#pulled that title from the depths of my ass

[harpieisthecarpie]

Edit: keeping the og reblog for posterity but I was incorrect in my presumption and the hate crime DID happen. The Independent spun it in a way I'm critical of all the same.

Alright, I had quick pointers on red flags in posts but I wanted to do more in-depth digging to be sure I wasn't talking out of my ass. Here's what I found:

I searched up Amber Muhm as my first thread to pull, and like nevermindmorpheus nearly all the results were articles from 2023 citing her as a local activist working with trans women and trans femmes.

There were a few articles covering the same crime that was alleged in The Independent! That's if "covering the same crime" suddenly translates to "reposted the exact article on their own site", of course. That batch largely consists of automated websites like Yahoo and MSN News.

The only other source I found on my "Amber Muhm" search was by Amelia Roessler with Minnpost, a nonprofit journalism group whose primary audience is Minnesotans. That article, "Police negotiation with Red Wing gunman leads to discovery of a dead woman" was published November 18th, 2024 as part of their Glean segment, a twice daily compilation of Minnesota news from various sources.

That Minnpost article refers to what we're curious about here:

And that link leads to WCCO, also known as CBS News Minnesota, specifically the article "2 transgender women attacked in downtown Minneapolis, advocates say" by Kirsten Mitchell that was published Nov 18th, 2024 at 1:42 CST

Our Independent article in question "Crowd cheered as two transgender women were attacked at Minneapolis rail station, advocates say" by Kelly Rissman was published Nov 18th, 2024 at 19:26 GMT (7:26 PM).

That converts to 1:26 PM in CST, which means The Independent article existed for a slim 16 minutes prior to that WCCO piece. As far as I can tell, the WCCO article's main divergence from The Independent is the lack of assertions that Minneapolis Police and Amber Muhm specifically told The Independent all this info.

Basically, it seems to me like Kelly Rissman, via The Independent, was the primary (and sole) source for this supposed crime that "a crowd cheered" over. And considering the lack of updates on an highly topical event and the article's lack of corroborating evidence (like video) I feel okay giving my tips.

So what are the red flags we can see right in OP's screenshots of the article?

The title's claim ends with "advocates say" and the header similarly uses "according to a rally organizer". It signals that the article is reporting based on allegations and hearsay, especially with how vague those references are

Why do you need to rely on advocates for all the info on a very public crime? Bystanders record violence even when they aren't cheering for it.

What kind of advocates are they? Trans rights advocates? Anti-LGBTQ+ advocates?

Why is a rally organizer your main source about 2 victims of what would for sure be considered a hate crime? And not even for info on the crime itself, but about the circumstances around the women's move to Minnesota.

What does the title focus on? That similar WCCO article focuses on the actual attack, whereas The Independent's title opens with "crowds cheered". Why emphasize the bystander reaction over the act of brutal violence?

It's an article by The Independent.

This is where we are. Anti-trans pogroms have begun and the community is living in fear. Things are so bad that some of us are unable to live anymore.

Where is the left? Where are our allies?

#TDoR2024

[the-daiz]

#2— leap rewards

—Flufftober day 2: Rainy day (prompt extras)

Pairing; Speed-o’-sound Sonic x reader

Tags; Established relationship, corny, corny reader

Synopsis; Kisses, tenderness and cockiness.

✎Word count; 1.3k

♪ Playlist; Feenlayalik | فين لياليك

A/N; ew this is so cringy it’s killing me. One of the very few fluffs I’m writing, so eat well. I hope I didn't miss any typos woops

The rain, only a few lone droplets a moment ago, drizzled across the dark streets in a thunderous rhythm.

Your fingers curled tighter around the plastic bag in your hand, and you could do nothing but purse your lips as you watched the cruel misfortune cackle at you behind the glass of the convenience store.

It was midnight. Almost midnight, and you were restless, so you decided to simply head to the small familiar store to find something to eat in hopes of quenching your boredom.

Unfortunately for you, however, the night sky had hidden the clouds encasing the city, and who would bother checking the weather app for such an inconvenient outing?

You muttered a fleeting curse as you contemplated running all the way back to your apartment. You'd probably catch a cold, but what other choice did you have?

"Seriously? How do you always manage to get yourself into these situations?" The snarkiness laced in the individual's voice didn't go unnoticed by you, and you needn't glance to your side to know who the ominous figure— that seemingly materialized out of thin air, was.

"Of course I'd find you here." You sighed, masking the relief that had washed over you.

"I found you." His smirk stretched. "Actually."

"Yeah, ok, what are you doing here, anyway?" You finally turned your head to glance at him. The lights from the streets poured onto him with such great precision, even while being obstructed by the rain droplets racing down the glass tiles. He looked enchanting.

Speed-of-sound Sonic. What a name. What a face. Always so beautiful, always so alluring. Always keeping you ensnared in its bewitching existence. Always keeping you chasing after its beholder.

"Looking out for you. I had a feeling you'd get yourself into some kind of predicament." He glanced at you from the corners of his eyes, the smug turn in the corner of his lips never faltering.

"So you were stalking me?" You concluded.

"In a sense." He shrugged.

"How shameless." You shook your head, a smile slowly creeping up your features.

"Oh? So you don't need my help?" He raised a brow. "Save's me the trouble, then." He turns around, walking away, pretending that he's about to abandon you.

But knowing him, he would do it if he's feeling cocky enough.

As quickly as he does, though, you latch onto his arm. One hand faintly squeezed his while the other clasped onto his inner elbow. His brows rose and he blinked down at you with gleeful endearment.

His lips stretch to form a grin once more, but this time, it holds less arrogance than his previous one.

He feels a stretch of warmth pool into his chest as your palms press around the fabric of his sleeve.

The both of you fall silent, as the sound of pouring rain outside filters the quiet around you.

"What?" Sonic finally speaks as he stares at you.

"You know what." You roll your eyes with a grumble.

"Hmm, no I don't think I do."

"Does being a prick turn you on or something? Help me." As soon as those words flew past your lips, his hands were quick to carry you off your feet and into his arms. One of his arms supported the back of your knees while the other held you firmly by your back. You let out a soundless gasp at the sudden action.

You still hadn't gotten used to his speed.

"Sure. I won't do it for free, though." His smirk was back, but you had no time to retort as he was already soaring out of the shop and into the streets. The wind slammed into your curled frame along with a few spatters of rainwater. You scrunched your eyes closed and held your breath, your hands gripping tightly onto his sweater.

After a few seconds of wind constantly ramging into you and breath-knocking swerves, everything stills. You slowly pry your eyelids open, and you're met with the clean walls of your home. The lights were on. 

Did you forget to turn them off? or did he turn them on just now?

After blinking a few times while taking in a few deep breaths as your heart hammered from the sudden adrenaline rush, your gaze trailed up to his face. He was peering down at you, his grin faded and replaced with a stoic, serene look. He carefully set you down.

"How'd you get into my apartment?" You asked as you glanced at the closed and supposedly locked door of your home.

"You should be asking how I was able to carry you." There it was again, that snobbish look. He leered down at you with amusement, expecting you to push his face away with a scoff and head off to place the items you had purchased into the kitchen.

Instead, you stood unmoving before him, staring up at him with quiet fondness. Your fingers relaxed and a small thud was heard as the plastic bag fell, discarded on the floor. Your pupils moved to glance at each of his eyes, stammering as if unsure where to look. They both- He. Him. All of him was ineffable. 

His grin felt spindly.

The way your eyelids sat solemnly as you peered at him. And the sound of your inhales— he didn't know what it was but it was coiling around him, hindering his mobility, at least, his mental one.

Heat began to creep up his neck. He had to hold back the urge to dart his gaze away from yours, growing flustered under your fervent gleam. 

He continued to feign control, face flushed and sweating, and his mouth fell open into an empty gape, lips slightly twitching before he spoke.

"You're dying to taste me, aren't you?" His brows furrowed as he continued to forcefully stretch out his grin. Surely now you would've been tired of his stuck-up attitude. He expected a shove to his chest paired with an eye roll from you.

You cracked a soft smile instead. He felt a jolt ram into his chest when you slid your hands around his neck and hummed a nod, completely unfazed by his remarks. You pressed a firm kiss to his cheek. He squinted his right eye and frowned as you attacked the side of his face, pressing harder onto him before dramatically ending it with a prominent 'mwah' sound.

Your grin widened giddily at his expression, a mix of annoyance and stubbornness-- along with a faint cast of pink spreading to his ears. You closed the distance once more and engrossed yourself in a soft, fleeting kiss. He instinctively gripped your waist with a hand to steady you, his head tilting to the side as he contributed to your tender affection. He didn't like that it was fleeting, but he had no say as you broke the kiss and began to line pecks on the side of his lips.

"You're so sappy it's repulsing." He huffed, tugging you closer as his other hand gently pressed against your nape.

"Stop talking, you're ruining your face." You murmured before planting another kiss along his jawline.

"You don't have to talk to ruin yours." As soon as he riposted, he jerked your head to face his and pressed your lips together once more. Your eyes melted shut as you pushed further into him, your mouths swaying a passionate song, much different than his usual frantic ones. 

Your hands slipped to cup the sides of his face as you slightly deepened the kiss. In response, one of his arms wrapped around your torso, and euphoria coursed through him as he held you closer.

Faint panting hung in the air as you broke the kiss, looking into each other's eyes. You squashed his cheeks a little with your hands, flashing him a toothy grin. His face was still and adorned with bliss as he gazed into your grace.

"I'm not being serious." He breathed out, his features remaining placid. You snickered, your eyes squinting as your grin spread further.

Ugh, what the hell were you!?

"I know."

[shuenkio]

Revenge lesson - ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

Paring: Heeseung X male!reader

Cw: Smut, rough sex, curse, nsfw.

Synopsis: Co-workers rival, he's mad at you and decides to teach you a lesson.

You're responsible for what you read (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)

{Heeseung} The Co-Worker rivals, who like to compete with each other in order to win the employee of the month title, compete so strongly that the boss was forced to include both of them on the list together.

Late at night at the company, you work overtime as per usual, even completing the paperwork for the next day. Same goes for Heeseung, who also likes to work overtime to earn his keep with the CEO. Unexpectedly, after finishing his work, he walks to your desk, his daily routine after work being to pester and annoy you. The conversation was harsh, and full of insults, today he's gone too far.

"Now i know why you don't have a girlfriend yet because you're a fucking manipulate, two face person who like take advantage of the other, with all those things of you, nobody would want to fuck with you, Mr LEE!" You fire back, standing up from your seat and shooting him a furious gaze, death glaring at him and waiting for his response.

Heeseung's face turns red as his veins are pumping, visible on his forehead. He scoffed forcefully and slammed his bag down to the ground, dropping it in an aggressive manner.

"Nobody fuck with me? Really? Ya!-if nobody will then it'd be you, now I'm gonna teach you a lesson, getting on my nerves, deserve a consequence baby" He let his tongue slide through, poking inside his mouth,With a swift motion, he unlatched his belt and lifts it off his waist. The belt slides smoothly off his body without any effort on his part, falling down to his side where it hangs limply by his leg.

"W-what are you doing!" You nervously ask, You feel your eyes go white, and your entire body starts to shiver with fear. The hell he was about to do?!!

"To fuck you of course, just like you said nobody wanna fuck with me so I'm gonna make you take this place instead" He replies seductively and looks at you like a hungry beast. His scary aura makes you more frightened and excited at the same time. You're shivering and fearful. find yourself too stunned to move, your life was about to flash before your eyes here.

He casually unzipped his pants, His red underwear peeked through the opening, hinting at his member soon to be revealed.

With a playful smirk on his face, he slowly pulled down his boxers just enough to expose a portion of his veiny hard cock, a small droplet of precum glistened at its tip. causing you to gasps.

"Tonight will decide whether we continue as enemies or as lovers, M/N" 🫦

As Heeseung noticed your hesitation, he quickly seized control of the situation. Grabbing onto your tie, he pulled you towards him with surprising strength. Before you knew it, you were standing face-to-face with him.Without warning, he spun you around so that your back was now pressed against his chest. In swift motions, he stripped away your pants and pushed you forward until you found yourself bent over the table in front of you.

The older grabbed a condom from his bag, he slid it onto his 10 inches with practiced ease. Holding your hands in one of his, he steadied your head with the other. Without any warning, he thrust his hip inside you - filling and stretching you in a single, forceful motion. The strength of his, left you speechless, but there was also an undeniable thrill in this passionate. It felt like your insides were being stretched open wider than ever before. His long 10 inches seemed to push deeper with each thrust, filling and stretching you in ways that left you breathless.

The sight of his bulging member against your stomach served as a visual reminder of the depths he was reaching within you.

"You love it don't you, my little M/N? I know it's your first time baby, which is why your ass squeezing me so tight" He leaned down close to your ear, his rhythmic thrusts continuing unabated, he whispered huskily His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, adding another layer of excitement to the already intense experience. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room,in each powerful stroke.

As you struggled to contain your moans, the pleasure building within you, it seemed to ignite his passion even more. His pace quickened, each thrust driving him deeper inside you with an urgency that spoke of desires left unsatisfied for far too long.

"W-why it's feel so good, i w-want to stop him but i also don't want to---" you speak in your mind, lip bitting, lose yourself in the world of ecstasy.

"FUCK YESSS, ohhh nghhh that's it, you feel so DAMN good m/n" His breath came in ragged gasps, mirroring the tempo of his unstoppable assault.

Despite your best efforts to stay silent, soft groans escaped your lips, revealing how deeply this fervent encounter was affecting you. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed more loudly in the quiet, shadowy office. Thankfully, all windows were tightly sealed and cameras remained unmoving, shielding you from potential disturbances or repercussions.

Heeseung raised one of your leg onto his shoulder, still back facing him, altering his position for increased depth. His rapid thrusts persisted without pause, he has no plan to stop by anytime soon.

Your moans harmonized with his, both of you reveled in the ecstasy of the moment. Even though he was technically your rival, there was no denying that he was giving you the hottest fuck ever, and it's your first time, you're that strong to handle his aggressiveness.

