#small self-loathing man posing as a confident one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sintiva · 2 years ago

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is there someone else..// ∘*n. kento x blackfem!reader

୭̥⋆*｡ summary: pregnancy doesn’t always come easy and when you start second guessing your relationship it only gets harder

୭̥⋆*｡ cw: angst, established relationship, reader and nanami are parents, mentions of cheating, reader lacks confidence, panty kink, male masturbation, fingering, penetrative sex, nanami talks you through sex, cream pie, cock warming, overall nanami is a horny man who misses his sexy pregnant wife 🫶🏽… lmk if i missed anything //wc: 8.9k

୭̥⋆*｡ notes: this is a piece from my old account and i’m reposting it specifically for @eiflawriting cause they so sweetly came in my inbox and almost made me cry😭

your pregnancy came with uncertainties, newfound insecurities and wavering trust in your lovely — what used to be a lovely marriage. it’s something that you despise, something that you constantly worry about. did you look good enough? did you deserve this pregnancy? did you deserve nanami? did you deserve the embarrassment that came with it all?

but you never asked if anybody was deserving of you, you couldn’t find it in you too. the energy to really consider yourself a being worth love and commitment had severely plummeted during your years as a mother; yes! this wasn’t your first.

all these feelings and unanswered questions could only be answered by one person, and that person is the same one who lashed out a couple of nights ago. a fight so unwarranted and negatively focused you got rushed to the hospital, your blood pressure had never been higher and you’ve never felt more alone, but even through all that. he was still there; silently weeping at your side calling his job and telling them someone else would have to step in and take over his duties for a while.

you know you suspected for a real long time, he wasn’t as slick as he posed to be. it wasn’t getting past you, you’d figured it out. you didn’t know how long it had been going on for, but something was happening. there was a sick twist in your marriage dynamic. nanami wasn’t the same, you weren’t as receptive to any feelings, and that was it. you were never in the right of mind to do anything. there was a constant conflict between you and your former self. that heavy weight of self loathe from your former was predestined.

being a mother made life increasingly different — you wouldn’t say hard; it was more so a challenge. you had another being to worry and care for, which resulted in you slipping up on yourself. you lacked the skill to nurture yourself. nanami was there even while you constantly pushed back at him, wedging a fatter gap in between the two of you.

so maybe that’s why you couldn’t blame him for his actions. that’s why you stopped going out with him, it’s why you lost all confidence in yourself. you weren’t enough to keep up with a man of his stature. did you hear those words from him though? no, kento would never berate you. yet it felt like he was everyday, just by that repulsive look of longing that he had on his face.

those kisses he gave you, the pats on your head. his forms of affection had lessened over the last year and you wondered what changed everything. then things started to click. as you did laundry you noticed some things, underwear that didn’t look familiar, but they only came through once a month.

a white substance, the ghost of its outline in the middle. underwear that were too sexy to be yours, too small to fit the mass of weight that you had gained. a perfume on them so strong that you gagged at the smell. a smell you used to like that now made your nose scrunch up and made your stomach flip with unease. you ran to the bathroom that night throwing up what little food you were able to eat that day.

and it was on that terrible friday that you had come to the conclusion. nanami wasn’t happy anymore. he didn’t talk as much anymore, the kisses were light and breathy. the smiles weren’t the same, his smile lines were replaced with worry and regret. but that’s when he left during the day, he’d come back home some nights looking fruitful; full of a youth that you couldn’t reciprocate .

after sobbing for hours, scarfing down ice cream to soothe your sorrow, you'd confront him. right as he turned the knob and stepped foot in the house…

“nami… you’re — you’re cheating on me.” life was still, your baby was upstairs peacefully, sleeping soundly in their crib. crying out was the only thing you could do when you saw the look on his face. “you leave me alone for other women?” you question. listening wasn’t your strongest skill right now. you needed the attention that he wasn’t giving you, you needed to know where things had gone wrong, how life became so pitiful and quiet.

“y/n, what are you talking about?” he pursed his lips. his hand crept up along his abdomen to pull off his usual leopard print tie. it felt awfully tighter. “ is she prettier,” you choke on your words, “i-is she fucking prettier than me, kento?”

“no kids? has herself put together?” your tears sting as they drench the apex of your cheeks. you have to sit down. you see him; a genuine look of shock and confusion written on his face. even though your tears blur your vision you can see his face, stricken with loss, and you hear him trudge across the room. “don’t! don’t come closer to me.” you place a hand on your tummy and stumble back. you’ve hit a wall, figuratively and literally.

could one person throw away a life like this when their significant other has been at their lowest for what’s felt like a millennial? is it possible? you think of the night that you were in the delivery room delivering your first child. he was there beside you the whole fucking time. telling you how good you did, how proud he was of you, and that wasn’t something you weren’t sure you would ever feel again.

care like that was scarce until you met him, but now it wasn’t like that anymore. he didn’t radiate his usual safety; the love wasn’t the same. but here you were tearing yourself down for something that you had no control over. lack of communication has led you here.

the echo of your sobs filled the big two story house. the gray walls now grew discolored. the iron skillet that was once holding sauteed onions burned, a thick wisp of smoke curled around the kitchen, a little of it slipping into the common area. the great chandelier that dangled overhead, the only thing that created distance between you two minus the rug and chocolate couch. even at this distance you still had to look up at him, you still had to meet his eyes, ones that were shaded by his favorite shades

“when’d you stop lovin’ me?” it’s as if a weight sank deep into your stomach. an anchor holding you down from within, a negative force claiming your soul dragging you into the depths of a dark abyss. there was no shore in sight, no light guiding you back to a safe place. a happy place — home.

“y/n? where is this coming from,” you’ve made him uneasy, “where is all this coming from?”

“don’t make me sound crazy,” you suck in a deep breath, you can feel snot bubble out of your nose, and it’s hard to get the right words out, “you don’t even call me princess anymore, don’t kiss me like you used to…”

“it’s like you’re fucking ashamed of me now, kento.”

“none of that is true, y/n… none of it! where is this all coming from?”

you’re aware of his faults. though in comparison to you his are miniscule, faults that couldn’t be attained even if you tried to find them. but one fault that would stay with him for as long as he would live was his need to comfort you, even when you were throwing insults at him.

he’s aware of the droplets of tears that stain your oversized shirt, the tears rolling down the acrylic paint that was now worn from countless washes. the woman sits in a greenland, surrounded by a bunch of computers and its parts. ‘ctrl’, something you have no grasp of. washing away, chipping away. your feet are comforted by a pair of fuzzy socks that he bought for you on your birthday, and he notices how your legs shake. you’re defeated.

“who do you think i’m cheating on you-”, he gestures with his hands and holds onto the back of the couch to stand, making a point, “why would i cheat on the woman who's done so much for me?”

“cause ’m not doing anything for you ‘nymore!” your voice breaks, it cracks and you feel a bubble swell in your throat. pain shoots through your body and something within your head thumps. it starts small but then it grows. its a throb that feels like someone’s holding your brain and squishing it between their fingers like a stress ball; managing their own but amplifying yours. it’s a headache soon turned migraine that gently raps its twisted fists against the confinements of your skull.

“don’t play dumb with me,” the tears don’t stop and they won’t stop, “please- please don’t play dumb with me right now.”

“those underwear that pass through the laundry. they aren’t mine. that’s the fucking problem nanami they’re not mine.” you peer up at the ceiling, too embarrassed to go on. you blink away the tears that are too heavy, further screwing with your vision. the ones that roll down your face too slowly and make a path of their own. slipping into your mouth and dangling at the inner corner of your lips until you swipe them away with your finger.

nanami’s breath begins to quicken, and his hands feel clammy. he doesn’t know exactly what he can say to make this situation any better but he sets his feet to walk over to you. you tremble with each step he takes and you force yourself into another corner. in your mind you’re just thinking, trying to make it make sense and find the timestamp in your relationship when everything went sideways.

when you two started to become distant and when things were no longer tranquil.

you despised him for making you feel so alone. making you feel like you had nowhere to turn and for driving you to insanity. it felt as if you weren’t with anyone’s attention but you always paid attention to others. you just needed him, hopefully how he needed you.

you’re a complete mess, and nanami soaks in it. he looks at you breathing so hard because you’re winded. not only are you carrying a baby but you’re finally confronting him. you’ve had all this bottled up in your brain, and even as you tried to push it to the back it floated right to the surface. today was your breaking point. everything in the house echoed and you could hear a quiet sound drifting from upstairs.

it wasn’t too loud, but it was your mother’s instinct. your ears perked up and tuned into the sound of small wails. the baby. you sniffle once more, and clean your nose, “the baby’s crying.” you whisper on your way out of the kitchen. you refuse to look at him, you refuse. “y/n! the baby can wait, we’re right here in the house.”

he strides up behind you and grabs a hold of your free hand as your first foot lands on the gentle carpeted step. “what is there to talk about, hm?”

“gonna play it off as me being crazy?”

“can you stop and listen, please,” his heart beats unevenly, it’s unnerving. “i still love you.” he whispers. he can feel his own tears begin to brew, he stares at his feet with your arm still in hand, “i still love you, nothing — nothing has changed.”

“i want to be here for you as much as i can, but it’s hard. there’s so much that i wanna do for you, but it’s hard.” he begins, he draws a long breath before continuing, “i’m not cheating on you, i would never cheat on you.”

“the underwear…” he pauses and kind of squeezes your arms tighter. his mouth dries and it feels as if time has stopped, keeping you both trapped in a bubble that has taken the shape of the air around you. “there yours… old ones.”

he admits the embarrassing truth, “not surprised you don’t remember, but there yours from the first pregnancy.” the sudden moment of realization makes you feel nauseous. you have to swallow down. “mine?” you question, face now drooping. your face was no longer tense, you relaxed instantly. that forced arch of your eyebrow and the frown went back to normal. “the hell do you mean they're mine?”

“i use them…when i’m thinking about you.”

“when you’re thinking about me?” you finally fully relax. your breathing has stabilized again. your shoulders relax and follow the pattern of airflow in your body. in through the nose and a steady stream of cool air transpires out your mouth. “why? what do you mean?”

nanami pulls out his coach leather wallet and pulls open the first flap. you notice a similar slightly opaque slot that holds a similar picture. one from the day that you’ll never forget. the day filled of never ending appointments; hair, nails, lashes, and a fitting. it was the day he proposed to you. he had a professional photographer that snapped pics through the whole evening and nanami printed every single photo the next day. he rotated the photos but he never left that pocket empty.

“see this, i miss seeing you smile like this, smiles always been the prettiest, princess.”

“gets me all the time.” he admitted. the stocky man scooped you forward by the waist. “and i don’t want to scare you, but i’ve been craving you real bad lately.”

“wa-wait whadda you mean.” your lips quivered.

“i use them when i need something.”

“something?” the man drags the roughest part of his hand down his face, he could feel the blood rushing to his head. a nervousness tingling through his midsection, sending pricks of energy throughout his body. starting in his knees and curating all of its energy in his heart.

nobody wants you the way nanami does and it’s been proven time and time again. there’s been different levels of intimacy experienced during your guys time as parents, but there’s just one form you both have been deprived of. nanami can’t deny it, but he can’t believe he’s about to say it — admit to his “darkest” secret.

he’ll flip open his wallet when he gets in his car. his gt sports coupe, a pretty bentley with a nice matte gray finish and dark tinted windows. he sits wide legged, looking at the picture that stirs him up everytime. he keeps a stash of underwear folded neatly in his glove box, keeping it nice and tidy. by the time he’s pulling himself out of his pants, he’s already leaking a precious amount of pre. it’s suffocating, too intoxicating thinking about you. he’s been doing this for a while now, you just forced yourself to ignore it, forget it all.

the woman you’ve become, the desire to more and more to you, but control. he has to control himself as he slips your panties around his length. his breathless pants. too think that he’d gotten to this point, using them we had to…

“i use them when i need to cum.”

“wh-when?” you gawk at your husband, because this was the last thing you expected from him. you didn’t expect him to say it outright like that, and this wasn't the truth you had expected to tumble out of his mouth — far from it actually. flipping perfectly in the air but almost toppling over as it reached your ears.

“ever since we’ve had a kid you turn me on more and more.”

“i just want to take care of you and love on you.”

“oh-oh.”

“oh,” he smiles, “does this surprise you? that i want you more than you know?”

“i wasn't expecting that.” you peep, you slouch and place a soft hand on your tummy and nanami follows. “didn’t think your hubby had it in him?”

you're taken back by this sudden confession. his confession, and you don’t know why but it makes you happy. it makes you consider a swarm of new emotions that swirl around you. you think of how you came onto him so cruel, and accusing. you couldn’t. you couldn’t really concentrate either. staring at your husband and you could hear the augment cries coming from your baby's room.

“i don’t feel good.” you sigh, nearly collapsing in his arms. the night you got rushed to the hospital, stress levels through the roof as shown by the slew of machines that you had you connected to. an ivy drip, a thick band wrapped around your arm continuously checking your blood pressure by the hour.

the temperature checks an ultrasound to make sure that they were just the right amount of heartbeats thumping from within your tummy. it was that night that nanami had cried a second time in front of you and all these strangers he didn’t know. it was at this moment that he realized what a strain he’s been putting on you, what the distance between you has created. he realized he needed to take a break, look out for you; tend for you just like how he wanted to. leaving you in your thoughts without that constant reassurance was a vital mistake.

he knew that he was aware of what you needed from him, but sometimes he was scared of giving too much. too scared to flower you in so much love that you’d soon grow exhausted of him.

it’s been a couple weeks since that day. there was no talk about what occurred. weeks of you thinking about that day, vexing yourself with thoughts so cursed. so mentally stipulating that made you wonder if you were the problem this whole time, but this morning would be different. the entire day would be different, things would soon be sorted out.

you stood in your bathroom wrapped in a rose gold silk trobe; your hair is wrapped in a similar towel with a shrew of curls peeking out at the top. you sigh, patting your cheeks to get the full effect of your l’oreal anti aging serum, moisturizer and spf all in one. you smooth the cold cream under your eyes poking at the puffy darkened skin that settled beneath your teary eyes.

the feeling in your body amounts to two words; heavy and tired. you sniffle as you rub the cream in and pick up two under eye gel mask. you always finished your morning routine while your husband was asleep; it was his turn with your alls first born last night so he hadn’t really settled in bed till about two in the morning, so you eased into the bathroom quietly to start the day, careful not to wake him.

you were fluent in your routine; a hot shower, brush your teeth, face care and your usual belly rubs. while the patches underneath your eye supplied ample nutrients to the area you undid a few buttons. from the fifth button down, you let the cool silk drape against the swell of your tummy. you looked in the mirror swiping the bottom of the foggy mirror, because the circle that cleared wasn’t enough to see your stomach.

you found yourself sighing a lot this time around, and crying came a bit too easy during your second pregnancy. it was nothing new. the skin of your tummy became a bit darker, the stretch marks had never gone away from the first and the second pregnancy only brought along more. you looked at the marks. the ones that you had so much trouble finding the beauty in this time around.

after your first child you thought you’d bounce back quickly. it was a real easy pregnancy, you decided on home birth and nanami was with you every step of the way. he supported you through the entire thing, held your hand in his, and he let you squeeze it as tight as you needed. he took the best care of you and he took even better care of his new daughter.

a tear had plopped on your tummy making you look up and blink a couple times to control the stream. if only you could go back to that first time, the excitement. now it’s not to say that you aren’t excited about your second child, you just don’t feel the same. you don’t feel pretty enough, you’re even bigger this time around and going out with nanami makes you insecure. it’s those same thoughts that keep coming back, mangling their way into your brain. impure thoughts that made things between you two awkward.

but you’re thinking about it more. how you two don’t look the same together anymore, your cheeks are chubbier, your thighs squish together and you do this cute little waddle that you didn’t use to do. you’re constantly leaking out your tits, having to buy new clothes and your cravings make you feel like a savage. eating up everything in sight, stuffing your face, leaving behind little crumbs on your lips and cheeks.

