#not only in his lack of having it but with the implication that he's just not desirable in that way at all

[sordidmusings]

Between Two Points - Ace

Art from the doujinshi Torch by NINEKOKS

Summary: You and Ace have had a ✨thing✨for a good while now so sharing a bed wasn’t strange for you. It was, however, absolutely tormenting Ace, who couldn’t keep his mind from every time you’ve touched. You wake up to find him wanting. You thought you could keep things quick and fun but they just keep on escalating. Especially when he begs to be inside you for the first time. 

A/N: oh how Ace has haunted me, especially while writing this lol he’s one of my top favs so brain said we extra need to do him justice 👏 pretty happy with the smut but I’m most happy with the ending scene - I wanted it to be sweet and silly and so very Ace. Part of the Between Two Points series!

Warnings: nsfw, Implications of inexperience (Ace), first time together, sleepy sex (at first lol), subby Ace, he begs and thanks you like a lot, he calls you “pretty” as a pet name, praise kink both ways, emotionally fragile Ace, I didn’t mean for that to come out but he demands it, I just wanna shower him in love and validation until he Understands, until then he gets some pussy, multiple orgasms (for both yayyyyy), overstimulation on Ace, probably cumflation, definitely my obsession with men fighting not to cum, you make him suck the mess off your fingers, aftercare, silly banter to soothe the soul, fem!reader - kept it basically gn but then an old lady joke called to me at the end whoops

Word Count: 10.2k

Come get a serving of that soup ( ˘▽˘)っ♨

“If you see your daydreams in me, they'll not lack

What's been weighted in me, I'll make you quake with reason

I can feel your knees sinking into the bed

Searching in my dark eyes to break what’s been said

There’s a wake of grace, hunting your soreness down

There's a light in my skin that's been dimmed

I'mma dig you up and give you what I took

Pull you up and tuck you in and make you look

I'ma smooth your shoulders down and calm what's shook

It was all forlorn, if only for a season

Watching me is like watching a fire take your eyes from you”

“Can something like this be pulled

From under our feet?

Leaving our skin

And burning coals to meet

Tell me now

The shortest distance

Between two points

Is the line

From me to you”

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Ace still can’t believe you’re in the same bed. Every step into intimacy he’s taken with you leaves him shocked and stumbling. He’ll keep tripping after you forever though because, gods, it’s you. You’ve done a hundred and one things to impress him in emergency and battle, to take his breath away with how you decorate yourself, to make him and others watch on in awe at your skills. Though, all of that pales in comparison to the simple act of you being you. You, who wormed your way into his mind with your quirks and open-minded talks. You, who could light up his body with a simple look, a tender touch, a loving smile. You, who took hold of his heart with your patient kindness and understanding. 

You, who is currently keeping him up with the delicious turmoil of holding you so close.

This is the first time you’ve slept in the same bed. Now, you’ve done plenty of other things together, so Ace hadn’t thought that it would be such a big deal. When it hit him that he was really going to be falling asleep cuddled up to you, something so affectionate and domestic, his heart pumped an extra hard beat to wash tingles under his skin. He had thought the flush of excitement would peter off into comfort and contentment. To be fair, a part of it did. The problem is that the other part began incessantly bombarding him with thoughts of everything you could be doing in the bed besides sleeping.

His past experience with you is only making it harder where he thought it would ease his nerves at being close. The sweet or heated kisses you’d grab him to steal only make his lips lonely at their memory. The spark in your eyes as your kisses move southward haunts him and keeps his dick twitching pathetically against your thigh. The echoes of times he got to be the one with his head between your legs, smothering himself in the heady taste and smell of you, has him biting back whimpers. Fuck, he’s aching and flushed and desperate and all you’re doing is sleeping in his arms. He feels guilt creep in.

This should be enough. He shouldn’t be laying here wishing for more of you while you’re already so sweetly snuggling into his chest, offering him trust and affection. Holding you while you’re at your most vulnerable should sate him. Feeling how soft and warm you are with your weight sinking the two of you together should ease him to rest. Yet his mind keeps reminding him of the last time your weight was pressing on him, leaving him equal parts wound up and embarrassed.

As usual, you had been tapped right into when he needed you to escalate things but felt he didn’t have the right to ask. All day he’d been hovering around you, a hand always on arm or shoulder and eyes always ready to jump to you. He was chasing at your heels when you waved for him to follow you so you could settle him with some attention. He was pawing at you the moment your lips touched, moaning at the first rub of tongues, grinding right when you pressed deeper into him. 

Soon he was on the floor with you on his lap, your palms pressing your weight into his heaving chest and your hips working him over. He flushed an even deeper shade of pink when you told him how pretty he looks. The thought of it has his cock jumping even now, and he struggles to keep from grinding up into your lower stomach. He can feel a hint of your mound at the base of his cock, begging him to press harder to tease himself with your plush heat and the firmness of your pelvis underneath. Knowing your clit was hiding right there against him - in easy reach for him to make you squirm with pleasure, make such pretty pretty noises, think of nothing else but how good he’s making you feel - chips away at his resolve. 

The memory continues with the feeling of his fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, caught between pulling you faster and shoving you off because he felt all too close to his end for a grown man who hasn’t even gotten his pants off yet. You were even still fully clothed but didn’t seem to pay that any mind as you circled and ground yourself on the hard cock trapped in his pants. Even with the layers, he felt how hot your cunt was getting, burning even more against him than your mouth when it took to painting a path through his freckles from cheeks to chest. When you took breaks to grind slowly over him, he felt the little moment where your hips slid before your clothes followed, delayed by you slipping through your own wetness first. His eyes rolled back at the fact that using him got you soaked and that out of everyone you chose him to sit your drooling pussy on.

With that thought and his grinds chasing you back, he felt his balls pull taught and his cock pound dangerously.

No, fuck, he hasn’t even made you cum - his clothes, fuck, he’s still in his clothes you, can’t see him cum in his pants like some pathetic boy, no nonono-

“Please,” Ace gasped out, using all his will power to still his hips and keep them pressed to the ground, “I’m- I’m too- please -hhah- you’re just so- fuck! Please, baby.” He was panting the words between moans, trying to find enough strength to hold your hips still. “Just s-slow down, I’m -nnnngh-” You just smiled devilishly down at him and kept picking up the pace. He grit his teeth and arched his head back, “I’m so fucking close- ah!”

He hides his face in the pillows and your hair even as the praises you had showered him in echo in his ears while he holds your sleeping body. His own painfully awake body shivers while he thinks of how hard he came, how each pump had felt like overwhelming bliss trapped against your heat and to the tune of your voice. It has him grinding against you before he can even think and sighing out in relief at a little bit of the touch he needs.

“Ace?”

Your sleepy mumble makes him freeze, every muscle taught like he grabbed a live wire.

“Why are you awake, honey?” The genuine concern in your sleep-thick voice only makes him feel worse. You try to lift your face from his chest, but a hand on the back of your head traps you there. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he swallows, hoping to trap the stutter back down. “Don’t worry - go back to sleep.”

He places a gentle kiss to the top of your head and scratches your scalp to try and settle you. It works for a moment and he relishes in the feel of your body relaxing back against him. That is, until you shift to the side and snuggle deeper. Your thigh brushes his obvious hard on and you both tense. He panics when he feels your eyelashes tickle his chest, letting him know your eyes flew open wide.

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh, he thinks miserably. He’s confused when he feels you smile against his skin.

“Ace, honey, are you enjoying sleeping with me?” Even with the sleepy tone, you manage to get a lot of smug teasing in your voice.

“Yes?” That wasn’t meant to be a question.

“You sure?” you prod. “You seem awful tense.” 

You emphasize the last word with a firm press and rub of your thigh against his aching erection. His whole body shivers and a high sigh escapes him. His hands grasp you at hip and shoulder and he’s struck with the déjà vu of not knowing whether to drag you closer or make you stop. 

You’re having no such struggle, happy to find him a wanting mess. You’ll never get over seeing the confident and playful air he parades around with slipping off to reveal something fragile and seeking when you touch him. Sure, he won you initially with that part of him, charming you to his side like every other moth drawn to his inherent light, trapping you there with all the others under his protection and love. Knowing what pieces can lie under that blaze only makes the show more fun to watch. Knowing someone so powerful, so magnetic, feels the same way for you? Shows you places they’re scared to let others see? It’s your greatest rush and most cherished responsibility.

“You’re perfect, honey,” you praise. He just barely bites back a whimper. “Did you know I was dreaming about you?”

“You were?” Ace sounds much more disbelieving than you’d like.

“Mhmm, I do it often.” Your voice softens with honesty. “You’re always on my mind.”

There’s a slight tremble to Ace’s hold on you. He wants to say something, anything, but his throat has closed too tight for words to pass. 

“I can prove it to you,” the flirtatious heat to your voice eases the fragile vulnerability away. Ace is yet again thankful for your sixth sense when it comes to his needs. Your thigh creeping its way over his leg and hips helps distract him from the pressure behind his eyes. You settle your leg when it’s resting centered on his sensitive head. The weight of your soft thigh easing down on him forces a shaky “hh-ah!” from him and he feels his face flush in embarrassment and need. You reward the sound with a kiss to his pec.

“Well?” you whisper. “Are you gonna check?”

“Huh?” Ace’s blood is all in the wrong head for him to understand anything but praise and orders. You giggle at him and it makes his dick jump against your thigh.

Taking mercy on him, you grab the hand that’s planted on your hip. Slowly, you lead it to the swell of your ass and press his large hand to grip at you. He does so eagerly, playing with the pliant flesh filling his warm hold. Your sleep shorts are thin, letting him feel you easily despite the barrier. He can’t resist the instinct to pull and spread you open. You hum happily at the feeling, arching into it. Ace blows out a tense breath, bedding his cheek into the top of your head and canting his hips up ever so slightly.

“So good, sweetheart,” you sigh. He squeezes down and turns his face to find comfort in the smell of your hair. “Let me show you.”

You urge his hand a little lower, right to the hem of your shorts. You only stop when his fingertips slip under and tickle the skin right beside the swell of your lips. You want him to decide this on his own. He teases the elastic for a moment before trailing the pad of his finger over your underwear right where the seam of your pussy is, starting from your entrance up to your clit and back. Another content hum leaves you, encouraging him, and he swivels his hand to cup your heat. He shivers at the hot breath curling over his chest, and his head swirls happily when you arch your hips up to push your cunt deeper into his palm. 

This time it’s your own hand gripping your ass to spread you open for him. You arch and nudge into his hold more, unintentionally grinding over his cock in your writhing. His fingers twitch, teasing your clit, sparking it to life and leaving you wanting. He’s having trouble keeping himself tempered instead of writhing when he can feel the dampness of your underwear and how they slide messily between his palm and your pussy. He wants it coating his fingers, smeared on his lips, maybe one day he can feel it soaking his cock- 

“Touch me,” you whine impatiently.

Hasty fingers push under the band of your underwear and slip between your folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Ace moans. His voice is low in his chest but softened by his breathlessness. He takes his time petting around your entrance and enjoying the feeling of your lips slipping to encase his fingers when he flattens them out to reach your clit.

“Told you I was dreaming about you,” you mumble happily. Even though your body is heated and tingling, you’ve still got the weight of sleep pulling at you, leaving you in a content mix of dreaminess and pleasure. You relax further into Ace, happy to let him touch you as he likes in that tentative, worshipping way of his. It’s that endearing contrast to the brash and confident way he presents himself and fights. He always starts touching you like it’s an honor he doesn’t deserve, something he needs to take slowly lest he scare you off or never get the chance again. Even though you love the treatment, it breaks your heart that he thinks he’s so below you as to not deserve to touch you, let alone receive your affection.

The tip of a finger presses at your entrance, just enough to have the pad sink in. You swivel your hips to urge him further and moan when he listens to your plea. Ace moans with you, always amazed at your tight heat. It welcomes him easily despite gripping down snugly on his skin. He pulls his digit out with a curl, shivering when your muscles clamp back against him. You sigh his name in that dreamy way that makes him feel special, and he can’t help but add another finger and sink them in deep. Even though he’s in to the last knuckle, you shove your face down into his chest and your ass into the air to try and suck him in deeper. He rewards you by petting at your walls, drawing more pleasurable twitches from your cunt.

“More,” you whine. It’s half demand and half complaint and all turning his brain to mush. How quickly you are winding into desperation is only making his own need grow. He needs to hear more from you, he needs you to fix the burning under his skin, he needs fuck himself into a place so deep in you that you can never be rid of him.

“Need to be inside you,” Ace groans before he can think about the words. “Please, pretty baby, you feel too good-” he swallows thickly when you hungrily grind back onto his massaging fingers, “fuck -hah- need to know-” he can’t finish his sentence because you’ve snuck your hand down to palm his erection and stroke him in time with your thrusting hips.

“Think you’re ready to fuck me?” you ask. You meant to check in and make sure he was emotionally ready, but your breaths rushing out of you made it sound harsh.

“Please,” he begs, voice broken, holding you tight with his free hand, “I’ll make you feel so good- promise, promise.”

“I’m just worried-”

“It’ll be okay,” he promises immediately, “just a quick feel, you don’t even have to let me fuck you- just gotta feel you on my cock at least once.” He tries to win your favor by using his free hand to tease your clit.

“Ace,” you gasp. It’s hard to slow him down when he’s winding your body up so well. With a quick jerk, he shifts you up his body, giving him better leverage to work you on his fingers. It lands your face in the pillow next to his and he takes the opportunity to suck open mouthed kisses across your neck. You mean to talk to him and get a hold on how frantic he’s getting, but all you can do is let out muffled moans into soft cotton. 

“I’ll be good,” Ace whispers against the shell of your ear. His breath is hot and humid and gets you one step closer to an orgasm lighting you on fire. “I’ll make you cum until you can’t worry anymore.” The fingers tweaking your clit and prodding your firming walls give weight to his promise. Your hips are already starting to stiffen and twitch with the oncoming climax. “I’ll keep begging, I’ll worship you, anything you want, just, fuck-” his voice breaks before he can stop it. “Please let me feel you.”

