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blockedbykei · 4 months ago

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ?

— synopsis: kageyama always had one agenda in his life: volleyball. it just so happens that you seemed to challenge him even more than the sport has ever done in his life.

— warnings: (this chapter) awkward kageyama, sucks at feelings. frenemies to lovers, a little angst bc kageyama's about to relapse lol pls don't attack me also i don't know how the academic system works in japan

— parts: i, ii, iii, iv

ii; love thorns all over this rose

kageyama is awake thirty minutes before his alarm rings.

and in those thirty minutes, he spends it like he usually does— planning.

and with a little bit of spice, reminiscing.

"they'll pay you," he said on the phone. he had sensed your relief despite your silence on the other side.

"thank god." you sighed. "okay dude, i gotta be honest with you. i'm only using this opportunity as some kind of job starter, 'kay? i won't be permanent. so don't get your hopes up."

"i won't be too hopeful on you." he deadpanned. a little too honest, to upfront, maybe brought up by buried pain. kageyama shook the thought. "when can you start?"

"anytime you want me to start, tobio-chan." you beamed. he heard ruffling in the background, and the familiar sound of keys jingling. "except today though. i have some paperwork to do. will tomorrow be okay?"

"okay."

that was yesterday, at 4:13pm. it was now 5:30 in the morning.

and it seems like you were awake too.

kageyama jumps at the sound of his phone vibrating against his wooden bedside table. he pushes the covers off his body, pushing himself up to sit against the bed frame before unplugging his phone off his cable.

you. u up? wanna jog around? 5:32am

he doesn't hesitate to reply.

kageyama. Sure. 5:32am

—

to his fortune, your apartment was near his home. so the idea of jogging around was easily fulfilled as his legs are now being warmed up outside the entrance of your building.

kageyama is a little eager to see you at this time in the morning, a rush of excitement adding a bounce on his heels. and he only waits for five minutes until he sees you exit the elevator in your sports attire.

jacket and leggings. same as his, except he wore sweatpants.

your hair is tied up messily, strands of hair above your head uncombed and bumpy. you walk towards him and give him a smile, stopping just a few friendly feet from him.

he thinks that image of you will stay plastered on his mind.

"ready to go, tobio?"

he looks at you, foot pressed on a bench. his fingers tie his laces as he stares at you.

kageyama was always a man of few words, and you'd learned how to read him through his eyes and body language alone. his stare may seem blank to others, but you read it as "yes, i'm ready."

and he says it either way. "yes"

—

"so what exactly is it that i'm supposed to do?"

you've matched his pace, or maybe he's slowed down to jog by your side, or maybe he's just slow and you're a bit faster than him. either way, you're happy to be in the same speed, enough so that you can talk to him without having a hard time.

kageyama hums. "uh. you will be like my life coach?"

"what the fuck is a life coach?" you grimace.

"i don't know either." his breath is white past his lips from the cold air, sparing you a quick glance. "i just think i'm too obsessed with volleyball that i kind of... don't have a life outside of it."

"i thought volleyball was your life."

"it is. until i became an adult." he swallows thickly. "when i'm not on the court, i'm in my classes. when i'm not in my classes and the court's not open i... i don't do anything. i think i'm a boring person."

"so you're like a loser?"

kageyama sighs dejectedly. "yeah."

"and you want me to make you more, what, interesting?"

"yeah."

"and i'm getting paid to do this?"

"yeah."

"i'm getting paid to teach you how to get a life," you guffaw, small pants leaving your mouth as you do so. "i never thought i'd be doing that after three years. holy shit, tobio-chan."

kageyama pouts. "do you find joy over the fact that i'm a loser?"

"oh yes," you shake your head, a smile on your face. "i do enjoy that."

you both stop after ten minutes, deciding to take a break by sitting on the bench. you place your feet on the space beside kageyama, bringing it to your chest, facing him. he tilts his head up and swallows the water rapidly as if he'd been parched since the dawn of time.

he wipes his sweat off his forehead, his biceps contracting, hair sticking to his skin. you blush at the sight.

"so what do you want to try doing?" you ask him, tugging on your sleeves.

kageyama shrugs. "how to not be too obsessed with volleyball."

"okay genius," you roll your eyes. "i meant do you want to learn how to ride a bike? how to paint? to swim?"

"i know how to ride a bike," then he pauses, looking down at the tips of your shoes grazing his thigh. he scratches his chin. "i wanna learn how to swim."

you scrunch your nose. "did you even attend the swimming classes back in high school?"

"no."

"god, tobio," you laugh through your nose. "where were you? hiding in the gym?"

"i was with you inside the janitor's closet remember?"

your smile fades a little, pulling your feet closer to yourself. and then you look away from him.

"so i'm teaching you how to swim then." kageyama wishes you'd look at him again, take your eyes off from whatever you're staring at and plant them on him instead. "i might push you into the deep part of the pool, then i remembered you're tall so you could just stand. unless i put a rock on you..."

"do i need to list it down?" he asks, and you look at him. your eyes seemed duller than earlier. he almost winces. "all the things you're going to teach me?"

"hm," you scoot closer. your arms rest on top of your knees, your chin resting on top of your left forearm. "first, you're gonna get a manicure with me. that'll be tomorrow because i want one."

"okay."

"then we're gonna do yoga," you beam. "so you could relax. you're always so tense."

kageyama pulls his phone app, and you assume he's opening the notes app. "okay."

"swimming. then skydiving. camping. joining those bike marathon thingies. oh! pottery. i think you'd like pottery."

"do we really have to do skydiving?" he shivers a little; partly from the cold, partly from the image of falling from the sky with the chance of dying. "i don't think that's a hobby that will help me with volleyball. i think that would just make me want to stay on the court."

you roll your eyes. "whatever. add cooking. unless you already know how to."

"just a little."

"add cooking."

his fingers type on the letters, the click-clacks emitting from his phone mingling with the soft breeze's gentle whisper. "anything else?"

"i kinda wanna keep the others a surprise." you smile, flashing him a bit of your teeth between your lips. the wisps of your hair fall on your cheeks, and your eyes almost smile at him. "done taking a break? i wanna run again."

kageyama stands up, putting his phone on his pocket. you kick your feet off the bench and place them on the ground, stretching your arms.

you start before he does. he feels a thread of nervousness coursing through his veins, tying it around each tendril. there's doubt knocking on his head telling him that at some point of this "life-coaching" of yours would eventually fuck up whatever it is that you have now.

he wouldn't want to fuck up twice.

his feet jogs himself up at your pace, his heart twinging at the smile you give him.

—

september 2014

senior year meant mandatory swim classes. which meant that kageyama would skip class for the 63rd time since his freshman year.

the table was jovial with excitement, albeit it seems that tsukishima was voicing the similar disdain towards swimming. "getting dressed in front of you guys is enough." he reasoned.

hinata and yamaguchi beam in excitement, mostly because they both knew they would be given free time to play around the pool. and since the boys and girls were separated, you and yachi made a silent vow to stick with one another.

"tobio," you placed your hand on his shoulder. he jumped out of his daze, food in mouth, his head turning to look at you, and you debate on telling him to stop looking at you like that, because while a second ago he seemed horrified, now he looked at you like you'd given him a miracle to be saved. "you alright?"

"yes." his head nodded, putting another broccoli in his occupied mouth. "i don't want to go swimming."

"me neither," you giggled. your hand was still on his shoulder, burning onto his uniform and seeping through his skin. kageyama fought hard not to blush. "i promised yachi though, so. please don't skip."

"okay." okay, i'll still skip.

"kageyama," hinata bumped his shoulder. "let's race to see who swims fastest."

"i don't want to, dumbass," kageyama snarled. "i want to eat lunch. let's see who gets to finish first."

their petulance had always interested you. their relationship would always trick people into thinking they despised one another, but no one ever really saw their true bond and how close they were. you laughed at the way they would swallow their food directly and at the way yachi had begin to voice her concern on choking and something about the heimlich maneuver.

in front of you, yamaguchi and tsukishima's slowly blooming ("platonic" they said, defending) relationship seemed to quietly berate the two.

later that day, you'd lost yachi with your other classmates right after you ascend from the pool. you quickly got yourself dressed, hair dripping wet and leaving streaks of water down the back of your blouse, and searched for her.

you found yourself inside the gym five minutes later, seeing that the doors were unlocked. but when you peeked, the sight of her bright blonde hair was nowhere to be seen.

a muffled cluttering sound startled you.

"hello?"

your voice echoed in the empty gym.

"(y/n)?"

kageyama's nervousness rang at every corner of the gymnasium. you saw him peek his head out from the closet, eyes wide. you furrowed your eyebrows.

"what the fuck are you doing there?" you asked hastily, walking towards him. "you're supposed to be at the pool—"

he yanked you towards him, inside the closet and closing the door behind him. it hadn't registered to you that kageyama began hearing footsteps approaching the gym and it put his heart at an alarming rate. your mouth snapped shut, hiding behind his body, your hair leaving droplets on his uniform.

then there's muffled conversation, a few laughs, a tone that mimicked questioning, and then you heard the doors slam shut. you froze.

"how are we going to get out?" you panicked, voice small and a whisper, even though you're certain that a normal volume would've sufficed.

"calm down," he scowled. "i have the keys with me. how'd you think i got in here in the first place?"

he pulled the keys out and twirled them in his finger. relief defeats the panic that settled on your face, though a smile never rose out of you. but it was enough for kageyama to reassure you. he walked to you, resting his back against one of the shelves beside you, keeping a distance that could've looked like he wasn't giving you any sort of distance at all.

"what are you doing here?" he asked, arms crossed. you took the keys off his hands, clutching it in your fist, and couldn't help yourself but sneer at him.

"you said you'd go to the class."

"i only said okay, doesn't mean i'm agreeing."

you gawped. "that is agreeing!"

"you didn't answer my question." he instilled. "what are you doing here?"

you scratched the back of your neck, fingertips dampened from your slowly drying hair, chlorine and faint conditioner evident through the scent. "i lost yachi. i thought she could be here 'cause the doors were open."

he showed his acknowledgement through a hum, no words leaving him. you sighed and approached the door, twisting the doorknob and peaked through the small slit you created.

"i should probably go," you said, looking back at him. "we should probably go."

you give him a stern look, vexated at his lie. kageyama pushed himself off the shelf, walking towards you, and you thought that maybe he'd decided to follow your orders, but instead his arm reaches out to pull the door close.

the brightness from the outside is only evident through the cracks beneath and between the doors, the only light in the dark room. kageyama stood in front of you, both of you leaning your bodies against the metal door.

your heart beated a little faster, the sound reverberating in your ears. you hope he doesn't hear how fast it gets with the way he slowly leaned closer to you, his head tilted just the slighesg, hair falling just above his eyebrows.

his eyes are dark, but there's a little shine at the edge of his irises, his gaze soft. his lips are parted the slightest, tongue coming out to gloss the dried skin. you swallow thickly.

it felt too oddly intimate to be in a situation like this with a friend you've known since the beginning of junior high. and you wondered if it was inappropriate of you to blush wildly; if it was disrespectful of you to want to tiptoe the edge of your friendship just because you're in a closet with him hiding as if you'd both be shot dead and you're enjoying the last, quiet moments together.

you knew you've never seen him as more than a friend. at least, that was what you've manipulated yourself to think. you convinced your excitement to see him as a way to be excited to start your day. you tell yourself you're concerned for his safety because you worry his sister would eat you up if he'd gotten hurt without you rather than because you wouldn't want him to get hurt in general.

you forced him to take breaks from volleyball because you poke fun at his lack of social life, not because you worry he may drive himself away from you from his over enthusiasm and passion.

you do not feel lovesick over kageyama.

and he thought that the look on your face— surprised, blushing, wide eyed— was the most endearing sight out of all endearing sights. the corner of his lip tugs upward, his teeth beginning to poke out of his awkward smile.

"we don't have classes right after," he reasoned. "we could stay here for a few more minutes."

"you-" you point your finger to his chest, nail digging on his shirt and onto his thick skin. "-have practice. i have a student council meeting and volleyball training at the local court, thanks to your fucking greedy asses, by the way. both of which will start in like-... uh...-"

"seven minutes." he cocked a brow. "let's stay here until then."

so you did.

you sat on the floor and ate the snacks he had on his bag, cross legged, on opposite sides. you started the conversation by asking when the nationals were, and that if it fit right into your schedule, you could bring the student council to up the level of the cheerleading team for karasuno. kageyama beamed at your offer.

your phone lit up, a notification bar on the screen, and he knew what your wallpaper was– it was the six of you, on one of the carnivals last june, on the ferris wheel that showed hinata yelling out the edge, tsukishima gripping on the sides for his dear life, yachi and yamaguchi laughing at the chaos they ensued;

you, holding the phone up, with kageyama beside you, smiling with his eyes set on your laughing figure.

he saw the way your eyes lingered on the screen for a moment before you tapped on the text, screen brightening, your fingers tapping on the keyboard.

"who's that?" he asked, curiosity undecided if he should be jealous (and deny it) or be relieved.

"kuroo-san," you said. "he's inviting you guys to play at nekoma next week. says he and the old team are visiting to check out the new team, and he thought it would be great if you guys fought with them again...? what...?"

"why is he texting you, though?" he shoves a hello panda in his mouth. "shouldn't he text yachi? or literally anyone else."

"i don't think he has her number."

"why does he have your number?"

"because hinata gave it to him."

he swore to murder him after 7 minutes.

"i'll tell them," he said, forced to give you a smile; forced to hide the distaste on his tongue at the thought of kuroo sending you a text. "you gonna come?"

"maybe, i could play, too, bring my team so we could finally play at a court where we wouldn't have to share with kids." you scowl at him. "can you impress me for a hundredth time?"

he'd take that chance at any given moment.

—

kageyama finds himself on the court again after your jog. the cold air still fresh on his damp skin, the sound of your voice still evident even if you'd already left almost an hour ago to meet up with your team one last time.

"so, how'd it go?"

hinata plays with the ball on the other side of the court, bouncing it between the floor and his palm. kageyama shrugs, placing his towel on top of his gym bag.

"she said we'll start tomorrow," he answers, walking towards the net, fingers poking through the square slots. "i'm nervous about this."

"i think it's a big mistake." hinata blurts out, his hand immediately covering his mouth. his wide eyes do nothing but start the fuse in kageyama's temper.

"what do you mean it's a big mistake?" he ducks between the net, towering over his shaking friend, who walks backwards and shoots him an ever nervous grin.

"i'm just saying– i mean well, we've talked here and then, and she hasn't exactly– dude, you're scaring me–"

kageyama stops in his tracks, sighing heavily with a hand on his forehead. "exactly what, hinata?"

his friend shakes his arms, snapping them. his right hand comes up to his left and rotates it, looking at kageyama like he hadn't scared him beforehand. "she hasn't exactly forgotten about what you did, you know. i mean its nice of you to take the chance and make up for what you did, but if you ever fuck up again, i don't think she'll be as forgiving as last time."

"i won't fuck up." he scowls, going back to his side.

"and if she finds out you only did this to keep her from getting that job with kuroo-san?"

kageyama places his hands on his hips, looking up yo the ceiling. it was high; the lights a bit blinding, the basketball hoop folded upwards to keep out of the way from high serves. his eyes close and counts to three, until he feels his nerves calm down, before looking back at hinata.

"has he mentioned it to her?"

"i don't think he has." hinata says. "i don't think he's forgotten, either."

"okay."

"kageyama," he begins, looking at him warningly. "if she finds out you're only doing this so that you won't lose her– so that she'd be here with you, she's not going to like it."

"i know that."

"then stop whatever it is that you're doing!"

"whatever, man! i'm doing her a favor," he spins the ball in his palm, squishing it with the other. kageyama glares at his orange hair, not at his eyes– because he doesn't want to actually make him feel that he was mad at him. "she said she quit because she didn't want to be associated with volleyball anymore. kuroo's offer is associated with volleyba-"

"an offer is an offer, kageyama, it's her decision to decline it or not," hinata sighs. "don't confuse her. don't make her fall again. don't make things even more complicated than it already is."

kageyama feels the gasoline inside him about to burst, his eyebrows furrowing further, scowl deepening. he throws the ball into the air, and jumps at the right time to serve. hinata, thrown off guard, ducks and covers his head with his hands as the ball hits the wall behind him.

hinata looks back at him with wide eyed anger. "you- you jerk!"

he runs to him, diving beneath the net to tackle his legs. kageyama falls to his back, his yell echoing, wrapping his legs around hinata's neck.

his anger, albeit predictable, is rooted on something he can't identify. he knows he's mad at hinata, but he also knows it's not exactly the actual cause. there's a deep set of guilt planted in him that coalesces with the anger he decides to displace on others. maybe it's because he knows that hinata's right— that the offer kuroo was supposed to propose was yours to accept or decline; it wasn't his position to keep you from doing so.

but at the same time, he knows that if he hadn't done anything— even if he could— to keep you here, with him, while he's slowly easing the pain he'd caused you, he would die with the regret he'd feel. and even so, he would do anything to get you back.

so at the feeling of his head meeting the floor, kageyama is snapped into a dilemma of morals and deluded wants. hinata pins him to the ground, knees on either side of his hips, looking disappointedly down on his heaving friend.