the same one’s nanami kisses all the same. he kisses them a lot more now. the same cheeks he squeezes when he’s reassuring you that he still loves you. the ones he pecks when he notices how nervous you get when you two go out, and it feels like all eyes are on you. he’ll never understand the hormones secreted during pregnancy — well pregnancy in women at all, but he knows it’s been taking a heavy toll on you. the exhaustion, self deprecation and the overall lack of confidence. after the “meltdown” he’s truly trying to understand it more.

he hears it behind the heavy frame of your bathroom door. every morning he hears your sniffles. your murmurs, the sound of the toilet paper being ripped from its permeated edges. the constant flow of deep breaths you take before the cycle happens again, and again. again. he hates it, he sits up in the bed cold jewelry chilling his skin, and he sobs. when you cry nanami cries, it hurts him. he can hear you huffing and ultimately breaking down every morning. he wishes that he could do more for you, he wants to instill in you that nothing has changed between you two at all. you're just muturing, you’ve become a mother and with that you're destined to change. he can only say that so many times though.

one too many times and you’re snapping at him, or you’re crying in his arms. soft, patters of tears dropping onto his chest, but you always melt into the warmth of his body. then you have those times where you’re always swooning over him. specifically when he’s holding your sweet little girl, cradling her head so sweetly even in the swole muscle of his arm. you’d look at nanami and wonder if he had a kid.

he’s been looking the same over the years. he held a steady job at a big accounting firm; first starting as a regular accountant then working his way up to the most prestige of positions. a ceo of a well renowned firm based in the heart of tampa. since the birth of your child back in december he hasn’t been working much and you appreciate it. you’ve been a stay at home mom ever since his big promotion, and truth be told nanami doesn’t want you working at all. ever since what happened recently he took a long — well deserved “vacation” to stay home with you and prepare for your second child.

but it still makes you jealous like when he goes into your local cafe and he gets those stares from baristas, sometimes they give him extra items free of charge. he didn’t look like he had a kid, for all they knew he could be a single man getting his usual office treats. no one really bothered to look at rings anymore, he had a gold band that he wore proudly on his finger. the man never took it off even though you both had matching ring tattoos that had the date you two got married and the day he proposed in roman numerals wrapped around your all’s fingers.

you didn’t get those same kind stares, it felt like everyone looked at you in disgust. sometimes you’d come out bare faced with baggy clothes because that’s all you had the energy for. you had tons of maternity clothes but nothing uplifted your spirits. you considered this second pregnancy the absolute worst. it was so hard, you just weren’t the same.

you used to glow, a really pretty gold sheen always casted your cheeks when you were younger. you used to be a frequent gym babe with nanami. during a real good time you were a well-known gym and cooking influencer. yet age and children crept on you, halting that hobby of yours. you just couldn’t stop thinking about the past couldyou?

the tears just wouldn’t stop

nanami walked into the bathroom as soon as you started peeling off the eye mask, making you jump back. “n-nami.” you squealed, feigning a fake smile for your loving husband. he pressed a kiss to your lips, but he still held a sharp look on his face. his eyes were droopy and he too had dark under eye bags. one’s that matched yours and held a story similar to yours.

“you’ve been crying, princess— again.” he stood beside you in the mirror and looked down at you. “n-no! i haven’t.”

“don’t lie to my right now,” he shuts the door, “now talk.”

“i’m just tired kento, i’m tired of not being perfect. i’m tired of being fucking pregnant. i’m not the same anymore, you see it. i know you must be tired of having to take care of me like a chi-“

he scoops you up and plops your butt right down on the edge of the bathroom counter. he cages you in and gives you a look of warning. one that begs you not to say anymore. it hurts. “stop it, really. you shouldn’t be thinking like that.”

“and you know we never talked after that day,” he lightly unraveled the towel from off of your head, “and i think we should.”

“sometimes i wonder if i should blame myself mo-“

“don’t,” you give him a light laugh, “blame the hormones okay?”

“gotta blame me too, gotta love on my lady a tad bit more.”

your hair has taken a light form of the towel and he giggles his ass off as he tries to ruffle out your curls. you feel your body warm at the slightest touch of affection. it was this form of intimacy that you never got enough of, but you — you had an endless supply. nurturing your daughter and the little kiddo to be inside you.

“i don’t know nanami, i just want to make sure i’m doing good,” you sigh, “you don’t have to baby me.”

“but i’m not, i need to make sure you’re okay. i need you to be okay. i need you to talk to me when you think things are fucked up.”

“i just want — i need your attention more, and not in that way. i need you to tell me when you need me, and i’ll try my best to do the same.”

“mhm you got me,’ he giggled and looked at himself in the mirror before his eyes moved to the half open robe. “what if i told you i needed you right now?’ he hummed.

“don’t play like that,” you balled up your fist and landed playful hits against his chest. he lightly stopped your barrage of petty hits and brought your arms up to dangle around his neck. though you had to raise off your butt to do so.

“i’m not.”

he picked you up, carefully making sure that your tummy was protected as he waddled with you to open the door and over to the bed. you’re not sure if it was the lack of intimacy you two had been engagaing in during the past couple of months, but you were already getting wet. he was always gentle with you, talking you through things and making sure you were okay. the fact that he could lift you up even with all this extra baby weight was astonishing.

it was the same for him. he had his needs, your sex drive had been insanely low, hence another reason why your confidence was dipping. a man without sex, could be considered a lion starved — but that wasn’t him though. nanami was content with what he had, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t aching for sex — clearly. but it’s a bonus when taking care of you.

it’s something he’s been itching for. you feel a big bulge against your ass, and you can’t help but feel so upset for making him wait so long. “ ‘m sorry, nami.” you truly are. you feel as if it’s your fault that he resorted to his newfound “kink”. getting off in your panties thinking of you instead. you’ll always blame yourself, but he doesn’t.

your eyes and inner nose begin to sting as you hold back more tears, “sorry for making you wait so long,” he shushes you and rest his head on the top of yours as he carefully sets you down on the soft sheets. “stop it,” he mumbled. he juggled his next few words as he stared at the family picture that sat ontop of your shared mahogany dresser. his eyes darted to the 85” tv across the room. the mini “samsung'' sequence bouncing around the screen until it fit perfectly into the left edge.

“you owe me nothing,” his lips rested against your hair, “you’re perfect.”

“perfect for me,” his stomach ached as he continued, “perfect partner.” you started to lean back on the bed, maple irises fleeting up to his own. his eyes told a story; filled with love and compassion.

“and a perfect little momma, don’t forget that m’kay?” he slid his thigh up right in between your legs and laid you back on the bed. he was big, taller and broader than you were, it often made you forget. he clasped your hands together over your head, fitting his own within them. he was right on top of you. there was a pattern between your legs, one of his own on the outside of your left thigh and his other was pressing right against your pussy.

his knee gently rubbed against it, the cloth of his pajama pants was soft against the thin cotton of your panties. you hummed in delight and squeezed your eyes shit. the sting of tears returned. you could feel them ready to run over your cheeks and race down onto the sheets. nanami mentally cursed himself for being so hard right now, especially in a space where you got so vulnerable for him, but he just couldn’t help it.

you constantly brushed off sex, you didn’t think you were pretty enough. you reminded yourself over and over that you let yourself go, and that he didn’t need to belittle himself for the likes of you. “kento.” you whimpered.

“you don’t have to do this for me,” you scrunch your face, driven uncomfortable by the tears that ran down the sides of your face trickling into your hair and beading off into the sheets, “ i don’t… i don’t look good right now.”

you don’t have the will to stare back at him, you look down at the space in between you. you see his bulge. his cock leaves a perfect swell in his pants that he has to adjust. he cups his hands around it and shifts it a little bit to calm himself down. “don’t keep saying that,” he mutters, “ you’re so pretty, princess.” his golden locks tickle the skin of your forehead as he leans down.

his nose grazes your forehead and he travels further south, leaving wet kisses along your cheeks and all over the tip of your nose. you feel a gentle tugging at your robe, as he situates his hand around the bottom flap of the robe, he nudges his knee a bit harder against your weeping cunny. those vile feelings of self loathing didn’t stop your pussy from dripping at his sweet words of affirmation.

they spilled from his lips so sweetly and soundly that it made you ache all over. some of that ache was way too concentrated and made you throb right in your core.

“who’s my pretty girl,” he rasped. he propped his body up by lanting his palms flat against the mattress. he grounded himself. being this close to you was his sanctuary and gave him a peace of mind. you felt something in your heart that you hadn’t felt in a while. he touched you with ease, like you were fragile. touches so soft, careful not to break you.

“don’t wanna say it,” you cover your eyes with your hands, the small limbs shaking with nervousness, “don’t want to.” you sniffle.

“don’t be so shy, baby. whose my pretty girl.” it comes out as a deep groan, almost carnal. he begins to spiral on top of you slowly. on an impulse he begins to slowly bend his arms. he’s hovering over a litte bit, he nips at your bottom lip. he sucks on it, wraps his own lips around the fat of it.

your lips are minty against his tongue, and he continues to lower himself. he's even more careful. he doesn’t drop his weight on your tummy but he blocks your view of the area that once contained space. a quiet moan escapes.

nanami’s hips are slowly rutting, he’s pushing his bulge into your heat. that simple action makes your heart rate increase. it’s got you really thinking, the gears in your head turn. even like this you still get him so hard, you can still make him groan into your mouth. he still gets you hot in the face. “come on, baby,” he releases his lip with a pop, “tell me what i wanna hear.”

“i-i’m your,” you can’t rid the string of moans that come out of your lips when he circles his bulge against your puffy clit, “pretty girl — ‘mm your pretty girl.” you moan out entirely too breathless. a couple hot circles against your clit and your body slightly trembles. your breath heightens and you can feel a certain feeling growing in your tummy.

hot and warm. comforting and bubbly

“ ‘s too much ken-!” you squeal out. he pushes into you harder. you can feel his outline, it’s hot as it twitches against your clit. he hates to drag, but he’s dragging himself against you. he’d hate to cum first but it’s been months since he’s had you like this. it’s been so long since the last time he could bring you to a certain bliss; a feeling so high you couldn’t even speak.

your clenching so hardly around nothing. you ball up your fist to your sides, joining nanami in the dry fucking. he plants his left elbow to the bed and falls to your side. smiling and too horny off the thought of you so full of life, tummy swell and eyes squeezed shut as you basically fucked the air.

you both need it, that one thing that will make you both feel whole again. that one thing that you both haven’t reached together in a long time, because fucking wasn’t easy. having sex was a task that you didn’t want to face with nananmi, not after you’ve been moping and feeling like shit. you just didn’t think you deserved it.

this was the morning you were gonna get it though. it was the morning that you decided it was okay to enjoy your pleasure, it was a morning like no other where nanami really praised you made sure you were okay. he’ll never fully understand you, but today those hormones in you didnt release too much. it’s like the estrogen and progesterone gave you a tiny break. the tears were still there but it wasn’t so bad.

“why’d you stop.” you mumble. your lashes are full and heavy, sticking together by the wet fiber of your tears. “ i wanna be inside you.”

his index and middle finger twirl atop the swell of your stomach. he traces them down the line that separates your stomach in two half spheres. “need you to lay on your side,” he runs his hand through his hair, “can you do that for me?”

his hand smooths over your legs as he helps you flip over. you huff as you begin to turn to your side. “this ain’t easy, you know.” he chuckles smoothly, one that transcends right from his gut, “i know, that’s why i’m trying to help,” you end up on your side after feeling comfy, “it’s nice to see you like this.”

“like what,” you breathe out, “beside me like this — it’s been a while” he presses into your skin. your body shivers from his ghostlike touch, and airy words. they’re light and delicate, pulling you into a deep trance.

he grabs a pillow and gives it to you, placing a small half of it underneath you as he gently picks you up. “let me know if it gets uncomfortable okay?” you give him a hurried nod, kindly rubbing your thighs together as you wait for him to make the first move. it’s been so long you don’t know what to do and you don’t know exactly what you want but he does. he’s been patiently waiting for this. the tips of his fingers lightly graze against the smooth heat of your skin. he nestles up right behind you and whispers gentle praise and reassurance.

“gonna be real gentle okay, gonna make you so full, but i’ll fuck you nice and slow.” his fingers start at your shoulder blades and glide down your arm. you quiver gently and rub your ass back against his bulge, “is that okay?”

you hum in response, already drooling from his touch. he continues further down; up and over your full hips and down to your thighs. his fingers nearly skate across them; they glow from the shea butter that you always rub into your skin. “that tickles.” you whine. “does it?”

his right hand travels up over the curve of your top thigh and he easily slips his around to your front. he uses his fingers to feel at the fat of your folds, he starts with your clit and makes his way further down. you're comfortable, warm as he plays with the now soaked cotton of your panties.

his fingers smoothly play with the fabric, you bring his free arm down and grip onto it. too overcome with pleasure, thinking about how you haven’t been touched in so long. thinking back on the last time you yourself even let an ounce of pleasure take you over. “keep doing that.” you whimper, subtly squeezing your thighs together to trap his hand against your pussy.

“missed this pussy.” he groaned. he lifted the cotton, swooning over the slick that stuck to your panties. he dipped his fingers in first, preparing you for penetration. he’s thinking about how it’s been so full since he’s stuffed you full with his cock, but he knows he has to be gentle. he has to loosen up first. starting with everything; all the stress, all the uncertainties. his fingers slip between your folds, gathering your slick before he carefully pushes them in. one finger at a time he starts with his index.

your gummy walls swallow it up, but there’s a slight burn. this intrusion that you haven’t felt in months makes you shiver, has you moaning against a spare pillow. he scoots closer behind you, letting his bulge poke into your ass, “it’s a little tight.” he whispers.

“need you to relax, need you to let me in.”

your pussy flutters, “ ‘m tryin’.”

you forgot what it felt like so you don’t know how to respond. his index curls inside of you, which has you breathing even harder and interrupts your quest of relaxing, but you know it should be simple. you take a few deep breaths, some interrupted by his eager fingers. “almost there.” he mumbles. you continue. you cycle your breaths careful not to intake too much and really let it all out.

there’s a steady pulse that you can both feel, the subtle gaping of your hole as he slips his middle finger inside. “good girl.” he smirks. he’s eager, slowly humping your ass, getting that stimulation for his tip that he needs. you’re too engrossed with the pleasure in between your legs that you don’t notice it. “i think you’re ready, princess.” his excuse to stuff you full, because he simply can not wait to take you

he shuffles behind you still letting his fingers enjoy your sticky heat. the cotton of his sleep pants are nearly soaked, his tip leaked so much and it didn’t help that he woke up horny. not at all. his cock sprung free, heavily sliding against the silk that halted the view of your ass. he folded up that last flap; the robe now covered only the upper half of your body. he pulls his fingers out, rubbing the tips together to feel our slick between them. the delicate substance is thick and clear, and such a pretty fucking sight.

his right hand falls to the cusp of your right knee, slowly lifting the weak limb to allow him access. he holds you up, you can feel his hand squeezing the fat of your thigh; the best for leverage. he was drunk. drunk off your moans and your essence. “let me know if it hurts okay? tell me if it’s too much.”

you nod and wait, you wait patiently for a feeling you’ve grown foreign too. you hold onto your sheets the material folding under your grasp as you feel his bulbous tip poke and prod at your entrance. the fat mushroom tip that blushes a dark red, keen and anxious to stuff you up. he slips it in oozing a crazy amount of precum as he rubs against your gummy walls, and he continues to push.

he’s making you take his shape, since your pussy hasn’t been fitted around it in so long. your nails dig into the bony build of his hand, and you're clamping down too hard, eager to not let anything in. “almost in, princess…”

“i don’t — don’t remember it being this big,” you whimper; clutching onto his hand even tighter, “feels like ‘m gonna break.”

“ah fuckkk. you won’t break, baby. promise.”

