the nearest exit, not even bothering to turn off the TV. As soon as he was topside, he headed straight for the area of town he knew Raph and Casey liked to patrol—Purple Dragon territory was perfect for "bashing in a few heads". Running from rooftop to rooftop, he kept his eyes trained on the alleys below, looking for any signs of a brawl, but it wasn't long before noises from above caught his attention. Next to him stood a building only a few stories higher than the rest in the area, but it was just tall enough that if he wanted to find out whatever was going on up there, he'd have to investigate more closely. Judging by the crashing, banging, and cursing, he thought he had a pretty good idea.

Climbing up the fire escape to reach the top, Mikey peeked over the edge, unsurprised when he found Raphael positively destroying a giant air duct vent. The poor thing was a mangled mess, and Mikey only hoped that his shell wouldn't wind up resembling it.

With a flip, he hopped onto the roof with a smile. "Hey, Raph! I been looking everywhere for—"

He was cut off by a loud growl as his brother smashed another sizable dent into the ductwork. "Buzz off, Mikey," he said, hands balled into tight fists, "unless you want me to start aiming for your face."

"How about we both aim at some other faces instead?" he pressed on, undaunted by the threat. "Pretty sure I saw a bunch of Purple Dragons ov—AHH!"

Mikey quickly jumped out of the way as a large fist was suddenly on a collision course with his head. Flipping and somersaulting across the roof, Raph kept up the chase, teeth grit in an angry scowl as he barreled full steam ahead.

"I said, get lost!" he shouted, swinging wildly as Mikey easily avoided the assault.

"Dude, chill!" he cried, holding out his hands in a sign of peace. "I'm just here to—WOAH!" He expertly ducked out of the way of a particularly vicious punch, Raph's fist instead colliding with some metal framework with a muffled clang.

"I don't need help from you or anyone else!"

The words were spat from his mouth with such venom that anyone else might have believed them, but Mikey kept up his dance, more convinced than ever that this was exactly where he needed to be.

"That why you complained about Casey for almost two hours?" he said, words that would normally be dripping with sarcasm now said plainly.

"Casey can go screw himself for all I care!" Mikey did not miss the slight stiffening of his rampaging brother's muscles. "If he wants to waste all his time with Donnie on that stupid, beat up tin can, then fine! Good riddance! Who needs'im?"

Making sure to keep eye contact while still avoiding getting his skull caved in, Mikey spoke in a calm, light tone, "I know how it feels to be left out, you know." Raph flinched at his words, his swings losing some of their ferocity. "So you could pummel me into oblivion, or—" the younger slowed to a halt, hands up in surrender, "—maybe you could talk about it?"

Fist still heading towards his face, Mikey closed his eyes with a grimace, waiting for the painful impact. But as said impact never came, he peeled one eye open to see wrapped knuckles inches from his nose, shaking ever so slightly. The hand was quickly lowered with a growl, still balled into a tight fist at Raph's side as he glared at a random spot on the ground.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he said before seating himself on the rooftop with a huff, knees pulled up as he crossed his arms on top of them. The childish display was undercut by the nearly imperceptible crack in his generally confident tone as well as green eyes that always seemed to reveal more than his older brother would probably like.

Despite the verbal rebuff, Michelangelo plopped himself onto the roof next to him, happy to have seemingly calmed the beast without a scratch. "When was the last time you and Casey went out on patrol, anyway?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Raph shrugged and scoffed, "Weeks ago? We've been out together once since the invasion. Streets are worse than ever, and now that dufus wants to spend all his time on a hunk of junk that looks like Donnie ran it over with the Shellraiser?"

Mikey laughed. "Dude, that's exactly what I—wait," his face scrunched in confusion, "when'd you see it?"

Shrinking even more into himself, Raph muttered, "Caught'em right before they took off. Just kept yammering on about all the weird stuff Casey wanted to do to it."

Neither Donnie nor Casey had mentioned seeing him, which could only mean he hadn't wanted them to. Raphael was pretty hard to miss with his booming voice and heavy footsteps, which was normally how he seemed to like it. Based on their conversation in the garage, though, it wasn't hard for Mikey to guess why this time had been an exception.

"Have you tried talking to Casey about it?" said Mikey, though he was positive he already knew the answer, even before Raph's derisive scoff had left his mouth.

"And say what? That I'm mad at him for not hanging out with me enough? Yeah, that'll help," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Just tell him you wanna hang out more."

Raph fixed him with a glare. "Who do you think was the one who wanted to go out tonight? I've been asking him ever since we got the lair fixed up," he said, the bitterness in his tone unmistakable. "We used to team up several times a week, but lately he just heads out on his own. You heard his whole 'solo vigilante' bullcrap! And now he's got this piece of junk that he's perfectly fine working on with a guy he could barely stand a few months ago?" He turned away with an annoyed huff. "I don't need to be a genius to get the message."

Much as Mikey wanted to, it was hard to argue against Raph's logic. Casey's solo ventures hadn't exactly been a secret, and he had been hanging out with Donatello a lot more ever since the two were stuck working under the same roof back at the farmhouse. Raph had been quiet and distant at the time, likely too worried about Leonardo lying comatose in a bathtub to notice the change in dynamics. Not that Casey and Donnie getting along was a bad thing—even Raph had seemed relieved that their spiteful rivalry over April had morphed into a far friendlier sort of banter. But if Casey really was choosing to spend all his time either with Donnie or by himself and next to none with the guy that was supposed to be his best friend, well, it would be pretty impossible not to take that personally.

All the talk of friends not really hanging out in a while had Mikey's thoughts drifting to Leatherhead. He hadn't seen him since the defeat of the Kraang, and he'd been meaning to stop by the Mutanimal's new base of operations for a visit.

He suddenly perked up, his brain finally reminding him of who else would be there.

"Maybe you could hang out with Slash," he said cheerily. "He seems to be pretty chill now that he's with the Mutanimals." The suggestion had been offered with the best of intentions, but the way Raph stiffened at the mere mention of his former pet turtle had Mikey wondering if he'd missed something.

"Right," said Raph, voice still bitter as Donnie's morning coffee. "Slash, the guy who turned down my offer to team up because he was 'better off solo' and then turned around and teamed up with Pigeon Pete." He snorted dismissively. "Yeah, I'm sure the fact that he and Casey both did the exact same thing is just a coincidence."

Mikey swallowed a grimace at the forgotten similarities between the two, but refused to give up so easily. "But maybe—"

"Look, just," Raph cut him off, but rather than sharp, his tone sounded more resigned as he let out a sigh, "go home, Mikey. It's not like any of this really matters anyway, so stop worrying about me."

"Of course it matters, dude!" Jumping to his feet, Mikey wore a look of determination. Bending over toward his older brother who looked back incredulously, he planted both hands on his waist. "You think I don't know what this feels like? I watched the rest of my bros hang out with new friends without me for like a year before we busted Leatherhead out of Dimension X! And how about Chris Bradford—big dude, real famous, member of the Foot clan that pretended to be my friend before getting double mutated into a creepy wolf monster? I was seriously bummed out, thought I'd never make a real friend!" Plopping himself back down next to Raph, Mikey lightly elbowed him in the side. "But then someone cheered me up, told me that I deserved better. What kind of bro wouldn't wanna return the favor?"

The look Raph directed at him held a twinge of guilt. "I just tried to pound your face in, like, ten seconds ago, Mikey," he said flatly. "I'm pretty sure you don't owe me anything."

Michelangelo didn't usually try to talk his most volatile sibling out of one of his more violent moods, but seeing him sitting there gloomily with worst case scenarios stewing in his head made him wish he'd tried more often. Normally Raph exuded confidence—frequently to the point of arrogance—never showing any signs of resignation or loneliness. But if he was showing those signs now, it seemed likely that other angry tirades might be due to feeling similarly dispirited, and Mikey had to wonder how much of Raph's confidence was specifically used to hide that fact.

If that was true, simply trying to talk him into feeling better seemed a bit of a hopeless cause. Long ingrained patterns of behavior weren't broken with words—they were broken with actions.

"You know what, you're right," he said at last, his tone so matter-of-fact that Raph gave him a curious glance out of the corner of his eye. "You did try to pound my face in, and all I wanted to do was help. That definitely means that now you owe me. So I say we head on over to Murakami-san's to pick up some pizza gyoza and then swing by the Mutanimals' place so we can all enjoy it together."

He did not miss the way the scowl already present on Raphael's face seemed to darken.

"Mikey..."

"What?" he replied innocently. "There'd be plenty! We could split it, like, ten for me, five for you, and—"

Expectedly, Raph cut him off. "I know what you're doing, so just drop it."

Mikey fixed him with a pointed look. "When was the last time you actually talked to Slash?" he asked before quickly adding, "while not in the middle of trashing a bunch of Kraang, I mean."

Looking away, Raph rested his chin on his arms as he muttered, "Probably before I knew he hated the name 'Spike' so much."

"That's what I'm saying!" Mikey jumped to his feet. "That's, like, forever ago, dude! Would you know how to act around a guy whose family you tried to flatten into turtle pizzas? Maybe he just feels super awkward and doesn't have a clue what to say." Crouching down directly in front of his brother, he reached out and gently nudged a folded arm. "Come on, Raph. Talk to him just this once! I promise that if you're right and you guys really can't be friends anymore, the two of us'll stay out the rest of the night pummeling Purple Dragons, destroying ductwork, and inhaling ice cream. Whaddya say?"

For a moment, it seemed as if his words had fallen on deaf ears, but soon green eyes were once again fixed on him, an eyeridge raised quizzically above them.

"'Inhaling ice cream'?" Raph repeated dryly, the barest hints of amusement tugging at one of the corners of his mouth.

Mikey grinned. "I figure we can skip the customary sappy movie, but why deny ourselves frozen, creamy goodness?" he said with a shrug before standing back up and holding a hand out to his seated sibling. To his delight, Raph reluctantly reached for it with a sigh.

"Can't believe you're talking me into this," he grumbled as Mikey helped pull him to his feet.

"No one can resist the charm of Michelangelo with a plan that involves totally awesome food," he said as he threw an arm around his older brother's shoulder.

With some hesitation on Raphael's part, they both swung by Murakami's noodle shop before heading to the Mutanimal's new hideout, and while the impromptu meetup was a bit awkward to start, by the end it turned out that there was no need for Mikey to help Raph mangle more of New York City's ductwork. Now nearly midnight, a promise to hang out again had Mikey heading back to the lair with a bright smile on his face, but Raph insisted that the night wasn't quite over yet. And as the two sat next to each other on Raph's bed, ice cream pilfered from the freezer in hand despite the late hour, Mikey decided that the next time his older brother stormed off, he wouldn't have to ride it out alone. ____________________________________

A/N: My dad would be proud with how much I learned about alternators by writing this. So many scenes that were basically just me venting about the fact that all of Raph's friendships in this show were done so dirty had to be cut due to, yanno, being solely there for venting purposes and not actually adding anything. :P Whoops.

As always, critics and grammar police appreciated!

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #michelangelo #raphael #donatello #casey jones #slash #the mighty mutanimals #my fanfiction #can't lie #writing this seriously made me consider adding a big ol' fix-it chapter fic about raph casey and slash to my already enormous pile of ideas #i just love the IDEA of slash SO MUCH MORE than the actuality of him post his intro episode #slash and destroy is still such an amazing episode gosh

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piceuscelus · 1 year ago

Note

t4t ciri/cerys, cerys is so determined to seduce ciri she doesn't realize how easy it's going to be (idk if you wanted, like, trans SPECIFIC prompts vs just prompts with trans characters? i do very much envision this as trans girls having slutty crushes on each other and being endearingly awkward about it bc maybe people haven't responded well to them in the past, or maybe ciri doesn't realize cerys is also trans? but also just a simple cute blushy t4t fuckfest would be great lol)

(i will send another, trashier prompt next)

hi i know this prompt was Forever Ago but i did NOT forget it

it just fuckin Refused To Go

but it went! finally! and now it's here! and it's even below my tumblr post limit! (it admittedly might not be exactly to the prompt. but)

it'll be going up on ao3 like, immediately after this ask posts in case anyone is terribly concerned about content tags but this one is Extremely Tame and soft

trans woman Ciri / nonbinary Cerys

It’s a pity, Ciri thinks, that she doesn’t make it back to the Isles very often. Of course, she knows perfectly well why she doesn’t – she rules both Nilfgaard and Cintra, and thus most of the southern half of the Continent. She’s entirely too busy to be galavanting off to Skellige without a purpose – her court will barely allow her the occasional Witchering break, and they only do that begrudgingly because if they don’t, she tends to start threatening to skewer diplomats. The likelihood of that stuffy lot agreeing to let her vacation to Skellige for no good reason is slim to none.

There is the upside, though, that she never has to bother with a week-long boat trip unless she has a hankering for being sea sick.

When she lands on solid ground, it’s bright and sunny and frigidly cold. She takes a deep breath and just revels in it for a moment, even as she starts to shiver, taking in the familiar smells and sounds.

Of course, as soon as someone notices her standing there in the courtyard, a commotion starts up.

She sighs, but tolerates the sudden influx of guards and their squires rushing over to investigate, and then, once they’ve assured themselves that she’s a known guest, if an unexpected one, the addition of half a dozen maids that arrive to fuss. All of them are bowing so low they may as well be kneeling – it would be faster and require less stumbling, at least – and stammering as they try to address her with an amount and type of formality that’s always been a bit foreign on the Isles.

When she can finally get a word in edgewise, she cuts straight to the chase. “Yes, thank you, where is Queen Cerys?”

One of the guards answers. “Her Majesty is with the jarls, out on the cliffs.”

Ciri raises an eyebrow. “What for?”

“It’s a tradition, Your Imperial Majesty,” another guard says, the capital letters and his unfamiliarity with her title obvious in the stilted, slow way he speaks. “A…rebirth, of sorts, for the new year. All of the jarls, the druids, and the Queen jump into the sea to be cleansed.”

“And several others, for the fun of it,” one of the squires adds, sounding almost bemused, as if he doesn’t quite understand how the dive could be fun.

Ciri isn’t entirely sure fun is the right word, really – she’d probably use thrill instead. She remembers, now, years and years ago, watching Eist do something similar – but it was in the summer, when the cold waters were a fairly refreshing shock, and not the tail end of fall, when falling into the sea could easily become a death sentence if you were stupid or sickly. She’d been allowed to jump then, too, though only into the shallows and not off the cliffside with the rest (for the sake of her grandmother’s blood pressure).

Then again, the line between the concept of fun and thrill is a thin one, and, well – she’d come to the Isles for fun, hadn’t she?

“Which shore are they on?”

– – – – –

When Ciri finally makes it up the cliff where the local nobility are making like ritual-minded lemmings, Cerys is just beginning to strip down to her underthings in preparation for her own jump. It appears she’s the last of the leaders to go, most of the jarls already soaked and shivering on the beach below.

She keeps her more lurid thoughts to herself, watching Cerys shuck her dress, and makes a split second decision to distract her mind from the gutter. “Aye! Time for a late arrival?”

The spears immediately pointed in her direction aren’t a shock, so she mostly ignores them, just stopping where she’s at and waiting.

“Don’t you lot recognize the damn Empress?” Cerys asks, laughing as everyone sort of sheepishly shuffles their weapons back to where they belong. She looks at Ciri to continue, “And don’t you know better than to barge into a group of Islanders unannounced?”

Ciri laughs, too, but doesn’t bother answering – it’s a rhetorical question, and they all know that really, she’s allowed to barge in wherever she’d like. She gestures to the edge of the cliff. “Well, may I join?”

Cerys also gestures to the cliff, but with an over-exaggerated, fake curtsy. “You may!”

Immediately, there are a handful of damp squires appearing at her side, hands held out, so she strips off and hands her clothes over. She only strips down to the same as Cerys, the single layer of underthings – she doesn’t particularly understand the point of wearing anything for this, but she’s also aware that her penchant for nudity is unusual, and is willing to follow the Queen’s lead.

“Together, then?” Cerys asks, when Ciri steps up to her side. They’re both shivering lightly in the icy breeze wafting in from the waves. “Or would you like the honor alone?”

“You’re the Queen of the Skellige Isles, Cerys, it ought to be your honor,” Ciri says, half-teasing, and Cerys’ eyes sparkle.

“And you’re the Witcher Cirilla of Vengerberg, Lioness of Cintra and Empress of Nilfgaard, The Swallow Bearing the Sun in Her Wings,” Cerys retorts, “and you outrank me by a league. So?”

Ciri rolls her eyes as theatrically as possible at the full title, though she’s privately pleased that Cerys used both of Vengerberg and the informal order of it. “Together, then.”

She offers her hand as she takes a step closer to the cliff’s edge, toes already freezing in the sparse, damp grass.

Cerys steps up alongside her and threads their fingers together. “Of course, Your Imperial Majesty,” she says, with a little half-curtsy, still a fake one since she’s not wearing a damn dress, and a smirk that belies the formal tone.

Ciri immediately drops Cerys’ hand just to shove her off the cliff and jump right after her.

– – – – –

By the time they’ve swum back to shore, anyone else who wanted to jump has already done it, and it turns into a race back to the castle before fingers and toes go from numb to dead. All the same, they’re laughing as they finally stumble into the marginally-warmer stone halls, the mood easy and light, chatter and laughter echoing off of the high ceilings.

It’s only when they’ve made their way to Cerys’ rooms, already prepped and ready with a large, steaming bath, that Ciri realizes she has absolutely no idea where she’s meant to be staying. Or if she’s even welcome.

Her rank and power do a lot to smooth the way wherever she’d like to go – and her sword and medallion often do what the crown cannot – but she prefers not to use any of them like a cudgel.

Cerys, though, seems to have the same realization a beat after her.

“I can send someone to make up a room,” she says, “but in the meantime, we could share a bath.” There’s a hint of lechery in the quirk of her lips. “Only if you don’t think that would be too…improper, of course.”