"we haven't fought this hard since freshman year," he laughs tiredly. "she's my friend, kageyama. and you're my friend either. i don't want you both to be hurt to the point where it affects all of us. i was honestly surprised that she was able to act normally after the shit you pulled. she was that afraid to lose you."

hinata pushes himself off him, offering his hand to kageyama. he takes it, pulling him off the ground. "please don't tell her."

kageyama could see him contemplate. he knows how easy hinata is to control under pressure, most especially if it included his guilty conscience in honor of a friend— he can't bring himself to lie. he was never a liar at the expense of someone.

but if it was something he had to do for the people that he cared for...

"okay," he says in his pleading gaze. "i can keep quiet. but i don't know when kuroo will bring this up to her. she'll find out eventually."

"i'll tell her myself."

—

after spending five hours in relishing the exhilarating thrill of spiking a ball across the court, his free training is cut "short" when his phone begins to ring.

doused in sweat, he walks to the bench where his bag resides. hinata plops down to the ground, elbows on his knees, panting. kageyama picks up his phone and sees your icon—

in a small circle, with a smile, in the karasuno uniform with your hair in a ponytail. he does not remember the day the picture was taken nor what the event was, but he swears he's had the same icon of yours since high school, even after he'd switched the phone.

he clicks the green telephone button.

"hello?"

"are you at the court?" there's a busy crowd behind you. you sound uncomfortable.

"no."

"don't lie."

"yes."

you laugh, he blushes. "okay. can i come there if it's okay? we've got matters to discuss."

he says yes and you're there 20 minutes later. you discard the thick coat off your shoulders, revealing something that looked too comfortable to be considered as casual— literally a large shirt and sweatpants.

"ey, (y/n)!" hinata comes up to give you a one-armed hug, trying not to get you wet with his sweat. you smile at him, sitting down on the bench beside kageyama's bag.

"hey, sho-chan." you beam. "mind if i'm here for a short while?"

"i don't mind if you stayed here until midnight." he laughs, sitting down crossed legged in front of you on the floor. kageyama sits on the same bench, his bag dividing the two of you.

"so what's up?" he wipes his face with a towel. do players actually sweat this much?

"so i got a call from your management," you begin, taking your phone out and opening your notes app. "i took in minutes of the meeting as a habit. anyway, so your pr manager told me that we can't exactly be seen together all the time unless we want people to think that we're dating. yuck."

the emphasis on your yuck makes him laugh out the pain.

"anyway, so she said we can't do whatever it is that you want all the time. we either have to do it with your friends, the two of us on a very private area, or just you alone." you explain. "so i decided to, like, create a list of all the things we should do. and i also need you to sign this contract because i'm not doing this forever."

a soft copied contract he assumes is sent by his management is displayed on your phone as you hand it to him. you zoom in on his name, types in capital letters beneath a line where his digital signature is to be placed. with a shaky finger, he writes his signature.

you stutter. "you- you didn't even read it."

"i don't want to."

"you have to," you roll your eyes. "okay so, your management says that i have to do this life-coaching shit of yours only until your next big match."

"which is in a few months." hinata butts in, a granola bar in hand.

a few months. he has a few months with you.

a few months of making up for the damage he caused. a few months to change the way you act around him. a few months to keep you with him. kageyama doesn't know what happens after then— maybe you'd already found out the offer kuroo ought to give you, and maybe you'd take it with no hesitation, leaving him behind.

the stress of lying catches up with the way his stomach twists and his tongue loses its taste. the hollow feeling of nervousness emits from the way his palms begin to sweat. he feels pressured to plan already— to figure out what to do right after the contract ends; what to say when you found out he interfered with a major opportunity.

"yeah. so. i also can't interfere nor be the cause of your downfall in volleyball or they will sue me." you bite your bottom lip. "is that even possible? like, defamation?"

"what's defamation?" kageyama asks, fingertips fiddling with the cap of his waterbottle. you huff.

"it's by ruining one's reputation by creating false statements. i'd do that if you piss me off," you jest, going back to your phone and scrolling. kageyama thinks of it as a real threat. "anyway, so i will have to ask your teammates or friends to come join us for the following weeks, although i do prefer if you also do it."

he frowns. "why me?"

"because you hired me and it's also your job to be less of a pain in the ass," you poke the space between his eyebrows. he groans, grasping your wrist and pull it down from his face.

hinata's eyes narrow at the sight of two tinted cheeks.

you break free from him. "i'll be sending you the list tomorrow. i'll get going now."

kageyama stops you from slinging your bag over your shoulder, a hand on one of the straps. "how'd you get here?"

you make a confused face. "uh. by bus?"

"let me drive you home."

"i'm fine, tobio," you laugh lightly, standing up, adjusting the strap on your shoulder. "it's only one bus ride. plus, i don't think hinata's done with practicing yet—"

"we're done!" hinata claps his shoulder, squeezing it, tight enough to make him uncomfortable. kageyama glares at him through his peripherals. "it's fine. i'll close up."

it's gotten to the point where hinata had pushed the both of you off outside the court and into the parking lot.

kageyama almost feels desolated— the silence caused by confusion almost deemed you a ghost, thus making him feel like he was lost in a very crowded parking lot. but when you nudge his shoulder, and the look on your face was replaced with a small smile, he takes his keys out of the pocket of his gym bag, his car beeping not too far.

you sit on the passenger side, quickly buckling your seat belt and dropping your bag on your lap. kageyama shuts the door and sticks the key in the ignition, a random song on the radio playing as it lights up blue.

no one says a word during the drive.

you can sense the tension was brought by thoughts that are wanted to be shared but never spoken. something about the past— the past you'd tried to forgotten; the past kageyama was trying to mend. it was not because of the sudden professional relationship created by the both of you.

(it actually also was that.)

the ride was short— maybe five songs had passed and three ad breaks. he parks just at the side, where he wouldn't be told off, and you unbuckled your seatbelt.

"thanks for the ride," you say, finally. he sucks in a breath of relief.

"no problem." and just when you're about to reach out and leave, he puts his hand on your wrist again. you stop on your movements, looking back at him over your shoulder.

"is something the matter?"

"why'd you take it?" kageyama asks, his hand still on your wrist. you blink at him, sitting back down and resting your back on the car seat. but his hand now hovers over your burning skin.

your eyebrows furrow. "what do you mean?"

"why'd you take the job if it sounded stupid?"

you look into his eyes. kageyama looked unsure— almost in disbelief. he seems to be doubting you at this moment which almost brings a scoff out of you. his bottom lip is quickly bitten, a habit of anxiousness.

"i told you– it's a starter job. it's not easy to get a job while i'm still in college. i kinda need the money as soon as possible too, y'know? i'm not exactly a pro athlete so i don't get paid—"

"why are you helping me?" he urges. kageyama leans over the transmission, a hand on the wheel. his elbow is placed on the shoulder of your seat, and he's unbelievably close to you that you feel his hot breath. "you could've taken a job at a cafe. tsukishima could've helped you with it. or yachi-san. so why did you accept my last minute offer?"

it was like he was searching for a reason for your sudden acceptance at an incredulous offer for a job that he made up. he wanted to know the reason behind it— maybe something that could get his hopes up on fixing a relationship that's barely even there; something that could feed on his nightly routine of delusions about you and what could have been.

your eyes flicker between his. kageyama has always had intense eyes. too intense that you can't decipher what he's actually feeling sometimes. but even so, they're the only ones you're forcing yourself to look at— because he's so close. there's barely any friendly proximity between the two of you. you're afraid of glancing down his lips to avoid any miscommunication; you don't look at anywhere else because you don't want to seem shy.

your heart starts to beat faster. you curse it.

"because you're my friend," you murmur. "and i'm actually concerned about your obsession with volleyball."

kageyama leans back just the slightest, but you can still feel his heat.

"i've always wanted to help you lessen your obsession since high school, y'know? at least this time i'm– i'm getting paid."

"you still want to help me even after—"

"i don't want to talk about it, kageyama."

it seems as if you knew what he was going to say. the sudden use of his surname, the softness that immediately hardened at the memory flashing in your mind; the guard you instantly put up. kageyama's heart twinges, leaning back on his seat.

he expects you to leave him and slam the door, watching you walk towards your building.

instead, he feels your hand on his.

your hand on his.

his head snaps to you, twitching slightly. your fingers squeeze the back of his hand a little, offering him a sad smile.

"i care for you," you say. "i hope you don't abuse it again."

kageyama feels like he's been holding his breath for years.

you exit his car and close it properly, crossing the front and enter your building. he watches you disappear behind the doors of your elevator, and he thinks you may have been looking at him as well.

the feeling you leave on his hand remains. he puts it on his chest, placing his other hand on top of it, and feels the way his heart skips multiple beats that he considers rushing to the hospital.

nervous. guilt. an unfamiliar sensation on his belly that rises up to his chest filled with heat.

he does not want to fuck this up.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#hq kageyama #kageyama tobio x reader #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #tobio kageyama #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyu fluff #haikyu #haikyuu fluff

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hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform · 21 days ago

Text

Kinktober 2024 Day Twenty One

Aphrodisiac

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Gaz… Gaz!” Soap burst the door to Gaz’s room open without even knocking.

Gaz straightened up from stacking his bags away, the annoyance quickly fading as he took in Soap’s manic appearance. He must have run in straight from the tarmac. His gear was still on, helmet hanging from his hand, eye black streaked across his face, streaking with sweat as he wiped his face on his gloves, breathing heavily.

“What happened?” Gaz dropped the bag he was holding.

“It’s… It’s bad. You have to come.” Soap beckoned.

“What?” Gaz shoved his feet into his trainers, bending the backs beneath his heels as he hurried out of the room after Soap. The undone laces flapped with each pace, making it hard for Gaz to keep as Soap lead him across the base, into the officer’s barracks with nary a greeting to the guard on the door.

Gaz started to get an idea of why Soap was so anxious when he pulled Gaz to a stop outside of Ghost’s door, raising his hand to knock. “Ghost? I got Gaz, he’s out here. Let him in, yeah?”

“Once you’re gone.” Simon’s strained voice came from the other side of the door. It was close, like he was hovering just on the other side of the wood, even with the audible anxiety in his voice. What was really weird, thought, was that Ghost was sending Soap away. Ghost would never do that.

“What the hell is going on?” Gaz glanced at Soap for answers, only to see Soap speedwalking away from him down the hallway.

Soap stopped at the corner, visible fatigue settling onto his shoulders as he called back to Gaz. “Just, go and see if he’s okay. He asked for you, wouldn’t see me, or Price. Go, see. If there’s time, call one of us, tell us what’s happening.”

Gaz watched Soap disappear around the corner, mouth still hanging open from his unanswered questions. He closed it, shook his head, and turned back to Ghost’s door. “He’s gone, Simon. It’s just me out here.”

Simon cracked the door open, enough that Gaz could see one of his eyes. “Is he really gone?”

“Yeah.” Gaz nodded. “I can take him, keep him away if he comes back, you know.”

“Yeah. I know.” Ghost sighed, and widened the door to reveal more of his appearance. His face was flushed pink, his hair askew, the eye black smudged around his eyes, running from sweat that was beading on his skin.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” Gaz glanced down to Ghost’s gear. It was half removed, and had been done haphazardly, out of order, like he was in a desperate rush.

“Inside.” Ghost widened the door a little more, stepping back to let Gaz slip into the room.

Gaz looked around the room as Ghost locked the door behind him. Usually, the place was sparsely decorated, containing the standard bed, cupboard, desk and chair, with the only sign it was occupied at all being the sheets on the bed, and a book on the desk. While none of them used their barracks frequently, with how often they were away, travelling, Ghost went out of his way to avoid using this space, instead preferring to weasel his way into one of Gaz, Soap or Price’s rooms instead.

That’s what made it so unusual for Gaz to see pieces of Ghost’s gear strewn about on the floor. There was his helmet, torn away, separated from his mask; his boots were overturned against the wall; there were his spare mags, one there, another here, pressed under the toe of Gaz’s shoe; Ghost’s phone, with a fresh new crack across the screen; some flares carelessly tossed aside to roll where they please; his radio pack, with the cables spooling across the floor to its receiver.

Gaz turned back to face him. “Simon? Really, what’s going on with you?”

“I need your help. Please.” Simon spoke in a small voice, his hands swaying anxiously at his sides, before his fingers twitched, and they snapped up, fiddling with the straps on his vest. “The op went a bit… sideways. I got… sprayed with something, some kind of drug.”

“Okay. How am I helping?” Gaz reached out and took over the job of undoing what was left of Ghost’s gear, making quicker progress with his steady hands compared to Ghost’s shaking ones.

“Fuck…” Ghost swallowed. “Dunno. Price said, the file said, it was supposed to be some kind of sex drug. I’m so… horny.”

Ghost grimaced at the word, like he couldn’t believe he would say something that sounded so juvenile, but he couldn’t think of a better way to describe his predicament. Gaz managed to get the straps on the vest undone and tugged it off over Simon’s head, glancing down as he laid the vest on the floor, his eyebrows raising when he saw the bulge threatening to burst out of Ghost’s jeans.

“I see that now. Hurts there, then?”

Simon nodded.

“Okay. I’ll get you sorted. Let’s get you out of these, too.” Gaz gently stripped Ghost out of his shirt and jeans, pulling him over to his own bed and sitting him down as Gaz helped him push his boxers off. Gaz leant back, frowning when he saw Ghost’s cock. It was… bigger than he remembered it, flushed red and almost visibly throbbing. Ghost shivered when it was exposed to the air, letting out what could only be described as a whimper.

“It’s okay, Simon. I’m here.” Gaz caught his hands against Ghost’s thighs, trying to settle him, starting at the moan Ghost let out, his hands flying to land on top of Gaz’s, keeping them there against his skin.

“Feels… That feels better.”

“Better when I touch you, yeah?” Gaz slowly shifted up, careful to not move his hands too much. “Want more skin?”

Ghost nodded and reluctantly let Gaz’s hands go, compromising to himself by reaching up to try and help Gaz strip. He unfortunately hindered more than he helped, tugging on clothes like they would tear away at the seams and reveal Gaz’s skin to him, but Gaz managed to chuck his long sleeve shirt and joggers aside still intact, his trainers long abandoned somewhere in the mess of Ghost’s gear.

Gaz didn’t have time to get his boxers off as Ghost finally grabbed his hips and dragged Gaz down to the bed, half cuddling him and half trying to climb into Gaz’s lap, only managing to get one leg up over Gaz’s as he pressed their chests together.

Gaz moved his hands to either side of Simon’s face, concerned about how hot Ghost’s skin felt under his touch. “How you doing, Simon?”

“Bit better.” Ghost kept Gaz close to him, holding him tight as Gaz ran his hand down Ghost’s side and landed on his thigh again.

“What’re we wanting to do?”

“Need… Need to come so bad.” Ghost’s voice edged into a whine, his brow creasing as he struggled to produce an idea that would fix his predicament.

“How about I jerk you off? Nice and gentle.” Gaz looped his other hand under Simon’s arm and rubbed his back, letting Ghost curl into him. He clutched Gaz’s body tight, radiating heat off his skin as he tucked his head into Gaz’s neck. “See if that clears your head a bit.”

“Yes. Good.” Ghost kept one hand on Gaz’s shoulder, moving the other to grab Gaz’s knees to ensure the leg slung over Gaz’s lap stayed there, as Gaz raised his hand to Ghost’s cock.

Simon sobbed when Gaz touched it, curling even tighter against him. Gaz shook his head, trying to stay focused, as concern about how hot Ghost’s skin was feeling flooded his head. Simon only seemed to be getting warmer as Gaz wrapped his hand around his cock.

Ghost was normally big when he was hard, but this was something else. Gaz curled his hand around as much as he could, swallowing when he realised that his thumb only just met the tips of his fingers. He didn’t want to even imagine how painful this must be for Ghost. He immediately started to jerk him off, gasping as he felt Ghost’s cock twitch under his fingers, somehow still getting hotter, as Ghost shook against him, heaving in each of his breaths.

Gaz set a rhythm as best he could while keeping his eyes trained on the little bit of Ghost’s face he could see, trying to monitor him, to make sure he was okay, and that this was in fact helping, and not making it worse.

Gaz only looked away when he felt his hand getting noticeably wet, his eyes widening when he saw that Ghost had come, and come a lot. More than was humanly possible, a lot. It was still gushing out of Ghost’s cock, running over Gaz’s hand to spill down onto Ghost’s thighs and again to the sheets below.

