#like what the fuck is a hollow purple that sounds cool can i hit it with my bat

[trlblzd]

i actually wanna have stelle interact w jjk people like

[akilikesbread]

quotes from watching trigun stampede with my friends so SPOILERS:

“Bro he even falls zestily” (in reference to wolfwood)

“oh cool flashback” “more like a VASHBACK am i right? ZINGER” “kys.”

“my lawyers have advised me to not discuss what i would do to his stupid fluffy blonde hair”

WW: “the big man upstairs made me strong” “The big man upstairs made me like people with wires and mandibles.”

*vashs arm gets sucked into a blackhole* “bro wtf, hollow purple”

“boy why you so 🪴”

“motherfucker so gay the cigarette bends the second it touches his mouth”

“this is just a documentary of california”

*BadLads gang shows up* “BL? Boys love? They kiss men?”

*Livio standing menacingly* “SANS???”

*in reference to eye of Michael* “Why’s their logo literally new mexico”

*Legato appearance* “blue hair AND PRONOUNS??” “whats with daman mills and voicing gay men”

*Woowoo getting tortured* “theyre injecting 🏳️‍🌈 into his bloodstream”

*First wolfwood appearance* “He better hit people with that fucking cross”

“he looks hot when hes troubled”

*In reference to Rosa* “If pregnant lady dies i’m leaving the call

“OH MY GOD HES REDPILLED.” “Vashed and redpilled”

“Tricum stampede”

*we were watching on an illegal site so it kept opening new tabs* “AHHHH PORN”

*wolfwood gets fucking bent in half by legato* “Bro where can i get a massage like that”

“Roberto looks like. hold on.” The image sent:

“if the animation was a person i’d make out with them sloppy style. with tongue.”

*in Rollo’s old town with the biblical radio shit* “Guys this sounds just like something my bus driver would say”

*zazie turns into a swarm* “would you still love me if i was a worm :(“

“vash’s mom is pretty” “i’m gonna stop you right there.”

*vash.* “LOOK AT HIS SLUTTY WAIST”

“yeah nai just really liked taking out arms this episode”

*knives playing the piano in the distance* “IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER😨😨😨”

EG Bomber: “MASTER KNIVES😈” my friend in the zestiest voice ever: “master😳”

Vash: *reloading* “THATS SO FUCKING HOOOOTTT” “i wish i was that gun.”

*wolfwood gets fucking run over* “i think hes my new favorite character”

*vash getting chased by the residents of jenora rock* “california has never looked livelier”

“Call me Millions Knives.” “edgy ass emo name, he sounds like hes a 13 year old emo who listens to panic at the disco and cries himself to sleep at night.”

“is this prophetic stress dream bothering you queen”

“i wish Californian sand looked as good here, dont eat the californian sand, its chunky”

*conrad appears* “LUIGI???”

“so this is julai…” “its still may dude, idk how to tell you this”

*Julai screenpan.* “THIS IS JUST VEGAS.”

*wolfwood and vash running away* “me when i skeddadle”

*vash gets shot and walks away* “bros like ‘damn i just got shot :(‘“

“Nicholas the Punisher.” “he can punish me if he wants I MEAN WHAAAAAT”

*That Roberto Scene™️* “*through tears* SO HOW ARE YOU GUYS ENJOYING THE SHOW?”

*Knives dramatically playing piano* “You and that fuckin church organ.”

“5gum stampede”

“Why is nai so jacked???” “theyre both built like brick shithouses”

*Meryl points a gun at conrad* “KILL YOURSELF OLD MAN.”

“WHYS NAI CLENCHING HIS ASS SO HARD…”

“Vash wake up!!” “THIS ISNT LIKE YOU POOKIE”

*Wolfwood steals one last cigarette from Roberto* “Rare cigarette that wasnt fucked up”

“WHO CUT THEIR HAIR.” “Xinqiu.” “Yelan ass haircuts.”

*talking about vash* “hes such a shonen protag. Food friendship and (avoiding) fighting”

“Knives, ur literally gay. i dont wanna hear it.”

“The entrance to the higher plane!” “it looks like a butthole.”

*Knives fucking just floating into the higher dimension* “*cackling*” “WHY HE SLIDE LIKE THAAAT” ���stone scraping sound effect”

“Vash shouldve been called damian”

“Prepare mentally for episode twelve, take a deep breath, take a sip of water-“ “KISS A MAN” “DONT KISS A MAN” “KISS A MAN!!!”

*start of episode twelve.* “surely this wont be horrifying”

“I promise to protect you both.” “well you really sucked at that, huh.” “yeah fuck you rem” “HELP???”

*looks at Nai* “Whys he wearing a speedo…”

*Red geranium sprouts in tint Vash’s hand* “NAI LOOK DO YOU WANNA SEE A MAGIC TWICK”

*Running through field of red geraniums* “this reminds me of the angry birds logo”

“metal wing?” “its made of knives, yk, like his name :D” “shut up.” “alright then.”

*chanting* “CUBE!!!!”

“HES GONNA STAMPEDE!!!”

“kiss my vash!!”

[chiwhorei]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝)

𝐚𝐤𝐚: 𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐑𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬!!

pairing: t. amajiki x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

word count: ~1.3k

tags: pervy!tamaki, mean!tamaki, dubcon, degradation, voyeurism, masturbation, tentacles in all of readers holes, dacryphilia, choking

a/n: this is my very late contribution to the whorehouse porn compilation, the rest of this questionable browser history can be found here! strap in because this might be the grossest shit i’ve written so far. no plot, porn is the point here friends.

(cross posted to Ao3!)

hymn: gooey by the glass animals

The first time was an accident, genuinely.

He meant to text you he would be home early, ever the courteous roommate, but it truly just slipped his mind. Surprise would be an understatement when he swings the front door open to the high pitched whines coming from your bedroom.

Curiosity piquing, Tamaki lines his shoes up by the door and follows the noise. He can see the outline of light seeping through your open door and hears another round of cries. 

“Hey, are you ok--” His words flop lifelessly on the floor in front of him. Oh.

Oh.

His eyes trail up from the end of your bed. The open laptop propped in between your legs, the bottle of lube sitting next to your knee, your bare thighs and--

“Do you like what you see, Suneater?”

Tamaki flushes, heat starting at the bridge of his nose and spreading across every inch of skin. He should really say something, or better yet, close your fucking door and do the rest of his processing on the other side. 

He can’t seem to do anything but stand and stare at the dripping wet toy still being pumping in and out of your cunt. It seems to have completely hypnotized him, watching the way the silicone disappears in between your slick folds, he swears he can see the quiver.

“What do you think about my toy?” Purple and oblong, you pull it all the way out. Tamaki’s stare burns right into the suction cup ridges and slim, curved tip. You drag it in a wet line up your skin, meeting your lips with a pout. 

“I picked this one out with you in mind.”

* * *

First time, shame on you.

That’s what they say, but Tamaki finds himself pressing against your doorframe and peering into your room for the 3rd time this week. His feet pull him here like a nasty habit, the crack in your door is far too welcoming. 

You left it open just for him.

Tamaki’s ears twitch, forehead tacky with sweat as he presses against the frame. Every time he finds himself in this very same position, shame trickles down his spine like poison.

Every inch of your skin is exposed to his stare. Looking upon you is invasive and slimy and wrong but fuck, with every movement of your toy, pumping in tandem with the hand around his painfully hard cock, the more each stolen glance feels intravenous. Tamaki is addicted. 

All he wants to do is touch you. Wrap you in his hold and explore every inch. He wants to know what your skin feels like. 

What does your hair smell like up close? He’s only ever been privy to the occasional carryover of strawberry as you walk by him in the kitchen. How do your moans feel vibrating just above his mouth? Would you cry out for him to stop or to keep going?

He’s never stepped closer than the line between carpet and hardwood, but that's really only a technicality. 

You feel it, foreign but unmistakable. The touch of something crawling up your leg, soft and sticky. It wraps around your leg, crawling upwards in salacious vines. Your voice rings in Tamaki’s ears. He repeats every syllable like prayer, his invitation.

“I picked this one out with you in mind.”

There’s no movement to stop him, you don’t scream or tell him to fuck off. Your body seems to welcome him, back arching as five quirked fingers wrap around your arms and hips. The popping of suction cups trail from your belly button, dragging against your breasts before you feel pressure at your neck. Your skin will be covered in round bruises in the morning. The kindling in Tamaki’s stomach feels more like a wildfire, shy demeanor melting away. The man in front of you isn’t going to waste any more time hesitating.  

“You’re such a little tease. You like fucking with me don’t you, princess?” Tamaki’s question is sneering, his tone cold and unfamiliar.

The tentacle wrapping around your neck squeezes tight enough to make you gasp, he doesn’t waste the opportunity.

He doesn’t really want you to answer him.

As soon as your lips part, your mouth is invaded. The tendril reaches all the way to the back of your throat before it lets up, your jaw already hurting at the stretch. Your vision blurs, the taste of briny-sweet flesh mixes with the salty tears running down your face.

You’re given only a moment to sputter, catching your breath before it’s taken away again, the squeals and cries bubbling in your throat are wasted energy.

“Always leaving your door open, teasing me. I’m not playing your games anymore.” Tamaki’s voice is unwavering, he’s serious.

You wail around the rubbery texture as another tentacle wraps around your breasts, suctioning on the sensitive peaks of your nipples. Tamaki moves closer with each sound he can pull from you, finally breaching the last shreds of privacy and shuffling across the carpet. All five fingers on his right hand are busy probing parts of your pliant body and restraining others. Through the haze you can’t deny how dexterous he is while making a mess of you. 

It would be impressive if you could think straight.

Each arm and leg is caught in the reddish-purple web, writhing against his hold only makes Tamaki’s grip tighter.

“I could do anything to this sweet little body, what could you do to stop me?” His words should scare you, but only one thing runs through your foggy head. 

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

If you could, the scream pressed against your makeshift gag would definitely alert your neighbors to the depravity just a wall away. You feel attention turning to the toy still plugging your weeping hole, a tentacle wrapping around the base and pulling it free with a squelch. From the corner of your eye, you catch the shiny plastic as it’s thrown to the other side of the room, hitting your wall with a hollow thud.

The tip of one tentacle prods at your clit for good measure before poking inside. Fear runs through your blood, cooling when mixed with overwhelming pleasure. Tamaki can reach places you’ve never felt before.

“So tight, so fucking warm.” Tamaki can feel you with each clench of your pussy, sliding in until he can feel tight band of your cervix. He could ruin you if he wanted, he ventures to guess you would let him.

You’re crying in long, fat streaks around the apples of your cheeks. With the help of another set of weaponized fingers, your legs are spread further and pushed to your chest. Tamaki’s cock aches, now ignored in favor of manipulating your body into a new angle so your ass is propped up. Muscles tense as he swipes the tip of his tentacle to trace around your rigid ring of muscle.

“I’ll take every one of these slutty little holes. You’ll feel me on your skin for days.” He promises you, pushing past your resistant muscles, they’re no match.

Your head is swimming now, logic is replaced with the feeling of being so full.

Stimulation assaults your senses from every direction, Tamaki fucking into your body with fatal rhythm. Going farther, deeper, harder. All you’re left with is shaking limbs and muted whines.

It hurts, it feels so good. It’s so disgusting but so hot. You’re meek, bushy roommate has made you little more than a fucktoy with what seems like minimal effort. You’re hurdled to a sloppy wet orgasm faster than ever before. 

Tamaki can tell that you’re close, studying the way your eyes screw up and brows furrow before falling over the edge for weeks from the comfort of your door jam. The consuming bliss overtakes your body, every muscle tensing, shaking from exhaustion as the cord pulls tight and snaps with fury. If you could, you would scream out the name of your captor, all you can manage a garbled sound from deep in your chest.

The next few moments find you in pieces. The feeling of emptiness knocks at your hypersensitive body as you’re flipped to balance weakly on your hands in knees. You’re not left alone for long, Tamaki’s just getting started.

He’s never been one to play with his food, but you’re just too tasty.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes ending author's notes

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Chapter 8/?: Grasping

Sasuke awakens abruptly, nausea clawing its way out of his throat like a soup of sepsis that’s been left percolating on a stovetop for too long, finally boiling over and soiling everything.

Stomach churning, he tries to aim it at the floor - he’s gotten better at doing that, over the years - but he doesn’t quite succeed. Hot bile, acidic with mostly digested dinner, coats the side of his bedding and part of his sleeve.

He coughs, gagging on acid and torment and hyperventilation. Then his stomach lurches again, and he turns to retch another round at the floor. Part of it floods his nostrils, stinging, and he rasps more.

That triggers another round, after which he waits a minute, sharp coughs punctuating the stillness, familiar at this point with what his stomach’s settling feels like. He shrugs off his shirt once it does, and makes his way to the kitchen, hacking on a foul aftertaste and vomit-inducing visuals flashing before his eyes.

A glance at the clock tells him it’s half past midnight as he gulps water, snorting in a manner very undignified to clear out his nasal passages and soothe the putrid taste overwhelming his insides. Then he chokes more of it down, feeling the beginnings of a pounding headache.

There are times when having a near photographic memory is not a good thing. He is very tired of recalling crackling electricity, of stumbling over body after body with lifeless eyes. Men, women, children, all with charcoal irises like his.

And teammates, with irises decidedly not like his, luster flattened to single dull colors.

And himself, at the end, deranged and dispiteous, standing where Itachi had stood a long time ago, looming over remains as if he himself is the final obstacle to defeat before it just ends, the culminating villain in some fucked up fable. All at once, he’s a child again, gagging on a demented form of truth, left to stew there for years and years and years, rotting him from the inside out.

He's noxious. He knows he is. He wishes he could spit himself out along with partially digested yakitori.

Sasuke takes another sip of water as his vision blurs, trying desperately to focus on the wood grain of the cabinets and not daring to close his eyes, lest another flash snake its way into his ocularity and undo the mild soothing the water is providing. He coughs again, throat raw. Then his mouth starts watering, a telltale sign that he’s going to throw up again, so he walks carefully to the bathroom, bottle in hand and trying not to jostle his stomach more than is necessary. Switching on the light and flipping up the seat of the toilet, he makes it just in time.

This round it’s mostly just water, and it burns a little less. The murky brown color he’s faced with seems very reflective of what he feels inside, ignominy and wretchedness and self-loathing, no substance at all, just a bitter aftertaste of that which was left behind on a wood floor a lifetime ago. There had been saliva then, too, seeping from his mouth to the floor in his cowardice.

He swallows once, a gargantuan effort. Then he takes another sip of water, studying the text on the label to try to distract himself, vile and unsettled as he is.

He doesn’t deserve Sakura, not after what he’s done. When his vision starts to blur again, he can’t read anymore anyway, so he looks at the mangled mess left of his left arm instead.

He deserves that, a maiming to fit the crime. He wishes he were a better man.

Slowly so as not to further disturb his stomach, he lies down sideways, pressing his cheek to the coolness of the floor. He feels disconnected from everything, at a loss for proper coherent thought, a mess of misery sprawled on a tile too clean for his own rancidness.

Nothing matters for a long time. He just stares into nothingness, a mild burning in his throat and eyes on a void of pure white that he doesn’t belong in, thinking about how it matches the skin tone of bodies that have been drained of all their color. It’s like he’s barely there, nothing seeming real except the hollow feeling in his chest and the buzzing sensation tempering the edge of his consciousness, like his brain has been stuffed with cotton but parts of it are burning away to nothing. Everything of substance singes away in a controlled burn, destined to always have gaping holes of meaning scorched away at random wherever the fire takes hold.

He doesn't know if there ever even was anything in the first place, deep down. Maybe corrosion is a terrible metaphor, because what's left, at the end of it? Layers and layers of useless shale and sandstone and limestone, packed atop Precambrian filth that’s been decaying there for what feels like centuries. Or magma, set to burn anything he touches.

Or electrocute it.

XXX

Suddenly it’s hours later, and a bird is chirping outside, twitters resounding through a metaphysical tunnel of distortion. Gradually it shifts into an audio that doesn’t sound quite as echoed, accentuated by light filtering in through the miniscule bathroom window.

This happens, sometimes, the nightmares and the absconding into abeyance where his brain seems to shut off, a resulting loss of significant chunks of time. Not sleeping, just staring at something dully for a while, stuck on the same cycle of repeating thought. The memorial stone is a trigger for it, he thinks. It’s why he dreaded going there, upon his return, although it's complicated. Occasionally, visiting it seems to bring feelings that are almost positive, where it feels like he’s reaching out to reclaim tiny shattered shards of what used to be his heart. Mostly, though, it’s just mourning. The reading of names may be what compels the worst of them; sometimes he thinks if he looks too long, he’ll learn things he doesn’t want to know.

Exhausted, he drags himself to his feet and begins wryly picking up the pieces, chest hurting from heaving. He throws his bedding and his shirt haphazardly into the washing machine, drowning them in soap before he grabs cleaner to do the same to his floors.

It smells disgusting, like it’s been petrifying in his stomach for years. He supposes that makes sense; a lot of things have.

Once the surface is clean, he gets in the shower, not caring that all of the hot water is being used for the laundry; the icy cold helps wake him up. He’s fatigued, lethargic, but he knows better than to try to go back to sleep at this point.

As he fights shivers in the towel afterwards, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looks awful. Pale and sickly, repulsive, purple sallow staining his skin the same color as the Rinnegan. His normal eye is bloodshot, vacant charcoal that pollutes everything it touches. He lets the black of his hair shift over his Rinnegan eye in a manner he's well accustomed to by now.

His remaining eye inches to the corner of the mirror, the front of the medicine cabinet.

He carefully procures a cough drop, and then makes sencha tea, hoping the caffeine will dull his headache. There’s a part of him that still feels like he’s hardly there, like he’s a ghost just going through the motions. When he takes a sip, it feels good on the throat, but the vomiting earlier has partially singed away the surface of his tongue; he hardly tastes it.

Sasuke then takes the photo from when they were Genin to the living room, grasping onto it for dear life in more ways than one. He alternates between studying it and gazing out the glass, to the cherry blossom tree across the street.

An hour passes, slowly, sitting there thinking about what he does and doesn’t deserve, a mess of thoughts swirling down the drain of his mind. Then another. The luminescence of the day begins trickling in more, green buds across the street gaining back their pigment.

He’s not sure if he should even go to Sakura’s still, because he feels like he’s going to make even worse company today than he usually does, as tired as he is. But he’s weak, and he selfishly wants her; there’s an equanimity only she can provide, the swingback of a pendulum briefly through a sense of normalcy, and he needs the chance to look into jade eyes, to see the light hit them, to ascertain that the chatoyancy has not been dulled. And she’s not dead, despite his inner psyche screaming at him that she would be, had Naruto or Kakashi arrived just a second later. He needs to thank them for that, when he gets the chance, though the timing has never felt right to bring it up.

And he loves her. He's not sure if his love is worth anything, contemptible as he is, but it’s the main reason he can make sense out of the absolute mess that is his inner thought process this morning. So he goes.

XXX

It helps. He’s enormously exhausted, and the light of day hurts his eyes, even once he’s inside and is only absorbing its rays from the diamond window, but it helps.

“Sasuke-kun,” she greets in a voice like honey as she opens her door to him, dimple on open display. She really is so lovely, multi-faceted jade sparking with life that nearly instantly calms some of his anxiety.

He is briefly concerned about what he looks like to her, today. He checked prior to coming over here, brushing his teeth thrice in the hopes that his breath wouldn’t be bad, that he could drench his innards in enough clarifying mint to be even remotely deserving of a small amount of her affection. His eye was a little less bloodshot at that point, but overall he still looked like hell, sickly and pallid.

“Sakura,” he murmurs in response, voice hoarse from being put through a ringer of his own making.

There is a prolonged moment in which she examines him, wearing an analytical expression that reminds him of clinician Sakura. Then the spell is broken, as if she’s forcibly turned that part of herself off, and she’s stepping aside and telling him softly, “Come in! I made onigirazu.”

He steps inside her entryway, setting his book on the console table momentarily beside where Hazel Wood lies, ready to be returned. He then shifts out of her way so he can remove his shoes. He’s not particularly hungry, but he’s glad it’s something fairly simple and heavy on the rice; he should be able to eat it fine.

He follows her inside, appreciating the subdued luminosity of her lamps along the way. The blankets are already laid out on the couch, a promise of simple warmth and companionship that he is very much looking forward to.

As his eye adjusts and he enters the kitchen, ready to grab a plate, his gaze locks on remnants of sliced tomatoes atop a cutting board he recognizes, though it’s familiar to him from his own apartment, not hers.

It’s exactly the same design as the one Naruto gifted him.

A fire roars to life in his ribcage as he freezes for a split second, an exhausted icy hot appreciation. It’s an implication that means the world to him, and particularly well timed.

She wants him around, to help prepare future meals.

“I put some sliced tomatoes in yours. I hope it’s okay,” Sakura says as she hands him a plate, not addressing the elephant in the room at all, as if she just needed a new cutting board and happened to pick up that one, though he knows that cannot possibly be the case; he'd seen at least two in her cupboard, before. “Would you like tea, or maybe some water?”