Ace feels like he can’t get enough air; he won’t be able to breathe if you pull away - he’s sure he’ll suffocate without you. His whole body is pulsing and alive with urgency, not just the cock straining against his pants. The only thing that’s keeping him grounded is you. Your pretty moans slipping out, half-covered by the pillow. Your searching hands, grasping and working his body over in search of something to hold on to. Your chest blanketing his own, ebbing and flowing in waves with your heavy breathing pressing into him. Most of all, the slick, plush grip of your cunt around his fingers, singing to him in little wet slaps every time it welcomes his fingers back home.

“Ace, I’m-” you turn your head towards him so he can hear and find him already looking at you. His flush is deep enough to try and hide his freckles and his pupils are blown enough to turn his brown eyes black. His slack jaw lets your breaths mingle. The pressure of his fingers on your clit increases just the slightest bit, but it’s just right to get your body to clamp down and not let go. “I’m so close, gonna cum, please, love-” Ace sobs out a moan at the new pet name and presses the fingers inside you even more insistently “ahhn! Don’t stop, don’t stop, gonna-”

You suck in a greedy breath and it’s trapped in your lungs as your body starts to seize up. The hit of pleasure has you curling as close as you can into Ace, needing to clutch him when the first wave crests heavily. His fingers follow you when you squirm to center fully on top of him, soothing you through the ride with gentle pumps into your twitching walls. You breathe again after a moment, letting out a flurry of praise into Ace’s shoulder. The little shakes of your hips make you rub against his trapped cock and his eyes roll back against his wish to keep watching you. 

The way your pussy clamps down on his fingers is absolute torture. Pressed so close with his eyes shut, he can almost imagine the rhythmic waves of your spasming cunt milking him while he fucks you full of cum. It has him panting along beside you like he was the one who just came. 

You’re easing down from your high, swollen walls settled along his now unmoving fingers. The sound of your panting settles with you and the room starts to still into a cozy calmness. Your muscles feel liquid and uncooperative as you try to adjust into a comfier position. The movement yet again rubs you against Ace and he whimpers at the heavy gush of precum it pulls from him.

With a pained sound, Ace wiggles the hand that had been toying with your clit out from under your hips and past his sensitive cock to draw shapes on your back. The action brings the smell of sex closer up to his face and he can’t help but groan. Fuck, he doesn’t want to push you or bother you, but the high of seeing you cum has passed and left him even more wanting.

“Pretty?” Ace starts softly. He kisses at your temple and you hum in reply. “...please?”

You hum again, only half hearing him between the orgasm taking the wind out of your sails and that wind having only been a small gust in the first place given it was somewhere around the witching hour.

“I still need you,” he urges, pressing his hips up gently for some miniscule relief and to make you understand. He’s scalding hot below you and throbbing into your lower stomach and it starts to bring you some clarity.

“While I’d love to continue, I’m tired,” you sigh. Before he can apologize or take it the wrong way, you continue. “Normally that wouldn’t really be a problem, but I want to be bright eyed and bushy tailed the first time I fuck you.” Even with the casual way you’re talking, Ace sighs happily and pulls you tighter at the idea. Before you can think about how you’re about to contradict your words, your mouth moves and you’re back to riling him. “I’ve thought of our first time together a lot, and I’m going to treat you to much more than some sleepy sex.” He shivers and moves back to mouthing at your neck at the promise. “I want you sitting pretty under me while I show you everything I can do to you.”

“But I’m under you now,” Ace argues.

“You are, and you’re doing so good at the looking pretty thing too,” you sigh in mock defeat. You feel him smile against your neck, both from the praise and from gaining some ground. Gotta get that idea back out of his head. “I don’t wanna leave you hanging, but I want to do more for you the first time you’re inside me.”

Ace doesn’t share that worry. He’s more worried about using his free hand to start guiding your hips in slow circles to feel the motion around the fingers still sitting inside you. It also teases his still leaking cock and makes it painfully easy to imagine the sensation blending so his cock feels the circles and the grip of your cunt. It flutters on his digits and he flexes his hand to feel the twitching muscles better, putting pressure towards your lower stomach. You keen at the burn it sets in your nerves, arching against his hand to feel more. Shoved so snuggly into your body, Ace’s fingers pick up the thump of your racing heart beating behind the walls of your pussy. He’s never needed anything more than he needs to feel it tapping against the racing pulse of his own heart pulsing through his cock.

“Please, pretty, please please ple-hease” he begs again, beyond reason. “What if- what if we don’t fuck? What if you just let me inside you to keep me warm?”

The idea is quite tempting. You kiss at the side of his face, giving yourself time to enjoy the fantasy of cockwarming him. It’s one you’ve come back to many times in your daydreams of him. Still, you want to fuck the sanity out of him the first time he’s inside you.

“Ace, no-”

“Just the tip.” The words are rushed and breathless and broken. “What if it’s just the tip?”

You realize there’s no reasoning with him and you’re losing the want to try. It’s not like you haven’t been wanting to fuck him since lust rode in on the coattails of “wow he’s pretty and so sweet”. He’s not the only one hiding insecurities though, and you frequently fear that if you don’t keep up the trend of blowing his mind with all the physical stuff then he’ll get bored of you. You can’t accept your first time together being anything less than perfect; the very idea fills you with dread, so much so that the potent temptation of Ace writhing and begging and even just his fingers making you feel so fucking good hasn’t shaken it off you.

“I can’t-” Ace swallows hard, “I can’t just keep dreaming about it, please, fuck, pretty, I need you.”

You believe him. You’ve never heard him so lost before in all your times fooling around. He’s prone to his tongue loosening the longer you touch and this is far from the first time he’s pleaded with you, but this felt different. There’s a frantic undertone to his voice and the words spilling from his lips. There’s truth to the emotion turning his grasp into a delicious mix of powerful and trembling. There’s no arguing with the twitching length grinding into your lower stomach - no way you can deny how hard he feels or the heat of it burning against you even through your clothes. It’s enough to make you lose yourself to the thought of getting to clamp down around his firm cock while the length finds places to toy with much deeper than you can reach. You can tell from the shape against you his width would press back at every nerve you’ve got, waking them up and making them sing. 

You come back to reality when he sneaks in a deep thrust of his fingers. The wet sound makes him moan, and the responding clench turns it into a deep, throaty “fuck”. His head flies back as he arches and grinds. You look up from the pillow and see his pretty black waves piling next to the sharp cut of his jaw. The bob of his throat as he swallows matches the jump of his cock. You feel every detail of it and notice he’s leaked enough to soak through his shorts and your shirt, leaving a sticky spot against your skin.

“You make me feel so good,” Ace moans. “I can make you feel good too.”

The fact that he thinks he needs to convince you of that even with his fingers stuffed in you, held tight with how your cunt’s swelled from pleasure, proves he’s very far from rational thought.

“You did,” you promise with a sweet kiss to his neck. “Now it’s your turn.” His head shoots up to give you a hopeful look. “You’ve cum from less, isn’t this enough?” You swirl your hips down against him to illustrate your point.

“It’s not about cumming,” he grumbles, suddenly sounding a bit more coherent and honestly a bit offended. “I wanna be closer.”

That throws you so off guard you just spit out the first thing that comes to mind.

“We could take off our clothes?”

Ace doesn’t give you time to take it back, his hands flying from you and already shoving his shorts down his thighs. He sighs in relief when his cock springs free, and nudges his head into yours mindlessly in relieved affection. Too impatient to finish the task, he stops pushing his shorts while they’re halfway down to instead get his hands under your shirt. You go to finish what he started but get distracted taking handfuls of his waist and thighs. When you thumb at the descending line of his adonis belt, Ace can do nothing but press into your touch, even pausing his mission to get under your clothes.

You lay yourself back on Ace, now trapping his dick between his twitching abs and the soft skin of your stomach and the tease of trimmed hair on your mound. Somewhere in his brain he thinks he should be ashamed of how he’s an absolute mess from something so simple as feeling your skin on his cock. At the moment, the shame is overshadowed by sheer need and awe. This is you - he’s dreamed of this, agonized over it, sat drowning in a mind and body desperate to find a way to get you to look at him, let alone touch him. Even when you started pulling him with you for teasing tastes on top of your shared missions together, all the time between had them feeling fake. Getting to have you feels so foreign and unattainable that his brain writes it off as false memories when you aren’t in his hands. 

And that’s why he holds you all the more tightly when you’re in reach. He needs you cemented in his grip and sunk into every sense so you’re all he knows. No questions, no doubts, no loneliness, no hollowness, just the comfort of you. He gets his lips back on yours before he breaks.

You hook your thumbs into your shorts and underwear but it’s not quick enough for Ace. He grabs them in a tight fistful and yanks. Your spread thighs keep them from getting lower than the end of your ass and Ace whines into your mouth. Trying not to break the kiss, you lean onto your right leg and try to work the other out of your clothing. It’s a clumsy and messy affair, each of you using a hand to tug at the garments while the other is busy trying to feel and hold as much of each other as possible. You lean back to look and finally get the damn thing off and Ace chases you the whole way. Between the hot slide of tongue, the nipping on lips, and the dancing rolls of kiss and grind you manage to get your left leg completely free of clothing.

“Fuck, pretty, how -hhh-ah!- do you do that?” Ace moans breathlessly after you set your hips back on him.

“Do what?” You’re moving your clit up and down his shaft in torturously slow grinds, mind fuzzed with the feeling of your wetness making you glide so smoothly on him.

“Make me -mmnngh!- fuck-” You circle your clit around his sensitive head, turning his speech into a few heaving breaths and groans. “Make me forget everything.”

Your lips are back on his in a rush, too fast for you to get out all the loving words living in you. First it’s as insistent and firm as your hips are working him over. After a long minute though, he’s lost too much breath to do much more than pant and hump into you in a desperate chase to feel more and more. You begin laying quick kisses to his cheek and land one in the shape of a smile on the corner of his open mouth. You feel it curl up under the press of your lips. 

“You m-make me happy,” Ace admits, a twinge of nerves managing to show through all the arousal in his voice. You bump your nose to his gently. 

“You’re my happiness, Ace.”

He whines and screws his eyes shut even more tightly. You feel his cock throb heavily against you. Taking advantage, you change to little circles against him and feel the pressure of it tease at your clit and entrance. A hand snakes into your hair and grips, holding you steady to press your foreheads together. His eyes crack open to search yours for lies. Even in the rush of your grinding bodies, the eye contact is still and sturdy as steel.

“You can’t just say that,” Ace breathes.

You feel how close he is, even harder than before and thrusts getting stilted in an attempt not to cum. You set on that singlemindedly, needing to hear his breathy broken moans, feel him squirm and jerk, shove him straight into a headspace empty of all but bliss. You get your own hand in his hair and tug, earning a moan and more pleads. Busying your mouth with his neck, you begin sliding along his whole length at a quick pace. The burn in your thighs is nothing compared to the pressure building between your hips, getting tighter and brighter with every swipe.

“No, holy shit, so close, s’close -hah hahngg-“ Ace starts babbling, “wanna cum in you, I’ll do anything, I’ll -mnnngh- anything please, fuck, too good, so fucking wet, so -fuck- can’t, please no, no ‘m gonna cum-“

You suck and teethe at the sensitive spot behind his ear and twist your grip in his hair, sure that would throw him over. Instead he lunges forward to sink his teeth into your shoulder and his hands clamp onto your hips to hold them perfectly still. You’re reminded of the power in the man who falls apart for you. It makes you clench and gush against him with a throaty moan. He holds on for dear life through it, tensing and throbbing and leaking and just barely managing to hold off his orgasm.

Once he’s sure he’s relatively safe, he lets go of your shoulder and begins kissing over the slight indents. The gentle touch feels electric on the tender skin. He continues to hold your hips prisoner, imobile against his own. After some deep breaths he pulls back to look at you. 

“I don’t want it to ever stop,” his eyes are shiny and his lips tremble, but not as much as his words. “Please.” That commanding grip lightens. He slides his hands so he can massage his thumbs into the creases where your thighs meet your hips, sending sparks under your skin. “Just a little of you.”

Your resolve finally breaks and you agree. “Just the tip.”

“Thank you,” Ace rushes out. “Remind me to take you out and spoil you.”

You huff out a laugh even though you’re pretty sure he’s serious. 

“As if you don’t try already.” 

You shimmy forward and he rights you into his grip again; getting you on him with as much skin to skin as possible, just where you belong. It makes maneuvering a bit more difficult but neither of you care; you’re too busy enjoying each other’s heat and taste.

“No goofing, just romance.”

His arms encase you while yours frame him, taking time to touch skin and play with his fluffy hair. You’re firmly settled against him, laying with your cunt just in reach of his leaking head. Each breath presses you deeper into each other and lets pressure tease at your breasts. You take a moment to sneak fingers to your sides so you can tweak his nipple. The shocked hiss is one of your favorites. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” You reach back to grab hold of him and give him a few firm strokes, just to hear his pretty gasps. “The gentleman act isn’t as fun without the goofy contrast.”

“It’s not an a-aahhhhhhnn-“ You use your grip on him to circle his head on your entrance and press back just enough for the weeping tip to catch. After drawing out the sensation for a few more breaths, you move to sit up for a better angle to give him a shallow ride, but he stops you.

“Stay.” Even though it’s an order it sounds like a plea. At your confused look he continues, “If you stay like this I won’t be able to start fucking you if I lose myself.”

He feels you clench against his cockhead and it twitches in response, desperate to sink just a little deeper and letting you know with a pressure that hovers just under enough to finally slip into you. He knows “if” was too weak a word; the moment he feels the plush heat of your cunt he’s a goner. He’s had ambition and determination and stubbornness woven through parts of his being since his first breath. Yet they all fail him when he aims them at restraint here. Staring down a warlord was easier than fighting his bone deep desire for you. You just have a way of making him feel so full of life that it circles back around to an endless emptiness unless he’s smothered in your presence. Like any addict, the starting hits were no longer enough and he’d chase bigger and bigger ones til he had the endless high of being always near and always yours. His body being newer to such waves makes it easier for his instincts to take over him when more becomes not enough.

You feel the slick skin of his tip licking at your entrance with each breath you both take, so focused on every little motion you swear you can feel his heartbeat against your cunt. You start pressing back more.

“Wait,” Ace gasps. He plans a hand at the back of your head and turns it to face him. You meet blown pupils in shiny eyes, brows fighting not to pinch, freckles dancing with every word and expression. His warm breath tickles your swollen lips and you can taste its sweetness on your tongue. You want to keep looking around his pretty face but his pleading eyes have you locked in their heat. “Look at me.”

You barely think to give him a shaky nod. 