Ciri nearly asks where in the world Cerys picked up the idea that she’s ever given a single fuck about proper, but decides that playing coy is much more fun. “It might be,” she says, slowly. “But….”

She rubs her arms and shivers. It’s a little exaggerated, but certainly not entirely an act – she is cold, clothes still wet and skin a little slimy where the seawater lingers.

“It’s cold, and it’ll take too long to make up another bath for you,” Cerys says, and this time her tone is at least half-serious. “You’ll catch your death, Your Imperial Highness – and I cannot, nor do I want to, imagine the horrors your court would bring down upon me if I allowed it to happen. I’m just a lowly Islander queen, after all.”

The snark is back, with the last part, and Ciri can’t help how she snorts.

“Alright, alright.” She prods Cerys into the room and follows along, closing the door behind them. She catches sight of a door across the room shutting with utmost gentleness, likely a servant who had realized that they were not needed and decided to at least be discreet about their eavesdropping. “I’m sure my honor will survive the blow.”

“Mine certainly won’t, but it’s not as if I had much to begin with,” Cerys retorts, and Ciri chokes on another laugh.

“You know what they say about Skelligers,” she says, trailing off with a wink, and Cerys just raises an eyebrow.

“What, that we’re one good blow away from a fight?”

Ciri giggles. “No, that you’re one good blow to anyone’s honor.”

It clearly takes a second to click, Cerys squinting at her for slightly longer than a typical beat, but Ciri sees the moment it finally dawns, the queen’s eyes going wide before she starts cackling.

“That was awful, Cirilla,” she scolds, but she’s grinning wide and there’s no heat to her voice, just poorly-concealed laughter.

Before Ciri can come up with another witty reply – either about her wonderful wordplay, or the use of her full first name – Cerys is huffing and shaking her head, starting to tug at her own layers.

She tosses them directly onto the floor with no care as she wriggles free of them, and Ciri starts to do the same, struggling out of the top dress and progressively wetter layers beneath, until she’s reached the last of them, her underthings still soaked and getting slimier by the second.

She hesitates. As unpleasant as the soggy cotton is, and as thrilled as she usually is to be free of clothes, it’s…. Well. If this were just a bath with a friend, or even just fellow nobility, it wouldn’t be anything to drop her clothes. She’s done it before in springs and bathhouses.

But this isn’t just another sovereign, or even just a friend. This is…well, it’s Cerys, someone that Ciri can admit (at least in her own head, privately, to herself) she’s been carrying a torch about for…as long as they’ve known one another, probably.

(Definitely.)

Cerys is speaking again, though, as she’s peeling out of the layer just above her underthings, struggling with the fabric as its soaked so much water up from the layer below, and Ciri is distracted from her not-quite spiral about her infatuation.

“It’s rude to stare, you know,” Cerys says, and Ciri’s stomach drops to the floor in the split second it takes for her to notice the wry quirk to Cerys’ mouth. Before she can relocate her own words, Cerys continues, though this time it’s quieter, more of a mutter. “...then again, s’pose I have no room to speak on that.”

Ciri doesn’t think she was meant to hear that last bit. She’s aware that she should probably pretend she didn’t.

But she’s burningly curious as to what, exactly, that means, so she quirks a brow when Cerys’ eyes next catch hers. “Oh?”

Harmless, directionless flirting is one thing – something they’ve been doing for the same amount of time Ciri’s carried the torch – but that? That sounded like an admission.

Cerys makes a small, short sound, something of a cross between a squeak and a snort, coloring a little. “If I may be crass, Your Imperial Majesty,” she winks, and Ciri feels herself flushing, because this time the title sounds more genuine, even if it’s in a crude way. “You have a truly spectacular pair of tits.”

Ciri snickers, and before she even thinks it all the way through, she’s quipping, “Thank you, Yennefer helped me pick them out when I got tired of being shaped wrong.”

What she’s said sinks in just a second too late, and she sucks in a breath, biting her cheek against trying to over explain. It’s possible Cerys will misunderstand that – think it has to do with self-esteem, and not anything to do with the confused whispers about wasn’t the heir to Cintra a boy? – but if she opens her mouth again, she could give the truth away.

But Cerys’ mouth drops open to mirror how tightly Ciri’s gritting her teeth, and she stutters, “You were – ” before she’s squeaking and putting a hand over her mouth.

They stand frozen, just staring at one another, for a long moment.

Ciri tries to find her voice, tries to come up with something to say – to brush it off, or to admit the truth, or maybe a secret third option she hasn’t come up with yet. She doesn’t know, but the silence is stretching out longer and longer, and she feels like there are ants crawling along the back of her neck.

Despite all her frantic thoughts, Cerys beats her to breaking it. “Something we almost have in common, then,” she says, and finishes peeling out of her underclothes, revealing her own chest – perfectly flat, nothing but solid muscle and pink-white scars cupping the shape of her pectorals. “Mousesack helped me pick mine when I got tired of the same.”

And the scars are – obvious, really, Cerys is hardly the first person Ciri has met with them, but it takes until she speaks for it to really click, and then – and then she’s laughing, caught somewhere between fierce relief and flustered sheepishness.

“Good to know we have that in common?” she asks, voice shifting down a little, like it hasn’t since she was thirteen and Yennefer started teaching her how to pitch it higher, and she hopes that Cerys understands her meaning – that she means a bit more than just picking out surgi-magical modifications to their chests.

She expects that Cerys will laugh, probably – that she’ll poke fun at Ciri, almost certainly. What she doesn’t expect, in any way, is for Cerys to step into her space, reaching out and cupping one roughened palm around the nape of her neck to yank her even closer.

“I’m pretty sure it’s more than that,” she murmurs, and then her mouth is ghosting over Ciri’s, the distant suggestion of a kiss.

Like hell is she going to turn that down.

They’re still shivering finely from the cold and wet, Ciri’s underthings uncomfortably slimy between them – really, it’s atrocious how seawater just never actually seems to dry, just turns to slime and then…crusts – but none of that really matters, not in the face of the kiss.

The kiss, which is going quickly from chaste and almost innocent to something decidedly more hungry, Cerys’ fingers finding their way into Ciri’s hair, her other hand creeping around her waist and then up to cup her ribs. Ciri, for her part, gets her hands on Cerys’ waist first, and then shifts them to the lower curve of her spine and the place between her shoulderblades as they press closer.

When they finally break apart they’re both panting, and the way Cerys’ fingers are curling around the curve of Ciri’s skull, a rough, callused thumb rasping back and forth just under her ear, has Ciri shivering for reasons entirely unrelated to the damp.

She doesn’t know if Cerys misreads the trembling, or if maybe she understands and simply makes an unrelated decision, but without a word she’s taking a step back, pulling Ciri gently toward the bath. The way she tugs at Ciri’s remaining clothes, though, is significantly less gentle.

It’s a little hard to get naked, considering that they both refuse to step away from another with equal fervor, but between four hands they manage. They also succeed – somehow – in clambering their way into the bath without injury.

Through another kiss, they end up settled on a very convenient seat along the edge of the ridiculously large tub, Ciri on the ledge and Cerys perched in her lap. The position leaves their bottom halves in quite close contact for the first time, and before Ciri can even start to – explain? apologize? she’s not entirely sure – Cerys is humming, a distinctly pleased little sound, and settling her weight more firmly in Ciri’s lap.

“Hello there,” she says, and rolls her hips, pinning Ciri’s half-hard cock properly between them. “I’d ask about pockets, but all things considered, I think I can just assume you’re happy to see me.”

Ciri wants to say something in response to that – even if it’s just to cry hypocrisy about Cerys’ early rebuke of Ciri’s earlier pun – but all that comes out is a thin, reedy little moan.

It makes Cerys laugh, but it’s a breathy sound, cut off when she presses their mouths together again, so Ciri isn’t too terribly offended.

She’s usually more put together, she swears she is, but, well. This torch has been burning for a little less than most of her life, for fucks’ sake.

While they kiss, Cerys starts to move, rocking her hips to grind them together, and both of them end up making broken, breathless little noises into each others’ mouths. The water intensifies the friction, washing away the slick either of them could produce well before it’s of any use, but it also makes the movements easier, smoothing out the jerkiness where both of them are startling to tremble.

Gods above, Ciri should not be this close because of a handful of kisses and a pretty queen in her lap. She’s not sure if it’s because she’s been pining for a ridiculous length of time, or that she’s not had much time for anyone except her own hand lately, or maybe that Cerys really is just that incredible. Whatever it is, she absolutely refuses to embarrass herself so thoroughly, at least this first time.

It takes entirely too much willpower, but she gets her hands on Cerys’ hips, stopping the rocking movement and splashing water over the edges of the tub with the sudden interruption to the water’s motion. Cerys makes a little sound, whiny and petulant, and Ciri is halfway through a choked sort of coo at how cute that was when Cerys’ eyes snap open.

“Sorry, was that – ”

Ciri feels a little bad when pressing her fingers over Cerys’ lips apparently gets some bathwater in her mouth, but she doesn’t need an apology and doesn’t want to entertain it. “I’m fine,” she assures. “I just – have a better idea.”

At that, the scrunched combination of shock and concern on Cerys’ face smooths out, replaced instead by obvious curiosity. Her eyes are bright and her lips are a little swollen from their kisses, and Ciri has to resist the urge to lean forward and nip at them, at least for now. Instead, she starts prodding Cerys off of her lap, and giggles when Cerys’ expression once again shifts in a heartbeat, turning to a small pout even as she follows the silent direction and finds her own feet.

Ciri can’t resist that, not entirely, so she leans forward to kiss the corner of the pout as she also stands from the bench. Cerys turns her head and turns it into a real kiss, because of course she does, and Ciri is weak, so she allows it for a long moment.

“C’mon,” she finally says, when they have to pull apart for air, and before Cerys can complain – or catch her in another kiss – she slips behind her and gently nudges her forward again.

She tries to turn at first, clearly trying to sit, but Ciri gets her arms around her waist and keeps her facing forward. She nuzzles against Cerys’ ear and whispers, “Like this,” before guiding her forward again, until her knees are pressed to the bench.

From there, she drags her hands back down to Cerys’ hips, then her thighs, coaxing her to keep going forward, until she’s kneeling on the ledge. That’s when she seems to get the idea, suddenly tugging out of Ciri’s grip to scoot forward and bend at the waist, bracing her palms against the thick edge of the tub.

“Yeah, perfect,” Ciri murmurs, and leans forward to press a kiss between Cerys’ shoulderblades, fingers finding the stretched smoothness of the scars on her chest. She kisses down Cerys’ spine, hands following the same path but down her front, and when she’s reached where her back starts to curve into ass, Ciri shifts her weight and drops into a low crouch.

She uses her hands, curled around the very tops of Cerys’ thighs, to shift her hips up a little more, just enough to lift her cunt properly above the water.

Cerys shivers and whines, soft and breathless, and Ciri presses a kiss to where the waterline is lapping at the back of her thigh.

“This okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cerys is almost panting. When Ciri looks up – she has to lean a little to the side, to see more than the curve of Cerys’ ass and spine – Cerys is turned to look over her shoulder, eyes gone wide and dark.

She keeps their gazes locked as she slowly trails her fingers up and to the side, along the cut of Cerys’ hipbone, and then in and down, until she’s petting over the soft curls just above her slit. Cerys’ lashes flutter, mouth dropping open for the space of a panting breath before she’s sucking her bottom lip into her mouth to bite at it.

She whines when Ciri doesn’t keep going, squirming a little, hips rolling forward into Ciri’s hand. Ciri chuckles and turns her head to kiss along the curve of her ass and back down to the back of her thigh.

“Can I?” she asks, dragging her fingers further down, almost to Cerys’ clit but not quite there yet. Already, she can feel the heat – the difference between the water and Cerys’ body, the apex of her thighs, much warmer where she’s all swollen.

Cerys whines and bucks her hips, stammering out a, “P-please.”

Ciri lets the movement do what it intended to do, since she asked so nicely, fingers slipping over Cerys’ clit. The friction of it is a little rough with nothing but water between them yet, but Cerys just whines and bucks again, so Ciri keeps going, until Cerys has made a proper mess of herself and the touch is slick and wet.

“Good,” Ciri murmurs, mostly thoughtless, and traces an intentional, firm circle around Cerys’ clit at the same time she mouths along the edge of her outer labia, tongue flickering barely over where she’s wet and fluttering. Those touches earn her another whine, more desperate this time, as Cerys leans harder against her braced arms just so she can raise her hips and press back into the tease of Ciri’s mouth. “Yeah, fuck, so good.”

“C-Ciri, please,” Cerys breathes.

Ciri curses and leans further forward, flattening her tongue over the slick mess built between Cerys’ thighs. The sound Cerys makes in response could be reasonably called a shout, if it weren’t so pitchy and breathless, and Ciri grins but doesn’t bother pulling back. When she teases her tongue at Cerys’ entrance, she gets another almost-shout, and when she presses in, the sound turns into a low, warbling little mewl.

Her cock throbs where it’s bobbing in the water, and she imagines the two of them are probably going to sully it enough that a brand new bath is needed, but that’s the only real thought she spares for it.

“Fuck, fuck, please,” Cerys finally gasps, after Ciri has spent a few minutes pressing her tongue just inside the clutch of her entrance and then pulling back out to trace her folds before doing it again.

She hasn’t even really been meaning to tease – she’s just…taken with the taste of Cerys, with feeling her twitch and flutter. Entirely too taken to be paying much attention to the passage of seconds – or to keep moving her fingers, she realizes. The pleas, though, bring her right back, and she hums into Cerys’ heat before she’s pressing closer, rubbing at Cerys’ clit again as she presses her tongue as deep as she can get it.

Cerys squeals, hips jerking, and Ciri reconsiders her original intention to pull back and say something filthy. Instead, she stays right where she is, shifting in her crouch just to relieve some pressure on her ankles, and tongue-fucks Cerys until the she’s starting to shake and babble.

“Fuck, fuck, you – ah, ah – oh gods, Ciri – ”

Whenever Cerys makes a new noise or starts shaking harder, Ciri follows that as if it were explicit directions, until Cerys is no longer babbling, she’s just making scattered noise, entirely breathless. She’s so hard she could use her cock as a hammer, but all she can really focus on is how sweet Cerys’ cunt is, all of the pretty noises and trembling that she’s working out of her with just her hand and tongue. It’s – heady, and hotter than it has any right to be, and so much more than she’d ever even dared dream about, at least consciously.

Cerys can make jokes-that-aren’t about how far Ciri outranks her all she wants, but in Ciri’s opinion, Cerys is so far out of her league that it balances them right back out. She’s fairly certain Cerys would take offense to that, though, and not at all for her own sake, so Ciri fully plans to keep that as a thought to herself.

She’s almost worried, for a split second, when Cerys’ suddenly goes tripwire-taut, but then her mouth is suddenly flooded with slick and she understands. She groans, but doesn’t let up on her ministrations, working Cerys through the peak of the pleasure and out to quivering on the other side.

“Ciri, Ciri, fuck, oh my gods – ”

She doesn’t stop until Cerys fumbles a hand back and catches at her hair. The feeble tapping at her head is, by itself, ineffectual in making her stop, but she doesn’t want this to tip into the bad kind of overstimulation, so she follows the silent direction and pulls back.

She intends to ask something cheeky about if that was good, but before she can manage more than just the breath in, Cerys is leaning up and turning, the hand still sort of limp against Ciri’s head finding its way into her hair just to tug slightly.

“Please get up here and fuck me,” Cerys pants, tugging at her hair again, and Ciri certainly isn’t going to say no.

It’s not the first time she’s experienced the sensation of her dick overtaking her brain, but she thinks it might be the most intense instance of it.

“Yeah, okay,” she murmurs, and lets go of Cerys just long enough to brace on the side of the tub and the ledge so she can lever herself back to standing. She ignores the tingling in her legs – it’s not bad enough she’ll topple, so it doesn’t matter – and instead bends to press along Cerys’ back, one arm slipping around her waist while the other hand goes to her throat. She nudges at Cerys’ jaw with her fingers until she turns properly and Ciri can kiss her again.

She has to take her hand away to reach down and guide her cock, but Cerys barely seems to notice, at least until Ciri is nudging up against her entrance.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” she gasps, head dropping back down as her knuckles go white around the edge of the tub. “Please.”

“I’ve got you,” Ciri murmurs, lips trailing along the curve of Cerys’ throat in absence of her mouth.

It only takes some more minute shifting, using her other hand to steady Cerys’ hips as she guides herself with the one around her cock, and she’s slipping in. They both make high, shocky little sounds, and Ciri bites at Cerys’ shoulder as her hips jerk.

She wants to go slow, to check in, but Cerys is letting go of the edge of the tub to throw her arm back, fingernails digging into Ciri’s hip when her hand finally finds it, and she doesn’t have much choice with the way she’s yanked, unless she wants to send the both of them tumbling over the edge of the tub and onto the floor.

“Fuck me,” Cerys repeats, and Ciri makes a wordless sound of agreement before she’s doing just that.