He nods stiffly, vision a bit blurry, then comprehends the second question.

“Water is fine,” he manages thickly.

They sit in front of her window, supple sunshine streaming in. It’s not too bright here, angled just right.

“...How was your morning?” He asks after taking a sip of water, voice still gravelly. He is beyond content to be sitting here, just looking at her, so much better than a picture.

“Good. Ino and I walk or jog in the early morning on Sundays, if it's nice. Hinata comes sometimes; she did today.” She chews a bite of her rice sandwich.

Sasuke blinks; she hasn’t mentioned that yet. Another chunk of her schedule falls into place. “...Where?”

A half smile blooms on her lips, dimple pushed into being. “Sometimes we run laps around the village, but usually there's no real destination; we just walk and visit.” She takes a sip of her own water. “It’s nice when Hinata comes; it tones Ino down a notch.”

He would snort, if he was in a different sort of mood.

“We went to the southeast part of town today,” she continues. “Ino wanted to see a new building they put up. Her mom has a big order of flowers to deliver there later this week.”

Flowers. In the chaos of the night he’s had, lily bulbs fell to the wayside of his mind.

Sasuke carefully takes the first bite of his own food. It’s good, as he expected; a mixture of salmon, tomato, and salted rice, simple enough to hopefully help settle his stomach. He can kind of taste it.

He chews slowly, reverently, alternating between eating and taking small sips of water as she chatters animatedly. “The flower shop's orders are really taking off now. Ino’s usually busiest once May comes. Hopefully things stay peaceful, so she can stay in the village for the most part; her mom can always use the extra help.”

They wash and dry the dishes together, afterwards, a routine that is beginning to feel familiar. She still doesn’t say anything about the cutting board, but Sasuke greatly appreciates the way it feels in his hand when she gives it to him, weighty and with a designated home under her roof. It slides into place easily in the cupboard with the two others.

They read for a while on her couch again, wrapped in their respective blankets; Sakura keeps her apartment fairly cool. It’s cozy in a way that makes his head feel funny, like he could fall asleep in minutes if he really tried, lulled by the soothing scent of berry and cleanliness. He wonders if it would be restful, if he did. Usually once enough time ellipses, well into the next day, his brain cuts him some slack, though it could be that he's just too exhausted from being up most of the night for the neurons to fire up again to such a frenzy.

Sasuke finishes the last chapter of his book sluggishly and contemplates the ending, a lengthy description of the fisherman gripping the solid railings of the dock with both hands as he comes ashore for the first time in months.

When he flicks his gaze to Sakura tiredly, she’s a third of the way through a new book, titled Among the Ruins: Post-War Reflections. It appears to be a memoir; he assumes it must be one she’s purchased, as it doesn’t have the library label. Perhaps it’s new, picked up this morning while she was out, or it could be one from her bookshelves. He would like to peruse the titles she has, sometime. He drowsily wonders which war it’s about.

He takes a careful breath and just revels in it, being here with her, mere feet away with his eyes closed but able to sense her presence, worn out with thoughts that have edges as frayed as he is. He would like to stay for dinner, too. He thinks it’s perhaps becoming implied that they’ll eat together if she doesn’t have other plans, but he doesn’t want to be rude or overstay his welcome.

Sasuke hopes he can stay awake. Maybe he shouldn’t have said no to tea earlier; the additional caffeine might have helped. He could offer to make them both some, he thinks fuzzily, but then he starts wondering if that would be odd or overstepping. It’s her tea, and her kitchen, and her cups.

Then he sleepily remembers the cutting board.

“You can take a nap, you know,” Sakura murmurs kindly, soft words echoing a little in the stillness of her space. “If you’re tired. I don’t mind.”

He blinks his eyes open, vision adjusting as he realizes he nearly dozed off.

She’s smiling from the other end of the couch. “I can make dinner later, and wake you up when it’s ready. You should rest until then.” She pauses, then adds, “I can grab you a better pillow from my room, if you want.”

His brain catches up to his auditory processing, and then his ears warm.

Oh.

The offer is tempting, though he doesn’t want to be rude. If it were any other day, he would force himself to stay awake, to spend more time with her. But it’s not any other day, and he’s drained, enervated in a way that makes him want to give in. He should ask, to make sure it’s okay, but he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t offer if it wasn’t.

“...Here?”

A flush inks its way onto her cheeks as her expression turns thoughtful. “Yes. Or... you can use my bed, if you want.”

Sasuke forces his gaze away from hers, because his face feels extremely warm all of the sudden. “...I meant… here, at your apartment.”

“Oh.” Sakura laughs in a way that sounds nervous; he hears her fiddling with the book in her lap. “I, um… just meant whatever’s most comfortable.”

When he hesitantly looks back to her, she’s red, too.

“...What will you do?”

She gestures with her hand in a waving motion to indicate it's fine. “I can read, or do some laundry or work stuff. It’s no trouble. Really, Sasuke-kun.” Her blush deepens. "...I would like you to stay… And to have dinner later. If you’re free."

He swallows before slowly nodding his acquiesce, and then Sakura is up and heading to her bedroom in a blink of mismatched eyes. Muffled footsteps pad back moments later, a pillow with a lavender pillowcase clutched in her hands.

Her bedding must be a variant of violet, then, a pastel contrast to the black of his own. He is curious about the color of her bedroom walls all over again, but then she’s handing him the pillow, and he’s too tired to continue thinking.

“...Thank you.”

The smile she wears is so soft, treasured. “You’re welcome.”

He’s out within a few minutes of laying his head on the pillow, drowsing eyes barely catching the lamps flickering off one by one as she meanders around her space.

The pillow smells like her, too, cogent in its beckoning. He sleeps like a rock.

XXX

Sakura nudges him awake hours later, leaning forward to rest her upper body against the back of the couch. The scent of miso and roasted tomatoes drifts into his nostrils while lively jade peers down at him. The light coming from her window has dimmed quite a bit. It must be well into the evening; she let him sleep for a while.

“Dinner’s ready,” she murmurs softly, wearing an expression that is incredibly fond.

He stretches slightly as he rises from her sofa, working out a crick in his shoulder and thinking that he feels much more rested. Sasuke is about to head to her kitchen to get his own bowl, until Sakura turns towards the table, and he sees that she's already set out food for both of them, green market light switched on overhead.

There's onigiri, too, and a steaming cup of sencha placed on his side that he's sure is decaffeinated.

His side.

The realization, albeit a good one, disarms him.

He has a side of her table. And a side of her couch.

Sakura recites a story Hinata told her this morning as they eat, about how Naruto initially buried every single flower bulb in their garden beds six inches deep instead of reading the directions, so they had to dig everything up and salvage the instructions on the package from the trash to replant.

“He mixed them all together, too, instead of planting them in sections like a normal person.” She laughs, and his lips turn upwards in shared amusement. “She said she hopes they didn’t miss one. Iris and echinacea can sometimes multiply out of control. She was happy she didn’t add bee balm to the list, too, or they’d really be in trouble; those can grow anywhere, even in gravel.”

The soup and tea feel good on his throat, and the rice is filling in a way that would be difficult to throw up, absorbent of moisture and chunking together to expand in his stomach until he is full, in more ways than one.

He can taste again, the richness of tomato and miso and calming ubiquitous green on his tongue and in his heart, thoughts of flowers and their idiot teammate helping to cast aside his earlier melancholy.

Sasuke loves her so much in that moment that it physically aches, her voice a balm that puts the rawest parts of him at ease.

"Thank you," he says quietly at the conclusion of the meal, grateful in ways he's not sure he'll ever be able to put into words.

Her response is simple, gentle, pure. “You’re welcome.”

As they wash and dry the dishes together in the dim light of her kitchen, Sakura tells him softly, “I put leftovers in containers for you in the fridge. Please take them with you tonight.”

He nods as his eyes sting with appreciation. When he turns to put away the teacups, he blinks to clear them as she wipes down the sink one last time for the evening.

As she sorts through her movie selection afterwards - it’s her turn to pick - he asks, “How is the poison antidote coming?”

Sakura glances at him curiously for a second from where she’s perched on the wood floor, rifling through the lower cabinet. “I think we might have it solved. Blarina toxin from a southern short-tailed shrew, and then possibly lionfish toxin, laced with algal bloom cyanobacteria. The lionfish toxin is part of the trouble; it’s such a trace amount that it was hard to identify, not enough to cause swelling on the exterior body like you’d see if you were stung by one in person. We’re still running tests, but the neutralization seems to be working on the mice so far.” She blanches a little. “Or, rather, the mice we have left. It’s diminished our stocks; shrew venom is particularly deadly to them.”

Sasuke knew it was likely to kill several of them, but not quite to that extent. He’s interested in her work, so he asks, “How many?”

She turns back to sift through her cabinet as she answers, pulling out another movie to examine. “A gland-full of venom is potent enough to kill up to two hundred of them. It’s why it took us longer than usual; we had to give them the absolute tiniest dose in order to not kill them within hours. I guess it makes sense; they’re one of the things they eat in the wild. The dose in the poison sample was high, though, venom from multiple shrews. A single bite usually isn’t enough to do any harm to humans, but when it’s quadrupled in dosage and laced with other things, it’s more severe.”

“...What’s the treatment?”

Sakura rattles off the extremely complex answer as if it’s nothing. “An antihistamine, steroid, botulinum toxin, and an antibiotic. We’re also giving them blood transfusions and flushing out the blood as it comes to the exterior machine, to get rid of the cyanobacteria. Kind of like conventional water treatment… just more complicated. More steps, filtration, and obviously we can’t use chlorine, so it takes longer.”

Sasuke blinks somewhat in awe. She really is so intelligent.

“...That sounds lengthy.”

She shrugs, movie still in hand. “It is. It’s why we’re not one hundred percent sure if we’ve solved it yet; the lionfish venom is still the weak link, and will be until we can see that the other portions of the treatment have worked to isolate it.”

“...I’d like to learn the process.”

A smile plays at her lips and a flush inks its way onto her cheeks. He supposes it was a roundabout sort of compliment; he could have worded it better, but she seems to have understood him anyway. She does about a lot of things, he thinks.

“I can bring home a kit, sometime, and teach you the basics. It could be useful.”

He nods; he would like that.

There is a long pause as Sakura bites her lip before further examining the movie case in her hand.

Then, she asks, a tentative expression on her face and peeking at him to gauge his reaction, “Want to watch a bad one?”

Sasuke wonders if she knows he would watch any movie with her, if it means he gets to be in her company like this, saved from a room with white tiles or dark wood.

“...Sure.”

She wasn't exaggerating; it is truly terrible, riddled with plot holes so nonsensical that it’s almost funny. The acting is bad, too, though perhaps that’s more to blame on the script rather than the actors.

“Even the camera work is awful,” Sakura says at one point, gesturing towards the left side of the screen. “If you look in the background here, there’s an extra that just… walks into the wall.”

He watches, and sure enough, behind the main characters, a girl walks directly into a corner and just stands there.

He snorts, genuinely enthused in a manner he would not have thought possible hours ago. Sakura laughs at the other end of the couch. It’s a sound he could listen to forever, sweet and chiseled into his heart.

They play an extensive round of go afterwards, venturing well into the night with the plinking of small pieces into place. It’s nearly eleven when she finally walks him to her doorway, two containers of tomato miso soup and onigiri in her hands. As he pulls on his shoes, Sakura sets them by his library book on the console table.

“Would you want to read tomorrow afternoon?” She asks as he rises to his full height.

He nods. “...I’ll meet you here.”

Her dimple makes a reappearance. “One fifteen?”

He inclines his head again in agreement, then decides to ask. It’s becoming easier, now that she has said yes so many times.

“Dinner, after?”

Her smile widens. “Of course. I was thinking gyudon. Light on the sugar. You could…” She bites her lip and shifts a bit. “...You could help me cook, if you’d like.”

Something turns over in his belly. “...Okay.”

She glows at him. He swallows once before reaching out to skim her freckle, enjoying the feel of her cheek against the pad of his thumb.

And then her fingers against his fingers, holding him there against her cheek, soft and steady.

Then he leans down, and his lips are on hers, a breath exhaled in unison as her entryway falls away. Her free hand twists around his neck, delicately brushing the fabric and a fraction of his skin in a way that nearly makes him shiver. It’s a long moment of quietus, a finishing stroke to a day that could have gone very differently.

It is also the longest kiss they’ve shared yet, and it is over far too soon.

He’s pulling away to look at her, letting his hand drop away, when she wraps her arms tenderly around him.

He can hardly breathe, taken off guard by the absolute sensation of comfort he’s enveloped in.

She doesn’t say a thing; just hugs him tight, her fingertips spreading across his back and face pressed to his sternum. Berry invades his olfactory senses.

Slowly he lifts his arm to carefully return the hug, swallowing a tender sort of truth, a kind that goes down easy, the evidence and action of her affection. He can feel Sakura’s heartbeat against his chest, a tempo teeming with life.

They stand there together in her entryway for a long time.

XXX

He sleeps wrapped in a clean comforter, and though it’s not for very long, it is dreamless.

He’s eating leftover onigiri when he receives a mission summons, barely past seven in the morning. He finishes his meal and pops a cough drop in his mouth before departing for the Hokage’s office.

It’s a nice day, he thinks as he walks, coming to a decision as he admires vernal greenery lining the streets. The sun is just lifting over the horizon, painting everything pale amber.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi greets as he walks in; he’s the first one there again, apparently. “Good morning.”

“Kakashi.”

Their old sensei smiles at him in the strange all-seeing manner he has. Sasuke notes the presence of a new picture frame present on his desk, replacing the one he’s given him.

He is extremely grateful to have that picture to grip onto in his darker moments. Sasuke considers thanking him then, for Iron, but then Naruto is barreling in noisily.

“Whaizzit?” He yawns raucously, as if he just woke up, sleep still clinging to the corners of his eyes. They are multi-faceted, too, even in their barely aware state, and Sasuke inwardly breathes a sigh of relief, normalcy shifting fully back into place as the door clicks behind his teammate.

Then Naruto registers that Sasuke is present. “Eh? Teme?!” Cerulean scans the room as if he’s searching for something, then he frowns, directing a lengthy glare Kakashi’s way.

“If you've called me here at seven in the fucking morning for anything that isn’t a Team Seven reunion mission, I’m going to lose it.”

Ah. He was looking for Sakura.

“Afraid not,” Kakashi answers cryptically from his desk, and Naruto’s sleepy glare tightens. Then the Hokage smiles, as if something is incredibly amusing. "Guard duty. Kotetsu and Izumo deserve a break. Things are slow this week, and we have the extra numbers.”

The copy ninja skillfully dodges Naruto’s sandal as it flies towards him. “You’ve got to be kidding. You woke me up for this? You could have told me later in the day or something!!”

“Future Hokages don’t receive special treatment, and it’s professional to give more than twenty-four hours notice if possible.”

Naruto grumbles. "All week?"

Kakashi grins. "Tuesday through Friday."

Inwardly, Sasuke twitches.

"I should specify; nine to six, Tuesday through Friday."

Outwardly, Sasuke twitches.

It's not exactly her work schedule for all four days, but it lines up closely enough that it's fairly obvious what Kakashi’s doing.

Naruto barely reacts; just snorts in a way that is caustic, as if he finds the times unsurprising. "Cool. Can I go back to sleep until it’s time to kick teme’s ass now? Hinata-chan and I were cozy."

Sasuke rolls his eyes; when they spar in the mornings, it’s typically between eight and nine. He’ll have around an hour's extra sleep at best, though he supposes he’s not in any position to judge at this point, given his nap on Sakura’s couch yesterday.

Kakashi’s smile widens, mask wrinkling. "Sure. Dismissed."

They both watch on in faint amusement as Naruto stumbles sleepily out of his office, neglecting to collect his missing shoe.

“...Some things never change,” the Hokage murmurs, sighing.

“...No, they don’t.”

“Well, anyways, before you go…” Kakashi turns to him, tapping the pen at his desk absentmindedly. “How are things?”

Sasuke blinks, recalling leftovers and a new cutting board and the feeling of Sakura’s arms around him.

And kissing. Mostly kissing. Probably too much, if his neck’s sudden warmth is anything to go by.

“Good.”

A lone visible eye crinkles at the corners. “Great. Don’t hesitate to let any of us know if you need anything.”

He lets the words hang in the air for an extended few seconds before nodding slowly.

"I was thinking…” Kakashi continues, gaze flicking down to the photograph on his desk. “...Perhaps we could make Team Seven dinners a monthly thing. It would be good, don’t you think?"

“...Yeah.”

A dark eye locks on him again. "Sai could come, too."

Ah.

"...Sure." He really should make an effort to get to know him better. His replacement seems nice enough, peculiar as he is.

"Wonderful. Let's plan on the first Saturday of every month at six, shall we? If we're all in the village, that is. I’ll let him know when I call him in later this morning."

“Okay.”

A long moment passes, then Kakashi is procuring the shoe from the area behind his desk. Sasuke notes that he holds it as far away from him as his arm will allow.

“...I don’t suppose you’d return this, when you see him later?”

Sasuke says nothing.

“...Though I suppose I could assign it as a mission to some Genin.” Then he's sighing, setting it on the farthest edge of Naruto’s work area. “Too bad I just gave an assignment to my last two.”

Shooting him a withering look, Sasuke departs the Hokage’s Office. He gets the distinct feeling as he goes that Kakashi is incredibly pleased with himself, solidified by what he calls after him.

“Tell Sakura I say hi.”

Guard duty is easy in theory, but spending thirty six hours with the dobe may be… a challenge. He supposes if the reward is being able to see Sakura after she works most of those days, he'll take it. He's sure Kakashi won't keep him in the village forever; eventually duty will call him away for extended periods of time.

It solidifies his decision; he should take the opportunity of being here to plant something.

He stops by the market vendor on the northern end to buy two packages of lily bulbs on his way home. The market is fairly slow, so there are few other people around.

The packages feel good in his hand, lighter than he expected.

Sasuke works through a section of one of his other books before Naruto shows up on his doorstep, still appearing for all intents and purposes half asleep. Their spar ends in another draw; luckily there are no cracked bones this time.

He eats more leftovers for lunch after, appreciating the taste.

XXX

Sasuke feels at home in Sakura’s kitchen, cutting scallions easily while she broils beef and prepares the egg mixture for gyudon just a few steps away. The meal comes together quickly between the two of them, savory with a sauce that is heavier on the mirin and sake than the sugar.

Food they prepare together somehow tastes even better. It’s late when they finally sit down to eat dinner, gazing out through glass at the streets below as they take their first bites.

The sauce is perfect; not too sweet.

“...I have guard duty this week,” he mentions after a while.

“With who?” She asks, though her lips twitch upwards.

He rolls his eyes. “...Guess.”

She bites her lip, and he tears his gaze away from her mouth and up to her eyes. The green is filled with mirth, twinkling with illuminated flecks.

“Good luck,” she says sincerely. “What times?”

He glances away, ears warming and wondering if Kakashi has mentioned anything to her about them being… together.

“Tomorrow through Friday, nine to six.”

There is a long pause. When he peeks back at her, she’s blushing.

“...Kakashi-sensei is nosy.” Sakura takes another bite of her food, looking shy for some reason, and suddenly Sasuke is certain that their sensei has said something to her, perhaps on multiple occasions. He wonders what.

“...He is.” He thinks, then adds as an afterthought, “...He says hi.”

They do the dishes together and play two rounds of chess. Sakura wins once, and the second round is another stalemate, though he suspects he was close to beating her.

It’s close to nine by the time they’re putting the board away. As he works on packing up the last of the pieces to store in their allocated compartment, he notices she’s gazing out the window, scanning the sky as if distracted.

The way she’s angled puts the freckle on her cheek in plain view, pale hair loosely tucked behind her ear.

Then she turns to him, pink flooding her complexion, and Sasuke realizes he’s been staring, the remaining few pieces still clutched in his hand, frozen in midair in his distraction. He hastily finishes putting them away as his own face warms. Sakura rises from the table to put the box away, footsteps echoing softly through her living space.

He looks outside quizzically for a moment, embarrassedly trying to will the color away from his face and wondering what she was looking at. It’s a clear evening, calm without a cloud in sight.

"I was wondering if…"

His vision snaps to her expectantly across the room, and her cheeks flush darker; he can see it even though it’s dimly lit, shifting from one foot to the other. She seems nervous.

"If you would maybe want to… go stargazing for a bit tonight?"

His pulse quickens, pushing at the seams of chambers and ventricles in a way that makes it feel like the vines have twisted their way in, taking hold of whatever they can clutch.

She apparently does still like that sort of thing.

And she wants to go with him.

He nods immediately, struck speechless with elation before he manages to form the question, "...Where?"

Her expression is one of relief. "I was thinking just outside the village. There’s…” She looks away, smiles. “There’s a place Ino and I go to sometimes; we went today for a bit, after training. There are wild lilacs blooming right now.” She shifts her gaze to him again. “It's supposed to be a little cooler, but the sky’s clear. We could bring tea in a thermos; I have two."

Heat creeps up his neck as he agrees, heart stammering in his chest a little, because he’s started thinking about it now, and stargazing together is very clearly romantic in nature, amongst flowers even more so.