Ace reaches his other hand down to join yours on his shaft. It slips easily around your grip and holds gently, letting you keep control. Your hand feels so hot between his large one and the beating cock in your palm. Testing his grip, you slowly pump down his shaft, a slick sound from the dripping of your cunt and his precum sliding through your fingers, and make your way back up to the tip with a twisting wrist. His hand trembles around yours and he curses against your lips but he simply follows your movements.

Happy with the reaction, you continue on. He begins sinking in and his brows furrow further. The slow pace lets him feel every bit of texture, every flutter of the muscles of your entrance as they greet him. He’s in enough for you to encase his slit and you both feel the reward of a thick gush of precum spilling right into you. You breath out a syrupy “so good” and Ace fights again not to cum again - it gives him visions of fucking you fast and deep until you’re hiccuping those words and he’s pumping you full for real. He doesn’t want to be hasty though, he might miss a single second of this blissful torture.

His dick is pressed in to a catch, hovered right where his head flares widest. You hold him steady and give a little circle of your hips to feel him play with your stretching entrance.

“-hah- holy o-oh -nnnngh- thank you thank you,” he mumbles and moans between trying to breathe. His eyes roll back and screw shut for a moment before he fights them back open to watch your hazy eyes and slack jaw. He pulls you forward by the hand in your hair to press your foreheads together. Those fingers begin a haphazard massage as they switch between grasping for grounding and petting at you in adoration.

You take in a lungful of his breath and his musk and the ambient sex and shimmy just a little lower. At last, your cunt gives to let the rim of his head pop in, finally warming you from the inside. It immediately has you clench down and you can’t help but moan pathetically at finally having something to clench down on. The burning skin of his cockhead presses back at the twitching walls of your cunt, sending jolts up your spine.

“Y-you -ahh- you’re so-“ Ace is struggling against his scattered mind and an ocean of oxytocin to get you to understand how perfect you are and how his chest is so full it aches and how he’d fight through pirates, marines, the whole world government just to be this close to you again. All that comes out is a grumbling, fervent moan of “warm”.

You clench again at the word and he whimpers. You slip your hand off of his cock and out of his grip before using it to make him hold his cock for you. It gets the sticky mess all over him, which he quickly uses to twist his hand slowly up and down his shaft. You follow the movement for a few pumps then bring your hand up to your faces. You’d wanted a taste but you get a better idea. 

The moment the pads of your fingers touch Ace’s lips, he opens them just a bit wider for you. He can smell the heady mix of you both and his mouth waters eagerly. Slowly and deliberately, you sneak two fingers past his lips and press them on his tongue, his eyes burning into you the whole time. He’s quick to seal his lips and suck, hot tongue roving over your digits to collect every drop. You can hear the wet sound of his working hand get faster. You shove your fingers in to the last knuckle and he swallows them down greedily, moaning the whole time.

It’s impossible to keep yourself still; the fucked out look on Ace’s flushed face and the attention feeding but not sating your cunt make you squirm. All the movement from his jerking, constantly getting faster and firmer, has his cockhead massaging every nerve of your entrance and reverberated through your lips and clit, sinfully delicious yet maddeningly subtle. Your body is begging for him to force his way deep, split you around his thick cock, feel that pounding drag against every inch of your swollen and pulsing pussy. Instead, you have to settle for a slow tilt and pull of your hips, guiding the head sitting heavy in you to press more one way then the next. One particularly hard pump of his hand sends a strong shock to your clit and you grip him with your hands as tightly as your core wrings down around him. A heavy throb of his cock gushes more precum into you. 

Hearing how much he’s struggling to breathe fast enough through his nose, you pull your fingers from his mouth to instead pull at his hair. He’s mumbling out curses and praises between frantic kisses around your lips. The battle to stare into your eyes is becoming lost; Ace’s won’t stop rolling back and fluttering closed and losing focus. You can practically taste how close he is and it sets your whole body alight. You’re sure when he cums you’ll be able to feel the pleasure in your own body.

“Ace,” you call and his eyes crack open to see you again. His lashes are so dark and long and make his eyes look all the darker. “Need to feel you cum.” The words are rushed and urgent, trying to sneak around gasps and moans. “Love, I want you t-to -mnnn!- fuck me full.”

“Fuck!” The word “love” echoes violently around Ace’s head, and he’s so wound up and frayed he’s scared he may actually catch fire. His scramble is immediate - hands flying down to clamp onto your hips, fingers sinking deep into your skin, head thrown back giving you a full view of the flush hiding his freckles, the strong jaw working between going slack and gritting his teeth, but most importantly his hips thrust against his will. A mindless,  ravenous instinct locked in place and told him to rut until neither of you could move, until each thrust wrung more cum from him only to have it gush out of you because how could you possibly hold more?

Unfortunately, Ace had planned ahead. Your precarious alignment lets the first few thrusts sink him just a centimeter deeper, the relief of more of you only matched by the insatiable need to have all of you. Just when he feels the knot of pleasure pull his balls taught and tense his cock hard as a rod, a thrust knocks him loose.

Ace lets out an actual wail as he loses your heat. The bliss of his orgasm gets lost with it, ebbing away quickly and leaving him frantic.

“No fuck I- please I was so close, shit-,” Ace sobs right by your ear where he’s nestled himself close for comfort.

Needing to calm him and missing the feeling of him too terribly, your hand goes back to his cock while you distract him with sloppy open mouthed kisses. You find him easily and try to settle him with a few firm pumps. Ace is relieved as the feeling comes back fast and he’s already tensing and squirming and curling his toes as his orgasm beats to life in his cock again. 

 “That’s it, love,” you encourage. “I’ve got you.”

“Can’t, cumming cummingcumming-“ Ace chants urgently, kicked straight over the edge by your care. You rush to get him back inside you first but his cock’s already kicking in your grip. The first spray of cum lands where your thigh meets your ass and the second splashes over your pussy. By the third you’re pressing him back in. The whole time Ace is moaning high and gasping and pulling you to him like he needs you to breathe. He’s squirming and handsy, back arching off the bed while he takes any handful of you he can get. You feel the heavy pump of his next spurt of cum and fall to instinct yourself. You push your body down his and plop the weight of your hips in his lap, taking him in one swift motion and a heavy slap.

“Yes! Y-ye-nnnghah!- yesss thank you thank you two good so good s’good-“

You grind yourself in a heavy drag, forward and back, relishing having him all the way inside you. He feels thick enough to press your hips wide and long enough to punch at your lungs. Each grind has him play with your insides, lighting every nerve to make you feel like he’s filled you from head to toe. Each grind also has a fresh throb press at your cunt and spurt more sticky cum where his head twitches against your deepest spots. It has an unfamiliar pit swallowing the orgasm that’s nearly formed in your core, filling your nerves with a new life. You pick up the pace, needing more of that deep seated burn you can feel with each rub of him in the pit of your gut.

Ace whines as his sensitive cock has less and less to give yet keeps up its pumping. He’s beside himself, feels completely out of control of his muscles and voice as he grinds and moans and pleads, yet somehow his hands help press your hips harder into his, adding strength to your ride with every push and pull. He’s left slack jawed at the feeling, mouth hung open to let out every humid pant and desperate sound. He can feel your thighs clamp up around his hips, your fingers claw frantically at his chest, your hips begin to shake and jump. Most of all he can feel the coming orgasm sink into the muscles of your cunt as they swell and twitch and begin to clamp down on him like a vice. 

“Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop-“ now you’re chanting to him and he feels a new rush flow through his body. The ending orgasm is replaced with new interest amid the burning haze of overstimulation. Every fiber in him knows that he just needs to make you cum and he’ll know what heaven is like.

Ace sits up quickly to meet you, detouring to mouth over your swaying chest and enjoy a taste of your perked nipples before he gets some space to watch your blissed out face and writhing body. He begins thumbing at your clit while his other hand urges your hips up a few inches. For a moment you keep your hips moving but they freeze when Ace plants the hand that was on them behind him and his feet on the mattress and he starts to fuck up into you. They’re shallow, staccato slaps of his hips into yours, sloppily pushing his cum out of you to make stickier sounds, sending vibrations rattling through the underside of your clit still pressed under his thumb, and it’s exactly everything you ever needed. 

The deep pit his fat cockhead taps at again and again pulls taught until your whole cunt squeezes and then you feel like you burst. A breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a holler of his name and you curl forward to cling to him. You try and ride out the high as it seizes you, shaking through your hips and legs and tightening its fist around your whole core. You don’t remember an orgasm ever massaging through you like this before - pulling heavy waves of clamp and release from your cervix to your entrance, each one making Ace’s cock feel even bigger and the pressure of that cock forcing you to stay open makes you nerves sing and dance tingles through your clit and up your spine and under your skin. 

You’re not the only one stuck at it’s mercy; Ace’s head is empty of all but the way the sensation ravages through his nervous system, taking his body from him and commanding it to hold you closer, harder, to fuck you faster, firmer. He knows his mouth is moving, but he’s not sure what it’s saying. His head is full of curses and wonder and “thank you”s and “love you”s but he has no clue what’s making it past. The only things he seems to hear are the roaring of his blood in his ears and the stream of praise tumbling from your lips. You gasp out, “Ace! Fuck, you’re so -hahn- perfect”, and he sears it in his brain forever. The way you pray your pleasure to him, bleed his name and “love” together as if they’re the same thing, it has his head spinning and his heart swelling and cock burning.

The pulses of your high get further apart so you force will into your legs and bounce with Ace to chase them. After a few though, his feet slip out straight and both hands are back on your hips to guide your thrusts and hold you tight. He’s kissing down the side of your face then hiding himself in the crook of your neck, where he can switch between kissing the taste of salt off your skin and huffing in lungfuls of the scent of your hair and skin and sweat and sex. He can taste his bliss on every moan he chokes out, can feel it throb closer with every clap of your hips he just clap needs a little more, needs the way clap your fingers tug his hair clap yes just like that and clap fuck, the way your pussy clap sucks him in clap so so close, just-

“Fuck, Ace, can’t breathe -hahnngh- too much, don’t let it stop -ah!- please, need you-“ 

He whimpers and crushes you in his hold, forcing you to sit still with him pressed as deep as he can go so he can feel every inch of you while he cums again. The first wave hits and he surges forward when his abs clamp tight, knees pulling up behind you to fully surround you. 

“Again?” You manage to gasp against his cheek.

“Yes,” he whines, “you’re just- fuck, fuck!”

It’s near painful to cum so hard so quickly after the last. His head is murky and floating at the strange sensation of the orgasm tearing through his muscles to make him grind and pump into you without having anything to gush out. Your body still seems happy enough with the offering though, completely in sync to milk out everything he could possibly give. 

It’s the perfect end to your high to be in your body enough to take in every bit of his high moans and mumbling and feel every bit of touch his instincts have him showering over you. He keeps nosing at your neck for comfort and tickling the sensitive skin there with kisses and words spoken right against your skin. His hands are deeply kneading the flesh of your hips, petting in trembling fingers and always pulling to keep your hips flush to his. His abs tense and jump, both with his stuttering breath and with the strong pulls of his dick every time it tries to force more out of him in a soul-deep need to fill you with him until he’s a permanent piece of you. His thighs are doing much the same, jostling you slightly against him from how he’s curled around you. Yes, this is exactly what you needed to cap your high and ease you back into reality. Especially with that deep voice of his showing off its range.

“Thank you, thank -nnngh- you, wanna be this close forever -ahhh- never -mm!- stop feeling you, love this, l-love y-y-hah!”

You guide him the whole time, petting his hair, kissing his temple, teasing his skin with your nails, and holding his back. The way he clings to you sets you ablaze but also lets you know how desperately he needs to feel held. His firm hold and your returning squeezes are the anchor that secures you both through the torrent and the drop from sharing bodies. Because of the affection, that drop is a landing in pure comfort and relaxation. Your muscles are all becoming liquid and you simply melt into each other and breathe. 

Ace may have never finished that thought out loud, but he continued it in the affection of his lips pressing so tenderly to your heated skin. He made it clear in the reverence of his hold on you, full of trailing fingertips worshipping your shape and gentle squeezes closer with warm and supportive palms. You understood from the cozy sway he set while drawing his temple up the side of your face to then skim the tip of his nose over your cheek and rest your foreheads together then find stillness. All the words he didn’t say came through in your shared breaths, which grew from humid puffs to a slow and smooth rhythm.

Just in case you missed the rest, he brushed his lips across yours, light enough to tickle before easing forward to mold them together. Your lips part to taste him once more and he indulges you, happily slipping his tongue between your lips for another dance. It’s unhurried how you kiss, lips firm and sure in how they press and drag together, tongues brushing slowly not to arouse but to simply enjoy. The slick sounds of the deep kisses ring in your ears in the quiet room along with the hushes of breath slipping between you two. Ace pulls in one particularly deep breath through his nose before breaking the kiss to sigh his happiness out. The whole thing is punctuated by one last sweet peck.

“I feel it too, Ace,” you promise.

His voice is thick when he whispers out once more, “Thank you.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and press a smile to his skin. Ace tilts his head just so to rest it on yours and closes his eyes to simply be. You’re not sure how long you stay sat in his lap holding him. Instead of the tick of a clock you have the swell of his breaths and the brush of his thumb. Now and again he’d start and leave a subtle sway or press kisses to your hair or squeeze you just a little tighter. You’d respond to it all in kind but his favorite was when he could feel a smile press your cheek into his collarbone or when you’d rest your hand over his pec just to better feel his heartbeat. 

Unfortunately, soreness begins to set in your hips and you have to move. Ace isn’t a big fan of the idea; you can tell from his grumble and his arms cinching around your waist. It's endearing, but no match for the protest in your joints.

“Ace, I’m sore,” you laugh out the complaint, too amused by his pouting. “Let’s lay down.”

“That I can agree to,” he says.

You doubt his words when you start to get off him and receive an indignant “hey”. 

“Who said you were allowed to get off?”

“Pretty sure I was just letting us both get off.”

“I helped,” he pouts.

“That’s an understatement,” you reassure with two quick pats to his cheek. “But for real, I gotta get off so we can get settled.”

“Agree to disagree,” Ace chimes with that maddeningly bright and charming smile of his. It crinkles his nose a moment and scrunches his eyes in a way that brings out their glimmer and you’re sure you’d never be able to say no to that face for long.