Ghost was still hard through it all, too. He was running less hot though, and had stopped shaking. After a moment, Ghost took a concentrated deep breath and slowly lifted his head, letting Gaz see his face again.

“Better?” Gaz asked.

“Much.” Ghost answered, and kissed him. “Thanks.”

Gaz kept his hand on Ghost’s cock, slowly moving it as he cradled the man in his arms and tried to work out what to do next. “Still horny?”

Ghost nodded. “Less… but yeah.”

“Keep going, then? Get you up against those pillows.” Gaz nodded up the bed.

“Sure.” Ghost allowed the pair of them to shuffle up over the sheets, propping their heads against the pillows as they stretched out. Gaz was even allowed to get into a more comfortable position, lying out at Ghost’s side, slowly rutting his dick against Ghost’s thigh through his boxers as he continued stroking Ghost’s cock.

“Thanks.” Ghost said again, gently rubbing the back of Gaz’s neck.

“No worries.”

“No, I mean it. For taking me seriously. Not teasing me, or…”

“Of course not.” Gaz glanced up at him. “You couldn’t have taken that.”

“Yeah. That’s why I asked for you.” Ghost swallowed. “You have this instinct, where you can keep your head in any situation. You immediately know when it’s time to square up and be serious.”

“Soap knew it was serious.” Gaz mumbled.

“Only because I told him to go away.” Ghost sighed. “It’s not that he, or Price, wouldn’t have helped with it…”

“But they wouldn’t do it as caringly as me?”

“Yeah. Caring king over here.” Ghost mumbled, then groaned, more cum leaking down over Gaz’s fingers. “Fuck, this drug’s a mad number.”

“Sure is.” Gaz gently kissed Ghost’s arm, the only skin he could reach. “I got you though.”

“I know.” Ghost shifted, catching his thigh against Gaz’s covered dick. “Let me know when you come?”

“I’m not cumming until you’re all worked out.”

“Don’t.” Ghost stiffened up. “Don’t do yourself like that. Edging like that is cruel.”

“Okay… Okay.” Gaz gently rubbed Simon’s shoulder. “I won’t. Just, let me take care of you.”

Ghost nodded, settlimwng down with his eyes half closed. “But you’ll let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gaz squeezed the dick in his hand. “Yeah.”

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godzillatalks · 22 days ago

Text

The door opens with a hiss, but Rodimus doesn't even have to look up to see who it was— militaristically quiet and carefully measured pedesteps from a mech far lighter than him already giving away exactly who entered the room.

"Fancy seeing you again, scout." Rodimus snorts, finally dragging his optics away from the actually unimportant data pad to watch Bumblebee stride over to the desk in the middle of the room. The yellow bot doesn't turn to look at Rodimus, grumbling quietly as he sets down the reports he'd brought in onto Optimus' desk.

"Why're you here, fire hazard? I thought you were supposed to be causing troubles elsewhere. As in, not on Cybertron. At all." Bumblebee glares at Rodimus out of the corners of sharply narrowed optics. The Prime just grins at him, sharp teeth shimmering in the synthetic light.

"Oh, maybe it's 'cause my dad kept me around for a reason," Rodimus drawls, voice cutting through the air like an arrow aimed straight at Bumblebee's composure; something he struggled to keep together in the first place. He grits his dentae together, swiveling on the heel of his pede to respond to the fiery colored bot, but Rodimus continues before Bee can get the words out.

"Y'know, cause he actually needs me?" Rodimus' head tilts oh so slightly, tone lilted and taunting as he tapped right at the center of his chest, where his half of the Matrix resided, with a sharp digit.

Bumblebee doesn't let himself think before he lunges with a right hook.

It connects harshly with Rodimus' chin and he drops the data pad he had been holding, the fragile thing crashing to the floor, screen shattering into chunky shards that skittered across the floor alongside Rodimus, sent skidding backward from the sheer force behind Bumblebee's punch.

His inner temperature rises, heat raging from the core of his spark and outward through every line of energon in his frame. Fire flashes from the chrome piping winding around his arms and legs, cerulean optics shifting to a dark and angry, storming blue.

"Oh, because he needs you?" The scout sneers, his own optics flaring near white with anger. "The kid who wasn't even around during the war, who let his own father die—"

Bumblebee is cut off when Rodimus charges at him with a roar of rage, sharp digits extended and ready to tear, flames pouring from the pipes on his arms as if he could drown the other bot in flames, even if now they were just for show.

He could, in a sense.

Bumblebee barely rolls out of the way, feeling the heat of the flames score nasty (but superficial) burns into his paint job as he ducked under the anger-fueled lunge. He aims a fist as he moves, sending it hard into Rodimus' side.

Rodimus' plating burns. Bumblebee recoils in pain at the same time Rodimus does from the punch. He shouldn't have been surprised.

Rodimus, of course, immediately takes advantage of the slight hesitation, wrapping clawed servos around Bumblebee's throat and slamming him into the floor. Plating sizzles on contact between them, the sheer temperature of Rodimus' frame enough to make paint bubble. His servos burn indents into Bumblebee's throat cabling.

Bumblebee doesn't even scream. He can't. Primus damn, it hurts. But he'll keep fighting.

His servos twist around Rodimus' forearm, pushing through the pain to toss the larger bot off of himself with a well anchored and executed jerk of his arms to the side.

Rodimus is sent rolling, sliding to a stop with his claws dug into the floor. Bumblebee heaves himself onto his front, one servo tentatively pressing at his now fried throat. (Voicebox fine. Just hurts.)

They're just about to jump at each other again, optics shimmering with a long burning fire of jealousy and hatred for the other, when the door slides open.

Optimus squints at the two mechs on the floor of his office.

"What in Primus' name..?" He mumbles, glancing to Rodimus and then to Bumblebee.

Immediately, they point at each other.

"It was his fault." In unison, they speak, Bumblebee's voice laced with pained static and Rodimus' dripping with layers of venom.

Optimus pinches his nasal ridge and sighs.

#gojitalks #tf au #transformers writing #tf writing #girl idk its been a while #tf rescue bots academy au #<- insane right LAMOOO #i love it tho even if its not mine #rodimus prime #bumblebee #optimus prime #rid15 bumblebee #im sorry rodimus is an ass but that's how he is here 😒#off topic if u have criticism i'd be GLAD to hear it please lmk

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sephirthoughts · 22 days ago

Text

Just Like Honey: Chapter 9

SOMEONE PHOTOSHOP GLASSES ONTO A PICTURE OF REEVE PLEASE I NEED IT FOR REASONS

AU: organized crime, cabaret, sex work

SHIPS: MULTIPLE! rufus/cloud, vincent/cloud, sephiroth/cloud, reeve/cloud, rufus/cloud/tseng, cloud/other characters as clients because that's his job, weiss/nero, background aerti

RATING: EXPLICIT, MINORS DNI, NO MINORS ALLOWED

WARNINGS: sex workers, prostitution

Chapter 9: Friends in High Places

Leslie and Cloud’s old tenement apartment and Reeve’s Shinra Tower penthouse represented the bookends of residential living situations in Midgar. Expansive didn’t begin to describe Reeve’s place, and the entirety of it had clearly been furnished by a professional decorator.

Overworked, oblivious Reeve probably didn’t even notice how gorgeous the mahogany bookshelves were, or how supple the calfskin leather on the couches, or how thick and plushy the hand-woven Persian rugs. To him, this palatial residence was a box he went into, once in a while, to sleep and shower.

In all fairness, Cloud hardly noticed, either, because Reeve answered the door wearing a cable knit, v-neck sweater, grey slacks, and a pair of—

“Glasses!” Cloud gasped, pointing accusingly at Reeve’s face. “And you didn’t even warn me!”

“Uh…sorry. Do you not like them?” said the understandably confused Reeve, reaching up, to take them off.

“Nuh-uh! Don’t you dare!”

Cloud kicked the door shut behind him, dropped his bag, and grabbed Reeve, dragging him into a kiss. Reeve was too startled to react for a second, then he gave a soft groan and leaned into it, letting his hands roam hungrily over Cloud’s taut little body, as they fumbled their way to the sofa and fell onto it, without breaking the kiss.

“I guess—I guess you like the glasses, then,” Reeve said breathlessly, when Cloud released him.

“No fucking way, they’re flat-out cheating!” Cloud complained. “You’re already that hot, and you really have the nerve to pull out the sexy-dad glasses and sweater look? Rules violation, unfair play!”

Reeve chuckled. “Wow. No one’s ever said I look like a dad before.”

“Maybe not to your face. I bet a lot of little Shinra employees call you daddy behind your back.”

“You’re making me sound a lot more attractive than I really am. Trust me, there’s no way anyone at work thinks of me that way.”

“Oh, no. It’s just as I feared,” Cloud lamented, cupping Reeve’s face in his hands. “Overwork has fried your brain, and you’re living in a delusion where you’re not one of the sexiest men alive.”

“W—what?” Reeve stammered. “I’m not even close to one of the sexiest men alive. Especially not when men like you exist.”

“We don’t count.”

“Oh?”

“Yep. In the interest of fairness, athletic twinks have our own separate category. Otherwise, all other men would always lose to us.”

Reeve laughed again. “Well, you’re not wrong about that.”

Cloud couldn’t help but smile, too. “You’re a lot happier when you’re not in that stuffy office. Speaking of which, I’m gonna go change into something a little more comfortable. That ok?”

“Yes, please. Make yourself at home. The bathroom is the third door, there. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yeah, anything’s fine. Whatever you’re drinking.”

When Cloud returned from the bathroom, Reeve choked on his sip of wine, coughing and sputtering into a napkin. “Holy—holy shit! You can’t say I’m cheating, when you’re wearing that!”

“What, this old thing?” Cloud said innocently, while doing a little twirl, to demonstrate that the pink-lace short-shorts laced up in the back, with a pink ribbon. With the matching camisole and slippers, he was basically dressed like he was playing a teenaged girl in a naughty sleepover porn.

“You said you wanted the girlfriend experience, so I dressed accordingly.”

“If I had a girlfriend who dressed like that, I’d never leave the house,” Reeve muttered.

“So, what do you feel like doing tonight, honey-bunny?” Cloud crooned, accepting the glass of white wine Reeve was holding out to him. “Want to snuggle up on the couch and pretend to watch a movie?”

“I, uh…yeah. That sounds good,” Reeve said awkwardly.

“Or, how about I give you a neck rub, and you tell me about your day.”

“Sure.”

Cloud narrowed his eyes. “Don’t just agree to whatever I say. I’m here to make you happy. If there’s something you want, I want to hear it.”

“No, no I don’t—well, maybe. Ok, yes. But it’s kind of…embarrassing.”

“Good news. If there’s anyone you don’t need to be embarrassed telling about it, it’s me. You’re the one who told me sex workers are like therapists. So, treat me like that. A safe space.”

“Hoo boy.” Reeve passed a hand across his forehead. “It’s just, I know it probably isn’t a cool fantasy to have, and I’d never want to do anything like that in real life, I just—”

“Hey,” Cloud interrupted, taking his hand to squeeze it. “Every kind of fantasy is ok. It doesn’t matter what you get turned on by. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

Reeve looked unconvinced. “Are you…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You could tell me you daydream about fucking cartoon hedgehogs, and I still wouldn’t judge you. As long as it’s just fantasy, or you express it as part of consensual play between adults, literally anything is ok.”

“Well…alright.” Reeve took a deep breath and let it out. “Here goes. I would like it if you could pretend to…to be asleep, while I touch you and…do things to you.”

Cloud blinked. “Is that really what you were worried about telling me? Then it’s no sweat, I’ve done plenty of somno play.”

“Somno?”

“Somnophilia. Wanting to fuck someone who’s unconscious.”

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t know there was a real term, for it. But there’s more. I—I also want you to ‘wake up’ partway through, while I’m already inside you, and, uh…”

“You want me to struggle? Beg you to stop? I can cry, if you want.”

Reeve squinted an eye at him. “You’re not nearly as weirded out by this as I expected.”

“Reeve, my sweet, summer wolfman,” Cloud sighed, patting his shoulder. “This is one of the least weird things I’ve been asked to do.”

“Really? Wait, wolfman?”

“Yeah, really. I had a client once who wanted me to soak in a cold bath, first, and play dead while he fucked me. I got a married couple who wanted me to pretend to be their kid, and walk in on them fucking. One wanted to be a new stepmother, and I was the horny stepson who took advantage of her, while dad was out of town. I have multiple current clients who like to be put on leashes and treated like dogs. I even have these four brothers who make me cook food for the three younger ones, then the older one fucks me in another room, while they eat.”

Reeve looked appropriately astonished. “My thing probably sounds pretty tame, then.”

“Non-con fantasies like that are the most common ones, believe it or not. But I’ve done pretty much everything. Power exchange, age play, pet play, teacher-student, coach-athlete, voyeurism, incest…”

“Incest?”

“Yeah, mostly daddy and big brother stuff.”

Reeve swallowed hard. “Would you…would you call me daddy?”

“Try and stop me.”

A little while later, Cloud was ‘asleep’ in Reeve’s huge, ridiculously comfortable bed, with the lights out, and the only illumination coming from the windows. The door opened softly, letting a beam of warm light from the hallway fall across the bed.

He heard Reeve call out, “Sweetheart? You awake?”

Cloud didn’t reply, obviously.

Cautious footsteps padded across the carpet, to the bed. He was lying on his stomach, hugging a pillow, with his legs splayed out and one knee bent, so when the covers were drawn back, the first thing Reeve saw was the pink lace of the tiny shorts, barely concealing the bulge of his sack, between his thighs.

A knee pressed down on the bed, then big, warm hands slid up under the shorts, to gently cup his ass. Reeve’s thumb hooked the crotch and pulled them to the side, and the other thumb and forefinger spread him apart.

Cloud heard him curse under his breath and grinned inwardly. Covering his asshole, was a sparkling, pink, heart-shaped gem, which was the base of the plug he was wearing, and hadn’t told Reeve about.

There was a short pause, then Reeve’s warm weight pressed down on him, as he leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Playing with yourself in daddy’s bed. I’ll have to teach you a lesson.”

The scent of wine on his breath, mingled with Reeve’s aftershave, really did lend to the atmosphere of a slightly drunk parental figure, about to do unspeakable things to a sleeping teenager. Cloud’s dick began to swell and thicken, with excitement.

Reeve slipped his pink shorts down, leaving them hanging around his ankle, and slid a palm under his abdomen, to pull his half-hard dick down between his thighs. There was another pause, in which Cloud could hear Reeve’s uneven breathing. Then the hands took hold of his ass again.

It was only because of his extreme professionalism, at that point, that Cloud was able to remain still and unresponsive, breathing relatively evenly. Reeve’s beard tickled his inner thighs as he bent down and put his hot mouth on Cloud’s sack, sucking and licking, while his thumb rhythmically prodded the plug. Pretty soon, Cloud’s dick was rock-hard, despite being forced to point downward between his thighs.

Reeve drew away, then took hold of the jeweled base of the plug and began to pull. Cloud stirred slightly and made a drowsy murmur of protest, as it popped out, with an obscene squelch. A thin stream of clear lube trickled down over his balls.

“Got yourself all ready for daddy, didn’t you,” Reeve said hoarsely.

Cloud heard a belt and zipper, and the rustle of fabric. Reeve guided the head of his cock to Cloud’s taut, lube-slick entrance.

“Fuck, baby. Your pussy’s so tight,” he breathed, as he pushed in. “Daddy can barely fit inside you.”

Cloud was about ready to explode. His dick was throbbing and drooling, and it took all his self control not to moan from sheer relief, when Reeve finally bottomed out, filling him to the brim. Cloud waited for him to set a good rhythm, then he began to stir, and groggily lifted his head.

“What…what’s happening,” he mumbled. Then he froze and pretended to panic. “What are you doing! Stop! Help!”

Reeve grabbed his wrists and pinned them, as he began to sob and thrash. “Sh, sh, sh. It’s just me, sweetheart.”

“D—daddy?” Cloud sniffled. “Why are you…why are you doing this to me?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted? You were playing with yourself, in my bed, weren’t you?”

“I didn’t! I wasn’t—!”

“Don’t lie to me,” Reeve cut him off sternly, punctuating the sentence with a savage thrust. The uncustomary aggressiveness in his voice amplified his sexiness by about ten-thousand, and sent chills up cloud’s spine. “Daddy came home and found you asleep in my bed, with a toy stuck up your slutty little hole. Weren’t you playing with yourself and thinking about daddy fucking you?”

“Hngh—ah! I was! I was!” Cloud ‘confessed.’ “I’m sorry, daddy! I won’t do it again!”