“just gotta relax, let me show you how much i missed you.”

nanami draws his hips back and sheathes himself inside. his cock gives you a nice filling, his tip pokes at the sensitive area that settles all the way in the back. grazing against the sensitive skin making you squeal as he guides himself in as far as his hips would allow. those same fingertips now pressed into the fat of your hip. giving him another outlet to release the pressure that formed deep in his stomach.

his thrust were slow, sure to keep you comfy and to issue a welcoming pressure in your core. he didn’t wanna snap or lose control, but it felt like he was digging something out of you. his heaviness dragged inside of you so well and he could feel your insides readjusting to his shape with each deep thrust of his hips.

they slammed against your ass, the firm build of his groin filled the room with a slow clap. he scooted himself down, letting his body move down the back of your own so he could angle his hips up to soothe that spongy, sweet spot inside that nobody has pleasured in so long. “gonna be okay if i go a little faster.” he pistons his hip up at an angle, but he doesn’t sheathe himself all the way in. he misses your cervix by about a centimeter; careful not to evoke too much pain.

“mhm.” you whimper. slightly throwing your hips back and grinding in a half assed circle. “just like that,” he groans, taking a hand full of your waist in his right as he sharpens his thrust with a bit of speed, “a little faster so it feels better. you’re taking me so well, baby.”

“missed this pussy so much.” he swallows; his breath fans across the expanse of your back. you shiver. “it missed you too.” you tremble, latching onto the pillow. his lips are warm as he leaves a trail of kisses down the spine of your back. it’s been a short amount of time, the soft, simple fucking. the press of his abs along the comforting fat of your ass. he swears he’ll cum in any moment. at any moment he’ll be pumping a thick load into your tight cunny, drenching your walls. marking what’s his, stuffing you full of white.

you’re sucking him in too deep, pulling him in deeper. his strokes have a fever to them that you missed. you feel everything, the divet from his tip, you feel it pressing so harshly against your walls. you want to whine, cry about how it hurst, but it feels so fucking good to have your husband inside you again. it feels way too good to get a filling of his cock again; hot and numbing. you throb uncontrollably around him.

nanami sits at the perfect position to fuck into your g-spot. it feels like there’s no room to fit. “nam-namiii,” you whimper, “it feels like ‘m bout to cum.”

“already, princess? i can feel you squeezing… does it feel that good?” he smirks, furrowing his brow as he does the inevitable. his strokes become a little harder; he makes the squelching sound surround you both and he picks up your thigh to make his thrust really reach deep. “cum, baby. cum on this cock — need to feel it so bad.” you can feel him weighing down on your clit.

the bundle of nerves aches with desperation. he stretches you out, separates your folds so that his length hits on it just a little bit, but all the pleasure is up against that spongy spot in your pussy. you try tp cover your mouth, your eyes roll into the back of your head as he times his thrust with your clenching. you’re not slipping up, you refuse to let him go so he can’t stop himself from fucking you.

your wetness drips out onto the sheets, pooling up in the space beneath your legs. as he times his thrust, you slowly begin to tremble and squeeze your thighs shut. “cummin’... nami m’cummin’.” you groan. he tries to speak, but he can’t get anything out. your toes curl as you shake in his grasp. you cum hard, your cunny sucks him into your deepest parts. the way your pussy has him wrapped around your finger is crazy, the way you tighten around him as you ride out his orgasm tips him over the edge. the tightness of your walls milks his cock and all it has to give.

“good — did so good for me, milking daddy’s cock.” it comes out hoarse and airy. he can’t understand the surge of pleasure that sears through him. he just feels his balls twitch as he releases his cum, hot and sticking perfectly to your delicate insides. even when you’ve milked him for all he’s got his abs still twitch. his dick still pulses inside trying to shoot some more cum out, but there’s nothing. “missed daddy’s cock.” you moan out.

he wraps you up in his arms after you both came down from an incredible high, but he keeps himself nestled inside. he missed this type of warmth and he didn’t want it taken from him too soon. but keeping himself inside arouses him all the more, but he can contain it. for your sake he’d promise he’d go easy on you. “thank you, princess.”

“don’t thank me, silly.” you slightly turn your body back and squeeze his cheek. “it just feels like i fell in love with you all over again.” he smiles.

“don’t make me cry,” you giggle, “you know how easy it is to make me cry.”

“i know, let’s just lay like this for a little while. this okay?”

“mhm, it’s perfect.”

#nanami kento #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x reader smut #nanami kento smut #nanami x black!reader #nanami angst #jjk smut #jjk angst

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itsallmightbitch · 5 years ago

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Covert Ops For Dummies (Part 2)

I hope you’re all excited, because the skinny scarecrow man is back and is making panties drop all over the place.

Pairing: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut and swearing. Par for the course with me, kids.

Word Count: 12211, give or take.

Summary: After your little tryst in the closet a week ago, Toshinori has been avoiding you. Hizashi is eager to make back some of the money he lost and you know just how he can help you.

*once again this gif isn’t mine but is oddly appropriate....

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It had been a week since the ‘incident’ in the closet and so far, Toshinori had been… well. If you were honest, you had no idea how he’d been.

He’d been avoiding you.

You weren’t really taking it to heart. At least, not anymore. The first night, yeah, you’d been stuck in your own head, wondering if maybe you’d done something wrong or if you’d been too forward. But the more you’d dwelt on it, the more you had started to realise that this was his thing to work through- not yours.

He could barely meet your eye across the room at the next teacher’s meeting and when he eventually did, his face had instantly bloomed red and he’d choked out some terrible excuse in order to run off early.

You might have been offended if you had thinner skin.

Thankfully, you guessed that it wasn’t your fault that he was acting the way he was. Despite all those little whispered things in the closet, the cold light of day had made him panic. Years of hating himself for being what he saw as weak, his failing health and self-loathing when he was what you’d affectionately dubbed as ‘Small’ Might… that wasn’t going to go away because he’d fingered you in a closet and you’d told him he was still pretty.

It had been silly of you to even consider it.

The long process of getting home after the event had given his brain time to work and time to freak out. Getting past those reporters, the police, the very thankful parents- all of whom wanted to stop him, talk to him, shake his hand.

You just knew that during that, he’d somehow come to the conclusion that what had happened between you was simply you feeling sorry for him and that any affection or attraction you’d shown him was the result of pity.

Pfft, as if.

For God’s sake, you felt sorry for Hizashi after he’d been wrangled out of his money but you weren’t planning on visiting that closet again any time soon.

Like a gentleman, he’d walked you to your car afterwards but even before you’d registered the cogs turning in that big ol’ brain of his, he was making his excuses and blasting off like he was Team fucking Rocket.

So much for dragging him back to your place. You’d watched him go, your mind a jumbled mess of want, hurt and longing.

All of those feelings had ultimately led you here, doing something that you wouldn’t normally ever consider doing. Although, you’d never really considered getting it on in a closet of a strange house before either so…

After you’d given him a brief outline of your plan, and he’d stopped laughing at you, Hizashi had been all too eager to make back some of the money he’d lost to Aizawa. It didn’t take much convincing for him to bend the rules a little. You’d sent him off on his merry way with a few Out of Bounds signs and instructions to get Toshinori up to his office by any means necessary.

His office was nice, you decided as you waited patiently on the couch.

He had an adorable amount of All Might paraphernalia littered around and an American flag was pinned proudly on the wall- next to several framed photos of him shaking hands with other celebrities. But that was nothing compared to his desk.

It made you feel all warm inside, just looking over the few personal photos that were framed there.

A photo of him and young Midoryia, looking very proud of themselves at a beach. He and David Shield, arms slung over each others shoulders and sporting those carefree smiles that youth brought on their faces. A picture of a very stern faced Nighteye that made you mildly uncomfortable as it seemed to judge you through the glass.

Quit judging, you thought. He needs to relax and this is a fucking great way to do it.

You moved on from that one quite quickly.

At the end of the row was that damned faculty photograph that Principal Nezu had made you all participate in.

The one where you’d purposely shoved yourself against Toshinori’s side despite the photographer’s insistence that the shorter of you were to stand in the front. When you’d protested, Toshinori had done something you hadn’t expected him to do, given his disposition for being a wallflower around you.

He’d bent down, his big hands around your waist and suddenly, he was lifting you with ease. Up, up, until he sat you on his shoulder. You’d been an ecstatic mess, a stupid smile on your face and your usually uncooperative wings spread out above the other teachers.

All Might had struck his usual pose, flexing his muscles and grinning- except one of his hands was on your hip, holding you steady the whole time and the sensation of his fingers pressing into you had stayed with you for days.

Thus, the official faculty photograph had been born. The one that all the papers were forced to publish, seeing as you’d all refused to have another one taken.

He could be bold with you when he wanted to be and days like that proved it.

The memory of that day was one of your favourites. Seeing that confidence, how pleased he was with himself over making you smile. It was like catching a glimpse into the past.

You eyed the big, comfortable looking couch in the corner.

That definitely looked sturdy enough-

You didn’t get to finish your train of thought because the door opened suddenly and All Might was shoved inside, Hizashi hot on his heels. He was mid-sentence as he walked in, laughing over something Hizashi was saying and he didn’t even notice you.

“Well, if it’s that urgent Mic, I suppose I can spare a few minutes!”

“Trust me. You’ll be thanking me for weeks to come.”

“Thanking you? Thanking you for-”

His eyes settled on you when he finally focused his attention on the room and his voice caught in his throat, long enough for Hizashi to belt out a raucous laugh. He slapped a hand against All Might’s broad back and then turned his beaming grin to you.

“One Number One Hero, delivered as promised,” he waggled his eyebrows. “You kids have fu-un!”

It was a good thing you hadn’t gone with your original plan of greeting him in lingerie.

Before you could even think about reprimanding Mic, he was gone, leaving behind nothing more than a smoke trail and Toshinori looking for a means of escape. You made sure he knew that it wasn’t going to happen, quickly positioning yourself between him and the doorway. Despite his unlimited strength, you knew that he wouldn’t barge you out of the way just to save face.

Like you’d said before. He was too much of a gentleman.

“You. Sit. Now,” you pointed at the couch, using your best angry voice and you swear that you saw him swallow hard, eyes trained on the carpet as he followed your instructions and seated himself on the plush cushions.

“I um, didn’t think you were working today,” he muttered, rubbing one hand over the back of his neck and fidgeting with a button of his suit with his other. Another part of your absolutely diabolical plan. You’d purposely left your car at home that morning, so he wouldn’t see it in the parking lot.

“Well here I am,” you said shortly. “It looks like cornering you seems to be the only way I’m going to get you to talk, so... yeah. Talk. Why have you been avoiding me this week? I was starting to think I had the plague.”

Both true and untrue. You knew why, deep down.

“I haven’t been avoiding you-” he spluttered.

You inwardly rolled your eyes in exasperation. While it was nice of him to try and spare your feelings, he was an absolutely awful liar when he wasn’t prepared.

“Liar.”

He winced like you’d struck him and you softened your tone, realising you’d have to approach this differently. You couldn’t just wrangle the answers out of him like you could with other people. Sometimes you wondered what he’d been like, back in the days of his youth when he was saving people with a smile and that villain hadn’t yet darkened his door.

Had he been confident about his body? Had wild romances and broken a slew of hearts on the way?

Maybe.

But… even then, he didn’t seem the type to do things like that. He was a man married to his work, with too much empathy for others to go around breaking hearts. That’s why you knew full well that him avoiding you hadn’t been to intentionally hurt you. Looking at him now in his muscular form, still almost too embarrassed to look you in the eye- you wondered if anyone had ever told him that just being him was enough.

You wanted to climb into his lap and show him it was enough. He was enough.

On the other hand, he kind of deserved to sweat after the week you’d had. Anxious, confused and unbelievably horny. A barrage of almost hourly daydreams, most of which involved his hands in some way, shape or form.

Your marking scheme had gone straight to Hell- especially after you’d set your students an essay about a hero who had inspired them. Half of the papers had been about All Might and you’d thrown A’s left, right and fucking centre at them.

Even the terrible ones.

The nights held no reprieve either.

There hadn’t been one that had gone by where you didn’t wake up, breathing hard and sweating like you’d just run twenty blocks in the midday sun. It was exhausting. It was like your body was always on edge, longing for another touch, another look.

The constant nervous tension was getting to you and your concentration had suffered for it.

All because Toshinori Yagi had fucking fantastic hands and was withholding access to them.

You had to shake yourself to bring reality rushing back.

“So… what? You just get me off once and then run for it? Is that how it is, Toshinori? Did it really mean that little to you?” you asked inspite of yourself. You hadn’t actually meant to say those things.

You hadn’t even realised that you were this upset about it. So much for not taking it personally. His head shot up, eyes wide with surprise when what you’d said finally registered.

“You could have just told me. You didn’t need to- I dunno. Spare my feelings,” you said, quietly.

“What!? No! Tha- That’s not it at all!” he yelped, standing from the couch with surprising speed.

“Then what is it? Did you not enjoy yourself?” you said and rested a hand in the centre of his chest. His whole body tightened under your palm, like every muscle was being electrocuted just because you were touching him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, watching the red rising up along his neck like he was going to start blowing steam from his ears.

“Of course I enjoyed it,” he said at last and to your surprise, his voice didn’t shake once. His hand did though, when he brought it up to cover yours. “Every second of being with you like- like that,” he said and swallowed hard. You tilted your head to the side, eyes searching his face. “Things were just a little overwhelming, especially after Eraserhead finding us. I don’t deal with things like that well.”

That was an understatement. You gave him an understanding half smile. It had been embarrassing for both of you.

You had studiously avoided Shouta for the better part of three days and it only just dawned on you that Toshinori had probably done the same. Not that Shouta seemed to care much about the whole thing beyond getting his money.

He hadn’t mentioned it again.

“Look, Toshi, I get it okay? Heh, at least I think I do-” you tried, sighing when the words refused to come. Maybe it was because of the low, dull throb between your legs or maybe it was because he looked so damn good in that suit but you were distracted. “But I’d prefer it if you talked to me about it instead of hoping it’ll just go away.”

“I didn’t want it to-” he started, but then stopped himself. “I thought things would be alright between us if I just stayed away. A dumb plan, admittedly,” he flashed you a sheepish smile and squeezed your hand in his.

“Listen,” you said slowly, “Could you maybe, you know, shrink down please?”

He shot you a bemused look and you could guess it was the same as the look he’d given you back in the coat closet the first time you’d asked. It wasn’t something that many people asked him to do often.

“What? Why?” he asked, clearly caught off guard. Good. That gave you a higher chance of actually getting him to do as you asked. It felt like you needed to prove a point. That you were interested in Toshinori too- not just All Might. “I still have a few hours to go…”

“Does it make you uncomfortable? You don’t have to,” you acquiesced, although reluctantly. You knew there was a line for him but... as much as you wanted him to be comfortable with you, you didn’t want to have sex with him now if he was in his muscular form. It would entirely defeat the purpose of you being here.

“No, no, it’s alright,” he said after a beat and to your relief he did as you asked. The room quickly filled with smoke.

He didn’t actually lose much height on you, you noticed, once you had wafted the smoke away and he’d recovered from his coughing fit. Straightening up from where he’d been bent at the waist, you thumbed a line across his bottom lip absently, wiping away blood.

“Sorry,” he grunted, scrubbing his hand over his face to make sure there was nothing left. It had sounded painful and you knew it happened often.

“Are you okay?” you asked, searching his face. Your hand still lay on his chest, thumbing absentminded circles against his shirt and he met your gaze with those vivid, strikingly blue eyes that always took the words out of your mouth. Your stomach swooped in your gut and a low, excited throb pulsed between your thighs.

The longing ache from earlier worsened.

“M’fine,” he said softly, not looking at you any more but at the blood on your hand instead. A forced, incredulous laugh made it’s way out of his mouth and it instantly set you on edge. That was not the way he usually laughed. “So kid. Is this better? Am I any easier on the eyes?” he asked and the questions were tinged with a bitterness you’d never heard from him before.

You didn’t like it at all and the question got your back up almost immediately.

“Yeah, actually it is,” you answered defensively, eyes narrowing as though daring him to argue with you.