#Anonymous #celus writes #dead dove #dead dove do not eat #celus trans characters cw

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risu5waffles · 2 years ago

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Ten-10 for Pen-pen

Got another 10 in the pike for y'all. Which, to think of it. Why pike? Who puts anything in a fish? Aside from fish food? i guess?

youtube

Talked about this a few weeks back. Short. Sweet. Well, mostly sweet? It's mostly just short, to be honest.

youtube

There are some really nice set pieces in this one, yeah. Loved all the giant zombie-ghosty things. The castle, itself, is a really nicely done environment, tho' i feel like the cameras are really a touch to herky-jerky at times. Gameplay was fun enough, even if a few bits don't totally gel; that bouncy floor bit really didn't quite work for me. The major fly in the ointment is the "This Is Halloween" or whatever it's called playing on loop the whole damned level. Even if it were a good song (and this version of it definitely is not), it just can't sustain 7minutes about of gameplay.

youtube

It's funny how you'll never hear of a creator, and then you blink and suddenly they're everywhere? And they're actually really good? This one is not a perfect recreation of Skulldozer, but it approximates it quite well, while putting its own spin on the proceedings. i am always a little bit wary of the Temple as a level kit, 'cause it feels a little bit of a kind of way towards Indian (subcontinent India, that is, not Native American) folx? i don't know. It's not my place to get angry about it, but it does tend to ping my "is this going to be gross?" radar. Anyways, Joja28 has a tonne of levels, and they all seem to have come out fairly recently, and they're all pretty good. i hope i didn't make that sound suspicious, because it isn't really. Sometimes folx just get on a whole tear in create mode.

youtube

This is another one, like the Snake Temple level above, that got picked up for a Team Pick right after i recorded, but before the episode went live. Hate that. This one's really fun to look at, but not quite as much to engage wiv. If you get out of the score bubble sections, it's really difficult to get back up, so you're just stuck on the boat forever watching the level go by. But the level does, at least, look nice, and it has a lot of character; it just feels really long when you can't engage wiv it.

youtube

The first of Chronos' Neon Dimension series, and already just strong right out the gate. Can we step back and appreciate this was made 12 dang years ago? Chronos was just a wee babby. And he just throws this together, like, oh, yeah, i just had this in my back pocket. i remember playing this the first time and thinking how cool it was that the level just kind of put itself together as i went. That was my benchmark for "is this level really special" for a couple of years when i first started reviewing, and it came from seeing it the first time done well here.

youtube

i think this might be my favourite "HARD" levels, tho it doesn't really bill itself the way those ones do (seriously, a lot of them just have hard in all-caps right in the title). This one's really tricky, and some bits take a fair amount of finesse, but it never feels unfair, and it never feels like it's rushing you along before you're ready. Add to that an excellent presentation, an extremely chill vibe, and a great choice of music, and you've got a real masterclass in level design. i tell you, no lie, i was so proud to beat this one way back in the day.

youtube

Yooo... what is this even? It is so fluid! The animation, it's like, i know it was done in LBP3, but i don't think i've ever seen anyone pull off something that looked quite as good or as well-done as this. The creator said on the title page they might or might not have gotten around to finishing it, but they were publishing it anyways just to have what was completed out there. i'm not familiar wiv the song, so i can't say yay or nay to that; but what we did get is honestly really special.

youtube

We're not also posting this to the subreddit, so i can say more honestly how i feel about this level. Fuck this level. Fuck it right in the ear wiv a big metal dick. Gods. This was actually anti-fun. It actually went out and removed fun from the world. It probably shit on a baby's ice cream while i was playing it, powered by my deep frustration and loathing.

youtube

There are some cute touches in this one, even if i don't feel like it really needed to be as long as it was. i really liked the skiiers and their bits of animation. The setting had a bit more pop in colour than we usually see in snow-themed levels, and i appreciated that as well. But, to be honest, there isn't really too much that sticks out in my mind either? i know that's kind of shitty, but there you go.

youtube

Tell you what, i was not expecting this level to be like this. Like, i've played LaDIDa72's levels before, and they can be tricky, but they always felt tricky in spite of themselves, you know? Like, a little playtesting and polish and they'd work better? i guess i didn't realize that street goes both ways. You can take wonky bits and polish them to be harder. This has got some of the fiddliest, most bullshite platforming i've played in a while and i loved it? It never felt unfair, just always just barely not do-able, and that makes all the difference. Plus, there's little that's dependent on things outside your control, and that, i feel like, is super important to keep players engaged wiv this kind of level. Make someone feel like the fuck up is on their end, and they will beat their heads into the wall trying to get past it, but let them think for a moment that the fuck up was on you as a creator, and they will bounce right out. It super helps this level is pretty as fuck. Like it is just super pretty. Which is half the reason i wasn't expecting it to be a hard level. A lot of times those are just dogshit ugly. Fun fact! i can't watch this video on my own YouTube channel thanks to Song 2 being in the level. Thanks a fucking lump Sony Music Japan! You're total fucking peaches!

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

So that's another ten off the top then. Your usual mix of good, bad, and ugly, but alright enough for all that. It feels like it's becoming my day off refrain, but i got stuff done today, but not what i needed, and not what i wanted. Well, a few things i needed, but not, like, needed-needed, you know?

#LittleBigPlanet #Little Big Planet #LBP #LBP2 #LBP3 #Youtube

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periodicreviews · 1 year ago

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50 Cent: The Final Lap Tour

"It might be the final lap, but 50 is forever."

These were the final words from 50 Cent during his appearance in Tampa for "The Final Lap" tour.

In the world of concerts, final doesn't mean final. But it hints that maybe, possibly, it could be. And if it is, and you miss it, you'd miss it forever.

Whether or not this is his final tour, this show made me a believer in 50 Cent again (or whoever behind the scenes orchestrated this).

In my 5th post on this tumblr, I complained about a single event which caused me to lose all faith in 50 Cent. I unfollowed him on Twitter long ago and haven't sought out any information on him. Petty? Maybe. But I was still subscribed to his channel on youtube. When I saw the ad for his tour, I thought despite that tragic event 8 years ago that I should pay money again to see him.

Jeremih

After parking and making the 20 minute walk from the lot to the amphitheater, I arrived with just a few songs left in Jeremih's set. I never looked into his music so I wasn't really missing anything. From the time when he ended, if he started at 7, then he only played for 30 minutes. He seemed to perform only segments of his songs before the DJ would scratch the record to a halt. He also had one of his crew perform their own song. It was all ok, nothing bad but barely anyone was standing. The mixing of the sound seemed to be off as well because it was hard to hear his vocals.

Busta Rhymes

When I originally bought my ticket, I assumed that even if 50 Cent did a repeat of his 2015 performance, then at least I'd have the 2nd act, Busta Rhymes. Without knowing anything about his live show or really anything about him as a person, I just assumed that Busta Rhymes would bring his A game based on the level of technique he uses in songs like "Look at me now". I'm using that as an example because that and "Break ya neck" are really the only two Busta Rhymes songs that I know. I've probably heard some others but they didn't really come up in his set. I'm remembering now that I have a copy of "Come on" from Tiesto featuring Busta Rhymes, but that probably doesn't get performed live.

Anyway, Busta Rhymes's set time arrives. His hype man comes out, makes an introduction while an elaborate throne chair slowly turned to reveal Busta Rhymes sitting there in a relaxed position. There was quite a bit of cheering for him just turning around so he sat there and milked it for a bit.

He launched into his first song and it seemed like his voice was a lot deeper than he sounded on these 10-20 year old tracks that I was familiar with. Not sure if it's age, smoking, other health problems, or some combination of it all. After some quick DuckDuckGo searching, it seems he's definitely struggled with his weight, as well as having had surgery on his throat.

But the vocals don't really matter when you promptly stop the song after either verse 1 or chorus 1. Guy next to me said he had seen him recently and at that previous show it seemed like he was out of breath most of the time but since then he had lost some weight. It didn't seem like he was necessarily out of breath after 1 minute, but maybe this style of show was in recognition of that.

But even if he was only doing 1 verse+1 chorus, I wouldn't be as disappointed of what he was actually doing. Half of the time, he was making the audience sing the verse or chorus so the whole show had more of a sing along feel. Singing along with the show is something people do everywhere and a lot of bands at some point will actively encourage it for a portion of a song. But this was my first time at a show where I felt like I was getting so little from the original artist and too much from the audience.

The only song he sang a full verse+chorus on was his new single, though that's to be somewhat expected as most people in the crowd aren't going to know the words to it. The other piece he did in full was his verse on "Look at me now". At the time it seemed maybe a little slower than it was on the recording, but it still felt like 85% there which is a feat in itself.

The guy I thought was his hype man, Spliff Star, seemed more like his co-vocalist. Again, being unfamiliar with Busta Rhymes I wasn't sure if this was the usual performance that he gives or particular to this tour. But for me, the split dynamic didn't really work for me and I find hype men generally annoying to begin with.

Near the end of his set, Busta gave a bit of a speech talking about thing he thought were worth celebrating:

1. Waking up today

2. Cause we're blessed

3. 50 Cent

4. Each other

5. Tampa

6. 25 anniversary of one of his album

7. BET lifetime achievement award

8. 50 years of hip hop

I appreciated him taking the time to talk a bit about himself as a person, which made up a bit for the short performance style. But then the hour was up.

I was left wondering whether this would be the same thing that 50 Cent was going to do. Was all of this just a cash grab? Put "the final lap" branding on to entice people, come out and do 1 min of each song, not bother releasing any new songs, and call it a day.

In the intermission, it seemed like an excessively long time that we waited for. There were some technicians that gathered on stage, then looked at the massive LED screen setup and the lights. From the audience it was hard to see exactly what the problem was. And in the absence of seeing anything big, I was left wondering whether we really needed to delay the show for it. While the screens and the lights certainly elevate the performance, I'd have been content with just hearing 50 Cent perform.

50 Cent

The show finally started around 9:20. One of the 5 LED screens lit up with the image of 50 in silhouette as the crowd went wild. There was then a Nightcrawler teleportation effect where 50 disappeared in a wisp of smoke only to reappear on another one of the screens. After he teleported between all 5, a clear plastic enclosure on stage began to fill with smoke, and after filling completed, 50 popped out of it as he began the first song.

I didn't recognize the first song, but when he next went into "What Up Gangsta", I was sold by the end of the song.

Similar to Busta Rhymes, 50 Cent was not there 100% vocally. The guy next to me had also mentioned that it seemed like sound quality at the Mid Flordia Credit Union Amphitheatre had been in a downward spiral for awhile now. So maybe that was also at work here. He certainly wasn't yelling all the lyrics, which I had seen him do in previous concert videos. Looking at a recent interview, it definitely sounds like his voice wasn't what it used to be so I'm assuming that it's some combination of age and maybe not taking care of it during those earlier shows when he was shouting for the whole set.

He played a lot from "Get Rich or Die Tryin" which I appreciated, but also weaved in some of his newer stuff. But the big surprise aside from him actually performing was the reveal of the live band that was hidden inside of the large LED screens. The screens split apart in the middle to reveal them playing the drums, keyboard, bass, and guitar.

Earlier in the night, I asked the guy next to me whether he looked up setlists before going to see shows and he said he didn't. I've done it occasionally when I've needed to leave a show early but I generally like being surprised about what's going to come next. The live band surprise that would've been ruined with the setlist saying "guitar solo".

The stage production besides the LED screens and backing band was top notch. I can see now why the technicians might have wanted to delay the show a bit in order to troubleshoot an issue. There were quite a lot of different elements from fire and fireworks, to the smoke at the beginning, and 2 or 3 different sets of confetti. I'm not sure if they were separate elements or just flame jets with some kind of motor but there were typical vertical flames as well diagonal flames.

Another element to the production was the dance team. Maybe rap videos still feature lots of scantily clad women, I feel like I haven't watched a music video like this in a while but it also felt like a bit of a throwback to that era where I just remember so much controversy about rap music and videos being public enemy number one. The dancers served a dual role in keeping the energy going on stage in between the many outfit changes that 50 went through.

The only downside to the production was that a live band meant that the songs were not exactly the same as on the album. In general, this wasn't a problem except for "In Da Club". The steel drum sample was not the same and I just could not get over it. I'm not sure if they just didn't have access to it or if it was a conscious choice to do new arrangements of all the tracks.

There was only 1 minor hiccup during the show and that was when Jeremih was supposed to play a song on piano. They wheeled out a grand piano and when he sat down to play it, it was immediately clear that it wasn't making any sound. Without missing a beat, they cued up the backing track and he proceeded to skip that segment entirely. It's clear they spared no expense on not just the physical production but the team as well for them to be able to recover so quickly from that.

During the encore, 50 started to do shorter versions of some of his songs like Wanksta and Poor Lil' Rich. At this point, this was more than fine with me since we had already gotten so much.

The show ended without 50 saying much of anything. He kept the music and show moving and any long pause would've meant having to cut some of the songs. If this really is the last time he performs live, I would've liked a little more from him in terms of thanking the fans for coming out. Though when given the option between long bits of talking and focusing on the music, I’d take the latter most days.

In retrospect, my process for buying a ticket really didn’t make sense. If I really had no confidence in 50, I might have waited until after he had performed at least one show, then looked up a setlist and a review to see if it was real or not. But I guess I had some hope still since it was an arena show as opposed to something at a nightclub.

Overall, for the 39 dollars I paid for a seat (I could have sat on the lawn for 20), the value was incredible. I watched an interview he did for Men's Health to lookup how his speaking voice sounds like now. At the end he talks about being frustrated being told "No" when asking for pyrotechnics at his show and saying he'd rather be told what it takes to get it if he wants it. This would seem to indicate that he's the driving force behind the big production on this tour. If that really is the case, then I'll give him credit for putting the pieces in motion. Ultimately it takes a whole crew to put on the show and everyone played their part in making it a successful and memorable night for me.

#50 cent

0 notes

canon-fcdder · 2 years ago

Text

“I realized, I never properly thanked you for saving me back there.” A hand lifts to rub the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “You know, it feels like forever since we’ve kissed. If you’re down?” ( Spike just kiss him. I dunno why he’s dancing around it now :’D but some post!movie SpikeLuigi :’3 )

- �� 「 @forthehonorandtheglory 」 ✩

「 ☆ 」 Things with Spike have always been… complicated. Since they were teenagers, Luigi has never been able to read him. One moment, he’s certain the other wishes he wasn’t so- Luigi. The next, he’s being kissed in a way that makes him feel like maybe that’s not a bad thing. Luigi can STILL remember when Spike called him cute with a vividness that feels somewhat pathetic. Especially since Spike has seemed to forget. Or doesn’t give it as much importance as Luigi did.

But, dismissed or not, it happened. It ALL did. His first kiss, and all the others that came after it. The first time someone other than his brother seemed to want him around. Came to him. Although, Luigi has to admit that Spike sought him out before things turned confusing too. Just as a verbal and sometimes literal punching bag. Even if Mario was often able to jump in and handle the latter. Whether that was luck— Luigi is a lot more familiar with the bad kind though —or by Spike’s design, Luigi could never figure out.

Working for Spike had done nothing to ease the nervous knots that entangled him, the tension that felt like it lived in Luigi’s own mind— did Spike feel it too? did he even care? —battling with those odd moments of familiarity. When he could talk to Spike and feel somewhat comfortable; or at least, feel a burst of boldness that would have been unheard of if it wasn’t for the strange turn their relationship had taken years ago. Moments when he almost forgot the way Spike treated him otherwise. When it all felt like a facade. When Luigi could nearly convince himself of it.

Only to be proven wrong later.

Feeling as if he’s been thrust back in time— albeit into some alternate universe where Spike is too sheepish to yank him into a kiss —Luigi’s relieved grin ( he can’t not be relieved that Spike didn’t get torn apart by turtles ) slips into utter surprise, cheeks flushing with a heat he hasn’t felt in a long time. Even counting the lava and fire that’s been uncomfortably plentiful lately. Swallowing the lump in his throat, hands fidget in front of himself as blue hues dart around to see if anyone else is witnessing this. Mainly his brother, who probably wouldn’t be thrilled about it.

❝ O-Oh, I uh— Heh… Wow. I was- not expecting this today. Of course, I wasn’t expecting anything that happened. ❞ Weakly laughing at his attempt at a joke, sound fades into a grimace as he clears his throat and averts his gaze. Feeling just as awkward as he did when he was a teen, Luigi coughs into a closed fist, peeking up at Spike. Damn, he’ll never get used to how Spike towers over him. Heart racing with an adrenaline that somehow manages to come pretty close to matching the several life-and-death situations he’s been thrown into, he flashes a sheepish smile.

❝ So… How are we doing this? Are we going for the usual, you yank me into it or-? ❞ Hey, unexpected as it may be, being kissed by Spike is still leagues better than nearly getting roasted by a giant monster-turtle. 「 ☆ 」

#mario tw #(( Spike just kiss the lad; you know you want to jdfkdfngdfkgddf ))#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ʟᴜɪɢɪ’ᴅ! ❞ ¦ 「 Luigi IC 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ꜱᴀʏ ‘ʟᴇᴛ’ꜱ-ᴀ ᴡᴀɪᴛ!’; ᴡᴇ ꜱᴀʏ ‘ʟᴇᴛ’ꜱ-ᴀ ɢᴏ!’ ❞ ◌ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ!ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ¦ 「 Luigi 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴡʀᴇᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴄʀᴇᴡ ❞ ¦ 「 Spike 」#forthehonorandtheglory #♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ’ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ; ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ’ᴠᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ❞ ¦ 「 Luigi and Spike 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴇxᴏᴛɪᴄ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ ❞ ¦ 「 Answer 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ; ɪ ᴀᴍ ʟʏɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」

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bonesofapoet · 2 years ago

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111 posts created (12%)

#kas says things - 92 posts

#eddie munson - 48 posts

#silco - 32 posts

#star wars - 30 posts

#stranger things - 28 posts

#andor - 27 posts

#kas writes - 24 posts

#jason todd - 18 posts

#arcane - 16 posts

#fic rec - 15 posts

My Top Posts in 2022:

the shadow’s crown

[aemond targaryen x you] (non targaryen reader)

author’s note: this man is single-handedly ruining my plans of finishing all my wips this month for nano :) language

word count: 643

In a long forgotten tower, two lone figures contemplated a tear in the fabric of their lives.

They lounged on a narrow staircase, dirty and crumbling with age. Dust motes drifted through the air from abandonment. Honey gold streams of sunlight illuminated the floaters through two cloudy window panes above them. It was a challenge to make out what the design in the stained glass used to be, through the grime. Cracks spiderwebbed from a single focal point where something smashed through it long ago; yet this accident is what provided them with the most light.

Silence, heavy with reality painted the air they breathed. It was a discomfort. It was a wakeup call. It was the only moment they could slip away like this, for a while.