Reeve slid almost all the way out. “It’s too late for that. You wanted daddy’s dick, so now you have to take it.” He slammed it back in, all the way to the base.

“Noooo! Daddy, it’s too big!” Cloud whined, pretending to struggle under Reeve’s solid weight.

“Don’t fight, baby. Be good and take it,” Reeve panted, thrusting even harder, as Cloud bucked against him. His cock was getting hotter and harder. He was close. “You’re gonna make daddy come, if you keep tightening up like that.”

“Daddy, s—stop! It feels weird!” Cloud wailed (while gleefully tilting his ass up to take Reeve’s dick as deep as he could).

“Hngh…baby! Daddy’s coming! Fuck!”

Reeve pulled out abruptly, and Cloud felt warm fluid spattering across his ass and thighs. As soon as he’d finished, he pushed back inside, to ride out the spasms, while Cloud wrung himself hard and fast, till he came in the tight space, between his stomach and the mattress.

“Oh, fuck,” Reeve said breathlessly, falling onto the bed next to him. “That was—that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Not so bad yourself, daddy,” Cloud said, with a wink. Then he pretended to pout. “You’re not tired already, are you?”

“Not yet. Thank the goddess for all that boxing. Just, uh…just give your old man a couple minutes.”

They rolled around for a while, flirting and laughing, and wound up fucking again, with Cloud on top, riding Reeve cowgirl style. After that, they took a long shower together, in Reeve’s enormous spa-style Swiss shower. Reeve wanted to walk him out, but Cloud waved him off, saying he was a big boy and could take care of himself. And so the two cheerfully said goodnight at Reeve’s door, promising to see each other again, soon.

When the elevator reached the lobby, Cloud peered around, half expecting to see Zack, or Reno and Rude, but no one was around except for a few security guards and holographic receptionists. The scene was less desolate, outside, since this part of Shinra Tower was a block from Loveless Avenue, and the nightlife was always lively.

Cloud was crossing the bustling fountain square, bound for the train station, when a hand fell heavily on his shoulder, giving him a jolt. “I see you’ve been making friends in…high places.”

Cloud attempted to swallow in a suddenly dry throat. “Sephi? W—what are you doing here?”

“I might ask the same of you, if I didn’t know perfectly well, already.” Sephiroth leaned close, so Cloud could feel his breath on his ear. “There’s a man’s scent, all over you.”

His voice was hard and cold and crystal clear. Like knives made of ice. Which meant he was sober, and thus at his most dangerous. Cloud suppressed a shudder.

A gloved hand took hold of his arm, and Sephiroth deftly steered him around the corner, onto the intersecting street. He glanced anxiously about, but he wasn’t thinking of calling for help. His fear was less that Sephiroth would hurt him, and more that he’d hurt other people. He didn’t want anyone to get killed, so the only choice he had was to go along with the man, and hope he’d stay calm.

They walked for about half a block, before Sephiroth pushed him into a dark, narrow space between buildings and shoved him up against the brick wall, pinning him with a hand on the back of his neck and a knee between his legs.

“I don’t think you quite understand your situation, little puppet, so I will explain it.” Sephiroth lowered his voice to a menacing murmur. “You belong to me. The fact that you are able to run about and do as you please, is because I allow it.”

“It’s my job, Sephi. It’s not like I can just—”

“Hush. If I objected to your waywardness, I would put a stop to it, but I do not. It amuses me, the way you play these fools like perfectly tuned instruments. The way you make them line up to lay riches at your feet, in exchange for a taste of your body. You have given yourself to so many men, and yet none of them can truly possess you. They are your servants and playthings. You are free.”

“B—but you just said I belong to you,” Cloud faltered.

“That does not mean I intend to cage you. You would wither in captivity, and you would hate me. I would rather…but that is not what I’ve come to talk about. I sought you out because you are in a position to be useful to me. You are going to be my eyes inside Shinra.”

Shit. Cloud’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean? Why me?”

“There is no chance you would travel regularly to Shinra Tower for an ordinary client, and even less chance an ordinary client could dispatch the Turks, to transport you, to and fro. That means your clearance must grant you upper-level access.”

Cloud was stunned that Sephiroth knew all of that, but he didn’t dare ask how. He also didn’t think his usual tactic of playing dumb was going to do much good, so he just kept his mouth shut.

Sephiroth slapped something onto the wall, in front of his face. It was a creased and faded photo, of a pretty young woman, with brown eyes and light-brown hair.

“Who’s she?” Cloud asked, confused.

“Irrelevant. All you need to know is that she is somewhere in Shinra Tower. Memorize her face. You will look for her, for me. Tell me, immediately, the moment you see her. That’s all. Simple enough, yes?”

“Seph, this…I can’t just go snooping around in there. What if I get caught?”

“I trust you can use your talents to talk your way out of any minor trouble you encounter. But if it truly came to life or death, you’ve no need to fear. I will come to your rescue.”

“Oh, you will? And how the hell are you gonna rescue me, inside Shinra Tower?” Cloud demanded, his blue eyes sparking defiantly.

Sephiroth answered with a cold chuckle. “There are few places in this world that can keep me out.”

“If it’s so easy for you to get in, then why don’t you look for this woman, yourself? What do you need me for?”

“The time has not yet come, to move openly, against Shinra. For now, I must stay in the shadows.” His grip tightened on the back of Cloud’s neck. “I trust my little puppet will do his very best, for me.”

“I—I will,” Cloud gasped, as Sephiroth pressed him into the wall with his body, and his hard dick dug into his ass. “You know I’ll—ngh! You know I’ll do whatever you say.”

Sephiroth gave a pleased hum, then grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. Cloud’s mouth opened readily, to submit to the invasion, as the man’s tongue rolled forcefully over his.

He didn’t like being suddenly grabbed on the street and ordered around, but being near Sephiroth for any length of time had an intoxicating effect on him. No matter how insane and dangerous his rational mind knew Sephiroth was, Cloud’s body always wanted him so badly he could taste it.

That raw, animal desire was even more intense now, away from his workplace, and without the context of a professional transaction. He was already fumbling to undo his own trousers and yank them down around his thighs, as they kissed feverishly. He heard steel buttons jingle faintly behind him, then that huge, heavy dick slotted into the cleft of his ass.

“My bag,” he panted, licking his kiss-bruised lips. “There’s lube.”

Keeping a hand on his hip, Sephiroth reached down and picked up the bag. Cloud dug out the bottle of lubricant, which he squeezed all over his hand, then reached back to slick the thick, hard, veiny shaft. That was all the preparation Sephiroth had the patience for. He pushed the big, blunt head against his hole, still pink and swollen from Reeve, and impaled him, in one long slide, clamping a gloved hand over Cloud’s mouth, to muffle his moans.

Once he was all the way in, he set a ruthless pace, showing no tenderness, whatsoever; thrusting hard and deep, pounding Cloud into the cold bricks. The way Sephiroth fucked was always pretty rough, but this felt different. Possessive and domineering, with a hostile edge. Like he was trying to fuck Reeve out of him (despite the fact that Reeve was a gentleman and hadn’t come inside, and Cloud had already showered, anyway).

Just then, a wave of Sephiroth’s aromatic, masculine scent, like leather and cedar smoke, washed over him, and made Cloud’s head spin like he was drunk. He let go and lost himself in the unhinged lust and brutal intensity, radiating like heat from this monstrously strong and preternaturally gorgeous man.

That massive shaft was drilling into him, thrumming over his prostate, making his dick so hard it ached, and was leaking like a faucet. He wanted to come so badly, he didn’t care about anything else, let alone the fact that they were outdoors, in a public alleyway, only a few meters from a busy street.

Biting his bottom lip, he looked over his shoulder at Sephiroth, and grabbed hold of his leather coat, tugging him closer, urging him to fuck him harder.

Sephiroth’s slit pupils dilated visibly in his pale, blue-green irises. He clamped his hand over Cloud’s mouth again, and with a low snarl, he bared his sharp teeth and bit into his neck, so deep it broke the skin.

Cloud went rigid, screaming hoarsely into Sephiroth’s muffling glove, while he came hard, spurting against the wall, in hot, rapid pulses. Sephiroth came at the same time, with a strangled groan, hips stuttering, as his big, thick shaft pulsed, pumping a molten hot flood into Cloud’s convulsing hole.

The gloved hand released his mouth. Cloud’s head lolled forward and he let his sweat-damp forehead rest on the cold brick, enjoying the soothing coolness, while he caught his breath. Sephiroth was breathing hard too, still holding him pinned, but more gently, now, pressing what felt like apologetic kisses to the badly bruised spot on his neck.

When he pulled out, he held Cloud open with his thumbs, to watch the semen trickle down his thighs, which seemed to please him immensely. Cloud wrinkled his nose in annoyance, but he was facing the wall still, so Sephiroth didn’t see.

It really was incredibly rude of him to come inside, considering Cloud still had to ride the train for an hour to get home. He was thinking irritably about that and zipping up his pants, when the roar of a motorcycle engine filled the air, amplified by echoing off all the walls in the small alleyway.

“Come,” a much subdued and unusually lucid-looking Sephiroth said, holding out his gloved hand. “I’ll take you home.”

Kadaj was waiting on the street, astride one of the gang’s huge, black motorcycles. When he saw them step out of the alleyway together, he dismounted and stood there sullenly, looking at the ground. Sephiroth threw his long leg over the saddle and Cloud climbed on, behind him. Without so much as a glance at his younger brother, Sephiroth instructed Cloud to hang on tight, then gunned the engine and sped away, down the street.

Kadaj lifted his pale-blue eyes and glared venomously after them, his fists clenching and unclenching, at his sides, till they faded from sight. Then he turned and walked away, in the opposite direction.

Atop the roof of one of the many brownstone residential buildings, that filled this area, another figure leaned out and peered down the street, in the direction Sephiroth and Cloud rode off, then the direction Kadaj went. Then it also vanished into the night.

When they pulled up in front of the Honeybee, Cloud clambered off the bike, and hung his arms around Sephiroth’s neck, while they shared a slow, lingering kiss. Even after they drew apart, Sephiroth gazed at him for a long time, tucking his hair behind his ear and stroking his face, like he was reluctant to let him go.

Cloud’s cheeks got hot and his stomach fluttered. He’d never felt so much like Sephiroth was actually looking at him and seeing him, before. There was something lonely and longing in the man’s eerily beautiful eyes, that made made Cloud’s chest ache.

His own eyes began to sting with impending tears. Then all at once, it was as if a wall of ice snapped up between them. The catlike eyes glittered and the line of that perfect mouth hardened.

“Go,” Sephiroth said, turning away. “Don’t forget to do what I told you.”

Cloud stood there looking dazed, as the motorcycle roared away, down the narrow street. Then he shook himself and hurried inside. He almost ran face-first into Nero, who was standing directly in the doorway, for some reason.

“What the hell!” Cloud said crossly. “Why are you always blocking every door I go through!”

“Who was that man, on the chopper?” Nero asked. “It can’t be…does our little bimbo have a boyfriend?”

Cloud wanted to tell him to fuck off, but asshole or no, Nero worked here, now. He should know about the hazards he might encounter. “That was Sephiroth, the leader of the Remnants biker gang. He’s psychotic and dangerous as fuck and I don’t want to die, so I do whatever he says. If he comes here, we all do whatever he says, and don’t give him an excuse to kill anyone. You can ask Andrea, if you don’t believe me.”

“It didn’t look like you were scared for your life, just now. It looked like you were kissing your boyfriend goodbye.” Nero sniffed the air and smirked. “And you smell like you just fucked in an alley.”

“How could you possibly smell an alley?” Cloud retorted. “You’re just saying any shit you can think of, to be insulting.”

Nero arched a black brow. “Am I wrong?”

Cloud blushed guiltily and scowled to cover it up. “It’s none of your business! Why are you even talking to me?”

“Andrea wants you. He said to bring you to his office, when you got back.”

Cloud slumped. He was sticky and grouchy and exhausted, having spent the past several hours having sex with two men in a row, and then riding on a motorcycle all the way from the upper city, clinging to a madman for dear life, the entire time (which was still more than half an hour, despite Sephiroth’s kamikaze style of navigating traffic). But Andrea was the boss, so he dragged himself to the elevator, pointedly ignoring Nero, who followed him in, looking infuriatingly smug.

“Cloud, you’re here,” Andrea said, beckoning them into his office. “Your client has confirmed that trip, he mentioned. You’ll be leaving Friday afternoon, and returning the following Friday.”

Cloud nodded, unable to suppress his smile, upon hearing that he really was going to Wutai with Vincent. And for a whole week!

“That’s why I called you both in,” Andrea went on. “Nero, this means you’ll be filling in for Cloud, for the first time, Saturday night. It’s a big responsibility. The Honeybees will be counting on you to carry the show.”

Nero’s crimson eyes flashed eagerly. “I won’t disappoint you, boss.”

“Good! That’s what I like to hear,” Andrea said, looking pleased. “Cloud, you have a few days before your trip, so I want you to spend them helping Nero prepare for the headlining spot. That’s your top priority. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Cloud said glumly, his Wutai excitement severely dampened by the prospect of having Nero stuck to his side for three days.

When the two left the office, Nero’s hands were shaking with adrenaline. This was the moment he’d been waiting and preparing for. He was going to see Vincent Valentine, face to face. Finally, everything would be set in motion. Cloud noticed his agitated fidgeting, while they were riding the elevator, and misunderstood.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said. “It’s not much different from the Friday night shows.”

Nero didn’t correct his error. “I heard all the VIPs come to your Saturday shows, though. That’s a lot of pressure.”

“They’re just bored, old, rich guys. They’re not scary,” Cloud assured him, as the two disembarked, on their floor. “The only one we absolutely must keep happy is Vincent Valentine, and he won’t be there, so there’s nothing to stress about.”

Nero’s heart stopped. “What…he won’t?”

“Of course not,” Cloud said, as if he should have known. “I’m going to Wutai with him. That’s why you’re covering for me, in the first place. See you tomorrow.”

Nero was still reeling from the emotional whiplash, as Cloud walked away, and their rooms were on opposite ends of the hall, so he had no excuse to follow and probe for more information. His initial disappointment quickly gave way anger, at the little blonde who was blithely ruining all his plans. Under a black cloud, he stalked to his room, slammed the door, and threw himself on the bed. Weiss flipped down from the headstand push-ups he’d been doing, and came to sit beside him.

“I’m covering the bimbo’s show Saturday,” Nero said, before he had a chance to ask.

“That’s exactly what we wanted,” Weiss pointed out. “What’s wrong?”

“Vincent Valentine won’t be there! He’s taking the bimbo out of town, and that’s why I’m covering for him! It’s like that little rat-faced eyesore exists just to get in my way!”

“There will be other opportunities. Don’t get upset, you’ll make yourself sick,” Weiss said, spreading his arms. “Come here. Let me hold you.”

Nero turned his back and curled into a sullen ball. Undeterred, Weiss dragged his stubborn little brother into his lap, to wrap him up in a tight embrace. Nero wriggled and kicked petulantly, but only for a moment. Then he surrendered and burrowed into his brother’s bare chest, taking deep breaths of his scent, to soothe himself.

“I hate him, brother,” he pouted, peering up at Weiss from beneath his long, sooty eyelashes. “Kill him, for me.”

Weiss smiled adoringly, smoothing the silky, black hair back from his pallid face. “Soon, my love. We must first fulfill our purpose. Then we will have leisure, to bathe in the blood of our enemies.”

“But who knows how long that’s going to take,” Nero huffed. “I want to kill him, now.”

Weiss chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in his broad ribcage. “Have patience, little one. When all is done, I will bring him to you, and we will take our time with him. I wonder how long we can keep him alive.”

Nero pushed him onto his back and straddled him, sliding his hands up and down his ridiculously muscular torso, his crimson eyes kindled with a deranged light. “Tell me, brother. Tell me what you’ll do to him. I want to hear it, so I can imagine every single detail.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

MY SAD MURDER-BABY SEPHIROTH SOMEONE BE NICE TO HIM

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oldguy56-world · 7 months ago

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Jury Duty

This is not deja vu. Yes I did produce two other blogs with Jury in the titles. First was Juror in March 2022 followed by We the Jury in April 2023. It is because of those, and my time serving on a jury, that I am now considered somewhat of an expert Moreso, as I was selected as Foreman it makes me one of the foremost experts in the city. (see what I did there?)

Today is one of the most important days in U.S. history, or at least that is the claim for this week. Every week is historical because they are the most important country in the world. For this particular historical instance it is the onset of the Donald Trump 'I never had sex with that porn star' case. Jury selection has begun and apparently it is so important they speculate this part of the trial might take 4-6 weeks all by itself.