He laughed that not right laugh again and it was like ice.

“Is that right? Well. Take a good look,” he said and stepped back, arms splayed wide. The suit that would have usually been stretched across his broad chest, hung on him now. His expression was far from the usual happy go lucky Toshinori that you’d fallen for. He really was full of so much self-loathing that it astonished you. The number one hero, Symbol of Peace and saviour of Japan- hated himself. Really hated- and that twisted your stomach painfully.

“Is this really what you want in your bed at night?”

Your face dropped, expression full of pain. But not for you. For him- because he really did believe that he wasn’t good enough in this form. That he was somehow lesser.

He must have seen the hurt in your eyes because his expression softened all of a sudden and his arms dropped back to his sides. He looked away, ashamed of his outburst.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, exhaling tiredly. “I shouldn’t be taking my insecurities out on you. It’s not your fault. I guess this isn’t what you expected after everything, huh?”

You had been silent for a few moments but that question needed an answer.

“Yeah.”

He looked up at you, confused.

“Yeah?” he parroted.

“I want you in my bed every fucking night,” you said breathlessly and without giving him any more time to over think, you yanked him forward by his tie. He crashed into you and before he could say anything you were kissing him hard, tangling your fingers in the soft hairs at the base of his neck.

He only flailed a little bit much to your amusement and eventually his fingers wrapped over your shoulders, finding purchase.

You only pulled back an inch or so to breathe before crowding him, not giving him a single moment more to be down on himself, or to cast doubt on your very obvious intentions. You wouldn’t hear another bad word about himself come out of his mouth.

The back of his legs hit the couch and he stumbled, landing with a little ‘oomph’ and the adorably dazed expression that you’d kissed onto his face.

You wasted no time and straddled his thighs, one arm braced on the back of the couch beside his head and the other blissfully free to roam across his chest.

“You’d never break a promise to a fan, would you Toshi?” you murmured, purposely being vague. He looked confused, his head cocking to the side as he managed to focus on your words instead of the fact that you were in his lap.

“I made you a promise?”

“A million orgasms? Remember? I do. It’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you admitted, fingers toying with the knot of his tie. Idly undoing it and then his shirt collar, you ducked your head and trailed a line of kisses across his throat.

It was true. Every moment, every spare second of every day, that promise had taken up your thoughts- as well as all the ways he could fulfil it. With his hands, his mouth, his cock. You had been a woman possessed.

Toshi’s hands were almost burning as he slid them up along your back and a delicious shiver raced along your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly and you stopped your assault on his neck, lazily bringing your face up to his. His expression was earnest prompting you to press another kiss to his lips, sweet this time instead of hungry. You knew from his tone that he was being honest, serious. “I’m sorry for- for avoiding you like a coward. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t want you. I did. I do. I just-” he paused, head falling back while his hands came to rest on your hips. “I dunno. I don’t know what to say to you, sweetheart. You could do so much better.”

“Bullshit,” you said sharply, trying and failing to stop your voice from sounding angry. How could he ever think that? After all the things he’d done? The sacrifices he’d made for others while he kept the world safe? And always, always with a smile.

“You’re a good man Toshinori. If everyone could be a little more like you, then the world would be a fucking awesome place to live.”

“Thank you but that’s not what I meant. I do appreciate it though,” he said, smiling at you as his hand came up to cup your cheek and he swept a thumb over your cheekbone. “I dunno if you’ve noticed but I’m old kid. Past my prime. You’re…” he trailed off with an almost disbelieving laugh, his eyes roaming over you from where you were seated in his lap, up to your face and back again.

You flushed under his appreciative gaze, well aware of what he was thinking of when he looked at you like that.

“Younger,” he managed at last. “Gorgeous. Sexy. A million other things. I-”

He stopped himself, meeting your wide eyed look with an honest one of his own. You had been rendered speechless, the caress of his eyes like he was running his hands over you. He’d never opened up this much and you were drinking it all in- thinking of ways to tell him he was wrong and all the while trying not to preen under his compliments.

“I’m terrified.”

Not what you’d been expecting. You blinked stupidly at him for a moment before those unused gears in your head finally began to be useful again.

“Terrified? Of what?” you asked, confused as all Hell. “Of wanting me? You can’t really think that it’s so out there. Age differences don’t matter to me-”

“No, not that. Look,” he said, his blush adorably bright as he tackled your questions. You shut up for a moment at last, letting him talk. “I haven’t had someone look at me the way you did last week in- in years.”

His eyes darted down to his side and you followed his gaze- well aware that he meant since before he’d been injured. Before he’d almost died, was the silent addition and you felt an uncomfortable unease when you thought about him not being here any more.

You distracted yourself, focusing on the sound of his voice instead and enjoying the soft vibrations you could feel through his shirt.

“Definitely not when I’m like this. Although, All Might stills gets plenty of attention,” he said with a roll of his eyes, obviously fed up with it all. “I can safely say, no-one has ever shoved my hand down their pants and let me touch them like you did. Not when I look the way I do now.”

While you were immensely proud of your own confidence the week before, you still couldn’t quite grasp what he was trying to tell you. Shifting in his lap, you leaned into the hand that hadn’t left your cheek.

He gave you a pointed look and suddenly, it clicked.

“Wait... you’re telling me that you’ve never had sex in this form. Ever,” you deadpanned, disbelief evident in your voice. It was almost unthinkable, to you anyway. But the way he looked at you was proof enough that he wasn’t pulling your leg.

A wave of cold washed over you as it slowly dawned on you that the first action this big, lovable sweetheart had gotten since he’d been hospitalised had been a quick fumble in the dark with your angry ass.

The least romantic thing that could ever have happened in the history of fucking humanity- and yeah, you knew that was dramatic but what the fuck!? All of this, with the added bonus of one of his co-workers eavesdropping not ten feet down the hall.

Shit.

If you’d have known then… then, you would at least have burned a fucking candle or something. Put up a little mood lighting! Or at least checked to see if anyone was listening.

The knowledge that he probably didn’t even mind your advances and poor planning made you feel even worse. He’d just gone along with it.

“I did try, you know?” he said uncomfortably after a drawn out moment of you silently freaking out. You reluctantly came back to the room and sucked in a breath, attempting to not look too panicked. This did not sound like it was about to have a happy ending. “After psyching myself up for days I actually got up the courage to go out to a bar like this. I even approached a few women but-” he trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

“Did it um… go well?” you asked and he laughed, but it was humourless. The same kind of laugh from earlier that had chilled you. He softened though, noticing the look on your face.

“No, kid. It didn’t go well.”

“Oh,” you replied, voice small.

“I’ve never had a woman look at me like she was, I don’t know. Repulsed, before,” he threw the word out like it meant nothing but fuck, it felt like he’d hit you. The air vanishing from your lungs in an instant. He just tossed words like that around and had no idea how much they affected you. “It’d always been so easy for me but after that night… I just never wanted to feel like I did again. So I didn’t try.”

When he finally looked up at you, he almost jumped, the emotions written clearly on your face.

You weren’t gonna cry. You were not going to cry. Fuck. Too late.

Scrubbing at the corners of your eyes, you sniffed hard and turned your head away from his startled expression. You couldn’t look at him, sitting there, so sweet and earnest and lovable. You couldn’t think about it, about him going home alone that night and wondering what was wrong with him.

Thinking he wasn’t good enough as he was.

It was too painful.

“Shit! Are you alright!?” he choked in alarm, ducking his head around until you were forced to look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Swallowing back your stupid tears, you nodded and wiped your arm across your face.

“Those people were fucking morons,” you managed savagely after a moment of silently collecting yourself. That was one of the nicer words that came to mind. You didn’t want to say what you actually thought because you didn’t want to start on a vulgar rant that could last for, easy, an hour.

His smile brightened your mood though.

“Huh, well,” he laughed all soft and embarrassed like, rubbing his hand across the back of his neck. “It’s nice of you to say so- but even if I had gotten further than asking for their numbers... I don’t think it could have gone anywhere. My confidence was just shot. This…” he gripped his side softly, eyes darting down.

He trailed off, not finishing his sentence but you got the gist of what he wanted to say.

That scar that haunted him both mentally and physically was hard to forget about. The constant elephant in the room, whether between you and him or him and his career. You couldn’t do anything about that second one but, at least you had a little bit of power over the first.

Ignoring your whirling emotions for a moment, you managed to calm yourself enough to talk properly.

“Hey, look at me, big guy.”

You used the nickname you used when he was All Might. Big guy. He always smiled when you called him that- and not that well practised hero smile either. A real smile. The one that made your heart skip a beat.

Now was no different. The corners of his mouth rose slowly and then he was gracing you with a soft, gorgeous grin that lit up the fucking room.

You almost forgot what you were going to say. His eyes tentatively met yours and the words came back to you, despite how heavy your tongue felt in your mouth.

“Toshinori, I know this is hard for you, okay?” you said, swallowing back all the words and emotions that threatened to pour out of you and picking your words carefully instead. “I know you’ve had bad experiences in the past and it might be difficult to trust me... but you’ve known me long enough now to know that I don’t fuck around with things like this. I would never hurt you like that.”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” he replied lowly, and his forehead fell against yours.

While he didn’t look entirely convinced, his body did relax somewhat between your legs and he actually tilted forward to kiss you- which sent a little thrill along your spine. You were happy to accept it.

It became heated quickly, the palm of one of his hands pressing between your shoulders to bring your body closer to his. You arched your back, your stomach and breasts plastered to his front by the time you tore your mouth away to breathe.

The hard line of his cock pressed up between your legs, giving you a good idea that his body’s needs were far outpacing his reluctant thoughts.

“You make me so fucking hot, Toshi,” you muttered and he captured your mouth again in another searing kiss, his free hand carding fingers through your hair. It was soothing and you found the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders all day, easing.

“You sure you’re not trying to kill me?” he replied when he pulled back, his voice hoarse and needy at the same time. You bucked playfully in his lap and tugged at his open shirt collar, bringing his face close to yours.

“Like I would kill you before I’ve seen you naked,” you pointed out, as though it was obvious.

Despite the entire conversation up until now and the fact that you were sitting in his lap and raring to get this party started- he still flashed you an uneasy smile at the mere mention of him getting undressed.

Thankfully, you were more than prepared for this eventuality. You had put a little bit of thought into this other than, ambush him in his office and ride him on the couch.

Although, you got an A for the plan so far.

“Hey, look at me,” you soothed reassuringly, lifting his chin with your finger. He did, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Don’t sweat the small stuff. We’ll do this one step at a time and you can stop me whenever you want. I won’t be upset, okay?”

He nodded, looking at you with fucking hearts in his eyes. You knew your expression was much the same so you could hardly tease him about it.

“I’ll even go first to ah- make you more comfortable,” you shot him a wink, smoothing your hand over his cheek. You knew how self conscious he was but you weren’t about to let that spoil his good time. If he was more comfortable being fully clothed and you being naked, then so fucking be it.

Besides, the thought made you kind of hot. It was like being called to the principal’s office for being naughty-

Oh. Wow. There was a fantasy that was just waiting to be explored. There was time for all of those things later though. Right now, this was about him.

Your offer of getting naked didn’t seem to rid him of his nervous tension though. If anything it made it worse. You slid out of his lap all the same, subtly surveying him.

A gut wrenching rush of heat and wetness spread between your legs when you did.

All he was doing was sitting there and he was managing to turn you into a needy, aroused mess.

Granted, he was very, very attractive to you right now- even if he might not think so.

He was reclined back, his cheeks pink and his hair a mess from where you’d been gripping handfuls of it. His lips were well kissed and his chest was rising and falling rapidly- tie hanging loose around his neck. His legs, all long and lean were falling open and the hard outline of his cock was straining against the fabric, ready to be free.

Honestly, it was a miracle that you could stand up at all, let alone be moderately sexy while you stripped for him. But by the time you were naked- your panties thrown over your shoulder to land on his desk- he was as equally fucking ruined as you were.

He’d clenched his hands into fists, his knuckles white and his teeth gritted like he longed to reach out and touch you but wouldn’t do so without permission.

Feeling oddly confident despite the difference in dress, you stepped between his legs and waited as he trailed his eyes up and over you.

“You can touch me, ya know,” you reminded him after a moment. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and slowly- oh so fucking slowly- he reached out a hand and rested it lightly on your stomach. His hand was big and his palm hot when he splayed his fingers out and they brushed the undersides of your breasts.

It was no wonder you’d been a little sore the day after your excursion in the closet. His fingers were long and there had been many times that you’d become hyperfixated on them before now.

“Is this better?” you asked, voice husky and hopefully sexy.

He glanced up at you face, giving you a nervous laugh.

“You’re beautiful,” he said reverently, his gaze wandering in a heated path from your head to your feet- lingering on your breasts and then on the apex of your thighs.

His hand slid to your hip and with a strength that belied his skinny frame, he tugged you back into his lap. You laughed as you stumbled into his embrace but it quickly morphed into a moan when his mouth closed over your nipple.

His other hand came up to cup your breast, his thumb sweeping a wide circle over the peak and you could do nothing but whimper like an idiot in heat as he lavished attention on you. The sweet pull of his lips, the sharp nip of his teeth and then the soothing stroke with the flat of his tongue had your head swimming while long fingers worked you diligently.

You could feel your arousal threatening to drip along the inside of your thigh, sticky and hot and you wanted him to feel it too.

On the other hand though, you didn’t particularly want to ruin his suit pants. You’d already made him come in his hero outfit and the dry cleaning for that material was probably expensive as fuck. It was only that vague thought in the back of your head that made brought you back to reality and tug on his hair to get his attention.

He glanced up at you with a hum of questioning.

Leaving one last longing kiss between your breasts, he reluctantly pulled away and let you attach your lips to his again. He was deceptively good with his tongue, you thought suddenly. You could hardly wait for him to eat you out.The thought made your thighs quiver in anticipation and it wasn’t abated when his hands slid along the back of them and then up, covering your ass.

His fingertips dug into the soft flesh, pulling you closer.

The slow build of confidence you were seeing was addictive. You wanted him to show you just what you’d been missing these past few months. You wanted him to make you scream like you had in that closet and the mere thought of his fingers sliding into your aching pussy made your head light.

He might not have done anything like this in a few years, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a few tricks up his sleeve either.

His mouth dipped to your throat and that son of a bitch knew how high you wore your shirts because he stopped just below an invisible line and promptly sucked a dark mark into your skin. Your pussy clenched around nothing longingly and you fisted your hand in his shirt, unable to even protest.

The thought of being marked by him was simply too arousing.

“Toshi,” you admonished playfully, pressing a kiss to the side of his head so he knew you weren’t actually mad. He gave a coy laugh, humming against your skin and you felt him smile rather than saw it.

“Sorry kid,” he rumbled, fingers squeezing your hips now instead of your ass. You kind of missed the grip he’d had on you, keeping you close to his eagerly straining cock. Fuck, you wanted to take him inside you as soon as possible. “I got a little carried away.”

“You know, you’re going to have to stop calling me kid eventually. Otherwise this might get weird,” you pointed out, trailing your gaze over his flushed face. He gave you a lopsided, sheepish smile and the tips of his ears went pink.

“Force of habit. You are younger than me, you know.”

You tutted and rolled your eyes but your half smile gave you away.

“Come on, Toshi. You act like you’re ancient sometimes. Live a little, old man.”

He laughed. A genuine, full laugh that had you not knowing whether to cry, kiss him or just ride him until you were both exhausted. Then to your surprise, he wrapped you up in his arms with a playful growl and kissed you.

Oh yeah, number three was definitely winning.

Even though you were naked and he wasn’t, you didn’t feel the kind of reluctant embarrassment you might have felt with anyone else. Toshi was the last person who would ever judge you and knowing that bolstered your confidence enough to tug his face up to yours.

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Wanna know a secret?” you asked, noticing the moment his eyes became entranced by your mouth. He made to move forward- almost not hearing your question- but your hand on his chest made him stop.