A sigh escaped your lips, shaky with the weight of a life forever changed in an instant - though not for the better. You began to wonder if anyone's life changed for the better, anymore. Maybe someone, somewhere, was draped across another set of stairs in another far off place with their lover, like you did now. Only it wasn't the fate of the realm they were contemplating, but something lovely. Something kind. Something worth celebrating.

"Aegon is going to be king."

It felt like a sin, to speak the words aloud.

"Yes."

A pause.

"Your idiot brother -" you cut yourself off, upon feeling Aemond tense - hardly noticeable, had he not been stretched on the stone before you, chest pulled back against your own. His fingers began to toy with your hands clasped around his waist. "He wouldn’t find his own cock if it wasn't attached to his body."

The tension in the stairwell lessened at your jest. It became less frigid, less ominous, when the prince himself gifted you mercy wrapped in a silver bow. Effortless laughter sung through the darkness and brightened the sunlight illuminating the gloom’s restless cage. Though short lived, and quiet as it was - it was a moment you would come to cherish. This moment was now imprinted upon decaying stone, the song of the prince's laughter to live on in this disrepair forever.

"Be that as it may," a trace of lightness remains in his words. You feel idle patterns drawn on your leg, tension slowly easing with Aemond's hushed words. "He will sit the Iron Throne with mother's guidance, and we will all bear witness to the fool emboldened with power from a kingdom he doesn't want."

Bitterness poisons the air once again. Aemond relaxed farther into you, safe from listening little birds here. No one knew about this place. No one knew this is where you came, when life grew heavy with the burdens of living.

Another pause.

Carefully crafted, should have been the words that fell through your lips - except times are desperate now, and you and Aemond had never hid behind the games of court. Not with one another.

"It should be you. The realm would thrive under your rule. You're the one guiding your family through the dark with the Queen."

Aemond hums. The drawing on your leg ceases, replaced by a palm sliding up your thigh to give a gentle squeeze.

"Desire for a crown has plagued your mind, has it?"

It's unexpected, the laugh abruptly rolling off your tongue. It's a sweet sound, your laughter. Familiar. Warm. Aemond allows himself an easy smile in the dark.

"Absolutely not. You know I have no lust for the weight the Queen carries. Besides -" your hand rests upon Aemond's, his thumb absently stroking your thigh. "I enjoy our life together with little more than what is expected of us."

Lips brush his cheek. Aemond leans into your touch, head tipping back with the intent to kiss you properly, before duty beckons him back from this moment held out of time.

It's gentle, when his lips meet yours. Hands intertwined wherever they lay, reassurance gliding silently from skin to skin. A moment belonging to you and Prince Aemond alone; a balm over old wounds that may reopen anew.

215 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

through the thorns

[ aemond targaryen x you ] (non targaryen reader)

authors note: this was not supposed to be so long but I am simply at the mercy of my whims and impulses and the thirst that trails behind them!! no warnings, really

word count:1901

Life was simple, on an evening like this.

The sky above King's Landing was descending into chaos right before your eyes. Deep reds kissed royal blues on the canvas above the Keep, inspiring the plum hues to swirl with the wispy silver clouds. They hid the first few stars from the wandering eyes in the city below.

It was beautiful, the way the air was tainted pale pink around you. The way it complimented the royal gardens with blooming flowers stark against the oncoming twilight, and - well. It took your breath away. So much so, in fact, that the book cradled in your hands had been long forgotten in favor of such a sight. No words on a page could ever compare to the act of bearing witness to such wild beauty in the flesh.

A balmy breeze ruffled the pages, your place lost in the whim nature provided so seamlessly. So carefree, was this living thing compared to the life you lived at the mercy of duty - especially here, in the eye of all the storms in Westeros. Your time away had proved to be healing, a freedom of its own accord that you had grown accustomed to adore, and, in times such as this - you simply craved the escape.

And yet, you managed to carve out an enjoyable place for yourself, in this place you had once called home. Though, you supposed, the gardens had always been a haven for you. You made a home of them wherever your travels had taken you, regardless of the size, or the curated flora and fauna they nurtured. Beautiful creations had revealed themselves to you, which is why it wasn't an easy admittance - but over time, you had grown to yearn for your favorite blooms growing in the Red Keep.

The familiarity of paths winding secrets through floral arches and emerald mazes called to you on long nights, beckoning you to the forgotten corners that only you and Prince Aemond found solace in, once upon a time.

Some things never changed, it seemed.

It didn't take him long to find you, tucked away against a dead end path of roses climbing towards the sky. They wove and clung to filigreed trellises as they grew, thorns scraping away the white tint with each gust of wind and gods-touched growth towards the sun. They seemed so bright in the failing light - so much so that they almost seemed to glow against the deep crimson petals clinging to the last dying rays of golden light.

This had been your favorite place, years ago. A corner secluded at the far end of the grounds where visitors were hardly ever spied. You would meet here after dark, long after the castle and its congregation had fallen asleep. The sole guarantee of seclusion, the illusion that the two of you were alone in the world - it was a welcome fantasy, while it lasted. No one could make ripples in your high spirits if they couldn't find you, after all. Not even Aegon and his record of endless taunting could bother either of you here.

Satisfaction burned through him, when he found you in the first place he thought to look. Seeing you here again, it brought a small smile to his lips - smug, though it may be - and he realized that maybe. . .maybe you hadn't grown to be as different as he had feared.

So many memories could be unlocked, just by the twitch of the leaves, and the color of the sky. Emotions, varied and vivid, could weave a cloak of sorrow or joy, despair or hope. Longing, even, could all be unsheathed like a fresh blade anxious for its first bloodshed - if only by the scent of the sea alone, carried on gentle winds.

You were welcome here. The land remembered you, and it was a hard thought to swallow.

"Is it a fool's errand, to guess what you're thinking?"

Aemond's voice was quiet, a pure match to the gentle glory concealing your little hideaway. It startled you, nonetheless. Birdsong and the rustle of petals had been your sole companions long before the sun began its descent. The forgotten book almost slipped out of your hands.

"I didn't mean to startle you," you whirl on flagstone, breath hitching when you're met with Prince Aemond, standing a mere stone's throw away. There was a taste of amusement woven through his tone. "Does forgiveness dwell in that wild heart for your betrothed?"

Laughter, soft and sweet, fell through your lips a moment later. It melted with the calls of passing birdsong, and the tension in the air lessened, if only enough to breathe.

"That depends, doesn't it?" The smile brought with your laughter lingered, as your gaze swept over the prince - properly - for the first time since you traded the ship in Blackwater Bay for a series of rooms in the Targaryen stronghold. "Did you miss me as much as your letters implied?"

Your question was accentuated with a raise of an eyebrow, your calm smile growing into an untamable grin. Every opportunity to tease your stoic prince was always the path worth taking.

He takes a step forward. Hands that had been clasped tightly behind his back had fallen to his sides with the stride. The humor dancing on Aemond's tongue spills through his lips, finally, and you swear he dons the beginning of a smile.

Another step forward. He hums. "Just as I feared. Your time away seems to have dulled the memory of my loyalty - "

Another laugh spills through your lips, this one harmonizing with the birdsong itself. Your head tipped towards the sky, almost void of all color now. Navy blue began to deepen the west, revealing stars scattered above to better see this reunion unfold. They glimmered and twinkled, as if they laughed at the jests Aemond easily gave right back to you.

Your feet took you closer, and now it was he who seemed to glow in the twilight swallowing your sanctuary whole. Silver hair, a beacon, always, to you in the darkness. Bright eye, flashing in what little light remained, always the glaring contrast to the leather covering the other. Always the window to his soul, if not his actions, if not his words.

"- can be done to remedy this injustice, my dearest?"

The last remaining step felt like a world still kept you apart, and you longed to end the distance - had longed to close it almost as soon as your carriage left King's Landing, those long years ago. Letters paled in comparison, always, and yet you and Aemond both knew his loyalty was unwavering and his love was stronger than any shard of Valyrian steel.

Just as he knew yours would never falter, how your adoration could never be undone by a cruel distance, or the slow crawl of time.

"I fear you have grown more handsome since my departure, my prince - I'm afraid I didn't hear a word you just said."

See the full post

215 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

sunset leather + rooftop smiles

[ eddie munson x you ]

author’s note: listen. listen. i would die for this man. he’s literally my fave character ever i just. *clenches fist* want him to be HAPPY and i hope the entire town of hawkins gets whats coming to them for buying into satanic panic :) post season 4 vol 1 so minor spoilers!!

word count: 1480

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you."

Soft hair slipped through your fingertips, combing and twirling through dark curls sprawled along your lap. Stray strands tickled your wrists as you played, and you were, it seemed, lulling Eddie Munson to sleep with your touch. Quite effortlessly too, by the lazy drawl of his voice.

It was a song of devotion on repeat, this little ritual of heart and home.

A smile, daring and true graced your lips as fingers halted mid-tug, eyes slipping down, down, down from the horizon above to meet with his own. Those brown eyes that always stole every breath from your lungs, were already staring up at you from the head draped carefully across your lap.

"Try me, Munson."

It wasn't a challenge, no - Eddie knew one when he heard one. This was different, coming from you. This was the tone you chose when curiosity was in its prime, when your heart was open to anything and everything no matter how wild or intense or off the wall. If he had something to share trapped within doubts, you still wanted to hear it. Wanted him to know you wanted to hear it.

(Usually this was about unhinged campaign theories.)

And yet-

He was different. Sounded different.

You knew it was something else, inspiring the haunted look in his eye, and it wasn't because Chrissy Cunningham died in his home this spring, or that the entire town projected their fears onto him on the grandest scale they knew of.

(Although that played its part, of course.)

Regardless, he returned the warmth of your smile with a pale quirk of his own. He looked away, off over the rooftop, off over the town, off into the summer sky, painting the horizon with the most brilliant streaks of oranges and pinks and deep violet clouds. His hands drifted to your wrists, gently detangling fingers from strands. Held them in his own, against his chest.

The cold metal of his rings sends a chill down your spine. You try not to smile brighter at his softness, his kindness, because you know this may not be the time.

"I went into hiding, obviously."

His expression hardens just a little, soft edges becoming a little more sharp, a little more jaded. It was subtle enough to be unnoticeable, but you had known Eddie long enough to learn his tells.

Whatever happened - well. It still bothered him more than he let on.

"If this is another apology about leaving me alone to threaten Jason Carver off my doorstep with a desk lamp -"

A laugh cuts off the joke, drowns out the W.A.S.P. cassette playing softly through the stereo a few feet away. One of those hulking, cordless monstrosities that weighed more than the two of you combined. Somehow, it always came with you, when you made an escape to the empty rooftop of Hawkins Records. It was a music store after all, and you were allowed certain joys of donning the holy title of Shop Manager.

Your smile grows wider then, and Eddie turns a wandering gaze back to you, his fear on hold. That unmistakable light he held, it appeared back in his eyes, then. Laughter faded out with the song drifting through the speakers, and you squeezed the hands entwined with yours.

"That's a no then? Because I swear you've said you'd make it up to me so many -"

Eddie huffs a laugh, pulls himself up so he's sitting in front of you. Your hands fall into his lap, but neither of you move.

"No. I mean I will, obviously - in so many fucking ways, babe, but - I.. .was gonna say something else."

"About that?"

He hesitates. Shrugs. "Yeah, in a way."

"Then try me, Munson."

A breeze flutters through the rooftop, ruffling clothes and hair and everything in-between. The deepening sunset veiled the air with that dreamy shade of pastel pink only found during golden hours. It gifted you both with those infamous rose colored glasses you had always been warned of.

See the full post

254 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

monster hunting would suck without you

[ eddie munson x you ]

author's note: canon officially has no home here! aka the one where Eddie is fine 💘 injury, language, nightmares and vol 2 spoilers

word count: 1418

The thing about real monster hunting, was it scared the shit out of you.

Fear, adrenaline, blood, sweat and tears. Expectations paled in comparison when you were thrown in the thick of a fight, thrown into new realms and realities crawling with creatures of the night. Imaginations were a good start, of course, but there was nothing about novels or daydreams or Eddie's beloved campaigns that would have prepared you - any of you - for this.

Even so -

You made it. All of you did. Everyone held their life near and dear, though the journey was documented on flesh and bone, well enough. No one made it out unscathed, but then again - what did you expect?

Bruises bloomed up your arms and along your ribs, painting your skin all the colors of a night blooming garden. They were deep, the various shades of violets and navy that appeared on your skin, and, over the last day or so, the cool colors had given way to deep greens and yellows that Eddie really fucking hated to look at.

Naturally, he couldn't take his eyes off them. Couldn't stop tracing outlines around the scrapes that decorated your cheekbone, your jaw - feather light shapes that tickled while you were awake. Gentle fingertips that glided those same patterns while you were asleep, always at his bedside.

(You curled up next to him in the hospital bed, when the nurse wasn't looking, and the doctor was off duty.)

A day or so had passed now - you weren't entirely sure, to be honest - since your grand return from the Upside Down. Sleep was beginning to leave you now; the fuzziness of a heavy dream began to recede, replaced instead with the feel of chilled metal kissing your hip, and slowly dragging up your spine. You shifted, the distraction an unwelcome thing, even though the dream would pull you right back to that eerie world with the royal blue air.

That coldness again - it threatened to pull you away from the Demobats. Oh, how they circled a whirlwind fury around a body unmoving at your feet, with wrists bound while Eddie -

Eddie -

He was. . .

He was dying, and -

You wake up with a start. Consciousness seemed to hold you close this time. There were arms around you - familiar, warm, covered in tattoos - and ringed hands, black polished fingertips soothed circles into your back, gently cupping your jaw - the one unscathed - to bring it towards the man that was supposed to be dead.

(He's so mindful of your injuries, you almost forget you have them.)

"God." you exhale harshly, when Eddie's eyes meet your own. "Sleeping is gonna fucking suck now, isn't it?"

A half assed smile graces his lips, yet worry had made a home in his expression again. This wasn't the first time he had to wake you up from a nightmare in the making. It certainly wasn't the first time you had dreamt of Eddie dying either.

"Well, you do insist on sleeping in a hospital bed, babe. Fucking no one sleeps on these. Like. Ever."

He coaxes a smile out of you, as always - this time it's hesitant, but genuine - and that fear you felt, back in the Upside Down. . .it dissipates, slowly, with the remnants of the dream. But Eddie -

Eddie's eyes are still on yours, wide and soft and that beautiful deep brown - and you both melt just a little when this moment settles around two sets of shoulders, crammed side by side on a shitty Hawkins General mattress only meant for one.

It's intense, his gaze. You have to break it. You have to look away from him, you have to look out the window overlooking swaying trees and darkened skies and stale yellow headlights as they drive by in the night. You ground yourself by his touch, the feel of his chest under shaking hands. The warmth he radiates that glides through your fingers, that presses through entangled legs and settles quickly in the depths of your chest.

He gives you time to breathe. Always, the patient lover.

"I suppose it could be the bed," you begin, eyes still searching, searching, searching through the dark. Eddie's cradling your neck now, thumb brushing mindlessly across your skin. The other hand slides up your spine. Then down. Rinse and repeat. "And not the scary monster dreams."

"Nah. We kicked their asses, babe. They probably have nightmares of you slicing off their wings while looking like a smokin' hot badass-"

The laugh that spills through your lips is unexpected. Effortless, even now.

Tension breaks with every breath you take, with every laugh that leaves your lips. You double over onto Eddie's chest, whose hands slide carefully around your waist to hold you as tight as he dares.

(You're careful to skirt the bandages under his gown, when you curl your fingers into him.)

See the full post

303 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Lucifer in the Arms of Persephone

[ matt murdock x you ]

author’s note: why yes, i am rewatching daredevil and continuing to thirst over matt murdock without hesitation. swearing, a touch of religious trauma if you squint

word count: 1541

Incoming call: Matt Murdock, 9:12 am, Tuesday.

“Hey. Haven’t heard from you in a couple days. Just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Delete.

Incoming call: Matt Murdock, 8:43 pm, Wednesday.

“Look- I know that was – is – a lot, but if you could just – I need to know how you’re doing. Please.”

A hesitation. Finger hovering over the little trashcan. Then, his voice spills through the speaker once more:

“At least call Karen or Foggy.”

Laughter, twisted, a huff of air from your lungs. Delete.

The next evening, you found yourself standing outside the worn, wooden door of the place Daredevil came to ground. You chose this time of day with care: that liminal space before nightfall, that golden hour ushering the prime of day back to it’s cage barred with loneliness. Before night fell and the monsters came out to play, before devils ran across rooftops searching for that special someone to quench the thirst of blood spilled in the name of justice.

You wanted him to see you before he went hunting again.

A flare of pain, when knuckles met the door. The act was sharper, harsher than intended, the sting jarring you roughly, carelessly back into the present. Back into your body. The call of Matt’s voice brought you far away from the thoughts you explored the entirety of the train ride over, to this very spot you’ve stood a thousand times before.

Familiarity engulfed you, the warmth of moments similar to this one rushed you without call, without further warning they were arriving. The hallway seemed unseasonably warm, for this Thursday evening in the dead of winter.

Come in, he calls.

You do. The click of the door behind you feels finalized, somehow, like you’re trapped in this moment, this place. Yet, so very unwilling to fight to leave it, to abandon the future where it stands. Something whispers in your ear to let it be, shake the door open and never look back.

You don’t, though. You take a step forward. Another. Round the corner of the make-shift front hall, breath hitching when you see him.

He’s seated on the sofa, leather worn with time. Streams of honey amber sunlight spilled through dusty, dirty windows on it’s descent back into the underworld until the next morning. Pages are scattered before him on the coffee table – case files you imagine – his fingers caressing the raised words. He was hunched over them, even as you came closer. Noticed remnants of his work suit clinging to him like a lifeline, a drastic measure to remember his life on the right side of the law.

Hair disheveled, tie hanging loose and top buttons undone. He paused, when he heard your heart speed up, head turning faintly in your direction. His glasses were off; you could see his eyes.

“Was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

You halted just out of reach.

“I wondered the same thing.