Sakura brews tea for the both of them as he distracts himself by slicing a lemon for hers. When he glances at her surreptitiously, she’s still blushing, and jade eyes snap away as if this time she’s the one that’s been caught staring. That makes his heart pound, to the extent that he’s glad she’s a few feet away, because it’s so loud that she might hear it.

They meander to the edge of the village as evenfall settles, into the forested area just beyond the gates. As Sasuke trails behind her, divagating through subtly flattened pathways between the trees, his thoughts wander to bygone seasons.

There once was a pond, three quarters of a mile outside of the village, beyond where the Uchiha District used to be. It wasn’t officially a part of their grounds, but it was remote enough that it wasn’t easily happened upon by anyone other than their family, off the beaten path and through thicket and thistle as it was.

Itachi used to take him fishing there.

He thinks they’d gone four or five times in all, but he remembers it well, because he had been terrible at fishing, not a shred of patience. His brother caught most of them, but he would sometimes set the hook before passing off the reel to Sasuke to help him learn. It was quiet, peaceful in the way that only the wilderness is, away from the pressures of expectations. Wildflowers poked up everywhere in the later summer months, situated on a hill towards the far side of the pond. They picked some together for their mother, once; Sasuke clutched them in his hands while they made the trek back to the village, Itachi carrying their bucket of perch and bass.

It was nice in the autumn, too, warm tones flooding everything. One could sit in the swaying overgrowth flush with falling leaves for hours taking it all in and still not see it all, an overwhelmingly pure sense of peace, made heartier by the taste of freshly grilled fish later in the evening.

The walk had seemed like it took forever back then, on short legs looking upward. He’s never returned to that place, not once, since he was eight. It would hurt too much, for different reasons now than when he was twelve.

He remembers passing wild lilacs then, too, on the way there and back. He supposes they probably thrive in the chaparral throughout Fire Country, if one cares to traipse through the foliage to look for them. He stumbled upon many on his journey, just passing through on roads less traveled.

The small clearing Sakura leads them to reminds him of the pond a little, wild and flush with fading hues, framed by fragrant lilacs in bloom as she said, but there are no memories tied to it yet, so it’s better. Huge bushes of them grow unaided here, wispy purple redolence scattered by the wind into the earth's cracks, ushered in by whispers through the trees.

The wilds are not so far from Konoha, really. Like the cherry blossom tree on the hill, it's a good reminder that some things can grow easily even on rougher terrain.

Sasuke sits rather close to her, so they can drink their tea together. The sun slips just below the horizon, a cloudless sky awash in a shifting gradient. He catches jade as he takes a drink, appreciating the taste, a small bit of warmth on a cool night.

The way she’s looking at him makes his heart rate accelerate again, a serene expression that implies there is nothing she would rather be doing right now than be here.

With him.

Eventually stars begin inking into existence overhead one by one, the last bit of sun lingering just on the horizon, a muted blur of violet bleeding into black. Things are slightly clearer here, beyond the boundaries of the village, no glass or light pollution to obscure the retinas.

Once she finishes her tea, Sakura lies down the same way she does on the hill, so he does, too, trying to calm his heart rate, because he is very close to her, just within reach. The forest breathes around them, coating everything in a lilac perfume.

He used to think about her, when he looked to the stars, feeling worlds away and wondering if she thought of him that day. Being next to her is better, revered, the calm din of an evening he has craved for a long time.

When he turns to steal a look, her eyes are already on him, and there is something about that moment, as the last light fades, being here with her, that makes his chest go aflame.

And then Sakura turns slightly, reaching out towards him with her right hand, and he blinks.

She sweeps his hair away from his Rinnegan eye, a thumb gently skimming his cheek as he has hers, before her hand falls away. Though they are cloaked in the gloaming of dusk’s darkness, enough he hopes to hide the warmth that has crept into his face, there is adequate light left to see her expression, so tender, jade eyes desaturated to dark sage.

He feels seen in a way that he hasn’t felt before, recalling soft words in an exam room.

Not me.

The sky is fully lit in short order, beautiful and dark with only a tiny sliver of the moon visible. It is truly lovely, Ursa Major, Leo, and Hydra scattered before them like a painting a million years old, ageless messengers traveling from who knows where, as he did. It took many steps to get here to her, scattered revolutions passing wide arcs around the sun, yearning for a day to close the gap, to feel like he was close to ready.

It was worth every single one.

A question is on the tip of his tongue, so he decides to ask it, to give in to the impulse.

“...Any poems?” He wants to learn the words she likes, what kinds of meaning she applies to things, intelligent as she is. Sasuke imagines the inner workings of Sakura’s mind to be quite complex, teeming with all of the things she’s read, research and fiction and nonfiction. He would like to know her favorite pieces of poetry, what she holds dear in her own heart.

She shifts slightly; he thinks she must be looking at him for a split second.

There is a lengthy silence punctuated by crickets before she finally answers, “A short one,” voice hushed like the breeze around them; if he wasn’t so close to her, he wouldn’t be able to hear.

He shifts his gaze to her on his right, barely able to make out her silhouette in the dark.

“Take notice of what light does - to everything.”

The words sink into him like rain on freshly tilled soil, triggering a bricolage of recollections. Instantly he is reminded of light through the window of his bathroom, stirring him from a pit of self doubt and guilt. Then light through the windows of Sakura’s apartment, cooking and doing the dishes together in her kitchen. A nap, comfortable on her couch as day fades into dusk, lamps switched off for a period of much needed rest. Flowers, grown by a doorstep with the sun’s rays seeping in through diamond patterning. The shadow of a jasmine plant, inked onto her cheekbone, and neon lights reflectant atop pale pink hair.

The intricate stitching of an uchiwa fan, thread catching iridescence as she holds it daintily in her hands as if it is something important, to be cherished.

Her eyes when she is happy, hints of gold flecks, catching like fractals of color atop shifting seafoam.

The way white nerine lilies looked drenched in sunlight, on days that are decidedly not summer monsoons.

Stars are a form of light, too, and despite being far away, they are refulgent in their luminosity, a beauty that cuts through murk and offers much for contemplation; the gaps of darkness between them are what allows people to make meaning out of them, constellations strewn together.

He is home, surrounded by spring. It is something to behold.

“...Did you write letters to Naruto?” Sakura asks after a lengthy period of reflection, so softly that her voice is almost a whisper.

The concept is so ridiculous to him that he would snort, if not for the moment they are sharing right now and the way she asked it, no hint of a joke in her tone.

So he answers seriously, just as quietly. “No.”

There is a long pause.

“...And Kakashi-sensei?”

Ah. He understands what she’s really asking. “...Other than missions, no.”

It’s hard to tell, but he thinks he sees her fingers grip in the grass next to her, gently as if in reflex.

Sasuke tries very hard to swallow his doubts.

When they were on missions as Genin, she used to lay sprawled out like this, hands spread next to her. So did Naruto. It bothered him then, because he liked his folded together on his stomach and he was very particular about personal space, which they both invaded.

Sasuke doesn’t have another hand to fold his with anymore, though, and he’s less concerned about personal space with her than he used to be. The darkness helps bolster his confidence, too, nyctophile that he is; she won’t see the heat that’s spreading to his face here, lit merely by distant flickering stars.

Take notice of what light does - to everything.

The luminaries above them offer only a little of it, yet it's a transfixing sight, something of the epochal and the divine present that he has been drawn to for years.

So he reaches out to skim her hand with his, a tentative sort of constellation in itself, recorded in points of contact and palm prints on the skin rather than etched in alembic light in the sky.

There are soft fingertips, a knuckle gently gliding by. Then she’s interlacing her fingers with his, and suddenly it’s not tentative at all. It’s leal, steady, her small hand in his as if it has always belonged there, the scent of flourishing blooms wafting around them and painting everything in his head lilac starlight.

Her thumb brushes his skin once, twice, thrice, achingly gentle.

He should have reached out sooner, but he supposes they’re young, still. There is a lot of time ahead of them. The stars will align eventually, slow in their revolutions around common centers of mass as he is in letting people in. She accepted his apology for being late already, fine fingertips clutching an uchiwa fan with a touch just as gentle as now.

If he can only hold her hand in the dark, maybe that’s enough for now, a single star he can reach. He hopes he'll reach the others eventually.

Hours pass with her hand in his, and he is a small bit closer in revolution by the time he walks her home.

Lilac and raspberry and starlight coalesce against his lips when they collide with hers, an allegorical perfume he could easily get drunk on. He skims the freckle again, tenderly osculant, and realizes that is the start of a constellation, too, a novitious star burning brighter every time he reaches out. Kissing makes three.

Her hands around his neck make four. This time he does shiver, but he doesn’t pull away.

Sakura’s lips are so soft.

XXX

He plants the lily bulbs shortly after they say good night, under the cover of the caliginous dark that shepherds in the dew of the morning, tiny drops of moisture beginning to collect on nearby blades of grass. The stars are still out, bright enough to be beautiful but dim enough so that he can’t read the names.

Sakura would help him if he asked, he knows, but he doesn’t think he’s quite ready for that yet. He settles for trying to make his touch as gentle yet sure as hers, an elegy of calloused fingers digging carefully through the dirt, grasping and placing lily bulbs one by one. There are four bulbs in total, so he plants two on each side, nine inches apart, allowing them to poke up through the soil slightly and frame the stone; he reread the instructions when he stopped by his apartment earlier. It’s a different brand of corrosion, manually digging up layers of dirt rather than hoping they slough off, but it’s progress, and it doesn't require digging too deep.

There has to be something beneath the layers of sediment, he thinks, to feel the way he does about her. He hopes that what he feels is enough, that his slow revolutions will be worthwhile for her, in the end.

I’m sure it will be lovely, when everything finally comes together.

Being in Konoha is not easy, after everything, but being with Sakura is.

When he’s lying in his own bed a short time later, he recalls the love in her fingertips against his. It lulls him to sleep.

[xwasted-days]

𝖘𝖆𝖋𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 || 𝖇.𝖍.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

A/N: It’s probably been done before, but I wanted to throw together a little song-fic based on Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars. I’m sappy and I like sad things. Also, this is my first tumblr fic, pls be nice. Requests are open and I have no tag-list, because it’s a new blog. 

Work Count: 2, 276

Complete Story Warnings: Major Character Death, Pure Angst, 10/10 sad. Also, probably language. 

The battle of Starcourt was turning in favor of the party and all therein, but war was never without casualty. 

Billy Hargrove had a questionable character and reputation among most in Hawkins. People wanted him as a friend or a fuck, and those that didn’t wanted him gone. Few succeeded in ever knowing Billy as more than the sad little king of his sad little hill, and even fewer knew the plights he faced at home. A minimal two: Max, the step sister, and Y/N, the girlfriend, who rushed into the center of the mall behind Mike Wheeler, unable to help as Billy threw himself in El’s path. Y/N moved before her mind could register: scrambling forward when Billy caught the mindflayer’s clawed gullet in his hands. Those beautiful, calloused hands with the feather-soft touch. She took another step forward, faltering as a tentacle dug into his left side, the sickening crunch of torn flesh and splintering ribs echoing in the building silence. The second hit came and she rushed forward again, slipping on fragments of broken glass. Y/N’s knees hit the ground hard, the sharp sting barely registering as the hits kept coming, clawing all around his torso. He screamed each time, every cry cutting off in a strangled garble at the sharp shock of another tentacle landing its blows. Billy screamed, daring the monster on, and Y/N screamed, begging it all to stop. 

The final blow landed in the center of Billy’s chest, silencing him. Max’s scream sounded somewhere behind her. 

As the mindflayer pulled away, thrashing, snarling, wailing in defeat, Y/N ran forward, slipping in rapidly pooling blood as she pulled Billy to her chest. 

I remember tears streaming down your face, when I said, “I’ll never let you go.”

The words, even as they left Y/N’s lips, felt like the deepest and most real thing she’d expressed since the moment he was taken by the mindflayer. 

Since the darkness had fallen over Hawkins, she’d felt vacant, plastic, unreal. She supposed the notion came first when Barb had gone missing; when the trio of sub-popular girls was first fractured. Everything seemed to fall apart until Y/N found out what really happened to Barb, what was haunting Will Byers, and what hunted the people of Hawkins.  

Life was a ceaseless ebb and flow of highs and lows; still, she never expected the tide to pull away as it was now. Nothing could compare to this feeling: her boyfriend tucked in her arms, fading away before her, was what would cause the tidal wave to break. 

Cool and fragile, the rapid thundering of his heart beneath Y/N’s palm, the salt of crystalline tears sliding off his angled pale, cheek, his hand gripping her arm as he clung to waning life. Billy opened his mouth, hoping for any words to form. None did. He felt the pain with each blow, but as the creature yanked itself away and Billy fell, there was no sensation. Nothing but an icy numbness. After his mom left, Billy prayed for nothing more than to lose his feeling, and now it was gone he wanted it back. 

He wanted it back because he wanted to stay with her. He’d always known he was a selfish bastard, but this instance wasn’t for himself. It was for her; his Y/N. The only girl he gave a shit about for longer than one night at a time. And now, he was going to lose her. “..I-” he struggled again, shivering in her arms. 

When all those shadows almost killed your light

“Shh,” Y/N cooed, bringing her hand up to brush sweaty, blonde curls off of his forehead, ignoring the scene that played out around them. Billy was never meant to get caught in this crossfire; he was meant to be as he always was: cocky, stupid, young and reckless. Seated atop his lifeguard seat, staring out over the crowds of Hawkins Community Pool as a king surveyed his kingdom. Instead, he was out there, vulnerable to to the upside down, taken as so many others had been.

Y/N glanced down at the gaping, bloody hole that forced the pale colored fabric of the shirt at Billy’s chest to dip inward, the rich, viscous, and sickly stain making her stomach churn. She bit hard on the inside of her cheek, a meager attempt at staunching her tears as she played strong for Billy’s sake. She felt his hand at her arm give a squeeze, her attentions drawing back toward the boy in her lap. Y/E/C eyes connecting to Billy’s steely blue ones again, she offered a shaky smile, her thumb smoothing along the arch of his cheek. 

I remember you said, "Don't leave me here alone…"

Billy’s voice was soft and hoarse, barely audible as the commotion of the party and the mindflayer fizzled on around them. The fair haired, beautiful boy Y/N had fallen so deeply for let out a soft grunt of protest at the ache, his body twitching involuntarily as pain coursed through him.

“Think you can get rid of me that easily, ya little shit?” Y/N asked with a gentle chuckle, keeping her shaky grin to ease Billy’s worry. Her tears flowed more freely now, slipping down her cheeks as she held him close. “Gotta try a whole helluva lot harder than that, Hargrove. You and me. California, remember?” 

The broken king of Hawkins High put on a woozy, pale-lipped smile and hiccupped on a sob, coughing after. A soft mist of blood peppered his lips and chin, staining his teeth crimson. California, their would-be paradise, far away from Indiana and all their worries. He’d sworn up and down that they would leave one day, go back to his home and flourish in ways unimaginable. His promise now seemed as broken as he was. He was fading. Y/N didn’t have enough time.

But all that's dead and gone and passed tonight.

The flutter of Billy’s heart was growing more and more faint, and the beats, which willed themselves with great difficulty, grew slower and slower in their efforts. 

Billy leaned his weight further into Y/N’s body, slack and woozy. All the coherency in his head fading. She had promised that wouldn’t leave, said she wouldn’t let go, but she had. Or hadn’t she? He could hardly tell, his vision fading in and out, gleams of purple and pink, the hazy sound of distant chatter. Billy felt his chest heave with a great gasp, and his jaw open and close with the effort of breath. It happened again, and again. He felt hands on his arms, squeezing, but he couldn’t register the effect of the sensation. He was cold, so cold. He wished so vehemently that he could ask Y/N what was going on, but Billy couldn’t seem to find his tongue. 

That’s a first, he thought, trying to squeeze back the person in his numbed fingers. Every bit of him was so cold, probably frozen from where he had been, lost in darkness with the delicate snowfall. He was sure another erratic breath would leave him in shards. His head lulled to the side, hardly-seeing eyes registering the plume of Y/H/C and a small streak of fiery red. He searched between them, hoping to register on either of the faces that peered down on him, but none came. He coughed, gagging on something oozing in his throat, feeling hands tighten and voices raise. 

Soft curls of blonde hair fell over her his forehead, even as Y/N pushed them away, shifting his weight so Billy’s head was more firmly pressed to her chest. He was growing more and more still, even as she and Max begged him to stay. The girl took a breath, fighting down the body-trembling sob that wedged in her throat. “Billy? Wake up, Billy, please?” She asked, watching a tear of her own fall down to slip against his cheek, rolling down onto his stubbled chin.

Billy took a deep, shuddering breath, so loud he scared himself. He'd forgotten to breathe, and the muted voices he heard in his haze kept him there. Her voice. The voice he listened to in the quiet solitude of a shared bedroom, or in the crowded halls of Hawkins High. The voice he grew to love before he could even remember what love felt like. The voice he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. 

He blinked, trying to clear the tears in his eyes, focusing on Y/N and Max hovering above him.

“....I’m sorry.” Billy shuddered as his eyes glossed over,  a sudden cloud overtaking his vision. The clarity of the world was fading into shapes, then shadows, and careening rapidly into darkness. There was a loud bang somewhere near him and had he retained the strength, he would have jumped. Another bang. And another. One, two. One, two. One. Two. One. Two, each pair of beats getting further and further apart. Billy breathed out, defeated, overcome by the realization that those noises were thuds of his heart stopping. He couldn't see, he couldn't feel, he couldn’t taste anything but the heavy black goop on his tongue, he could only smell the coppery, acrid stink of blood that clogged his sinuses. All that was left was hearing; Billy was caught listening to the terrible, awful rhythm of his once-small heart, stopping. He listened again, hoping to hear the voices, praying they would draw him out of it, but there was no sound. Nothing. Not even the beating of his heart. Just his remaining consciousness, slowly going black. Billy Hargrove was dead, he knew. He wanted to scream, to panic and cry, but nothing was there. 

He didn't see the light that everyone blathered about, he didn't feel the peace. He was the hollow, lifeless shell of a boy who could have been more than a lifeguard with an attitude problem. And he was dead. And he left her behind. 

His beautiful Y/N, whose voice and smiles and touches were forfeit to the darkness that consumed. 

Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire. The war outside our door keeps raging on. Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone. 

Y/N  felt the final, sickening beat of Billy’s heart beneath her hand. Another tear fell onto Billy’s face, then another. And another. Max whispered, begging her step brother to wake, her small hands shaking his bloodied shoulders to no avail. A hard, broken, centuries old sob tore through Y/N’s chest and echoed through the mall; the cry of everyone who had lost someone they loved for good. The cry that begged death to return a loved one to the land of the living that always fell on deaf ears. 

“Billy, please,” she whimpered, trembling fingers soothing the lifeless skin of the boy she loved. Every thought, hope, wish, and dream connected to him was gone, dead as he was. 

Jagged orange patterns began to dance on the ground all around them, and offered the girl nothing but a ghastly illumination along her lost lover’s gaunt, pale face. It made him look hollow, as if no happiness, no mischief, no curiosity had once been lurking behind those coy, gorgeous eyelids. His once tanned, golden flesh was sickly and pale, the adonis within snuffed out forever. Y/N  snarled and sobbed hard, holding Billy closer, hiding him from the sickening yellowed light of the fire that grew.

She heard feet scramble around as the party gathered, their footfalls echoing like hard beat of the drums of war.

Villains never prevailed. Heroes never lived. No one was ever truly saved. Y/N’s shoulders caved and shook as she sobbed, broken and holding onto Billy’s body. Stifling a hiccup, she sighed sadly and started humming and rocking him back and forth; their song mumbled on tear-stained lips. She was chained to her place on the ground, lost. 

She didn’t see the others there, she couldn’t hear their words. She didn’t take notice when Max hid her face in El’s shoulder and sobbed for her lost brother.  

The world around her was crumbling into vacant nothingness and Y/N felt herself heave with another sob. She leaned back, her blood stained fingers gently brushing the infallible, pure flesh of Billy’s cold cheek, smoothing the tears she’d left there away with another broken whimper. “I love you…” She whispered longingly, her voice needy and raspy. 

A hand pressed to Y/N’s shoulder. It didn’t matter whose it was. It wasn’t his. And she hated that it pulled her back. The distant thrum of helicopters rattling in the skies, the sobs that left Max as she cried, the soft sniffles that sounded from El as she sat in mourning solidarity with her friend. Steve’s voice low as sirens began to wail in the streets. 

“Y/N. We gotta go,” Steve said, joined at her flank by Robin, whose thin hand came to rest on Y/N’s arm. She didn’t move. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t leave him. Another sob leaving her, Robin leaned forward to rest her head on Y/N’s shoulder, rubbing her arm gently as she could, tears flooding her own eyes as she looked across to Steve’s battered face. 

Harrington hated Hargrove with all he had, but he didn’t deserve this. Y/N didn’t deserve this. Nostrils quivering as he fought to keep strong, he gave Robin a solemn nod. Together, they helped place Billy on the ground where he fell and pull Y/N back, consoling her as she cried. 