His hips picked up speed, driving into you with greater force than before. The imprint of his veiny cock became more obvious against your stomach with each thrust.

His breathing turned ragged, coming out in short gasps. Meanwhile, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the sensations flooding your body, rolling your eyes to the back of your head and losing yourself in the moment.

"Hell ughh-ahh, I'm gonna fill~ your fucking inside with my fucking cum right!!"

As he felt the urge to release growing stronger, he started to fuck into you with increased speed. When the moment arrived, he filled you completely with his seed.

At the same time, you too were overcome by a wave of pleasure, until finally both of you came together in perfect synchronization, before he collapsed onto your back, still intimately connected to you.

His cock remained buried deep within you as you both struggled to catch their breath.

"*Catching his breath* This is your first lesson M/n, if you dare to insults me again, I'm sure there's many more to come"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

🗣️ My first time writing a smut 🫣 if there's some awkward moment, sorry in advance ~

Ps: I'm planning to write more content like this since my last work is blowing, comment down below who you want next 🤭.

[sunsetkerr]

KISS & TELL | s.kerr

summary: the girls find out exactly who gave you that ring [789 words]

pairing: matildas!reader x sam kerr

notes: the long-awaited second part to 'hush hush'! this was the most voted wip to work on, next piece will be too far gone which was the second most popular xx happy valentines week loves!

IT WENT ON FOR about a week.

Your teammates pestered you all throughout camp about who gave you your engagement ring, and most importantly, how you kept it a secret for so long.

You gave them bits and pieces. Oh, we've been together for a few years now, but we've just kept it private..... She's super busy lots of the time, really hectic work schedule...... We played soccer together growing up.... You just didn't relay that you still play together. That your fiancee actually captains you.

Sam was enjoying every moment of it. She loved the secrecy, she adored watching her teammates pull their hair out over it. Chids had a whole shared notes app dedicated to adding information about your dubbed, 'mystery woman'. Sam revelled in her new title.

She was feeling extra cheeky, there was no denying that. Sam was at her peak watching everyone scramble around, listening as you slipped out little pieces of information of your relationship together.

Did you feel guilty that you hadn't told your team? Sure. But you and Sam never really felt the need to. They're your family, you love them with your whole heart- but this was one thing you and Sam just wanted for yourselves.

"Well I want to help plan your hens night," Alanna shrugged. The topic of your secret engagement had come up again after dinner one night.

"No because I'm not going unless you tell us!" Macca argued from her spot on the beanbag, Harper on her lap. You laughed, crossing your arms and putting your feet up on the couch.

"We can do without the numbers, Mac" You waved her off.

"Hey Y/N?" Ellie walked into the lounge area looking for you. "Can I grab my pre-wrap from you tonight please? I wanna start packing for Queensland,"

"Always punctual as usual" Mini chirped from her place on the couch, your feet resting in her lap.

"Shut up" Ellie quipped.

You chuckled, "Yeah, let me go grab it". You headed off towards your room and managed to pinch Sam's ass on your way past her, distracting her from the in-depth conversation she was having with Steph.

You chuckled as she tried her best to ignore you, but you knew she could never. Once you got into your room, it was only a matter of seconds before Sam followed you in. She crept up behind you and snaked her arms around your waist, tickling you as she squeezed you tight.

"You're cheeky, hey" She laughed, kissing your cheek as you giggled and tried to push your way out of her grasp. She moved her way down to your neck and you tried your best not to squirm in pleasure, knowing that at any second anyone could come-

"Aunny Sammy and Y/N are kissing!"

Your heart dropped and you pulled apart from Sam. You both turned around to see Harper standing in the doorway, pointing at you and Sam who she had just caught in the act.

"Mummy!" She ran off, yelling down the hallway.

"Harps, Harper! No!" You called after her, running down the hallway. She was surprisingly fast for a near-three year old. By the time you managed to find her she was already halfway through relaying to your team what she had seen.

"They kiss! Sam and Y/N kiss like Mum and Mummy!" She smiled looking back over to you. Sam had now come up behind you, a guilty look on her face, your lipgloss smeared on her lips.

"Skip.." Mary spoke up, slowly looking from you to Sam. "Is that true? Did you kiss Y/N?" She asked a shocked look on her face. The rest of your team looked at you both in silence.

Sam begrudenly crossed her arms over her chest and nodded her head shyly, a smile breaking out on her lips. "She just got engaged, Sam.. Not cool" Mary shook her head.

"Oh my god," Alanna erupted.

"Are you serious Maz?"

"Jesus fucking Christ" Mackenzie put her head in her hands with a sigh.

"What?" Mary held up her hands, looking from everyone back to you both. Sam chuckled and stepped forwards, holding up your hand that dawned your shiny new engagement ring.

You saw the cogs turn in her head before they finally clicked. "Oh my god!" She screamed, rushing over to congratulate you both. The girls all followed suit, shouting at you both for keeping it a secret from them all for so long.

"I can't believe you!" Alanna hugged you from behind, her arms around your neck.

"I don't kiss and tell, Kennedy!" You smiled as you watched Sam explain to your team how she proposed. You were so happy to finally have your team in on your secret. It just made it all that much sweeter.

[slut4daviii]

character: t.shigaraki

pt: 01/01

cw: face-fucking, praise, degradation, yandere-themes, vibrational quirk, body worship, dark DARK themes, fingering, marathon cumshots, sexual torture, strong submissive/dom themes, sir/daddy kink, hate-fucking

summary: Shigaraki kills [names] gf then kidnaps him, wanting a relationship but gets something much more…pleasurable.

a/n: this shii is straight ass. i jus finally got over my writers block😻. i swear to you guys, the next smut i write will be 100x better. trust me pls.

title: [name]’s BITCH

wc: 1200-1700

────────────────────────

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it was dark.

utter obscurity.

hushed voices whisked around you, echoing into the silent background that was yourself.

you tried to move— tried to undo the bindings around your wrist; they only tightened, burning your skin in an agony you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

you let loose a hiss, somehow putting the whispers to rest. you could feel eyes dart to your body, feel their sting against your revealed skin.

you turned your head away, cursing lightly. ‘where the fuck am I?’ you weren’t asking anyone in particular, just trying to calm your racing nerves.

“finally awake, hm?”

you listened intently, perking your ears to hear better. the voice sound so familiar, as if… you’d known him for years.

“not a talker, huh?”

you continued to listen; trying to make out whom you were speaking with.

“are you mad at me, [name]?”

you gritted your teeth at the question, hissing again at the increased pressure on your wrist.

“oh, please don’t be mad at me [name]! I swear I don’t mean to hurt you! I just couldn’t stand to watch her take you away from me any longer.”

you reeled back, eyes darting aimlessly around the darkness still plaguing your vision.

“I had to do it [name]! if I didn’t, she would’ve took you away from me and became your wife! then you wouldn’t realize how much you need me and not her!”

the words weren’t making sense, ramblings from a person you knew but couldn’t see. through his manic dialogue, you’d figured out one thing— he was the one who killed your girlfriend.

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

his mumbling ceased at the sound of your voice. replacing itself with a suppressed moan. “ye—yes sir?”

the words came out jumbled, unformed and quick. breathy and quiet. they made way to your ear, quelling the anger inside of you.

“you killed [gf/name]?” your tone was heavy— deep and rough, sending pleasure running down Shigaraki’s spine.

“she was taking you away from me—! I had to do something to get your attention, please don’t be mad at me!”

you stayed quiet, closing your eyes to slow your breathing.

“s—sir? are you— you mad at me?”

the word ‘sir,’ he kept using it. despite him being in control of the situation. he kept referring to you as the… dominant one; making it clear that he wanted something from you, something that seeing your girlfriend have, made him go crazy with jealousy.

“c’mere.”

Shigaraki moaned softly, his body moving without instruction. he stood over you, awaiting your next command.

“take off this mask and the ropes around my arms”

he hesitated, shaking with anticipation; “b—but sir, you’ll try to le—leave me!” he began begging you, “anything else! please! I’ll do anything for you!”

“anything?”

“yes, yes please! anything!”

“take. off. the mask. and these ropes.”

Shigaraki let out a gasp, sharply inhaling before removing the burlap sack that was attached to your shoulders.

your vision was glared, blurry and unfocused behind the florescent lights overhead. you stared up at Shigaraki, waiting for your vision to clear. when it did, Shigaraki shimmered— his eyes were lined with unspilled tears, his body shivered with emotion, and he looked… ravishing.

“now the ropes.”

tears flooded his face, and an expression of pure despair overtook took him; shoving his pride to unconscious depths.

he did as you said, pulling the ropes from your skin before standing back; waiting for you to leave.

you looked at him, watching at tears ran downwards, falling to his chest. you smirked at this— reaching for his hips and pulling him unto your lap, simultaneously activating your quirk (vibration).

he moaned breathlessly, back arching to a near perfect crescent. “why’re you crying? I haven’t even put it in yet.

before he could answer, you slid your left hand down his back— slipping your fingers into his pants and pass his already prepared hole.

“you’ve already prepared?” you began vibrating your fingers, repeatedly smashing into his prostate.

“GHAK!! [n—name]! yo—you’re nhgk! so fuhgking deeep!”

“oh? do you not like that?” you began thrusting— adding a third in the process. Shigaraki screamed into your neck, cumming instantly.

“ju—just cuhm, came! s—st—stop! too much!”

you tilted your head to the side, smiling up at the fucked out male. “I thought you wanted this? you killed my girlfriend to take her spot right? well now you have it, all to yourself babyboy.”

Shigaraki’s eyes rolled back, his head following suite. you smiled at him, placing your hand on his back and leaning forward to bite his adams’ apple.

his body convulsed, cumming inside his pants once more. “damn, again? usually [gf/name] can last longer, you know? actually make me nut first.”

you withdrew your fingers from him, pushing him onto the floor. he heaved— gasping for air. his body still shook from his previous three orgasms, twitches of pleasure running circles across his nerves.

you laughed, leaning down to grab him by his throat. he went almost completely limp, only smiling as you brought his tear stained face closer to yours.

“do you want daddy’s cum? want me to fuck your face until you pass out?”

Shigaraki eagerly nodded, hands coming up to grasp and grip at your clothed cock. “wan—wanna make s—sir p—proud.”

you felt your cock twitch at his nature— slutty and submissive, a complete 180 of his public figure: cold, heartless, and brutal. you kissed him, passionately swapping your tongue into his mouth.

“open your mouth.”

he obeyed, sticking his tongue out in the process. you grinned and spit into his mouth, “don’t swallow it.” your fingers gripped his neck, digging into the skin, “understand?”

he convulsed, on the verge of another orgasm.

“fucking slut.” your tone was dipped in laughter, mocking his lustrous appearance. you let go of his neck and moved to your own pants— undoing the jaw strings of your sweatpants and pulling out your cock.

Shigaraki looked on with awe, admiring every vein and bulge that lined your beautiful cock. you jerked yourself once or twice, feeling pleasure instantly fill your mind. you looked at Shigaraki through lidded eyes, smirking inward. “you ever taken a dick this big?”

he looked like a bitch in heat: rubbing his thighs together, panting, drool rolling down his chin, eyes glossy and tear-stained.

you clicked your tongue, motioning him closer. he obliged, moving so that your balls were touching his lips.

you lifted his chin, holding your cock at the base. “is it pretty?” he nodded impatiently, sticking his tongue out to lick your tip. “aht aht.” your slapped him with your shaft. one time on the left side of his face, then once on the right. “answer my question first.”

Shigaraki pouted, trying to connect your cock with his tongue. you rolled your eyes and pulled away, slapping your cock on his tongue instead. he moaned endlessly, trying to fit your tip between his lips. “plu—please [name]! fuck me! pound me until I can’t take it! I’m your slut! I’m your slut! pleasee!”

his desperation was evident, making it difficult to keep your composure. yet, you persisted. “how much do you want it?”

Shigaraki groaned, back arching painfully. you tsk’d and grabbed a handful of his hair, shoving your cock into his throat. he choked, spit running down your balls and up your pubes. you pulled him away, giving him a second to breathe before your shoved him back down, going even further— making him take you to your base.

“how much do you want my seed?” you pulled him off and waited for a response.

through spit and drool, he held up his hands, “I’d kill my own family for it! I’d—I’d—I’d leave all for one and the league of villains just for a taste of you! [name], I’d kill myself for your amazing— he began kissing up and down your shaft— beautiful, hard, thick, glorious— he shoved his face into your balls, sucking the skin skillfully— ghod sihzed purfecet dhick!!”

you took pride in what you could do with your cock, and Shigaraki’s begging only intensified your ego.

you pulled his hair, lifting him to your tip. he used his tongue to align it with his mouth, sinking to the base immediately. you sighed blissfully, letting your head fall back, indulging in all the thoughts of what you would do to ‘the king of villains’

you looked down at him, watching as his slid up and down your length, his tongue lapping over even inch of skin and his cheeks hallow enough to pull your soul out.

“what’s your name, Tomura?”

he slowed, coming to your tip with an echoing pop. spit and precum fell from his mouth in an adulterous fashion, a line of spit still connecting him to your tip.

“[name]’s bitch.”

[answer2jeff]

break-up, make-up.

song : post break-up sex

warnings : fem!reader, porn with some plot, smut, unprotected piv, make-up sex, lip being needy, mentions of alcohol and smoking (tobacco), reader has scumbag friends, sad pathetic banging, intentional lowercase. (lip and reader are 18.)

word count: 3,707

authors note: this is only like my 2nd time writing smut.......

your abdomen felt cold pressed against the marble of your bathroom counter. pulling at the skin of your face, running your fingers through your messy hair, and picking yourself apart in the mirror that doubled as a medicine cabinet. you didn't feel like yourself. you swung the cabinet open, reaching for a hard candy eyeshadow pallet, a black eye pencil so old the label had rubbed off, and a mauve-brownish lip liner.

your phone buzzed against your pocket. you groaned, dropping your products into the sink before snatching it from the depths of your jeans.