He pulls his hands to his lap, inhales sharply. You watched, soundless. Moving to the chair opposite him crossed your mind – but your feet wouldn’t move, wouldn’t listen to the part of your mind that knew something you couldn’t. The part that didn’t care how much you missed Matthew Murdock, how beautiful he looked gilded in the last crying rays of the sunlight, like one of the holy saints he was supposed to revere.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t anymore, not really. He was too close to them now.

You simply stayed where you were, and waited.

“All right, let’s hear it.”

A beat. You blink. He says it so easily.

“What?”

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369 notes - Posted January 19, 2022

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honey-tea-and-cookies · 3 years ago

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More Love For These Placements <3

Hi everybody! A bit over a month ago I made a post called My Love For These Placements, and it did well, so I decided to make another with more placements I love!! The only difference is the last one was completely inspired by my best friend, and this one is about placements that many different people in my life have!! I hope you all enjoy <3

Leo Venus: I would die for every single one of you. Always so empathetic and giving. The most emotionally available Venus sign, honestly. You always believe me, and treat me with the utmost kindness. You have this uncanny ability of knowing the exact words I need to hear, or the exact treatment I need. So gentle and so open-minded. You know sometimes I just need someone to listen, totally non-judgementally. People always say you are generous, but not many talk about how you are generous with your time as well. You give up your free time, your break time, time when you are busy, time when you aren't doing so great yourself. You'd give it all up for me if I truly needed. As much as you might only say it out loud occasionally, every single action you make towards me is filled with love. In fact, I believe you are made of love. Admittedly guarded, but the most sincere and over flowing love.

Cancer Rising: My pretty boy. Obviously not every Cancer rising is a boy and I'll assume most if you aren't. However, 'my pretty boy' has a particular energy that I feel for you all that doesn't work with any other term. You are all gorgeous. Your skin is so soft. It's not often clear, but it is soft. You have beautiful hands. I know you bite your nails and I know they might be rough from work, but they're so beautiful. Please, let me hold them for a while? You don't have to think or worry. I won't hurt you. I just want to adore you in a way I don't believe you are familiar with. Do you know how wonderful you are? I try and tell you but the words don't come out. When I finally work up the courage you just say "I'm flattered", which makes me think you don't believe me. I emphasise how much I mean it, and you say you know, but I don't think you do. Dear, you are the constellations and stars themselves. You are every breathtaking intricacy of the universe. I write about you, my muse. If you would let me cup your face, I'd hold the world in my hands, and you'd hit me playfully for saying something cheesy like that while your eyes become a little glassy. I think certain pet names sound gross or superficial, but if you called me 'babe' again I think I'd pass out. I'm so fucked, and it's all your gorgeous fault.

Aries Moon: You work impossibly hard for me. I know you're in pain and hurting. Please don't push yourself so much. I know you tie your worth to how productive or how helpful you can be. No one else does, though. It's okay to take time off. It's okay to take a breather. It's okay to take time for yourself. You let the ones you love off the hook so easy. I'm begging you to extend that same kindness to yourself. Do you remember when I threw up on you that time? All you said was "Fucking hell, seriously?" and then looked after me with no more complaints for the rest of the day. I ruined your favourite shirt. You told me to forget about it and rest. I can see through you, ya know. We all know you aren't as big and bad as you want us to think. It's okay. Even through the "If anyone hurt you I'd break their nose", we can see the point is 'I love you and can't stand you hurt'. It is the greatest honour to see you vulnerable. Not that I like you being sad, but being able to hold you after you've spend our whole lives looking after me, it feels good to repay the favour. Please, let me love you softly more often. Seeing the true you and your true feelings is such a gift and I will forever be grateful. Thank you a thousand times over.

Gemini Rising: You are the brightest people in the world. Like physically you have incredibly beautiful bright eyes, and also you just glow. You are so fucking pretty. I must've spent hours staring at your face, and body, and hands, trying to commit every little thing to memory. Your style would be god awful on anyone else, but you work it surprisingly well. You are so easy to fall in love with. Not even necessarily romantically, fall in love platonically as well. Your hugs could solve every problem in the world. They are more or less of a safe place for me. You bring out a side of me no one else does. A better. more honest side of me. I mean I'm always honest, but with you it's different. I can start a conversation with "I'm gonna hit this guy with my car" and you wouldn't even flinch. You also have this insane belief in me, that I can do anything I put my mind to. I can't, but you will argue with me to the death about that. Secretly the most supportive and aggressively encouraging people ever. I love you, even if you won't say it back :)

Scorpio Moon: I've been attracting a lot of you lately actually. Easily the best conversationalists I've ever met. I hate how easily you can get information out of me, it's almost embarrassing. It just goes to show that no one is immune to the amazing detective skills of Scorpio. I also love how curious you all are. It's adorable, really. You love learning and you love asking questions, digging deep. I've never met a single Scorpio Moon who genuinely enjoyed school, but every single one has been an eager student in the real world. Quite creative people, and quite creative in their chosen field. Whether it be hairdressing, makeup, creative writing, music, whatever. All of you are brilliant. I always show my love by checking in, making sur you are safe and well and okay. I'm not sure if you understand that because generally people have to be more obviously affectionate than that, but I hope you know. Saying I love you or I care about you feels out of character for the kind of relationship we have, but I dearly hope you know. If you're a Scorpio Moon DM me and tell if you know I care about you 🙄🙄 <3

Moon in 1st House: First of all, the most amazing eyes I've ever seen. Also the best freckles, the nicest lips, the best eyebrows, eyelashes, all that. The softest cheeks. I have this undying urge to paint a picture of you. You are art. I could put you in a gallery, my love. People take advantage of you so often, and it's one of the things that anger me most in the world. You're such a sweet little thing. I don't say any of this to patronise you or anything like that. You are all extremely strong. You can handle yourself. I just want to protect you. I know you'll never let me, which I'll have to accept, but you can come to me if you ever need anything. Although honestly, it's me who needs you. Not once have you ever needed me. Confided in me? Trusted me? Sure. But never needed me. You're so easily embarrassed. I think it's the cutest thing in the world. Like, sweet love, you just asked what the temperature was today. Why are you blushing. Possibly my favourite thing about you though, is the fact that you say and do things despite any embarrassment or insecurity. You are so powerful in that way. I have so much to learn from you, and I only hope you see yourself as the divine individual you are.

Mercury in 3rd House: You make friends wherever you go, with absolutely whoever. Everyone likes you, adores you, are drawn to you. It's like a superpower. You are also totally oblivious. It baffles me how you could be so unaware of your own talent, but I digress. You can keep up with anyone and everyone. You can always add at least a little to any conversation. You might not, but you totally could. Writing may not be a strong suit of yours, but talking and languages definitely are. You impress everyone you ever meet. I am so proud of you. I want to be clear as well, here: it's not only people this applies to. You are like this with animals and very young kids too. You just feel like a safe person. You are a safe person. You are so smart. You amaze me every day. It's crazy how much I learn from you. I love you impossibly more than I say, you are one of my favourite placements, PLEASE tell me whatever you are currently learning about/reading about/excited about in the comments <333

Neptune in 12th House: I know a bit of an odd placement to love, but still. I'm sorry for what you go through. I know many things are not easy for you. You are very brave, you know that? You go through a lot of shit over your time on this Earth. I hope your soul gets to rest at some point. Speaking of souls, every Neptune in 12H person I've spoken to about spirituality/religion/etc has strongly believed they were put on this Earth for a reason and a purpose. I think that's beautiful, and incredibly admirable. This inner knowing generally makes you incredibly good people. Or at least doing the best you can at any one time. There can be self doubt issues or self image issues here. I just want to say that you are amazing. You are funny and gorgeous and desired and we all want you here. You deserve to be here. I see how hard you work, even just getting out of bed can be hard sometimes, but it does not go to waste. You are so powerful, and you are doing an *amazing* job sweetie :)

This is all I have today guys!! I feel like I didn't include many placements so I feel really bad, but also I wrote a paragraph for each of y'all so does that count?? Anyway, thank you so much for reading!! I'm sending you all SO much love!!! Have an amazing day or night <333

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xxlost-cityxx · 3 years ago

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ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS

Ship/Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki

TW/CW: Rough anal sex, virgin Katsuki Bakugou, slight choking, slight piss kink/bladder control, brief spanking, rimming, bottom Katsuki, dom Kirishima, begging, crying, anal fingering, degredation and praise

I posted this on Ao3 literally last night, so enjoy.

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Stupid fucking Kirishima with his stupid fucking face and stupid fucking body-

Again. Once-a-fucking-gain. Katsuki was hard at work. Kirishima had simply aided Katsuki in a surprisingly powerful villain attack- even though everyone knew Dynamight had it under control. But Eijirou's help...made it easier to take down the villain- NOT that Katsuki needed his help in the first place.

The villain landed a hit on Katsuki and he flew into a pile of concrete and wooden rubble, and the next thing he saw was Red Riot, unhardened, nearly body slamming the guy into a wall, digging his forearm and elbow into his neck and his knee between his legs. It looked painful for the villain and it looked like Ejirou was definitely holding back from completely crushing the dude's balls...But. The way Kirishima was looking at the guy, a stone cold face, a deadly glare he hasn't seen since the last time Eijirou had heard Monama talk back in U.A. He was mad. And Gods if that sight didn't make him pop a boner-

So now here he was. Virgin Katsuki pretending he was too good to be around all his druken friends who were surely getting laid tonight, meanwhile, all Katuski would do tonight is ride his dildo until the sun came up.

Bakugou couldn't jack off. It wasn't really a fact, but he's pretty sure that any man would avoid jacking off with even a small risk that you might blow your own dick off, especially if you were gay. Gods bless the prostate. And really, it takes forever to cum riding 6 inches of colored silicone without touching your dick, but the point was, it got the job done and no one knew his secret to having 'thunder thighs' or some shit. He still remembers the first interveiwer who asked about his leg day routine, stating that he had entranced everyone with his thighs or some shit. He never thought he'd be referred to as 'thick' or whatever it was.

He took another shot of vodka, ignoring the pestering jealousy as he watched Kirishima dance with Denki. It was obviously platonic, not only did they repeatedly state in multible interviews that they were 'strictly bromance' and that they liked fucking with their fans's minds, Denki was dating Dead Eyes and Earphones.

Bakugou wasn't even a little tipsy really, it took a lot to get him drunk. It took a lot to get any of them drunk, but that didn't stop anyone from trying. But Bakugou wasn't going to go home drunk and have drunken masturbation for 5 hours, never was his thing. So he'd stick to being sober for tonight.

He growled as Kirishima's hand was on Denki's hip, Kaminari's back against Eijirou's chest. The much smaller blonde wiggled his hips against Kirishima's surely soft dick. Sero and Mina were laughing their asses off from their seats, Denki smirking and trying to be as dramatic and intimate as he could, a few phones recording them.

Katsuki growled to himself, slamming the shot glass on the bar top so hard it slightly cracked. He stood up and grabbed his coat, oblivious to how red eyes quickly switched from watching the smiling and laughing faces of his friends to laser focused on the ash blonde in a split second.

As Katsuki left the bar, he grumbled to himself until he was outside his place.

An hour later, he was panting. It felt like his entire body was covered in lube by the time he was bouncing on the silicone properly. He frowned, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the head bump into his prostate with practiced movements, usually a feeling that would have him gasping and shuttering, but he wanted this cock to be Kirishima's. He was sick and tired of riding an inanimate object that didn't praise him, didn't make noise, didn't cum. He wanted to be pinned and fucked so hard he would have to call off work the next day.

He whimpered as his toned thighs easily let him travel up and down the silicone. Silicone. He couldn't even get himself hard, he was soft, even with his ass stuffed and his prostate stimulated, he was soft. There wasn't a twitch, and even his prostate felt dull.

He groaned to himself, sliding off the dildo and reaching for his phone. He quickly unlocked it and pulled up his gallery with his singular 'clean' finger, quickly going to his hidden folder and clicking on the picture that always got him hard. Kirishima did a photoshoot nearly 6 months ago, he was in a kimono that was completely opened with white pants that banded to his stomach. He stared at Katsuki through the picture, a belt in his big, tanned hand. He already felt his cock harden slightly, a small frown painting his face as that was like a weak attempt at mimicking his usual reaction to the picture.

He slid back on the dildo propping his phone against his wall and started bouncing. He imagined those toned hands sliding against his back, barely touching him, and it was almost like he could feel it, his body twitching with slight interest. He imagined his voice, telling him to ride the dildo, training his hole for what was surely a monster cock, Eijirou too nice to let Katsuki destroy himself on his cock right off the bat...unless… What if he would just fuck him? And that got his reaction. His dick was fully hard now, but it wasn't aching with need like usual.

What if Eijirou would slam into him as soon as the dildo was out? Would he let Katsuki adjust, or would he pound him into oblivion with the raw power his body held?

He let out a moan, but the pleasure didn't last long as his phone started ringing. He nearly flinched, scowling at his phone for ruining what he worked hard for, but his face sofened as it was Kirishima calling him.

His mouth went dry, his eyes slightly wide. He doesn't know what really compelled him to answer the phone, but as Kirishima's voice rang through the other end, he couldn't help but bite his lip and shift on the dildo. "W-What do you need, Dumbass?" He asked, cursing himself for starting his sentence off weak. "Haha- Hey, Kat! I just wanted to made sure you were okay. You hit that rubble pretty hard today, and you left earlier than usual." His cheery, sober, voice said. Katsuki closed his eyes, slowly rolling his hips up the dildo, the familiar arousal burning in his stomach, finally.

He stifled a whimper, "M' fine, Shitty Hair…." He pretended to grumble out, desperate to think of something to keep him on the line as long as possible. "That's great! I was a little worried, y'know. Didn't want to lose the manliest man I've even known since highschool!" He said, and Bakugou's heart did a mixture of dropping and fluttering. He felt guilty for trying to get off to his voice, clearly ignorant and innocent, but he couldn't help but acknowledge that he didn't refer to him as his best friend which would usually put him down. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his hips, gasping as he accidentally his his prostate. He dropping the phone, slapping a hand over his face. "Katsuki!? What was that?" Kirishima urgently called. Bakugou's dick was on fire, his body was alight with arousal, if only Kirishima knew.

He hesitantly picked up the phone. "I'm f-fine~ Shitty Hair!" He replied, cursing himself for not stopping himself from slowly bouncing on the dildo again.

Silence.

He slightly wondered if he accidentally hung up, but there was still static. "I'm not stupid, Katsuki." Kirishima suddenly said. Bakugou froze. His voice was lower but soft, almost like he was hesitant to say it in the first place. "W-..What the hell are you talking about?" He asked, not daring to move on the dildo, even though he wanted to take advantage of Kirishima's tone so fucking bad.

"Are you getting off right now?" Kirishima asked, Bakugou suddenly became aware of how slick and schelchy the lube was. Bakugou's throat closed up, his mouth too dry to produce words. "Fuck…" Kirishima whispered, the sound making Bakugou's eyes widen. "Are you trying to fuck with me…?" He asked, but Bakugou wasn't deaf to the distant sound of Kirishima nearly break checking himself.

Bakugou whimpered quietly, but a part of him prayed that Kirishima heard him, and as his breath hitched over the phone, he knew he did.

"Fuck-" Kirishima groaned. Bakugou gasped at the sound, bouncing on the plastic lightly once again, the lewd noises surely reaching the phone. "C-Come over." Bakugou's stern voice said, once again sounding weak in the beginning. "Already on my way." Kirishima nearly whispered back.

Bakugou's body was on fire, every part of him was twitching. The call ended only a minute ago, and suddenly Bakugou's night was going to change who he was. He was hard, nervous, excited but horny above all else. As soon as he heard his front door open and nearly slam shut, Bakugou gasped, trying to let out his nerves. Heavy, fast footsteps made their way down his halls, and suddenly Bakugou was conscious about how he should present himself.

He didn't have time, and so he let himself be cocky, leaning forward on his hands, arching his back and rolling his hips on the silicone gracefully, and it probably looked a little too good based on how smooth the action felt. But he didn't have room for his usual pride, Kirishima was stuck in the doorway with his mouth slightly open and wide eyes. Bakugou looked at him in the mirror to his side, and his eyes were staring at him.

"Holy fuck.." He groaned, his hand slowly moving to his crotch, but he gripped the inside of his thigh. Mid. Thigh.

Bakugou's eyes widened as he finally had the rough sketch of Eijirou's cock in his mind, and fuck he wanted to go stupid with cock.

"C'mon…" Bakugou nearly whimpered, rolling his hips a little more dramatically. Kirishima groaned in the doorway, slowly walking into the room, Bakugou's position giving him the perfect view of his pink, glistening and stretched hole swallowing the silicone easily, the dildo's girth seemed pathetic to what Eijirou knew he had.

Eijirou knelt down behind him, and as Katsuki smiled, expecting him to caress his body, that didn't happen.

Kirishima quickly wrapped his hand around the smaller man's throat, yanking him back to meet his still clothed chest. Bakugou wheezed at the unexpected and sudden movement, but fuck if his own cock didn't love it already.

"Riding this pathetic dildo while I was out there concerned about you, hm?" He darkly whispered, his finger tips lightly digging into his neck. Bakugou whimpered, wiggling his hips back, trying to get a feel for the man's clothed cock for himself. Kirishima sighed, almost in disappointment. "Tell me.. What were you thinking about? Riding this pathetic excuse of a dildo." He asked, talking right into Bakugou's ear. Bakugou let out a stuttering breath, squirming in Kirishima's sturdy grip.

"Tell me."

Bakugou gasped at his dark tone paired with his hand gripping his entire neck roughly. He wasn't used to feeling so small compared to someone else, but fuck he was loving it.

"Y-You…" Bakugou gasped out as Kirishima loosened his grip just enough. "What about me..?" He asked, only slightly softer.

Katsuki's cock was aching, begging for the same attention Eijirou was giving his throat. "H-How hard you would fuck me- How big your cock is…" Bakugou finally admitted, squeezing his eyes shut.