Both sides want to get the 'right' people on the jury (especially Trump's team who can't stand the left') so they have to be extremely vigilant to make sure no one will slip through that is biased or already has an opinion on the Donald himself. I can't imagine this will be a problem as I have found the average American to be very fair and level headed.

I am willing to offer my expertise on what type of juror each side should be seeking. To that end I am giving FREE OF CHARGE things to look for each side should consider. You are welcome.

Prosecution:

Anyone that has done a job for Trump and been stiffed on the bill.

People with all of their teeth.

People with mob ties just in case they get threatened.

Anyone named Melania.

People who fill out the questionnaire without any help.

People who do not get Fox News in their cable package

Mary Trump

Defense:

People that have Velcro, not laces on their shoes.

People that own a bible but have never read it.

Anyone that filled out their questionnaire in crayon.

Men who's wife and sister are listed as same.

People wearing his new line of sneakers.

Any person who, under education, produces a Trump U diploma.

People when, if asked about their constitutional beliefs, state they believe people should try to go at the same time every day.

This should help narrow down the field for both sides. If in a couple of weeks they still need some I am available, and I am a professional.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: i don't understand how in a democracy the majority rules except at a trial when the vote must be unanimous. They will see the problem this creates in today's world as these trials proceed.

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thatfanficgurl · 2 years ago

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Chapter 3: Don't Get in My Way

Barely able to stomach the rage that pumped through her veins, Lyric put V's car in park just outside of the Escoterica. Her eyes flashed orange for a moment as she scanned through her contacts until she found T-Bug. She would have to keep this on the downlow. "Ah, this is it." Jackie chimed up, opening his door. V rounded the front of the car, awaiting for Lyric to get out. She looked at V, shutting the drivers door. "Go on, ladies. V, find me once Vik's done dusting your circuits. We'll hash out what Dex's cooked up for us."

V laced her fingers with Lyric's and pulled her inside. Pausing by the desk, Lyric dropped a credit chip. "This is will have the order code on it. Just scan it into the site and you'll have the crystals by monday." Lyric stood leaning up against the desk, hesitating to go any farther with V. "I'm going to run over to Tom's Diner while you're in there." V stared at Lyric, bewildered.

"You're not coming with?" Disappointment swept across her hazel gaze.

"I have a few things to get done, starting with getting a bite to eat over at Tom's. Call me on the holo when you're done with Dex." V nodded, her hand reluctantly letting go of her love's hand. Lyric turned on her heels once V went down to Vik's clinic and headed to the diner.

______________________

Tom's Diner changed very little from the retro years of Night City. Tom glanced towards the doorway at the sound of her heels against the tile floor. "Hey, kid! The usual?" Lyric nodded as she walked to the back corner booth. Reaching behind her head, she pulled a cable at the back of her neck and plugged it into the outlet on the wall beside the booth. Static filled her senses. Her eyes glowed orange while she smiled at Tom, setting down the strawberry milkshake. Before her eyes manifested a computerized cube made of 01101 data encryption. Lyric held out her hands, typing on an invisible keyboard. First, she needed to change her IP, make T-Bug believe she was in the apartment. That was easy. A quick insert of data hacking. Second, she began furiously air typing. Cracking through lines of data code to create a hologram that would appear before T-Bug in her cyberspace. It didn't take long for Lyric to find her. She was synced up in her chair. Without her knowledge, Lyric was able to blindside T-Bug, calling her on the holo while she set up an impenetrable firewall on T-Bug's subnet. The netrunner would never see her coming. Her face flashed on the screen of Lyric's holo as she answered the call. "Hey, Lyrica. Long time no talk. What can I do for you?"

"So what's up with this job that Jackie brought V this morning?" She masked her emotions with that of blatant obliviousness. T-Bug was a netrunner, her job was to crack codes, break through firewalls and hack into system mainframes. Which was all something Lyric could do in the flash of an eye. She knew that T-Bug would be blind to a mask of emotion. She knew it would keep her in the light while Lyric worked her magic in the dark.

"That? You got nothing to worry about. It's a totally secure job with a legit fixer." She answered while Lyric chuckled. Without warning, within her cybernetic coding box, to which no one else could see, T-Bug appeared in the cybernet. Her hologram appeared beside T-Bug, which not only caused the netrunner to jump, but end the call. "How the hell-"

"You're going to lie to me and tell me that Dexter DeShawn is a real legit fixer?" Lyric was directly connected to the electrical wires that led to the entire internet. She used her intelligence and natural techincal ingenious to bring herself to T-Bug's net location. There, even in her mind, she could type out lines of code at lightning speed. Speak her mind without even saying a word. "You set this up. And I'm just here to give you a warning. If anything, and I mean anything happens that puts V in danger, I will fry your circuits from the inside out. And much like this little trick of mine, you'll never see me coming." Without giving her a chance to answer, Lyric reached behind her head, and disconnected the link. She sipped her milkshake until it was done.

She was exhausted now. Her vision hazed, she shook her head in an ill attempt to force the pain away. Standing, her vision shifted. Quickly, she hacked into the minds of the people around her, making it so they wouldn't notice as she walked out wincing in pain. Simple excerises such as that cost her so much. Her strength was deteriorating rapidly as of late. She didn't want V to see her that weak. She didn't want anyone to see her that way. Carefully and calmly, she made her way back to Vik's. She knew he'd have an immunity injection for her waiting.

___________________

"Hey, V, Doctor Vektor will see you now." Misty said but V was still staring out the doorway. This was unlike Lryic and it made her worry. Normally, they went to Vik's together. Vik would give Lyric an autoimmunity injection to keep her from being in pain and to stop her illness from progressing. It was completely unlike Lyric to just walk off like that.

"I'll sit tight over here. Me 'n' Misty got a little catching up to do." Jackie's words passed over V's mind, bringing her back from her inner thoughts. The backdoor of the esoterica opened as V approached it. The back alley to Vik's clinic was littered with all kinds of people. Some chrome junkies looking for a discounted deal, some homeless looking for their next meal. A hairless sphinx cat sat perched on the top stair down to the clinic. V bent down, petting the cat. Lyric always wanted a pet, maybe after this gig V would be able to get her one.

The doors to Vik's clinic opened; Vik Vektor sat on his surgical stool watching a match on his screen. His wife, Miyoko, stood behind him, her thumbs rotating in counter clockwise circles on his trapeze muscles. Miyoko Vektor was a friend of Lyric's long before V had met her six months ago. Miyoko, looked up at the sound of the doors opening and smiled at V. "Viky, spry as ever, you old ripper. Mimi, it's good to see you." Mimi was Lyric's nickname for her friend. Only close friends were allowed to call Miyoko that. That included V.

"Hey, V. No Lyric today?" Mimi asked, noticing that they weren't tied at the hip as they usually were.

"No, she had some errands to run." V said, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Vik and Miyoko shared a glance before Vik turned to V.

"Well, it's good to see you too, V. It's been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure today?"

"Last gig - had to jack into a client's neurosocket. I think I mighta gotten spiked. Lyric's scan showed a mild virus." V walked across the room, standing by Vik's ripper chair. He glanced once more at his wife, who kissed his cheek before stepping out of the clinic.

"Experiencing migraines, nausea, hypersensitivity to bright lights?" He asks, following V over the to ripper chair. Quickly, he injects his cramped forearm with a localized muscle relaxer. He gives his hand a once over before turning to V who shrugs her shoulders.

"Whole kit and kaboodle."

"All right, kid. We'll sort you out in a flash. Chair please? A little bit of anesthesia and you won't feel a thing." Vik promised, V crawled up into the seat. Glancing down at the mechanics, a four prong injector pressed into the soft flesh of her inner forearm. The room spun and V pressed her head back into the chair, "Lights out for a moment, kay?" Vik asked. All the while, V thought of Lyric. Was she all right while running her errands? Hopefully, she wasn't dealing with a blackout episode alone. She thought of her girlfriend's perfect brown eyes, taking a deep breath before everything went black.

#fanfiction #adecentread #cyberpunk fanfic #cyberpunk 2077 #female v x self ship #miyokovektor

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rnedicalimaging · 6 months ago

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16th May 2024

Crash Course: Anatomy & Physiology - Tissues

youtube

Summary:

Nervous, Muscle, Epithelial & Connective Tissues

History of Histology

Nervous Tissues Forms The Nervous System

Muscle Tissue Facilitates All Your Movements

Identifying Samples

Cell Specialisation

Every cell in your body has its own specific job description related to maintaining your homeostasis - the balance of materials and energy that keeps you alive.

Groups of similar cells come together together to perform a common fuction, in our tissues.

Tissues

Tissues are like the fabric of your body. The term literally means "woven".

When 2 or more tissues combine, they form organs.

Organs

Kidneys, lungs, liver and other organs are all made of different types of tissues.

The function a certain part of your organ performs depends on what kind of tissue it's made of.

The type of tissue defines its function.

The Type Of Tissue Defines Its Function

Four Primary Tissue Types

Nervous Tissue

control and communication

Muscle Tissues

movement

Epithelial Tissues

cover and protect the body

Connective Tissues

provide support

If cells are like words, then tissues, or groups of cells, are like sentences.

Histology

The study of our tissues.

Specimen Under Microscope

Preserve or Fix

Slice or Section

Stain

Since different stains latch on to different cellular structures, this process lets us see what's going on in any given tissue sample, down to the specific parts of each individual cell.

Some stains let us clearly see cells' nuclei, and as you learn to identify different tissues, the location, shape, size or even absence of nuclei will be very important.

The combination of the right microscope and the right strain opens up our understanding of all of our body's tissues and how they make life possible.

Nervous Tissue Forms The Nervous System

Nervous tissue forms the nervous system, the brain and spinal cord of the central nervous system and the network of nerves in your peripheral nervous system.

Central Nervous System

Peripheral Nervous System

The nervous system regulate and combine all of your body's functions.

Basic Nervous Tissue

sensing stimuli

sending electrical impulses throughout the body, often in response to sensed stimuli

Basic nervous tissues is made up of 2 different cell types - neurons and glial cells.

Neurons

Neurons are the specialised building blocks of the nervous system.

Your brain alone contains billions of neurons - which are what generate and conduct the electrochemical nerve impulses that let you think, dream, eat nachos etc.

Neurons are also all over your body.

If you're petting an animal, it's the neurons in your skin's nervous tissue that sense that stimuli, and send a message to the brain like "cute!"

Each neuron has the same anatomy, consisting of the cell body, the dendrites and the axon.

Cell Body (Soma)

The cell body, or soma, is the neuron's life support. It's got all the necesssary goods like a nucleus, mitochondria and DNA.

Dendrites

The bushy denrities, looking like the tree they're named after, collection signals from other cells to send back to the soma. They're the listening end.

Axon

The long, rope-like aon is the transmission cable. It carries messages to other neurons, muscles and glads.

All these things, cell body, dendrites and axon, combine to form nerves of all different sizes laced throughout the body.

Glial Cells

Glial cells are like the neuron's pit crew, providing support, insulation and protection, and tethering them to blood vessels.

Muscle Tissues Facilitates All Your Movements

Muscle Tissues

Unlike nervous tissues, muscle tissues can contract and move - helpful for walking, chewing, breathing etc.

Muscle tissue is well-vascularised, meaning it's got a lot of blood coming and going.

Muscle Tissue - Types

Skeletal Muscle Tissue

long multinucleate parallel cells, striations (fine black lines running perpindicular to the fibers)

long straight cells

obvious striations

multiple nuclei

Skeletal muscle tissue is what attaches to all the bones in your skeleton, supporting you and keeping your posture in line.

Skeletal muscle tissues pull on bones or skin as they contract to make you move.

Skeletal muscle tissue has long, cylindrincal cells. It looks kind of clean and smooth, with obvious striations that resemble little pin stripes.

Many of the actions made possible, like facial expressions or dance moves, are voluntary.

Cardiac Muscle Tissue

cells divide and converge, one nucleus per cell, striated with intercalated disks

striated

one nucleus/uninucleate

brancing structure

intercalated disks

Cardiac muscle tissue work involuntarily.

It forms the walls of your heart, and it would be distracting to have to remind it to contract once every second.

Cardiac muscle tissue is only found in your heart, and its regular contractions are what propel blood through your circulatory system.

Cardiac muscle tissue is also striped, or striated, but unlike skeletal muscle tissue the cells are generally uninucleate - meaning that they have just one nucleus.

Cardiac muscle tissue is made of a series of sort of messy cell shapes that look like they divide and converge, rather than running parallel to each other.

Where the cells join end-to-end you can see darker striations, which are the glue that hold the muscle cells together when they contract, and they contain pores so that electrical and chemical signals can pass from one cell to the next.

Smooth Muscle Tissue

short tapered cells, but no striations

uninucleate

packed together

no striations

smooth

It lines the walls of most of your blood vessels and hollow organs, like those in the digestive tract, urinary tracts and uterus.

It's called smooth because, unlike the skeletal and cardiac muscle tissue, it lacks striation.

Its cells are sort of short, tapered at the ends, and are arranged to form tight-knit sheets.

The tissue is also involuntary, because like the heart, these organs squeeze substances through by alternately contracting and relaxing, without having to think about it.

#Youtube

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thezolblade · 2 years ago

Note

Jon asks to see certain outfits as a treat? I'm curious, what does he like to see?

Got a couple asks about outfits, so. Both their fashion styles contribute:

As a child of the 90's, Martin's vintage aesthetic leans towards the sort of things that have aged well from that decade, mixed with styles from the 60's - 80's, and newer stuff that goes well with it. Not that he wears anything so dated it looks weird, or so stereotypical that it could be straight from a catalogue. More of a vaguely retro and homey look, with lots of yellows, oranges, greens, blues and browns. Band t-shirts, TV show mascots and logos that look nerdy but not too childish, 'Keep Calm and Carry On' and other cheerful phrases, rainbow pride designs, scenic prints, and sometimes stripes and patterns, when he can layer them in a way that doesn't look too flashy. Cable knit jumpers, cardigans with wooden buttons, corduroy trousers, comfy jeans, and lace up ankle boots.

Since he tends to buy second hand clothes in plus sizes, everything he really likes was a lucky find, and he tries to look after it with a lot of hand washing, and occasional repairs if need be. For his first few years at the Institute, while he was quite desperately pretending to be older, he only wore the smartest clothes he owned to work. The button up shirts and jumpers that looked the most nondescript and professional. It took a few years for him to relax and start showing more personality, which Diana gently encouraged. So Martin understands Jon's insecurities about dressing for the job, he really does, especially knowing that he's been lying about his age too, but still...

Jon treats professional attire as a performance that he needs to participate in to gain access to opportunities and maintain his position, the same way he exaggerates his posh accent and his age. Working hard isn't always enough in other people's eyes, and he can't coast on being likeable or well connected, but he can make sure he looks and sounds like he belongs, to carve out a niche where he has some stability and respect. Once he's responsible for others, he's judged on their performance too, and in theory, smartening up ought to be the low hanging fruit; it's easier to remind someone to polish their shoes than to teach them Latin. (Of course, that goes out the window if they come to work in trainers, but... some people have other strengths to fall back on.)

In his time off, there's no pressure to live up to anyone else's standards, so when he's by himself, he draws the line at 'I won't leave the house in pajamas, even if I'm only nipping round the corner for milk', and some of his casual clothes get quite ratty with age before he gets rid of them. Still, he does like academic fashion for its own sake, and he's a history nerd, so he'll sometimes mix and match smart clothes with ones that are more quirky or relaxed, e.g. a maroon silk waistcoat, a white shirt with baggy sleeves, skinny black jeans, and a pair of combat boots that he's had since uni.

So when Jon has Martin all to himself, sometimes he wants to see him in the cute stuff that he doesn't get to see him in at work anymore; a particular top with a nostalgic design, which looks better with boxers than with trousers. Or a nice embroidered jacket, with nothing underneath.

Sometimes he wants to see him in his smartest clothes, to act out a fantasy about shaping him up into the perfect assistant, and stripping things off layer by layer.

Sometimes he wants to dress Martin in the same kinds of anachronistic and melodramatic fashion that Jon picks out for himself, purely for the aesthetics.

Sometimes he wants to see him in something new and exciting; lingerie, leather, 'club wear' that he wouldn't let him actually wear to a club. Clothes bought as souvenirs during weekend trips together.

Sometimes they take everything off as soon as they get home, and agree on a pajamas and takeout evening, and why would Martin put on trousers again at a time like that?

(With so many options, there aren't many days when Jon doesn't voice a preference one way or another.)

#heart of the disaster #tma thoughts #rozzlynn's fanfic

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theskeletoninthegarden · 2 years ago

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I had a dream this morning, it took place in "the future".

My mind insists that this time period be dubbed "the Future", with a capital "F", but I digress. I knew it was thus because although my personal quarters-- my mind corrects me, my bedroom was not to be called my "personal quarters", as if I lived on a ship, it was "the Future" but we were still very much on planet Earth.