773-642-3719: party @ ashleys 2night. u coming? 2:36pm.

it must've been karina. ever since you gave her your number on your break during your waitressing shift at patsy's, she'd been trying to drag you out of the house. you couldn't blame her. mopey from your breakup, picking up as many hours as possible, spending your free time collecting coupons for shopping sprees you'd never go on to spend money you didn't have, she was sick of you ruining the atmosphere everywhere you went.

or, wherever you didn't go, more accurately.

"he's just a guy. just—go fuck someone else! who cares if he's a dick just like him. focus on the task at hand: getting laid," she told you, licking strawberry jam from the tip of her middle finger.

"i'm just gonna miss him more," you sighed, watching the clock tick as your 15 minutes of what was supposed to be relaxing free time, was going to waste.

"*** ******** is not some kind of sex god, okay? the sex was good. you can find good sex anywhere."

"whatever."

he was more than that. he was more than the sex. he was the kisses in the early mornings where you'd wake up with him in your sheets. he was the whispers of 'you're so beautiful,' and 'i love you,' whenever you doubted yourself. he was the shitty jokes and late night walks, splitting cigarettes and dabbling in gossip. he was your best friend.

but he was also the hands that slammed your bedroom door. he was also the alcohol on his breath. he was also the words that told you to 'get your shit together.' he was also the broken promises he could never keep.

but he was more than anything karina saw him as.

i'll be there :) 2:38pm.

773-642-3719: bring some1 cute with u! 2:40pm.

you stared blankly at her text.

👍 2:42pm.

bring someone with me? who the hell would i bring? daniel's working tonight. and he's not cute. well—he's not ugly, but...no. stop. just drop it. you don't need to bring a guy with you. jesus. you don't need anyone. relax.

i'm here. 12:37am.

you knocked about 3 times before a lanky, raven haired boy with puke all over his title fight t-shirt swung the door open. you looked past his shoulder to see a group of familiar faces behind him.

"please tell me that's not h—" a short blonde girl groaned before a redhead, eliza, butted in.

"there she is!" she yelled, calling karina over.

the warm glow of the living room complimented the post-punk rock that rang through the poster filled walls of ashley's house. you were met with waves from your friends. karina beamed and quickly made her way over to the front door to greet you. her chunky sandals boomed against the hardwood floor, her red solo cup nearly falling out of her hand.

"you made it!" she smiled, taking your hand and dragging you into the makeshift frat house, slamming the front door behind you. the atmosphere was uncomfortably warm. probably due to everyone sweating their asses off from drunkenly dancing and grinding on each other.

"uh, yeah—i'm kinda late. sorry."

"fashionably late," she corrected you as you followed her through dozens of other girls and into the kitchen.

you analyzed the space. you knew a couple people here, either from work or highschool, since it was the summer after senior graduation, but there were plenty of girls and guys you'd never seen in your life. for the first time in months, meeting new people was sickening. immediately reaching for the bottle of tito's to help ease your mind, eliza stopped you. she furrowed her strawberry blonde eyebrows at you, shaking her head.

"uh-uh. you're the designated driver, sweetie. we can't have you drunk, too!"

your mouth gaped open in disbelief. were you seriously dragged here just to play babysitter?

"but there's plenty else to do," karina peaked her head out of the kitchen and eyeing a couple of her friends that resided on the couch, beer bottles in hand. you couldn't help but turn your head to look, too.

"mikey's got weed," she pointed to a shirtless brunette, "and i think destiny brought some—fuckin, i don't know, xanax to cool your nerves."

you nodded, lips pulled tight in a painfully neutral expression that read 'okay' and 'fuck you i hope you break every bone in your body and live your life as a spiritless vegetable,' at the same time. your arms were crossed against your chest, your body pretty much caving in at the amount of sheer embarrassment that coursed through you.

"since you're, y'know, kinda losing it," eliza wiped the corner of her mouth where whiskey-soda had been dripping from it, pointing her finger at you. her messy red nail polish on healthy long nails taunted you.

you felt like a wad of pink chewing gum: slammed between teeth and tongue just to be spit out and drenched in spit. but you weren't useless enough to be thrown away. just stuck under a table for some gross, unsanitary bitch to pick it up again and stick it right back in her gossipy mouth. cursing yourself for being here, you stormed out of the kitchen and made your way toward the back porch.

if you left, you'd be a prude. but if you stayed and drank, kissing strangers and making up stories filled with little white lies, you'd be deemed a slut for the rest of the summer. your last choice was to stick around, being that annoying girl who smoked cigarettes outside of the party to freak people out.

and so, you did. you hung around outside, watching people come in and out. occasionally, someone would stop to ask if you were alright, if you wanted a drink, or just someone to talk to. you politely declined every time. almost like you were waiting for some other opportunity to spring up in front of you.

"hey," a voice behind you rasped.

it startled you. it was painfully familiar. so much it made your heart drop to your empty stomach. you turned yourself around, eyes met with blue orbs that stared directly into you.

there he was. lip. your lip.

except he wasn't yours. not here. not now. possibly not ever.

"oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me, gallagher."

your hands grabbed onto the wooden railing of the porch steps. hoisting yourself up, you brushed off any dirt that smeared onto your dark blue jeans. your eyes were glued to the ground as you tried to swiftly move past him the moment you could stand up.

"no, c'mon—" he pleaded, rolling his eyes and following you back into the house. he hadn't had a sip of booze. for once, his mind was completely in the clear.

eliza and karina sat on the kitchen counter, their shoulders pressed together while shared a beer bottle, possibly their 6th or 7th of the night. you seriously wondered what they even talked about. they didn't have much in common other than the fact that they both liked reeking havoc on innocent people. and you.

"did one of you fucking invite him?" you spat, stepping just a foot away from the two of them snatching the beer bottle from karina's hand, you held it tightly in your fist, your fingertips turning pink at the brute force.

"lip? yeah, i did! wait, did you guys break up, or something?" eliza laughed, twirling a red curl around her finger while she gave an obnoxious wave to lip as he stood behind you. he bit the inside of his cheek, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and balled into enraged fists.

your jaw had been nailed to the floor at this point. karina looked down at the ground in shame. she didn't care about your 'healing' or 'getting laid.' all she cared about was stirring shit. it was such a middle school stunt for a 19 year old girl to pull. finally snapping, you slammed the beer bottle onto the ground, watching it shatter into a million pieces. clenching your teeth, you looked back up to see the disturbed expressions on your 'friends' faces. they weren't allowed to make this decision for you. you would decide if and when you were ready to act like a normal fucking person around lip.

a boyfriend wasn't the only thing you lost. you lost a friend, a piece of yourself.

hot tears pricked at your waterline. you spun back around and darted towards the front door. shoving through people, your hands grabbing onto their arms and not-so-gently moving them out of your path. you could feel lip's footsteps behind you, his pathetic whines calling out for your name; calling out for his friend ex-girlfriend.

"hey, would you just fucking talk to me? please?"

you finally stopped, taking a deep breath and letting the salty tears that streamed down your face smudge your mascara before turning to face him. the angry knit of his brows from earlier was gone. his face relaxed, a breath of relief escaping his mouth when he could finally just look at you. he took in the sight of your tears, your swollen lips, your shoulders that tensed under your jacket, the way your jaw trembled when you cried.

"i don't wanna talk," you muttered as you shook your head, "i just—i don't wanna talk here. can we go upstairs, or something?"

you stared back, half of your bottom lip barred behind your teeth, analyzing every inch of him. the way his hair that ended at the middle of his ear had grown a bit too thick, the line that formed between his chin and his lower lip when he frowned, his short eyebrows, how prominent his philtrum was, and his blue eyes that caught your attention the day you met in 10th grade chemistry. you missed the way the top row of his small teeth would beam whenever he laughed.

"yeah," lip nodded, "we don't have to be down here, alright? c'mon," he reached for your hand, tilting his head as he tried to stare into you.

you worried about forgetting the feeling of his hands gently caressing your face, rubbing your back when he held you close, twirling your hair around his fingers, when his palms would indent the plush of your thighs, or when he'd grab onto your waist when you kissed him.

there was no way you'd ever forget now.

"jesus, lip—" you huffed through open-mouthed kisses, your fingertips digging into the flesh of his shoulders. the cold wall against your warm back made you shiver once he tore your shirt off from over your head, along with the jacket he zipped down and gently slipped it off from your arms as he trailed kisses from your jawline to your collarbones.

in the most needy, starved way possible, you tugged at his cotton t-shirt. almost as if he'd read your mind, despite him being on a completely different planet, he pulled away from your mouth and peeled his grey t-shirt off with the same hands that rubbed those fucking circles against your hips the way he always did when he kissed you again.

some things just never changed.

your fingertips pressed against his bare abdomen until they made their way up to his chest. you missed seeing that little triangle tattoo that tyler gave him in the school bathroom. kissing it, tracing your fingernails around the perimeter, occasionally biting and soothing the mark with your lips.

"fuck this stupid party," he scoffed, his hand getting a hold of your chin and tilting your head back up to face him. you looked into him through your lashes, lids low with desire. the look in your eyes ruined him.

"yeah. fuck it."

you glanced at his lips and back into his eyes, just for him to smash his mouth into yours again. it was a mess of teeth and tongue while you entangled your hands in his hair.

"shit—" lip detached himself from your mouth to fill his lungs with hair that smelled like your perfume and sex.

his hands cradled your face so gently it was like you'd break if he ever dared to let go. your hands moved over the groves of his arms and up to his shoulders over and over again, the feeling of soft, supple skin never getting old.

"c'mere, pretty girl," lip breathed against your ear, his hand wrapping your neck gently.

he desperately began sucking and biting the tender skin, coming back to comfort it with pecks and blows of fast, cool air. tuffs of curly blonde hair tickled your jawline every time. his veiny hands roamed down the sides of your torso, never traveling up, until you tried removing your bra yourself. lip shook his head, removing his hands from your hips and reaching behind you to unclip the uncomfortable fabric while you clung to his shoulders for support.

"lip—" you protested, slowly growing impatient.

"i got it, baby," he whispered, kissing your shoulder before carefully slipping the straps over your shoulders and off of your body. that pet name hadn't bounced off of his tongue and rang through your ears in weeks.

once he tossed the bra to the floor, your body relaxed as lip backed away just an inch or two to admire you. he smiled, teeth and all. maybe he really did miss you. your hands rested on his shoulders, slowly backing him up towards the bed of the guest room.

funny. you swore what you and lip had was more than the sex. and it was. you weren't lying about that. but my god, the crave for his skin against yours was unbearable. flashes of your hookups projected over your head. the moans that erupted from you while you tugged on his blonde curls for dear life as he pounded into your weeping cunt—you missed all of it.

"i can't believe you even showed up here," you muttered, using the pads of your fingertips to shove lip onto the soft mattress, silk sheets feeling cold against his back. he glared at you through furrowed brows, propping himself up on his elbows. but his expression softened when he saw you unbuttoning your jeans, zipping the fly down and hastily kicking them off.

"me? you—" he let out a shaky breath, gnawing at the inside of his mouth and sitting up right, "you haven't been out of the house for days."

he stared down at the white lacy underwear you wore, fighting the urge to get up and tear them down your ass until they fell at your ankles.

"and how the hell would you know that?"

you raised your eyebrows, signaling to lip to fall back again so you could reveal the aching bulge in his pants. that same bright smile of excitement made your stomach stir as you were unbuttoning and unzipping the denim that imprisoned his cock.

"been spyin' on you a little bit," he joked, but he wasn't totally kidding. for the past week and a half, he'd been taking 'shortcuts' to get to any destination just so he could briefly stop in front of your place. just to see if you'd ever come out and coincidentally run into him. he even started going to your usual hangout spots to see if you'd turn up.

but you never did. him even going to this party was solely based on the off chance that you might've been here. possibly with a new guy. but you weren't. you were alone. just like he often was.

"how sweet," you teased, tracing the tattoo on his chest. caving into your urges, you tilted your head lower to pet it with a kiss, your eyes closed before trailing your lips back up to his own. he huffed through his nose, laughing at your gesture. it was cute. you were cute. lips hands moved down to your hips, his fingers slipping underneath the waist band of your panties. that little puddle of arousal shining through the white fabric of your thong only egged lip on. he looked into your eyes for permission, not wasting any time to help you remove them the moment you nodded your head.

letting him pull them down the plush of your thighs, you turned just enough where you could slip them past your calf's where they pooled at your feet before finally slipping off onto the floor. a delicate hand reached to pull down the fabric of his boxers, his leaking, pink tip practically making you drool the moment his cock sprung out. the heat and humidity of the room making the thick vein down the side of his length twitch just the slightest. you felt a yearning heat build up in your core as you wiggled your hips closer.

"now," you reached between your thighs to coil your fingers round lip's hardening cock, "i need you to fuck me like you haven't gotten laid in a thousand years."

"that's pretty much what it's felt like." lip mumbled so quietly you barely caught it. he looked up at you, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before he used his thumb to caress your cheek.

"wait, you—you haven't been with anyone else?"

lip paused, realizing he admitted to not seeing a single other person since you broke up. it almost surprised you that you weren't the only one who was sex deprived.

"fuck would that do? bring you back?" he tried to laugh, accidentally gasping at the feeling of your wet cunt brushing past his throbbing dick. you noticed this, smiling back at him and slowly trying to position yourself perfectly.

"well, you have me now."

those words were all it took. with one swift motion, lip finally caught a grip on the fat of your hips, guiding you gently down his cock, your wetness making a makeshift lubricant.

"always so fuckin' wet for me," lip praised, smiling at the sight of how easily he filled you up to the brim of your cervix. watching your face contort from slight discomfort and into full bliss was his fucking kryptonite. you gasped, the immediate stuffed feeling hitting your stomach. lip winced at the tight sensation, already cursing under his raspy breath and whispering incoherent praises. "so—so fuckin' tigh...fu–ck" you gave him some time to adjust, propping your hands behind you so you could grind against him just right.

lip began rolling your hips back and forth, wet sounds of sex filling up the room. whimpers of "fuck, yes lip," and "just like that," only made his sexual frustration worse.