Just close your eyes. The sun is going down You'll be alright.  No one can hurt you now Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound.

[beauregard-s]

Cherry Vodka [Part II] | Richie T. + Eddie K.

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader x Eddie Kaspbrak (21+)

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: language, alcohol, fluffy polyamory, threesome, unprotected sex, oral (fem and male receiving), praise, overstimulation AND a bit of implicit Reddie if you try really hard

Anon said: “ okay so based off that art you reblogged of the richie x bev x eddie, what about like a reader x richie x eddie fluffy smut based off that (i hope that makes sense bahahha)”

A/n: Nothing much, it’s the mercy shot of this one. I just hope y’all like it <3

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That whole fucked up situation got you thinking for the whole night and Richie leaving you high and dry like that didn’t help. 

Sleeping became a hard task and you rolled over in between the sheets for a long time before you could fall asleep and, even like that, when you woke up your mind was still full.

A bit clearer, but full.

It remained like that the whole day on, during breakfast, during lunch and into the afternoon when Richie drove you all downtown because you were running out of food. You tried your guts out to act cool, but you just couldn’t. They wouldn’t let you.

You noticed it right away in the morning when you came downstairs and Richie and Eddie were whispering, eating cereal at the table. They never whispered, Eddie never whispered. Sometimes he just couldn’t keep his voice low at an acceptable tone. The more stressed out he was, louder he’d be. But at that moment they were whispering, Eddie tapping his spoon thoughtlessly on his bowl’s border as if he was thinking about something, Richie smirking slyly at him. And it got weirder when they noticed you there. “Hey, beautiful,” Eddie said fondly. “Could you get some sleep, toots?” Went Richie. And they both smiled at the same time, that weird complicity keeping up throughout the whole day.

You were not dumb, you knew what was going on. Richie had gossiped. Not about him, but about you. He was an open infamous book, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell Eddie that he wanted to do what he told you he wanted to, but he for sure added your flustered reaction to the idea to his comments. 

And you hated him for that because later at the grocery, walking down the snack aisle as Eddie followed you, you could feel his curious eyes on you. You noticed how close he tried to be to you all the time, turning around in the passenger's seat to look at you in the back while you talked, all heart-eyes, reaching stuff you couldn’t on the high shelves. Or, when it was too high for him, Richie and his tree height would step in, seeking for you to hold your hand like he did all the time you were out that day.

Slowly your mind drifted away, let things fall to their places. Fully accepting what you were struggling to push away. You had a bond, the three of you. All splayed over the cushiony carpet in the living room at night, laughing about silly childhood stories of theirs that didn’t match the abnormal amount of electricity irradiating from everywhere, it was there. It was visible.

Under more of that cherry vodka you made the last day, you stopped trying to think rationally. Left your head empty and lowered your walls watching Eddie, laid down in front of you, laughing his ass off at some dumb joke that just slipped off Richie’s cherry stained lips. You moved from your spot resting against the armchair to lay on your stomach by Eddie’s side, feeling your head light. You were not dizzy. You were not drunk. You were pretty conscious and aware of him scooting closer while Richie left his cup aside to join both of you, squeezing you in between them. As always.

“...Do you remember, Eds?” he kept talking. “All of us in white briefs at the quarry…

“A bunch of fucking morons!” Eddie breathed through a laugh.

You snorted. “I will never believe you used to jump off a thirty feet cliff for fun.”

Richie rolled on his side, raising a brow at you. “Oi! Why?”

“Because you’re both pussies,” you cracked a half-smile.

“Hey, it was pretty good actually,” Eddie whispered, the dreamy trait in his voice sending goosebumps through your spine. “The anticipation, you know? It’s fear in the beginning and then, when you do it, it’s pure thrill and you wonder why didn’t you do it earlier. Why did you hesitate so much on jumping once at all.”

His eyes drifted from the ceiling straight into yours and the last piece fell to its place for you. Eddie gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and, when you leaned in for more of his touch, he cupped your cheek. His brown iris roamed to your lips and you felt the fear, felt the anticipation he was just talking about. You leaned in for your lips to overlap his lazily. Eddie propped up on an elbow, holding the back of your neck to pull you closer, his tongue hungry for yours like he was tasting the drink of you again.

“Oh, my-”

The low, husky ripple belonged to Richie, but you shut it in the middle when you left Eddie and immediately kissed him. He couldn’t hold himself. Overpowered you and you allowed him to. Let him roll on top of you so you were in between his gangly weight and the carpet, teeth clasping when he bit down your lips teasingly.

“Take it off..” You whispered breathless, tugging at his shirt.

“You sure, toots?” He pulled up a bit, making sure you were not carried away by the alcohol he tasted from your tongue. Your already paced heart felt like it could jump off your mouth under Richie’s ablaze gaze and you nodded.

What a mess it was when the clothes began to spread through the floor. When you pulled Eddie’s shirt up his head, kissing him before you could dive into Richie again and fumble with his jeans clasps as he tried to slide your shirt off. Eddie’s warm fingertips trailing up your spine made your skin shiver, while you pressed lovebites down Richie’s pale neck and he sighed sharply. You only became aware of what the Kaspbrak guy was doing when your bra loosened from you and he gently pushed the straps down your shoulders, kissing where it left you.

You relaxed under his touch right there, slotted in between them. Eddie’s chest pressed against your bare back, yours pressed against Richie’s and your legs around him. You couldn’t hold back the mewled sounds that left your lips when Eddie made his way up your neck, marking the skin. 

“You like it, don’t you, doll? Doesn’t seem like such a crazy idea anymore” 

Richie's hands took over your breasts, pinching your nipples, him chuckling at the way you whimpered. 

“Shut up, Richie…” heat gathered on your cheeks under his tease, getting worse when Eddie’s hand joined Richie’s, squeezing softly before they slid down your stomach, one dropping all the way into your shorts to find your underwear completely ruined. Instantly, your hands resting on his thighs clenched and so would your thighs do if his free hand didn’t stop it. 

“We work so well together, y/n/n.” He whispered into the shell of your ear, finger tracing up and down your clothed slit. “Richie and I… If you want to, we can take care of you so well, babe…”

He was teasing, making you buckle your hips greedy for more of his touch. 

Richie’s attention was glued on what happened in between your thighs, lips parted as he watched Eddie touching you.

“Do you want that, sweetheart?” He whispered. “Want me and Eds to take care of you?”

You could only nod, but that drove more mischievousness into this grin. “Use your big girl words, y/n/n.”

You knew you were utterly fucked. Amazingly utterly fucked.

“Yes, I do.”

That was when Eddie crossed the line. You felt him pulling aside the soaked fabric of your underwear, fingers meeting your core and making you moan when he traced circles over your clit. Richie detangled his legs from under yours and got up, kicking his jeans away with a frustrated grunt you understood immediately. He was straining in his boxers, kneeling in between your legs so he let both you and Eddie know what that was about. Eddie left you and stood up too, getting rid of the rest of his clothes.

“Think you can handle this, doll?” Richie dove forward, pressing kisses on your inner thighs as you leaned back on your elbows.

“Yes,” your voice barely came out, his nipping on your skin enough for you to clench around nothing.

“Good, because I missed tasting you. How I fucking missed it.” 

He groaned, fingers hooking around the waistline of your sleep shorts and panties together, pulling them off at once. Eddie cursed under his breath, kneeling by your side, hard length on his hand, pumping it slightly to the sight of Richie building his hidden purple marks on your thighs. Eyes running over your nudity laying in front of him.

His eyes met yours right when Richie licked the very first bold stripe up your core, and you moaned out loud for both of them. And he watched. Eddie paid acute attention to Richie eating you out and you found yourself memorizing the way he gnawed on his lips before scooting closer. You understood it immediately, parted your lips to take him.

“Fuck, y/n...” he groaned loud under how gently you lapped him from the base to the leaking tip, tongue swirling there before taking him into your mouth. That was the first time you heard Eddie moaning. Long, soft ones while he looked down at you, fingers brushing through your hair. 

Richie hummed against you, probably watching what you were doing to Eddie and his vibrations in its turn making you moan around Eddie, like a vicious cycle. A vicious cycle that soon enough had your thighs trembling, Richie’s hands pulling them spread apart. The tighter you felt the knot in your lower stomach growing, the more Richie curves his fingers up inside you, the more you hollow your cheeks around Eddie until he lets out a struggled sound and pulls away quickly, preventing himself from finishing in your mouth.

Just in time for you to look down at Richie while he makes you hit your high.

Your moans now weren’t muffled. They filled the room as you let yourself fall onto the cushions Eddie was laying on before the tables turned, arching your back under Richie’s tongue, making the boys look at you in awe.

“There you go, toots, there you go…” Richie soothed you through your high, his licks becoming sloppy. You still felt the electric waves through your body slowly fading away when Richie left you, and then there was a new warmth against your sensitive heat. 

You glared down to find Eddie in between your legs now, mouth attaching to you, barely giving you recovery time. 

The weak whimper got lost into your throat and Richie laid by your side, mouthing along your jawline as Eddie made you putty again. You tried hard to refrain the coil inside but you started to fall apart again, too fast, clenching more and more until he stopped. Eddie kneeled back up, smirking.

“Don’t cum yet, love,” His hands caressed your thighs, bringing them to wrap around his waist. “I want you to do it around me.”

Richie was pressed against your side and you kissed him like he was breathing air, his fogged glasses poking your nose. Suddenly the kiss turned into moaning and you turned your head to see Eddie pushing inside you. Slowly, giving you some time before pulling out and in again.

The feeling of Eddie filing you up was insane alone, but alongside his groans, Richie’s heavy breath against your cheek and the growing sound of skin against skin echoing it became a wildfire.

“You’re taking me so good, y/n/n,” Eddie cooed, his grip on your waist tighter and tighter. “Feeling so good around me this way”

And, as Eddie paced up, Richie’s hand snaked down to find where you were joint, fingers working on your oversensitive clit.

“She’s such a good girl isn’t she, Eds?” Richie muttered against your temple, side-eyeing the other boy. “Being such a good girl for us, y/n/n…”

Both their breaths hitched to the pornographic sounds you made, to how your cheeks were flustered and the shivered skin glistened. You didn’t see that coming, Eddie’s passionate roughness while he fucked you into the carpet, his fingers pressing marks on your waist, quickly making you cum a second time.

It was overwhelming. You could barely gasp for air while he still pounded into you through your peak, chasing his own that he didn’t take much to reach. You were sure Richie’s shoulder was ruined by your nails because you kept scratching him in pleasure, but he didn’t seem to care. 

Eddie was red, deep red, lips parted and cursing nonstop under his breath while he spilled deep in. But he looked handsome as hell, tilting his head back and still buried inside you. Smiling blissfully at you straight after. You couldn’t do other than pull him to lay fully on top of you and kiss him. Hungrily. How the fuck did you still have this thing inside? The need for them, it felt endless. 

Somehow Richie still had his boxers on, a tiny stain of precum there when you tugged at the waistband, as a silent beg for him to get rid. And as soon as Eddie slid out of you, he yanked you to roll over on top of him. 

“Come on, finish what we started yesterday,” he teased, hands grabbing handfuls of your hips and ass. 

Hands on Richie’s chest, you pushed up and straddled him. Eddie came closer, sitting right next to you, hand running up and down your thigh. Richie’s eyes alternated in between you and Eddie but he sewed them close as soon as you sank around him. Richie felt familiar in you, but you were far to get used to him enough to ignore the way he stretched you out. Eddie whistled lowly by your ear, chin resting on your shoulder, pressing a small kiss on your collarbone as you started to roll your hips.

Richie wasn’t as loud as Eddie. He was all about low, deep moans here and there, lips mutely parted most of the time. Your legs already felt like jello but the sight of him blushing in pleasure plus the dirty whispers Eddie was delivering to you made your riding start faltering too soon. Richie immediately propped up, resting a hand on the floor behind his back, an arm around your waist and he started to grind up against you.

“Damn, Richie, make her cum,” Eddie cried out, wrapping his arm around you just like Rich did. 

The Tozier boy chortled.

“I know you’ve done a lot tonight,” Richie rasped, pressing his forehead against yours. “But I know you can give me one more, right?”

“Yes, Rich, please…”

You had no idea what you were begging for, but you did. Over and over, feeling your head spinning into overstimulation until you shattered, clenching so tight Richie cried out loud, his hips stuttering. He came for you just like you came for him, wrapped in Eddie’s embrace, them both exchanging looks as Richie panted and you leaned against Eddie.

You stayed just like that until Richie stopped twitching inside you, until you stopped pulsing, Eddie kissing the top of your head. You were whacked and your eyelids felt too heavy when the three of you silently pulled away from each other.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as soon as you slid off Richie, laying down. Felt the soreness and the bliss. And the heat coming from both your sides. It wasn’t a mess anymore, you in between them. You acknowledged how perfectly you fit in there. Laying on Richie’s shoulder, Eddie cradling you, his heavy arm over your waist. You noticed how he had his hand resting on Richie’s stomach so naturally, their fingers touching. It felt right and you shared a comfortable silence for a while until Richie felt the urge to break it.

“I was talking serious shit.”

You hummed, “about what?”

“Us. I wasn’t talking just about sex, what’s a milestone for me,” he shrugged. “I was… We were talking about everything, y/n/n.”

You shifted, laying on your back so you could face both. Eddie looked sleepy and Richie was still red as a pepper, turning his head to look at you.

“We want to stay with you,” Eddie let out simply. “If you want to. We think it could work.”

You didn’t frown on it because you saw that coming. You agreed, smiling under Eddie’s expecting eyes and Richie’s surely blurred sight once he had taken his glasses off. 

“Yeah, I think it sounds good.”

[spnwriter]

I lied, apparently

Summary: The reader goes on a hunt alone despite the boys protests. She get his with a spell and, the boys help her out. 

Warnings: Language, Foursome, Oral (Female reviving) Unprotected sex, (Wrap it before you tap it) Anal, sexual harassment (Kinda), public masturbation, voyeurism, Dirty talk, 

A/N: as promised, this is the nastiest fic I’ve ever written. I hope you like it :)

Sam was right. He told me not to go on the hunt alone. Even though I had been hunting just as long as he has, he begged me not to go. I was stubborn. I broke the golden rule of hunting, never hunt alone. It was one witch. I hunted alone before I met the brothers. I didn't see a problem with it. Dean even protested the idea. Dean didn't argue with me as long as Sam did. Sam followed me around while I was packing. He felt the need to tell me all that could go wrong if I went alone. Before I left, I promised him that it would be perfectly fine. I promised him that I would come back in one piece and, not cursed.

I lied, apparently. Before I shot her, she threw purple powder at me. Whatever she threw at me hasn't affected me yet. I know it will eventually. I had planned on staying at the motel until whatever this is passes. Sam called. He didn't want to sound worried but, I could tell he was. Cas asked to talk to me. He told me to come home before the spell starts to take effect. He said he could sense my anxiety. I hear Sam cursing in the background. I knew I would get the I told you so. It was only a few hours drive from the motel. On the ride, I started to sweat. Like more than normal. I strip off my flannel as I drive. I suddenly regret the choice of wearing jeans. I blast the AC in attempts to cool off. Dear God, it's sweltering in here. I tied my hair up messily. I did whatever I could to cool off. I'm sweating threw my jeans. Why am I so hot? I groan as I try to crank the AC up. It's on full blast. I pull in front of the bunker. I need a change of clothes. I need a cold shower. I grab my bag before locking my door. I slowly walk down the stairs. Sam is waiting for me at the war room table. As soon as my boots hit the floor, Sam is on his feet. He wraps his arms around me tightly. "I was so worried. What happened?" He asks. "She hit me with something before I shot her. I'm fine, Sammy." I reassure. His hands move to rest on the small of my back. Arousal shoots down my spine. It's not unusual for me to be turned on by Sam. The massive secret (not so secret) crush on him. I push the thought out of my mind. "I knew you shouldn't have gone alone."  Sam utters. His grip tightens on me. The feeling of his hands on me feels better than normal. God, does he always smell this good? He lets go of me but, I don't let go. "Uh...Y/N?" Sam asks. I run my hands down his back. He's so muscular. How can someone have muscles on their back? My hand grazes the top of his ass. He flinches and, jumps away. Suddenly, I realize what I'm doing. "Oh God, Sam. I'm so sorry." I step closer without realizing it. It's like I'm craving his touch.My skin feels less on fire when he touches me. He grabs my hands to keep me from touching him. "Y/N? What's wrong?" Sam questions. "I don't know. I just need you." I whine. "Want to touch you."

Sam calls for Cas while he's fighting to keep me at arms length. Cas and, Dean come running from somewhere. I'm too focused on trying to touch Sam. I want to run my hands all over his body. "What the hell is happening?" Dean asks loudly. "She said she got hit with something." Sam explains while I try to move my hands to his crotch. He catches my hands. "Someone help me." Dean walks over. He picks me up under my thighs. I wrap my legs around his waist. My hands run down his back. I caress as much skin as I can. He sets me on the war table. My legs tighten around him. I run my hands through his short hair. "Hmmm. Have you always been this attractive?" I ask Dean as I nuzzle into his neck. My lips graze his pulse point as he physically unwraps my legs from around his waist. He jumps away from me. "What the fuck is wrong with her?" Dean turns to Cas. Cas steps between my parted legs. I grab him by his tie to pull him closer. Has his lips always looked this good? I bet they'd feel amazing on my skin. I pull him in for a kiss. He freezes at the action. He pulls back as quickly as he can. He takes a step back as he observes me. "She's been hit by sex pollen." Cas informs.

"Fantastic." Sam rolls his eyes. I whine as I reach out for Cas. "Please. I need it." I cry. The three of them exchange a look. "No." Sam exclaims "She can't consent. Her judgment is clouded."

I need someone to touch me. While the trio argues, I slip off my jeans. I have no shame as I begin rubbing myself from outside my panties. I moan as my fingers catch my clit. All three of them turn their heads to look at me. "Fuck." Dean whispers. I look at them as I put my hands into my panties. I whine as I slip in a finger. This is what I need. Dean steps closer but, still out of reach. "Sweetheart, you need to stop. I know you need it but-

I cut him off. "Dean, Please. Touch me." I moan. "I bet your fingers feel better than mine." I hear him groan. Obscene sounds fill the room as I continue to play with myself. It feels good. It's not enough. Dean stays grounded as he watches. I turn to the younger Winchester. "Sam." I moan loudly. "Please. Need you to touch me." His hands clenched into a fist. I can see both their resolve breaking.I look to the angle. He's already looking at me. He visibly swallows. "She does need it." Cas voices. I notice the obvious bulges in the boys pants. They all stay in place staring. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum." I announce. My back arches as I let go. The fire in my stomach didn't die down any. As I'm coming down from my high, I feel warm hands wrap around my waist. I get pulled into a hard body. Lips start nipping at the hollow of my throat. I don't care who it is. I just want someone to touch me. "So pretty when you cum, sweetheart." Deans breathy voice says. "Dean." I moan as his hands reach the edge of my tank top. He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. He's silently asking for consent. "Please. I whimper. He yanks the tank top off my body. I vaguely hear the sound of ripping fabric but, I don't care.  Dean reached behind me. He clips my bra with one hand. Fuck, if that ain't hot. "Always wanted to see what these beauties look like." Dean groans as my breast bounce free from the bra. He doesn't hesitate to take them in his hands. God, his hands feel amazing. He hasn't touched me yet. I feel sated already. I feel a second set of much larger hands run up my thigh. Dean takes that moment to suck my nipple into his mouth. I look to my right and, see Cas standing there. He slowly lowers his lips to the side of my neck. Dean moves to make room from him. "I want to taste you." Cas says in my ear.

"Yes." I answer quickly. This spell has reduced me to a bitch in heat. I don't care who's touching me. I want to be touched. Dean pulls me from the table. He presses himself behind me. He's holding me still while Cas gets on my knees. Cas runs his hands up my thighs teasingly. Has his eyes always been this beautiful? He nibbles at my hip. He gently slides my panties down my legs. He flings them behind him. I see Sam sitting in a chair where Cas had slung my underwear. Sam leans forward to grab them. He lifts them to his face and, inhales deeply. There's something so incredibly hot about the dirty action. Cas picks up my right thigh. He drapes my leg over his shoulder. "She's so wet." Cas moans. Dean reaches down from behind me. He dips his fingers into me. God, I was right. His fingers feel amazing. Dean brings his finger to his mouth. He sucks my slick off them. "Wet and, sweet." Dean hums in my ear.

Cas buried his head in between my thighs. He's nibbling lightly on my clit. He's using his long tongue to fuck me. He's sucking at my lips. When he pushes a single finger inside me I lose it. "Fuck, Cas." I yell as I cum. Dean's holding my still while I come down. His hands run down my sides. Cas is rubbing my thighs. "You okay, sweetheart?" Dean asks. He's asking if I'm up for more. I push my ass agianst his hard-on. He groans in my ear. "You want something?" Dean questions. He takes my ear lobe between his teeth. "Want you." I moan as he grinds his impressively big hard-on against me. He comes around to face me. He gives me the patented Dean smirk before he presses his lips to mine. His tongue caresses my mouth. Fuck, he's a good kisser. I didn't even notice him moving me back to the map table. He pulls away as I push his flannel off his shoulders. He pulls off his shirt as I unbutton his pants. I press kisses down his throat as he slips off his jeans. His length is resting on my lower stomach. Dean pulls back. He runs his cock through my slick. Who knew he was packing this much? Seven inches and, thick. "Cas," I whine at the angle. "Want you in my ass." The angle appears beside me completely naked. He has a bottle of lube in his hand. I don't even question it. Dean lifts me off the table. "Wrap your legs around me." Dean grunts. "Gonna fuck that pussy while Cas gets you ready for him."