My...bedroom (I guess, with sarcastic disappointment) was very much in the style of the 22nd century (it looks like my bedroom does now, why must I word it this was). But our living room was very much not. It was an open floor plan, with slick flooring (I hate having used the word "floor" twice there, but we all have our peeves), wide windows that looked out over the metropolis that we called home (has to be metropolis, no one in "the Future" lives in the goddamn country; my brain corrects me, some people do, but those are folk that spend a great deal of their days In Space (my brain says that the "I" and "S" are capitalized here merely for emphasis) but which live in lower income bracket, i.e. galactic miners (my brain falters at the word "galactic" but I'm tired, and fuck if that doesn't sound like a sick band name)).

Where was I?

Oh, my living conditions.

Our living room, so to speak, was Big, but at least one of my roommates had to pass through it to get to his quarters (fight me, brain, I've already used the word bedroom too many times in this context). The television that we used consisted of two main screens and two smaller ones, because, again, it was "the Future" and my brain wishes to stress how incredibly "sci-fi" this era was ("is"? No, not "is"). Anyways, a lot of natural lighting, but so bright the strings of my subconscious assumes that, to some extent, those bitches were fake (I'm more awake, now).

My roommate was a (my brain insists "is a", but, again, I'm still waking up)… mechanical being (a goddamn robot with a TV for a head). A salary man who, in a moment of "wild passion" declared previously that he knew of my affections for him and whom which I was "dating" (it's unclear, something about this man makes it seem calling it "dating" would come off, to him, as being "quaint"). He was one of several other, possibly three, roommates of mine (no, I'm not calling them flat mates. It's "the Future" not "Space Britain").

An aside, but when he confessed that he "knew of my affections" he said it was appropriate that I take the time to write a paper on it (he didn't use the words thesis or dissertation, but he sure as hell used a Word), and that he would take a week off from work, after myself, to do the same for me. This roommate of mine, although a...robot (wow, I can see the strain that put on my little fingers) used a holographic image (Image? That's not right. Skin? Well. Puns.) to present himself as a human being. This was (shut up) common practice among some (wow, grammar) of his folk (too awake, now) when presenting themselves. It was very "high-tech" (sarcasm, love it) in that it was entirely interactable. It seemed very much to be like real, "human" flesh, but with just enough intent could be temporarily interferred with enough to reveal the truth beneath it.

I recall one morning, when he had returned from his own vocation (nice word, I like that word) and I reached down, pulled his face to my own via hooking a finger through a a thick, metallic cable that connected a portion of his monitor to his neck, and kissed him. He could feel it, I could feel him, and, rather abruptly, he said he "was done" and I had to stop. He was distracted, declared that he didn't have time to be exploring one's bodily anatomy, and I wasn't bothered (I'm really going off on a tangent, here. Look, he was a straight laced fellow, with not so secret carnal inclinations that he hid under a thin veil of "respectability". Goddamn if I wouldn't marry him in an instant if I actually knew him IRL).

That day I received a "job offer" (as I called it) for training...somewhere. The email I was given popped up on one of the monitors, and, in regards to the wording, this is where things get truly odd.

The email requested that I "bring a tomato char" to ward off "rogue tomatoes" (a sort of creature? It was going into MMORPG territory, here). And...I truly forget the rest.

At the beginning of the dream, it introduced things by acquainting me with a "soldier model type" of one of these...robots (someone like my roommate, okay). This person was a high ranking officer, very efficient regards to stealth, and yada yada, and whom was fleeing his service. He was picked up by a service vessel (this is fine, as it was a ship capable of space flight), and stripped himself off his holographic skin for the sake of further anonymity (at least to anyone simply looking at him with their "human eyes" (future inquiry was possibly via sciency-science stuff, I don't want to go into it, I simply Cannot right now)).

Beneath the veil was a sort of robot with a very bulky main frame (hahahahahahahaha) that very much looked like a humidifier, but his head (it looked like a head, to be honest, sans the back of the skull) was on a sort of stalk (very much like my roommate-partner, actually, minus the low hanging cord (hahahahahaha)). His face plate very much looked like a porcelain mask. It was pretty cool (creepy to others, but evidentially a thing about "the Future" is presenting an aesthetic that is very "sci-fi" with the occasional dash of old-world whimsy (my room, this mask, the "galactic" miners and their strange love of folk rock).

Anyway, this robot was an escaped soldier model, there was some sort of war a-brewin' (or maybe this really was Space America in that...fuck, in my millennial brain when is it not war time?), and that is how the dream was introduced to me.

I don't know, it was neat, dreams are neat, and can someone go to work for me, please? I want to think about my not-roommate-partner-boyfriend-whatever. He was lovely.

#personal #writing #I suppose #dream #dreaming #dreams #all short of that Minecraft fellow

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springbandit · 1 month ago

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"Lock her up?" Billy scoffed, "That's your big plan? Put her away in some cell where she gets three meals a day and cable tv? Please." His tone was laced with condescension. He didn't trust cops in the first place, but, especially not those looking to use him for their own, stupid, agenda. "You think I'm gonna trust the same system that put me in here to do anything right? Nah. I'm not some idiot who's gonna sit around and wait for a miracle that some cop somewhere might actually do his job. I can handle her myself. My way, on my terms." He wasn't going to start singing to the police, not given his own track record. He wanted his name as far away from their system as possible. "If you really want her taken down? Then stay out of my way."

@fcrafcrtnight

"I DO. BUT THAT'S NOT WHY I'M HERE." glancing over at the other, because.. yes, wayne knew what he was doing. he knew that he had a reason to be here and even if the other didn't know that? he knew him and he knew what said reason was. right? sam. it all came down to making her pay and he would do it. sooner than later, she was going to pay for all that she had taken away from him and more. he was going to make sure of such a thing, wasn't he? yes. "she's always been like this. she attacked my daughter as well so good news is? it ain't just you." had she? back at home, but he had no doubt that weathers hadn't known who she was back then. quinn. "i want to look into locking her up for good. putting someone as deranged as that away can only be a good thing. with a statement from you? i bet that i could make that happen? wanna help?" @springbandit

#fcrafcrtnight #Billy:Wayne #Billy #death mention tw #prison mention tw #violence mention tw

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chvnnie · 2 years ago

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lol i am having some very feral thoughts about jeongin thnx to @woahfruity so uuuuuuhhhh hard thought coming through???

SMUT - MINORS DNI

yang jeongin x reader

genre: smut - MINORS DNI

wc: 1.4k

warnings: phone sex, mutual masturbation, mentions of oral, dom/sub elements, dirty talk. as always, not proofread. i'm a whore for this man i cannot-

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess, @hugs4chan, @stranger-thighs, @beautifulcolorgarden, @scottmcallisdaddy, @whatudowhennooneseesyou, @raspbinniecreme, @humayraaaaa

lying on his side, jeongin watches the city dance through his hotel windows. the blinking of a car's headlight, the dim streetlights, the sound of people outside chasing various highs. he looks into the windows of hotel rooms across from his own; some curtains drawn, the flashing lights of cable tv. what draws him in is the couple in the room directly across from his own.

one man sits with his back against the headboard, legs spread with his partner laying in between them. the other man has his arms wrapped around the other's waist, chin resting on their midsection as they stare up at their love. he says something, pulling a laugh from the other, who leans in a way that has to be uncomfortable to kiss the top of his head.

fuck. he misses you.

jeongin flips onto his back, reaching across the length of the bed to pick up his phone he ditched a while ago in favor of sleep that has yet to encapsulate him. no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get his brain to shut off. there's really no point in trying now; he might as well distract himself.

being away from you never gets any easier. he loves his job, loves getting travel and meeting new people, trying new things. it's like a beautiful dream he never has to wake up from, and there's nothing he would change about this life.

he just wishes you could experience all of these wonders with him.

there's a special folder in his phone, filled with photos and videos of you. he taps on the top of his phone screen, starting at the very beginning of it. it was the first picture he had ever taken of you; sat across from him at a wooden table, elbow on the table as you prop your cheek in your hand. your eyes are shut, a bright smile on your face. the next photo is similar to the first, taken on the same day, but instead of smiling, you're laughing, face scrunched in pure joy.

jeongin swears he can hear it, like you're right next to him.

closing out of photos, he opens his messages, typing before he can really think.

jeongin [01:46]: hey. awake?

you [01:46]: did you just "u up?" me?

jeongin [01:47]: ...it's endearing.

he watches as the text bubble disappears and reappears for the next few seconds until his phone starts to vibrate, your name flashing across the top of it. tapping accept, your face fills the small screen. similar to jeongin, you're also in bed, the warm light of the bedside lamp highlighting your face. he can see the exhaustion in your eyes, laced with a brightness when your eyes meet his through the screen.

"can't sleep?"

"not really." his voice is raspy and low from the overuse. "it's hard to sleep without you."

your soft laugh flows through the speaker, immediately filling the void that's been in his chest since he left for tour. "hotel bed feeling a little cold?"

"more than a little."

"yeah. mine, too."

it's a comfort to know that you long for him in the same way he does - he doesn't want to be around you all the time, he needs to. without you, he's like a fish out of water, flopping around and waiting for someone to return him to the place he feels the safest. instead of water, it's your arms. his breath, his heartbeat, the blood flowing through his body. you're his life source.

running a hand through his hair, he releases a deep sigh. "fuck, i can't wait to be home."

"me, too." you say, a hint of sadness in your voice. as happy as you are to support him and his career, the lack of time together does suck. "but you're having fun right?"

jeongin gives you a run down of his day, from the breakfast he ate that morning to detailed descriptions of the faces he saw in the crowd that night. you listen intently, asking questions with a smile on your face.

he watches as your blinks get slower, your yawns a little louder. "go to bed, baby. we can talk tomorrow."

groaning sleepily, you shake your head. "no, i can't."

"come on, you're yawning. it's time to sleep."

"yeah, but-never mind." you quickly shut your mouth, breaking his eye contact. he's confused for a beat; why did you stop yourself? but jeongin knows you. knows your tells. the way your breathing has deepened a bit, lips pressed together as you nervously play with your hair.

ah, that's why you can't sleep.

he huffs a deep laugh, wetting his lips as he narrows his eyes on you. "hey. look at me, baby." purposely drawing out his words, he watches you shudder, shyly looking back at him. "that's a good girl. why don't you tell me why you can't sleep?"

you tightly twirl your hair around your finger, struggling to maintain eye contact with him. "i just miss you, innie..."

"miss me how?"

the hand not holding his phone creeps under the cover, resting atop of his semi as he watches you stumble over your words. they're slightly whiny, causing a groan to build in his throat. when you get like this, it drives him insane. you're like clay, perfect to dig his fingers into and mold to his liking. using you the way he sees fit with little resistance.

"the-" you swallow, throat suddenly dry as you stumble for words. "the way you make me feel-innie, please don't make-"

"say it." he says firmly.

"i miss the way you make me feel good."

god. he's dizzy, head spinning and body aching. if he closes his eyes, he can feel your skin on his, body writhing beneath him as he whispers the dirtiest words in your ear. cock fully hard, he begins to palms him over his boxers. "aw, baby. you don't think i can make you feel good from here?"

"i-i didn't say that."

it's the way you get flustered, a small whimper following your words as you squirm a bit. "why don't you get one of your little toys and i'll show you how fucking good my words can make you feel?"

the way you quickly drop your phone, the sound of the bedside table opening in the background is like an ego boost, further proving his point. when you're back on the screen, he sees the little pink bullet he bought for you just for moments like this.

"take off your clothes. show me."

it's almost comical, the speed in which you strip out of your bed shirt and panties, holding your phone over your body and panning it across your exposed skin, showing off every inch of you. when you get to your center, he stops you.

somehow, you prop the phone up, the camera focusing in on your folds. they're glistening in the dim light, so damp jeongin is wondering how it didn't seep through your panties and wet the bed. he releases a deep, but quiet moan. "oh, my pretty baby. what a mess you've made."

it's cute, the way he can see your hole clench at his words. "h-help me-"

cooing, he slips his hand into his boxers and slowly begins to tug on his cock. "don't worry. i'll always take care of my baby. show me how you touch yourself when i'm not around."

jeongin feels like he's going to bust immediately when you start to tease yourself with one hand, holding the buzzing vibrator to the clit with the other. slowly you circle the tip around the sensitive nub, sweet moans of his name falling from your lips.

"does it feel good, baby?"

he takes your loud moan as a yes, watching as your legs start to tremble try to shut. it's a beautiful sight, something that makes him drool all over himself. he wishes he could reach through the screen, both hands on your hips as he holds your core flush to his face. he wants to drown in your cunt, pulling orgasm after orgasm from you as you ride his tongue.

fuck. fuck, the thought makes his balls tighten, breaths deepening as he tries to keep himself grounded. jeongin has to see your ruin the sheets before he can ruin the hotel's.

which, given the volume of your moans, won't be long.

jeongin hears you struggling for words, cries breaking up the pathetic excuse for sentences you keep trying to spill. his moans mix with yours, filling his empty hotel room with the beautiful melody.

"cum." he grunts out, trying not to roll his eyes back as the flick of his wrist increases. "show me how much you fucking miss me."

#skz smut #stray kids smut #straykidsland #yang jeongin smut #jeongin smut #i.n smut #chvnnie thots

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confusedartblog · 2 years ago

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“Okay its the moment we’ve all been waiting for (just kidding its just me)

High Guarda Uniform Visual Reference Sheet!

It says on there but I know my handwriting can be illegible at best, so it was based on a combination of Greek and Roman style linothorakes- Jess mentions several times that the armor is flexible, which led me to the conclusion of a linothorax. A linothorax is armor made of sheets of linen laminated together- its sturdy as all hell, but still light, flexible, and not as hot as metal armor. Also considerably cheaper. And who wants to fight in plate armor anyway?

I had thought that instead of the traditional laces up the side, it would have a tightening system to a BOA, any snowboarders out there will recognize this as the way most board boots lace up. If you don’t know what it is you can look it up, they’re super cool, but basically its a cable that goes into a device that twists and then snaps in place to tighten, and pulls out to release. I thought this would make kitting up easy and fast, same with getting injured soldiers out of armor. Also worth noting is that the shoulder flaps snap in place instead of tie, and a heavy cloak for cold weather can be fastened in the same place. A linothorax wouldn’t be bulletproof by a long shot, but as weapon technology improved so would armor, so I would imagine by now it has some sort of extra layer to make it more resistant to whatever ammunition is used against it.

I know this isn’t super in depth and I apologize to any fellow linothorax enjoyers who might stumble across this, I know it’s more complicated, but this gets the job done.

I also know it’s not “built into the uniform” as is implied several times, but I couldn’t quite get a hold on what that would look like, and figured if everything else has Greek and Roman influences, the armor should too. Also I’m currently reading Reconstructing Ancient Linen Body Armor: Unraveling the Linothorax Mystery and simply couldn’t help myself- great read if anyone is interested

#The Great Library #the great library fan art #armor #linothorax #idk what else to tag this uhhh #high guarda #high guarda armor #digital art

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

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life is not a shoujo manga

— Kaibara believes that his life with you could be a shoujo manga. Why? One, he’s in love with you and two, you work at a maid cafe he is prohibited from visiting. But nothing happens in life without doing what you’re told NEVER to do.

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pairing: kaibara sen x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, modern!au, reader is a sex worker, maid cafe but make it kinky, dubcon (spoiler: reader just services kaibara despite his embarrassment), semipublic sex, master and maid dynamic/kink, blow job, sex on a table, marking

word count: 4,570

a/n: this is for the bnharem collab for sex work lmaoooo, this was hella inspired by maid-sama,,, kinda sorta, not really, but hey!!!! check out the rest of the masterlist and I hope you enjoy this!!! happy birthday to me :D

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Kaibara Sen was pretty confident in the fact that he was not in a shoujo manga.

There are, however, some claims that he can unashamedly admit make him believe that he might be in one. Here is his gathered evidence:

1. He had a crush on a girl (you) that was practically written to be nothing more than a crazy, hopeful fantasy.

Explanation:

Kaibara has known you for his entire life, but you, the airheaded, mind focused on only those around you, had never noticed him. You were bright, intelligent, witty, with blazing eyes and a curling smile, you were an enigma in the world, and he was a bystander just waiting for a day when you would notice him. Popular as you were, Kaibara knew he stood no chance at ever playing a role in your life. There was no room for his initial stoic personality, the way that he walks away from you as you near because, god forbid, you see his ears tinge pink.

All in all, you never knew he existed, and his crush would have to remain one-sided and unknown. But you see, reason number two is yet a testament to his denied belief that he lives a shoujo manga.