"'missed you so fuckin' much, baby. shit—you make me feel amazing. so, so fuckin' good." his hands dig deeper into your hips, making their way to your ass to squeeze and occasionally slap the flesh. you flinched with a moan, his dick hitting your gummy walls at a slightly different angle each time.

"m—fuck, missed you too, lip. you have no idea," your lungs begged for air, your tits bouncing slightly at the constant movement of your hips as you chased your high. you looked down at him, tears of arousal filling up your hooded eyes. lip marveled at the sight of your pleasure, inching closer and closer to cumming inside of you right then and there—but he had to savor this. grunting

how could he have waited this long to make amends with you? his groans felt like they practically echoed and bounced off of the walls. he needed to focus on your needs tonight. he pried between your crotchets, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing sloppy, rough circles against the bundle of nerves.

"slower, hun," you cooed, moving up and down his cock to keep his tip pounding right into your g-spot every time. the idea of staying quiet had never been this hard—but the music and shouting from downstairs was bound to cover for the two of you. lip nodded his head, slowing down his pace and gently grinding his hips into yours as his thumb remained at work.

after the few moments of pure bliss, moans and cries of lip's name coming from you that he wished would last an eternity, he felt the knot in his stomach tighten. similarly, you started forcefully catching your breath as you stared up at the ceiling. your head went foggy, every word that fell out of your mouth turning into messy gibberish. lip could tell you were close, but he wasn't quite ready to give up.

"i don't think i'm gonna last any longer," lip clenched his teeth, his hand aching from prioritizing your pleasure while his thrusts became sloppier and sloppier. he'd been fucked out without even finishing a single time.

"me neither—"

desperately trying to get a hold of yourself, your body gave out. your thighs began to shake, your cunt contracting. trying to muffle your shrieks, you cupped a hand over your saliva-slick mouth. your hips moved as fast as you could ever dreamed was possible, forcing you to grab onto lip's shoulder blades for support. lip could literally see his dick rolling up and down your stomach as he moaned your name, his eyes screwed shut. finally, just at the very last second, he took every bit of strength left in his body to flip you over, your back pressed against the sheets while you reached your climax. he pulled out with a groan, white ropes of sticky cum coating your lower stomach and the space right under your tits.

makeup sex was not how you envisioned this night would go. but how could you complain?

[ddarker-dreams]

THAT GOJO FIC THOUGH??? an absolute masterpiece and soooo beautifully written. definitely felt super in character for him - equal parts eerie, entitled, and light-hearted? loved loved loved it.

i’m curious (not necessarily a request…unless?) just want to pick your brain about what that relationship between gojo and reader might look like as adults or a few years in the future. does his yandede tendency worsen? does reader ever try to leave or just accept how things are? what, if anything, would anger your interpretation of yan!gojo? how does he keep reader under his thumb for so many years? do others understand what he’s doing and what their relationship truly is? what even is their relationship? haha i’m so sorry i just loved your gojo so much and am foaming at the mouth for any more scraps you may have to offer

THANK YOU VERY MUUUUUUUUUCH there's something about questionable men that turns my pupils into hearts each and every time.

as for your questions, let's see... first and foremost, i've decided that the fic i discussed writing is like the 'baseline' universe with 'it's graduation, isn't it?' being a branching yandere narrative (or AU i guess)?? i came up with a backstory for the darling in IGII and thought it had enough potential to be explored further. so, all this to say that i'm working on the main story right now which will flesh out reader's relationship with shoko, geto, and gojo in particular. this'll give additional context to the relationship gojo and reader have in the yandere fic! for their time in high school, i've decided to split the story into three main arcs, each one taking place during reader's time as a first year, second year, and third year. (i have ideas for post high school-to the present day in when the main events of JJK pick up, but i'll focus on that later).

here's a general overview of the start of the fic. presently, its working title is 'golden girl.'

2005 — reader's first year arc.

takes place primarily from reader's perspective with the occasional shift to omniscient perspective. reader's from another country, so she's unfamiliar with all the politics/bureaucracy in japan's jujutsu scene. in-depth look at her first day at jujutsu tech, her initial impressions of shoko, gojo, and geto. gojo does something that reader views as irresponsible, kickstarting their decades long relationship with reader disliking him 😭

exploring the quintet's dynamic with one another. reader still thinks gojo is annoying, is okay with geto but finds something about him mildly unnerving, gets along best with shoko. gojo has intense 'kindergarden boy pulling the hair of the girl he has a crush on' energy. reader sloooooooowly warms up to him.

reader at this point has a rose-tinted view of jujutsu society. while she isn't ignorant to the reality sorcerers face when going about their jobs, she assumes everyone at the top must get along so everyone can best preserve the public's safety. can't fathom why it'd be any different. as such, the story's tone up until this point has a slice of life-esque vibe.

the first real conflict in this arc comes in the form of an assignment gojo, geto, and reader receive. a zenin sorcerer got whooped on what should've been an easy job, dirtying the family's image. to rectify this, the zenins pester jujutsu tech to send in the heavy artillery (aka gojo and geto) so it looks like the job was so difficult, some of the best sorcerers had to handle it. reader is also requested to join them for reasons that'll be revealed later.

(more under the cut because whewie this got long)

gojo and geto can pretty much see through the petty politics going on. they explain the machinations to reader, who decides to take the assignment serious regardless. gojo in particular is very blasé about the entire thing because one, that big ass ego and two, he's a teen. bad combo.

the assignment itself takes place in an abandoned nursery on the outskirts of nagoya. here, the three encounter the curse 'the caretaker' and its 'little ones.' now it's psychological horror time. gojo's arrogance exacerbated by reader's insistence on following protocol clash bad. the fight ends up not being so simple after all due to the curse's abilities. they eventually realize reader's cursed technique is Suspiciously best suited to work as a counter, but at grave risk and damage to herself. thanks zenins. ultimately, reader pulls it off, but receives heavy injuries in the process. gojo and geto are pissed about this entire thing. character development for the squad that'll play into their themes into adulthood (gojo's wish to upend the higher-ups, geto's disillusionment with jujutsu society, and a secret third thing for reader).

in what will serve as a parallel for post star plasma arc, the three are able to 'overcome' the event enough and grow closer for it. everyone's coping mechanisms kinda sucks but not to the degree it'll suck after the events of post star plasma arc.

reader's like oh boy, that was an eventful first year haha! i sure hope my second year isn't anywhere near as chaotic haha! :)

as for where the narrative would branch into a yandere AU, that'd take place mostly in reader's third year. personally, i think gojo would be a bit of an unhealthy weirdo no matter what in a romantic relationship, but just not to the Full yandere extent. so you'll see him up to some questionable shenanigans even in the main fic.

i apologize, i ended up laser focusing on gojo's relationship with reader so much that i didn't really answer your other questions GJSDKLFS i just feel like the events of the main story will go on to shape yandere and non yandere gojo's behavior with reader enough that without context, it won't make as much sense.

[pubbybutch]

Towers Built, and Towers Falling Down

Medieval AU! Knight Abby x Chubby Princess Reader (Part One)

Minors, Men and general fuckheads DNI please 💚

Content Warnings: It’s pretty much just fluff… reader is thirsty for Abby’s muscles, damsel in distress type shit. No use of Y/N and lots of cutesy nicknames.  

{Yes. This is for me entirely. My chubby gay ass needs love and attention.}

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Stepping out from the door leading into your bed chambers the dim lighting of the corridor makes you blink rapidly as your eyes adjust to the darkness, the large windows on the southward facing wall of your room always let in so much natural light that the contrast between the large openness of the spaces designed for you and your ilk and those of the common folk, the staff and your lover. 

The soft footfall of leather and cloth covered feet followed by the easy swishing of smooth pink and green linens are the only sounds left to fill the winding corridors and stairwells that make up the tight and narrow servant’s passageways of the stone fortress and castle you call home. Ducking around dark corners, with only the light from the slight, almost slit, like windows in the wall at the end of each corridor, you rush as much as your slipper-clad feet will allow without tripping against the long trains and skirts of the gown that fall down from your hips. Coming around the bend, the thin wooden door that leads into the library lies shut.

She should be here. But she’s not.

The minutes you wait grow longer and longer, and an anxious pit begins to form in the depths of your stomach. The black snake of nervousness twists and turns tumultuously with no rest or break to its movements in sight. That is until the door you are leaning on is pulled backwards causing you to fall back with it and into the strong chest of the blonde woman you have been waiting restlessly for.

“Abby!” 

Her large hand instantly clasps over your mouth as she brings her lips next to your ear. 

“Shush, easy princess.”

Her hand lowers to wrap around your waist as you turn around to look up at her, eyes wide as you take her in. You always forget how little of her massive size is armour when on the field or patrolling, wide shoulders carry large muscled arms and frame a firm hardened torso. She’s the perfect parallel to the soft curves and rolls that royal life has thus far afforded you. And Abby loves it.

“I thought you weren’t coming, that perhaps you had forgotten?”

“When you’re involved and our time together is at stake, your highness, I’d sooner be dead than forget.” Her voice exudes sarcasm, and the title sends a smile across your face knowing the nature of her and her often relentless teasing.

“Oh, hush.” The hand you hold against her chest shoves into her, but it makes no difference to her stance.

She pulls your chin up so that her lips can easily collide with yours, as you kiss she takes a tentative step backwards and into the library pulling you with her. An intricately woven tapestry depicting an ancient battle from aeons past with soldiers wielding spears and bows carrying out their assault on a large grotesque creature with many limbs is all that hangs in front of the servant’s entrance. The tapestry acts as the only thing shielding you from anyone or thing in the large tome filled room. 

Large windows allow for light to flood into the room, and with the bright mornings that come as standard for the early summer, slivers of sunbeams cut through the gaps and holes that time had left in the cloth of the tapestry. Breaking away from her lips, almost immediately you miss her chapped lips and their heat against yours, but the new angle allows you to admire your love and admire what you do. The sneaking golden light of the late afternoon that pokes through those holes adds an almost ethereal glow to Abby’s sun kissed skin and freckled cheeks, the loose dirty blonde strands of her hair that have fallen out of her braid turn into a crown around her face as the sun hits it at the perfect angle. Oh how much easier this all would be if that were an actual crown adorning her head, but alas…

A smirk befalls her lips as she removes her hands from your side, and bends to fall into a deep bow

“Well, your highness, if you would be so kind as to join me by the fireplace?” Abby’s forearm is offered to you as you’re left giggling at her antics.

“Why, kind knight! I’d be honoured.” 

Allowing her to lead you over the fur rug that lies on the oak wood floor in front of the seemingly ever-roaring fire, as she moves to get comfortable on the furry mat the position she ends up in can only be described as completely lounging. With her back pressed against the birch chest used to store firewood, her legs spread as she looks up at you from her seated position. “Are you planning on standing there watching me,” A hand pats the space on the rug between her thighs, “or would you rather join me?” 

Instead of answering, you drop to your knees and crawl up into the gap she’d left for you. “Good choice, princess.” Your hands are captured in one of hers, large calloused fingers wrap around the little chubby knuckles and lily-soft fingers all the while her other hand moves to its favourite position on your lower stomach, rubbing against the soft flesh under the layers of rosy linen. 

“I do wish that you’d call me something other than ‘princess’, you know?” you mumble into her neck. 

She laughs, the chuckles causing you to jostle lightly as you lean against her chest, “I know, but even you can’t deny it’s perfectly fitting.” 

Pulling away from her warmth, icy eyes meet with yours and you frown. “True that may be, but it doesn’t pardon or excuse the teasing that comes along with it, Abigail.” 

As her name leaves your mouth a pout subconsciously dons your lips, her gaze flickers downwards at your lips before she pulls you back towards her giving her the opportunity to pepper kisses across your face. 

“Pretty girl, you expect me to not tease you? Even when we both know all too well how preciously adorable you become after such jabs.” 

“Let’s just count ourselves lucky that I haven’t fainted from your jabs, and we haven’t yet had to call upon your father and his expertise.” Your response sends her into a fit of laughter, a heavy heat comes over her cheeks and her already warmth reddened face grows even deeper with colour as she attempts to catch her breath again.

 “Okay, okay, I’ll hold back on my torture, to an extent... That is, I’ll hold back if you’ll give me a kiss.” 

Rolling your eyes you place a singular chaste kiss on her lips before getting up from her lap and stretching, your face scrunching up as you do so and allowing Abby to admire how cute you are, eyes closed and little creases appearing as lines across your skin. She watches contently as you wander away and into the rows of shelves lined with various books.

“Princess, where are you headed off to?” Asking even though she could hear you clearly, moving various books.

“Somewhere…” 

“Do you need any help?” She could hear the confusion in your voice.

“Nope, I’ll manage.”

The crackle of the wood in the fireplace and your footsteps soon were the only sounds to fill the library and Abby sighs, you’re being a lot more self-sufficient than norm-

“Abbyyyy! Help please?” 

Your whines come just as she’d anticipated.

“I’m coming, don’t worry.” As she rounds the corner she sees the cause of whining. There you are halfway up the bookcase with your arm outstretched and one leg hiked much higher than the other a couple of shelves difference between them. You had gotten yourself stuck a full four five in the air. 

She grins at you and your predicament. 

“Has her highness found herself in a bit of an awkward situation?” 

“Abby… it’s not funny. I can’t get down and I can’t reach the book I want.”

She rolls her eyes as she wraps her arms around your upper thighs and takes your full weight onto a single shoulder causing you to squeak above her, allowing her to bend at the knees and have you hop down safely. You don’t think you’ll ever not get warm in the cheeks when you feel how her muscles strain against the soft leather and linens of her casual wear, gods only know what you’d give to see her in a tunic without sleeves or a blouse that’s so thin the curves of her biceps practically burst from the cloth concealing her skin… her soft skin and her hard muscle…

“Which one?” 

Abby’s talking to you and snapping you away from your train of thought.

“Pardon?”

“Which book are you looking for?”

“Oh the new one, ‘Sir Orfeo’ I think it’s called?”

You watch as Abby scales the shelves with far greater skill and agility than you ever could and as she reaches up to the top shelf she grabs a small book, bound in a deep blue leather with engravings on the front cover. 