Dean slowly pushes in. "Fuck, sweetheart. Maybe we should have opened you up. You're so fucking tight." Dean moans as he pulls back. The response I had died on my tongue as I feel Cas' fingers circle my tightest hole. I had only done anal once. It wasn't a pleasant experience. Somehow I trust Cas to make this feel good. Dean slowly pressing more of himself in me and, pulling back. I don't know what to focus on. The stretch of Dean's cock or the feeling of Cas' fingering my ass. Finally, Dean gets all the way in. He lets out a grunt at the feeling. "Shit. I'm not going to last long." Dean groans as he pulls back. Cas begins pressing into me from behind. "God, neither am I." I moan loudly. They work in perfect sync. Dean pulls out, Cas pushes in. I lean back against Cas. "Fuck, Dean. Right there." I whimper. He's perfectly hitting my g spot. "Yeah, you like my cock in you baby?" Dean asks. "Fucking love it." I respond. "You feel so good." I hear Cas say from behind me. Cas reaches around to thumb at my clit. "Are you getting close?" Cas asks in my ear. I nod unable to talk. It just feels so good. I moan loudly as my climax hits me. Dean groans into my neck. He bottoms out one last time before he cums. Cas grasps me from under my thighs.   "Where do you want me?" Cas asks with his voice wavering. "In me." I groan as Dean pulls out. I feel his release trickling down my thighs. "In your tight little ass or in you pretty little pussy?" Cas questions as he pull on my ear lobe. I've never heard the angle talk like that. Fuck, that's hot. " I don't care." Cas pulls out of my ass. He presses into my wetness. Shit, he's thicker than Dean. His length is shorter but, thicker. The stretch feels amazing. "Even after Dean fucked you, your still tight."

Cas thrusts three more times before he cums. He shouts my name as he releases. I've never felt so full before. Cas pulls away slowly. "Sam," I whine at the youngest Winchester. "Want you." "Look at that, Sammy. Our little cum slut wants you to." Dean taunts. Sam stands from his chair. His length is already out. Holy shit. He's fucking packing. Nine inches and, thicker than Castiel. He wraps his hand around it. He smirks as he sees me eyeing him. He picks me up effortlessly. He sets me back on the table. "You want this, baby?" Sam runs his tip through my lips. He stops to tease my clit. "Fuck. Please." I whine. "Not satisfied yet, are you?" "No, sir. Want your cock." Sam moans at the tittle. "Hm, you are a little cum slut. Aren't you?" He snickers. "Yes, Sir. Love being so full."

"I'm not going to last long." Sam warns as he slowly presses in. "Shit." I whine. He pauses. "Are you okay?" I nod frantically as I grab his hips to pull him closer. "So fucking big." "I'm not even in all the way yet." He groans as he bottoms out. "Shit. Such a tight little pussy." Sam moans in my ear. "Hm, maybe we need to fuck you lose." My response comes out as a loud gasp. Sam had pulled all the way out and, slammed back in.He pauses. My head thrown back. "You feel so good." He takes that as his cue. He continues his rough pace. The obscene sound of skin slapping skin fills the room. "You like it rough? Huh, baby?" "So good." "Yeah, you like my cock? Like having everyone fuck you like the whore you are?" "Yes. Fuck. Use me." "Yeah, you like being our little fuck toy?" I moan his name loudly as I climax for the final time tonight. Sam isn't far behind. "So fucking tight. So fucking wet. God." Sam groans as he slams into me one last time. I feel his release paint my walls. He rests on my chest while he catches his breath. Suddenly, I'm clear of the mind. The realization of what just happened hit me. Holy shit, I just slept with all of my friends. What does this mean? Will it affect our friendship? Sam slowly pulls out. He places a loving kiss on my lips. "Don't overthink." He whispers. Dean hands me his flannel to cover myself. Sam disappears into the kitchen. The pair get dressed quickly.Dean wraps his arms around me. "Don't worry, Y/N. This doesn't change anything." He whispers as he presses a gentle kiss on my cheek.

Cas takes Dean's place when he steps back. He runs his finger through my matted hair. "Dean's right. This doesn't affect your relationship at all." Cas kisses me on the side of the head. "I won't protest to a repeat performance." Dean smirks. "Keep it in your pants, Winchester." I joke. He laughs loudly. Sam comes back into the room. Dean and, Cas leave. Sam gently spreads my legs. He takes the damp, warm rag in his hands and, wipes away the mess between my legs. He's careful to avoid any sensitive areas. He sets the rag beside us. I reach out to grasp his flannel. I never did get him naked. That's something I would have loved to see. Of course, I like Sam. I think I may have ruined everything by sleeping with his brother while he watched. I don't know how I'm going to be able to look him in the eyes. Sleeping with Dean and, Cas didn't mean anything to me. I happened because I needed it. That stupid fucking spell may have just ruined my chances with the guy I'm in love with. He gently picks me up. He carries me bridal style to the bathroom. He sets me on the cold ground. "I thought you'd like a shower." He says while he rubs the back of his neck. Alright, now or never. Don't be a wimp. This maybe your only shot. I give Sam the most seductive look I can manage. I drop the flannel to the floor. He looks at me with wide eyes. "Why don't you join me?" I ask as I play with the hem of his shirt. "If that's what you want." He utters. "What I want is you." He looks at me with surprise on his face. "What?" "Before all of that...which we'll talk about later. I had feelings for you. I know I may have just messed that up back there but, I had to let you know. I felt like this was my only shot." He's silent. He's just looking down at me. "Sam. Say something, please." I beg. He grabs my hips and, pulls me into his hard chest. He dips down to capture my lips in a passionate kiss. He allows his tongue to roll with mine for a while before he pulls away. "You didn't ruin anything. If I'm honest, it was kinda hot." "Oh, someone likes watching." I tease "I like watching you." "Come watch me some more then."

[so-writing]

Dream Boy - Rafe Cameron x Reader x JJ Maybank (Outer Banks)

Summary: You are a pogue dating Rafe Cameron and, as expected, chaos ensues.

The last part of a small series, read Things You Never Show (1) and Time (2).

-

“Fine, I guess I’ll just go then.”

“Thanks, I’d like that.” 

“You’re welcome,” JJ’s tone was clipped as he stormed out of the room, the sound of your apartment door slamming moments later.

His declaration of love wasn’t expected, but you had to admit it felt good to be wanted by someone.

“I need to pass the fuck out,” you said to yourself as you unwrapped the blanket from your body and tossed it at the bed, “things might be clearer after a night of sleep.”

*

“You’re entirely too good for that rich bastard and he knows it.”

JJ’s words fell on deaf ears and your cheeks reddened slightly before smiling back at him. 

Rafe took your response positively, standing up and making his way over to you.

“Hey,” he almost cooed in your ear, “are you having a good night?”

“Yeah, yeah I am.” 

A million butterflies fluttered around in your stomach as you allowed him to lead you away from the pogues and over to his fire. Rafe spoke eloquently, and laughed heartily at the jokes his friends cracked, his arm around your shoulders the whole time. 

“Can I drive you home?”

“Sure,” you wrapped your arms around yourself in attempt to keep the goosebumps at bay. 

It had gotten pretty late and Rafe and his friends were the only ones left on the beach that night.

“You cold?”

Before you could respond, he pulled off his jacket and placed it around your shoulders, rubbing your arms over the fabric, “let’s get you home, yeah?”

*

The aggravating shriek of your alarm seemed louder than usual. You stretched your hand out to silence it but only managed to knock a picture frame and your water bottle off the bedside table. 

“Fucking fine,” you huffed and threw the blankets toward the bottom of the bed, “i’m up.” 

Your phone was dark, sitting innocently on the charger where you’d left it, but you knew that when you illuminated the screen, there would be hell to pay.

Rafe (7:41) good morning baby, I miss you

Rafe (8:03) We fought but you’re still my girlfriend

Rafe (8:34) You never sleep this late. Please just fucking talk to me. I need you. 

Rafe (9:02) Baby please, please talk to me

Rafe (9:41) Come to me when you’re ready, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need me to. I love you. 

Except, there wasn’t. 

You expected Rafe to fly off the fucking handle after being ignored for so long. Instead of getting angry, it seemed like he just got sad. Rafe Cameron wasn’t the type to wait for anyone, so it was astounding that he was willing to do it for you. 

Blinking a few times and taking a deep breath, you typed out a response to Rafe.

I’m sorry I’ve been unreachable. I’m dealing with some shit and I think we need to talk.

The phrase, ‘we need to talk’, was never good and you were sure Rafe knew that. You, once again, expected the worst but he responded instantly.

Rafe (11:41) Name the place and time, I’ll meet you there.

*

The speed limit on the roads of the Cut were set at 35 but you clocked 50 as you sped to the Chateau. You would meet with Rafe later but you needed to talk to JJ first. 

The pogues were seated around a fire with sodas in hand, it being too early to get out the harder stuff. John B and Sarah were cuddled up while Pope and Kie sat next to each other, exchanging glances. The blonde you were looking for was noticeably absent. 

“Where is JJ?” 

“Dude! Where have you been?” Pope jumped up from his chair, followed by the rest of the pogues, and they surrounded you, enveloping you in a hug. 

“I needed some time. JJ?” 

Sarah nodded her head in the direction of the water and you knew right away that he was on the dock attached to the land the Chateau sat on.

“JJ, are you here?” 

You knew he was, you could see him sitting at the edge of the dock, his blonde hair tame beneath the red hat he wore so often.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“I want to talk to you.”

“You do? You were really against talking to me last night so I’m kind of thrown off.” 

“Come on,” you dropped down next to him, “don’t be petty, J.”

Silence rose between the two of you, JJ dipping his bare toes in the water as you held back to keep your shoes from getting wet. 

“I love you too.”

“No you don’t,” he didn’t make eye contact, “you love Rafe.”

“I lied.” 

“I know that. It doesn’t matter, you don’t love me.”

You said nothing and that was confirmation enough for JJ. 

“I’m your best friend,” he wrapped an arm around you, “and that is all. I can live with that, I’m used to pining after all.

“You’re much more mature than Rafe would ever be in this situation.”

“Obviously. Rafe is a child but let’s not talk about him anymore.”

JJ pressed a kiss to your forehead and you leaned into him, giving a kiss to his cheek. 

“Wish me luck with this breakup, J.” 

“You don’t need luck. That asshole loves you, for good reason, and he’s going to be more hurt than angry. You need to be strong though. Read him the fucking riot act.” 

“Absolutely I will.”

*

“Rafe! Rafe! Where are you?”

You wandered around the beach looking for your boyfriend. He had disappeared about five minutes after a pretty touron introduced herself to him. 

“I’m here baby,” he slurred, not bothering to hide the purple marks on his neck.

“Can we leave, Rafe? I’m tired, both for myself and of the randoms constantly hitting on you.”

“Nah, babe. Let’s hang for a bit. Topper has a good series of pong happening soon and I can’t leave my boy hanging!”

“Fine.”

Your boyfriend all but sprinted away from you as he waved to his friends. A mixture of irritated and sad, you wandered down to the dock to get away from everyone and everything. It wasn’t long until you heard the dock creaking beneath someone’s footsteps coming toward you. 

“You know he treats you like shit, right?” 

*

Rafe was sitting on the steps of the front porch when you arrived at his place. He didn’t wait for you to put your car in park before he was running your way. 

“I missed you so much!” 

He wrapped his arms around your frame and lifted you up, spinning a few times. Rafe’s lips hit yours and you instantly lost control of yourself as you happily kissed him back.

“Baby girl I have missed you so much, and I know I fucked up. I’m so glad you’re here and that you’re forgiving me, I needed that.”

You’re forgiving me, I needed that.

A hollow laugh passed your lips as you pushed him away. 

“You needed me to forgive you? You needed me to do that? I was the one in the wrong? Really, Rafe?”

“No, no,” he stuttered, “I just thought you were over it because you were so cool about it. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know?”

The calm front you had planned to present was slowly dissipating and there was nothing you could do to stop it, you weren’t sure you wanted to.

“You didn’t know that I would be hurt if you cheated on me? You didn’t know that I wouldn’t be hurt if you ignored me? After all that you expect me to forgive you? Are you a fucking moron, Rafe? Are you that fucking careless that you didn’t see how much I love you and what I did for you? You can’t be so fucking dense that you didn’t acknowledge my feelings at all. Do better, asshole.”

Rafe said nothing, only looking down at the ground and uneasily shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, this means we’re done.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m a fucking piece of shit and I know that. I also know that there is no one better than you. There is no doing better than you. Please,” he begged, “please, I need you.”

His voice was soft and cracked a little at his second please. He didn’t come any closer, but he was looking at you now, his blue eyes pleading for what you both knew you could no longer give him. 

“I’m sorry,” you meant it, “The person I’m looking at now is not the person I fell in love with and I don’t think I’m enough to bring him back.” 

“No,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, “don’t say that. You have always been enough, I’ve just been too stupid to realize it.”

The both of you fought the urge to cry, you wrapping your arms around yourself and shrugging your shoulders while Rafe pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, red eyes trying to blink away the tears that he was sure would come once you had left. 

“I should go.” 

“Yeah.. yeah.” 

Turning away from him, you wiped a stray tear that managed to escape and headed back down the driveway.

“Hey,” he hadn’t moved from where he was standing, “I know this is out of line, but, please don’t start dating him, at least not publicly.”

“That was never going to happen.” 

“Good,” a small smile tugged at his lips as he watched you turn around and get into your car, leaving his home for what he knew would be the last time. 

Unless he could get his shit together and do better.

-

tags: @lcil123 @bibliophilewednesday

[hainethehero]

BILLY BREAKS THINGS OFF WITH STEVE...

A big grin breaks Steve's face in two, glowing through his cheeks like a beautiful sunrise or something. He can hear the sound of Billy's Camaro rumbling to a stop in his front yard. His skin breaks out in goosebumps and his heart beats wildly, like an animal trapped in a cage.

It was movie night.

Nothing special, since they've been having nights like these since last Christmas. But tonight was different. Call him a stupid girl obsessing over shit that he shouldn't- but he really couldn't. Not after they'd done the Devil's tango for the first time about two days ago. Of course Billy had gone AWOL after that but he'd called earlier today... said he wanted to talk. It's been the only thing Steve could think about since that time... - that and the fact that he'd had sex with Billy for the first time! He stays replaying all the sounds and tastes in his head over and over again like a reel. He hoped to God that it had been as special for Billy as it had been for him.

His insides still felt soft, sore and mushy from where Billy had pounded into him, thighs burning with every movement of his legs. His pale hips sported several deep, purple, finger-shaped bruises and there were dark hickies colouring his alabaster neck like watercolours. And if he thought about it real hard, he could still feel Billy's hands in his hair, pulling and tugging and fucking yanking on it as he thrust into his tight hole.

God, he thinks, chastising himself for being so horny.

Get a grip Steve! Desperation was never a good look, on anyone.

Billy's suddenly at his front door, not even bothering to knock. No.

He just stands there looking all majestic and super chill in his aviators and leather jacket. Steve pulls the door open with shaky hands and just takes in the eyeful of glorious golden skin and Californian blue eyes. His heart flutters stupidly in his chest and Steve glares down at himself as if to berate his own goddamn heart. His cheeks become inflamed as Billy brushes past him, woodsy cologne filling Steve's senses. He tightens up involuntarily at the scent and slowly closes the door, biting at his lip with a nervous smile.

"H- hey," he mutters dumbly, craving the idea of rushing into Billy's arms but somehow restraining himself.

The blonde simply gazes at him; a kind of heat in his heavily hooded eyes. He's got on a white t-shirt under that black leather jacket, cotton pulled taut across his broad chest. God, Steve is going insane every minute his face isn't buried in Billy's chest. That's his safe place... and that white t-shirt is one of his favorites.

"We need to talk," Billy tells him in that raspy, low and smoky tone.

Steve goes molten between the legs and his heart does some weird kind of flip inside him. How the hell did Billy have so much control over his mind and body? Was that what sex with another guy was like? Or was this just a Billy thing? Because Steve has tasted the blonde once already- literally- ...and he wanted more.

"Yeah, we can," he nods with a grin, "but can we do it in my room? It's already warm in there and out here's like, freezing so-"

"Out here is fine," Billy interrupts, mouth drawn in a tight line and haw clenched tightly.

It's the first indication that maybe this was very serious and Steve hadn't noticed because he was too busy thinking about getting dicked down again.

"Wh- ...what's wrong?"

Billy stares at him, thick brows drawing over his darkened eyes. "I can't do this."

Oh God, Steve's gonna have an aneurysm.

"What?"

He forces himself to keep his cool, to not instantly turn into some crying, shaking mess that just wants to go down on his knees and beg the other boy to stay. He keeps repeating in his head that it's all just some sick fucking joke on Billy's part and offers the blonde a pained grin but his heart falters when Billy's expression doesn't change.

"Bill-"

"I'm leaving town. Tonight."

Steve feels the breath get knocked out of him and this time he takes a quick step forward. "Billy what's going on-??"

Billy takes a step back, growling. "I just told you, I'm leaving."

"That's not- ...What happened? Why are you leaving? Was it your Dad?"

"It wasn't my fucking Dad-"

"Well then tell me!"

"Tell you what?!" Billy shouts, getting in Steve's face now, a deep rumble in the back of his throat.

"Why are you leaving? Why now?" Steve snaps, the pit of his stomach hollowing itself. He's so fucking scared and hurt right now but all he can feel is the hot and cold running all over his damp skin. Hot tears prickle and sting his eyes but he doesn't dare blink for fear of missing Billy for too long.

"Harrington-"

"No!" Steve screams, "You tell me why you're suddenly moving out of Hawkins! Tell me why! Tell- wait, is it because of me?"

Something in Billy's expression shifts and he looks away, cursing under his breath, fists clenched hard.

"It's not you, don't flatter yourself Harrington."

And that particular statement puts Steve on notice. This couldn't have been Billy talking. His Dad maybe but he'd stopped calling him Harrington whenever they argued. Apparently it sounded too impersonal and not intimate at all. Which is the opposite of how Billy had been cooing and whispering his name the night they'd had sex. He'd even made sure to hold Steve through the worst of his first time, asking him gently whether or not he should pull out, or if he wasn't ready.

A tear slips down his cheek at the now sour memory.

"Then what was it? Is this town too small for you, Mr California? Not enough clueless hick town boys for you to fuck huh?"

Billy takes a menacing step forward and grabs him by the neck. "You're awfully close but no dice, " he snarls, "Unlike you, I actually got into college, so, I'm leaving. You think I want to stay stuck in this backwater town with some nobody who slings ice-cream for a living?"

Steve fights the strong grip, breaking it and taking a heaving step back, shudders wracking through his body. His breath comes out ragged, and pulls back in with a sob.

"What are you saying?" he mutters softly, too afraid to shout or even get angry, because that'll only make Billy leave faster. It always makes them leave.

Billy grunts, "Jesus Christ you want me to spell it out for you? I'm done, Harrington. We're done."

But Steve shakes his head, tears already falling silently from his eyes. His goddamn heart was in his throat.

"You can't do this..." he chokes, feeling sick to his stomach.

"Why can't I?" Billy growls, his face dry and emotionless.

"Because we-" Steve hisses but is cut off by an unexpected cry. He didn't have the strength to say those words right now- couldn't.

Too bad Billy had caught on anyway. "Because we what? Had sex a few days ago? Jesus Harrington, didn't take you for such a pussy. It was just a mindless fuck, didn't think you'd take it to heart. I'm not actually some fucking faggot like you."

Steve shakes his head, "Why are you doing this to me?" he sobs, feeling utterly betrayed.

Every part of his body felt betrayed right now- every single part of him that he'd let Billy touch, kiss and sink his teeth into. A sharp pain stabs him in the chest and then slowly sinks in all the way to his gut. It feels permanent, yet somehow like a terrible dream that he can't seem to wake up from.

Billy turns to leave and he doesn't have the strength to hold him back. Just watches him go through blurry eyes, body shaking with the massive effort it takes to keep from falling to his knees.

"Wheeler was right about you; you're bullshit Harrington."

Steve's knees only hit the floor when the Camaro rumbles off into the distance.

...............

Hardened blue eyes glare back at him from the rearview mirror.

The only sense of accomplishment he felt was that he'd finally put some distance between the monster in his head, and the one thing he loved more than life itself.