“Huh? You have a secret?” he said and when your smile turned wolfish, his grip tightened where it was already digging into your waist. If it was nerves you weren’t sure but you said nothing about it.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all week. Sneaking into your office and fucking you.”

“Oh?”

He might have aimed for nonchalant but he missed by a mile, his voice cracking a little when he swallowed. You watched his Adam’s apple bob and heard the sharp little inhale of breath that hitched in his throat. Your tongue swept over your bottom lip now, keeping his attention on your mouth.

“Do you remember that day in the teacher’s lounge?”

The day he’d stood like an awkwardly adorable beanpole in the corner while the principal talked, looking everywhere but at you and then had split before you could even talk to him. He shot you a very apologetic look when he remembered his behaviour but you shut him up before he could say anything about it- your finger trailing across his lips lightly.

“The whole time, I was thinking about sucking your cock.” He choked out a noise but you hushed him, not quite finished with your story yet. “Just, getting on my knees and taking you into my mouth... Honestly, I was super unprofessional.”

A giddy little thrill ran through your body at admitting your little secret fantasy.

To your surprise, he didn’t pop a blood vessel like you thought he would. Instead, his eyes darkened and slowly, tentatively, he drew the finger that you were tracing over his lips into his mouth. A fresh wave of arousal washed over you at the unexpected, but welcome, turn of events.

With your other hand, you slowly began to undo the buttons on the front of his shirt.

Even though his eyes were trained intently on your face, he didn’t protest or ask you to stop- much to your relief. He released your finger with a soft, wet pop and in a bit of a daze, you made quick work of his tie.

Instead of throwing it to one side, you circled it around your neck and let the soft, smooth material fall between your breasts. His eyes followed it and you were glad to give him something else to focus on other than the slow exposure of his chest and stomach.

“Does it suit me?” you asked, the tip of your tongue pressing against a sharp canine and your expression scandalous.

He snorted, unable to stop himself from laughing at your ridiculous expressions.

“It’s never looked better, that’s for sure,” he said, his hands sweeping up along your sides to press your breasts together around the soft line of the tie. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he muttered, half to himself and half out loud. Then his whole face went beet red when he realised that you had heard him- like you would be mad at him for saying it.

On the contrary, a rush of affection filled you to the point that you simply had to lean into him and nuzzle a sweet kiss to his mouth. You butted your forehead against his gently, your noses touching.

Jesus, just how blue were his eyes?

Button by button, his shirt fell open between you and by the time you were finished looking at him like he was offering you the moon, you could see the barest glimpse of the dark pink, shiny skin peeking out from one side.

You made sure that you didn’t let your gaze linger for a moment more than necessary.

Instead, you focused on everything else that you could see.

You found yourself pleasantly surprised. For a man as skinny as he was- his body was mostly lean, solid muscle. While you could just make out his ribs, the rest of him was nicely built. You trailed a hand along the newly exposed skin, all tan and warm under your touch. You followed a path down between his pectoral muscles and across the still faintly defined six pack that he was sporting.

When the muscles twitched under your hand, you threw a playful glance at him.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” you said accusingly, a throaty chuckle slipping out when he looked confused. Exhilaration mixed with adrenaline was making you giddy and before he could say anything remotely bad about himself, you swooped forward and kissed him- pressing your naked form against him and rolling your body into his embrace.

You wanted him, needed to feel him everywhere. You couldn’t get close enough.

His arm came up across your back, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades as he held you firmly to his body.

After a moment of slow, lazy kisses, you coaxed his tongue into your mouth to encourage him to him take the lead. Sure, showering him with compliments and telling him how much you were enjoying yourself was all well and good- but there wouldn’t be anything better for his confidence than letting him take control of the whole thing.

Besides, you were happy to have him set the pace if it meant he was relaxed with you.

“I want you on top of me,” you murmured and you gasped when his mouth suddenly dipped to the hollow of your throat. His tongue laved a line from there, across your collarbone to where he bit down lightly on your shoulder. “Toshi?”

Saying his name seemed to finally awaken something in him because you were suddenly scooped up into his embrace and a second later, you found yourself looking up at the ceiling- encased in the lush cushions you’d been admiring earlier.

They really were as comfortable as you’d thought they’d be.

You were quickly distracted from you admiration of the furniture by a hard body slotting between your open thighs. He loomed over you, one big hand planted firmly in the cushions beside your head and the other suddenly cupping a handful of your breast.

It was quickly becoming apparent that Toshinori was a breast man.

He palmed each one softly, expertly and your nipples pebbled under the ministrations. He cocked his head, eyes fixed on your tits like he wasn’t planning on leaving them alone any time soon.

He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging it gently a few times before moving to the other to give it the same attention.

You were breathing heavily by the time his fingers slid away from your nipples to the forgotten tie that rested in the valley of your breasts. Well. You’d forgotten about it while he was lavishing attention on you. Clearly he hadn’t.

While he watched your expression, he deftly tied a knot to secure it around your neck.

Hnng.

You went utterly boneless, especially after he gave it a playful tug and it slid ever so slightly tighter around your throat. Sparks ignited in your stomach and flitted down between your thighs, tingling and tightening muscles in their wake.

Well, that had been unexpected.

You wanted him to do it again but lacked the diction to actually tell him and a low, eager whine escaped instead of words. He shot you a pleased smile and then sat back onto his knees, his shirt now hanging open to reveal his stomach.

This time, you made sure that he knew where you were looking as your heated gaze sank downwards, lower and lower- drinking him in.

The difference in dress must have finally gotten to him, especially the way he was staring at you and suddenly he was undressing, agonisingly slowly with his eyes on yours- and all you could do was lie there, a soaking mess of wordless wonder.

He took his time with it and even though you knew it was partly because of his insecurities, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was subconsciously teasing you. You certainly felt teased with every new inch of skin revealed.

His rumpled suit jacket was thrown over the back of the couch carelessly and then he was finally shrugging out of his too big shirt- only sparing a quick, curious glance at your face as he did. His cheeks were still bright pink but he said nothing- letting his actions speak volumes.

He paused only once when he finally reached his belt buckle but you fixed him with a dark, heated look that spurred him to continue.

Never had you been so aroused by watching a man strip before.

Long, clever fingers slowly undid the buckle and the memory of those same fingers driving you to orgasm had your hips bucking involuntarily. His movements slowed as he looked away from what he was doing to your face.

What a sight he made, you thought idly. Kneeling over you, his pants splaying open at the top and tented under the heaviness of his erection. He followed your gaze, coming to rest where you were looking and then, to your surprise, he palmed a hand over the outline of his cock- almost as though he was showing off.

You swallowed hard, making a noise of impatience.

His lips quirked noticeably and he went back to work, tugging off his shoes and socks and then going back to his trousers.

Finally, he was naked. You sat up, reaching for him to bring him back to you, missing the heat of him on top of you. He followed you, nudging your thighs apart to kneel between them.

His cock was thick, bobbing softly under it’s own weight and he gripped the base, stroking a slow line up along the shaft and then back again. A silvery bead of pre-cum leaked from the tip as he pulled his foreskin back, dripping down bit by bit until it threatened to fall.

You desperately wanted to catch it on your tongue, take him into your mouth- but this moment was his now. Your control had been handed over.

His scar took up a solid chunk of his torso,splashed across what was once smooth, unblemished skin. The wound had clearly been deep- and yeah, you didn’t really know all the details of how he’d gotten it but you could guess that it had been an agonising experience. It didn’t bear thinking about.

The fact that he was here, that he was alive and warm above you was a testament to how amazing he really was. To have gone through all of that and survived it,come out fighting on the other side… He was astounding.

“You with me, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice smooth and sweet, hovering hesitantly above you with his cock in one hand and the other gripping your thigh. You met his gaze solidly, a salacious grin splitting your face.

“I’m right here,” you said softly, shimmying closer and bringing your knees up snugly against his hips. That was an invitation if there ever was one.

“We can still stop if you want to-” he said, trailing off. You were both naked, inches away from each other and he was still trying to give you one last out. One last opportunity to change your mind.

Like you would.

He released his hold on your thigh, his hand cupping across his side and his eyes searching your face, the worry in them palpable. Was this suddenly too much? Were you coming to your senses at last?

Clearly slipping into deep thought had made you look reluctant to continue- in his eyes at least.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, your voice playful but laced with an underlying seriousness. “Toshinori, I’ve been getting myself off all week because of you. You don’t think I deserve a little something for all my suffering?” you asked quietly, before dipping your hand between your legs to rub a slow circle around your clit.

It was a delightful feeling, pleasure igniting as you settled into the familiar touch- only made all the more intense knowing that he could see you doing it. He watched, breath bated and his shoulders tensed as you touched yourself- strokes lazy and unhurried.

Nipping your lip, you tilted your hips upwards to give him a better view. Your thighs fell apart and you slipped your fingers lower, finding slick wetness and pressing inside.

A gasp clawed up your throat without you even thinking and you sank two fingers in, practised and confident in your own expertise.

To your delight, he forgot all of his insecurities for a moment. Long, nimble fingers folded around his cock and he began to stroke himself- all while intensely watching you masturbate for him. His thick moan split the air and it was like music to your ears.

It was very arousing, watching him jerk off over you. Because of you.

“Please Toshi,” you said, breathlessly. “I need you.”

His answer was a filthy, eager groan and without any more thoughts of stopping or worry about what he looked like, he moved forward and pressed the tip of his cock between the swollen lips of your pussy. You jolted, inhaling a sharp, stilted gasp of pleasure at the sudden touch.

“Please,” you chanted softly. “Please, please, please-”

“Fuck,” was his choked response, the blunt head of his cock sliding through your wetness and bumping against your clit. He did it again, then again and you quickly realised that he was watching the expressions on your face intently. Once more, to draw another groan out of you and then he was pressing inside- pushing you apart and filling you inch by inch.

Your thighs trembled around his waist and your head pressed into the couch below when your back arched.

“Oh, Toshi!” you cried, pleasure racing through you. You were suddenly thankful that you didn’t have to worry about making too much noise. There was nothing holding you back here.

He was stretching you far more than you’d thought he would and it very quickly toed the line between pleasure and pain. The adage that skinny guys have big dicks was definitely holding true because damn-

It was almost too much but then he made a noise of absolute bliss and buried his face against your neck, teeth scraping your skin in a playful bite and you relaxed- just enough to feel comfortable taking him in further.

His breath was scorching and you could feel the silent tension building in his arms- in the hand that was holding your hip up from the couch. He carried on inspite of it, sliding himself into you even further, deeper, making you crazy.

He watched your face the whole time, drinking in your expressions.

Eventually, he bottomed out and his pubic bone pressed against you, signalling that he was as deep as he could go.

Your head span in delight. Toshinori, the man you’d been yearning for for months was currently balls deep in you- his breath catching in his throat and his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to bruise.

The mere thought was enough to make you clench around him and his hips jerked reflexively. Red flushed across his cheeks as he fought with himself not to do it again.

You stroked a gentle line down his back, fingertips dancing over his vertebrae one by one. As you went lower, you were constantly interrupted by the smooth skin of multiple scars and you wondered briefly just how many he had.

But then he grunted softly into your ear and brought your attention back to the here and now.

A shiver ran through him and you felt it- from your fingers to your pussy.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice uneven as you tried not to shift your hips too much. Every movement, every sharp breath he took, ground him hard against your clit and you were beginning to throb with the unreleased tension.

You didn’t want to come too soon. You wanted this to last for as long as it could.

“Y-yeah… It’s just-” he said as steadily as he could, nuzzling his nose across your cheek as he semi-avoided answering your question. “S’been a while sweetheart. I don’t want to, um-”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. Ah, you hadn’t even thought of that.

Hadn’t he made it perfectly clear that he hadn’t seen any action in a while? It would make sense that he would be a little over sensitive the first time. The thought of him losing control came unbidden and you couldn’t deny that it turned you on. Warmth and something else- something foreign rose in your chest and you cupped his cheek, tugging him down for a lazy, unhurried kiss.

“Take as long as you need to, baby,” you said, squeezing softly around him and he choked out an embarrassed, almost nervous laugh.

Whether it was over your not-so-accidental slip of the tongue or the current situation, you didn’t know. Probably a little of both.

But if he got to call you ‘sweetheart’ and make you all pathetic and needy, then you could return the favour you decided.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he said, his breath catching when you hitched your legs higher again over his hips. You grinned up at him, circling your arms around his neck and stroking your fingers through his hair.

“Believe me, Toshi. I’m far from uncomfortable… I like having you inside me,” you murmured, peppering little kisses down, from his bottom lip to his chin, and then to his sharp jawline. He slid his hand up along your side, sighing almost contentedly against your hair. “Feel so full. So good,” you continued, nipping at him teasingly.

“Y-yeah?” he said.

“Fuck yes Toshinori,” you sighed a pleased, longing sound and rose your hips a little to make sure he was as deep as possible.

Having him resting inside you, all hot and hard was doing things to your head. Your inner muscles flitted and spasmed around him, relishing the stretch and while you could hardly wait for him to move- simply having this, being with him like this… it was so much more than you’d ever dreamed about.

Far better than your wild fantasies of destructive fucking and hot rendezvous. Those were great, yeah and you had no doubt that you would get him there eventually… but this…

Oh. This.

It was real and he was here in your arms, looking at you with an expression akin to adoration. Giving him the confidence he deserved to have was more than you could have asked for. He nuzzled you again, stroking your hair away from your face and then pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You giggled, a noise that you would never have made in a thousand years in public. But it made him grin, all big and happy and then he moved his hips and your world went quiet- soft and hot and spinning all at the same time.

It was just the two of you, here in this office- in this little bubble that reminded you of the week before. His forehead was pressed against yours and his fingers were roaming across your skin with an impassioned eagerness- thumbing over your nipples and then sliding between your bodies to rub circles against your clit.

His hips snapped suddenly against yours and it drove him home inside you. You arched up, pressing your slick stomach against his. You could feel the rough texture of his scar against you and when you opened your mouth to suck in a shaky breath, he found it with his and stopped you in your tracks.

He found a good rhythm fairly quickly, breathy sighs escaping him with every roll of his body into yours.

It had already been a warm day and was even warmer in the office, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

Your hands found purchase wherever they could and eventually, one drifted up along his injured side without you even thinking. He didn’t stop his thrusts but they did slow, his steady rhythm faltering a little bit. You realised what you were doing and your eyes found his, arm suddenly tense. You didn’t want to move your hand- wanted to feel all of him, every part.

You never wanted him to feel repulsive again. Ever.

However, Toshi said nothing.

Instead, his eyes bore into yours with a deep, bone shattering intensity. Fuck that was hot. He didn’t take his gaze away from yours for a second and it was like you were in a trance as he reeled back slowly- oh so fucking slowly- before slamming back into you.

The sudden force of the thrust rattled your brain and it also tore a frantic, strangled sound from your throat.

Pleasure rocketed through your body and when he did it again, you knew to expect it and rolled with him, timing it so you met him halfway. He grunted, his jaw going slack and his eyes squeezing shut as he concentrated on the pleasure he was taking from your body.

Your name fell from his lips and hit you like warm summer rain on your skin. You answered with a cry and a garbled mess of pleading- begging him to take you harder, take you faster, love you, fuck you- please, please-

“Baby, please,” you sobbed as he switched to shallow, half halting thrusts. He barely pulled out at all with every stroke and it seemed as though he suddenly wanted to be as close to you as possible.

You only just managed to register what happened next.

Warmth engulfed the hand that you’d kept on his ruined side and you eventually managed to break through the haze of pleasure in a moment of lucidity, glancing down.

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest, then regained it’s pace and thundered hard against your rib cage.

Toshi’s big hand covered yours, pressing your palm against the one thing that made him the most vulnerable. It was an incredible show of trust from him and you lunged upwards with your free hand, pulling him into a frenzied, hot kiss- almost letting out a sob into his mouth.

He moaned and your tongue met his, replying with a choked, needy groan of your own.

“Perfect, you’re perfect baby-” you said hurriedly, feeling the winding, throbbing tension in your groin building to a release.