She drops back down to the ground, book in hand. Abby holds her arm out, “Here you go.” As you reach out to take it from her, she shoots her arm up into the air withholding the book from you by at least 2 feet. 

“Abby. Give me the book.” 

“So demanding? What if I don’t want to give it to you, besides I am the one who was able to actually get it from the shelf. I’ll give your precious book to you when I get my reward.”

You huff an exasperated sigh. “Fine.” You reach on tiptoes to plant a kiss on her cheek. And are thus granted access to your book.

You make your way to the armchair that had, up until this point, remained neglected and although its rather grand size would’ve easily let you both sit on the chair, Abby opts to take a seat on the rug by your feet, resting her head on your thigh. Opening the book you begin to read to yourself and get a full page in before being rudely interrupted.

“I wanna hear too, baby.” 

You begin again from the top of the page.

“Grief filled the air upon the death of the dear wife of the beloved bard, Sir Orfeo. His lute that normally filled the walls of the castle grew silent and abandoned as unhappiness filled his heart instead…”

Neither of you know when you had fallen asleep, Abby drooling onto your dress and hair slightly tussled and you imagine yours is much the same. The fire has been whittled down to embers and the light coming in from the windows is deeply tinted red, the setting of the sun seemingly imminent.

“Abby,” you place a hand in her hair, “you have to get up.” Your movements cause her to stir and wake, instantly she’s up and rushing to her feet and pulling you to yours. She snatched the book from the rug and places it in your hand while grabbing the free one and pulling you to stand up.

Before you can ask what she’s doing she picks you up in her arms and carries you bridal style, back past the bookshelves, behind the tapestry and through the hidden door. She’s relentless as she passes through the corridors and up the stairs leading to the servant’s door to your bed chamber. Setting you down in front of the door she tentatively opens the door and glances inside, deeming it safe enough she proceeds into the room with a hand in yours, leading you.

“Get on the bed, princess.” Still a little tired and in no mood to argue, you do as instructed. Abby’s warm hands fix the quilt and tuck you in. “If anyone asks where were you?” She kneels down to make straight on eye contact with you as she speaks.

“I was in bed, feeling a little bit sick.”

“Good. And if someone asks ‘Do you need the doctor’?” 

“I shake my head, say ‘It’s not serious enough to worry the doctor, but the doctor’s daughter might be free’ and I wait for you.” You follow through with the actions as you give her the memorised spiel.

“Atta girl.” Her hand ruffles your hair, and she stands up and turns to leave through the servant’s door once more. “Abby?” 

“Yes, your highness?” 

“I love you.”

“I know, princess, I know.”

This is my baby, my love child. I love hearing what people think about this stuff so any comments or reblogs are fondly found. 💚

Part 2 is out and on my master list

[pilesofpillows]

Primetime || Okoye x Attuma Oneshot

Read it here on AO3

Summary: Attuma's been in Talokan taking care of business and Okoye misses him. Only one thing to do... at least Mexico has some nice beaches.

Warnings: Smut (18+), NSFW, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Sex, Overstimulation, Squirting, Slight Breeding Kink, PWP

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, so if you hate it 🤷🏾‍♀️ Anyways... I hope you like it!!

Word Count: 3.5k

The ocean was calm tonight.

Quiet and tranquil, with gentle waves lapping at her toes, inviting her into the depths.

She kicked off her sandals, picked up the hem of her dress, and waded further into the surf. She stopped when the water kissed her knees, dropping her dress into the tide. 

“Attuma.” Okoye’s voice was a whisper, but she knew he heard her. He always did.

She waded further out until the water was mid-thigh. He was close; she could feel it. 

“Attuma,” she called again, voice still soft.

Not even a full minute passed before strong arms encircled her waist, pulling her body back against his broad chest. “In yakunaj.” 

Okoye smiled into the night sky, sinking into his embrace. “Sithandwa sam.”

“You are far from home, in K’iino’.” Attuma’s voice was a rumble that moved through her like thunder. She ran her hands along his wet forearms, feeling his corded muscles ripple under her touch.

She hummed and turned in his arms, staring into his dark eyes. He wasn’t wearing his armor, just his shark helm and rebreathers. She caressed his chest, running open palms over the familiar ridges of his scars, and locked her arms behind his head. Okoye pushed up on her toes, so they were face to face, trusting him to hold her up. 

“My home is with you, is it not?” she asked, staring into his dark eyes. The love she saw in them brought a peace she’d lacked in the weeks he’d been gone. “Perhaps my need for you outweighed my patience,” she smirked, shrugging.

Attuma stroked his hands across her bare back, swooping low to rest on her ass. He chuckled low in his throat. “I have been remiss in my duties. My wife should never have need of me.”

Her smirk widened into a full smile, and her heart threatened to burst from her chest at the title. His wife. There was a righteousness in that. Something pure that soothed her soul. 

“And what will you do to rectify your errors?” she asked playfully, massaging the base of his skull.

“Nothing less than what my duty requires,” he answered gruffly, squeezing her behind none-too-gently. 

“My husband is nothing if not dutiful,” she said, huffing a laugh as he scooped under her thighs and wrapped her strong, toned legs around his waist. 

Attuma turned and walked them back toward the shore, settling on a soft grassy knoll away from the sand. The airship she’d commandeered was parked further into the tree line. The moon was their only light, but it was more than enough. 

Okoye sat astride him, tracing random patterns over his shoulders and neck. Her fingers glided over his rebreather, removing it gently after a nod from her husband. Their eyes never left each other as she placed the mask carefully on the ground. His headdress was the next to go, landing softly on the grass next to them. Okoye ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. Attuma’s hands roamed over her body, rubbing wide circles from her thighs, up her hips and waist, around her back, and up to her nearly-bare shoulders before repeating the pattern over and over again. 

They were close, closer than they’d been in nearly a month. Their chests rose and fell in tandem as they breathed each other in. Okoye brought one of her hands from his hair to trace the shape of his face, studying the features already ingrained in her memory. The deep ridge of his brow, the bump in his nose, his full lips. He was a beautiful man. 

He was her beautiful man. 

Okoye inhaled sharply when he nipped at one of her fingers with pointed teeth. He kissed the finger in apology and pressed another kiss into her palm. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on his. Their lips met in a whisper, lightly caressing each other before it grew in intensity. His tongue delved into her mouth, reclaiming that which was already his. He held her tightly, pressing their bodies together until there wasn’t an inch of space between them. Okoye broke their kiss, chest heaving against his as she tried to catch her breath.  

“Did you come all this way to sit on my lap, K’iino’?” Attuma taunted, a breathless whisper across her lips.

“Would you mind if I did?” she whispered back, nudging his nose with her own. 

“No.” His answer was immediate. “I cherish every moment we are together. Without you, my world is dark, devoid of even the stars. When we are apart, I long for you as the desert longs for rain.” He began pressing small kisses to her lips as he spoke. “Your brilliance captivates me. Your beauty entices me. Your passion ignites mine.” Attuma rained kisses down her neck, his grip tightening on her hips as she began to roll them into his. 

Okoye buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as he decorated her neck with love bites.

“You were made for me, crafted by the gods and molded by the stars. Just as I was made for you. Our souls are bound in this world and every other. There will never come a day that I don’t hunger for you. You are mine, Okoye. And I am yours.” 

She moaned his name into the night sky as he sucked a mark on the column of her throat. Her grip on his obsidian waves tightened as she dragged his head away from her neck. 

They stared at each other for a moment, breath mingling in the electrified air. Their next kiss was hard. Tongues and teeth meeting in a fervor that conveyed exactly how desperate she’d been without him. His honeyed words only fanned the flames of her desire.  He yanked the thin straps of her dress down, and she wiggled out of the top half so the dress pooled at her waist, exposing her breasts to the open air. 

Attuma wasted no time. He cupped her breasts and ran his thumbs over her pebbled nipples. Pinching and pulling them until she gasped a curse into his mouth. Her back arched, pushing her chest further into his hands. He pulled back from her lips and stared at his wife. She whined as their lips parted, and he wrapped a firm hand around her neck, preventing her from giving chase. Her eyes were glazed over, unfocused as she ground her hips into him. 

He kissed her swollen lips softly, whispering, “Hush, in yakunaj. I have you.”

Okoye ground down again, moaning at the feel of his arousal through their clothes. She threw her head back, and Attuma ducked his head to her breasts, taking a sensitive peak into his mouth and squeezing her throat with his hand.

Then suction. 

Sweet, sweet suction. 

Okoye was sure she would come undone right here. She felt like she was on fire, and Attuma’s mouth stoked the flames of her passion. She writhed in her husband’s lap as he lavished her breasts with attention. He let go of her throat and palmed the cheeks of her ass, grinding his erection into her core. He nibbled on one stiff nub, forced a cry from her, and she shuddered.

She needed more. “Attuma, please!”

He chuckled, low and dark. “Taj muk'óolal [Patience], K’iino’.”

“I- ah! I have no capacity for patience,” Okoye hissed, fisting her hand in his hair and scoring her nails into the skin of his shoulder. She undulated atop him, grinding to attain the pleasure he denied her. “I have been without you entirely too long for patience.”

Her husband bit the underside of her breast sharply in warning, bruising her hips in his grip as he flipped her onto her back. He loomed over her, arms caging her body as he stared down at her with dark eyes. Smoldering kisses stole her breath as he ground his manhood into her core. Then he was moving down her body, pressing kisses and bites to random bits of flesh. 

Okoye’s nails dug into his shoulders as he sucked a harsh bite into the top of her thigh. 

“Fuck.” She would return to Wakanda covered in evidence of his love.

Attuma licked and sucked at the bite, soothing it with his tongue. “In time, jats'uts. Allow me to worship you first.” 

Okoye could only nod in response as he bunched the wet skirt of her dress up and kneeled between her thighs. She reached up and pulled him into a wanton kiss. 

“Líik'il [Lift],” he commanded, breaking their kiss and tugging at her dress.

She lifted her hips, and he pulled the dress free, tossing it to the side. He groaned at the sight of her blue lace thong, soaked with her own arousal. He leaned down, peppering kisses from her knee to her inner thigh, nuzzling the top of her slit through her panties before descending back down the other leg. 

She opened her mouth to beg or curse him but could only choke out a strangled moan as he covered her mound with his mouth, sucking her in.

“Always so sweet, in yakunaj,” Attuma murmured, licking his lips.

He lapped at her again, swirling the wet lace around her clit. She keened at the sensation, hips bucking into her husband’s mouth. Her hands found their way back to his hair, twisting her fingers in the damp waves. Attuma pulled away, dragging her thong with him. He cast it off to the side, uncaring of where it landed. 

He pushed her thighs apart, forcing her to spread herself before him and grinning at the sight. Attuma ran the pads of his fingers up and down her slit, pressing lightly on her clit. Okoye writhed beneath him, begging sweetly in her mother tongue for more. He didn’t answer, merely pinned her down to devour her sex with focused intensity. 

Attuma drank in her pleasure, greedily moaning at the taste of her. He wanted only the sweetness of her filling his mouth. He pulled her throbbing clit into his mouth, sucking with abandon. His wife mewled and writhed beneath him. He pressed her apart further and increased the pressure on her sweet pearl, fluttering his tongue across the bundle of nerves. 

Okoye sobbed. Her nimble fingers tangled in his hair as he drove her to the cusp of her release. 

“Myeni [Husband],” she begged, breathless, “nceda! [please!]”

Pulling away from her clit, he ran his tongue up her glistening slit, swirling it around her pearl. Sucking it back into his mouth, Attuma grazed it with his teeth. Okoye cried out, a strangled, stuttered shout of his name, and flooded his mouth with her release. He continued his ministrations, hoisting her legs over his shoulders and pressing one, then two fingers into her clenching heat. 

In and out, Attuma worked his wife through her first release before curling his fingers just so, sending her spiraling into another. Her thighs clenched around his head, and she wailed her pleasure to the stars. He removed his mouth from her but didn’t stop the punishing pace of his fingers. 

Attuma surged upward, claiming Okoye’s lips in a bruising kiss. She whimpered into his mouth, tasting the remnants of her essence on his tongue. Her mind was blank, drifting in a blissful state. 

“My precious wife, so wet for me,” he murmured against her lips. “I can feel you tightening around my fingers, in yakunaj. Are you going to come for me again, diosa?”

Okoye let out a needy moan and shuddered, burying her face in his neck. Her hands grasped at him wildly, clutching his shoulders and back while her hips rose to meet his every thrust. All she could feel was him. The strength of his hips between her legs, the raised texture of his scars along his chest and shoulders, the rough rhythm of his fingers driving her to the edge of euphoria. 

“Ko'oten wo'osal [Come for me], Okoye,” Attuma commanded. 

Black spots danced at the edge of her vision as her third climax slammed into her. She keened, her body convulsing on the grass. Her nails scored his back, and Attuma hummed, pleased at the flood of her arousal that dripped down his wrist, pooling on the ground below them. 

He slowed his fingers gradually, easing her down, murmuring sweet words in Mayan, pressing sweeter kisses to her lips.

She whined as he pulled his fingers from her body. “A-Attuma.”

“K’iino’.” He peppered kisses across her face, allowing her to catch her breath.

 Attuma sat back and removed his loincloth, groaning as his wife wrapped a firm hand around his length. She stroked him languidly, pulling him toward her aching center. He hissed as Okoye dragged the tip of his member through her wetness. 

“Yatan,” he growled, squeezing her thighs, “ts'aa in polla ichil. [Put my cock in you]”

“Taj muk'óolal, wíicham,” she teased, throwing his words back in his face. But she had no more inclination to wait than he did. 

Okoye’s breath hitched as Attuma’s cock nudged her clit. She was more than ready to take him, to feel the burning stretch of him as he split her open. Tilting her hips up, she placed the weeping head of his cock at her entrance and locked her legs behind his back. Her arms wound around his neck, and Attuma groaned as he sank into Okoye’s velvet heat. 

He filled her slowly, invading every sense until she could feel nothing but him. Attuma gazed down at the other half of his soul in adoration. Her skin glistened under the pale light of the moon, shining like the earth after Chaac’s blessing. Breathy sighs of pleasure left her lips, a symphony meant only for his ears. Okoye’s eyes fluttered shut as their hips met, overwhelmed with sensation.