“Okay,” you sigh. “How are we going to do this?”

“Clumsily,” he answers without missing a beat and you laugh again.

“Okay, Commander, take the reins,” you say as you settle back into laying against him, happy to let him take over this clown show.

“Ooooo ‘commander’, huh? Wanna try calling me that next time?”

Instead of responding you give his back a half-hearted swat.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he reasons.

“I’m filing it away for later, but please Ace my poor hips. You’re gonna make me an old lady in my twenties,” you whine.

“At least you make a cute granny.” You can hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

“Move!” You laugh and he finally does.

He scoots you both back once, holding you tight through it while you giggle at the bumpy ride. Now back to the center of the bed, he shimmies for good measure and lays himself back. He holds his arms out expectantly and you just raise a brow at him.

“You’re gonna slip out.”

“I believe in you,” he says. He tried to be deadpan but his lips couldn’t resist the smile.

“There’s your first mistake,” you say and he just smiles wider.

You shift to the right so you can rotate your left leg out and down. You lean your weight on his chest for balance, a palm flat on each large pec, and slide your leg down and back right next to his. You shiver at the release in your joint and Ace shivers at the pressure on his chest and the jostle of your hips. His softened dick twitches in interest.

“Stop that, we need to sleep,” you reprimand with no real heat.

“I didn’t tell it to do that,” Ace deflects.

You chuckle and continue repositioning, leaning to the left this time. It feels just as nice when your right leg gets to be straight again and you can finally lay down. It feels a little strange to be lying directly on Ace’s middle instead of tucked to his side or spooning but it’s not unwelcome. It’s definitely not a permanent feature, though, and you tell him as much.

“Just for a while,” Ace promises. Much softer he adds, “Not ready yet.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Taking stock of your body, you feel a pleasant exhaustion and let it help you sink further into Ace. His hands rest gently on your back, one spread between your shoulder blades and one drawing shapes over your lower back. His thighs are so warm next to yours and the packed muscle feels so soft when he’s relaxed like this. The same goes for the pec currently being used as your pillow. Okay, maybe you could stay this way quite awhile; Ace is unfairly warm and comfortable and having him sit still half in you sates some instinct you didn’t know you had. 

“Blanket?” Ace asks.

“Dealer’s choice,” is your non-committal response.

With some reaching and finagling, Ace manages to get a hold of the sheets and flap them to lay over you. He leaves them so that they cover your legs but make it no further than the small of your back. It lets the slight chill of the room continue to cool you off without going so far as to make you cold. It’s absolutely perfect with his high body temperature radiating below you. Yeah, you’re pretty sure you could drift off into some of the best sleep of your life just like this.

A thought strikes you. 

“How did you stay hard that whole time?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly through a yawn. Then he chuckles and adds, “maybe you just have a magic pussy.”

You laugh at the stupid joke, happy he’s relaxed enough in your relationship to joke more about sex now.

“Too bad you can’t go around testing that theory,” you sigh in mock sympathy.

Ace perks up and stares at you real strong. His eyes that were just fighting sleep are now full of life. You don’t say more and just let him look and stew on your words.

“Say it again but like I’m stupid?”

“That’s what I usually try to do.”

He barks a laugh.

“Damn, must be hard loving an idiot.”

“Not at all.” The tenderness that seeps from your words melts him straight through. Thinking better of leaving it (you know he knows you’re joking, but you also know that his mind is exceptionally cruel), you use the last of your energy to get up on your elbows and look him in the eyes. “You’re a dumbass sometimes, especially with those brothers of yours, but more than that you’re really smart.” You place a sweet kiss to his forehead. “And you’re strong and determined and reliable.” A kiss to one cheek. “And empathetic and sweet and thoughtful.” A kiss to the other one. “And you wanna know what you are more than anything else?”

“What?” His voice shakes and his eyes burn and he’s so exhausted from all the emotions of the night but they’ve also been the most precious things ever. 

You rest your forehead to his and take a deep breath, savoring the moment.

“You’re very very easy to love.”

A kiss binds your words and lips.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed 🥰 Please let me know if you did and criticisms are also welcome 🤍

Restarting tag list because Overthinking lol please lmk if you want to be on one! Even if you think it's obvious. I am: Stupid and Anxious 💀

Between Two Points Masterlist

Masterlist

[cozmowrites]

Hidden Among the Shadows

arranged marriage au

====

The faint hum of the heater filled the spacious living room of the apartment. It was modern but lacked warmth, much like its current occupants. Bakugou Katsuki sat at the far end of the couch, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the wall as though it had personally offended him.

You sat across from him, perched on the edge of an armchair, hands folded neatly in your lap. The silence between you stretched thin, so taut it felt like it might snap at any moment.

Your eyes darted to the steaming cup of tea on the coffee table. You'd made it for him as soon as you arrived, desperate to do something to ease the tension. But he hadn't touched it.

"I..." You started, voice soft and barely above a whisper. You felt your cheeks heat up as his crimson eyes flicked toward you, sharp and unyielding. "I'm sorry if the tea isn't to your liking."

Bakugou's eyebrow twitched. "What the hell are you apologizing for?"

You flinched slightly at his tone, your fingers clutching the fabric of your skirt. "I— I just... thought—"

"Stop," he cut you off, leaning forward with a sigh of frustration. "You didn't do anything wrong, so quit saying sorry for every little thing. It's annoying."

Your gaze dropped to your lap, and you nodded quickly. "S-sorry..."

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "This is gonna be a pain in the ass."

You bit the inside of your cheek, the words stinging even though you had expected them. You knew Bakugou wasn't thrilled about this arrangement—neither were you, if you were honest with yourself. But this was the hand you'd been dealt.

Your families had decided this was for the best. A strategic alliance, they called it. Your quirk, Umbra Manipulation, allowed you to control and solidify shadows, an ability that paired well with Bakugou's explosive quirk. Together, they said, you'd have powerful children. You thought quirk marriages were old fashion, but your parents didn't care.

Not that you had any desire to become a hero. You weren't like Bakugou—confident, brash, and full of fire. You preferred the quiet, the background, where you could avoid conflict and simply exist.

But that wasn't an option anymore.

"Hey." His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to find him staring at you, a scowl etched into his face. "You always this quiet?"

You hesitated, unsure if he wanted an answer or if the question was rhetorical. When his eyes narrowed, you quickly nodded. "Y-yes."

"Tch. Great," he muttered, leaning back against the couch. "This is gonna be real fun."

You shifted uncomfortably, the urge to apologize bubbling up again, but you bit it back. Instead, you tried to focus on the room around you. The apartment was clearly his, with minimal decorations and a stark, utilitarian design. Simple, modern. The only personal touch was a shelf lined with All Might memorabilia that you'd think would be kept in his room.

"You don't like talking much, huh?" Bakugou asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You shook your head, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. "Not really..."

"Figures." He crossed his arms, his gaze scrutinizing you. "You better speak up when it matters, though. I'm not dragging dead weight around if we're working together."

The implication made your stomach twist. "I'll... try my best."

"Try?" His voice rose, and you flinched. "There's no try when it comes to this kind of shit. You either pull your weight, or you're useless."

His words hit like a punch to the gut, but you nodded meekly. "I... I understand."

He clicked his tongue in irritation, running a hand through his spiky blonde hair. "Whatever. Just don't get in my way."

The conversation lapsed into silence again, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him. The weight of his presence was suffocating, like a storm cloud ready to burst at any moment.

"I... I can cook dinner," you offered hesitantly, desperate to fill the void. "If you'd like..."

He glanced at you, skepticism written all over his face. "You can cook?"

You nodded quickly. "Y-yes. I... I've been told I'm pretty good at it."

He huffed, leaning back against the couch. "Fine. Knock yourself out."

Relieved to have a task, you stood and made your way to the kitchen. It was as sleek and modern as the rest of the apartment, with shiny appliances that looked like they'd barely been used. You began gathering ingredients, thankful for something to focus on other than Bakugou's piercing gaze.

As you worked, you felt his eyes on you, though he said nothing. You tried to ignore the pressure, concentrating on chopping vegetables and stirring the pot. The rhythmic motion was calming, a small refuge in the storm.

"Smells decent," he commented after a while, his tone begrudging.

Your lips twitched. You weren't sure how to feel so you just nodded. "Thank you..."

When dinner was ready, you set the table and placed the dishes down carefully. Bakugou joined you, eyeing the food with suspicion before taking a bite.

He didn't say anything, but the fact that he kept eating was enough to ease some of your nerves.

"This is good," he admitted gruffly, barely looking at you.

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. "R-really?"

"Don't make a big deal out of it," he snapped, but his tone lacked its usual bite.

You nodded quickly. For the first time that day, the tension in the room seemed to ease, just a fraction.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

(Edit: A continuation of this IS a fic.)

(Link to the Wattpad of this fic: https://www.wattpad.com/story/386015240?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=lotusdotpng )

(Link to the AO3 of this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62753884/chapters/160653781 )

[ficandkaboodle]

I'm still on that "Secondo and Terzo are reflections of each other" train. It runs long hours. This hour, I'm thinking about how, when left to their devices, Secondo seeks out the company of others while Terzo flees from it. The irony especially potent when you consider cases like how they treat their ghouls: Secondo is a dick, second only to Primo, whereas the ghouls like Terzo. (Granted, it's probably because he's barely around them off-stage enough to be a dick, and they probably just see his activities as an improvement to his predecessors but still.)

Where Secondo takes out his anger in public but otherwise clings to the presence of a private audience, Terzo likely festers in his own anger in private while striving to perform for the public. And considering the implications of what they had to give up, it makes perfect sense: Secondo wanted to live a life of indulgence on his own terms and without a higher (mortal) power breathing down his neck, and privacy is one of the only places he can do that. And the only way to draw people into that privacy? By flashing his status, whatever money he (lbr, the Ministry) has or what connections he might have.

He is a bon vivant at his core, desperate for a way to distract himself from how disappointing things are.

Terzo, for lack of better wording, wanted Meliora, or a pursuit of something better; he wanted a better world, tailored by the blueprint of his (and Necropolitus's) vision. But the closest he will ever get to that is by inspiring others, and the stages provided by the Ghost Project, however limiting, are really the only ways he can do that now. He plays the part of the bon vivant but at his own core, he faces his disappointments in private.

Almost like a self-punishment in my opinion. That, and who could ever follow a failure if they knew what he thought or felt or what he really was? He has to keep up the image, however exhausting. That's probably where the "hatred" that's not really hatred comes from; it's really no more hateful than the average introvert's, I dare suggest.

Lemme stop I feel like I'm blabbering but man this makes so much sense in my head, I just suck at translating --

[lord-squiggletits]

The other day I saw something that actually made the fandom's complete lack of acknowledgement towards Megatron grooming/brainwashing Tarn make a lot of sense, which was essentially a comment that implied something along the lines of 'Tarn made himself worse.'

Which like, I guess makes sense as a justification? If you just write off Dying of the Light and Tarn's entire existence as him just "choosing" to be "worse" I guess it's easy to just blame Tarn and coddle Megatron as the victim of the whole thing.

As opposed to the actual truth of canon which is that Tarn was not always Tarn, Tarn used to be Damus, Damus was nothing like Tarn at all, and it was Megatron's direct, malicious, targeted intervention that took Damus (normal guy) and made him into Tarn (zealot freak). And that the DJD wasn't Tarn's creation, it was Megatron's creation, because Megatron not only wrote the DJD rulebook but also directly trained them (at least the initial members of the DJD, including Tarn) to be brutal, sadistic killers. And that Tarn's mental breakdown in Dying of the Light and subsequent deathhunt on Megatron was just Tarn continuing to fulfill the role Megatron assigned to him, which was to hunt down traitors to the Decepticon cause and make them pay in pain and death. In other words, that Tarn was literally carrying out the exact purpose that Megatron groomed him for, in service to the ideology that Megatron shaped to be centered entirely around ruthlessness, cruelty, and subjugation. And that everything Tarn did as an evil person was merely a logical extension of the ideology Megatron brainwashed him into carrying out, not him randomly deciding to "make himself worse" one day bc he was angy at his daddy.

But sure. I guess, from a certain, very zoomed in and granular perspective, Tarn is evil because he just chose to be that way and no one could've possibly predicted him turning on his master who reshaped his entire life to serve his will and then abandoned him. It's not like Megatron radicalized him for no reason and then built him to be a ticking time bomb or anything. No, Tarn just... decided to make himself worse. One day, for no reason at all. Mmmkay.

[diamondcitydarlin]

'but but but male friendship and platonic intimacy are important toooo!!!'

Okay I'm sorry I've been hearing this over and over and over again through the years, it seems to be go-to response of creators/writers/actors/apologists every fucking time a possible queer M/M pairing is shafted to the side and I'm getting so tired of it.

First of all, like I've also been saying SO MANY TIMES through the years, the depiction of platonic male friendship and intimacy in media really isn't some kind of uncharted waters situation like all these people want us to believe. I would GUESS that platonic male friendship and comradery makes up at least 75% (if not more) of media created since films first started being made and that really says nothing of all the literature that preceded. Hell, 'buddy cop comedy' is a genre all unto itself and usually depicts two straight men in the main roles (not always, but when it's anything other than two straight guys it's generally seen as a subversion of the genre). I'm not saying that platonic male friendship doesn't have it's place in media and needs to be done away with wholesale and all fictional male friends now need to fuck and date each other, I'm not saying that it isn't important to show platonic queer male friend characters (more on this in a moment), I'm just saying I'm tired of people acting like 'platonic male friendship' is some kind of underrepresented, underappreciated thing in media every time someone doesn't want to write a queer M/M dynamic when you could literally select any film made between 1920 and now at random and there would be at least a 7/10 chance it depicted two or more men as platonic hetero friends as the emotional crux of the plot. Like please stop gaslighting us and just say you didn't want to write the thing, this is so stupid.