His hips stuttered as you spoke and you knew that as much as he was trying to hold back his climax, he wasn’t going to last much longer. You wanted to see him come. Wanted to see the desperate, sweet pleasure in his expression that you’d caused him.

As though he’d read your mind, he glanced down between you to the sight of him sliding in and out of you, then back to your face.

“You haven’t-” he choked, clearly realising what you were trying to do. You squeezed hard around his cock again and his next sentence cut off midway with an almost agonised moan. “Fuck, you, you haven’t come yet.”

“I will,” you murmured reassuringly, already nearing the peak. You needed to see him. “I will, I promise. I wanna see you come Toshi,” you pleaded, one hand stroking his side gently and the other tangled in his hair to keep his face close to yours. He looked like he was going to argue some more but you kissed him hard, all tongue and teeth and his whine was music to your ears.

His pace turned frantic as he did as you wanted, chasing his orgasm with a fury.

His hips slapped against your ass and you could feel your arousal dripping out of you, covering you both and making every thrust sound slick and wet. Obscene noises filled the little office and the heat drove you both onwards- a writhing mess on the couch.

He tensed suddenly and a long line of expletives mixed with your name, turned the air blue.

Toshi came hard and the look of sweet ecstasy on his face was glorious.

His body shuddered, throwing his hips forward in small, shaky movements as he came inside you. Wet warmth spread between your legs and that, coupled with the grinding against your clit was enough to send you where you wanted to go.

Your orgasm rose in easy, pulsing waves like water breaking on the rocks and he kept up the soft circles on your clit all the while- guiding you through it. Your inner muscles fluttered around him and he huffed out a laboured breath, his arm shaking under the weight of keeping him upright.

As your orgasm slowly receded, you relaxed backwards and released a breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding. Cheeks red and hair a mess, Toshi stared at you the whole time- his expression gravitating between satisfaction and disbelief.

“You okay?” you asked, knowing full well that he was hovering between both yes and no. Now that the haze of lust was gently dispersing, the fact that he was naked and very much exposed to you was probably creeping back up on him. “Hey, look at me Toshinori.”

When he did as you asked and his eyes met yours, you flashed him a sly grin and tugged him down to lay on you. His arm gave out and he landed on you with a startled noise. Laughter bubbled out of you at his surprised expression but it quickly turned to one of fond affection instead, when he realised that neither of you were freaking out.

He wasn’t as heavy as you’d thought he would be and his body fit nicely against yours.

You could feel come dribbling out of you and down to the couch below, his softening cock still very much inside you. Neither of you had the energy to do anything about it though which, hey, was a real shame because this couch should honestly be in a fucking hall of fame somewhere. At least, in your opinion.

Presenting it to said museum might pose a bit of a problem.

After a long moment, filled with gentle touches and kisses, he finally spoke, rising up on his elbows to come face to face with you.

“Hey.”

You were pretty sure you looked like a mess- having just been royally fucked on a couch in the middle of the summer heat. But the way he looked at you made you feel like a movie star or some shit. His eyes sparkled with something unspoken but pleasant and you couldn’t stop the giddy smile that broke across your face.

“Hi,” you managed to say at last, stroking his hair away from his forehead. “So um… are you gonna thank Hizashi after this? Because you probably should.”

His laugh was loud, energetic and happy. He laughed like he used to and it drew all sorts of emotions that you’d been holding back to the surface. You blinked hard, feeling tears forming in the corners of your eyes when you did. Damn, stupid emotions, you thought bluntly.

So you buried your face into his neck before he could see your tears. You didn’t want him thinking that he’d done something wrong and you didn’t want to explain why you were crying like an asshole after really great sex.

“I’ll send him a card,” he chuckled, hugging you close to him and that just made the tears come harder than before- but you curled closer and discreetly wiped your eyes. His hand swept up along your side and you both lay quietly for a moment, you collecting yourself and him basking in the blissful afterglow.

It took you a minute to get your emotions in check but you did eventually and soon, it was becoming far too warm laying underneath him. As reluctant as you were to move, you nudged him and he took the hint- slipping out of you at last and rolling to the side.

You shifted, pillowing your head on your arm. It was, thankfully, an easy task being face to face with him while you were both horizontal. He grinned, mirroring your pose and for a few moments you both lay like that- his free hand tracing lazy circles against the softness of your stomach.

In the warmth of the room and the heat from his body, it would have been easy to drift into a dozy sleep but you resisted the pull of exhaustion.

Instead, you trailed a finger across his scar, finally taking the time to look at it properly. He tensed more out of habit than anything else, but said nothing to stop you as you explored. You were almost fascinated by the pattern it made. Like a sunflower burned into his skin.

“I would punch them,” you said finally, looking back to his face and finding his expression light and almost pleased.

His eyebrow quirked in curiosity, a half smile forming on his lips.

“Punch them? Who?”

“The person who did that to you. I would punch them. So fucking hard,” you said firmly, with a conviction you didn’t know you possessed. His expression softened and his gaze dipped to your lips as though he wanted to kiss you. Then, he remembered that he was technically allowed to kiss you and so he did, dipping forward to find your lips- languid and hot.

“No need to, kid,” he said when he pulled away. “I already did.” Pride tinged his voice when said that. “Besides. I would never let him get close enough to you to punch. Never.”

He gave you a stern look but it didn’t hold much weight seeing as his hair was sticking up in every direction and you were both still very naked. It was difficult to pull off serious when you were naked. True facts. Sliding your thigh between his legs, you watched his expression change from serious to amused when you waggled your eyebrows at him.

“Heh, you liiiiike me,” you singsonged childishly and he snorted, rolling his eyes as though he could deny it. “C’mon Toshi,” you jabbed him lightly in his uninjured side and he jerked, choking out a laugh. He was ticklish it seemed. “Admit it. You wanna kiiiiiss me-”

You were abruptly and very rudely, in your opinion, cut off when he did just that. But you were both smiling too hard for it to be a proper kiss- simply giggling and laughing against each others mouths.

Your teasing had clearly lightened his mood even more and honestly, if you could make him look like this every day for the rest of your lives, you’d happily do it. In the back of your mind, you wondered if he’d like that too.

You hummed a pleased sound, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” he said. He didn’t elaborate which part he was talking about, but you didn’t mind.

Either one was good for you.

#all might x reader #all might #bnha #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi #BNHAFF

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foilfreak · 3 years ago

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BEAUTY AND HER BEAST: Chapter 9 (temporary 1-2 week hiatus being taken from his fic, click ao3 link and read end notes to find out why. I WILL BE COMING BACK!!!)

WARNING PLZ READ BEFORE CONTINUING: This fic is rated NSFW and contains graphic depictions of things some people may find disturbing or alarming, including, but not limited to: violence, gore, unhealthy family relationships, Oedipus complexes, gratuitous amount of pornographic literature, ableist language, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, etc. If you are someone who does not enjoy fiction with these elements in them, then I suggest you refrain from reading this, because this fic will have all that, and probably a lot more. So, this is your first and final warning to turn around and go somewhere else if stuff like this just isn't your vibe, because from this point forward, your emotional wellbeing is in your own hands, and I will not be accepting blame if you disregarded my warnings and ended up reading something you didn't like. Idk why I feel compelled to write one of these despite this being Resident Evil fanfic, but I figured I'd cover my ass just in case.

(AO3 link below)

Despite the shrill echo of Nadine’s terrified voice being something Salvatore has prepared himself for since before the young woman even arrived in the reservoir, the real thing was still somehow 100 times worse than he could have ever imagined it being.

Chaos followed as Salvatore frantically left his hiding spot, crawling across the floor as quickly as his mangled body would allow, as a loud crashing sound vibrates the whole room once Nadine’s body finally lands, quite uncomfortably I might add, on the hardwood of the floor. The sudden frantic and terrified swinging of her arms following Salvatore’s verbal slip knocked the poor woman off balance, sending her right back down to the floor for a second time.

Staring at the writhing figure of Nadine from the other corner across the room, Salvatore sniffles pitifully to himself as tears cascade down his face. Oh how appropriately cruel, that the universe wouldn’t even give Salvatore the decency of a proper meeting with Nadine, much less a chance at friendship and even less at anything past that. It makes perfect sense that this would be the way Nadine found out how disgusting and pathetic he is. Sitting alone in a dark and dingy room, watching old romance films because he has no one of his own to hold and love like the men in the movies do, and eating entire blocks of cheese all on his own, because nothing pairs with unending loneliness like the tang of sharp cheddar and the horrible stomach ache that follows it.

Putting his hands up to cover his face, a final effort to hide himself away from the beautiful woman’s gaze, Salvatore merely sat in his new corner, his shoulders shaking with sobs of agony and his body trembling in fear as Nadine’s gaze finally locked on to him, and him alone this time, in the dark silence of the room.

“H-Hey… are you alright? I’m sorry I yelled like that, I didn’t mean to startle you like that, but you suddenly spoke up out of nowhere and it scared me half to death” The soft voice from across the room asks, causing Salvatore to pause in his moment of self-loathing. Did… did she just ask him if he was alright? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to ask her that?

“W-what…?” Salvatore chokes out, peering out slightly from behind the cover of his hood in confusion. The sight he’s met with is one that steals his breath away, much like the first time he laid eyes upon the stunning beauty this tiny woman held. However, unlike their “first” meeting, that took place back in Mother Miranda’s lab, this time there was no metal pod separating the two, Salvatore realized, as the sight of Nadine, slouched tiredly on the ground barely a few feet away from where he cowered in the corner, registered in the mutant man’s mind.

Next, of course, came her actual appearance. Black strands tousled messily across her forehead framed her round face and golden eyes perfectly. Her long white dress bunched up around her upper thighs, revealing the curves of her large, but muscular legs, that had previously been obscured by the material of her dress. Slouched shoulders and heavy breathing caused the material of Nadine’s nightgown to slowly inched its way down the front of her chest, not exposing her necessarily, but definitely revealing more and more of her lusciously plump breasts with every harsh up and down of her shoulders.

Tears continued to fall from Salvatore’s eyes even as saliva began to fill his mouth and his fear and self-loathing slowly gave way to the growing fire beginning to kindle in the pit of his stomach. The sound of his muffled sobs of anguish and arousal escaping from behind his hands causes Nadine’s face to immediately fall, agony replacing the previously wild look her face held.

“N… N-no. No no, please don’t cry. It’s alright. I-I-I’m not going to hurt you… I mean it… see… I don’t have any weapons on me” Nadine says hurriedly, standing up and doing a spin to show that nothing that could pose potential harm to Salvatore was hiding between the folds or frills of the thin garment. “See! Nothing to hide.”

Salvatore merely closed his tear soaked eyes and shook his head, the motion moving his whole body along with it. “Nooooooooooo… y-you d-don’t… under-s-stand…”

“What do you mean? What don’t I understand?” Nadine asked, kneeling back down to the ground, moving slightly closer to Salvatore than she was before, a terrifyingly genuine look of concern and worry etched into her beautiful features.

The mutant man fought back a wave of nausea and choked on a sob at the angelic sight. Hoards of hormones equating to despair and arousal battle within the hellish confines of Salvatore’s brain. The mutant man was filled with so many mixed emotions that he genuinely couldn’t tell if he wanted to tear himself apart until not a scrap of evidence of his existence remained, or if he wanted to just spring forward and consume the delectably dangerous morsel that sat so prettily before him, like an octopus latching itself upon the almighty great white shark as it just passes above their home, pulling the now helpless and unsuspecting predator down into the depths of a true monster’s domain.

“Hey, come on now. It sounds like you’re having a hard time breathing. Why don’t you come out of the corner where the air’s a little fresher, ya?” The young woman coaxes gently, moving ever so slightly closer to Salvatore as she speaks. The movement does not go unnoticed by the hooded man, nor does the way it pushes her dress even further up her already decently exposed thighs, but with little ability to stop Nadine’s incremental advances, Salvatore merely buries his face into his hands, blocking as much of his disgustingly bloated maw as he possibly could, even as the young woman attempted to change her angle to get a better look at him.

“P-p-please… jus-just stop!” Salvatore commands, suddenly filled with a wave of confidence that abandons him just as quickly as it arrived. “j-j-j… j-just… g-go… please…”

A light mist has become visible in the light reflecting off of Nadine’s eyes, the young woman looking truly saddened by the strange man’s utter rejection of her. Whether it was out of pity for Salvatore’s sake, or fear of her own impending isolation should the likes of Salvatore even reject her company, the hooded man could neither tell, nor did he really want to know.

“Well that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone trying to be your friend now is it? I might not look as normal as I used to but I’m not here to cause any trouble” Nadine scolds lightly, her voice strong, though even Salvatore can detect a slight wobble. “But… if you can give me a valid reason why I should leave, then… then I’ll do it, no questions asked.”

A valid reason? What other reason did she need than to get away from him?

Salvatore takes a moment to wipe away some of the tears that coated his face, slightly peeking out to look at the younger woman once again before speaking. “Y-you… you can’t… s-stay here… th-this place… it i-isn’t… isn’t g-good enough f-for you… it’s… i-its not w-worthy… I-i… I’m… n-not worthy… of you…”

Nadine shifts slightly closer once again, a pained look cut into her face like a raging storm cuts through large waves out in the open ocean. Her whole body was a sea of turbulent waters as she gingerly reached her hand forward, slowly but surely inching her way closer to Salvatore, until her wine dark fingers just barely brushed against the thick, rugged fabric of his overcoat.

Silence befell the two mutants, permeating the room with tension so thick and heavy Salvatore thought he might suffocate.

The cornered man could not bring himself to look up as Nadine’s delicate fingers gently latched on to the article of clothing covering his wretched and disgusting form. Salvatore shuddered as he prepared himself for what was inevitably to come once Nadine removed his overcoat: the biting cold of the surrounding area pinching and nipping at his thick, but sensitive flesh; another shrill shriek of fear and terror that would pierce him to his very core; the sound of Nadine, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, immaculate Nadine, fleeing not just the underground tunnels that had lead her to discover this place, but also the reservoir, never to be seen again.

Salvatore wouldn’t blame her for this choice, of course. After all, it’s what he would do if he found himself trapped with a wretched creature as grotesque and pitiful as he himself was. Death wasn’t an option Salvatore had the luxury of entertaining, but he never blamed others if they chose it over him.

He would too, if he could.

Despite his earlier expectations, the hand on his coat never moves to take the garment off the trembling man, instead, moving to gently run along the side of Salvatore’s head, down his shoulders, before resting itself softly, but firmly, along the area of growths that covered the small of his back. After taking a moment to allow the violent trembling of Salvatore’s body, in response to the young woman’s gentle caresses, to calm down to something more manageable, Nadine slowly lifts her left hand and rests it on the opposite side of the hunched-over man’s head, yet she makes no move to try and take his cloak off or remove his face from his hands.

Stillness and silence return for a brief moment, almost as though Nadine were waiting for Salvatore to raise objection to her advances and stop her, as if he had the power or control to do anything but cower in the corner and cover his growing excitement in shame. With no explicit objections voiced, the hands resting gently around Salvatore began to slowly pull him toward Nadine’s body.

“Come here” Nadine’s soft, heavenly voice commands lightly, as Salvatore’s body does as instructed with no resistance whatsoever. A broken sob of humiliating arousal escapes the hooded man when he gently falls forward into Nadine’s lap, her arms quickly moving to wrap around and hold the hooded man against her soft, warm, and strong body.

“Shhhh, it’s alright. There’s no need to be so worked up. You have nothing to be afraid of, here” Nadine coos soothingly, as her hand gently caresses his thin, leather covered arm.

Salvatore cries pitifully as the painfully comforting words and actions make him want to vomit from overjoy. “Y-you… you d-dont unders-s-stand…” the hunched man weeps, his voice slightly muffled by his knees as he continues trying to hide his face by shoving it as far between his legs as he’s physically capable.

“What don’t I understand? Could you explain it to me?” Nadine asks, patiently holding the sobbing mess of a man firmly against herself as he collects himself enough to answer.