“Open your eyes, in yakunaj.”

Okoye blinked dazedly, her eyes unfocused. 

Attuma rocked into her, delighting in her sharp gasp. 

“Open, Okoye.”

She opened her eyes, meeting his heated gaze. Her pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of brown around endless black.

He thrust again, watching as her brows furrowed and her mouth fell open. 

“Have you missed this, in K’iino’?”

He could feel the quiver of her thighs as she tightened around him. Attuma began a shallow rhythm, working his cock inside of her. 

“Have you missed the way your husband’s cock fills you?”

His only answer was a moan as he sped up his thrusts. Attuma unwound Okoye’s arms from his neck, kissing her palms before pinning her wrists above her head. He held them there with one hand, bringing the other to toy with her nipples. His strokes never stopped, withdrawing almost entirely before plunging back in, unrelenting. 

“Have you missed the way I fuck you, in yakunaj?”

Attuma’s hips snapped into hers harshly, punching the breath out of her lungs. Her eyes slammed shut, and she threw her head back, baring the dark expanse of her throat to him. He drove into her with hard, punishing strokes, filling her completely every time. He released her wrists and took hold of her throat.

“No answers for me, hm? Has my wife lost her ability to speak?”

Okoye rode the cusp of delirium, her body feverish. He shifted one of her legs to his shoulder, delving impossibly deeper, and her pleasure rocketed to new heights. 

“Ah! At-Attuma!” She cried his name to the gods, hips bucking as she chased her next release. Her nails scorched trails of fire down his forearms. 

“There you are.” His grin was feral, white teeth glimmering in the dark night. “Cum for me, K’iino’.”

Attuma fucked Okoye through her orgasm, relishing in the sweet feel of her clenching around him. He didn’t give her the chance to come down from her high. Swift and agile like his wayob, Attuma flipped his wife onto her front, pulling her to her knees. 

He plunged back into her, giving no quarter. 

Okoye sobbed, overwhelmed at the feeling of Attuma taking her. He was relentless and thorough, and she knew he wouldn’t stop until he’d had his fill. Or she collapsed from exhaustion. 

She felt him jogging his hips searchingly, seeking that secret place inside her. Realizing what he intended, Okoye scrambled for purchase on the soft grass, pathetically attempting to pull away. She reached back in vain, hoping to stop Attuma’s efforts, but he swatted her hand away and tightened his grip on her hips. 

“At- tuma! Ple- ase! Bast, I can’t!” Okoye panted, breathless from the force of his strokes. 

“You can,” he asserted, still pistoning in and out of her, unfazed by her efforts, “You will. And once you do, I will fill you with my seed until it drips from your body.” 

Okoye could only moan as her back arched further, burying her face in her arms. Her mind was clouded, lost in the haze of ecstasy. Unconsciously, she bore down, rocking back into Attuma, fucking herself on his thick cock.

“Lelo' tuláakal, jats'uts. Ch’aik a ki' janal [That’s it, beautiful. Take your pleasure],” he praised her,  delivering a sharp slap to her ass. 

With a rough snap of his hips, Okoye keened, a bolt of white-hot pleasure racing up her spine as he found what he’d been searching for. She gasped a curse and tried to jerk away, but Attuma maintained his iron grip on her. 

He thrust his cock into her with deadly precision, establishing a brutal rhythm. Every stroke forced a cry from her lips as he fucked her with ruthless purpose. The debauched sound of skin meeting skin and Okoye’s ardent cries created a cacophony that drowned out the gentle sounds of the ocean. 

Attuma’s hand reached between her legs and began rubbing her clit in hard, fast circles. Okoye shrieked and felt every muscle in her body tensing as he propelled her to the edge. He thrust once, twice, and pinched her clit. 

An electrifying shock of blinding pleasure sliced through her, and Okoye screamed.

She thrashed, muscles spasming violently as the dam broke and a gush of wetness poured from her.

Attuma grunted, his thrusts faltering at the feel of her sex clenching around him. He came with a low, guttural groan, spilling into her, filling her with warmth.

Okoye’s body went limp beneath him, her muscles still spasming. He eased his cock from her, soothing her as she whimpered weakly. He grabbed his rebreather and laid down beside her. Attuma hauled Okoye on top of him and began massaging her undoubtedly sore muscles. He hummed a soft tune of relaxation, hoping to soothe her aches. 

Okoye nuzzled into Attuma’s chest, feeling sated and exhausted. She lay on top of him, smiling, warm, and content in his embrace, relaxed by the soft tune he hummed. 

“Have I fulfilled my duties to your satisfaction, in k’iino’?” he asked softly.

Okoye chuckled, hiding her face in his chest. “I’d certainly say so.”

“Good,” he said, and Okoye could hear the smugness in his voice. “I strive to be the best.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “The best, hm?”

“Yes,” he answered simply, running his large hands across her back. “It’s nothing less than what you deserve.”

Okoye froze, tears pricking her eyes. Just when she thought she couldn’t love this stupid shark man anymore, he had to go and say something stupidly sentimental that made her heart soar. She blinked rapidly, fighting the urge to cry. 

“Attuma,” she breathed softly. “You don’t have-”

“I do,” he said firmly. “You are Okoye, daughter of Kioni, General of the Armies of Wakanda, the Most Fearsome Warrior on the surface world. You are the sun that brightens the sky and the other half of my soul. My perfect match in every way. There are not words for all that you deserve, but I will endeavor until my dying breath to be all that you need.”

Okoye cursed softly as the tears she fought fell without her permission. Her husband’s love was overwhelming in the best way. It filled all the holes in her armor and shielded her vulnerable pieces. The world was ruthless, and life could be cruel, but here, in Attuma of Talokan’s arm, there was safety and solace. Here, there was comfort and peace. 

Her overly-sweet husband took off his rebreather, nuzzled her cheek, and kissed away her tears. “Don’t cry, in K’iino’.”

“I can’t help it, you stupid shark. You and your ulwimi olunobusi.”

“My tongue is only honeyed because I’ve drunk from the sweetest source in this world.”

“Yeka!” she cried, covering his mouth with her hand, laughing as he kissed her palm.

He laughed with her, and she cupped his face as they sobered. Okoye stared into her husband’s eyes, stroking his cheek. 

“You are more than I could’ve thought to pray for and more than I ever dared to dream of. I am honored to be your wife and honored to have you as my husband.” She kissed him lovingly and sighed, laying back down on his chest. 

“You’re going to be an amazing father.”

Attuma hummed, savoring her words and the feel of her lips on his. Then her words hit him.

“K’iino’?”

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

All That Glitters

John and Arthur, Lester and Doe, going mano a mano against their greatest foe: 1970s Arkham bureaucracy.

Notes:

The Very Necessary background music for this fic

In honor of Harlan’s latest interview, in which he stated he’d wanted a 1970s gritty cop-show feel for season four.

AO3

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

[FADE IN]

[CAMERA ZOOMING IN OVER NYC; BROWN FILTER ENSURES IT LOOKS RUN-DOWN, DIRTY, MILDLY UPSETTING]

[JOHN]

New York City. My city. A filthier whore than anyone’s ever seen, with crime up her ass and earwax for days. Sewers full of rats. And crime. And then, there’s us.

[ARTHUR]

(muttered) John, what the hell are you doing?

[JOHN]

Shut up. This filthy town would drown in its… filth… if not for the likes of us. We, the heart of this city. We are….

[ZOOM TOWARD THE POLICE STATION’S FRONT DOORS; ELDER ONES DOWN ON THEIR LUCK LIE ON THE SIDEWALK NEARBY, BEGGING FOR BITS OF SANITY]

[DOORS SLAM OPEN, REVEALING OUR PROTAGONISTS: JOHN, A RIDICULOUSLY LARGE MAN IN ILL-FITTING POLYESTER SUIT WHICH IS SORT OF BROWN THOUGH HE WAS GOING FOR YELLOW, AND ARTHUR, A SHORTER MAN IN HUNGOVER BLACK WHO LOOKS LIKE HE’S FORGOTTEN HOW TO LAUGH. BOTH MEN WEAR DARK SUNGLASSES]

[JOHN]

Doe and Lester, Private Eyes.

[ARTHUR]

(moving his head as though rolling his eyes) Do you have to do this every time we walk out of the station?

[JOHN]

This town never knew what hit it. In the depths of depravity—

[ARTHUR]

We got our neighbor’s wheelchair unimpounded. It wasn’t crime, it was petty shit from the—

[JOHN]

—we are all that maintains order, holding back the flood of terror and degenerate… cy!

[ARTHUR]

Degeneracy?

[JOHN]

Shut up. We’re here. (he opens the car door)

[THE CAR: “MARYGOLD,” A 1967 DODGE DART GT CONVERTIBLE, PAINTED SUCH A SHOCKING METALLIC GOLD COLOR THAT IT REFLECTS OFF THE PAVEMENT AND BLINDS ANYBODY WHO LOOKS AT IT]

[JOHN]

That’s my girl.

[ARTHUR]

Why the fuck do you talk to this thing, anyway?

[JOHN]

Just get in. It’s our symbol of justice.

[ARTHUR]

(as he is blind, and clearly has no idea the car is horrifying to look at, he gets in where angels fear to sit) Sure, John.

[JOHN]

(slides over the hood in one smooth leap and gets in the driver’s side) Wherever you are, criminals—

[ARTHUR]

I promise they can’t hear you.

[JOHN]

—whatever you’ve done… we’ll find you out�� and bring you to justice. (begins to make a whch-a-kah whch-a-kah electric bass sound with his mouth)

[ARTHUR]

(smiles fondly, but out his window so John can’t see) Moron.

[CAMERA PULLING AWAY. JOHN’S HOMEMADE SOUND EFFECTS BLEND INTO THE FUNK THEME SONG AS WE RISE ABOVE THE CITY AND THE OPENING SEQUENCE BEGINS]

[TITLE CARD: ALL THAT GLITTERS , TONIGHT ON NBC]

[FADE OUT]

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

Notes:

So this car is NOT the correct era But I saw it With my own two eyes (My phone camera hated it) And, well... this fic was born

[kaitropoli]

"Louise-Marie de Bourbon, dite Mademoiselle de Tours; La fillette aux bulles de savon"

By Pierre Mignard

Oil Painting, 1681.

Château de Versailles.

PORTRAIT SUBJECT

La fillette aux bulles de savon, or the commonly found English title, Girl Blowing Soap Bubbles, is a portrait of innocence during the Franco-Dutch War.

The child shown is Louise-Marie de Bourbon, the daughter of the Sun King, Louis XIV, and his Maîtresse-en-titre, Françoise-Athénaïs de Rochechouart (Madame de Montespan). I'm sorry, I don't know why they popped off with the names like that when they're planning to reuse Marie and Louis fifty times over ptdr. Louise-Marie, affectionately known as Toutou, was an illegitimate birth (1674), later legitimized by her father when she was around two years old. She held the title of Mademoiselle de Tours from then until her untimely death in 1681.

According to sources, Mignard's painting of the six-year-old girl was finished posthumously. But, her innocence is held delicately, frozen in time on canvas.

THEMES OF CHILDHOOD INNOCENCE (TL;DR: YAPANESE)

Mignard's choice to paint Louise-Marie as an actual child was uncommon for the time (even centuries later, believe it or not; maybe not so good examples, but for argument-sake: Louis XV by Hyacinthe Rigaud, Mariana Victoria of Spain by Nicolas de Largillierre, Phillip II, Duke of Orléans, Reagent of France by Largillierre, and Élisabeth Charlotte d'Orléans, "Mademoiselle de Chartres" by Largillierre -- apologies for throwing you strays, man, I'm trying to finish writing this and your children portraits were on the same website next to each other x), as young royalty are painted either as babies (unbreeched/baptize gown) or as tiny adults (fixed in uncomfortable poses and wearing clothes a monarch would), no in between. Here, Louise-Marie is playing with bubbles, her dog jumping towards it, and she looks carefree, still with chubby cheeks of rose. It doesn't help much that children were seen as heirs to the family fortune, especially during a time when parents had multiple kids due to illness (premature death) and bringing in income (need I explain more... *cough cough* coal mines... a bit anachronistic, sorry breaker boys, some other time we'll discuss y'all).

A painting such as this one, showing a realistic human experience from a royal status and that of a child BEING a child, innocence still intact, is quite important, even in today's form. We take childhood for granted, and kids are forced to grow up despite having more rights now than before. It can be a portrait to remind us that innocence is vital (a lack of childhood is detrimental as the experience is needed in order to mature mentally and emotionally when entering the teen and adult stages of life), but also that we as humans weren't so different from back then (sure, you can claim we bathe more than they do despite your husband still not washing his ass, but my heavens, did the thought 'wait, they had bubbles back then' ever occur to you?).

Genuinely, I was going to pull a La Muse Verte (the post where I briefly explained the history of absinthe) and go into the history of bubbles... because you gotta admit, that'd be fun for the both of us. However, delving into the background and theme of this painting became more heartbreaking for me. The bubble idea isn't gone, but it'll be postponed as a full history lesson post (and, yes, Mignard's painting of the immortalized Toutou will be recycled).

FURTHER READING (EXTRA SYMBOLISTIC DETAIL)

Plenty more symbolism is present, but I highly recommend you all check out L'Art en Tête's in-depth article on Mignard's beautiful portrait. I did regurgitate some of the author's points in this because I thought they were brilliant, and you can tell they have an art-history degree, so I'm begging you to go over there for more detail if interested!

[chatgptwritesfanfiction]

Meeting the Greasers

You couldn't help but feel a wave of nervousness wash over you. As a naturally shy person, the thought of meeting a whole group of people at once made your heart race and your palms grow clammy. But with Sodapop by your side, his infectious charm providing a comforting anchor, you mustered the courage to face this new chapter.

The vibrant streets of Tulsa led you to a small park where the Greasers had gathered, their camaraderie evident in their laughter and easy banter. Sodapop's friends, each with their own unique personality and style, formed a close-knit circle that seemed impenetrable at first glance.