Second of all, (and this is what really gets me) most of these pieces of media that have ended up pulling the 'BUT PLATONIC QUEER FRIENDSHIP' card already fucking have male and even queer male characters as friends in the cast, outside of the relationship in question or, at the very least, have the potential to depict that with many other characters in the cast. Since I'm primarily reacting to Shadows here, I'll use that as a perfect example; both Guillermo and Nandor are friends with several other male characters in the cast, both peripheral and main. If platonic male friendship and intimacy is so important, then what about these dynamics? What about Guillermo and Laszlo's weird blossoming friendship in season 4? What about whatever it is Colin and Laszlo have going on? What about Nandor and Laszlo (though ig they fuck so maybe they don't count bc remember, sex between men is either gross or funny and meaningless)? SEAN AND LAZSLO?? What about Guillermo and Derek? (REMEMBER HIM??) Hell, what about Guillermo's friend from the orgy who ends up topping the vampire, both of whom we literally never hear of again?? Why are Nandor and Guillermo suddenly the load-bearing 'platonic male friendship' of the show when there were many, many, many, many other opportunities to depict that both with and without them? Suddenly at the eleventh hour when it was time to commit or quit to the Nandermo slowburn, 'platonic male friendship' is just so important you guys??? The math ain't mathing. ANOTHER example of this actually done well WHILE FEATURING A CANONICALLY QUEER COUPLE was Our Flag Means Death. Stede and Ed had their romance, but there were also complex queer platonic friendships and dynamics between them and the rest of the cast and the cast among themselves. So, OBVIOUSLY, we can have our cake and eat it too here, can't we? CAN'T WE??

Thirdly, it is undeniable to me that there is an element of homophobia to this argument, as whenever the 'what about platonic male friendship' comes up it's usually accompanied by the implication that IF these two male characters were to be romantic and/or sexual with each other that would somehow diminish their bond. There's always an implication that them being platonic and sexless is somehow 'purer' and we should be grateful for it, and anyone who might have seen potential for and/or wanted to see something sexual and/or romantic between them is a weirdo gross pervert, which rounds us back to the very conservative concept that sex/romantic intimacy in general is just ew icky gross, inherently impure, especially (for some reason) when it could happen between queer characters. (Which, as others have pointed out, is a weird stance to try to take for the show that had NO PROBLEM showing Laszlo, Nadja-ghost and his friend he just finished raising like a son having sex with each other as a joke- that's totally fine and hilarious, but heaven forbid Guillermo and Nandor should share a chaste kiss or something)

Anyway, the point of this ramble-rant being, I REALLY wish people on these shows would just say 'We didn't want to do that' when it comes to a potential M/M queer pairing rather than trying to take some kind of moral soap-box stance about the inherent purity of sexless, platonic male friendships (especially when the show in question had opportunity after opportunity to explore that with several different characters). It's not only gaslighting an audience of people who are WELL AWARE of what media has consisted of over the past 100 years, it also comes with the implication that romantic/sexual intimacy between men is always way ickier than the alternative AND that anyone who felt it could have happened or wanted to see it happen is gross and weird. It's rude, it's demeaning and wholly unnecessary. Just say you didn't want to write it and go, thanks!

[iamthedukeofurl]

Scott Pilgrim is, I think, the best example I can think of for establishing a setting's Nonsense Limit. The setting's Nonsense Limit isn't quite "How high-fantasy is this". It's mostly a question of presentation, to what degree does the audience feel that they know the rules the world operates by, such that they are primed to accept a random new element being introduced. A setting with a Nonsense Limit of 0 is, like, an everyday story. Something larger than life, but theoretically taking place in our world, like your standard spy thriller action movie has a limit of 1. Some sort of hidden world urban fantasy with wizards and stuff operating in secret has a nonsense limit around 3 or 4. A Superhero setting, presenting an alternate version of our world, is a 5 or 6. High fantasy comes in around a 7 or so, "Oh yeah, Wizards exist and they can do crazy stuff" is pretty commonly accepted. Scott Pilgrim comes in at a 10. If you read the Scott Pilgrim book, it starts off looking like a purely mundane slice of life. The first hint at the fantastical is Ramona appearing repeatedly in Scott's Dreams, and then later showing up in real life. When we finally get an explanation, it's this:

Apparently Subspace Highways are a thing? And they go through people's heads? And Ramona treats this like it's obscure, but not secret knowledge. Ramona doesn't think she's doing anything weird here. At this point, it's not clear if Scott is accepting Ramona's explanation or not, things kind of move on as mundane as ever until their Date, when Ramona takes Scott through subspace, and he doesn't act like his world was just blown open or anything, although I guess that could have been a metaphor. there's a couple other moments, but everything with Ramona could be a metaphor, or Scott not recognizing what's going on. Maybe Ramona is uniquely fantastical in this otherwise normal world. And then, this happens

Suddenly, a fantastical element (A shitty local indie band finishing their set with a song that knocks out most of the audience) is introduced unrelated to Ramona, and undeniably literal. We see the crowd knocked out by Crash and The Boys. but the story doesn't linger on the implications of that, the whole point of that sequence is to raise the Nonsense Level, such that you accept it when This happens

Matthew Patel comes flying down onto the stage, Scott, who until this point is presented as a terrible person and a loser, but otherwise is extremely ordinary, proceeds to flawlessly block and counter him before doing a 64-hit air juggle combo. Scott's friends treat this like Scott is showing off a mildly interesting party trick, like being really good at darts. The establish that Scott is the "Best Fighter in the Province", not only are street-fighter battles a thing, Scott is Very Good at it, but they're so unimportant that being the best fighter in the province doesn't make Scott NOT a loser. So when Matthew Patel shows off his magic powers and then explodes into a pile of coins, we've established "Oh, this is how silly the setting gets". It's not about establishing the RULES of the setting so much as it is about establishing a lack of rules. Scott's skill at street-fighter battles doesn't translate to any sort of social prestige. Ramona can access Subspace Highways and she uses it to do a basic delivery job. It doesn't make sense and it's clear that it's not supposed to. So later on, when Todd Ingram starts throwing around telekinesis, and the explanation we're given is "He's a Vegan" , you're already so primed by the mixture of weirdness and mundanity that rather than trying to incorporate this new knowledge into any sort of coherent setting ruleset, you just go "Ah, yeah, Vegans".

[457gf]

the salesman yandere alphabet.

₊˚ʚ warnings : gun usage, physical abuse, implications of murder, manipulation, the salesman is so bad at consent and doesn't really care about it, salesman being a sociopath / having aspd, reader being referred to as 'pet', implications of suicide

꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ✦ Affection how do they show their love and affection? how intense would it get?

⟢ the salesman loves to show his affection for you, and if you're not a fan of pda, that's unfortunate for you. he's absolutely head over heels for you, and has been since he first saw you at that shitty station, head in your hands as you tried to cover your sniffles out of pure embarrassment of being in a public setting. when you finally looked up, catching eye contact together, you quickly tried to wipe your tears, hands shaking as you tried to ignore his staring gaze. you looked so pretty with tears streaming down your face, your nose red and eyes all puffy. he wasn't sure what had happened, but he decided from that moment on, he'd be the only one to make you cry.

he'd stalk you until he physically couldn't take the distance anymore and needed to be close to you and actually talk to you. his camera roll is full of nothing but photos of you in your home, out in public from afar, and even close up photos of your sleeping face. how'd he get in your room? don't worry about it. just don't remember to properly lock your window at night, or there will be a problem between you two. you don't want him thinking you don't love him, do you?

✦ Blood how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

⟢ the salesman loves to get bloody. it's his absolute favorite. he loves to dip his finger in the dripping puddle of blood, bringing it to his lips and tasting the iron flavor. there's nothing he wouldn't do for you, and that includes forcing whoever was behind you crying during your first meet to engage in one of his deadly games. he doesn’t necessarily like cheating, but he’d find a way to make sure they lost.

✦ Darling

aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? ⟢ he loves to give you affection, even when you’re telling him to get off. he thinks you’re just being hard to get, and he adores it. he’ll cup your cheeks in his palms, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips even if you push him away. he knows you’ll finally show your undying love him one day.

✦ Exposed how much of their heart do they bare to their darling? how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

⟢ he exposes what he can to you, though he’s not a big fan of being too vulnerable. you’re the only one that can truly make him feel certain emotions, which is quite unusual for him. he wouldn’t admit it, but part of the reason he’s so obsessed with you is because of what you do to his usually unwavering heart. he wants to pick you apart, and see why you’re so different from the rest.

✦ Fight how would they feel if their darling fought back?

⟢ he absolutely loves watching you try to fight back, because you both know there's absolutely no chance of you overpowering him. it just gives him an ego boost watching you cry and beg for him to let you go because you don't want to be here anymore. 'what a silly lie you're telling!', he thinks to himself. you want to be here. you love him. and he loves you!

✦ Game is this a game to them? how much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

⟢ the salesman absolutely loves watching you try to escape, as previously said. though he loves his games, he doesn’t view his love for you as one.

✦ Hell what would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

⟢ his relentless touch even if you’re uncomfortable. he doesn’t know when to stop, because he’s never been told no. as a kid, he was always given what he wanted and nothing but, in hopes of him showing a change of heart. but it never happened, which is a big reason for his lack of morals.

✦ Ideals what kind of future do they have in mind for / with their darling?

⟢ he really really wants to get married and have a future with you. he believes that if you’re there long enough, you truly will fall in love with him. he thinks that you’d be perfect to bear his offspring.

✦ Jealousy do they get jealous? do they lash out or find a way to cope?

⟢ he is absolutely one to get jealous. he knows that he’s much better then anyone you’ve ever come into contact with, so his feelings of jealousy are more so that they don’t even deserve to glance in your direction. though he only allows you outside occasionally, what you wear is completely up to him. a dress? nope. not gonna work. he’s the only one allowed to ogle your pretty body.

✦ Kisses how do they act around or with their darling?

⟢ the salesman is so affectionate with you, he absolutely loves cuddling up with you whilst you’re tied up, unable to move. he loves to give you kisses everywhere, even if you’re objecting to his advances. he loves to treat you like everything is completely normal, that you’re just a happy married couple. he’ll make you two breakfast, force you to sit on the sofa and watch stupid romcoms with him, and even rant to you about work as if you’re concerned about his troubles.. you are.. aren’t you? you love him, right?

✦ Love Letters how would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

⟢ after stalking you, learning your schedule, your likes, your dislikes, he’ll pretend to bump into you, starting up a conversation about something you’re into. if he’s being honest, he couldn’t really care less about it. though the smile on your face does make it worth it. he slowly tries to worm his way into your life, and after awhile, he figures that now is the perfect time to finally make you his. keeping you captive in his basement was a pretty good plan if he says so himself! (he does).

✦ Mask are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

⟢ it's no surprise that many people find the behavior of the salesman to be quite.. weird. his personality changes are drastic, and it truly just depends on how he's feeling. it's apart of the job, after all. though, when most people see him walking the street, a clean put together man, they wouldn't suspect him of having a tied up girl at home. hey, if it helps, he loves you very much! a special kind of 'love' that nobody else gets to see from him.

✦ Naughty how would they punish their darling?

⟢ he’s one to get physical, though he’s not too big of a fan, believe it or not. a slap or two to get you “under control”, or a threat to put a bullet through your head, or even his to guilt you.

✦ Oppression how many rights would they take away from their darling?

⟢ the salesman is used to treating people as if they’re lesser then him, and that strays no different from you. he does believe you’re better then other people, but he truly believes that you were created and put on this earth just for him. in his eyes, he has full control over you. every now and then, he allows you to go outside, though trying to escape would be unwise. he’s always got an arm thrown around your shoulder, and his signature grin as he nods at people walking by. they’re disgusting, he thinks, but at least he can show off his pretty pet. you need his direct permission before you do most things, and if you break that rule, you could expect a slap or two.

✦ Patience how patient are they with their darling?

⟢ he does his best to be patient with you, though he does wear thin sometimes. when he’s stressed, he’s not the best to be around.

✦ Quit if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

⟢ “and lately i’ve tried other things, but nothing can capture the sting.” is his mindset. he feels that the thrills in his games aren’t as exciting, the risks hardly existent for all he cares. if you died, he’d either ramp up the stakes to give him a higher chance of being with you, or simply take his anger out on everyone else.

if you left or escaped, there’s truly nothing that he wouldn’t do to find you. keep in mind, due to his work, he’s got loads of contacts all throughout the city. there’s not many places you can run without being found by him.

✦ Regret would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? would they ever let their darling go?

⟢ the salesman wouldn’t feel regret for abducting you. infact, he thinks that you should be grateful for him saving you from your boring life. he wouldn’t let you go.

✦ Stigma what brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

⟢ ever since he was younger, he'd felt different from others. there were no emotions when a relative or someone he knew had passed away. he didn't grieve, he didn't mourn, he hardly even thought about it. the absence of emotions left people feeling uncomfortable around him, but he didn't mind. it's wasn't that he just didn't care about people's emotions, he just simply couldn't find himself to. his mother was always concerned, but it didn't bother him at all. in his eyes, this was normal and all that he'd known. there was nothing wrong with the way he was.

getting an invitation to be apart of the games as a guard was something he didn't expect, though it wasn't unwelcomed. working his way through the ranks, he got more intoxicated with power. being given a gun, holding the lives of people in his very hand, watching as they fell to their knees, begging to be spared, only to be met with a bullet piercing through their skin without any second thoughts whatsoever. it made him feel so strong, like he truly mattered in this world. he was doing good. he was getting rid of the worthless vermin that no longer served use to society. he was the one who decided who lived and died. it became an addiction.

his breaking point was when he was forced to hold a gun to his fathers forehead, feeling no guilt, regret, or uncertainty.

yeah. this was the job for him.

✦ Vice what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

⟢ feeding into his want of being loved would be a good way to try and escape. though it’s basic, getting him to trust your love and affection for him would allow him to loosen up more, giving you more freedom. he’d allow you to roam more, even trusting you to pick up sharp objects now for cooking or other activities. he still will keep the door tightly locked and guarded, though there might be other ways to escape..

✦ Wits End would they ever hurt their darling?

⟢ he wouldn’t do anything permanant to you. he has truthfully thought about it a few times when in fits of rage, but hasn’t acted upon it.

✦ Xoanon how much would they revere or worship their darling? to what length would they go to win their darling over?

⟢ you’re truly the only human that has ever made him feel his own fucked up version of love, so he adores you for that. there’s no doubt in his mind that you two don’t belong together. there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for your affection, even if it’s you slapping his face or kicking at him. to him, it’s all perfect.

✦ Yearn how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

⟢ probably a good few months. when he sees that you’re hanging around a certain man more often, touching him by even the slightest brush, and even just smiling in his direction, he snaps and decides it’s finally time for him to intervene.

✦ Zenith would they ever break their darling?