“I-it isn’t… you… th-that I f-fear…” Salvatore begins, trailing off as another wave of cold dread and fiery desire collide violently somewhere deep inside the hooded man’s chest.

“What is it that you’re afraid of then? If not... me?” The young woman’s angelic voice questioned, the slightly fearful and worried tone of her voice toward the end of her question, as if what Salvatore thought of her was even worth her precious time to worry about, made the mutant man’s stomach wretch sickeningly.

“I-I… I f-fear… oh god-” Salvatore began, before promptly shutting up and shoving Nadine as far away from him as he could from that angle, throwing himself to the floor, on his hands and knees, in the opposite direction just as a wave of acidic bile forces its way from the confines of the man’s mouth and out onto the floor in front of him. His own hideous reflection stares back at him in the growing puddle of stomach acid once he’s done.

A spiteful reminder from the universe of what he was and why he lived the way that he did.

Drunkenly reaching his hand forward to smear the vomit puddle around so he at least didn’t have to look at himself AND sit in his own filth while he gathered the energy to get up and wash off in the lake, Salvatore missed the way Nadine’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the man’s clumsy movements, before suddenly widening as she realized what the hooded man was doing.

“No, wait! Don’t touch that, it’ll only make you feel worse if you fiddle around with that nasty stuff” Nadine says hurriedly, as she rushes forward to take Salvatore’s moving hand in her own and presses it firmly against her bosom to prevent the man from playing around in his own throw up. She gasps in shock and her grip tightens around Salvatore’s hand, as though she’d suddenly remembered something important she’d forgotten about and Salvatore’s hand had brought it back to her conscious mind, before shaking her head and pulling herself from her thoughts.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, let me wipe your face for you, and try to take deeper, slower breaths while you’re at it. You’ve managed to work yourself into such a panic that it's no wonder you’re throwing up all over yourself.”

The room is spinning far too fast and in far too many different directions for Salvatore to really be sure what’s going on, however the feeling of Nadine’s skin pressed against his own as she tenderly raised the edge of her pristine white dress to wipe away the lines of green acidic bile that had been left on Salvatore’s lip, was a sensation of euphoria unlike anything the hooded man has ever felt before in his entire life.

Not even Mother Miranda’s own embrace felt quite as… ‘brutal’ wasn’t the appropriate word to use based on its true definition, but in that instance it's the only word that Salvatore can think of to describe how intense everything around him, Nadine especially, feels at the present moment. Her touch, her scent, her warmth, her weight, her firm grip around him, the constant rhythmic thrum of her heart beat against his cold, bony hand, all of it was so intensely brutal that it was a wonder how the combined effect didn’t beat him into the floor. It was too much for Salvatore to handle all at once, and yet he knew that if the kind angel sitting next to him retracted so much as a single one of those sensations, he’d lose himself to insanity like careless swimmers lose themselves to sudden rapid currents.

Salvatore threw up 3 more times before his stomach finally allowed him the relief the hooded man had desperately been craving. The floor was an absolute mess by this point, but thanks to Nadine, who’d managed to keep his upper body upright the whole time, Salvatore hadn’t made nearly as much of a mess of himself as he normally did, though that still didn’t fix the primary problem that had resulted in all that vomiting.

“There we go. That must feel a lot better, huh?” Nadine asks calmly, pulling Salvatore in to rest against her chest once again, his face still turned downward and away in avoidance.

Although Salvatore does not grace her question with a response, the hooded man has long since given up trying to get away from the young woman, at this point just allowing her to move him however she pleased, taking in as much of her kindness and affection as he possibly could, before she inevitably hightails it out of here, of course. It was only a matter of time, at this rate.

“You know… you’re a lot bigger than I expected you to be” comes a sudden declaration from Nadine, breaking the silence that had permeated throughout the room and immediately pulling Salvatore from his dejected whimpering.

“I mean… I suppose I should have expected that, especially since most middle schoolers are taller than me, nowadays” the young woman continues with a lighthearted chuckle, “but you looked so small and stump-like from all the way up in that stupid pod that I couldn’t help but be a little surprised when I felt you had arms and legs. You could have very well had a snake for a body for all I knew and I still don’t think I’d have been as surprised, though this huge coat you're wearing certainly doesn’t make getting a good look at you very easy.”

“Th… that’s th-the point…” Salvatore mumbles, though seemingly more to himself than anyone else.

“Really? And why is that?” Nadine asks curiously, clearly having heard the older man’s muttering.

“I-if… if you k-knew me… you’d know… th-the answer to that q-question” Salvatore replies sadly, fresh tears beginning to prickle along his lower lid, threatening to spill over as the depressing reality of his meaningless existence makes itself more than obvious.

He was a filthy monster who deserved to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable, because why would something as unholy as him ever be worthy of anything else?

“Oh, now I don’t think that’s true at all. After all, I’d like to think I know you pretty well, and I still want to see what you look like” Nadine counters, her words shocking Salvatore beyond belief.

She… knew him? How? When? In what ways? What?

The only other time they’ve ever interacted was back in Mother Miranda’s laboratory. While the hooded man supposed his gifts could be aiding in Nadine’s surprisingly positive impression of him, he hesitated to call receiving a dress and a necklace from a random stranger “knowing” someone. How on earth could she say she knew him when, for all intents and purposes, they’ve only just met?

“B-b-but… h-how… how d-do you k-know… m-me? Y-you have… t-trouble… seeing… d-dont you? D-did… did y-you see me… b-back in the l-lab?” Salvatore asks, tears belonging to an unspecified emotion once again beginning to fall as a hand moves to gently grasp at the bones lining the top of his hood.

“Unfortunately no, I wasn’t able to get a good look at you before, hence why I was trying so hard to catch a glimpse of you earlier. You are, however, right in the assumption about my eyesight. I have severely impaired vision, yes, but it's manageable with a strong enough prescription; not that I see myself getting to an eye doctor anytime soon for a new pair of contacts. But even without my contact lenses, I can still make out general movements, as well as general shapes and colors, pretty easily from far away, it's just fine details from a distance and darkness that give me the most trouble. My vision is actually perfectly normal so long as whatever I’m looking at is within a few feet of me. If I looked down right now, I’d probably be able to see your face normally. Do you hide your face away from everyone around here?” the young woman asks curiously, gently pulling the dark fabric of the hood back, slowly revealing Salvatore��s face to the dim light of the room, even as her gaze remained locked on the wall behind them.

“N-not… e-everyone… th-there’s a f-few… who… who I sh-show my f-face to… regularly” Salvatore chokes.

Really?” Nadine asks, “like who?”

“M-my… siblings.”

“Oh, so you’re not the only one around here then? Are your siblings here in the reservoir?”

“N-no… th-they live… in o-other places… of th-their own… a-around the v-village.”

“Wow, so there is more of this place to explore, then!” Nadine states excitedly. “I’d love to get out and see more of the area for myself at some point, though I doubt that’s very wise given the amount of howling I’ve heard the past few nights and the fact I don’t know my way around this area... though, even if I did, that memory is probably long gone along with the fucking rest of them… not that I would have wanted to hold onto them anyways, I don’t think.”

Salvatore’s attention is caught by the last bit of Nadine’s statement, confusion filling him over what the younger woman could possibly mean by what she’d just said. “‘G-gone along w-with the rest o-of them?’... W-what… d-does that… what d-do you m-mean?”

Nadine remains silent for a moment as she continues to absentmindedly stroke the side of Salvatore’s head, the hooded man unable to tell what she could possibly be feeling right now without risking exposing his face to her.

Thankfully, Nadine resumes speaking before Salvatore loses patience and gets too risky. “My memory of the life I had before waking up in that damn pod is foggy at absolute best, but I don’t need my memories to know that I wasn’t very happy with my previous life and that I was actively trying to get away from it somehow. What exactly was I even running from and where was I going? Who knows, and frankly I don’t care to relearn it either. I do think it's quite funny that you were talking about me needing to go somewhere else because this place isn’t good enough for me though, because honestly, even if I could somehow get the hell out of here, it's not like I’d have anywhere else to go. Getting away from the shitty life I had before is probably how I ended up here to begin with, though if I’d known this was how things would end up I might have reconsidered throwing it all away so suddenly.”

Had it not been for Mother Miranda being there for him throughout the years, Salvatore would probably think much the same way as Nadine about the whole situation, but having Mother meant he always had a purpose and a goal to work towards, so it didn’t matter that Salvatore couldn’t return to his old life. What shocked the deformed man the most however, was the fact that Nadine appeared to not only already accept the fact that she couldn’t go back to her former life, but seemed to actively be searching for something, anything new to try and fill the void that had been left behind by the life she’d, more or less, willingly gave away to come up here.

Could… could this mean…?

“Thankfully my ability to make new memories doesn’t seem to have been fucked up at all, which I’m quite happy about since I'll be needing to make a lot to fill in the empty spaces in my brain. We met for the first time in the underground laboratory I was being kept in, though I suppose it was less ‘meeting’ and more ‘seeing’ for the first time, but… still. I don’t know why you were there, or who was with you at the time, but I remember waking up just before you were about to leave. There were a couple others who’d come, before you, to look at me and a couple others for some reason, but you were the one who stuck out the most, to me. You were… special!”

Shock and dumbfounded awe nearly choke the life right out of Salvatore. He could barely comprehend a single word the young woman was saying to him, yet he clung to every heavenly syllable she uttered like they were the foundations of the word of god itself. The pain and agony he normally felt due to his cadou mutations momentarily paused, slowly weaning from its usual constant thrum to a dull numbness that felt surprisingly euphoric in all it’s nothingness.

“S-special? Me?” Salvatore breathed, almost unable to believe the words, even as Nadine hummed in affirmation of their truth. “B-but… how…?”

The giddy chuckle Salvatore’s mundane question pulled from Nadine shook the deformed man to his very core. Her girlish laughter rattles violently around inside the deformed man’s head, playing the sweet, holy tune over and over again, like a broken record that Salvatore would happily go insane listening to for the rest of eternity if he could.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’d have assumed you knew exactly what you were doing with how sweetly you talked back there, why it's almost criminal how suavely you stroked and tugged at the strings of my delicate heart. All the others were so rude, boring, and/or annoying that I thought I might die if I ended up stuck with one of them, but then you came in and swept me right off my feet. It was like nothing else I’ve ever felt before and immediately told me that you weren’t like all the others, you were a kind man and if I ever ran into you I could tell I’d be able to trust you…” Nadine trails off for a moment. “When I learned that we were being moved out of containment and onto our “permanent homes”, I hoped and prayed that I’d be lucky enough to end up wherever you were, but I didn’t want to get too excited until I found out for certain.”

“Th-then how did y-you know… it-it was me?”

“How could I possibly not? You set yourself apart from all the others right out of the gate. I'm honestly shocked you don’t remember it yourself. But there's not a single doubt in my mind that I know exactly who you are… er- well, I suppose a more appropriate way of putting that would be “I know exactly who you are to me”, not that what other people say or think has ever really been something I’ve taken with more than a grain of salt” Nadine giggle beautifully, smiling kindly as she cradled Salvatore’s hoodless, tear soaked face against her, like he were the most precious thing she’d ever laid eyes upon and wanted to hold and protect him until the end of time.

Unable to look away any longer, Salvatore allows his head to rise from his knees until it settles upon the face of the woman currently cradling him in her arms. Her gaze remained turned away from Salvatore for a moment, though for some reason the hooded man had a feeling that it was more out of respect for him and his boundaries than a lack of desire to see his face.

What a strange thing, to be treated with more kindness, love, and respect from a complete stranger than from the majority of people you interact with.

Salvatore wanted to cry when Nadine’s golden eyes finally lowered to him, her face slowly shifting downwards until their noses were little more than an inch apart from one another, though whether his tears were from agony or ecstasy, even he couldn’t properly tell at the present moment. Only one question was on his mind and the deformed man would stop at nothing until he got an answer for it.

“W-who… who am I-I… t-to y-you?” Salvatore asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he forces himself to stare directly into the endless pool of honey yellow swirling around in her irises, wanting-no… needing to know, to see with his own two eyes, what exactly he was to this woman, and whether that answer would spell endless disaster for him and his deep seeded desires, or be the key that unlocks a world of possibilities almost as endless as the spheres of gold that Salvatore finds himself unable, or rather unwilling, to tear his gaze from, lest this be the first, and last time he ever be blessed enough to see them from this close.

A long moment of silence passes as Nadine returns Salvatores gaze, the fondness of her expression only growing as she lowers her forehead to rest against his, a soft, almost breathlessly enamored expression that he’d only seen on black and white screens cast toward men eons more pleasant to look at than he was, slowly spread across her perfect face as she finally answers Salvatore’s question.

“You’re the lovely man who held my hand!”

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green-like-pine-trees · 4 years ago

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Ruby and Yang - Risk’s Heart to Heart

There’s so much to this scene, man. Let me do a play by play of all the acting and body language in this scene.

I absolutely love seeing Ruby sad and hugging the stair balusters.

I love the use of scenery and body language. Sometimes we feel so hopeless and upset we start hugging staircase balusters, and that’s something I can relate to. Her body is faced away from the room with all the people in it, and she’s made a small space for herself by curling up against something being blocked. It’s like, you know you’re in despair and want some form of grounding, but you don’t feel ready/comfortable yet to get that from another person: you kinda wanna get lost in your own sorrow. She’s just so defeated, man.

The rest under the cut because the photos make this a long one.

Then we have Yang, who sees that Ruby wants some space, so she doesn’t try to approach her directly. She breaks the ice with a pick me up – she’s complimenting Ruby on one of her victories in hopes it’ll bring some levity to her sister, who is currently despairing over being unable to make progress regardless of her effort. We know Yang doesn’t really care that Ruby defeated the grim, her eyes not even really focusing on it as her foot plays with the knight absentmindedly. The framing of these shots are great as both Yang and Ruby are made to look small and unimportant among the large hall. It doubles to show how Ruby is feeling, and that what Yang’s talking about doesn’t really matter to either of them.

Yang’s also got what we call a “power pose” it’s something people do to appear more confident. She needs to prepare herself to deal with Ruby’s issues and be the bigger sister.

Ruby ignores everything her sister says. You know you can’t fool your sister, Yang. You both know now’s not the time to talk about the Hound. Then Ruby says this line:

Yang sighs and steels herself. Big sister time. Conceal don’t feel. But when Ruby comes right out with it, she can’t stop herself. We even see her gasping and looking up as she tries to stop the tears from flowing.

She then crouches down and hides her face. She doesn’t want to be seen by anyone, doesn’t want to feel this vulnerability. (Again, both of them are made to look so small).

Like idc what anyone says, it’s entirely possible to cry like this. (I’ve cried like this before, which is why I empathize with both of them so much). Sometimes the emotions are so blocked out, it’s like a dam when it bursts, and not always are we ready for them when they do. Salem really took away her mom, and there’s nothing she can do about it. We’ve never really seen Yang be vulnerable about Summer, however, that doesn’t necessarily negate any trauma she might’ve repressed inside.

But Yang, she’s got to keep composure. She’s gotta be the bigger sister, quickly trying to wipe away and stop her tears.

There’s also this tiny moment where we see fear in Ruby’s eyes – either fear her mom was turned into a grimm against her will, or the fact that she could be taken away from her loved ones just as easily as her mother.

Then, after Yang’s concerned “Ruby...”, Ruby pivots to the reason she’s out here in the first place. The silver eyed stuff was just another worry she had, something to avoid confronting the main issue at hand. Because, if Ruby talks about the silver eyed thing, then she gets to be the victim. It’s a poor comfort, being the fearful victim, but it’s better than being the persecutor of your own failure.

Then, there’s this moment of frustration at her own perceived ineptitude.

She’s still not quite looking at Yang. These feelings aren’t directed at Yang. I’d also like to point out how small her eyes shinies are in this scene. It really reinforces how empty and hopeless she feels.

But then, when Yang gets closer, Ruby gets all closed off again.