Kirishima hummed in his ear, his hand moving to the back of Bakugou's neck instead and pulling him up to his feet. Bakugou let out a guttural moan as he was ripped off the dildo still suctioned to the floor.

Kirishima hummed, noting how the dildo really did look like a pathetic version of himself.

Kirishima dragged Bakugou to his bed, glaring at the blonde when he tried to move. He pulled off his own shirt and pants quickly before joining him on the bed. Bakugou's eyes quickly widened at the sight, his mouth slightly open and his face slightly filled with fear and shock, but quickly replaced with determination. "Better fucking prep me, asshole." Bakugou spit out, laying on his back.

He didn't expect Kirishima's rough nature to continue though. Eijirou glared at Bakugou before swiftly gripping his neck and pinning him further into the mattress. "Excuse you? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to right now? Order me around again, I fucking dare you." Kirishima spit out a look of fake disgust on his face. Bakugou was shocked by the moan that left him, more than happy with his decisions from tonight, at least so far.

He yelped as Kirishima's hand left his neck and grabbed his hips instead. Kirishima pulled his ass into the air, Bakugou's legs spreading automatically, falling to almost meet his chest. "W-What are you gonna do?" Bakugou asked, eyes wide with arousal. "None of your fucking buisness." Kirishima spit out, digging his thumbs into the stretched pink muscle. Bakugou gasped as Eijirou pulled his rim apart, testing just how stretched he was.

Bakugou saw his cock when he took off his pants, the way it weighed itself down, how his fingertips would definetly have trouble touching each other, and the fucking length- he wondered if Kirishima would actually show through his stomach…

As Kirishima added a finger to stretch and play with his rim, he decided to take down the roughness, only for a couple seconds though. "Use the traffic light system, okay?" He almost ordered, wanting to keep the same sexual energy but also let Bakugou know there was a safe way out. Bakugou's breath stuttered and he quickly nodded, having read enough fanfiction about being fucked by Kirishima and having done enough research to know something as simple as the traffic light system, and he's so fucking green.

Bakugou didn't expect a tongue to enter him though.

Bakugou nearly shouted, gripping at the sheets before pathetically trying to reach for the other man's head. "N-No!" Bakugou shouted, but it was moan filled and an empty request. Kirishima's eyes shifted to Bakugou, lapping his tongue over the blonde's rim before softly shoving it inside as far as he could.

Bakugou was squirming around at the foregin feeling, gasping every time he moved his tongue, it felt so warm, soft and perfectly wet.

Kirishima took his mouth away, licking his lips as he roughly slammed 3 fingers into the unsuspecting hole. He quickly spread them as far as he could, Bakugou's gasp turning into a pained moan. As Kirishima softly stroked his slightly pulsing insides, Bakugou was panting with wide eyes. "Beg." Kirishima ordered darkly, jamming his fingers into Bakugou as far as he could, hitting his prostate hard.

Bakugou moaned out, caving in on himself because of how Kirishima held his ass up. But he wouldn't beg.

After a few seconds of soft finger thrusting and no begging, Kirishima picked up the pace, slipping one of his fingers out, knowing Katsuki won't like the lack of fullness anymore. He jams his fingers into his prostate every time, Bakugou's eyes nearly crossing as he tries to arch his back but just keeps caving in on himself.

"Fucking. Beg." "F-Fuck you.." Bakugou responds, his voice shakey, the defiance fake and fragile. Kirishima's eyes narrow, a frown forming on his lips. "Fine." He replies, shifting one hand to Bakugou's abdomen and pressing, pleased with the slight fullness under a specific layer of muscle. He continued to slam into his g-spot, Bakugou's eyes widening and getting slightly watery. "W-Wait-!" Bakugou moaned out loud, slight panic coating his oh so beautiful face. The tip of his penis kept rubbing against Kirishima's arm, and he knew so much stimulation was working against him. He was either going to beg or piss himself.

"S-Stop! Too much- T-Too fucking much! I have to go you f-fuckkk-ing lunatic!" He moaned out, grabbing at Kirishima's arms. "Beg. Beg for me to fuck you, or you're going to piss yourself, get your clean sheets dirty, all unsatisfied and embarrassed. Poor little Katsuki couldn't hold his little blatter while I fucked you with my fingers." Eijirou cooed, tiliting his head a little before bending down and licking along the back of his thigh to the crease of his ass. He travels up to his sack and licks him firmly with the flat of his tongue.

Katsuki screams.

His clawing becomes frantic, and he's sure he's sobbing, but he's no match for even Kirishima's strength. "N-No! Ei- Stop! I-I'm gonna pee!" Katsuki cries, thrashing around as much as he can. But as Eijirou gently sucks in one of his balls, his resolve snaps. "Please! Please, please, please!" Katsuki finally cries, Eijirou's fingers slowing down and his hand letting up on his blatter. He moves away from Katsuki's cock and smirks down at the red and teary face below him.

"Please what?" He asks, Bakugou's eyes widening. "P...Please… Please fuck me… I want you to fuck me with your fat cock!" He cries, tears falling from his eyes.

Eijirou sighs, content with his work. "Good boy~" He coos, swiftly plunging 2 more fingers inside and spreading them. Katsuki gasps, looking up at Kirishima who refuses to look away from his face.

As Kirishima slowly pulls out, he bends over and grabs the lube from the floor, popping open the cap and pouring it into Katsuki. He flinches and wines at how cold it is, and Eijirou just travels the bottle to his cock, rubbing his hand over it and coating everything with lube.

As he sloppily closes the bottle, he moves Katsuki onto his stomach, Bakugou groaning as he was finally out of that horrid position.

Kirishima places the tip at his entrance, kissing Bakugou's nape, and right as Bakugou prepares for a dreadfully slow slide. Kirishima slams into the hilt. Bakugou's eyes shoot wide and his thrusted up further into the bed with the force, his mouth dropping open as a horrid moan filled scream leaves him.

This is it….he's not a virgin anymore…

He feels nothing but cock, painfully perfect cock that makes it hard to breathe.

Kirishima groans at the tight feeling, his body shaking as he convinces himself not to fuck Katsuki into oblivion.

Eijirou starts off slow, dragging his cock out halfway before pressing in again, the pace making them both groan. God, Katsuki's back tooks so fucking pretty all arched like that, delicate but strong all in one. He always knew Bakugou would look so pretty with his face burried in sheets, his ass high in the air and filled with his cock.

He feels himself slipping, his thrusts slipping into violent, angry lust every so often before he catches himself quickly.

But as Katsuki's sweet moans keep reaching his ears, he finally gives in, grabbing Katsuki's wrists and pulling them back, lifting Katsuki off the bed and using his wrists as leverage, pulling his weak body back onto his cock as he slams his hips into the man's ass.

"Holy fucking shit~" Bakugou's voice calls out as Kirishima's thrusts get rougher, violent. His voice bounced with the thrusts, his moans cutting each other off as Kirishima no longer cares about hitting the man's prostate, pounding into him purely for selfish pleasure Bakugou didn't know he was capable of.

"Fucking pathetic cocksleeve- Such a fucking whore for dick, huh? You fucking-love! -taking my fat cock like this!" Kirishima spits out, pulling on Katsuki's wrists harder. Bakugou's eyes are crossing, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

'Ruining me-'

"Not a single thought going through that head of yours, huh? Just taking my cock so good like this, loving how I ruin every other cock out there for you! Only my cock can make you cum, can make you feel so fucking good!" "Y-Yes~" Bakugou's broken voice cries out, tears sliding down his cheeks.

The bed is slamming into the wall so hard the pictures are rattling, and Bakugou can't register anything but cock, pleasure, Kirishima and cumming.

"So fucking good, so~ fUCKing go-od~" Bakugou sobs, not caring of the searing pain in his arms and shoulder blades. But as Kirishima angles his hips, he starts slamming into Bakugou's prostate, and as Bakugou tries to arch in Kirishima's hold, he cums. He clamps around his cock so hard Kirishima moans, letting go of Katsuki's arms and letting him fall face first into the bed as his entire body rocks with unbroken thrusts, shaking with the ongoing orgasm that never seems to end. Eijirou hears the sobbing and groans with pleasure, swinging his hand down to Bakugou's ass, growling as he watches the muscle and fat ripple with the perfect impact.

Kirishima puts his hands in the curve of Katsuki's spine, pressing him down and shifting forward, slightly sitting back on his calves as he jackhammers into Bakugou's swollen, red and oh so fucking soft boy cunt.

Katsuki is screaming but it's so distant to Eijirou, all he can hear is the squelching of his ass and all he can think of is cumming.

"FUCK- EIJIROU~" Katsuki screams, sobbing and begging for him to slow down, not to thrust so hard, not to be so brutal. He can't feel his limbs, all he can feel is the overstimulation as his body is pounded so hard he inches forward on his bed, only to be pulled back just as quickly. He feels like a cocksleeve because he is one.

Kirishima groans, finally slamming into Katsuki with all he has, his cock pulsing inside Bakugou almost like a slow vibrator. As Kirishima completely fills Katsuki's intestines with cum, his own cock spurts out a pathetic amount of it's own cum, his balls drawing up tight and his cock twitching with painful interest.

Kirishima and Bakugou are panting, and as Eijirou gives another overstimulated thrust for good measure, the both moan out.

"F-Fuck…." Kirishima groans, Katsuki panting into the sheets with wide, tired eyes.

He really did ruin Katsuki's chances at fucking anyone else. There's no way he can go back to toys, and there's no way he can fuck anyone else.

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha imagines #kirishima #kirishima eijiro #kiribaku #kiribaku thirst #kiribaku smut #mha smut #mha thirst #bnha smut #bnha thirsts #kirishima thirst #bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #mha oneshot #smut #aged up

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unwantedtomost · 4 years ago

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it had been months — sebastian stan

sebastian stan x fem!reader

word count: 4,401 words

summery: it had been nine months since you and your first real long term boyfriend broke up. but as they say, time makes the heart grow fonder ... and it also made the lust build up.

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, cheating, kind of a breeding kink at the end, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

a/n: i have never actually posted a whole thing on here before, so i hope this goes well. i know my writing can improve, but it’s pretty good i would say. enjoy!

It had been months since you had broken up with your long-term boyfriend. Your first long-term boyfriend you had since you arrived to the Hollywood scene. Nine months, to be exact. The same amount of time it would have been to carry a child. A hypothetical child. The same hypothetical child that ruined your relationship in the first place.

“You don’t want kids?” Sebastian questioned as soon as you entered the shared apartment. The topic of children came up at dinner with your shared friends. You, offhandedly said: “God, no,” with a laugh, not giving it a second thought. Not till now.

“Not really,” you said as you unzipped your heeled boots. “I never really have, not since I was younger.”

“Never?” He asked, heart starting to beat heavier.

You looked up to him, concerned when you saw his face. It was the same face he had on every time you guys got in a face, mixed with disappointment, maybe even hurt. You smiled, trying to lighten the situation.

“Maybe not never,” you said, putting your shoes away. “But not at least for ten years, maybe even longer. I mean, I am only twenty-two. I would like a good life without children before bringing them into the mix.”

Your warm smile and calm demeanor did nothing to elevate the tension, something inside you saying it did the exact opposite. He looked serious and upset, a combination you never saw much.

“In ten years I’ll be almost fifty,” Sebastian states.

“So? Guys never really stop shooting out good rounds. All my parts will still be intact by that time too.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?” You were confused. Why was he acting like this?

“I shouldn’t be old enough to be the kid’s grandfather.”

Anger started to bubble up as well. This tone that he had made you pissed off. He was talking like you were stupid like you didn’t get what he was saying. The brassiness you had in general not helping your temper.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you started dating someone sixteen years younger than you,” you shot back.

Then the yelling started. Something that could have been a deep, meaningful conversation (one that frankly should have been had way before this point) turned into a full-blown fight. You both started going in at each other, picking at old scabs that you knew would hurt. That was the point, after all, you just wanted to hurt each other. Because you were mad and upset, you guessed, but by the end of it, you weren’t even sure.

The fighting ended two hours later, you sat, slumped on the couch, huffing. You tried to catch your breath from all the yelling. Your throat was hoarse, your cheeks sticky from dried tears.

“It seems like we’re not gonna work out then,” you said, numb.

“Seems so.”

And you left that night, grabbing nothing but your phone before making your way to your closest friend’s house.

After that, you cried for two months straight. You really thought that Sebastian was endgame. That you would be together forever. That you would be happy. Ever since you caught sight of him at your first audition, you felt that he was the one. Then the universe laughed maniacally as it showed you just how fucking wrong you were.

In the past nine months, you had seen him approximately sixteen times, most being in passing, a few being at parties, and one time being at a coffee shop that you both loved. You started to frequent it less after the breakup, too scared to bump into him. Little did you know, he was doing the same thing. The day you two saw each other was both of your first times in three months.

It was all stupid small talk until it wavered, forced laughs and fake smiles fading as the reality of the situation simmered in.

“Look, y/n—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted. You knew what he was going to say, and you didn’t want to hear it. You simply couldn’t. “It was nice seeing you again, Sebastian. I hope you have a good life.” You took a few steps before turning back around for a moment. He looked at you like he was expecting you to run into his arms and make everything go back to normal. “And I really hope you meet a girl that can give you what you need.”

He tried to reach out to you, but you wouldn’t let him. You simply walked away and left him, alone. That was the last time you had spoken to him.

It was five months after the breakup until you let your friends talk you into going out again. And that night you had run into none other than the Timothee Chalamet. Numbers were exchanged then the next thing you knew, you were naked in his hotel room. After that, you went through a bit of a “hoe stage.” Every two weeks you were on a cover of TMZ, E!, or any other celebrity gossip magazine that existed with a “possible new thing.” The people ranged from Tom Holland to Madison Beer, and no one knew what was true or not. After the first few batches came out, you stopped giving a shit. You were allowed to rebound with whomever or however you wanted to, and you were taking full advantage of that.

You were so busy juggling so many people that you hadn’t even thought about Sebastian. Not till right now. Your eyes catch his from across the ballroom that you’re currently in. Your pulse quickens rapidly, you feel like you might even faint. If it wasn’t for Timothee’s hand on your waist, you were sure you would have collapsed on the spot. You watched as Sebastian’s jaw clenched just like it did whenever you did something he disapproved of. Just like it did every time he gave into himself and read one of those stupid gossip sights and saw you all over whatever arm candy you had chosen for the week.

“I’ll be right back, okay babe?” Timothee said, kissing you on the cheek. He waited for you to nod before making his way to one of his friends.

You don’t know what to do and those beautiful blue eyes you fell in love with all that time ago refuse to leave yours. You feel like you want to cry, or scream, or throw up, but you know that you shouldn’t actually do any of those things. You’d draw attention and you don’t want any more people talking about you.

Luckily, one of your best friends, Elizabeth, pulls you into a tight hug and brings you back to earth. Her body feels warm and it makes you feel safe, the smell of her strawberry shampoo bringing you comfort.

“I know,” she said before you spoke. “I saw. Are you okay? I’ll leave with you right now if you want to.”

It takes you a minute to process everything, and even though you’re running everything through your mind, nothing really sinks in.

“I’ll be fine,” you say with conviction, though you don’t know if it’s true at all. “Leaving wouldn’t accomplish anything.” You stop talking for a minute before smiling at Elizabeth. “Now, let’s go give the people what they want and take some pictures together.”

It had been two hours and the event was finally coming to a close. No more than forty-five minutes and the place would be cleared out. With that knowledge, you went to go take advantage of the free bar stocked up with expensive liquor. After schmoozing with people you did not even want to interact with, you deserve it.

“Two shots of tequila and a rum and coke, please,” you say to the rather cute bartender, shoulders slumping.

As soon as the two shot glasses were in front of you, you downed them. It burned like hell and you could only imagine the ungodly face you made. You tried to chase it with the rum and coke, but it didn’t help much. You heard a gruff voice beside you order something, one that was very familiar. When you heard a chuckle, you knew for sure who was right next to you. You froze again, that same dizzy, sick feeling coming back. You turned your head slowly to see those big blue eyes for the second time tonight, your heart surely beating loud enough that anyone in a mile radius could hear it.

“You look beautiful tonight, y/n,” Sebastian said, leaning against the bar, facing you.

“You do too,” you blurt out. Face turning red after you realized that you’re fucking stupid. “I mean, you look—shit. You look very nice, Seb—Sebastian.”

You’re so flustered and red, you want to simply sink into the floor. For a moment, you wonder why he isn’t acting the same way. It could be that he had already had some to drink or maybe he was just better at controlling his emotion. And the thought that makes dread flow through you is that maybe he is just over you.

“Are you going to an after-party?” He asks, sipping from his glass.

“I don’t think so,” you say. You were supposed to go to one with Timothee, where you were finally going to announce that you two had become official, but now you just want to go home. “Are you?”

“Probably not,” he said simply. “I’ll just have a few more of these back home and go to bed.”

“Drinking alone is no fun,” you say, hinting. You know what you are trying to get across but you don’t know why. It’s like your mouth was moving before your brain could understand what you were doing.

“It’s not ideal,” he said. “But I really don’t have a date to drink with, unlike you.” He pointed towards Timothee talking to a director you hastily met.

“He’s not my date,” you shot out. “I mean, he is, but we’re not like, dating.” Why the fuck are you talking!?!?

“It’s none of my business,” Sebastian said. He didn’t sound mean, he sounded like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know … but we’re not … if you were wondering.”

He chuckled, placing a hand on your elbow. “It was nice to see you again, y/n.”

He turned to start walking away but you called after him, making him turn back around. “Wait!” Once he was facing you, you felt like you were in a movie. “I could go for a drink.”

Sebastian smiled but his eyes dismissed you. “What are you doing, sugar?” He warned.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But don’t shut me down.”

With a shared smile, he took your hand and you both left the party. On the car ride back to his apartment (that used to be your apartment), you thought briefly about how you would explain this to Timothee in the morning. Then you turned off your phone so you didn’t have to feel guilty if he decided to text you. Neither of you spoke much on the way. His hand never left its place on your thigh before you were finally there.