⟢ up to you, my darling reader. <3

[thoughtssvt]

nanami kento had one condition when it came to fucking you.

he was to always see your face.

cw : gn!reader (no detailed depictions or implications to readers genitalia), mix of dynamics (soft and gentle to rough), cum eating, oral sex (reader receiving), squirting

missionary was always good. he liked touching as much of your body as he could with his. he loved keeping you close, putting almost all his weight on you as if to say i'm here. he'd cup your cheek, keep you from pressing the back of your head too far into the mattress that he wouldn't be able to watch your blissed out face. always swallowing your moans because, god, he had to taste you. his tongue always yearning for both sets of lips.

having you on top awakened something primal in his chest. the way you'd struggle to stay upright with the force of his strokes like it was actually his goal to throw you off. the only down side to this position were the moments you would throw your head back. he loved the idea that he was fucking you into a blissful arch, he wouldn't trade it for the world. "play with those pretty nipples, darling." he'd command through gruff pants, jaw slack as he examined the way your brows would knit tight. your body naturally curling forward as your hips began moving with his until you were forced to plant your hands on his chest.

on rare occasions your schedules refused to line up he was happy to take advantage of the sliver of time you actually had together under a weak veil of efficiency. the mornings when you were half naked in front of the sink, dutifully brushing your teeth as he stepped out of the shower. he couldn't help the way his arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you close, taking in your scent. he'd ignore your incredulous expression as he began kissing your neck, rough fingers running under the waistband of your underwear. "just keep doing what you're doing. don't mind me." you never really knew how you'd get from one point to the next on mornings like these. toothpaste suddenly running down your chin as he pumped into you from behind. a firm arm keeping you upright, your chin fitted between his thumb and forefinger as he compelled you to watch. watch how good he made you feel. how good you look while he does. it's one of his favorite sights if not number one. his voice drawing your focus no matter how much you wanted to roll your eyes back as he lifted your leg up onto the sink's expanse, hammering into you impossibly deeper.

with the same intention, it was the only reason you had a full body mirror in your shared bedroom. his hand tugging the hair at the nape of your neck just enough to keep your head up, providing a delicious sting. when he's feeling rougher he especially liked you on his lap, your legs draped over his thick ones as he sat on the edge of the bed. spreading you wide so he could see all of you. his arms looping around your shoulders until he could intertwine his hands behind your neck. the only way to keep your head from drooping as he bullied your sweet spot. relishing the sight of your spasming body as you splashed against the glass. his eyes would darken, guiding your jellied body to your reflection to clean up your mess. chest rumbling with a reminder to keep your eyes open.

the only time he allowed your head to dangle uselessly was when he was pinned beneath you, his mouth working dutifully between your legs. nothing mattered when you were riding his face. not his lack of breath, not the way his cock twitched painfully in his slacks, not even the way his eyes burned and threatened to close. he'd keep his eyes on you. the view so divine that he could cum untouched to which he has, unashamedly, done in the past.

he'd keep pictures and videos of your fucked out face on his phone if it wasn't so risky, so please don't blame him for all the positions he put you in at the end of the night.

A/N : the creation of this piece was a possession, i fear.

nanami x reader masterlist

mdni banner + heart chain divider by @/adornedwithlight

[fibfoolingart]

i swear this was just supposed to be some fun aesthetic swap doodles, but then i started thinking about The Implications and now i have a wholeass story behind this au lol

any world where grace chasity isn’t a horny, homicidal prude, we lose the original plot, so this au would revolve more around the church of the starry children then max jägerman lol

solomon decides the best way to wield power in hatchetfield is through religion instead of government and he unites all the tiny denominational churches into his church, becoming the pastor (happening around the same time steph starts middle school.)

it works. almost everyone attends solomon’s church, and it becomes a required social event for anyone who’s anyone in hatchetfield.

but it’s all a manipulation for bigger purposes as solomon slowly incorporates text from the black book, pushing the church into culty territory.

as the preacher’s kid, steph is under constant scrutiny. she might have wanted to rebel as a kid, but the wrath of god is a much bigger threat than just breaking her phone and solomon uses fear and guilt to keep her in line, turning her into a model of godly behavior (at least on the surface).

the chasitys refuse to join solomon’s church, but their small congregation shuts down when there aren’t enough people left. 

grace’s parents encourage grace to pour all her free time into individual bible study to make up for the lack of church, church activities, and church outings, but grace starts treating the bible like a textbook instead of a spiritual guide.

without structured church activities, her obsession with rules and procedures shifts to the school system

grace unknowingly separates herself from spirituality when her bible obsession becomes academic. she’s still a christian, but she’s more likely to corner you in the library to infodump about angelic hierarchies than preach about purity.

travis coulson was ruth’s older cousin. it freaked her the hell out that someone could be bullied that bad that they have to transfer and their entire life is erased for a dumbass lie that everyone believes. so ruth vows that she and her friends will never be outcasts (or timberwolves) and drags pete and richie into a "popularity pact" in fifth grade, forcing them to get cool or else.

the trio spends their summer doing research and practicing social skills. (they basically spend their time practicing masking autism and refining their ability to camouflage.)

the trio starts researching what’s cool. their findings? football players, student council presidents, and school play leads are the pinnacle of popularity. so, they throw themselves into middle school tryouts and campaigns to fit these roles:

richie tries out for football but ends up as the mascot.

ruth auditions for the lead in the school play but gets relegated to lighting tech.

pete campaigns for class president but only gets elected secretary.

instead of quitting there, they regroup and try again in high school:

richie uses the athleticism he got as a mascot to land him a spot on the swim team.

ruth works her way up to the the student/assistant director for the school plays

pete works his way up the student council ranks, eventually becoming class president.

the trio is finally just cool enough that their quirks get rebranded as "quirky-cool" instead of "weird." they still bond over star wars and anime in secret, but their popularity ensures they’re never targets again.

[livecrow]

You've been kidnapped by the local butcher and he convinces you he's going to fucking eat you.

Dark!Ghost x fat fem reader

CWs: rape, dehumanization, gaslighting, bondage, undiscussed kink(?), animal play(?), threats and talk of cannibalism but no actual cannibalism

(A tidied up and extended ramble I subjected @391780 to on anon. Inspired directly from their post where Butcher!Simon draws a diagram of beef cuts on you.)

It’s pretty immediately obvious he’s a murderer. He’s probably a serial killer for all you know.

In reality, Simon doesn’t consider himself a serial killer, despite his body count. He’s just someone who doesn’t have qualms dealing with nuisances. He’s a retired vet, after you’d killed enough people, what’s a few more? 

No, his kills were just business, practical. They were men who made the mistake of getting in his way, of being inconvenient. Most, anyway—there’s at least one or two whose only crime was being an especially annoying cunt. Sometimes, some people  “jus’ need killin’”. 

As a butcher, he does find the implication funny, but no, he’s not eaten any of the scum he’s off’ed. “Don’t serve ‘em up to customers, neither”. After all, Simon’s got far higher standards than that. They weren’t even fit for dog food and he has a reputation to uphold. No one can compete with his quality. 

No, you’re nothing like them. You’re special.

Never in his life had he seen a prettier creature—and you’re absolutely prime. He’s salivating just looking at you, plump and oh so soft. He can see it in the way your skin wobbles gently as you move about. Simon couldn't find a straight line on you. And he’s looked. He’s been transfixed watching you, aching.

You live your life meandering obliviously, no brand in sight, not even a tag on your ear. He's surprised no one else snatched you up. Poor thing left to fend for itself ‘s cruel. Nothing else to it. 

Wrangling you was simple, it’s not like your large form actually offered you anything towards your defense. It was easy, really. Your lack of instincts was staggering, it was even more shocking that you lasted this long, he almost couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

You were clueless to the danger, even when it was directly in front of you, it only endeared you to him. Your eyes roved over him, not paying him any mind, just carrying on about your undoubtedly inane business. Only when he was on you and it was too late did you start to kick up a fuss.

The look of panic on your face was just priceless. All this crying and babbling nonsense like, “What are you doing?!” and “Stop!”.

Simon's main concern was not damaging you too much, he was careful. Just a single huge bicep around your neck and any fight you had seemingly evaporated with fright. You're bent over in a headlock, his grip as rigid as a pillory, but he’s not applying enough pressure to actually choke you. You’re just forced helplessly to come along or be dragged.

Not that it would have mattered if you were too wild to be led, he would simply tighten his hold, and allow up a quick nap. He’d pull out the dolly, load up the truck and be on his way.

On the big stainless steel work table the metal stings you even through your clothes. Unfortunately for you, even that scant protection doesn't last. The sight of the shears was enough to paralyze you again, and with a handful of strategic snips, Simon rips your last vestiges of humanity from you. All your skin transforms to gooseflesh, shivering on the table, but your nipples is where his roaming gaze finally settles.

He’ll have to remember to adjust the heat later. After all, “‘s a bit early to start chillin’ you”, he’d chuckle. You were a bit of silly thing, he thought. Maybe it’d be a minute till you’d actually catch on.

You're his little prize. Simon will coddle you, give you plenty of softness and warmth. You’ll not want for blankets, pillows, and other such treats, but not a stitch of clothing will ever touch your skin again. There would be no hiding your nakedness.

“Clothes? Clothes ‘re for people, what y’ need clothes for?” he scoffed. You don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s a question, because he doesn’t want you to answer. A dog doesn’t answer “who's a good boy?” does he? 

He’s measuring you, jotting things down. You think distantly that the pencil looks puny in his fist. While he's at it, he's feeling and squeezing every inch of you. You’re groped and prodded like some saran wrapped package of beef at the grocery store.

Only when you think there’s finally a reprieve, you’re being hogtied. You’re trussed up in practically half a roll of twine, fat bulging between the strands, desperate to escape its bite. Simon says it looks good on you, can’t resist taking one of your new little rolls between his fingers, giving you a teasing pinch. You struggle of course, but the terrifying man commands you to “Settle”, says the only thing your fussing will get you is rope burn. 

He claps you on the ass affectionately, assuring you that the scratchy string is only temporary. He knows a guy for leather, does good work. All hand stitched. Simon will have a proper harness made for you. Something with a lot of d-rings. It will be more comfortable for you and he can situate you how he likes with minimal bruising or chaffing. 

As he admires your skin, he’ll remark offhandedly that he’ll have to ""'ave somethin' from you" too. He’s not usually one to bother, but it’d be a travesty to waste hide like yours. Couldn’t find more supple could y’? He hasn’t decided what’ll be yet, he’ll need to do some maths to figure out how much material you'll make. Behind his mask and the façade of impassivity, he savors your reaction. That’d be about the first time your consciousness flees from you.

Simon will lay it on thick, praise how "well-marbled" you are. Delectable. So plump and well-fed, you can't blame him for any of this, really. He'll say something about kobe beef and taking good care of you. He’ll massage you daily, knead every inch of you between his huge oiled hands. He'd take his time, temple t' toes. You couldn’t get a knot in a muscle if you tried.

Your more delicate bits don’t escape his tender ministrations either. He takes painstaking work in rubbing your insides down with thick fingers, wringing orgasms from you until you're limp and still as the rest of the meat in his shop. Says it’s good for the flavor, will make you even sweeter.

It’s all completely horrifying, it has to be a nightmare. He says all this so casually, like he’s telling you the time of day. This man is truly completely deranged. 

His hands are always on you, it’s never fucking ending. He's taken it upon himself that you never “exert” yourself and you have no choice in the matter. Bastard won’t even let your hands free to eat or bathe. He "grooms" you. Brushes your hair, trims your nails, cleans your teeth, brushes, lathers, rinses, dries, moisturizes your skin. It’s humiliating and you hate every second of it.

The juxtaposition is too much, the horror and absurdity of it all. All the restraints and manhandling, your looming demise, while insisting on soft surfaces for you, water temperature just right, food carefully curated and cut up just so. He won’t let anything happen to spoil the meat.

He doesn’t spare any expense on your “feed” either. You eat what he eats, might as well be eating off his plate. Albeit simple, it’s good food, you don't see a point in denying it. It's fresh and flavorful and to no one’s surprise it includes a lot of meat. Always from his shop of course, only the best for you.

He’ll bring out some new parcel every night for dinner, unfolding the brown paper wrapping, holding up to you to admire his work. “‘S a ribeye”. He goes on about the marbling, the even color of the meat. “Couldn’t find fresher” he’d say, "was only jus' bleedin' this mornin'".

You’re his captive audience. There’s nothing else you can do but warily watch him make dinner, even if seeing a blade in his hand gives your heart palpitations. Steak, sautéed mushrooms, jacket potatoes, roasted broccoli.

You’ve long since stopped fighting him when it comes to meals. Because it can always get worse. After being bent over on the floor, forced to eat off a dish without the use of your hands, you’d resigned yourself to the fact that eating off his fork was a sufferable compromise. Still, if he’s in a mood he won’t even allow that. You'll eat off his fingers, and he’ll laugh at your expense and chide you when you inevitably “make a mess”. 

The food was prepared, but this time the kitchen knife didn’t leave his grasp. It wasn’t a steak knife. It was too big and not serrated, but that didn’t seem to bother Simon. It certainly bothered you. Its presence loomed like a guillotine in your peripheral.

He feeds you bites between his own. Every mouthful and he looks so pleased. You desperately missed his mask at meal times. At least then you couldn’t see his smug fucking face.

On the plate the steam billows and curls. The meat gives easily under your molars, practically melts in your mouth. Hot and rich and juicy, it’s basted in butter, with garlic cloves and sprigs of rosemary, seasoned with cracked peppercorn and flakey sea salt. It’s a touch rarer than you’d like. 

You wish you were capable of escaping the horror of it all for even a second, pretend you were anywhere else, with anyone else.

Simon punctuated his first bite with a low rumble of approval, watching you with those dark, cavernous eyes. He’d continued in that way, a man content in silence.

”...you'll taste better.”

He waited until your last bite to say it, maybe that was mercy on his part. The meat transformed in your mouth, became sinewy and bitter. You couldn’t swallow, and went to spit it out. But he expected that apparently, was on you in a second. Giant rough hand sealed over your lips, practically enclosing the bottom half of your face, smooshing your cheeks up into your eyes. 

“Chew.”

It takes longer than usual, but you try to obey. His hand hasn’t moved from your mouth.

“Swallow.”