2. He had gained your attention one day by catching you one day when you tripped off a brick wall.

Explanation:

Talk about falling into the arms of the one you’re destined for! Kaibara had been walking home from the end of his first year of high school, and as he turned a corner, there came a yell and he looked up to see a body plummeting towards him. With adrenaline coursing through his veins and superhuman strength supplying him the strength and ability to catch you, Kaibara caught you bridal style. He held you there for a few moments, the air suddenly blowing and the blossoming cherry blossoms swirling with the winds. He swore your eyes brightened at the moment you locked eyes.

3. He had a (former) love rival.

Explanation:

Pretty self-explanatory, Kaibara would admit. Before his introduction to you, another male student in your class had been essentially building up his intentions to ask you out. Kaibara wasn’t one to step on people’s toes; he respected people too much and often just didn’t want to spend energy where he thought was unnecessary. But you were never unnecessary. Kaibara wanted you and found himself clashing heads with this other love rival, but he seemed to have won the moment Kaibara was accepted into the same university as you.

4. You were working at a maid cafe.

Explanation:

Kaibara did not have an older sister for no reason. Maid-Sama and Ouran Highschool Host Club were constantly on repeat when he was growing up! Because of this selected memory and application, he believed that time and time again, whenever maids were involved — or any type of service job — it was shoujo material.

Four points and that was four more points than most romances, and Kaibara was convinced that he was in line to become the main star of a real-life adaption of some obscure shoujo manga. All he had to do now was seal the deal and get you, his now best friend of nearly four years, to fall in love with him.

“I have work tonight,” you sigh from your place on Kaibara’s bed, your face twisted in a dissatisfied pout, feet kicking a bit on the mattress.

“Call out,” Kaibara simply replied, his head resting upon yours as you both watched an old All Might film. “I don’t understand why the maid cafe is open so late anyways. Who’s even awake and wanting to go out?”

You chuckle at his words, fingers tapping on your thigh — as they do when you’re a bit nervous.

“It’s a cafe for foreigners and people who are up late,” you repeat the same line you always say when Kaibara asks why you would go in so late. “It works out, and it pays well.”

“How long is your shift tonight?”

“Ten until three.”

Kaibara groans, “that’s rough.”

You snicker a bit in unknown irony, “you have no idea.”

Time passes, and Kaibara realizes that it’s nearly nine-thirty by the time you pull away from the small mirror on Kaibara’s desk (he bought it so that you could do your makeup in his room), and he looks at you in your beautiful form. You looked ethereal in the makeup, big eyes, and painted pretty lips. You turned to look at him, a grand grin painting your lips, and for whatever reason, a spoof of unspoken for confidence, Kaibara feels himself speaking before he can stop himself.

“Go on a date with me? Next weekend?”

You froze, before chuckling, lips splayed in a lazy grin, “you’d want to date a maid?”

“Undoubtedly.”

Kaibara watched as you flustered a bit, teeth tugging and tearing into your lower lip as you shook your head. “You’re a dork, Sen,” you push back a strand of hair as you stand up, “but let me think about it? As much as I love the idea of potentially being your girlfriend, I need to think about how you would feel about my job.”

And Kaibara smiled despite himself, his mind thinking about how sometimes shoujo protagonists often deny their own feelings at first. Not that his life was a shoujo manga anyways.

“I can do that.”

You laugh, the sound pretty and light on his ears, and you shake your head. Kaibara warmed at the sound and stood up too, already knowing that it was time for you to leave.

“Alright, but I must leave you now, my eternal love,” you grin, speaking with a mock accent. Your arms open for your goodbye hug he has since been accustomed to giving you when you both went separate ways. “I bid thee well when I’m away for the week.”

Ah yes, you would be gone for an entire week on account of a school trip you were taking.

“I do not know how I may live without you at my side, but I will try,” Kaibara spoke back with a low accent, too, his smile hidden in your neck as he hugged you near. “Have a good shift, and be safe on your trip.”

“Obviously!”

Two things about your job besides the obvious (that it was a maid cafe) that Kaibara knew.

1. You made a lot of money there.

He wasn’t all too sure as to why. He’s been to a maid cafe before and has definitely been called Kaibara-sama by pretty-faced females in French maid costumes. He knew that it was a popular place for otaku men and foreigners, but he also knew that pay range-wise, it wasn’t that much better than a typical waitress job.

2. Under no circumstances should he, or anyone for that matter, follow you to work or try to see you while you worked.

This made sense to Kaibara even if he didn’t particularly agree. There was no denying that he wanted to see you in a maid costume, he’d be a liar if he said otherwise, but he realized how embarrassing it could be for you. The fact that he knew where you worked was good enough for him.

Kaibara sighed, his body collapsing onto his bed, and he pulled out his phone. He checked the time on his phone and smiled, seeing that at this point, you were already at work because you sent a text saying that you had arrived. A small notification warning him that his phone was about to die pinged on his screen, and he frowned, hand reaching for his charger.

But instead of the white cord, his hand grasped onto the rose gold charging cable he knew was yours. You needed the charging cable; you were leaving on a trip basically right after work! Kaibara’s mouth twisted, weighing his options in his head. He knew that you had no other charging cables; you had a knack for breaking them without meaning to.

Shaking his head, he stood up.

This was about your charger for your phone.

It would be okay! He would simply step foot into the maid cafe, hand your coworker (he was hopeful he would see you) your charger, and leave! He wouldn’t stay! Nope! Not at all.

Kaibara nodded at his resolution and pocketed your charger before turning on his heel and marching out of his room.

It took a bit to get to the cafe.

Fushi’s Maid Cafe is what it was called.

Its hours of operation were quite weird, at the very least in Kaibara’s opinion. On its website, it said that it was open between 11 am and 5 pm, a reasonable range for its demographic; however, there were many times in which you would go in much later in the night. You were in a 10 pm until 3 am shift after all.

It was currently midnight as the trains were down for the night, and Kaibara had resolved to walk a near hour to drop off your charger. He didn’t really mind, especially if he sees you in that costume.

‘No!’ Kaibara thought, ‘you’re in a shoujo manga, not a hentai!’

He frowned, remembering to continue to claim that he was not living in a shoujo manga, and strode to the door. Confidence in every step, his game plan being repeated time and time again.

Kaibara swung open the door, readying himself to hear the onslaught of a chorus of ‘Welcome home, Master!’ but instead… oh…

He froze.

“F-Fukuda-samaaaaa!”

He blinked.

And as the door closed behind him, the most fucked out, blissful voice that he had only heard in his wettest of dreams called out, “Welcome home, Kaibara-sama…”

Kaibara locked eyes with you sitting alone at a table, your eyes laced with blissful lust, lips pouty and wet. The maid costume you had on exposed your beautiful breasts, shoving the curves, the tender flesh, and your sweat shined softly off it. Kaibara felt his breathing become shallower yet deeper as the sounds of meeting wet sex, lewd cries, the maids begging for more, demanding more. The clients — the masters — speaking in tongues as they fucked the women against the chairs, tabletops, anything in which they could balance.

Oh.

It made sense why you never wanted anyone to follow you to work.

Kaibara had been so caught up in the scene before him, the somehow sex maid cafe themed orgy (sexy party? But there was no group sex minus the man in the back fucking three maids!) that he hadn’t noticed you approach him. He tensed yet again when your hands fisted into his shirt, your warm breath brushing against his exposed collarbones, a curling sweetness emitting from your person and knocking his breath away yet again.

“Kaibara-sama, I never expected you to finally come. I’ve missed you,” you whine, pressing your body so close to his. Your stocking-covered thighs were brushing against his slowly awakening dick.

“Y-Y/n,” Kaibara stuttered, and he winced at how not part of the plan that was. “I-I thought this was a maid cafe?”

“We are a maid cafe,” you sigh as if he was asking an amusing yet dumb question. Your arms wrapping around his neck, and hips rolling against his. “We service our masters however they see fit! I wanna help Kaibara-sama feel good now that he’s here.”

Kaibara hisses under his breath, the feeling of your thigh rubbing against his growing dick insatiable as it is slightly uncomfortable due to the rough fabric of his jeans. “I’m here to drop off your charger! You forgot it! I-I’m leaving after this.”

You grin, your laughter bell-like in his ear as you nuzzle your nose against the smooth curve of his neck. “I left it there on purpose; I wanted Kaibara-sama to follow me here and see if he could still love me like this.” Goosebumps flash across his body, and Kaibara whines at the back of his throat as you begin walking backward, taking him to the table where you once sat. “I never wanted Kaibara-sama to see me like this, never wanted Kaibara-sama to see and know what a big whore I am before he confessed his feelings to me. But Kaibara-sama followed me to my work and didn’t run away… I’m so blessed.”

Your hands landed on his chest, and Kaibara yelped as you shoved him onto the spacious, comfortable chair before the table. Your teeth bit into your lower lip, eyes practically glowing with lust as a single sleeve began descending from your shoulder.

Kaibara suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“I’m at your service, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering. “How may I help you?”

Kaibara was going to respond eloquently and affirmatively that he didn’t need you to service him, but the Kaibara-sama sounded so lovely.

“I— um, well— I— ohmygoD!”

Kaibara nearly leaped out of his own skin as you pushed his knees apart and kneeled before him. Your eyes locked on his before glancing down to the prominent bulge in his pants. You grin, fingers stretching out and eagerly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling out his hard cock in less than ten seconds.

“Wowwww,” you breathe, eyes lighting up at the still hardening dick you were holding in your hands. “Kaibara-sama… you’re so big!”

You stared at the easily nine-inch dick in your hands, the slight curve to it making your core burn, and the bluish veins dancing under the skin making your mouth water. He was better than what you had expected him to be, and you wanted to know how he tasted, how he felt in your mouth and your pussy.

His erratic breathing caught your attention, and you looked back up at him, the scarlet on his cheeks, the expression that told you that he was battling instinct and morals. It was up to you, his maid, to make the decision for him, it seemed.

“I’ll take good care of you, Kaibara-sama,” you promised, heart hammering in your chest as you leaned forward, and without much of an issue, swallowed at least half of his cock.

Kaibara’s reaction is instantaneous; the near howl of pleasure and surprise ripping from his throat is a sound you’re almost unfamiliar with. He was such a serious man; even when he was comfortable and energetic, there was a sense of seriousness to him. There was a time, however, that you remember him being near-feral, demanding, excited. It was when there was a competition or when his feelings truly and utterly overcame him. You smiled around his cock, your teeth barely scraping the length of his cock, and giggled.

You overwhelmed him.

But there was no time for celebrations, no time to think about how you were serving your master to the best you could; his hands were suddenly fisted into your hair, and his hips rolled up into you, fucking your throat. Tears sprung in your eyes, the uncomfortable sensation of his cock flushes down your throat, pressing so heavy on your tongue.

“F-Fuck, this feels so fucking good!” Kaibara gasps, his eyebrows scrunching and hips lifting off the seat to continue face fucking you.

You relax your throat as best you can, chokes and gags pittering out of your mouth despite your best attempts. You hum, forcing your throat to allow the tip of his cock to go even further down your throat. Kaibara moans loudly, the noises he makes dripping down your back, making you feel sweaty, hot, and flush. His noises stir the heat between your thighs, making one of your hands go down beneath the layers of your puffy skirt to press to your throbbing clit, desperate to relieve the building, untouched tension.

“No!” Kaibara hisses, a single hand leaving your head to grab onto your wandering hand and bringing it back up. You yelp around his cock at the sudden movement, and you’re forced to come off his cock with haggling, rough coughs. Tears fall down your cheeks, and there's a thick line of saliva and precum trailing between the tip of his cock and the bottom of your lip. “You’re my maid, right?”

You cough, your lungs are burning with wrongly swallowed saliva, and the recent asphyxiation you had. Cocking your head to the side, you startle when he suddenly leans in near, pinching your cheeks between two fingers and drawing you near him.

“Answer me, y/l/n-chan.”

“Y-Yes!” you squeak, swollen lips trembling and your breathing hitching as you shiver. There was a fire in his eyes, a type of lust-fueled rage that made your skin tingle and crawl in the sweetest of ways. “I’m here to service Kaibara-sama.”

“Then why are you trying to relieve yourself?” he snaps, face so near you want to kiss him, and you whimper because his scolding and humiliation do nothing to ease the fire in your cunt… it only ravages it, letting it fester into a raging wildfire. “You’re here for me, your master, so fuck me — focus on just me.”

“Yes, Kaibara-sama!” you shiver, body tingling as you reclaim his cock in your mouth.

And unlike before, where Kaibara merely sounded like a man who was feasting upon the food of the gods, he sits up straighter, more commanding, a man who sat in his chair knowing his worth. He took on the deception of a master.

“Hold my dick with your hands,” Kaibara grunts, hands fisting the hair at the nape of your neck and forcing your head to tilt up towards him. “I can’t trust you.”

You nodded your head, hands coming up to hold onto the base of his cock that your mouth couldn’t take in. You were fucking him diligently and intently with your mouth, driving him further down, your tongue and hollowed cheeks doing all it could to please your master. You sucked his dick with the intention of promising him that you were worth it, of making him fill your mouth and throat with him so he could never doubt that it was him you wanted, him you wanted to consume.

“Such a good sluttly little maid,” Kaibara praised and degraded. His hands tighten almost painfully in your hair. “Taking my big cock so easily... Don’t tell me you’ve been practicing on other men.”

You make a noise that screams no.

You would never!

“Oh, no?” Kaibara grunts, his tongue licking out past his lips, and you shudder under his gaze. “Did my slutty fucking maid keep her mouth clean for me?”

You whine in approval, your lungs burning as he keeps you still on his cock, eyes deceivingly angry.

“Good… that just means I’ll have to fuck your whore pussy so good you’ll never ask or seek a new master,” Kaibara grinned, and your eyes widened.

It happened so fast, you were on the ground one second, and in the next, he had you pinned with your back against the table. It was almost uncomfortable, the edge of the table pressing into your spine, and your hands scrambled to latch onto his shirt as his jeans fell to his knees and his hands gripped the top of your maid outfit down, exposing your naked breasts.

His hands found a place on your breasts, warm and calloused fingers moving against smooth, soft skin. You moaned loudly, hips twitching unconsciously as he brushed against the swell of your nipple.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Kaibara groaned, fingers pinching roughly against your skin, and you warbled a scream. It wasn’t painful; it was pleasurable. Your head swam in a way it never had before when you had serviced other men, your clit was throbbing with an increase of needed attention, and your voice keened with his praise. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you — wanted this. I wanna make you feel so good, let your master fuck you however I want, y/l/n, I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

You nod your head, words failing you, and you watched Kaibara let out a heavy stream of air out of his nose, a near perverted, happy grin on his face.

“Say it.”

“Fuck me, Kaibara-sama,” you whisper, hands fisting into his shirt. “Ruin me. Claim me. Make me yours.”

His eyes flash dangerously.

“You were never not mine.”

And with a hand looping underneath your knee and with the sudden shove on your shoulder to knock you back, Kaibara pressed his cock against your wet, sopping entrance and shoved into you. You scream loudly, hands digging into his back as his cock enters you, unforgiving and demanding. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his hips as you shudder and shake, body twitching under the dull, hot stretch of him in you, your body sweating with the consuming heat and pleasure that his entrance gives you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you squeal, fingernails digging into his skin, face burying into his neck. “Kaibara-sama is so big, he’s stretching me out so much, I’m— I can’t—”

Kaibara clicks his tongue, his nose nuzzling into your cheek, “Don’t say that, y/l/n-chan. Don’t ever tell your master that you can’t. You can do anything so long as I ask of it, right? I don’t like the word can’t.”

You whimper, head nodding in understanding as you shift your hips partly for needed friction, partly for relief.

“Stop that,” Kaibara orders, hands suddenly on your hips, preventing you from moving. “Ask permission from your master if you can move. You are here to serve me; you are not here for yourself. Do you understand?”

Your breathing is heavy, your legs shaking as you nod, breathlessly saying that you agree even though you need relief. You need to please your master; you have to make sure he continues to want your service: just you, no one else.

“Good girl,” he praises and somehow pushes even further into you.

You moan loudly at the movement, fingers digging into his skin yet again, and Kaibara laughed, teeth nipping at your collarbone. Your back is entirely arched, jaw slacked, voice dead on your tongue because the feeling of him buried deep within you is staggering. You let out a single happy noise, your mouth gasping for breath as your voice finally begins to come back to you.

“So tight, so hot,” Kaibara groans, his teeth dragging up and down your neck as his hips roll back and thrust back into you at his own pace. It’s steady, slow almost—a steady beat like a subtle heartbeat that kept you sane. “Don’t be quiet… I want to hear what I do to you; I want everyone to hear what I do to you.”

And a hand pinches your clit at the same time he slams roughly, with tremendous strength into you, and you wail.