As you approached, Sodapop's grip on your shoulders tightened, offering reassurance. "Hey, guys!" he called out, his voice full of excitement. "I want you all to meet someone special. This is (Y/N), my incredible partner."

A chorus of greetings filled the air, but your shyness held you back from fully engaging. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, offering a shy smile in return. The group's vibrant energy made you feel both exhilarated and overwhelmed.

Sodapop, always attuned to your emotions, pulled you gently closer. "It's alright, (Y/N). They're gonna love you, just like I do."

As Ponyboy and Two-Bit approached, their warm smiles put you at ease. Ponyboy, with his youthful innocence, extended a welcoming hand, while Two-Bit offered a playful wink. Their kindness melted away some of your initial anxiety, allowing you to take a small step forward.

Steve and Dally were next, their rough exteriors contrasting with their genuine interest in getting to know you. Steve cracked a joke, and Dally's smirk hinted at a subtle approval. Their acceptance brought a glimmer of confidence to your shy demeanor.

Then came Johnny, the quiet and reserved member of the group. He gave you a small nod, his eyes revealing a depth of understanding. You sensed a kindred spirit in his presence, finding solace in the fact that you weren't alone in your introverted tendencies.

As you stood among them, each member of the Greasers offering their own unique greeting, you felt a sense of belonging starting to take root. Their rough edges hid genuine hearts, and their acceptance chipped away at your shyness.

Sodapop, never one to stay idle, took it upon himself to bridge the gap between you and the rest of the gang. He seamlessly weaved you into conversations, highlighting your strengths, and ensuring your voice was heard amidst the boisterous banter.

Slowly but surely, you started to open up. The shy smiles turned into genuine laughter, the nervous fidgeting transformed into relaxed gestures. It became easier to be yourself, to let your true personality shine.

As the day wore on, the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the park. You found yourself surrounded by a group of people who had become more than just acquaintances—they had become a family.

The Greasers had embraced you, not despite your shyness, but because of it. They saw the quiet strength within you, the beauty in your thoughtful words, and they welcomed you into their tight-knit circle with open arms.

And as you sat there, sharing stories and laughter, you realized that the shyness that once held you back had become a cherished part of who you were. The Greasers had taught you that being true to yourself was the most important thing of all.

In the embrace of the Greasers, your shyness transformed from a burden to a badge of honor. And with Sodapop by your side, supporting and guiding you every step of the way, you knew that together, you could navigate any challenge that came your way.

a/n: i changed the original title because it made me cringe. that's all i have to say except for the fact that tagging is a pain in the ass.

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

What I'm Becoming

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x M!MC (Jensen Valentine)

Rating: T

Warnings: in-depth talk about contamination obsessions/compulsions, therapy, medication, and depression

Word Count: 3681

Summary: The year after book three, Jensen's taken over the diagnostics team. For a few months, things were great. Work was great, his friends were great, things with Bryce were great. That is, until he gets a particular piece of news from his therapist that has him disrupting all his routines, making poor decisions for his health, and starting a slow downward spiral into a pit he has visited one too many times. It clouds his vision more than he's willing to admit, but, maybe, with the help of his loved ones, he can make it back through.

A/N: prefacing by saying that i know the therapy session is not accurate, nor are some of kolleen's behaviors/methods professional or safe; i do not give a shit. i just needed it to progress the plot, accurate or not. also, i know this is a long read, and thank you to anyone who even opens it. i know this is not everyones cup of tea with how much this focuses on jensens ocd, but im very appreciative to any of you who have an interest

title is inspired by "what im becoming" by cage the elephant, so def give that a listen before, during, or after the fic (only if you want ofc)

while i had the idea sitting for a while, thanks go to this ask for making me get off my ass and finish it

~~~

Kolleen was talking, blabbing on about something they were discussing a moment ago but he had lost all interest. He was timing his breaths to every other tick of the clock, thumbs alternatingly tapping on each thigh until they felt even. Teeth clenched tightly, he tried to muscle through the crawling feeling working up his back and far enough that he could feel it in his gums. The room was practically silent other than their chatter yet somehow still too much. He tried taking a drink from his water bottle, the ice cold water grounding him enough to pull him back into the conversation.

She noticed, of course, stopping what she was saying and giving him an up-and-down appraisal.

“What is it?” she asked, knowing how much he hated the niceties and getting straight to the point.

He shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets, then back in his lap, then crossed over his chest to avoid touching the couch. By now, she knew his “I don’t know” shrug meant he didn’t know why everything felt off, not that he didn’t know what felt off in the first place. He was perpetually overstimulated, OCD holding on with a tight grip to all his thoughts and actions, and intrusive thoughts making the worst of appearances. Shocker, he could diagnose the problems just fine, but there wasn’t a cure.

It was never as serious as the bullshit Travis pulled; it never would be. Sure, death wasn’t looming over him, but sometimes it felt scarily enticing. It’d be so much easier if he didn’t have to worry about it at all, didn’t have to spend his only day off in a little office that made him want to vomit. There was never a way for him to just “get better.” He was stuck like this—with this—for the rest of his life, and sometimes that seemed too long.

He had been doing so good. Not perfect by any means, but better than normal. It probably helped that he was taking his meds consistently, but the second she broke the news last session he couldn't bring himself to take them at all. 

The last time he was here they talked about alternatives, other methods and mechanisms to try and relieve some of the stress and pressure while he went through the process of switching to the new prescription she had to put him on. They even talked about how cathartic crying could be and almost, just for a second, he started to laugh. He should probably be concerned that it had been over a decade since he shed a tear, remembering the numbness during the trials, the funeral, and his own near-death, but couldn’t bring himself to. Whether it was just an inability or his own subconscious refusal was none of his business. 

Kolleen had gotten up to collect a pamphlet and a stapled packet of papers from her desk, offering them to him before sitting once again. They were all informational pieces for a range of new antidepressants, from Anafranil to Paxil.

“Usually I’d just pick one myself, but, given your position, I assumed you’d want to take a look through the options.”

He scanned over the papers, reading the bolded headers and at least flipping the pamphlet over.

“Do you want an answer right now?” he asked, knowing he didn’t have the energy to read through any of them.

“No, of course not. Just try to have an idea by next week, or I can just prescribe what I think would work best.”

He nodded at that, folding up the papers and tucking them in the inside pocket of his jacket. They sat in silence for another minute before she let out a small sigh.

“How would you say the withdrawal has been?”

He knew it would have to come up eventually. He was a medical professional himself, for fucks sake—he knew damn well going cold turkey was not the way to come off of them. All things considered, it wasn’t as bad as it could be, only mild nausea here and there and depression manageable so far (if you could count collapsing into bed after every shift as “manageable”).

“Average.” She gave him a look, and he shot it right back. “It’s not severe but it’s not too mild; just sporadic nausea and the expected depression.”

She accepted that after a moment, nodding and jotting something down. “If there is a next time,” she looked up, “I’d appreciate a call or text before you stop taking them.”

“I know,” he replied, unable to feel anything other than guilty. “I didn’t really try to. I just didn’t take the first one…and then the first turned into the next six.”

She nodded understandingly, asking, “Did you think about it again when the symptoms started?”

He only shook his head, watching her, expectedly, writing something down. He took the moment to check the clock, an involuntary, impatient sort of sigh falling from his lips when he saw that they still had a whole twenty minutes left. Yes, he made the appointment, but, fuck, sometimes they could last forever. She had made the recommendation that they start meeting every week during this transition period, and it was making him hate every bit of it even more.

“Have you gotten out at all? With your roommates or Bryce?”

Again, he shook his head, hopelessly adjusting to try and find some comfortable position while touching the least amount of the couch he could. At most, he said hello to the roomies on his way to his room, and at least waved to Bryce a few times in the halls of Edenbrook.

“How about your hobbies? Have you done any cooking, music?”

And this is always where the depression hit him the hardest. He couldn’t remember the last time he took his AirPods out of the case, not opening Spotify in at least a week and eating no more than an energy bar a day.

“Not really, no.”

She nodded understanding, scrawling something out before looking back up to him. 

“That’s going to be your assignment, alright?” she said, point-blank. “Even if it’s just making toast, or listening to a song before bed.”

He nodded. That sounded easy enough. Hell, he didn’t even have to pay attention.

For the first time all meeting, he saw her gaze flick to her watch, taking a breath and clearly thinking over something. After a long minute, she turned to him again.

“Jensen, are you comfortable with me telling you something you don’t want to hear? Or would you rather I wait? I know you like to know our next topic in advance, but if it’s going to be a source of anxiety over the next week, I don’t want to add on more.”

He debated for a long minute. It couldn’t get much worse, but he also knew if she was giving him a heads up, it probably wasn’t great. She knew him well enough by now that he trusted that it was something bad, potentially bad enough to even cause another spiral. 

It couldn’t be as bad as the first time, though, right? The first time when he got his heart broken and lost his only hobby—only point of happiness—all in a month. He barely even remembered the weeks following, lost somewhere between the time spent in bed and in appointments to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him while ignoring the emails from professors and notifications about missing assignments. It could never be that bad, right?

“Go ahead,” he said, maybe against his better judgment, but needing to know if he could handle it or not.

She gave him a beat to reconsider. Reluctantly, she started with, “If the new medication doesn’t work how we plan, and your symptoms don’t improve…” She paused, letting out a sigh and clearly debating on whether she should have even offered the chance or not. “…we’ll likely have to start exposure therapy.”

Nothing. Not a thought went through his brain for a whole minute, quieter than it had ever been.

When he finally came to, all he could do was give her one, short nod, looking anywhere but at her.

“Jensen?” she asked, shifting to the edge of her chair.

“I’m fine,” he interjected before she could go anywhere. “It’s just—again?”

He looked back up at her. Technically, he didn’t have to go, right? He didn’t have to do another three hours a week in a tiny room surrounded by the things that made him want to peel his skin off (and he meant that literally). 

How much would it take for him to get fucking better?

He took a breath, knowing it was the lack of his meds talking. He tried to talk himself out of it, Kolleen giving him a long minute to try and sort it out himself. It took him a moment, but he managed to sort his thoughts for the minutes, breaking it up by things that were going to happen and things that only had a chance of happening. 

“How are you doing?” she asked after a long beat.

He just nodded, taking another breath before answering, “Good. Fine. I’m okay with that.”

She gave him a small, proud grin, settling back in her chair.

It only took them a few moments to finish up after that, Jensen feeling much better and, frankly, pretty damn proud of himself.

Unfortunately, that high didn’t last as long as he hoped it would. He told himself one bus ride would be okay, he would only have to wash one hand. But, what if the seats were open? Wouldn’t it be weird that he was the only one standing? It was the late afternoon on a Tuesday and, though Boston’s public transit was usually bustling, there was too much of a chance that he’d have to sit down, mind already buzzing with the thought of dead skin cells and contaminants and—

His feet started retracting his steps before he could get any further, taking a sharp turn down the route to his apartment.

A long walk later, he took out his keys to the front door, unlocking it and shedding his jacket before he even got it closed again. He pulled the pamphlets from the pocket, tossing it up on one of the hooks and walking straight to his room.

It was dark when he entered; he hadn't bothered to open the curtains that morning. He quickly stripped off his pants next, not letting them touch the floor and tossing them into the hamper in the corner with the rest of his clothes that had been worn outside already. He threw his shirt after it, pulling on a pair of joggers and a hoodie that hadn’t left the house since they'd been washed last. Next, he grabbed the disinfectant spray from the top of his dresser, sending a puff of it over his phone before wiping it off with the designated cloth.

He tossed the papers from his dresser to his desk, not letting them come anywhere near his bed. He was about to sit himself down there before stopping, face feeling particularly oily and knowing his hair would be next to follow.

Instead of falling into bed like he planned, he walked across the hall to the bathroom, washing his hands before coming back to grab another new pair of clothes, and a new set of towels from the closet.

God, when did it get this bad?

He took a quick shower to wash off anything from the outside before collapsing into bed, throwing everything else into the hamper to worry about another day. He managed to grab his laptop from the floor before crawling under the blankets, feeling utterly clean for the first time all day. After turning on some documentary, he pulled the blanket up to his shoulder, letting the mental exhaustion settle in after having to navigate himself to Kolleen’s office, withstand an hour of conversation, then get himself all the way back home. Even thinking about it made him more tired, enough for sleep to take him out in less than twenty minutes.

Hours later, when his slumber came to an abrupt halt, his laptop was still playing through an endless cycle of documentaries, onto one he didn’t recognize by now. Light from the nightstand illuminated that side of the dark room, daylight replaced with a yellow sliver between the curtains from the street light outside. Numbly, he let his hand find its way out of the blanket, tilting the phone screen toward him. He watched it ring for another minute with Bryce’s name displayed on the screen, eventually swiping to decline and letting it thump back onto the nightstand. 

As he pulled the blanket back over his shoulder, it buzzed again. Picking it up, the new message read, “totally spoiling the surprise but i brought you dinner and your front door is locked so,,”

“and don’t pretend you didnt ignore that call on purpose.”

He let out a short, soft sigh. The thought of prying himself out of the covers sounded completely exhausting, walking to the front door nearing on impossible. Faintly, and after pausing his laptop, he could hear Jackie’s voice from her room. He sent her a quick text to let Bryce in, sliding the phone back and pulling the blanket up again.

His eyes weren’t even focused on the screen by the time a blinding bright light spilled in from the hallway. After the room darkened again, there was some rustling and shuffling among Bryce’s greeting, the bed dipping down behind him as he kissed his shoulder then temple. Rubbing his eyes, he could only hope that he could pass it off as tiredness.

Somehow he managed to turn around, feeling a lot like jello or pudding or some other lifeless form of sludge. He let his arms wrap around Bryce, pulling him in for a sleepy sort of hug and burying his face into his neck. He, thankfully, smelled strongly of his stupidly expensive shampoo and soap, roots of his hair still wet from a shower. Bryce let out a content little hum, happily pressing a few kisses along his face before reaching over to click on the nightstand lamp.

“Do you want your dinner now, or wait a little bit?” he asked quietly, thumb gently grazing over his waist after he settled behind him contently.

He let out a feignedly-sleepy hum, letting his head fall back into Bryce’s chest. Even having to get a word out seemed like a herculean task.

Bryce pressed a few more kisses behind his ear and down his shoulder before squeezing him in tight. His hands mindlessly wandered up and down as he rested his chin on top of Jensen’s head.

Ah, shit. Jensen didn’t even know what he did to give it away, but Bryce being this snuggly and this quiet meant he figured that something was off.

Not saying anything at all was probably the way to go; it had worked all those years prior with his mom and other relationships.

In all honesty he didn’t exactly know when it started. He would have to use both hands to count the amount of events that could have triggered it, everything from childhood sickness, to moving to a new country, to the college mental breakdown he liked to describe as “minor.”

College was the first time he had gotten anywhere with his diagnosis, at least. The court-mandated sessions years prior were pretty much bullshit, just making sure he didn’t plan on murdering anybody but having nothing to do with his own wellbeing. 

That was also the first time he had to sit through exposure therapy, hating every goddamn second of it but knowing it would be worth it in the end—because it would just be over with.

But things could never be that simple, could they?

At least, before all this, he could pretend it wasn’t happening. He had it down to an art form, masking all the racing thoughts and uncomfortable situations. Nobody had caught on for years, his mom never picking up a trace and past partners probably not giving enough of a shit to ask. It was easier like that—keeping people at a distance through easy conversation and practiced redirection—and he knew he was giving his friends the same treatment.

But then there was Bryce, always studying him a little too long and caring enough to make sure a round-table question got to him, too. The lingering gazes and smiles somehow managed to fall his way. They melted into something more sincere, more loving, than Jensen had ever seen him give someone else. Bryce’s unfazed, unbothered, completely overconfident attitude simmered down to something heartfelt and genuine for him. 

And what the fuck was he doing to him? He never asked for this, never wanted whatever the fuck this was. Sure, Jensen skipped a few doses here and there, but nothing like this. Bryce wanted something—someone—fun and spontaneous, and, yeah, he said he fell somewhere along the way, fuck knows Jensen did too, but he never signed up for this. Nobody wants to deal with the self-sabotaging fool who decides to quit the only thing keeping him in one piece.

Jensen didn’t even notice Bryce had been talking to him, eyes unfocused and staring somewhere across the room, sickening guilt settling in the bottom of his stomach. He could feel Bryce’s hands warmly wrapped around him, coming undone as he leaned back and gently pulled him by the shoulder. Jensen finally managed to look up at him as he asked, “Jensen, what’s going through your head right now?”

He could only muster an, “I’m sorry,” instead of answering the question. 

What kind of fucked up person could leave him in the dark like this? Jensen hadn’t told him anything, about not taking his meds, about the increased therapy sessions, about any of it. He was supposed to love him—he did—but did he even have the right to say that when there was so much he wasn’t saying?

Bryce gave him a confused little look, and Jensen should’ve started apologizing again. “Sorry for what?” he asked, still with a little smile on his lips.

Jensen managed to sit himself up, putting a little more space between them. He considered his words but wasn’t quite able to make eye contact when he finally got them out. “I’m not taking my meds.” That didn’t seem to clear up any of the confusion on Bryce’s face.

“Okay…?” he answered, clearly knowing that this was a much bigger deal to Jensen than it was to him.

“I have to change my prescription, and I stopped them too fast. I’ve been going to therapy every week now and I can’t even fucking ride the bus and now I might have to start exposure therapy again.”

Bryce considered for a long moment, giving him an understanding nod but still not wiping the confusion from his expression.

“Thank you for telling me,” he answered, but the tone of a question lingered on the end.

Jensen looked up at him for the first time since the start of the conversation. “I should have told you earlier,” he said defiantly, like he was saying exactly what Bryce was thinking.

Bryce only gave him a look. “No?” His hand moved to Jensen’s knee, thumbing over it while continuing, “If you weren’t ready to tell me, you didn’t owe me anything.”

“But I do,” he answered practically before Bryce could finish. “You should’ve been the first person to know. You’ve done so fucking much for me, and you shouldn’t have to deal with all of this shit; you’re already throwing away time you could be spending with friends to sit here and listen to me whine—”

“Hey,” Bryce interrupted with a soft tone, hooking his finger under Jensen’s chin and tilting his head up so their gazes matched. “Jensen, I’m not ‘throwing away’ anything because of you. I’m not obligated to be here, I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I love you.”

And maybe Jensen didn’t deserve that much.

“…But what if you don’t love this version of me?”

Jensen had never seen Bryce’s face fall so fast. He was utterly still for all of a second, looking for something, anything, in Jensen’s eyes that said this was some sort of joke. He tried to start talking a few times, stopping over and over again before finally going with, “Jensen, I have loved every version of you since I met you, and I will love every version of you for the rest of my life.” He didn’t break eye contact the whole time. “I don’t care how bad things get. What matters is how I can help and if I can make any of this easier for you. Nobody could get through this without at least a hiccup, and you sure as hell aren’t magically going to go from point A to point B unscathed.”

Even though it took Jensen a long, endless moment to realize it, Bryce was right. He needed to get out of his own head for long enough to realize that, taking in and replaying every word until Bryce leaned towards him, Jensen nearly tackling him in a hug. Bryce held him, letting him crumble against his shoulder and squeezing as tight as he could. He easily hushed the apologies Jensen mumbled into him.

They stayed like that for longer than either of them would’ve imagined. Jensen felt like a wreck, both worse and better than before, but knowing he was safe enough in Bryce’s arms to let it all go for one breathable moment.

Bryce finally broke the silence, asking, “Would dinner help?”

Jensen let out a shaky breath and nodded. He sat up, stopping Bryce from getting off the bed with a hand on his waist. His other tucked under his jaw and around his neck, pulling their lips against one another in a sweet, slow kiss, all admiration, reverence, affection, and love underneath.