[sideofmango]

“That Time We Got Stuck in a Cave”

Pairings: Aged Up! Astronaut Bakugou x Aged up! Fem! Astronaut Reader Pronouns: she/her Warnings: slight violence (a small crash happens but it is mentioned briefly), minor injury referenced (but not in detail), cursing

Three Things Before You Start Reading:

There’s no adult/suggestive content in this post, I aged them up because it seemed kinda weird to have 15/16 year old children traveling alone throughout space. I made them early 20s in this.

Also, the reader is half alien and half human, so basically (y/n) looks human with sharp teeth and white eyes (it’s part of the quirk basically).

Thanks to Marie (@dailydoseofscenarios) for creating this event and involving me! Can’t wait for the next one <3

If you are interested in seeing more work from this event, you can click here.

The girl huffed, tossing the wrench on the floor beside her before standing up and wiping her dirty hands onto her dark blue and white coveralls, the sleeves tied around her waist and a white tank top tucked into the pants. “Stupid fucking pod.” She grumbled, kicking the giant hunk of shining metal with the toe of her industrial boot.

“Try not to damage it more, (y/n).” Kaminari teased with a laugh, holding out his hand with a bag of candy in it. The girl nodded in thanks before taking some of the candy in her freshly cleaned hand. “What’s the issue? The circuit board still acting up?” The electric blonde took a seat near the tools the girl had laying around, looking at the pod and the exposed circuit board on of the machine. 

“I don’t get why it’s not working?! The updates on the others weren’t this fucking hard!” The girl threw her hands up exasperatedly, glaring at the inanimate object.

“Did you try your lazers? It’s just for the inside panel right? Or is it the doors again?” Kirishima appeared, his red eyes looking over the mess from where he stood in the doorway to the vehicle bay.

“I forgot about that! Kiri, you’re a genius!” (y/n) smiled widely revealing her sharp teeth, throwing a set of protective eye goggles at Kirishima and Kaminari, the blonde slipping his on before going back to eating his candy.

Kirishima walked over to where the blonde sat, outstretching his hand as Denki poured some of the candy into his hand before they both watched the girl slip a pair of heat resistant gloves onto her hands as she looked at the broken door, her white eyes glowing as a matching white laser shot from her eyes, hitting the door.

“Is it working?” Kirishima called out as the girl paused her lasers, going closer to the door to see if it was working they way she wanted it to. 

“Yeah, I think so!” (Y/n) called back. “Kiri can you come help me hold this up?” Kirishima nodded, getting up and lifting the heavy door to its correct position. He held it there for a moment as the hot metal cooled, the hinges no longer glowing orange as he released his hold on it. “Thanks Kiri! That’s perfect.”

“No problem.” The redhead smiled, pushing up the sleeves of his dark navy coveralls.

“Come on electric boy, you’re up.” (Y/n) waved over Denki as he begrudgingly sat his candy bag down, walking over to the pod’s newly placed circuit board. 

“Don’t touch my candy Kirishima!” Denki narrowed his eyes at the boy, who paused, eyes wide at being caught eating from the bag. Denki pointed his pointer finger at the circuit board, a small bolt of electricity hitting the board as the pod whirled to life. 

“Did it work? Is it fixed?” The boys asked, looking curiously at the girl who stood with a small proud smile on her face.

“I’ll have to take it out for a test run, but it should be fine now.” She answered with a definitive nod. “Can you tell Ka-Bakugou that I’ll be taking it for a test flight?”

“First name basis huh?” Kaminari elbowed the girl, his eyebrows wiggling up and down as the smirk grew on his face.

“Fuck off and go tell him!” The average height girl laughed, ruffling Denki’s hair before pushing him towards the door.

“Ok...Captain Fucker.” Kirishima teased before the boys ran down the hall laughing loudly as the girl rolled her eyes pointing her middle fingers in the direction they ran off in. 

“Alright, let’s see how this thing runs.” (y/n) mumbles to herself as she gears up, placing the airtight helmet on her head before clicking it into place as she stepped into the airlock. “Alright Sero, you can open Gate 3D.” She said into the comm system, as she turned the pod on and warmed up the engine.

“Copy that.” Sero responded, clicking the button from his control panel as the large door opened into the vast blackness that was open space. “So, I heard...you and the Captain, huh?” Sero asked after a moment of silence as the girl rolled her eyes with a groan.

“I’m gonna kill those two.” The girl laughed as she pressed a few button on the control panel of the pod, glancing over the readings on the screen all of them lighting up green. “Alright Sero, I’m disconnecting the tether now.”

“Copy that. Tether disconnected. What are your readings?”

“Everything’s at 100% and fully operational.” (y/n) replies with a smile, proud of her handiwork. A moment passed before the readings began flashing red, before the pod went dark the control panel no longer lighting up as the girl could only watch as the ship drifted from the main ship and towards the large purple planet nearby, the small pod getting brought down by the planet’s gravitational pull.

“Sero?” (y/n) called into the comms, but got no response. “Sero can you hear me?” The girl switched the channels, stopping on the personal channel she had with their captain.

“Shit!” (y/n) yelled as the pod spun, dropping to the surface before skidding to a stop, the girl’s head hitting against the side of the chair making a small crack in her helmet. “Fuck.” She mumbled to herself after sitting still for a moment, gathering her bearings before she had to exit the pod to survey the damage. 

“Can...hear?” Her comms began cutting out, but she had gotten a response and that was all that mattered. 

“Bakugou?!” (y/n) called into the comms again, releasing the button to see if she was going to get another response. The silence was deafening as her hope began to dwindle. She was stuck on a deserted exo-planet without a working comm system or a working craft, not to mention whatever else lived on the planet. “Fuck!” (y/n) got out of the beaten up pod, her white eyes growing teary as she saw the level of damage. “There’s no way it’s flyable and I don’t think I have enough tools to repair it.”

(y/n) looked to the lavender sky, a group of dark purple clouds gathering as aa lightening bolt crackled from the clouds. A shining black craft caught her attention as it landed on the other side of a valley, the girl standing on a small hill to see the door open and the black and orange suit that belonged to Bakugou Katsuki.

“Katsuki? Can you hear me? Is this goddamn piece of shit comm working?” (y/n) said angrily as she watched his small figure across the ravine. 

“I can hear you Shitty Girl.” Bakugou said with a small laugh. “Are you hurt?”

“No just the piece of shit pod. I wrote 10 fucking complaints to the UAIGSS and Commander Nezu and I haven’t gotten one response! NOT ONE! I knew those things were defective!”

“You can rant later, Shitty Girl. We’ve gotta find somewhere to wait out this storm. I don’t like the look of those clouds.” Bakugou cut the girl off, warily looking towards the horizon before grabbing two large packs from the pod before looking for a way to get to her.

“Alright. I can see a covered landing over there. It might even be a cave.” (y/n) said pointing in the other direction as her eyes glanced over the barren and deserted landscape. A thin layer of fog covered the ground in the horizon, making it hard to see the terrain. 

A group of fire destroyed trees sat in the barren and cracked lavender soil, sharp rock structures sticking up in strange ways around them. The sound of thunder caught the pair’s attention as Bakugou handed the girl the large pack she had failed to take when she had originally went out. 

“Thanks.” (y/n) smiled. “Let’s go, I guess.” She let out a sigh as they decided on a way to get to the cave (y/n) had spotted earlier.

“The atmosphere of this stupid planet is negatively charged so it blew out your engine...mine’s shot too. I told Mina and Kirishima to wait until it passes to land the ship.”

“Wouldn’t the ship be fucked then?” (y/n) wondered, the pair sitting down in the cave opening as the clouds blocked out the sun and loud claps of thunder echoed. Rain poured from the sky in sheets as the wind picked up slightly, the burned and hollow trees shaking in the wind like paper.

“No. I had Hatsume upgrade the engines so they should be fine.” Bakugou shrugged. “How’s your oxygen filter?”

“It’s fine. You?”

“Good.” He mumbled back. A moment of silence passed before he let out a breath, leaning back against the rock wall of the cave. “You don’t think there’s any crazy animals around here, right?”

“Not sure. My ship wasn’t able to do a full scan of the planet before it was fried.” (y/n) mumbled.

“I didn’t run a scan, I was distracted.” Bakugou rolled his eyes, upset with himself.

“Distracted?” (y/n) repeated. “Was it because you were thinking about little old me?” (y/n) teased as the explosive blonde’s cheeks flushed lightly, a scoff leaving his lips.

“Shut up.” He responded defensively, though that was enough of an answer to tell the girl she was right.

“Kiri, Kami, and Sero found out...it’s only a matter of time before Mina does too...” (y/n) laughed lightly, her eyes looking out at the rain, a soft smile on her face.

“So basically, a short amount of time before the whole UAIGSS knows?” Bakugou scoffed as he put his arm around the girl a laugh bubbling from his lips before he let out a sigh.

“You don’t think we’ll get in trouble do you? It’s technically a breach of the rules for members to be engaged in a romantic relationship.”

“Fuck that...people do it all the time.” Bakugou thought for a minute. “Todoroki and Shitty Deku...”

“Are gonna keep calling him that? Didn’t you start that in flight school?” She cut him off a gleam in her eyes as she looked over his face.

“Even before that.” He admitted sheepishly. “Anyways, Commander Aizawa and Commander Yamada...” Bakugou rattled off as the girl’s eyes widened.

“Present Mic and Aizawa?! They finally got together?” 

“Present Mic?”

“Yeah, that’s what they call him.” The girl shrugged. “How’d you hear about all of this stuff anyway?”

“Captain’s quarters at the UAIGSS...shit gets wild.” Bakugou shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe you’ll be able to go next time...I heard that Nezu’s been thinking about promoting you to Co-Captain...of course you’d be my co-captain.”

“Oh of course.” (y/n) said back sarcastically as they both laughed, Bakugou nudging his girlfriend’s arm with his own. 

Their laughing died down when the faint sound of a hiss caused a chill to run up their spines and their eyes to widen as they looked between each other and behind them.

“What the fuck was that?” (y/n) screeched trying to keep her voice quiet as they both hopped up and Bakugou got into fighting stance beside her.

“Do you really want that question answered?!” Bakugou fired back.

Tags:

[vexing-imogen]

the persistence of 5/?

read from beginning | read on ao3

It’s well past dawn when Vex finally wakes, far later than she usually sleeps. It’s Percy’s doing, she’s sure of it, and she’s grateful for it. The pounding headache from yesterday has lessened to a dull ache and she no longer feels so dreadfully nauseous. She’s alone in the room, but she can hear Percy and Keyleth’s voices drifting up the stairs.

She dresses quickly, favoring a tunic and leggings over any of the fancy dresses in her wardrobe. (And it’s still so hard to believe that any of this is actually hers. Even the simple clothes she’s wearing are nicer than anything she remembers owning since Syngorn.) She moves to the vanity to attempt to wrangle her hair, but she’s distracted by the myriad of letters that are strewn across the surface.

The first one she examines is from someone named Zahra. They’re mildly flirtatious, they call her darling or dearest every other paragraph, and they practically beg her to come visit as soon as possible. She feels the urge to agree, despite having no knowledge of this person.

She moves on to the small stack of letters all from Velora. The most recent one speaks of their father, and how he’s all but given her permission to come stay in Whitestone for the summer. Her penmanship suffers for her excitement, her adolescent cursive almost unreadable in places. Her tone grows more solemn towards the end of the letter, where she admits that Syldor refuses to speak to her about Vax, and would Vex mind terribly telling her some stories about their brother?

Most shocking of all, there are letters from Syldor, too. They’re stiff and awkward, as if he doesn’t know what to say to her beyond the expected pleasantries. He tells her of Velora and Devanna, asks after Percy and Vesper, and occasionally someone called Cassandra. (Percy’s sister? Is she remembering that right?) He even asks after Trinket once. But nowhere in any of his letters does he ask after...

“Vex’ahlia?”

She jumps at the sound of Percy’s voice, her hand flying to her chest, and sees him wince in the mirror.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You’re fine,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t hear you come in. Lost in thought, I guess.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

She half turns in her chair, holds up the letter she’d been reading. “I’m on speaking terms with my father?”

“Ah, yes, that.” He hesitates. “It’s...complicated. I don’t particularly like him, and there are some days where I don’t think you do either, but you’re both trying?”

“I see,” she mutters, though she really doesn’t.

He comes up beside her, reaches for her hairbrush. “Would you like some help with that, dear?” he asks, gesturing to the wild mess her hair always is in the mornings.

He’s trying to change the subject, and she lets him. For now. “You know how to braid hair?”

Percy nods, starts to gently brush the tangles out. “Vax taught me,” he explains. “When you and I first started a relationship. He was leaving, and he wanted to make sure I could take care of you.”

She lets him work in silence for a while before she brings it up. “He never mentions Vax.” Their eyes meet in the mirror. “My father. He never asks about him or sends a message along for him. Velora says he refuses to speak of him.”

Percy sighs, his eyes dropping back to her hair. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Vex frowns, trying to puzzle it out. “Vax doesn’t speak to our father.”

“No.”

“But I do?” He nods. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

He sighs again. “I know.”

There’s something she’s missing, she can feel it. Some piece of the puzzle that would make all of this make sense, if only she could remember. She growls, and Percy pauses in tying off her braid.

“What’s wrong?”

She almost laughs, because it’s such a pointless question. “I just want this fixed.”

There’s a commotion downstairs that can only be Grog and Scanlan. Percy gives her a tense smile. “Well, here’s your chance.”

They keep eye contact in the mirror for just a minute longer, neither of them willing to voice what they’re both thinking.

What if this doesn’t work?

=============================================================

They find Pike and the others gathered in the parlor. There’s an energy buzzing in the air, anxious anticipation. Vex can barely hear her friends greetings over her heartbeat, sounding like a drum in her ears. Pike is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a pouch of diamond dust open in front of her.

Pike smiles up at her, pats the floor, indicating for her to sit. Once she does, Pike moves up onto her knees and cradles Vex’s face in her hands. “Are you ready?”

She’s not. She’s really not. She’s scared, and she isn’t sure what scares her more; remembering nothing or remembering everything. But she can’t say that. Not here, with everyone watching her, waiting for her to make what should be the easiest decision in the world.

She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and focuses on Pike’s hands, gentle and cool against her skin. “Ready.”

She hears Pike mutter the incantation, feels her palms grow hot as the magical energy flows through them. She can even feel the magic flowing into her mind, probing gently, searching for something to latch onto so it can clear whatever blockage is there and start to heal her. It probes again, a little more insistently, and if magic could have emotions, she’d say it was frustrated.

Pike curses under her breath, and Vex’s heart sinks. Thankfully, Scanlan asks the question so she doesn’t have to.

“Pikey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know!” There’s an edge to her voice, a hint of panic that sends a chill down Vex’s spine. “It’s not working.”

“What do you mean, it’s not working?” Percy demands.

“I don’t know, Percy!” Pike yells, sounding as close to tears as Vex has ever heard her. “The spell should be working, but it’s not, and I don’t know why.”

Vex opens her eyes, fighting back a whimper when she sees her friend’s tear-stained face. “Pike?”

The gnome takes a deep breath, steadies herself, then reaches out for Vex again, her expression determined. “I’m gonna try again, okay?”

Vex nods, sending up a silent prayer to whichever god might be listening. Please let this work. I get it, I know what’s worse, now. I want to remember.

There’s a moment where she thinks it’s working. The magic snags onto something, like a sweater on a loose nail. But just as she thinks it’s about to unravel, the thread snaps.

“Damnit!” Pike rocks back on her heels, composes herself. “I’m gonna try one more time, Vex. We’re so close.”

She doesn’t fight it, lets Pike try the spell again, but she knows deep down it won’t work. And, sure enough, it fails again, the magic scrabbling to find purchase on anything before it finally withdraws from her mind.

“Pike.” Her voice is hollow, defeated. She can barely see through the tears that are falling. “Darling, I don’t think it’s going to work.”

Pike lets out a noise somewhere between a scream and a wail. “I’m sorry, Vex,” she sobs. “I’m so sorry.” She runs from the room, and a few moments later they hear the door slam behind her.

“Should we...” Grog starts.

Scanlan cuts him off. “I’ll go.” He pauses at Vex’s side before he leaves, but he says nothing. He squeezes her shoulder, then follows Pike out of the house.

The only noise in the room for the next several minutes is Percy pacing and Vex’s quiet sobs. Keyleth finally breaks the silence timidly.

“Vex? Do you want me to try?”

She shakes her head, wiping away her tears. Her gaze drifts to the front door. “I think I need some air.”

=============================================================

Pike runs until she’s exhausted, gasping for air, struggling to stay upright. She’s out of the city, that much she knows. In the Parchwood she realizes when she finally falls to her hands and knees. She punches the ground once, twice for good measure, screaming her frustration into the mid-morning air.

A cluster of startled birds draws her attention to the tree in front of her; solid and sturdy, and probably much more satisfying to hit than the dirt. She wishes she had her gauntlets with her, but they’re back in Westruun with her good armor. She pushes herself to her feet and lets out another wordless scream.

She punches the tree once. Twice. Three times. Each one punctuated with a cry of frustration. She feels something pop in her hand on the fourth punch, and then a sickening crunch on the fifth. She doesn’t bother looking at the mess she’s made of her hand, just casts a quick cure wounds and screams to the heavens.

“Why didn’t it work?”

She finds a good sized rock on the ground and chucks it across the clearing, screaming again. It breaks a branch off of a small tree with a satisfying snap.

“It was supposed to work!”

She goes to punch the tree again, but something stops her hand before it can make contact. A small, purple hand, Scanlan’s mage hand to be precise, is providing a cushion between her fist and the tree.

“Pikey...”

She swallows hard, turns to face him with tears streaming down her face, and bruised, bloodied knuckles. She hiccups. “It was supposed to heal her, Scanlan.” Her voice breaks on his name, and she’s sinking to the ground sobbing.

He holds her gently as she falls apart on the forest floor. He’s mostly silent, content to rub her back, stroke her hair, press the occasional kiss to her temple. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs once she’s mostly cried herself out.

She sniffles. “How?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Have you tried asking Sarenrae?”

“No,” she says sullenly. “I kind of just screamed at her.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure she understands.”

She smiles sheepishly. “Enough for me to try a divine intervention, you think?”

“It couldn’t hurt.” He stands, kisses her on the forehead. “I’ll meet you back at Casa de Rolo. I have an idea that I want to run by Percy.”

She watches him go with a small smile, then settles herself in to meditate and pray.

Sarenrae, if you’re there, if you’re still listening. I need your help. Vex needs your help.

The clouds break, and a sunbeam shines directly down on Pike. She hears her goddess’s voice, warm and gentle in her mind.

What can I do for you, my child?

My friend Vex lost a chunk of her memories, and my magic can’t bring them back. I need you to heal her.

I’m afraid I can’t do that, Pike.

What? Why not?

Memories are not part of my domain. I cannot restore your friend’s memories to her, but I know the one who can. If you trust me, I can direct your path.

What do I have to do?

[yugyummygot7reactions]

Behind the Curtain - 5

| Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | Epilogue |  

Updates are Sundays at 5pm PST!

Characters: Yugyeom x You

Genre: Smut

Warning(s): Pegging

Word Count: 2,576

“Okay,” you could feel him drifting off into dreamland. “Don’t forget that we have to meet with Yugyeom at 8am.”

Yet another meeting you forgot about. This whole week has you thrown off your normal game.

The next morning you awoke to an empty bed. You hoped that Bam Bam would still be there, there would have been plenty of time for a quickie and some cuddles before starting the day. You looked around the room and it was as if he had never been there, even the food tray he brought last night was gone. If it weren’t for the faint lingering smell of his cologne on your pillow, you would have thought it was all a dream.

You looked at your phone and saw you had an hour before meeting with Yugyeom. You jumped into the shower and threw on your sleek black office dress, black stilettos, and a red lip. You knew that Yugyeom was a sucker for simple clothes and a bold accent. 

You walk into his favorite interrogation room and find him wiping down the table and chairs.

“You made it!” He said with a bright smile lighting up his face. He was always so innocently excited to see you. For someone in charge of getting information out of prisoners using dark methods, he was the most cheerful person you’d ever met. 

“Where’s Bam?” You asked as you sat on the edge of the table, crossing you legs in a casually seductive way. 

“Ah he...” Yugyeom scratched the back of his neck nervously, you could tell he was thinking of a lie, “he said he had an offsite job today and that you could handle the planning. I can fill him in later.” You just nodded and smiled. You knew there was more to Bam’s absence, but pushing it wouldn’t help you right now. 

“So what do we need to plan?” You switched your legs around slowly, pulling Yugyeom’s eyes down, hoping he caught a glimpse of the lingerie underneath your dress that matched your lipstick.

“We just need to figure out if we need any more supplies before the raid. I’m good down here on toxins and weapons. I keep everything overstocked just in case an interrogation doesn’t go as planned. How’s Bam’s department?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He spent more time in the weapons storage and chem lab than in his own wing. 

“We are well stocked on weapons, maybe even overstocked. We might need to go through and check on some of the toxins in the lab. Bam has been experimenting more lately and I’m not sure how much he is using with each test. He is usually pretty good about letting me know when I need to go on a supply run though, so I think we’re fine.” Yugyeom nodded in response.

“Cool, meeting adjourned?” he laughed as he shrugged and moved to sit next to you on the table. He jokingly bumped you with his shoulder and smiled nervously. 