His eyes move from yours to your neck, his thumb grazing your throat lightly, tracing the bite’s trajectory as you force it down. His eyes are back on you then. 

With Simon’s free hand he deftly pierces the last drippy morsel off the plate with the knife, popping it between his scarred lips. The hand still on you moves, migrates to cup your jaw, gradually starting to squeeze. You don’t have any fight left and open before it becomes painful.

Fear paralyzes you again, when he brings the knife towards you.

The movement is slow, as if he’s actually concerned about frightening you. He’s holding it longwise, pointed off to the side.

Then it’s on your tongue.

He drags the flat of the blade’s length across the trembling muscle, leisurely, only moving it away to flip it and clean the other side, myoglobin discarded on your tongue 

“They’ll say ’m ‘spoilin’ ‘er rotten’. Eatin’ off my own plate, sleepin' in my own bed, warm under my roof. Keepin’ you safe indoors. Such a sweet, tame thing, are you?”. He strokes your cheek, wiping at a drip at the corner of your mouth with a thumb before popping that in his mouth too.

Whenever Simon’s put up enough with your smart mouth, he enjoys the look of your wide wet eyes and your trembling lips stretched around a padded ring gag.

The sounds you make when gagged are special little nonsense noises, almost like you're trying to talk like a person would. Sweet, pitiful sounds. He also loves when wet, choked sobs that cascade out of your open mouth, forcing you to drool. “You’re so messy, sweet’eart. Nose runnin’, too.” Says you're leaking from practically every hole. Eyes, nose, mouth, cunt.

Sometimes, you might almost be fooled into thinking he feels sorry for you in those moments when you're hyperventilating and hysterical, or wailing so mournfully. He always hushes you when you're crying, pets and hold you, dries your face, as if he’s not the cause of your tears. Despite how much Simon adores the taste of them, adores the soft jingling of the little cow bell tied ‘round your throat when your whole body quivers with sobs, the stress will sour the meat. He’ll say as much, but surprisingly it doesn’t help calm you down.

If it was necessary, he's not opposed to sedation. After all, he's done the research to find one that won't affect your flavor. But most of the time, his solution to your despair is yet another thorough fucking. Dopamine to counteract the stress.

Simon forces the orgasms out of your body as easily as he forces his cock into it, you're utterly helpless to stop either. His livelihood is working with his hands and unfortunately he’s damn good at it. When all's said and done and you're spent, he’ll lightly chastise you for working yourself up, for fussing.

He loves the heft of you in his hands, weighs your heavy tits in his palms, grips your ample belly. Simon can't resist taking mouthfuls of you into his mouth, worrying your supple fat with his incisors. Your tits, ass, thighs, arms, belly, back fat, hell, your double chin. It doesn't matter, any squishy bit of you. You're always afraid he might be getting impatient, that he’ll take a bite out of you, but he never does. Simon says he's just sampling, maybe tenderizing you a little. 

His favorite taste of yours is still between your legs. He has you thank him for being so careful there. Past you inner thighs and plump mons, the pressure of his teeth yields, feeling barely a graze. 

He likes putting mirrors in front of you, says he wants you to see how lovely you are. Your hands are clipped together, chain snagged in one of the shop's many meathooks, just low enough that you don’t strain your shoulders or quite have to stand on your tiptoes.

He directs you to watch, popping the lid off of a permanent marker with a squeak.

He maneuvers you this way and that as he works, dragging the marker down your body. His lines are surprisingly clean considering his canvas is such a pliant, organic shape. Hands are as steady as a surgeon. The marker tickled terribly on skin, the ethanol smell burning your nose, making it hard to think.

It only took a minute to recognize what he was doing. Your skin itches under the felt tip. You flail, trying desperately to smear it, to muss his work, but the ink dries too quickly.

Simon wouldn't let you keep your eyes closed, so in that moment you were grateful for the onslaught of tears blurring your vision somewhat.

That day, he showed you all your different cuts, as if you cared, as if you were together enough to pay attention.

Chuck, rib, loin, sirloin, rump, round, flank, plate, brisket, shank.

He tells you which are his favorite. Tells you which of his mates he’ll have over to enjoy you, ponders what pieces he’ll think they’ll like best. How to cook different cuts to get the best effect, that some cuts are naturally tougher and have to be cooked slowly, while the other cuts are tender and fatty, can be cooked at a higher temperature, quicker. 

From the very beginning, he’s referenced the “Big Day”.

He’ll ask if you're excited over the shinnnnk of a knife against a whetstone. Simon always keeps his tools in order, clean and sharpened expertly, but he thinks he'll polish them up extra shiny for the occasion. To a mirror finish, so you can see yourself. You're so beautiful, it'd be a cryin' shame for you to miss it. 

It’s been months now you’ve been with him and the day never comes. 

...

You didn't dare question it.

But if you did, Simon would just chuckle, amused that you're so eager. Maybe he'll say that he decided he wants some milk from you instead.

[z4rph1m]

Platonic Yan!batfam X dazai!reader X yandere dc

Tw: implication of sex (between reader & Chuuya), past mentions of self harm,

Forgotten child

Pro. Ch.1 Ch.2 (you are here) Ch.3

Nakahara Chuuya

Your former lover of the dark.

Why did the two of you broke up? He forgot, or maybe he just doesn’t want to remember.

He knew that the moment the two of you were in a relationship, it was unhealthy and toxic.

Maybe it’s the way you would ignore him the whole day but the moment you’re within his arms you’re a touch starve, hopelessly in love mess.

Or maybe the way he would be angry at you and try to guilt trip you into doing whatever he wants or the way you would purposely annoy him so that he would try and hurt you (he tried ask you to stop doing that)

But why exactly did the two of you stay together?

It’s simple, you two completed eachother perfectly.

Especially how fitting your abilities names are to describe the two of you.

You made him act like a human, he gave you a reason to live on.

“Are you the most beautiful human to me or to me, you’re the most beautiful human”

You stare at the empty space of your bed in longing, feeling as if there was something missing in your life.

The love marks surrounding your body, the lipstick mark on your bandages and the soft touches lingers around you.

Oh how you miss him.

You knew well that being with him was a terrible idea, especially with how aware you are to how much of a terrible person you are.

You know well you’re only using him to have the willingness to live yet the more you are with him, the more you crave for his touch.

That’s the reason why you broke up with him.

You hated how it felt, how it didn’t felt real to you. You wanted to save him the tears and pain, breaking off was maybe your only choice.

You remember well on how soft his kisses are on your scars, lips and all over your body.

Or how beautiful yours and his voice sounded together.

Maybe, just maybe under different circumstances the two of you could be together.

As much as you two stayed friends, the benefits can’t really be pass on.

“If you can’t feel love, I will give you the love that you lack your whole life”

The more time Bruce walk through the hallway to your room, the more sense of guilt cover him.

Wilting flowers, spiders in cobwebs, empty vases and dust covering the paintings.

The side of the mansion that’s long been abandoned.

God how long did he let you live like this?

How long did he left you to live within the chilly and ghostly halls of the manor?

On the way to your room, the two passed by Dick and Tim, who seemingly curious on where they’re going.

“Hey Alfred, Bruce, where you’re going?” Dick in all his glory, having his usual smile while Tim with his eye bags and energy drink in his hand.

“We’re on our way to Master [N] room, which is just at the corner of this hallway”

There was a deafening silence, but at the same time it was accompanied by a presence of a lonely child.

The presence of a child that was useless to the family.

The silence kept on going until Tim voice spoke out.

“Are you sure you’re in the right way Alfred? The corner of the hallway looks as if it’s haunted”

“Yes Master Tim, they’ve been assign to that room after all”

Damian stare at the picture that’s laying at your table.

A picture of you and your mother.

Maybe it’s the only picture of you and her but it explains everything about your relationship with her.

You malnourished, eyes hold emptiness yet smiled so awkwardly at the camera, having just an oversized t-shirt and a shorts on, bandages free, happily in your mother arms.

Thats probably the only picture of you smiling.

Out of all the pictures that he sees in the album, the one where you’re under the care of Alfred, not his father.

You’re smiling with your mother, where you live a miserable and pitiful life.

What was it that was different or missing from this family that made you never smiled at least once?

In the past, he use to sneak into your room whenever it’s one of those days where you don’t come home.

Interested on why you look so….. depressing and On deathbed-like.

Yet as time goes by, he was interested in you by you’re nature.

Seeing your photos, art and diary (or at least what’s left of it).

He wanted to know more about you yet his pride and jealousy got in the way.

He wanted your attention yet he rejected the idea of even having a conversation with you.

Everything was fine until one day he sees the room clean and smell of fresheners.

That’s when he realized what he did.

He was too late- no, he can fix it.

He will get his older sibling back, he must.

God whoever this “Q” is will be the top of his list for taking what’s his.

He hold onto your childhood doll before tensing his body when the sound of creaking fills the room.

“Father, Alfred, Tim, Dick, what are you doing here?”

Inspired by @-acid-ixx Again & again series and @-marcyvamp1re-blog silly little bat

[theesteppenwolf]

More Lucanis rambles because I’m still thinking about it and got nothing better to do :P

I am not here to tell anyone how to feel but putting words into peoples mouths who criticize the Lucanis romance (or Lucanis in general) for being unsatisfactory by saying;

“You don’t know what a slow burn is/ it’s because you expected zevran / you don’t get it he’s traumatized/ you just wanted something spicy and didn’t get it so now you’re mad” etc.

Is completely disregarding the fact that his lack of reactions and lack of content actually led people to believe he is bugged. Most DA fans didn’t expect spice or steam or whatever but they did expect an effective story, one they didn’t get.

This is at the end of the day a visual storytelling medium and implication will only get you so far, if i have to start thinking up entire plotlines in my head to make sense of the story or relationship progression then they failed at good storytelling. If i have to write paragraphs of explanations that the game doesn’t even remotely touch on then that isn’t a slow burn, it’s just a lack of content and poor pacing.

If he is traumatized and reluctant because of it you have to give me a scene where i can actually read that. If he is awkward and doesn’t know how to react to flirting you have to exaggerate to an extent for people to tell. If there is longing and angst give me banter that reflects it.

A romance in a game should give me some kind of deeper personal insight into a character and if i have to do the writers job and in my head think up those insights then the actual romance is mostly moot. I’m not saying give me all the details i’m saying at the very least give me a jumping point, some info buried in the game i won’t get otherwise. His romance fails at this.

Mary Kirby was fired yes and it’s awful what happened but unfortunately the product still remains and it leaves a lot to be desired for a big amount of people. When players are straight up going back on saves to romance someone else it’s a real problem. For me, it soured my first playthrough, especially later when i saw how Davrin and Emmrich had content, convos, specific romance outings and at the bare minimum actually had a noticeable reaction to flirting dialogue.

Again I’m not telling anyone how to feel, if it works for you that’s awesome, but to disregard his obvious lack of content by calling other fans basically stupid is incredibly disingenuous.

I love his character, loved it since The Wigmakers Job and he is still my favorite after my first playthrough. I think the beginning of his romance was very promising and the end is great but everything else is missing I’m sorry. His romance was not well executed and i honestly don’t think his character really was either. (But i won’t vent about that right now)

I know what a slow burn is, i was not expecting Zevran, i did not want a steamy romance. I wanted a well executed story and i didn’t get one. I am critical because i think it could’ve been great, i still love the game and i am not shitting on it, his character or other fans i just hate wasted potential.

[erens-heart]

levi ackerman 𑄽ᧉྀི

summary: you share your first kiss with the captain.

cw: canon universe, fem!bodied reader, sad reader comforting a sad levi, mentions of war and death, sloppy kissing turns into an angry makeout session, hair pulling, etc, mdni <3

levi ackerman had an apparent disregard for what everybody thought of him; he broke the rules. he had the mettle to make decisions others couldn’t - wouldn’t dare - that’s what made him the perfect captain. he was distant, some would say harsh, and didn’t care to waste his breath spouting nosense about hope.

it wasn’t necessary, he thought, you would all end up dying on him anyway.

despite this, during the little time levi had to himself, he would devise strategies to ensure that you came back alive from each reconnaissance. he would beg erwin to reconsider the formation, so that you could ride next to him on the next mission, where he could keep you safe, although your chances of making it back unscathed were not minimal.

“i don’t give a shit, just make sure she’s next to me. she isn’t as strong as the others.”

he’d bluffed, knowing that you were next in line for his throne, you were nearly as strong as him. to no avail, levi tried to convince himself that was your only value to the survey corps.

you had taught levi more than a few things about softness, and of how to be patient. in the strictest of confidence, he swore an oath to protect you, and would conquer however many titans necessary to fulfil it.

“captain?” you knocked on his door, politely interrupting his concentration.

“what?” he answered curtly, the weight of yesterday’s failed expedition still resting on his shoulders. he glanced up from an empty tea cup, blinking away his exhaustion, “it’s you. i see. what do you need?”

your intentions weren’t obvious, you were off-duty and had no official business in levi’s quarters. he guessed that you needed him for something else. you hesitated, realising that you hadn’t rehearsed any of this before knocking on levi’s door. he frowned at you in exchange.

“i came to see if you were okay?” you said shyly.

“what?” he practically snorted and got up, turning his body away from you so that you wouldn’t see the surprise on his face.

you’d learned to pity your captain. his short body always looked so sore, new scars would appear on his hands, and go unnoticed. you’d once offered to attend to a cut on his knuckles but he’d told you to, quote, “fuck off and mind your own business.”

however, this wasn’t pity that you felt, this was unchartered territory. you were visiting him out of hours, you were worried. you’d been outside the walls, fought titans, and made it back alive, but insinuating that you cared about levi felt, somewhat, scarier.

levi, your captain, of all people.

you took a step deeper into his room, swallowing thickly. you’d always guessed it would be peaceful in his quarters; his room was clean and organised, and he had a candle burning at his bed side. it’s soft light flickered across your face.

“captain. i think you should take a break-“ you paused, treading carefully around the subject of work, “come for a walk with me?”

“what?” he deadpanned, looking up at you in a vain attempt to read you.

you were smiling, but you smiled at everyone, he certainly wasn’t an exception. you were being kind to him but, again, you were kind to everyone, even the assholes.

secondly, he couldn’t deduce what gave you the sudden courage to knock on his door and invite him on a walk - in the middle of the night.

“captain?” you prompted with a keen sparkle in your eyes, unsure what to make of his response, or lack thereof.