~~~

tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @cariantha @ofmischiefandmedicine @jerzwriter

[nieithryn]

@strcngered:

This had been a long time coming. After years of building tension, seemingly light hearted flirting, and moments that almost held significance, their relationship had finally escalated. When he had been summoned to Maladi's private quarters, the implications of such an invite wasn't lost on Nihl. He tried to remind himself of their ongoing schemes, and that there could be an intention behind this. Whatever conviction the warlord has had all but evaporated the moment they had kissed. That first kiss had quickly led to a second, and then a third. Before either of them had a chance to even think to hesitate, clothes were being all but torn off one another. The night had been glorious, satisfying a need Nihl had suppressed for too long. It felt right to remain in her bed, to fully indulge in the vulnerability of having willingly been stripped of his title. The dawn after had arrived too swiftly, but not without its own delights. As the morning sun crept into the room, Nihl had the pleasure of seeing how it illuminated her figure. The natural red of Maladi's skin tone practically glowed in this early light, a sharp contrast to the dark tattoos marking her body. All of it feels divine, that he got to bask in such a perfect sight. It also reminded Nihl of the previous nights escapades, and the distance between the two became a problem. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Nihl pulls Maladi into his embrace. Nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, he delights in simply getting to touch her again. A part of this came from the abrupt realization of the depth of Nihl's feelings towards the devaronian. The other reason being that pressing his hard cock against her ass brought more relief than simply fantasizing about her. "My little poisoner." He whispers in an affectionate tone of voice. Slowly pressing kisses up her neck, a smirk tugs at his lips once he feels her pulse race. "Much sweeter than such a name would imply."

The night had passed in a way she was...unused to. The comfort of a warm body beside her own was not a feeling she knew much of, Krayt's demands of her had kept her from indulging such a thing more than a scant time or two. Such relations might be allowed by the Sith, encouraged among some, even...but Krayt's spymaster was not a woman who was given to such passions under normal circumstances. She was an outsider among her fellows, in more ways than simply being born off Korriban, and she had no taste for this vice.

Not, that is, until Nihl arrived.

The sunlight crept from her window and across the open floor, over dark clothes shed in impassioned kisses the night before and up sumptuous silken sheets. She felt when the first warm rays caressed her crimson skin, the subtle added heat in her tattoos that sent a small shudder out from her spine.

Within moments, she felt him at her back, and her eyes drifted closed as she focused on the sensations around her. Felt warm breath across her throat, followed moments later by even warmer kisses. His voice at her ear, almost purring the nickname that she had come to treasure hearing.

"The sweetest poisons are frequently the most deadly," she hummed softly, turning a little to offer him more of her throat. No idle gesture...and yet she felt he would hardly need that spelled out. Such offering of weakness was not to be done lightly...not even with those one might profess to love. And yet...such trust was given. Even as a delicate, dainty hand reached back to run through his hair. "You should know that better than most."

[savage-rhi]

For the WIPs, how about Everything, Zen 😘

@seradyn AHHH BIG THANK!!! 💙 I don't have a whole lot done on this one cause I'm still plotting out things, but I do have a little snippet and a summary!

Edit: also adding the song that inspired the story, title and characters

Summary: It is said in the holy book that when Lucifer fell from heaven, he was plunged into the depths of hell and awaits the apocalypse. What if hell wasn't a firey pit of despair, but in fact, living as a human being for all of eternity?

Zen--the most recent reincarnation of Lucifer--after several lifetimes has finally pieced together a way he can break free from the reincarnation cycle. With the aid of Sawyer--a woman with her own troubles and tribulations--Zen seeks the legendary 10 crowns or "horns" of The Beast to return to heaven.

"So," Sawyer let out a sigh. "When this little road trip of ours comes to an end and you go home. What happens next?"

Zen raised a brow and shrugged. If he were more honest with himself, he hadn't thought that much ahead of the game. Not that he'd admit it out loud.

"I suppose I try and break bread with my father," Zen scoffed. He then smirked as another amusing thought came to mind. "Maybe sing kumbaya with Michael while I'm at it. Hell, maybe pops would like a souvenir from--"

He paused and frowned, looking at the inside of the diner trying in vain to find something that popped out. "Bumfuck Montana, or wherever we are right now."

"Bumfuck Montana," Sawyer repeated. She sounded so unimpressed that Zen could feel his pride take a few steps back. "That's original."

"Oh yeah?" Zen smirked. "You think you can do better?"

"I probably could," Sawyer admitted with a grin. "But I don't need Satan on my ass for the next decade or however long I got left."

"Eh," Zen's eyes scanned over Sawyer in a scrutinizing manner. "You don't have much going on there, ass wise. I wouldn't fret."

"Asshole," Sawyer growled under her breath.

"You walked into that I'm afraid." Zen snorted.

Although Sawyer smiled and laughed off his counter, Zen could sense a little more of herself closing off to him. The way her shoulders firmed and the subtle twitch of her fingers against the coffee mug had him uneasy. His therapist from the late 1800s stated such unease from physical tics was due to abandonment issues. He remembered laughing himself to death over that, but admitted perhaps they had been onto something. He hated it when someone pulled away. It demonstrated a dishonesty that infuriated him to the core.

Zen felt eager to verbally rip Sawyer apart, but reminded himself of how fragile her current state of mind was. He gave credit where it was due. She was certainly a phenomenal actor, pretending nothing got under her skin. That was a quality he had come to admire about humans over the centuries. How their resilience was impeccable. He couldn't say the same for himself as he ruminated on his earlier feelings of disgust.

What happened at the truck stop bothered him a great deal, and he wasn't the one who had been assaulted. He may had "saved the day", but the damage had been done. It was clear in Sawyers eyes and the way she had carried herself since then.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Zen murmured.

"Not really," Sawyer replied. Her eyes scanned over the diner, reminding Zen of a meerkat scouting the plains for hyena. "It's not the first time something like that has happened to me. I'll get over it."

He felt the hairs on his neck stand, and blinked a few times as his mind pondered more than it should've on Sawyer's remark.

"You're not alone in your misery. If it's any consolation."

Sawyer's eyes landed on him, sensing a familiarity in his cadence. It took her but a few moments to register the weight. "You too?"

Zen nodded. He sunk further into his seat as he relaxed and stretched. "You seem surprised."

"I didn't think...since you're, you know who, that you'd know what that's like--"

"I've lived many lifetimes. I'm not a stranger to bodily harm of the highest. Be it male or female." He interrupted, offering a small grin to soften the blow of his confession for her sake. Zen felt something akin to shame shortly after, and dismissively waved his right hand. Trying to tell Sawyer without words not to think too hard on anything. He focused on the birds in the parking lot outside the window. Watching them peck at stale leftover french fries someone had tossed.

"I'm sorry," Sawyer softly replied. He didn't have to see her face to tell she felt foolish for whatever assumptions she had held of him.

"It's whatever," Zen shrugged with a grin. He realized how odd that must've looked considering the circumstances, but didn't linger upon it.

Once the birds took off, having their fill, did he look at Sawyer again. He bit the inside of his cheek.

"You don't me owe me your past or anything you've been through, but I do want you to know that so long as we travel together, that won't happen again."

"How can you be certain?"

"I'm not," Zen admitted. "But contrary to popular belief, I keep my word if you'll have it."

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Happy STS, Anna!

Tell me about one to three of your favorite names — be it of a person, a place, a chapter, a whole work. How did you pick them, and what do you love about them?

Bonus: Is there any placeholder name that stuck and made it into a finished thing?

Happy STS on time, Elli! lol

Names, huh.

I love Alaia's name. (Ah-lie-ah) I just think it's really pretty.

I think Nykim's name is fun, for something I pulled outta my ass on the fly and stuck on the page, thinking no one would give a shit about him. (🤣🤣🤣🤣 joke's on me, glad the name wasn't smth exceedingly dumb lol)

And... the title to my second book, I really really like. Fractured Pieces of a Shattered Soul. I used it as a chapter title in shattered dreams, pulling it from some dialogue, and it just fit the structure of my novel naming set up from the first book so now it gets to be both :)

Bonus: Is there any placeholder name that stuck and made it into a finished thing?

Yup. Hidden Depths was a placeholder name that I gave the story at the end of whumptober 22, not wanting to complete the thing without a name but equally so unsure of what I wanted to call it. jokes on me² - it grew on me :)