“Is there something on your mind?” You asked as you leaned back on your arm, putting your chest on full display for Yugyeom.

“I had something of a more...personal manner to ask you,” he said, blushing and biting his lip, fidgeting a bit. 

“I’m all ears, you know you can talk to me about anything.” You gently smiled at him. You often forget how bashful the youngest leader is. He is the tallest by far and his interrogations have the scariest energy you’ve ever encountered, but you are reminded here that he is still so young and that outside of his work he is a giant teddy bear.

“Jaebeom hyung is scared that we won’t all make it out of this raid alive,” He said, his voice shaking a bit, “There’s something I want to do before I die,” he looked deep into your eyes and you could see the worry and sorrow buried deep behind his normally tough facade, “Can I... I mean... Can we...” For someone whose job is questioning others, he was really fumbling here. “I want to have sex in the interrogation room,” He finally spit out quickly, “and I want to do it with you.” His anxiety was radiating off of him as he watched your face for a reaction.

Hook. Line. and Sinker. 

Instead of answering him with words, you grab the front of his shirt and pull him towards you, crashing your lips into his. His hands frantically reach for your hips, pulling you into his lap so you could straddle him. Within moments you can feel his growing erection rubbing at your barely clothed core. He was so eager. 

The kisses got a bit messier and he moved to sucking and licking at your neck as he lifted up you off of his lap for a moment while he undid his pants and let his cock spring free. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized in between kisses as he reached to move your panties out of the way, “I just can’t wait even a moment longer to feel you.” 

He lined himself up and pulled you down quickly onto his dick, causing a moan to escape your lips. His pace was relentless. He was thrusting and bouncing you up and down, hitting you deeper than you thought he could. The sweat was resting on his prominent brow and his moans were echoing through the tiled room as he refused to let up. The friction of the edge of your panties rubbing your clit with each thrust was pulling you close to your release and you could tell from Yugyeom’s breathing and movements that he was close too.

“I’m gonna cum,” You whispered into his ear as he thrusted harder, making sure you would get there. His name fell off of your lips as he pushed you over the edge, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Oh shit,” he breathed out roughly, “Y/N,” he was helping you ride out your orgasm, “I’m - I’m cumming.” 

“Not inside,” You mildly panicked, “I’m not on the pill and we aren’t using protection.” 

Your words made his eyes go wide and he practically threw you off of him as his seed exploded onto his lap and the table around you. 

You kissed him, grabbing his cock in your hand and helping him ride out his high. His kisses were still so needy and his cock wasn’t losing any hardness. 

He pulled back for air and was admiring you for what felt like for a long time before you made a move. 

“Let me grab some towels, I can clean y-”

“Not yet!” He practically yelled at you as he pulled you back to him. “Can we try one more thing?” He was still breathing heavily, cock still at full attention. 

You were a bit nervous to say yes after seeing what some of his colleagues were into, but you couldn’t say no. You needed to see more to know if he was light or dark. You just nodded as he jumped off of the table and moved over to his tool chest in the corner. He kept his torture devices and tools in there, what could he need in there?

He returned with an interesting looking sex toy and some lube. 

“What do we do with that?” You asked innocently as he hands it to you with a smile. 

“You fuck me with it,” He looked at you, hope in his eyes that you’d say yes. “It’s a strapless strap-on. It even has a vibrator built in so that you can cum again while you fuck me.” He was so happy explaining this to you. “You put it into you, you can turn on the vibrations right away or wait...it’s up to you, and then you lube it up and...well... I think you know what you do with a dick.” 

You stood shocked that this is what he wanted to do. You slowly slipped off your dress, revealing your lingerie. You removed the panties and carefully inserted it, into yourself, getting a feel for how to keep it in place. You saw Yugyeom’s dick twitch at the sight. 

“Strip.” You said, looking at the almost fully clothed man in front of you. He immediately removed his pants and boxers and then winked at you before removing his shirt, revealing tattoos that you had never seen before. His body made your jaw drop. 

“What do you want me to do next?” He asked, eager to get started. He was the expert on this, so you thought he’d want to take control, but you guessed you were wrong. 

“Get over here and suck my cock.” You had never felt more empowered than when that phrase left your lips. 

Nodding eagerly, Yugyeom moved closer, stroking the fake dick just hard enough to pull the toy inside of you, sending shock waves of pleasure through you with the sensation. He sank down at your feet and leaned forward, licking the tip. Your fingers slid into his already messy hair, a rough tug, telling him to get on with it.

Yugyeom opened his mouth, slowly taking the dildo in. It wasn’t huge, but it was still sizable. He slowly began sucking on the toy, hollowing his cheeks and moving it around just enough with his movements that it was giving you more pleasure than you thought it would. 

“That’s it,” you purred. 

His hands slid up your legs, wrapping around your thighs, pulling the dildo farther into his mouth, his nose brushing your clit as he got more and more into it. You could see his cock was twitching with excitement for what this was leading to.

“Get it nice and wet,” you ordered. “Maybe I won’t even need the lube to fuck you.”

He shuddered with pleasure, a moan escaping his mouth. 

“You like the thought of that?” You asked him, getting a quick nod in response.

“Fuck,” you muttered. “You take my cock so well.” You wanted to see how his other hole would take the cock. You pulled away abruptly, ignoring the little needy sound that slipped out of his mouth and the pout that fell over his lips. 

“Let’s get you ready to take my cock,” you commanded, picking up the lube and squirting a bit of it onto the cock, the smell of hot chocolate filling your senses. You held back a laugh. This boy and his chocolate.

He nodded, a smirk on his face as he bent over the table, ass lining up with your hips almost perfectly. It wouldn’t be an ideal angle, but it would work. You looked at him shaking his hips anxiously and noticed there was a bright purple butt plug in place.

“Someone was ready for this,” you walked over and without warning pulled the plug out. It looked like a candy heart and it read ‘Do Me Now.’ He whined at the loss of fullness and whimpered as you stood there admiring his ass.

You went to grab the lube to coat your fingers and prep him more, but he grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Don’t...I want to feel it....the stretch.” This plug was quite a bit smaller than the cock, but you trusted Yugyeom would know his limits and would stop you if it was too much. “Please,” he begged, “I crave your cock.”

You lined up the cock and were trying to slide in slowly, but Yugyeom’s arms reached back and pulled you quickly inside of him. The moan that he let out was music to your ears. It made your core twitch in excitement.

He let out another whine, arching his hips back in invitation. You bottomed out and reached down to turn on the vibration. Both of you flinched at its strength and you knew you had to get to fucking him quickly because your next orgasm was already building.

Without giving him any time to adjust, you pulled almost all the way out before plunging back in. It felt indescribable, the feel of his body giving for your touch, the way he begged for your cock to ruin him both vocally and with his actions.

Before long, you found your rhythm, each stroke rubbing against his prostate. “I bet I could make you cum this way,” you moaned out, “without touching your begging cock.” Yugyeom moaned deep in his throat at that thought. 

Your thrusts were a bit haphazard, and got shorter and faster as you kept going. You were doing your best to make sure you didn’t accidentally drop the dildo out of yourself and these movements helped that. 

“I’m almost there” he whimpered and you were about to fall over the edge again as well. 

With a grunt, you slammed into him, nails dragging down his back, leaving red lines through his sexy tattoos. He mewled at the feeling. It was enough to set both of you into bliss. On the next stroke, the pleasure spiked, and he spilled, hips bucking in a way that caused the vibrations to hit you at a new angle, prolonging your orgasm.

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss on the cross between his shoulder blades as you both caught your breath. Your hands rubbed his lower back as you pulled slowly out.

He whined at the loss, but slowly stood up and watched you take the toy out of yourself and turn it off. He gently cupped your face and kissed you, a smile creeping into the kiss. 

“I could die tomorrow and be happy.” He said as he kissed your forehead, “Thank you.” He looked both happy and sad at the same time and you felt bad for the younger. No one his age should have to confront their mortality like that.

“You won’t die, Yugyeom.” You promised him, “You’ll be fine.” You ran your hands through his hair as you searched his eyes for any sign of relaxation. 

“You can’t promise me that.” He said as he grabbed his pants and walked away from you. Little did he know, you could. 

“I still am.” You firmly said, giving him a back hug, “I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

Yugyeom pulled away from you, a tear falling from his face. 

“What are you doing the rest of today?” He asked, trying to distract you while he got his emotions in check. 

“I have to meet with Jackson later today. Apparently, he needs my help with some new recruit training.” Yugyeom nodded as he handed you a damp cloth to clean yourself up. 

“Why don’t you go get ready for that and I’ll clean up here.” He pulled his shirt over his head and ran his hands through his hair.

“You sure?” You asked as you reached for his arm. He pulled away, still refusing to turn around and look at you, the tears streaming down his face now. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine here and you’re busy.” 

You turned and left him there to clean up, feeling bad that you couldn’t ease his mind. 

Little did you know, another leader had watched the whole encounter through the interrogation room camera and was hoping you would be able to help him later with his fantasy. 

He grabbed his phone and dialed his second in command, “I need you to move the new recruit training to exercise room B today and run it for me. Something came up and Y/N and I need to do some work in room A. I’ll let her know, so don’t worry about it.”

He hung up the phone and a smile crept onto his face. 

“It’s gonna be a good workout.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Hello My Lovelies!!! 

Did you enjoy the chapter? I sure as hell enjoyed writing it.

What do you think about Jackson?? Light or Dark?? 

Let me know!!

~LoLo

[djarinsidebitch]

Throne of Mandalore

A/N: this is a repost from my old account poedameronsbtch

Word Count: 816

After maul had taken control of Mandalore he hadn't let you out of his sight even more so after that jedi was able to sneak into mandalore. He had chossen you to be his stress relife taking you how ever he wanted when ever he wanted; he would simple grab you and take off your armor and fuck you,use you  like now he called you into the thrown room after telling everyone to leave. You walk in pullin off your helmet “You summoned me?” you ask looking at him “Yes; Get on your knees'' if this was your first time you would have been confused but now you where used to it; you quickly pulled off your armor and kneeled between his legs un fastening his pants he smirked running a hand through your hair raking his fingers through the strands. Once you undo his pants pulling out Mauls hardened cock you look up at him and he just pushes you head to his cock “you know what to do liik whore” You run your tongue along the underside of his cock before wrapping your mouth around the head of his cock it was a dark maroon color you hollow your cheeks sucking on the head before he pushes your head farther down his cock till it hit the back of your throat bringing tears to your eyes he keeps his hands on your head while he starts thrusting using your mouth and throat tears stream down your face as he keeps with his pace, he stops once he feels himself twitch then pulls your mouth off of him then pushed you down “On all fours now!” he commands you move getting onto all fours;Now grunting and the rough sound of skin slapping is all that can be heard echoing through the throne room in mandalorian. Armor was strewn in a circle you were on all fours while he thrusts in roughly, one hand holding your hip forcing you back upon him while thrusting deep into you, his other hand moved gripping your neck he hits particularly sensitive spot causing you to whimper louder he leans down "you like that?" he asks hitting the spot again "you are such a little whore letting me take you like this you play the part of a Mandalorian but you will always be this" he yanks you back by the neck pulling you upright against him and continues to pound into you "Just my little whore" he whispers into your ear it was all to much the thought that any of the other members of death watch could walk back in and see you getting fucked out so thoroughly the feeling of Maul’s hands quickly pulls out out of your train of thought gripping onto your breast kneading the soft flesh.

“Are you close, little one? I can feel you get tighter; does it feel good being fucked like this… used like this” you respond with moans and whimpers “Use your words”  “Yess.. yes -fuck- it feels so good Master” you mewl. The name causes him to thrust harder “say it again” he growls his mouth lowering down to your neck nipping at the flesh quickly turning it red and purple with hickeys and love bites. “Master” you whimper out feeling the coil about to break in your abdomen “I'm close..” one hand trails up to his horns grasping onto it. He grabs your hands bringing it behind you forcing you back onto all fours but keeping your hands held behind you your face pressed hardly into the cool tile of the throne room “Cum for me you little slut let me feel you cum around my cock.” he growls out slowing his pace but thrusting deeper and harder. Soon the coil broke you were spasming around his cock he didnt shop but moaned feeling you clench then gush around him he started going faster once more; you started whimpering feeling over sensitive from the orgasm “Shh shh” he shushes you “be good for your master” he keeps his brutal pace leading you to another orgasm causing you to yell out in pleasure and pain. Maul’s pace stutters and he quickly pulls out flipping you around and on your knees while he takes himself into his hand jerking himself off until he cums on your face, spurts of his seed spreading across your cheeks and mouth he grams milking himself for you then looks down at you, hair messy, tears running down your face and his cum coating your face. “Such a perfect slut” he says softly running the back of his hand and fingers down the side of your face “Now get dressed and out of my face” he says pulling onto his clothes and going back up to the throne sitting down leavin you to put all your armor on and act like nothing happened.

[ajokeformur-ray]

Bruh can you do a thigh riding on Arthur,,,, ple;ase.

TW; smut (obviously), NSFW, thigh riding, protected penetrative sex, swearing, no pronouns used but body parts are female.

Hidden from those in Safe Mode. Do not read unless 18+.

word count: 2, 884.

The Murray Show was on and that meant that you had temporarily lost all of Arthur’s attention.

With a happy murmur and a little jog to the other side of the bed had Arthur said, “Yay, Murray!” and now, even with all of you focused on him was he ignoring you.

You always liked to watch the show with Arthur even though you greatly disliked the host because it meant that you got to spend some proper uninterrupted quality time together. You would cuddle closely on the sofa and keep each other grounded in the moment by keeping your hands clasped together. Sometimes when one of you was feeling especially affectionate, you would sit on Arthur’s lap, his chin rested on your shoulder, just to give yourselves that extra something that you craved from each other.

This wasn’t one of those occasions. No.

This night was one during which Arthur sat apart from you, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs crossed at the ankle, his jaw ticking sometimes. His index finger tapped twice against his arm every now and then when something irritated him - like when you shifted on the bed, disturbing him, or when you laughed a little too loudly at a joke.

Arthur was in a bad mood and it was starting to wear off on you.

There was something that had frustrated him today and so far he hadn’t said anything. By now, the light grey storm clouds in Gotham had grown darker, more ominous and heavier with rain still to fall, and the sky had begun to bleed purple as the sun fell below the horizon. You didn’t want him to go to bed angry or irritated. You wanted him to go to bed with a smile on his face.

All you had ever wanted and would ever want for Arthur was his happiness.

With a sigh did you get up onto your knees, deliberately using Arthur’s knee to pull yourself up.

“Stop that,” Arthur huffed, his eyes not leaving the television. “I’m trying to watch Murray.”

You smirked. It was almost time to play. Sex with Arthur was always so much rougher when he was irritated with something. Only when he had to release some pent up energy did he grip your hips so tightly you knew you would bruise, did he bite the places he kissed so reverently, his tongue soothing the marks his teeth had left upon your skin, did he thrust into you a little deeper, a little harder. Sex with Arthur was delicious but sex with a frustrated Arthur was magical.

On your knees facing Arthur did you climb with far less grace than you were aiming for onto one of his thighs. Surprised by your sudden advance did Arthur sit frozen, his eyes glued to the television screen, wide and his pupils dilated. The growing tent in his jeans showed that he was already aroused. All you had done was straddle his thigh. It never took much to get him going, most especially when he was already highly strung with emotions.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re so grumpy?” You poked one of his cheeks with a finger and Arthur frowned, swatted your hand away. He shushed you harshly.

You wrapped your arms around Arthur’s neck, your fingers finding the hairs at the nape. Using your grip on his hair did you pull yourself forward, your clothed core sliding against Arthur’s thigh, creating a friction that had you gasping. Had you just discovered a new spice in your relationship together?

Arthur choked on air, his hands flew to grip your hips. Your eyes met. Electricity crackled in the air between you and just like that did Arthur lose all interest in watching The Murray Show. It was an old re-run, anyway. Not that he had been planning on telling you; he had wanted to see how long it would take before you got bored and decided to take things into your own hands. He so loved when you took control; as someone who had to be on top of everything all the time in real life, he loved to take a step back in the bedroom and let you decide things. Of course, he could be dominant too, but he far preferred the way you looked when you were looming over him, the harsh overhead light creating a halo behind you. In those moments were you his angel and often did he murmur that word to you affectionately, curving his lithe form upwards as to kiss you tenderly.

Goodness, he loved you.

Using your grip on his hair did you tug, forcing him to tilt his head into the movement. It exposed the column of his neck, which you attached your lips to. You kissed a trail from the very corner of his jaw bone, down the hollow just under his ear and then down his neck. Each peck as you progressed further down did you press your lips to his skin harder. At the junction of his collarbone did you begin to suck gently, grazing the abused area with your teeth. You soothed the aggravated area with your tongue. Arthur was moaning softly and you didn’t need to look at his face to know that he would have his eyes shut; his fingers flexed upon your hips to hold you right where you were.

You knew a hint when you felt one, so highly attuned were you to Arthur’s needs, and you began to gyrate your hips, creating a sinful tension which only made you want more and more of the feeling of Arthur between your legs, against your core.

Help you, you loved him.

“What’s wrong, Arthur? You’ve been so tightly wound up tonight.” You pulled yourself up to sitting, wanting to actually talk to him; it was important to you that you found out what was bothering him so badly. Your thigh riding slowed to a gentler pace, but Arthur grunted as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against your shoulder, using his grip on you to keep your hips moving; he didn’t ever want you to stop. Not now that you had finally taken control of the situation.

“I just - I needed - this,” he panted roughly against your shoulder, peeling the neckline of your shirt away so he could plant dry kisses to your skin with those warm and slightly chapped lips. Your hands came up to grip his shoulders, to better your stance, and your own head tipped back as you gave yourself over to everything that you were feeling.

“Next time - “ You were beginning to feel your own breath coming quicker now “ - just ask.” You silly man, was the last affectionate coherent thought you had before you truly surrendered yourself to everything. You quickened your pace, gyrated harder against Arthur’s thigh, but it didn’t seem to hit that spot. The sounds of your moans, Arthur’s soft whimpers and occasional grunts as he bucked his hips instinctively filled the room and created a soundtrack to your love.

You needed more. Of everything. More of the friction to your core, more of Arthur’s lips, of his hands, his teeth, that devilish tongue - you needed more of Arthur and as your core clenched around nothing, feeling empty, you decided to take what you wanted. You wanted more.

“Oh, fuck this!”

You jumped up off of Arthur, pulling yourself away and getting off the bed completely. Arthur watched you, transfixed and awestruck as you hurriedly undressed yourself. Your underwear was wet, sticky and clinging to your core, and you winced in slight disgust as you pulled your underwear down your legs. The actual mechanics of having sex grossed you out a little after the fact but right now you just wanted Arthur inside you. Your future self could deal with the way you threw your clothes any which way without care for where they landed.

He took his cues from you and undressed himself from where he was still sat on the bed. His actions were frenzied and had he not been already sat down, he would have tripped on something and hurt himself. He was so clumsy, your Arthur, and you loved him for it. The contrast of the way he held himself when he was relaxed to the way he gracefully moved when he was dancing only added to the overall sense of mystery that surrounded him and even though you knew him like the back of your hand, you knew that there were still parts of him that you had yet to discover. Somewhere did you know that each day would reveal some small fact about him, some small quirk, and you would never run out of new material to discover.

When all clothing barriers were shed did you pounce on him like a lion stalking its prey. He had resumed his position leaning against the headboard and you had wasted no time in straddling his lap fully, the inside of your knees pressed to his slender outer thighs. With his eyes blown wide and his chest heaving, his ribs protruding painfully through his skin, his hands suspended in the air like he was suddenly unsure of himself did Arthur watch you. The brief break that you had taken from each other hadn’t cooled his desire for you. No, like a pit of lava did it continue to burn its way through his body, violent in its relentlessness. Even with you here, now, straddling him but your laps misaligned slightly, even with the way you were as physically close together as you could get, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. You were like a drug to each other, and like all addicts did you require more for the same fix each time. Arthur had gone without love or any kind of compassionate touch for his entire life and often did he seem to want to fit in thirty five years of what he had been missing into one evening. You never minded; you welcomed his clinginess. Even when you were in a bad mood, you bit back irritation when Arthur cuddled into you, taking initiative. It wasn’t healthy to do so, but you were both aware of the silent sacrifices you made for each other and that was precisely why neither of you ever put a stop to it.

Before you acted on your mutual feelings, though, you had to say something. With an excited shake to your fingers did you reach out to cup Arthur’s face. He moaned softly, closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. Everything you did to him did he savour, making sure to pay every inch of attention that he had on you so that when you weren’t with him in the future for whatever reason - though he thought it would be because you had found someone more deserving of you, not that he would ever tell you because he didn’t want to be a problem and he definitely didn’t want to invoke any anger in you - he could always look back on moments like this and know love. He had craved it for so long and you gave it to him in spades.