When he opened the door, you stumbled lightly into the apartment. Sebastian caught you by wrapping his arm around your waist. He lightly sat you down on the chair by the entrance (the same one you had sat at nine months ago). Once he had closed the door and put his things down, he came back to you to help slip off your heels.

“Are you already drunk?” He chuckled.

“No, just a wee bit tipsy.”

“Your ‘wee bit’ is usually a lotta bit.”

“Not this time, I really mean just a wee wee bit.” You suddenly burst out laughing at the fact you just said wee wee, giving away the fact that you are indeed close to being drunk.

“Maybe you don’t need anymore to drink,” Sebastian said.

“C’mon, Sebby, take that stick out of your ass,” you say, making him laugh. It makes you feel lighter like you weren’t fucking shit up again. Like you weren’t making a mistake you would regret in the morning.

You watched as he made his way into the kitchen, pouring both of you a glass of red wine. Your favorite and most expensive red wine, the one that you had left at the apartment after the breakup. You wondered if it was the same bottle, or if he had done the same thing he was doing with you with another girl. When he came back, he handed you the glass which you placed down on the coffee table, realizing you were still in a designer white dress that you didn’t own.

“Shit,” you muttered after your realization.

“What is it?”

“This isn’t my dress.”

His eyes wandered down your figure as he thought. “You can take that off and I can hang it up for you. I’m sure there’s something here you can wear.”

You nodded before he was walking towards the bedroom, the one you once shared. You followed after him through the small hall. You looked around the room, noticing how boring it looked now. None of your decorations you had were up anymore, but the small mural you once painted in the middle of the night was still in full view. Did he think about you every time he saw it? If he did, why didn’t he just paint over it?

Sebastian placed one of his shirts (that was your favorite one to wear) and a pair of shorts you had thought you lost on the bed.

“Well, you can get changed in here,” he stated before going for the door.

“Actually,” you called out, stopping him from leaving. “Can you unzip me please?”

He paused for a moment before nodding, slowly making his way back to you. The room went silent as he softly collected your hair and moved it to one side. Heat started to rise through your body at the close proximity he held. His hands grazed your shoulders momentarily before he steadily unzipped the expensive dress. You caught his eyes in the mirror in front of you, your cheeks immediately burning red. He finished unzipping the dress before helping you slide it off your arms. You had to cover your breasts with your arm since you hadn’t worn a bra. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen your body before, he knew his way around there better than you did, but not covering yourself just felt inappropriate. But, to be fair, the entire situation felt inappropriate. The dress fell to a pool around your feet, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lace black underwear, ones that Sebastian had bought for you one month before you broke up. You stepped out of the dress, eyes never leaving his. He bent down to pick it up, blue orbs never leaving your eyes.

“I’ll go lay this on the guest bed,” Sebastian said plainly before leaving the room and closing the door.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you let your arm fall. Even though you hadn’t even had a conversation with Sebastian in six months, being in that moment felt more intimate than anytime you had sex with Timothee—or anyone, for that matter. You pulled on the worn-out gray tee shirt that vaguely had ‘Coca-Cola’ printed across it before going out to the living room where you found Sebastian sipping on his wine, now dress in an old tee and grey sweatpants.

The next hour felt like a blur, it was filled with giggles and stupid comments. By the end of it, the wine bottle was empty and you two were officially wine drunk. Now, you were slumped on the couch (the one that you picked out), leaning towards Sebastian, hand dancing along the cushion space between you two.

“Have you realized we never had a goodbye?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” He asked, not wanting his guess to what you were talking about to be right.

“I mean, we had a fight and I left then we were done. There were no ‘this is for the best’ speeches or attempts at a goodbye kiss. One day there was an us and the next it was … nothing.” You looked up at him, an innocent yet quizzical look on your soft features.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” he said.

Not this shit again. “I know,” you said, “we don’t have to talk about anything. We’re not together anymore. We don’t even need to acknowledge each other’s existence anymore. But tonight, you did, and now we’re on your couch.”

“I don’t—” he started, but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“We don’t have to talk about it then. But, I do have another question. Did you ever fuck anyone here?” The words flowed out before you could think any longer, nothing but courage and alcohol running through your body.

“What?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory, Sebastian. I just want to know if you ever fucked someone in my—our—this place.”

His eyes bore into yours as he spoke, voice sharp and clear. “No, y/n, I have never fucked anyone in this place. No one but you.”

That answer made you happy. This place, your place, was still pure. No random hookups had tramped through the place where you lived.

“Good,” you accidentally said out loud, making him upset.

“Why does it even matter? It’s not like you weren’t fucking those young things you were all over in public.” He started to get angry at the thought. “Who are you to question me about my sex life after you broke up with me then pranced around tabloid covers for months with different people each week?”

“Because this was our house, I just want to know it wasn’t tainted by blonde bitches with names you didn’t even remember in the fucking morning.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you’re the only blonde bitch I’ve fucked.”

Suddenly, your hand was moving and your palm was connecting with his face. It shocked both of you, making you both freeze in place. It took ten seconds before Sebastian grabbed the wrist you hit him with, yanking it so you were closer to him. So close you could feel his breath on your face.

“Slap me again and see what fucking happens, I dare you,” he spit out.

Then your heart was in your ass as your stomach erupted with butterflies and your panties soaked with arousal.

It was almost like you lost all control over your body as you smashed your lips against his. Your hands went to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and tugging at the hair there. The intentional scruff on his face was harsh against your smooth skin, but it only elevated your pleasure. Sebastian’s hands went around the sides of your neck, one kind of cupping your face while the other was closer to the back to pull you closer. You felt like you needed to get closer to him, get as close as possible. You needed every single inch of him over every single part of yourself. Your leg swung, straddling him.

Without thinking, you rutted yourself against his thigh, a guttural moan coming from your lips as you did. It’s not like you hadn’t been touched in a while, you just got fucked a few days ago, but you hadn’t experienced something as hot as this in so long. It was rushed and needed, you felt like you would die if he stopped. Your hips absent-mindedly grinded down against his thigh again.

“Fuck, ride my thigh baby,” he ordered. You listened, slipping into your old ways. You continued to rut against his thigh as you kissed. He knew you were getting close by the moans you were letting out into the kiss. He pulled away from your lips, watching as you were losing yourself. “I want you to cum for me, sugar.”

Your hips slowed as your mind raced a mile a minute. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum from just his thigh. What would that do to his already inflated ego? It sounded like bullshit to give into him.

“No,” you mumbled out, your hips threatening to halt their movement.

“No?” He repeated.

You sat there for a minute, silent as his eyes frantically studied your face to see what the point was. He wondered if you wanted to stop, he would understand completely, but he knew that wasn’t what it was by the way you keep clenching your thighs together. Sebastian smirked as he realized what was really happening. He grabbed your hips and started to push you down on his thigh. The problem was that you wanted to cum, but you didn’t want to cum for him. Too bad he was determined on it.

You moaned loudly as he started to drag your hips. You were inching so close, the fact that you didn’t want to give in to the feeling made it feel like it was only becoming stronger. Your hands grabbed his old t-shirt as you frantically moved your hips back and forth. Your nose scrunched and your eyes shut tight, your mouth letting out a whisper of “oh fuck”s on a loop.

“That’s it,” you heard Sebastian say even though his voice sounded like it was miles away. “Cum like a good girl.”

Suddenly, all the pressure that was building up deep within your tummy snapped and you were on cloud 9. Your heat pulsed as you road out your orgasm, Sebastian's hands helping you immensely. It took a good minute of pants as you caught your breath before you opened your eyes and came back to reality.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you muttered to him when you finally made eye contact again.

“I know,” he smirked. “Now be a good girl, sugar, and take off your pants.”

You questioned arguing with him more, but you decided not to. You wanted him, you wanted him so fucking bad. You stood up and pulled down your shorts, doing a little spin so Sebastian could marvel at how wonderful you looked.

“As beautiful as those look on you, darling, they’d look better on the floor.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you stripped out of the underwear as well, leaving you in nothing but an old grey t-shirt. You went back to your place on Sebastian’s lap, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. You felt like you were melting into him entirely as everything snapped back into place. Your hands roamed lower, palming him through his grey sweats. You smirked to yourself at the realization of how hard he was already and at the fact he wasn’t wearing boxers. He lifted his hips to help you pull down his pants. Just as you were getting ready to place his member in the place you wanted him the most, he halts your movement by grabbing your wrist.

“Shit, I don’t have a condom, y/n,” he warned. You frowned, upset that he had stopped you.

“I don’t care.”

“But you still have that IUD in, right?”

You grimaced because no, you did not. Your five years had run out two months ago and you hadn’t gotten around to making an appointment for a new one. You shook your head slowly side to side before he sighed. He went to pull you off of him but you stopped him by holding onto his shoulders

“I don’t care,” you repeated.

“Y/n, you know why can’t.”

“Why not?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “Besides the fact you could get pregnant?”

“I don’t care,” you said one more time. “I want you.”

He looked into your eyes, trying his best to decipher your intentions.

“Y/n …”

“Get me pregnant, Sebby,” you said, meaning it too. “I want you, I want your kids. Fuck, I want us back. I don’t care if that means kids and a white picket fence. I just want you.”

“Are you sure?”

In response, you slowly leaned down and your lips touched. It was nothing like the kisses you had shared preferably, it was slow and soft. He pulled you closer, finally letting you lower yourself down on him. You both let out loud moans as you sink down on his member.

It was like you had forgotten what making love felt like, probably because you did. In the past nine months since you had split, you hadn’t made love with anyone once. It was all just meaningless sex or hot fucking, but there was no love behind it. You didn’t love Timothee, you hadn’t loved any of your flings. Maybe it was because you never stopped loving Sebastian—you were almost sure it was because of that.

You moved up and down whilst Sebastian thrust up into you. The room was filled with moans, grunts, and praises from both ends. He started to kiss your neck as his thumb started to rub your clit. The multiple amounts of stimulation only brought you closer to your climax.

“I’m gonna, fuck—I’m close.”

“I know, babygirl,” he cooed. “Look at me.” You looked into his blue orbs, feeling your climax inching ever so closer. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whined out as your hips moved faster. “Cum inside me, Sebastian. Get me—fuck, god—put a fucking baby in me.”

With your confirmation, he flipped you on your back, thrusting harder. The hand that wasn’t toying with your clit interlaced with yours. Your grip on each other squeezed harder as you neared your finishes. You wrapped your legs around him as his hips started to stutter.

“Cum with me, baby,” Sebastian groaned.

You finally let the coil that built inside of you snap with his permission. Moments later, he busted inside of you, making you both yell out. He collapsed on top of you, trying his best not to crush you under his weight. You both panted for minutes before you finally spoke up.

“I love you,” you said. He lifted his head, looking into his eyes. “I never stopped.

“Neither did I,” Sebastian said. “Did you mean it, you want to have kids?”

“I want to do anything if it means I can be with you. Anything.”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan smut #marvel smut #marvel men smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #fanfic #tfatws

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kookieskiwi · 4 years ago

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𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing: Shuntaro Chishiya x Fem!Reader x Suguru Niragi

Summary: The borderlands were already dark, they made you numb to death so long as you survived. When you become the object of desire for two psychopathic and sociopathic men, one of which is your ex lover, you find it harder to drown out the emotions you’re feeling and demons you're facing. Do you give into the dark desires and madness? But...aren’t we all already mad here?

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual situations, murder, death, manipulation, psychoanalyses, drugs, alcohol, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, more to be added as I write.

Genre: Alice in Borderland, very dark romance, angst, smut, a little fluff if you squint

Rating: Whoever is mature enough to handle the warnings above but recommended to ages 15 and older. DO NOT read if you are triggered by any of the things listed above.

Word Count: 5k

[Taglist] @bonnyskies @mylifeisafxingmess @kasaikawa @mercipourleslivres @dragoneye01 @bubb1ee-gum@nocturne181 @somegirl29 @pajerita19 @ddaenysus @imagine-t-h-a-ttt @queentorresstuff @rebirth-of-destruction @celestiacq @ryreads @beeissleepy

A note from your author — I’m so sorry this took so long, I just got out for summer vacation after an extremely stressful year so I’ll be way more active now. I have decided (with much hype from @imagine-t-h-a-ttt ) to post this in parts so I could give y’all something in appreciation for dealing with me. Expect more soon!! (It might not be AiB exclusively but I will be writing more)

The borderlands was a place where anyone and everyone was alone for themselves when it came to survival. “It’s every man for themselves,” you’d often tell yourself after a game since you walked away, sometimes alone, and others didn’t. After participating in your first heart’s game you learned that, and it was forever engraved into your mind. When you were cruelly taken from the real world you were alone in your room after your nightly shift as an SDF officer. All of a sudden the lights went out whilst you were changing out of your uniform before a shower which you never got to take. Deciding to investigate the outage, you threw your uniform back on and unbuttoned the jacket revealing your black sleeveless undershirt while keeping your green cargo style uniform pants and combat boots on. After grabbing your knife and placing it into your thigh holster, you explored your neighborhood to find that everyone was gone, cars were randomly in the street as if they had been stopped out of nowhere, and you were in fact alone.

“What the fuck is this?” You whispered to yourself as you were pulling out your phone to contact your friends only to see that it was dead. “Fantastic,” you grumbled, rolling your neck to the side to crack it and relieve the tension. Venturing back to your home you thought over what this could possibly be; an evacuation drill? Maybe a nightmare? Were you daydreaming again? No, this was too real and too strange to be any of those things. You needed to get out of this area, inspect and observe other parts of Tokyo to see what was going on. You thought you could find answers before it turned dark since it was only morning so you rushed home to pack a few things before heading out.

While at home, you grabbed your backpack and in it you put; a change of clothes, three water bottles, pain pills and a few snacks as well as your phone and charger in case you could figure out a way for it to work. In a haste you also threw on your side holster which held your nine millimeter handgun and two packs of ammo for extra precautions. After that, you set out on your search of the city. The first thing you thought of was to get in one of those abandoned vehicles however even though they were full of fuel, they wouldn’t start. “So phones and vehicles don’t work, neither does anything powered by electricity. Great.”

With that newly found information, you stepped out of the vehicle and began the long walk across Tokyo. Along the way you inspected stores, homes and even government buildings but found no trace of anyone but yourself. Where did everyone go? It looked so desolate without the constant buzz of people around walking, the tourists, the neon billboards. Everything was...dead. You spent the entire day walking further into the abandoned city which was once lively yet found nothing other than a restaurant with food which you took the liberty to eat at.

Upon nightfall, you were looking for a place to stay when a billboard lit up drawing your attention to it immediately. “This way to the game arena,” it read with an arrow pointing to the left. Turning your head in that direction you saw an area in the distance brightened by lights while everything else was still surrounded in darkness. “Game arena?” You whispered in confusion. Looking around at your surroundings you didn’t see any other lights other than that building which looked to be about three blocks away. You followed the arrows leading you to the designated arena which looked to be a botanical tea garden from a distance. You slowly approached the building while keeping your hand close to the blade strapped on your thigh in case someone or something appeared. As soon as you stepped across the final set of stairs leading up to the entrance, a line of red lasers appeared and quickly turned blue when a sound similar to that of a confirmation resonated in the area. “What is this?”

“It’s the threshold of the arena.” Turning in the direction of the voice, you saw a familiar face step next to you with the same sound chiming at her entry. “Holyn? How did you get here? Are you okay?” You asked quickly before hugging her out of relife, you were more than happy to see a familiar face in this apocalyptic place. She was your childhood best friend, the only reason you hadn’t seen or heard from her in a while was because of both of your working lives.She hugged you back even tighter as she was feeling the same way you were, scared, alone and confused. When the two of you released each other she began explaining everything she knew to you as the both of you started walking into the garden.

“I got here a few days ago and since then, I’ve asked around to see what others know about whatever the hell is going on. No one knows how we got here or what exactly this place is but everyone is made to participate in games of survival. You must participate or you’ll die. After winning a game, you keep the phone you had and you’ll be supplied with a visa. The visa tells you how long you have until you’re out of time here which is why you have to participate in games to renew it before it runs out. You must win each game, there is no other way to survive if you don’t. Do everything it takes so you live and move on. Anything with an electric circuit board or IC chip does not work whereas analog equipment like radios work and so do older vehicles.” She explained quickly as more people came into view. Your mind fogged with all of the new information, it was so much to take in. Then you realized you were just thrown into a game of survival and like she said; you HAD to win to survive. “But-” you had just begun when she silenced you, “pretend you’ve been here and done this. I know you’re confused and probably scared shitless but just pretend.” She instructed as you both entered the arena and quickly added one thing, “I don’t want to continue playing after this, I killed someone Y/n.” But before you could respond she shook her head and you did as she said, silencing yourself and putting on the facade you had mastered over the years.

Upon entry, you almost immediately noticed the two groups of people to the right each containing about six people and consisting of both males and females and the other group of six men. Gauging their distance to and from each other you could conclude the individuals in each group had played together previously and probably had strategies to compete with. As you and Holyn approached the area the others stood around, you glanced down to the table in front of all of you. ‘One per person’ the sign read with approximately twenty phones laid out beside it. Each of you grabbed a random phone and stepped away from the table into your own spaces, you and Holyn sticking closely together. If everything with a circuit board was destroyed, then why did these phones work? In the middle of your questioning the phone screen lit up with the text ‘facial recognition in progress’ before switching to another screen as you looked at the others subtly to see they were looking around as well.

“Registration has closed,” the phone chimed causing each of you to glance down at the small screen. “There are twenty participants. Game: Queen of cards.”

“Rules,” the automated voice said, “After putting on the designated collars you will be divided into two teams, one team will be the Jacks while the other is the Queen of Hearts. Find the Queen of Hearts, take her phone and find the safe zone. If the Queen is not found, it is game over for the Jacks. If the Queen is found, it is game over for her.”