It’s as if that wail was a starting sound, the sound that told Kaibara that he was in the clear to do whatever he wanted. To fuck you as he deemed, to make you fulfill your duty to providing and exceeding his every need and demand. He fucked into you, each snap of his hip, every roll, sending loud slaps through the room. The table creaked and shifted with every advancing move, and you rolled your hips up, fucking back into him, desperate to make his breath hitch and hiss in pleasure. His teeth buried into your skin, sucking and nibbling marks onto your skin, subtle and near bloody marks to show the world that you were his.

“Kaibara-sama!” you scream at a particular thrust, back arching wildly, eyes slamming shut as you moan to the heavens. “Kiss me please! Please kiss me—”

Kaibara’s mouth was over yours immediately. You cried into his mouth, shuddering and shaking as he continued his maddening dance with you, the endless, exciting cycle of tingling sensations and exploding warmth. His tongue entered your mouth, tasting of him, iron, and sweat. You moan louder, your velvet walls clenching and milking against his length. You don’t want to ever pull out; you want him, his seed, everything.

He kisses you like a madman, someone who believed that if he stopped, he would die.

You eat it up, returning it in full, unable to even believe you want him to stop.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Kaibara pants, hands coming back down to your hips and keeping them in place as he suddenly, powerfully, and somehow rhythmically pounding into you in short, strong fucks.

It’s overwhelming, the feeling of his girth stretching you out and abandoning you so quickly, the way his tip licks against your cervix, teasing up against your sweet spot. His face is desperate, needing, and so powerful that you cry to him, your master, your god. Your pussy is soaked with your essence, the sex spilling it all-around your thighs and on him, the wet squelching pounding making you embarrassed and so much more turned on. His teeth sink into your jaw, and your body is begging, twitching, the heat in your stomach overwhelming and no longer building but waiting for it to be unleashed.

“K-Kaibara-sama!” you cry, a warning for the near-inevitable.

But you wail his name, the electricity in your veins and blood scorching the levels of your skin, and Kaibara takes that as a reason to do more, to fuck more. He drills into you at a new speed, a new power. Your head is swimming in the delirium, and your body trembles, the words “more, faster, harder” spilling from your mouth without consent, but tears build in your eyes as his fingers seem to almost spin against your clit and you scream.

You cum loudly, aggressively, all your energy destroyed as you hit the high. Kaibara moans against your bruised and marked skin; the warmth heat of spilling seed expelling into your cunt is a sensation that drives you insane as he collapses his weight on top of you. You’re breathless, speechless, a part of you unable to comprehend that your crush had fucked you before he had kissed you, that he was the best fuck you had, and how this man wanted you back.

It’s quiet for a bit, the two of you laying on the table as cum dripped out of your cunt, and he rested his head between your exposed breasts.

“So,” you finally rasp, a soft grin coming onto your face. “You have my charger?”

“18000 yen?!” Kaibara barked, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the older lady at the counter who was billing him for his session.

“We are a sex club, Kaibara-sama,” she sighed. “Not only did you have a three-hour session with our most requested maid, but you also marked the merchandise.”

“I couldn’t?!” Kaibara snapped but cooled down almost immediately when the lady pointed at a: ‘Fines for every mark on the maids!!!!’ sign. “Oh.”

“Take it from my paycheck,” you sing from beside him, bundled up in a coat, the marks he gave you completely hidden now. It was the end of your shift and closing time, after all. “I got him riled up without telling him the rules.”

Kaibara chuckled as you arranged a proper check for him.

He thought about what he thought of his life, and while he couldn’t say that his life wasn’t a hentai right now, he knew, without a doubt, that life is not a shoujo manga.

#kaibara x reader #kaibara smut #bnha x reader #bnha #mha

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Twelve: Family

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: THE FINAL CHAPTER! very emotional, new beginnings, bullying mention, poverty mention, abuse mention, allusions to pregnancy.

Word count: 3000>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Twelve - Epilogue [coming soon!]

“I don’t know if I could do it,” Maxwell sighed, pacing around in anxious circles. He looked different, in his denim jeans and khaki-green cable knit sweater. It made a change from the oversized powersuits he once donned. Alistair was sat at the dining room table, colouring in, and Max was having a nervous breakdown about getting his haircut. “I’ve had the blonde in for so long.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his shaggy and unstyled hair. When it wasn’t perfectly coiffed, it was wavy and glossy, and smelled distinctly like the freshest green apples. “It’ll be okay. Think of it as washing away all the terrible things that went on in the past and starting anew. Like… turning over a new leaf.”

You made a very good point. Maxwell knew he had to suck it up and just do it. It would be okay. He didn’t have to be Max Lord anymore, and he didn’t have this television persona to live up to. His main focus now was just being a father, and that’s all that mattered. All he needed to be, was himself. Maxwell Lorenzano.

“Daddy look!” Alistair smiled, waving around the piece of paper he’d spent the morning drawing on. It was stained slightly from his breakfast, and crinkled in the corners for where he’d applied slightly too much pressure when colouring, but all-in-all, it was perfect. Maxwell took the artwork and looked closely at it. Another typical family portrait of you, Alistair and Max. But this time, Maxwell was doting brown hair, and it reminded him of his younger days when he was first starting out as a businessman. “This is how you’ll look when you come home from the salon!”

“Wow Alistair, I love it!” Maxwell praised, unable to contain his grin. He held the portrait to his face and showed it off. “What do you think?” he asked you. “Do you think I’ll look good with the brown hair?”

You giggled and nodded your head, before pressing the palm of your hand flat against Maxwell’s chest and brushing your lips against his. “You’ll look so handsome, I’m sure.”

“Ew!” Alistair cried, pulling the paper from his father’s hand as you kissed him softly on the lips. The curve of Max’s nose nudged against yours and he laughed at his son’s reaction.

“Alright,” you said, pointing your finger. “You better go. Don’t want to miss your appointment.”

Maxwell nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” he announced.

The second Maxwell left the house, your stomach began to twist. You’d been living at Lord manor for a month now but truthfully, it felt like a lifetime. It felt like you had always been there. You were adjusting to your new life pretty well, but this morning sickness that you had started to get was an unwelcome experience. Amazon’s never got ill, so this was brand new to you, and you weren’t enjoying it one bit.

You rubbed your stomach and took a sip of the glass of water that you’d been nursing. Sliding down to sit next to Alistair, you watched as he finished his drawing, adding a few final perfections. Once it was done, you hung it to the refrigerator and praised him for his hard work.

“Ali, why don’t you grab your shoes and we’ll have a walk down to the Smithsonian?” you smiled, grabbing your jacket that was hanging over the kitchen door.

“Ooh! Is there a new exhibition?” He enquired curiously, hopping onto his feet and fastening his shoe laces.

“I don’t think so,” you admitted sheepishly. “I have to go meet with some friends.”

Taking the bus was a new experience for both you and Alistair. Joe, Maxwell’s driver, would normally drive Alistair around to and from places. But not today. The bus was slightly smelly and the seats were sticky, but by the looks of it, Alistair was having the time of his life. He pointed out the window, grinning, and talked to you about all the different D.C. landmarks the both of you passed as you were driven into the city centre. He might have only been six years old, but that was six years of living in the world of man. You’d only been here for a month, and so Alistair could teach you a lot.

Driving past the park, Alistair gasped, and shuffled into your body. “That’s the park where we first met,” Alistair pointed. You narrowed your eyes as you took in the sight of tall green trees and shrubbery. He was right. “Do you remember that day? You were wearing an awesome superhero costume like something out of my comic books. And you wore a tiara, and I asked if you were a princess. And you scared my bullies away, and helped me look for dad.”

“I remember.” you smiled, ruffling Alistair’s dark hair.

You remembered asking Alistair what his father looked like, and the only thing the boy could say was ‘strong, cool, and the best dad in the world’. Counting your lucky stars, you were so thankful you had found your forever family. You had come so far from that moment.

“Did you ever tell daddy… about those bullies in the park?” Alistair asked you hesitantly, his voice suddenly small and timid.

You pulled off him and looked him in the eyes. “No. Why?”

Alistair paused for a moment and glanced back out the window. “I was afraid he’d be disappointed in me.”

Your heart shattered in your chest. “Ali,” you said quietly, tears threatening to prick your eyes. “Your father could never, ever be disappointed in you. You know that, yes?”

Alistair nodded his head silently.

“He loves you so much,” you continued. “And the whole bullying thing… I think he’d understand better than anyone else.”

You remembered all the visions you had of Maxwell, even seeing him as a child at one point. You remembered him wearing rugged clothes that were too small for him and how he was picked on for his broken shoes.

“Really? You think so?” Alistair asked.

“I know so,” you confirmed, pressing a kiss into Alistair’s hair. “Those bullies will never amount to anything if they continue doing what they’re doing. But you are so much better than them. Stronger. Your power lies in your heart, and in the truth, and in love.”

Alistair smiled. “You’re a real hero, aren’t you?”

“We’re all heroes.”

————

Yourself, Maxwell and Alistair loved trips to the Smithsonian. Diana always organised special access for the three of you, to go after hours when the entire museum was empty. Alistair was admiring the fish in the aquarium, when you noticed Barbara and Diana, and waved them over.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Diana smiled.

“It was sort of an impulse thing,” you explained. “Uhm, actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

You pulled Diana to one side and left Barbara with Alistair. “Remember how you said ‘I owe you one’, since I like… got your girlfriend to renounce her wish and kinda helped you save the world by destroying the second dreamstone?” you grinned, trying to hold back a laugh.

Diana rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “What are you plotting?”

“Max has been… worried, to say the least. We’re going to have to sell Black Gold and it’s a real shame because-- he worked so hard on it. We have some money and well, I haven’t exactly ran this by him yet but I was thinking about investing what we do have into the Smithsonian. Just like what Maxwell promised to do in the first place.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Diana sighed. “The gemology department is doing just fine.”

You shook your head, your smile only growing. “No Di, that’s not what I was getting at. How would you feel about… expanding the gemology department?”

“I’m not quite sure I follow…”

“I’ve heard Barbara talk about how there’s a lack of space to facilitate all the rocks and stones the Smithsonian keeps bringing in. She has a real fear that the entire paleontology department could be shut down and replaced with something else.” You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

“That’s true…”

“So what if we use the Black Gold building as an extension for the Smithsonian, and have it specialise in all these fancy rocks and gems and stones. We could transport everything over and then we could utilize the leftover funds that Maxwell has, to keep all the palaeontologists and geologists employed. Hell, with a whole new building, we could even create more jobs for people. It would also mean that we wouldn’t have to fire Max’s old employees and-- Oh Di, I just know Max would love it. He really does have a passion for gemology. And his son, Ali… he has an interest too.”

“So I heard,” Diana rolled her eyes, but, to be frank, she liked what you were getting at. An expansion wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing… “It’s a big responsibility though, and it seems you haven’t even spoken to Maxwell about it. You would get funding from the Smithsonian as an institution, yes, but… it would still be Max’s business. Do you really think he could handle that? After what happened to his last business?”

“He’s smart,” you assured her. “And he’s a good businessman. He knows all these things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Last time he just got unlucky. But this, this could really be something great. We have the building, and the passion, and enough money to get started. Please Diana… I know you could make this happen. Please.”

Diana spent a moment pondering the possibilities before shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “Alright,” She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

You grinned and squealed excitedly, wrapping your arms around your half sister and squeezing her tight. “Thank you Di!” She laughed and rubbed your back before you pulled off her. “Oh, and Di… there’s one more thing.”

Diana tilted her head and gazed at you with fresh bewilderment. Looking around the museum to make sure no one was around to hear what you had to say, you leaned into the Amazon and whispered a confession you’d been keeping to yourself for the past month.

————

Maxwell sat in the chair and frowned upon seeing his reflection in the mirror. “What can I do for you?” asked the stylist as she smacked her lips on a piece of gum. Max wasn’t sure if he could really bring himself to do this, until he remembered your words. This was ‘turning over a new leaf’-- a new start and fresh beginnings.

“Uh, a trim please,” Maxwell requested before taking a shaky exhale. It was now or never, he just had to take the leap. “No, that’s not everything,” he sighed. “Could you perhaps take the blonde… out of my hair?” The question left his lips with an air of unsurity. Could one even do that? Take the colour out of hair?

“You want the colour stripped?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. Maxwell supposed that was one way of putting it.

“Yes, I do.” he confirmed.

The stylist processed Maxwell’s words for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “As you wish.”

As the stylist wrapped Max’s shaggy golden locks into foil, he closed his eyes. He’d come so far since the whole dreamstone debacle. His whole life had been a rollercoaster of up and down events but now, finally, things were evening out for him -- in the best way possible. He’d fallen in love and secured his family and home. The only thing he was mildly worried about, was the issue with Black Gold. But he knew that he’d somehow figure it out, especially now that he had you by his side to help him.

He’d always seen himself as an independent man. He fought hard to be as successful. He escaped his hometown, his abusive father, he ran away from poverty and was discriminated against by upper class white businessmen who told him he could never amount to anything. He proved all of them wrong. Because now, he had everything he could ever want. He didn’t need stacks of money or material possessions when he had you and Alistair. Maybe he wasn’t as independent as he once thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, he liked the company of others. He liked having you and his son around.

In his fight for wealth and success, he’d lost everything that mattered the most. But most importantly, he had lost himself. Maxwell swore that he’d never let that happen again.

As the stylist removed the silver foil from his hair, Maxwell nervously anticipated the result. His once bottle blonde hair was now a chocolate brown colour, and it reminded him distinctly of his youth. Max couldn’t help but feel like he looked younger, and he wasn’t going to complain about that.

He just hoped you liked it as much as he did.

————

“I just don’t understand why mommy is taking so long,” Alistair grumbled as he and Barbara waited outside the ladies restroom. “And why did auntie Diana have to go into the toilet with her?”

Barbara stifled a laugh. “You’re inpatient, just like your dad.”

Impatience must’ve run in the family because you were sitting on the toilet seat, tapping your food as anxiety flooded your body. You didn’t expect to be this nervous. You’d wanted a child for so long -- in fact, your whole life to be exact. But now that there was a chance of it actually happening, you were beyond terrified. Maybe it was the fact Maxwell didn’t know about your symptoms, but you knew better than to feel alone. You were never going to be alone.

“How long left?” you asked Diana, who checked her wristwatch. It was an antique from the early 1900’s, something very special and something she kept very close to her heart.

“It should be ready now.” she told you, handing you the stick you had just peed on.

“I don’t want to look.” you squirmed, covering your face with your hands.

“Wow,” Diana hummed, her jaw parting slightly when she took in the results.

“Wh-- what is it?” you asked, nervously.

“You’re pregnant.”

————

When Maxwell came home, you were shocked to say the least. His brown hair was absolutely gorgeous, and it suited him better than you’d expected. The deep shade was identical to the colour in his sparkling eyes. Jokingly, he tossed his hair and you let out a laugh.

“I was right,” you giggled, running your fingers through his locks. “So handsome.”

“I love it daddy!” Alistair cheered.

“Thanks buddy,” Maxwell grinned. “I like it too.”

Taking a deep breath, you took Max’s hand and pulled him into the living room, shutting the door behind you. It was quiet in there -- the perfect place to tell Maxwell your news. It had been a nostalgic day, and even standing in the living room reminded you of the time Max first brought you home.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you, slightly concerned. But your warm smile soon eased him. You felt the need to wrap your arms around him and envelop him into a hug. Max had taken a big step today, and you were proud of him, but now it was your moment. It was now or never.

Harnessing every ounce of confidence within you, you took his hands and looked him in the eye. “Max, I’m pregnant.”

Max’s brown eyes widened and he was completely lost for words. “I-- you-- you’re--”

“Yes.” you smiled, taking his hands and placing them on your stomach.

His shocked expression turned into an elated grin as he processed the good news. “You’re really--”

“I am.” you confirmed.

You didn’t think you’d ever seen Maxwell so happy in your life. He wrapped his arms around you and held you so tight, like he was afraid to let you go. He swore in that moment he would never leave you, or his growing family, ever again.

This was it for him.

This was the start of Maxwell Lorenzano’s new life.

————

THE END.

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Author’s Note: “I won’t cry” she says while sobbing into her Google Docs document. Thank you all for reading I Believe In Love. It’s a story I have wanted to share with you since I saw WW84 in the theatre, and I just can’t believe it’s finally over. This fic will always have a special place in my heart. The themes and plot points mean so much to me, but not only that, I’ve had the most amazing feedback on this fic and I will honestly cherish that for the rest of my life. I poured my heart and soul into writing I Believe In Love and it honestly one of my biggest comforts. I want you all to know that an epilogue is coming and if you have any requests for these characters I have created, feel free to send them my way. I adore my Amazon Goddess!Reader and I would absolutely love to continue their story at some point in the future. If you’ve followed me on this journey over the past four months, all I can really say is thank you. I love you so so much.

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I Believe In Love taglist: [in the replies!]

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