“did you have somewhere in mind?” he sighed, finally giving in and putting his cup down.

“somewhere hidden. can be our secret.” you joked, catching him off-guard again.

levi clenched his jaw, painfully aware of the implications should he get caught alone with you. he wouldn’t lose his job, no, it’d be worse than that - he would be teased for the rest of his life!

“sure.” he eventually agreed after pretending to think about it. he took a cloak from his hanger for warmth and, beneath that, he wore a shirt and tight slacks to hide the bruises he’d earned in battle.

he brushed past you, leading the way out, his small shadow dancing on the walls. you could tell that he wasn’t relaxed, he couldn’t relax, and held a permanently stiff posture. could you blame him? all that death on his shoulders, all those lives on the line.

having pulled your hood up to stay hidden, your smile drooped and you looked down at your feet as you followed behind him, wondering what you could possibly say. what could possibly make things better? or change the fate of humanity?

“so. you invited me out for a walk, and now the cat’s got your tongue?” levi asked, breaking the heavy silence.

you dragged your hand mindlessly along the cobblestone walls, and hummed. “there’s isn’t much to say, honestly. just thought it’d do you some good to get out.”

levi chuckled ungenuinely - it was honestly ironic.

“i go outside all the time.” he spoke as he glared at the tunnel ahead. “it’s just unfortunate i have to spend all of that time butchering titans.”

you frowned with him, hugging your cloak to your body you as you emerged from the tunnel onto the training grounds.

it was completely dark outside, save for the two sconces either side of the doorway you were stood in, and the stars twinkling down at you from the heavens. you watched levi’s cold breath make clouds as he exhaled, scanning the field.

“you can relax.” you mumbled, watching him scour the trees for signs of life. it was like he’d developed a reflex for hunting titans, it was instinctual now. he felt the constant prickle of anxiety, you felt it too.

you were so transfixed on levi’s scowl and the determination in his expression, that you had little time to appreciate what beauty was left in your world: the frost, the birds, the wind.

you tugged on levi’s cape, stealing his attention. his hard expression softened.

“sorry. been hard to relax lately.” he admitted, kicking the gravel with his boot.

“you’re the strongest man i know, levi.” your voice cracked,

“i don’t mean physically. i don’t understand how you get up every morning and face the world, and those titans. if- if i were you- i would have given up years ago.” you began messily, clutching your fist against your racing heart.

levi sighed, and cradled your face with his strong hands, furrowing his eyebrows as he peered into you. his hands were freezing, it was a surprise to you that they weren’t numb.

“shut up.” he scolded gently, and looked down at your glistening lips. “i would have given up too, if not for you.”

he brought you closer, snaking one of his thick arms around your waist. levi didn’t care anymore. without a second thought, he surrendered, he couldn’t bear not having you for a second longer, he was but sand in the hourglass of time.

he used his other hand to guide your chin forwards. he pressed his lips softly to yours and your heart stopped, but you pecked him back.

he kissed you so gently, carefully cherishing the taste of you, as if it were his last night on earth.

you kissed him back, holding onto his collar, whilst he made guttural sounds that lit a fire within you. you could feel all of his rough scars tickling your skin as you moaned weakly into his mouth.

crazed, he grabbed your hair from underneath your hood, pulling you into his taut body, so hard that you crashed into him. your hood fell down, revealling tears that would have otherwise gone unnoticed. he wouldn’t dare, but levi felt like crying too.

you kissed his open mouth, licking his tongue sloppily, letting him lick yours too. the way he kissed you gave you butterflies, it was more than what you’d ever imagined. your heart ached, your body tingled, your feelings felt uncontainable.

you smiled at him, sticking your tongue out for him to taste. levi groaned darkly and licked it, again and again, before grabbing a fistful of the hair on the back of your head. he tied his fingers into your hair and gripped it hard before smashing his mouth back into yours again.

you felt so alive you were sure you were going to die.

you pulled back for air after a while. levi looked at you with starving eyes, and followed you backwards into the wall. you parted your legs to make room for his knee, which he pushed up into the space between your legs. he caged your head between his two hands on the wall, gritting his teeth against your ear,

“captain…” you croaked.

“don’t you die on me. ever.” he grunted, pressing his forehead tiredly to the side of your head, breathing raggedly.

“i won’t.”

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

I was wondering how Erik would react to his Beloved while ovulating or being clingy ect due to lack of sleep? (You don’t have to that’s totally up to you!!)

Headcannons, let’s go~ TMI, but it’s my ovulation week so that’s what you’re getting :) but don’t worry, you’re both clingy afterwards.

Oh boy, poor, poor Erik-

While Erik is a true polymath and has extensive knowledge on anatomy and science, he’s never actually had a partner to know what ovulation is like first hand.

However, as true as that may be, he’s going to be all over you as soon as you make any implication of having a need, whether that be to make love to him or even for just some chocolates or cuddle time.

You’ll find him nervously hovering over you, his hands flitting about as though scared to touch you until they come to gently hold your hands for about five seconds before he starts fussing again.

He’s so, so, so incredibly sweet, fretting over you, your needs, and your comfort obsessively. Sometimes you have to put on that tone of voice and tell him to sit back and relax for a bit. Maybe you sit by him on his organ bench as he writes music and plays the keys to try and help calm him down.

Erik is incredibly desperate to please, but you may find that he is one of this partners who’s very like “it’s not uteri, it’s uterus”, so expect him to match your horny levels as best he can. (Keep in mind he’s older and doesn’t have nearly as much stamina, you’ll have to kind of pace things throughout the day if you want to pull more than four orgasms from him).

You know that white goopy stuff that gets mixed in with your normal discharge? Don’t expect any fear of it from him. Erik knows it’s natural, and will still gladly go down on you like you’re his favorite meal anytime, any day. (Because, let’s be real now, you very much are).

He actually finds the difference in your taste fascinating, and you’ll find that he eats you out much more voraciously when you’re ovulating.

Expect Erik to extremely in tune with how you’re feeling physically. If your breasts are a bit tender or sore, you can expect that this will be one of the only times you can really keep him from latching. Of course, even if you can’t handle him nursing, he’s more than happy to gently cup your breasts and massage them for you. He’d actually probably explode though if you asked him to use lotion or anything.

As mentioned previously, Erik is overly eager to please and down to tend to your every need. He has absolutely no problem getting on top and doing classic missionary or something similar, rutting into you as the most musical little whines and moans leave his malformed lips.

You do have to remind him he can’t come inside during this week though. He’s normally very good at respecting that rule, but on occasion he finds himself getting so overwhelmed that he cums out of nowhere, thick hot ropes of white spurting inside of you and filling you to the brim as he keens and tears wind down his ruined cheeks.

Of course, you must have pity on him. He won’t be anywhere near able to keep up with you, and you really have to hammer it into his skull that it’s necessary for him to tell you when he needs a break and that you realize you’re borderline insatiable in this state so he needn’t overdo himself.

Of course he’s going to try to anyway though.

Please reassure him that he’s adequate enough and that anyone would be hard pressed to keep up with you in this state, he really does feel horrible for feeling like he can’t make you come or please you enough.

This and when you’re on your monthly are occasions where he simply won’t budge on handling aftercare duties, and he’ll wail if you try to take care of him instead of you letting him take care of you for once.

Erik goes for the full works. Bath, chocolates, he makes you your favorite meals throughout the week and always makes excess in case you find your appetite increased. He even pulls out a stunning nightgown made of the most comfortable material money can buy that he literally made from scratch for when you just want to be comfy or are getting ready for sleep.

And of course once you’re properly taken care of and sated, Erik loves nothing more than to lay down in your arms, curled up against your chest as you both drift off with the dreams of seeing each other tomorrow all over again.

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER EIGHT: choose your fighter!

masterlist

She tossed her phone onto the bed, the sound echoing in the silence of the room, and buried her face in her hands, a deep sigh escaping her lips. Why couldn’t her friends find it in themselves to be happy for her? Sukuna had his flaws—plenty of them—but so did she. They had both stumbled through their relationship and while she didn’t want to return to that tumultuous past, the ache of loneliness was becoming harder to ignore.

She thought about the way he made her feel, the intoxicating blend of exhilaration and vulnerability that surged through her in his presence. His touch was a sanctuary, enveloping her in the warmth that felt both safe and electric as if every heartbeat synchronised with the unspoken connection they shared. It was in those moments that she felt seen, cherished, and undeniably alive; yet the aftertaste of that sweetness was often tainted by his erratic behaviour.

God, why did he have to be such a cunt? If only he had shown a hint of consideration, if only he hadn't allowed his insecurities to seep into their moments together, this decision would have been made hours ago. She could have stepped forward with clarity instead of being mired in confusion, torn between the yearning for his touch and the frustration of his thoughtlessness. Each time she recalled the warmth of his embrace, it came with the sharp sting of disappointment, a reminder that the comfort he offered was often shadowed by his lack of commitment.

It was a painful paradox-craving his closeness while grappling with the reality of his emotional distance. In that swirling tumult of feelings, she found herself caught in an endless cycle of hope and disillusionment, desperate for a resolution that would allow her to either embrace him in a way that wouldn’t leave her feeling like shit.

Her thoughts shifted to Megumi. He had offered in a way that made her heart race, the implication lingering like a whisper. She bit her lip, contemplating the choice before her. Megumi would be a far better option than Sukuna; he had a steadiness about him that she found comforting.

Flipping onto her stomach, she buried her face in the pillow, muffling a scream of frustration. Here she was, torn between dignity and desire. Should she text Sukuna and risk reopening old wounds, or reach out to Megumi and swallow her pride? The options felt like a cruel joke—two paths that led to equally undesirable destinations. Yet, amidst the chaos, she understood one thing: sometimes a girl had to make choices that didn’t feel right, simply to find a moment of solace in the storm.

Finally, she raised her head from the indent in the pillow, her thoughts swirling with a mix of reluctance and resignation. Swallowing her pride—and the certainty that she would regret this moment later—she reached for her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she opened iMessage. The soft, rhythmic clicks of the keyboard filled the quiet room as she typed one of the most clichéd and overused lines of the 21st century, a phrase as worn as her emotions felt.

Her finger hovered over the “send” button, a moment stretching into what felt like an eternity. With a heavy breath, she finally succumbed to the impulse and pressed it.

Read at: 9:47 PM

Well, that was fast. Had he been waiting for her to text him all along? The notification blinked before her, a stark reminder of her vulnerability and the tangled web of choices she had woven. A mixture of anticipation and dread coursed through her, leaving her to wonder if this moment would be the beginning of something new—or a replay of the past.

extras!

• the enemies to lovers is STRONG in this chapter

• honorary toge brainrot reference

• more cameos (also guys please do not ask for a cameo bc it’s filling up my inbox😭 in the most nicest way possible just let it be please <3 if i want you to be featured i will, keep in mind not every chapter will have a cameo)

• more stsg propaganda because THEYRE CANON IDC

• yuta being whipped part 73

• yuji def put all the new fans onto his fav horror movie recs (hereditary and i am legend)

• the girls are FIGHTINGGG (and not in a good way)

• yn being a bitch to maki on GOD she’s pissing me off like why is yn putting dick first

• maki being nothing but sweetheart part 119

• nobara cooking us #wedeserveit

• maki left the apartment and went to yuta’s after for some… therapy 😊

• WHO DID WE TEXT GUYS… MEGUMI OR SUKUNA?? FIND OUT *looks at watch* NEXT WEEK! 🫵

a/n: i’m really edging you guys with the last part THIS IS SO FUN😭😭 take your vote now! did we cave into daddykuna’s text.. or did we say fuck it and text megumi.. find out in 6 days!! <3 this was also probably my favourite chapter to write so far GUYS ITS JUST GETTING STARTED

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @laughingfcx @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @pastriepuppy @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[hashtagloveloses]

The headline is pretty awful but this is one of those things that gets worse as you read it:

The 14-page petition, filed in Shelby County, Tennessee, probate court, alleges that Sean and Leigh Anne Tuohy, who took Oher into their home as a high school student, never adopted him. Instead, less than three months after Oher turned 18 in 2004, the petition says, the couple tricked him into signing a document making them his conservators, which gave them legal authority to make business deals in his name.

"Michael Oher discovered this lie to his chagrin and embarrassment in February of 2023, when he learned that the Conservatorship to which he consented on the basis that doing so would make him a member of the Tuohy family, in fact provided him no familial relationship with the Tuohys."

Oher was a rising high school senior when he signed the conservatorship papers, and he has written that the Tuohys told him that there was essentially no difference between adoption and conservatorship. "They explained to me that it means pretty much the exact same thing as 'adoptive parents,' but that the laws were just written in a way that took my age into account," Oher wrote in his 2011 best-selling memoir "I Beat the Odds."

But there are some important legal distinctions. If Oher had been adopted by the Tuohys, he would have been a legal member of their family, and he would have retained power to handle his own financial affairs. Under the conservatorship, Oher surrendered that authority to the Tuohys, even though he was a legal adult with no known physical or psychological disabilities.

While the [movie] deal allowed the Tuohys to profit from the film, the petition alleges, a separate 2007 contract purportedly signed by Oher appears to "give away" to 20th Century Fox Studios the life rights to his story "without any payment whatsoever." The filing says Oher has no recollection of signing that contract, and even if he did, no one explained its implications to him.

The [movie] deal lists all four Tuohy family members as having the same representative at Creative Artists Agency, the petition says. But Oher's agent, who would receive movie contract and payment notices, is listed as Debra Branan, a close family friend of the Tuohys and the same lawyer who filed the 2004 conservatorship petition, the petition alleges. Branan did not return a call to her law office on Monday.

"Mike's relationship with the Tuohy family started to decline when he discovered that he was portrayed in the movie as unintelligent," Stranch said. "Their relationship continued to deteriorate as he learned that he was the only member of the family not receiving royalty checks from the movie, and it was permanently fractured when he realized he wasn't adopted and a part of the family."

For years, Oher has chafed at how "The Blind Side" depicted him, saying it hurt his football career and clouded how people view him. He has said that based on the film, some NFL decision-makers assumed he was mentally slow or lacked leadership skills.

"People look at me, and they take things away from me because of a movie," Oher told ESPN in 2015. "They don't really see the skills and the kind of player I am."

"Beyond the details of the deal, the politics, and the money behind the book and movie, it was the principle of the choices some people made that cut me the deepest."