“Does this mean it’s one girl against the rest of us?” Holyn asked with a small crack in her voice, making hit her as a sign to be quiet and do exactly what she told you to do. The two of you grabbed the collars they had laid out on the table, placing them on your neck after close inspection. You needed to seem like you had done this before, the last thing you needed was to be seen as the weaklings or newbies. “It’s a Hearts game, of course that’s what it means. We are supposed to turn on each other and play with others minds. It makes sense.” A male with his arms crossed over his chest said. He had played before, you could tell. The group of men he came with looked like they had been here for a while based on their appearance and calmness towards the situation.

“What do you mean ‘It’s a heart's game’?” A girl who looked to be about seventeen asked. It was obvious she was new to this like you, however, you weren’t letting anyone know that. “When you see the game card, you know the type of game and the difficulty of it. Heart games are those of psychological torture and betrayal where you mess with your opponents or friends minds and emotions. Diamond games are ones of minds and intelligence, often including solving riddles or puzzles. Clubs are by far the safest there is given they are teamwork and unity games. Spade games are physical, they test your stamina and endurance. The number of the cards tell you the difficulty levels; one being the easiest and ten being the hardest.” Another man explained to the girls. You listened attentively while looking down at your phone noticing this was a six of hearts game. Hearts. There had to be a way to do this without betrayal. But before you could think of anything further you were interrupted by the phone which spoke once more.

“The Queen will have one minute to hide before Jack's time starts, but she wont know she is the Queen until Jack's time begins.” The feminine AI voice instructed once more. The girls were to be hunted by the boys and even if they weren’t the Queen the males wouldn’t know. Even if it was a best friend. You noticed when the others came to the same realization as you as one guy started profusely apologizing to a girl who was shaking. This is a game of survival. “So that means-”

“You girls better run.” It came from one of the men and said with a sinister smirk. All the guys had to do to ensure survival was take our phones and get to the undisclosed safezone. However this was more than that. You saw the weapons on a board in the distance and you knew you weren’t the only one who did. Without a second thought, you grabbed Holyn’s hand and ran as fast as you could to get the farthest from any other person, vividly aware of the knife you still had on your thigh. She quickly followed behind although she didn’t have much of a choice with your iron-like grip on her wrist. After running a sufficient distance from the others you ducked into the shrubbery and crawled towards a dark corner to hide from anyone’s sight. She sat across from you as you both tried to calm your breathing while keeping yourselves hidden from anyone who might pass by. The phone chimed again, “Hiding time is up,” the voice said while a new timer appeared on your phone. “Ten minutes,” it read. An alarm sounded throughout the arena echoing off the walls of the indoor tea garden. “The game will now commence,” you heard just before seeing your screen turn balck temporarily with your role on it.

“Thank goodness, I’m a Jack. You are too right?” Holyn asked as you turned off your phone and looked at her with a smile as her voice echoed in your mind, “you must win each game, there’s no other way to survive,” so you pushed away the dread in your chest and replied “me too.”

No. You were the Queen.

The two of you sat still for about five minutes listening to the shouts and screams of the others until you heard sets of footsteps coming in your direction causing the two of you to duck down onto your stomachs out of fear. In the distance you heard a feminine scream echo off the glass walls followed by shattering sounds and more screams of “I’m not her” or “It’s not me” followed by the sounds of struggles. “Come out come out wherever you are,” one of the men closer to you called. You could tell he was near and if you two didn’t move, he'd find you.”We found the safe zone but none of the girls were queens,” you heard one say, “damnit, if they were still alive they could help us,’ the other commented making your stomach drop. “We need to run,” who whispered to Holyn knowing those men would have no issue killing you to survive. “Three minutes remaining,” the time was announced but you could hardly hear it due to your pulse thudding in your ears.

“Now,” you called quietly queuing the both of you to jump up and run, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the men. “There they are!” One shouted followed by the heavy stomps of footsteps behind you as they set in on the chase. “It’s only the two of you, just give us the phone and you’ll live.” You ignored him and kept sprinting towards the place you knew there were weapons. Without another thought you grabbed two weapons and handed one to Holyn to defend yourselves with until she came to the realization you loathed. “You’ve been the queen this entire time!?” She shouted at you as the stomping sound got closer and closer. “I’m sorry! You said to do anything it takes to survive.” You responded with tears clouding your vision. Never in your life would you have thought you’d be choosing your life over your best friend’s, not when the two of you had gone through everything together. “Two minutes remaining,” the voice announced reminding you of your impending fate. Holyn looked at you with emotions you couldn’t decipher, but you saw the way she relaxed even if it was slight. Why was she glad you chose yourself over her?

“Come on, let’s hide.” She said grabbing your hand and this time, she was the one dragging you along. She veered off to the right pulling you behind a fountain and kept running until the two of you collapsed onto the ground. “Remember when you turned fifteen and we decided to sneak out?” she reminisced laying between your legs against your chest. “Yeah, our parents almost killed us, we were grounded for months.” you giggled despite the tears falling from your eyes. As memories of you both flooded your mind you acted without control and shouted, “Over he--” to let the men know your location but you were interrupted by her hand clasping over your mouth tightly to silence you as she yanked you backwards into the shadows. “Shh,” she whispered, calming you while you sobbed into her hand, “I want you to live on for me, okay? Beat this game, we both know you are the only one who can. I know you can. I’ll be helping you from above if I can.” She soothed laying her head on top of yours.

“One minute remaining”

The tears wouldn’t stop as you moved to hug her tightly, never wanting to let go. “I’m so sorry.” you choked out in between gasps for air. Everything was too much, too loud, time was moving too quickly, you heard the men rapidly shouting and searching for you two as you clung to your best friend. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, the seconds flew by while you were holding the only person you had left before she was to die. “I’m not. Thank you Y/n, I wouldn’t have made it any further anyways, I’m glad I can help you move forward. Don’t let me die in vain.” She told you kissing the top of your head before roughly pushing you off to get you away from her. “Holyn!” You shouted trying to latch back onto her when suddenly the collar around her neck exploded and her blood splattered everywhere. Your eyes and mouth opened wide in shock at what you had just seen. You could feel the specks of blood all over your face and body while you stared at her now decapitated one lying in front of you. She had just died, and it was because of you, because you were selfish and confused all while being scared.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there in total silence until you just collapsed onto the cold, hard floor beneath your feet. The silence was interrupted by your blood curdling scream of pure agony that echoed throughout the enclosed building. Your head came into contact with the ground when you curled over your knees and screamed once again while grabbing at your hair and banging your forehead against the cement. Tears flowed out of both your eyes as you cried out in horror, unable to rid your mind of the events that just occurred. You screamed until your throat was raw and your voice hoarse, you could feel the clumps of hair you pulled out of your scalp as your fingers dug deeper into your skull and worst of all, you knew you were alone now.

For days, you were numb. Five days to be exact. You didn’t do much but sleep, cry, eat, walk aimlessly to a new location and then repeat it all again the next day. You couldn’t shake the immense feeling of guilt you felt when you woke each morning knowing Holyn wouldn’t because of you. It wasn’t until you played your next game, an eight of spades, that you snapped out of the haze your emotions put you in. During the game, you had to climb a tree fast enough to avoid the arrows being shot at you from below as the height the arrows were shot increased each minute as you ascended the tree. You were ahead of the others until one man decided to start pulling at your ankles to hold you back which eventually turned into him trying to make you lose your grip and fall. In the moment he yanked your body down, you almost completely lost your grip on the branch keeping you from falling. It was then that you realized you weren’t going to let Holyn die in vain, you’d survive and push through everything to honor her memory.

After that, the “acquaintances” you made between or during games never meant much to you because in the end, you could only count on and rely on yourself to ensure your survival. You stopped moping around and became the version of yourself you had always wanted to become, the one that allowed you to turn off your emotions and step away from your chaotic thoughts. You now lived for yourself and yourself only, but even then, you never killed anyone intentionally.

A few days passed by but you couldn’t tell exactly how long you had been in this hell hole. You only played games when it was necessary which was only about two days before your visa expired. After overhearing someone in a two of Spades game talk about a place called “the Beach” and the people there “knowing how to get out here,” you started observing those who played games when you didn’t. It only took a few nights to see the connection between the group of people who entered games with tag numbers on their wrists being the ones who walked out. After you played a couple games with people with the tags on their wrists, you were convinced they knew something about the strategy of the games. Lingering in the shadows, you watched the participants of the game walk out of the arena and head down the street while you quietly followed behind. You must’ve walked for five minutes before you noticed where exactly the group was headed; a vehicle. “But I thought..” you whispered to yourself in confusion seeing them jump into the four seater 1970 cadillac while you stood still in your hidden position wondering what they were doing. Upon hearing the ignition of the engine you remembered Holyn telling you only older modeled vehicles were able to work here, but where did they find fuel? Not once had you seen an operable fuel station. “There must be fuel at the beach, there has to be,” you thought to yourself, watching as they drove off which only made you more determined to find this place and get the answers to your questions. And with that thought in mind, you set out on a journey to find this so-called “beach.”

As the vehicle drove further from your sight, you started jogging in order to tail them to their location while still keeping yourself out of sight. You ran for around fifteen minutes before you saw a building in the distance, a building which had power unlike everything else in the city. Seeing the destination, you stopped running and took a while to slow your breathing and regain your energy. “So this is the Beach,” you sighed observing the structure and its surroundings. The building itself seemed to be four stories tall and included a large pool in front where people partied as if they weren’t fighting for their lives everyday. You approached a fence which seemed to outline the perimeter of the area and carefully leaned over it as if you were watching a child’s game. You saw the vast amounts of people give into the pleasures of ignorance while deafening music thrummed in the background, even from the great distance you were, you could slightly feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest.

“Ah who's this?” you heard a cynical voice ask rhetorically from behind you. At the sudden and unexpected presence you jumped, turning around and swinging your fist to punch whoever it was out of instinct. When your right hand came in contact with a face your left twisted to grab the knife you still carried on your thigh in a holster. Just as you grasped ahold of the handle one of the two people delivered a knockout-blow to the side of your head just behind your temple which caused you to instantly lose consciousness.

When you awoke you were sitting in a chair with your hands tied loosely behind your back onto the chair with what felt like a burlap bag over your head. You let out a small groan of discomfort feeling your head pulse due to your new injury, one you would have to repay later on. Upon hearing your groan, the bag was swiftly removed from your head allowing the bright lights of the room to flood your vision which hadn’t adjusted making you shut your eyes with a silent wince. After blinking a few times you get adjusted, you were finally able to scan your surroundings. In front of you stood a man with shoulder-length hair, blsck sunglasses, an open kimono and red swim trunks, to his left stood a man with buzzed hair, a black muscle shirt and green military pants who you instantly recognized.

“Aguni?” You asked with confusion seeing the man you used to work with. He was here too? You weren’t surprised he was still alive, the man was invincible when you worked with him. And just like back then, he was silent, he only gave a small nod of his head to you as a response before reassuming his statue-like stance. To his right was a man with silver hair, a white Nike hoodie and blue swim shorts who looked at you in an inquisitive manner with tired yet sharp eyes. Two women who had black hair were standing to his right and a man covered in tattoos stood further off to the side holding a sword long in length, possibly a katana. A few other people were staggered around the room but none of them seemed to be as ‘important’ as the few that you noticed immediately.

“Aguni-san? You know her?” The man in the kimono asked the latter with creased brows showing obvious confusion. “We worked at the SDF together. She was my partner before we were assigned to different segments, she’d be a good addition to the executives or militants.” He responded while putting in a good word for you. “Someone like her? An SDF officer? If you hadn’t told me, Aguni-san, I would have never known.” The man remarked crossing his arms over his chest while walking over to a desk which he leaned on. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned with a scowl in his direction as your fingers fiddled with the ropes binding your wrists. You would be able to get out of them in a matter of minutes if no one noticed what you were trying to do, but it seemed the man in the white hoodie already noticed as he raised his brow in your direction with an impressed smirk on his stoic face. “A pretty, small woman like yourself...I would’ve thought you’d be tagging along with someone and not alone. Actually I would’ve thought you’d be dead by now, much less an SDF officer.” He commented with a wry smile fanning out all your cards which contradicted his statement.

“If my cards tell you anything, you should know you’re wrong,” you hummed, resuming your attempt to loosen the ropes. “Ah yes your cards,” he began while pushing himself off the desk and slowly pacing around the room, “we want you to become a resident at the Beach after seeing the cards you’ve gathered. And after learning of your pastime, you would be a great addition to the team either way.” Of course he would want you once he saw the games you had played, you were good at surviving meaning you’d also be efficient in getting him the rest of the cards. “And if I don’t want to become a resident?” You questioned poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue out of habit. You were doing just fine on your own and definitely did not need this place, however, it seemed like they needed you. Or they needed your cards more so than yourself.

“Well if you choose to stay, you’ll be able to get out of this game quicker. We have a theory that once we collect all the playing cards, one person will be able to go back to the normal world. And if you choose not to stay, well, you can walk away from here but we will keep your cards. We have gathered all the weapons in the city, we regularly gather rain water and food which the game makers seem to replenish once a week, you’ll be taken care of here.” He explained pausing directly in front of you waiting for a response. Did no one else see the problem with him? How he was manipulating everyone to get the cards under the false security that they’d get to leave too? Or was everyone here really THAT ignorant? “It seems like you take my cards either way hm?” You suggested in a hum cocking your head to the right slightly in question. “You’re correct. However, now you would be higher in the rankings and an executive after making such a great contribution and having the skill set you supposedly possess.” He told you in an attempt to persuade you into staying while adding a bit of sweetness to the word ‘contribution’. When you simply looked at him with a bored gaze, he sighed and continued speaking.

“If you decide to stay there are only three rules. 1) "always wear a bathing suit". This is to be sure no one is hiding any weapons which is why our militants don’t have to wear them if chosen to do so. Rule 2) "be free to live your life exactly as you wish including alcohol, drugs and sex" and the third and last rule: "death to traitors".” He enlightened you on the standards they lived by to help you make your decision. It didn’t seem like it would be a bad choice if you chose to stay here, you’d have food, shelter, and people you didn’t know in case you had to play another game of hearts.

“I’ll stay but I want my knife back, if I have to wear a bathing suit you’ll be able to see it anytime since I wear it on my thigh.” You compromised whilst completely freeing your hands from their bound position but still holding the rope to hide suspicions. You hated the fact you’d have to wear a swimsuit because your scars would be visible but if it meant you could have your knife, you’d be more than willing. Hearing a few chuckles resonate around the room at your demand you brought your attention to one of the men in the back of the room who had a bandage on his cheek and a black eye. It was easy to come to the conclusion that he was the one you punched earlier, and the thought of that made you smile with pride while looking at him.

“You are in no position to make demands, sweetheart,” he practically snarled at you. You hated being called sweetheart, it not only made you cringe but it infuriated you beyond measure. With a deadly glare, you let go of the rope and stood from the chair in a swift motion and threw the ropes at him without a word which said everything you needed to. However, just as he caught the ropes you could hear the door being slammed open followed by a voice which was all too familiar.

“The traitors are dead,” the unknown man announced in a tone of pride, kicking the door closed behind him. His voice instantly brought back memory after memory causing you to turn your head in shock in order to make sure you were hearing things correctly. The man you were looking at looked nothing like the one you once knew. This one had piercings on his nose and eyebrow while he sported an automatic rifle on his shoulder and a psychotic smile on his face. “Niragi?” You whispered in shock, still unable to believe your eyes. Was this the same boy you stood up for in high school? He looked so....different. What exactly happened to the sweet, shy boy you once fell in love with? “Y/N?” He questioned letting his mouth fall open the slightest but before he regained his composure. It was him, Suguru Niragi, the first and only man you’ve ever truly fallen in love with, but also the man who disappeared without a trace three years ago. You knew he had left you, it wasn’t hard to figure that much out, but you never knew why and quite frankly, you didn’t care anymore. You had moved on.

“Fantastic! Another one of our own knows this charming young woman, this will make things a lot easier. Niragi, you may take her to the locker rooms so she can change into some fitting attire then you can get her an ID bracelet and take her to her room.” The man who you noticed had a bracelet tagged 001, exclaimed with a clap of his hands as he was instructing Niragi to get you settled in. “She can do it on her own,” Niragi scoffed with a roll of his eyes which had you throwing your head back in a sarcastic chuckle. “I’ll take her,” someone insisted from the side. Glancing in the direction the voice resounded you noticed the short pale man with the silver hair stepping out towards you. He seemed oddly familiar as well but you couldn’t quite place it.

“That’s settled then. Now, my knife?” You quipped raising a brow at the ‘leader’ in the kimono just before someone came from behind you pressing a cold piece of metal to your throat while their other arm was holding your arms in place by your waist. The room went silent as everyone watched what was about to unfold in front of them, Aguni simply rolled his eyes with a sigh knowing what was about to happen. “You mean this knife?” The man teased, his voice was one you recognized from one of the two men that brought you to this place and all you wanted in that moment was to stab him for that. So, naturally, you settled for the next best thing. Pushing your head forward a little while trying not to move your neck, you watched Niragi’s expression as you threw your head backwards with all your force resulting in hitting the unknown man’s nose.

When the back of your skull came into contact with his face he immediately lessened his grip on you which allowed you to slip out of his grasp and take your knife from his hand. With your knife in hand, you grabbed his wrist, twisting it and bending his arm behind his back while your other arm placed him in a chokehold. You leaned in close to his ear as he was fighting your hold before pulling him back harshly, putting pressure on his windpipe, “Never, and I mean NEVER, touch my knife again. Got it?” You growled and if you were being honest, you would’ve intimidated yourself. You didn’t wait for a response as you pushed him forward only to watch him fall onto the ground with a soft thud. “Now,” you sighed looking up with a smile which could’ve been seen as both innocent or sinister, “let’s go,” you said slipping your knife into the holster on your thigh. The man with the white hair stepped forward with his hands in his pockets and came to your side, briefly looking at Niragi before turning his attention to you. “Let’s go, shall we?”

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