“Arthur, look at me,” His eyes had been fixed at a point just over your shoulder, the Murray Show over by now and some other rerun was playing, but now his eyes were on yours and the love in them threatened to choke you. It almost did but you pushed through. Everything was so intense with Arthur. You knew you didn’t want it any other way. “Don’t be afraid to tell me what you want. We’re in love, we’re together and that means that should you like to do things like this, you can just tell me.” Patience was something else that Arthur had taught you, even in moments like this when you longed to sink down on his length were you somehow able to concentrate long enough to help him through whatever was going on in that complex mind of his. You were his only experience in love, relationships and sex and so you often had to explain things to him as they occurred. For every time you comforted him without even knowing it, he did something for you wordlessly. Both of you were aware of the quiet ways of showing love that you did for the other. It was a relationship of give and take in varying degrees, but no matter what the shared percentages were in any given day, no one was ever left feeling unwanted, unneeded or unloved. That was something that neither of you could stand the thought of.

“But I just - “ Arthur started out strong but his confidence faded. His throat convulsed as a sign of an impending attack and you did the only thing you could think of, the only thing you wanted from him, the only thing which would stop his self-depreciation in its tracks -

You kissed him.

Arthur took a few seconds to come to life under you and then his lips were devouring yours like he was starving as his hands once again gripped your hips. You grinned against his mouth as you found that dark spark within him that you sometimes tasted but couldn’t ever fan into a proper flame.

“Take from me what you need.” You hoped that he would let go of all of his restraints now, and allow himself to express his wants. You raised yourself up long enough for Arthur’s hand to quickly dip into the bedside table, find and rip open a condom and slide it easily onto his length before you sunk yourself down onto him. Arthur groaned lowly in your ear, his warm breath washing over your face. He smelled of cigarettes and tasted of coffee and you found yourself dizzy on all that you were feeling in this moment.

With his hold on you did Arthur set a pace that left you breathless. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in enthusiasm and as he sunk his teeth carefully in your shoulder, you tugged on his hair. “Don’t hold back on me, love.” You could barely speak, barely breathe as you impaled yourself again and again on Arthur, making sure that with each movement was he deeply seated within you. Your lips met in a heated frenzy, your head tilted back with the urge to breathe but Arthur didn’t let you go; lavishing your neck with kisses, nips, sucks and bites; his teeth grazing gently before he bit you, soothing the area with his tongue. This was what you had been after, what you had been craving from your slightly broken love; that darkness that you often glimpsed within him but could never draw out. He was more confident, more harsh with his words, his voice husky, his hands rougher and his lips… it was sinful what they could do to you.

Your eyes met green and there must have been something on your face because Arthur began to thrust into you harder, lifting you up until he was almost completely out of you before he slammed you back down. A coil of tension wound tighter within you before it snapped and you came; the feeling of your silky walls clenching around Arthur had him coming too, and he slowed to a gentle pace as he rode out your high with you.

“I love you so much,” Arthur stayed inside of you as he cupped your face and pressed tender kisses all over your skin, which had a slight sheen of sweat to it.

“I love you too.” You smiled, letting Arthur see everything. “You did so well, honey.” You knew Arthur well enough to know that he doubted all of his actions and always wondered if he was good enough for you, so after each time did you compliment him. Arthur’s appreciative beam let you know that he knew what you were doing and he loved you even more for it. Not being able to say the words in his head because his thoughts never translated out loud very well, he only gently eased you off him, kissed your forehead and left to go to the bathroom. He was big on aftercare, almost enjoying it more than the actual act of sex itself.

You watched him go with a soft smile on your face. You were going to be so sore tomorrow but you didn’t care. Not when Arthur looked at you like that. Not when his bruising grip, which would undoubtedly show on your body tomorrow, had marked you, making you known that you belonged together. You would wear them with pride, even though no one else would see them apart from the two of you. That was all you ever needed; Gotham had no business knowing of your relationship and deep intimate bond with each other. You were both private people who kept their home lives totally separated from what reality demanded from you but never gave back, and it suited you both well.

The world could burn for all you cared. So long as you had each other, you had everything.

The Arthur Fleck/Joker Defense Squad @writings-of-a-gen-z  @x-avantgarde-x  @mapreza1 @insomniabird  @mavalenovaninagavi  @itwasrealenough  @morrisonmercurymalek  @rand0ms-fand0ms  @rafaelina-casillas @aclownthing  @rebs-doom  @vivft  @help-i-am-obssessed @autumnaffection   @taintednihilist   @vladtoly   @mg-woolf99 @misstgrey92  @that-s-life   @dopey-girl-blogs  @seeking-dreamland  @sweetheart-syndrome  @heartxfdesire  @xmusichealsthesoulx  @0callmejude0  @the-one-that-likes-riddles  @hannibalsslut  @folliaght  @freeeshavacadoo  @bingewatchingmylifegoby  @unlovedbyeveryoneandeverything  @okamiredfoxx  @sp0okysp0oky  @the-pandorabox  @mardema  @jibanyyan  @honeyflvredcoughdrop  @emissarydecksetter  @jokerfleckk  @epidendroideae  @chuuntas  @stillmabel  @pumpkinpeyes  @onehystericalqueenposts  @the-jokers-wolf  @nalsswa  @justahyena  @arianatheangelworld  @soullessblondbitch  @gothamslittlejester  @twentyonestarrynights  @sirianfromsixties  @kissmeclownman  @joker-is-my-hero  @lazyloosah  @lovesickkloxx  @ladylovelyluna  @live-love-loki  @clownerybbxx   @tragicarthur    @anmach123     @rommie-chan      @arthurflock

[doomedandstoned]

Planet of the Dead Return to the Stars as ‘Pilgrims’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

Album Art by Jonathan Guzi

Every other day there's a story that calls our eyes heavenward to wonder about new planets discovered in nearby solar systems, terraforming Mars, or exploring the smallest elements in the universe. Anywhere has to be better than here, any time better than here right now. At least that's what a lot of people are feeling. How about the power of music to elevate us into vast dimensions of the imagination. One band out of New Zealand is interested in finding out what limits one can breach when the driving power of doom rock is hotwired with adventurous sci-fi/fantasy storytelling.

I speak, of course, of Wellington quartet PLANET OF THE DEAD Last year, Mark Mundell (vox), Malcolm McKenzie (guitar), Kees Hengst (bass), and Josh Hussey (drums) brought us the impressive first introduction to their soundscape and narrative concept, which elicited no small amount of praise for 'Fear of a Dead Planet' (2020), including the enthusiastic Bandcamper who gushed, "Some of the best jams I've heard in this universe!" Listen to fan favorites "The Eternal Void" or "Mind Killer" and you'll discover why there's excitement around this band's future.

But Planet of the Dead wasn't done yet. As many of us have already experienced, unexpected and elongated times of forced aloneness do crazy things to the creative mind. For one, it frustrates, as you cannot express the present songs you feel so strongly about to live crowds filled with spontaneous drifters. The moods usually shift out of sheer exasperated boredom, leading to the insatiable urge to begin tinkering again. 'Pilgrim' (2021) comes at us like an explosion with stories to tell and songs to wail. It's purpose-driven interdimensional doom we're talking about here. This may have been the impetus behind the second album’s creation, so closely after the birth of their first (incidentally, both records feature exactly eight songs a piece).

"Gom Jabbar" is the first creature we chance upon in this otherworldly dimension. He speaks with synth-enhanced vocals (ever so slightly) that's practically like an alien encounter if you listen to it high (gosh, sorry. I've gotta stop leaking album reviewer secrets like that). A defiant second voice joins the dialogue, sounding for all the world like Goliath, Hercules, or Hulkian figure.

"Pilgrim" stirs up grey and purple auras as this groovy sandcrawler glides across dunes and high above deserts, searching for the most fitting place to (re)build the world they once knew, perhaps even dare to dream beyond it. I'm assuming they're a scientific voyage on the run from a restrictive government in a week's long mini series I should have pitched to NBC 20 years ago for big bucks. The song allows your imagination drift on its own recognisance, before the closing words call us back to the shadows.

A dire feeling blankets the air throughout "Nostromo," a stomping little number that's straight-up doom rock, with a cool streetwalking kind of stride. It's impossible to not to think of previous adventures aboard vessels christened Nostromo, but each are mysterious encounters with the unknown, some of which yield new insights into our humanity by taking us back through some strange luck of heavy metal time travel to experience pivotal moments in astral history.

"The Sprawl" may be one of the most dismal legs of this journey, but in an exotic acid-soaked kind of way that makes you question your reality (and your own sanity) before the trip is done. The song is good about building various layers of joy and tension, then meshing them together for some distorted, fuzzy, electric, sparkin' Frankensteinian experience. Where will the spiral take us next? Confident lead gets a riff-enhanced jolt, staging march-like-groove that eventually turns meditative, psychedelic, and ethereal. And that's just the first side of the record! Go ahead, flip it over. You can't stop this far-invested in the trip. Shhh. Listen. Grungy, rumbling energy, extraterrestrial harmonics, and gnarly acid-touched solos are just ahead.

"Escape from Smith's Grove" jars the senses with the unexpected tonal shift from clarinets into a seismic pattern of eruptions that match our stomping feet. This is, after all, a jailbreak of sorts.

"Directive IV" takes the perspective of an enforcement officer who is just doing his job. Mark Mundell's vocal stylings are on-point. For me they compare to the pipes of the late-great Wayne Static, the spastic, growling frontman of Static X. Others may see more similarity with the "common man" grit of Scott Angelacos from Hollow Leg and Junior Bruce. Or even Kirk Windstein's apocalyptic spitfire with Crowbar.

The song appears to be a struggle of conscience between compassion and machine-like order, a tug-of-war that after several epic call and response segments in which our protagonist is put on trial by his peers. The tight grip of fascistic space goons gradually loosens their grip in the song's final minutes, as a street-worn riff storm carries our rebels far away from the grasp of whatever the fucks. That means our (now treasonous) soldier has a second chance at life in the (are you ready for this?) the unknown wilds of...

..."The Cursed Earth." This is a perfect song for that moment in a show when the alcohol or "legal tobacco" has sufficiently unlocked your third eye with stellar riffs and choruses (this song has several "ah-ha" moments). The vocals are obscured here and are sometimes backed up by other singers to emphasize a specific point in the lyrical narrative. The final moments again are slowed down with impactful tonal moments that make you think you're on the edge spying some strange meeting of warrior souls.

Things are not what they seem They never are

"The Great Wave" pulls you right into its hypnotic sway, interjected with extraterrestrial strains of thought communicated as if by a very blasted HAL 9000, our onboard computer. It's downright creepy when it hits you. Then again, maybe that's what we want from an intrepid album such as Pilgrim, to rope us into a fascinating narrative and invite us to return to sort out the details, several spins down the road. Now that I think of it, maybe these songs are all references pinned to great Alien, Robocop, and Judge Dredd moments? Listen closely to "Nostromo" and "Directive IV" and wonder. A good album should do that to a person, draw you into its storytelling and musical colour. It has me listening to it immediately from beginning to end, then end to beginning. If you wanna give it a shot, Planet of the Dead's monsterpiece will definitely reward your back-to-back listens.

Look for Pilgrims to come to life on July 23rd, with a fantastic spread of options on vinyl and CD (pre-order here). In the meanwhile, Planet of the Dead are letting us join the party leading up to the big drop right here at Doomed & Stoned HQ, where you can hear each track in full. Don't miss crucial insight from the band itself in 'Some Buzz' to follow. Then join in sharing your thoughts and theories (stoned or otherwise) on this transcendental New Zealand metal album in the comments below!

Give ear...

LISTEN: Planet of the Dead - Pilgrim

SOME BUZZ

Just little over a year following the release of their auspicious debut album, 'Fear of a Dead Planet' (2020), which attained more than 35,000 views on YouTube, New Zealand cosmic stoner and doom four-piece band Planet of the Dead are back with a new full-length album titled 'Pilgrims' (2021).

Hurtling towards the forever yawning void within their busted-up space freighter, they draw inspiration from classic science fiction and horror, and push supermassive and megalithic riffs to the outer limits.

"Our second album came together around the titular track 'Pilgrim', which is based on the book 'Slaughterhouse 5' by Kurt Vonnegut. Musically, it plays upon the themes of moments trapped in the amber." So says the band about this new album.

"Our basic concept is heavy music played heavy, and we try to keep it simple. There are recurrent themes in our riffs which gives the album a sense of coherence, but we've experimented with some new sounds in the latest album which we feel results in a greater sense of dynamism.

"Lyrically, we dug deeper into our obsessions with classic sci-fi and horror. There is a distinctive and undeniable fan-fiction element to our work. We actively seek out cultural references, and weave them into our tapestries. Ultimately, we do everything we do for the great god Dyzan, for his greater glory...and for our mutual pleasure.”

Set for release on July 23rd, 'Pilgrims' will surely cement Planet of the Dead’s reputation as serious riff merchants.

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[thisisthehardestthing]

This Is The Hardest Thing - 6

18+, nothing happens but mentions of sexual fluids.

Authors note: Would like to apologize with how short this is, but the previous chapter was quite intense (or at least I thought it was) and so this is mostly just for a breather, to give some info and develop a bit more plot.

Masterlist

CHAPTER 6

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Your eyes were wide, glancing from Bakugo, to the laundry room, back to Bakugo. The events that just transpired replayed in your mind. Nausea began to bubble up in your stomach as you sat upright, willing your feet to be steady once it hit the wet tiles. He shouldn’t have touched you. No, it’s your fault for not controlling it. You winced when you felt the cold cum slide down your thigh, buttoning your shirt, rubbing whatever you could feel on your legs with the inside of your skirt, thankful you were still on birth control.

The room, once clean and mopped and tidy, was now a complete mess, all thanks to you. All the dryers lining the wall were open, a few dented inwards with the one furthest away shifted out of line, almost ready to fall onto the floor below. The washing machines below, usually two neat lines, seemed to have gotten the brunt of the attack. They were scattered, zig-zagging across the room as the white metal tops and sides were dented in. Somewhere in a corner, a pipe must’ve ripped free as a puddle of water began to form and pool down to where you both stood. Your eyes wandered up, taking in the hanging lights. Thankfully, none had burst. The vibrations must not have traveled there.

Bakugo’s red eyes burned with anger and confusion and you wondered if he always had that level of energy in him. You were used to your quirk, yet you still found it difficult to remain standing, so how was he moving so freely? You were mortified, embarrassed, disgusted. Where could you even start? Do you apologize to him first? Do you explain everything? This was so messed up and you feel your chest start to constrict, tighten up so that it’s hard to breathe.

“Oi!” Bakugo’s sharp tone cut through your inner turmoil. He had taken a step away from you, standing as far in the width between two machines as possible. “Explain yourself.”

Your thumbs fidgeted awkwardly as your palms clasped together, the cold tiles under the soles of your feet an inviting, cool thrum against your frantic nerves.

“Bakugo, I’m sorry,” you began but he waved you off, an exasperated look in his eyes, biceps twitched as his arms across his chest. It was the only sign of muscle strain you could see in him.

“Fuck that, apologize later. What the fuck happened?”

You took a labored breath, tight chest hindering your movement as your mind whirred around the different explanations you could give him. So you settled on the easiest, most detached one.

“I can feel, absorb, and control the vibrations of atoms.” You said, opening your palms and lifting them. The fingers prints and lines on your hands were defined, which magnified your sensitivity with whatever you touched. “Even with my eyes closed, I can see what’s happening around me through the neighboring vibration and move it.” Your fingertips curled into your palms, half-moon indents forming against the skin. “I can’t control it properly. Sometimes, there’s too much energy…”

Bakugo made a strange growl, deep in thought, brows furrowed.

“So, what I felt when you touched me? What was that?”

You swallowed, the feeling of nausea returning as you struggled to look at him.

“It’s like an electric circuit. That’s the best way I can describe it. If I touch something… alive, it can feel my vibrations while it’s being moved, and I can feel theirs.” The explanation is chosen carefully, avoiding the fact that your feet were the same, you didn’t always need to touch objects, that you were a child of a quirk marriage.

Katsuki unfurled his arms and stared into his hands with an expression of longing and confusion. The skin on his palms was so thick, he could barely feel anything underneath them, but when he touched you, he had felt every centimeter beneath his calloused hands. Just remembering the way those vibrations flowed from his and into your body was enough to send him into a spiral of doubt, self-loathing and once again, need.

“Bakugo, I really am sorry. There are no words I can say that makes me losing control over my quirk okay.” The apology erupted from your chest as you saw his face, staring into space at his hands. His eyes snapped up, signature frown and clenched jaw evident.

“Tch, I don’t need your apology. I wanted to fuck you anyway, but don’t touch me again.” He stooped to pick up his shirt and twisted it, the water trickling into a puddle beneath his feet. The wet fabric was thrown over his shoulder, the resounding slap against his back sent another wave of shame through you. He picked up the bucket, then the mop, and busied himself with tidying up whatever else had fallen to the ground.

“Don’t just fucking stand there, we need to clean this place up.” Bakugo chastised, the glare in his eyes deadlier than before as he pushed a machine back in line with the rest.

You hesitated before turning to the machine behind you, limbs heavy like you were wading through water. The cold metal beneath your palm welcome as you focused on the dull thrum. The zig-zagging vibrations of aluminum laid out a map behind your eyelids. You were exhausted and the energy that poured into you from the metal contraption helped you feel a little more human, until you lifted your hands and it dispersed, draining back through the soles of your feet. The machine looked new again, no more dents in the side, the white surface completely smooth. Although your quirk did not drain you of your own energy, it did work your muscles more than any gym could, flushing them with an ache and endorphins.

So you moved to the next one, smoothing out any imperfections that were created before Bakugo maneuvered it back into place. It was soothing and painful at the same time, the feeling of the metal popping back up akin to the sound of a spoon scraping against a pan. It made your skin crawl, goosebumps rose on your forearms and shins. Bakugo made sure to keep a distance from you, at least a machine width. Everything about this day ended up wrong, and you couldn’t wait to crawl back to your room and hide beneath the covers for the rest of the night to ignore the hollow feeling in your chest.

He’d only stood next to you one time for the entire hour that was spent cleaning the room, and it was right before you both turned to leave. Your arms were close enough to feel the static between the hairs, but not touching. You suppressed a shiver and curled your toes up to ease permanent wave rolling off him. The bucket, mop, and broom gripped tight between those large palms, with the same strength they had latched onto your breast. He let out a sigh, head-turning only slightly towards you, ruby eyes peering down.

“I don’t blame you,” Bakugo said. It was curt and final, his tone sincere. Although not entirely relieved, those words made some unwitting tension release from between your shoulder blades. Saying ‘thank you’ in return felt wrong like he meant to pity you. You didn’t know him very well, at least emotionally, but you could tell that he did not pity anyone.

“Don’t tell anyone,” you replied, meeting his gaze, just as pointed. He made a snarky comment under his breath and walked out of the room.

You stayed a minute longer, partly to give him space but mostly to rid yourself of the feeling of his footsteps on the floor. When you could no longer feel him, you cried.

************************************************************

Dabi stood in the middle of the dark room, facing a figure shrouded in shadows, seated in an overly large, pompous armchair. His piercings glinted in the orange flame of the fireplace that flickered in the corner. He crossed his arms, scarred skin tight on his forearms that pulled dangerously against thin skin. They were in the middle of a boring conversation; how to get the League back on their feet, next steps, and it was all Dabi could do not to set the entire place ablaze.

Absentmindedly, he picked at a scab and blood fanned out into the dips of his flesh, red on bruised purple. He mumbled a fuck before pressing the fresh wound with his thumb, annoyed at his habit.

“So, what do you think of the plan?” Shigaraki croaked out, his voice similar to the crackling of the fire before him. Honestly, Dabi had stopped listening twenty minutes ago, he couldn’t care less about how the League pulled out of their slump as long as he got to have some reckless fun.

“Yeah, sounds good. Let me know wha—” The door burst open, slamming against the wall as Giran hobbled in. The golden light of the hallway created a runway directly to Shigaraki’s chair, illuminating the grey hand on the red leather, pinky fingers lifted. Eyes peered around the edge, chapped lips pressed together tightly, as the newcomer was observed.

“You’re late.” He quipped, voice dripping with contempt.

“Sorry, Shigaraki,” Giran reached into his pocket for another cigarette, his tone indifferent to the underground ‘king’. After a long inhale, stretching out the silence, Giran blew smoke out, his jaw tilted to gaze at the ceiling. “I’ve got… news.” He selected his words carefully. Shigaraki had started losing his temper frequently, and Giran did not want to be on the receiving end of it.

“Spit it out.” Dabi huffed, his weight shifted from one foot to the other, a finger stroking the column of staples pressed into his chin. A sigh left Giran’s lips.

“I was cornered last night, well, this morning. There’s a pro-Hero currently in Japan from America, perhaps you know him? Soil?” Shigaraki grunted in response, neither a yes or no, but in distaste. “He wanted me to tell you that’s he’s waiting for you and that you can no longer hide in the shadows.”

The edges of Shigaraki’s lips turned up at the threat. “Someone I don’t know is making threats? Directly at us? They must be incredibly dumb, or incredibly strong. Dabi?”

The scarred man ran a hand through his hair, pulling at it slightly, ignoring the way his skin itched.

“Why don’t we go find out?”

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