She doesn’t want to escape her loathing, be dissuaded by an outside opinion that might tell her what she knows as true is a lie. This self hug is also what is called a self soothing gesture. We subconsciously do it in order to comfort ourselves and regulate our emotions.

Then I think this next moment kinda speaks for itself. Yikes.

Yang knows her sister doesn’t hate her, that she’s not out right rejecting her. Ruby’s hurt, and Yang’s concerned because she loves her.

I also love it when Yang stumbles with her words here. Like this how actual people stutter and speak, repeating whole words before pressing forward.

Again, all these shots where we can’t see Ruby’s eye shinies convey how distant and full of despair she is. It’s a big contrast to this next part as they are blown out and Ruby allows herself to really feel vulnerable – being “childish”, something she was berating herself for just moments before.

“Let it out Ruby, I’m here for you” is what this image says.

Anyways.

I love it when characters get to be vulnerable.

#wow I didn't mention Oscar Pine once this is a new record #RWBY #Rwby v8 #RWBY volume 8 #RWBY 8x11 #RWBY Risk #Ruby Rose #Yang Xiao Long #RWBY meta #Geartalk

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fuzzyporcupine · 4 years ago

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lead me with your hands tied | chapter 7

chapters:

FULL - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

rating: explicit

word count: 15,443

summary:

In the midst of a crumbling kingdom at war, Levi Ackerman is commissioned by King Jaeger to paint a portrait of his overzealous son.

chapter 7:

Eren entered the studio with more than enough time to spare. Not in any way dressed for a portrait, but on time nonetheless. Thankfully, Levi only needed to accomplish a sketch today. The attire could be forgiven for now.

Eren leaned against the doorframe, a tight golden waistcoat highlighting the man’s frame.

“I see your illness has faded, Your Highness.” Levi continued to clear his workstation as the prince sighed dramatically.

“As you commanded, artist.” Levi’s fingers stilled over the brushes. He thought about the venom he’d spewed at the prince in the bedroom. Thought about how angry he had been as he marched out of the room. The guards hadn’t paid him any mind as he shuffled back to the studio with tight fists and a furrowed brow, well-warned by Petra. The time alone had allowed him to decompress, to curb his thinking from wrapping his hands around the prince’s neck to that of a brush instead.

“Quite,” Levi muttered, returning to shuffling through his supplies. The sound of advancing footsteps bounced off the stone as Eren approached him from behind. He felt a headache beginning to swell deep beneath his eyes. One that would surely only add fuel to this infuriating fire. Bringing thin fingers between his brow, Levi pressed gently against the soft skin. Usually, he could simply will the pain away. Could push the ache into the dark abscesses of his mind to be reignited on another day. However, now with Eren’s gaze demanding attention, he was finding it hard to ignore the subtle throbbing.

“Are you alright?” The prince’s breath fluttered delicately over the back of his neck, twisting heat around the bones of his spine. And he hated it, almost as much as he despised the goddamn royal family. Hated the way Eren was able to pick and probe these reactions out of him as if he were some young girl vying to lose her maidenhead. It was unequivocally, irrevocably insane. To be nearing his thirtieth year and still acting like a young boy going through puberty. Levi could curse himself - curse the dreadful prince, as well.

He turned around slowly, cautious of the ever-growing pounding ricocheting inside of his skull. Levi expected to see a smug grin, a look of enjoyment over his suffering. He figured that Eren would be all the more pleased to find that his own drunken aliment had seemingly shifted its host over to Levi. The irony was indeed thick, Levi supposed. However, instead of a gleeful smirk and self-righteous glare, Levi found a wrinkled brow. Eyes that were normally so wide and full of pride were now narrowed and searching, darting quickly across Levi’s face. Thin lips pressed tight as Levi’s fingers dropped to fiddle with the sleeve of his linen shirt.

“It’s just a headache,” he mumbled wearily, watching the way Eren’s brows pulled a little tighter. “I’m fine.” There was a short pause, and then the prince was nodding, feet shuffling backward against the hard grey stone. The whole scene was baffling. More so than when Eren stormed into the dining room in nothing but nightclothes. The thought had his palms going sweaty against the white fabric still being fussed about between dexterous fingers.

Eren stared at him, looking one half bewildered and the other half perturbed. Finally, the man cleared his throat. “Petra knows a great remedy for those. Tastes like shit but does its job,” Eren laughed awkwardly. The sound had his toes curling uncomfortably in his boots. The prince looked away then, sparkling eyes roving over the blank open canvas. “Where do you want me?”

“The fireplace,” he said without hesitation. Levi remembered how the location had called so loudly to him. The elegant lines, the stone etched to perfection. His only hope would be that the backdrop would not upstage the prince himself. It would be a far cry, though, as loathe as Levi was to admit it.

Eren was a handsome man, a strong jaw and high cheekbones. Thick dark brows hovering over fierce wide eyes that almost verged on too large. An artist’s muse in all aesthetic senses.

The aching in his skull had thankfully drizzled off into a manageable thud by the time Eren found a spot in front of the fireplace. The man hovered there, hands gracelessly hanging off to the side. It was slightly satisfying to see Eren looking so out of place especially after being so often on the receiving end of the prince’s brash humor.

“I believe that I’m at a bit of a loss here, artist,” Eren admitted, sagging broad shoulders with a heavy sigh.

Levi looked boredly over the edge of the canvas. “Haven’t you done this before?” Eren bristled marginally at that, and Levi had to fight back a devilish grin.

“When I was twelve!” The prince’s voice cracked hilariously and a fabulous flush crept up onto the man’s cheeks as Levi watched Eren sway anxiously back and forth. He took pity on the poor soul, scoffing as he placed the pencil down on the table next to the empty canvas. Standing, Levi gave Eren an assessing look, analyzing the man’s position as he stepped closer.

“Act natural.” Eren huffed crudely at the comment, spine stiffening beneath Levi’s stare. The stance was similar to a toy soldier Levi once owned as a child, wooden limbs ramrod straight at the sides. While appealing to a figurine young boys and girls could play with, the posture was thoroughly horrid for a portrait. An artist’s muse in all aesthetic senses, Levi reminded himself. “Now you look like you need to take a royal shit,” he chided, crossing his arms against a sturdy chest.

The blush on Eren’s cheeks deepened brilliantly. “You’re being far too vague,” the prince muttered quietly, pride effectively wounded. A small part of Levi wanted to reassure the man that the art of posing for a portrait did not come as natural as one would expect. However, a much larger part enjoyed seeing Eren’s tail tucked between his legs like a kicked dog.

“Relax your shoulders,” Levi said. Eren did as much, rolling them back into what appeared to be a much more comfortable position. “Now turn your body to the left.” He watched as Eren turned on his heels, eyes now facing the Jaeger family crest posted to the wall. Levi stepped forward. “Bring your chest towards me. For fuck’s sake, not your entire bloody body.”

Eren scowled, frustration clearly nearing the end of its rope. “This is damn near impossible.” That was a rather final word for it, Levi thought. The game had seemingly run its course, and despite his gratification over watching Eren squirm, he did not want to risk having the prince storm off in a snit like before.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” he surmised, thumb stroking the underside of a pointed chin. Confidence supporting his gait, Levi strode forward until he was within arm’s reach of the prince. “Face the wall again.” He watched the prince eye him up and down warily. “Before the sun falls, Your Highness.” Eren sighed irritably as the wide gaze was once again fashioned to the vibrant green tapestry.

“Absolutely impossible,” he heard Eren mutter quietly into the air. The breath was sucked straight back into the man’s lungs, however, when Levi wrapped tentative fingers around either side of the thin waist. Time seemed to still for a quiet moment, and the prince stiffened. The skin felt red hot beneath his touch, warmth seeping through the fabric and onto the pads of his fingertips. Could feel the way the muscles moved and flexed beneath the flesh as he twisted Eren’s upper half marginally to the right. Levi dropped the clutch, satisfied when the prince held the position without being corrected. Next, he grasped Eren’s right arm, bending it at the elbow before trailing his palm down to the man’s wrist.

“Take hold of your belt,” Levi requested.

“Rather uncouth of you to assume my innocence is so easily won, artist,” Eren jested, mouth pulling maddeningly at the corners. To hear the prince describe himself as innocent almost yanked a chuckle from his throat. Almost. Instead, he gifted the infuriating bastard with a deadly glower as he dropped his hand.

“Grab the damn belt.” With the instructions delivered, Levi turned and shuffled back over to the canvas, hoping that the grit of his teeth wasn’t too audible. The expectation that the pose would be held was minimal at best, nonexistent at worst. However, when Levi looked back over his shoulder he saw to his surprise that the stance was exactly as he’d envisioned - give or take the shit-eating grin.

Moving behind the blank linen, Levi selected a pencil from the complied lot of tools to begin the sketch. It was a soft, smooth grey. Perfect for capturing lines and easily covered with the drag of a brush. For now, he only needed to reproduce the simple shapes that would eventually be reconstructed into the prince’s form.

Hooded eyes only barely reached above the edge of the canvas, his short stature dwarfed by the coarse cloth. Levi typically didn’t work on portraits so large, and if he were capturing anyone other than the shitting smiling bastard before him, Levi might be apt to ask for a stool. As it was, he would rather face the entire Shiganshina army with only his paintbrushes as a means of defense.

He worked in relative silence, save for the scratching of the pencil across the linen. His gaze flitted quickly between the man and the canvas. Rough lines began to appear, boxy shapes symbolizing hands and shoulders.

“I beg your pardon if I’ve caused offense.” The statement caused a line to go astray. Levi swore quietly beneath his breath, rubbing away the error with the side of his hand. The prince would truly be the death of him. Perhaps literally.

To be quite honest, he was wholly surprised that Eren even had the ability to utter words that weren’t a vulgar insinuation or an infuriating quip. An apology was definitely not considered to be a part of the man’s vocabulary.

Levi's voice failed him as he tried to conjure up a worthy response. One that would likely tell Eren which unspeakable place the man could shove the pleas of forgiveness. Instead, Levi was left to hide shamefully behind the canvas as he attempted to avoid Eren’s pointed stare.

“You simply intrigue me.” Levi’s breath caught painfully in his throat. Intrigued? He had no idea how to respond to such a claim. One was intrigued by the leaves morphing colors on the trees or the way the stars glittered brightly at night. But Levi? Intriguing? He should perish the thought.

When Levi looked up, an unyielding stare immediately sought out his eyes. “I can assure you,” he finally said, voice not quite as steely as he’d hoped, “that this curiosity is misplaced.” Levi watched as the man’s posture slipped. “As is your right arm.” The prince quickly righted himself back into position.

“How self-loathing,” Eren muttered.

Levi ignored the quip, returning to the sketch. To anyone else, the scribbles would be puzzling. A scattered mess of unconnected dots and lines. However, Levi recognized the sketch for what it was - the beginning of a potential masterpiece. The majority of the prince’s outline lined the canvas. Hands, legs, arms, and torso all sketched to represent an estimated length and width. Levi had saved the face for last. It was, without question, the most crucial element of the portrait. Oftentimes, he had been asked to substitute hands that were thought to look too old or bellies that appeared to be too fat. But the face was always that of the owner’s. He gazed at Eren’s now, noticing how the intensity behind the man’s eyes had not diminished even with Levi’s blunt rebuttal. He tried to read them, to find something within the swirling depths. Though it was unclear to Levi what he was even looking for. Sarcasm? Ridicule?

Curiosity?

He scoffed softly to himself, eyes falling away from Eren’s commanding stare.

The face would have to wait until the morrow when his head was sat correctly on his shoulders. Regardless, the fireplace still needed to be outlined into the background, something that would not require Eren’s presence.

“We are finished for today, Your Highness,” Levi said, bowing slightly. The rumblings of the headache reawakening began to whistle between his ears. Unlike the others, Levi couldn’t help but feel as if this one was well-deserved. Thinking so deeply about how Eren perceived him or what the man’s intentions were would do nothing but drive him utterly mad.

The prince relaxed, falling out of the chosen position. “Thank the gods.” Levi did feel at least a modicum of sympathy for the man. Despite his chiding, Eren had remained steady for the majority of the session. It was more than he could say for most clients. “Will you require me again tomorrow?” Levi nodded, pencil going back to work as he etched out the beginnings of the fireplace. “Good. I shall require you, as well.”

The line crooked to the side as his hand twitched.

Eren’s boots clicked against the floor as he approached the canvas. “Meet me in the courtyard after breakfast is served.” Levi looked up at the man as if he had grown two heads. In actuality, that feat might have been more realistic than the thought of Levi Ackerman campaigning with a member of the Jaeger family after breakfast. The very idea had his gut twisting in a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. “Until tomorrow, artist.”

And with that, Eren took his exit, leaving behind a very befuddled - if not slightly captivated (though he would wholly deny it) - Levi to wonder what glorious plan the prince had in store.

#ereri fanfic #ereri #riren #fic: lead me with your hands tied #another day another chapter

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birdwonder · 5 years ago

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just thought of the idea of Rohan using his stand on reader and seeing on their page they have a big crush on josuke so Rohan either teases them or helps them get together. i think the idea is cute

|| i am SO sorry this took a while longer than i usually take to write. my holiday has left me without a computer so writing long stories takes forever on a phone but i hope these 3,000 words make up for it :,) its 3am so i doubt i editted properly so ill go through it again tomorrow

Josuke Higashikata | Rohan’s Help / Confession

You and Rohan have been friends for a short time. Less than a year to be honest, and yet you two felt like you were as thick as thieves — an unstoppable duo when it came to your friendship. Both of you complimented each other so well, you being able to improve Rohan’s social skills and how he treated others, and Rohan had been making progress with you to be more confident. A kind yet self-loathing highschool student who is best friends with a prideful and stuck up manga artist, who would have thought?

In the small amount of time you two have known each other, you both have been able to pick on small quirks you had and tell-tale signs of your moods. For example, you were currently leaning on the side of Rohan’s desk as he scribbled away on a piece of paper, desperately trying to figure out a new and inventive pose for his next manga page. Your blank, dull eyes staring into the distance and lack of encouraging comments was all Rohan needed to know that something was up with you. Of course, he wasn’t the best at comfort, not when it’s so early into his progress of becoming a better person, so jumping straight to sympathy and questions was not his go-to plan.

“So, what do you think so far?” Rohan questioned with hope, holding up his sketch book with one hand and gesturing towards it with another, hoping that your thoughts on his work would be at least distracting enough from whatever was plaguing your mind. Unfortunately, you only glanced towards the sheet of stunning, detailed figures and hummed halfheartedly before returning to look at absolutely nothing with your chin pressed into the centre of your palm.

Groaning, the artist tore out the page dramatically to then scrunch it up into a tight paper ball, throwing it into the trash-can beside him in a small fit of annoyance. “Right then,” he burst out abruptly, two hands slamming on his desk and his chair scraping backwards as he got up to emphasis his change in mood, “you’re going to tell me what’s wrong right now because right now I can NOT figure out how to draw this next panel, and I can’t do it when you’re sitting here like a... a...”

“Like a what?” You piped up, one brow quirked up which gave you an atypically fed up expression, one so cold it almost sent shivers down Rohan’s spine.

“Like a killjoy!” He finally said, huffing and puffing his cheeks out. “You’re just sitting there, staring like a corpse and I’m actually trying to talk to you!”

Then, you faltered. Your tightly pressed lips tilted downwards and your brows lowered, returning your expression to it’s well known gentle and kind look, something Rohan had greatly missed the last hour or so. “Oh, I’m sorry Rohan, it’s just, oh never mind.” You mumble your last words, a strange pink tint along your cheeks that didn’t go unnoticed by the man who valued every single detail he saw.

Rohan then grabbed your shoulders firmly, forcing you to turn and look at him, his eyes narrowed with an intense stare boring into your own pupils. “[F/N], I refuse to take that as an answer, so let’s try again shall we? What. Is. The matter?”

You gulped a little, sucking in your breath while debating whether or not to tell your trusted companion about the problem that ridiculed you or not. You opted no. With a shake of your head, you gave an apologetic look and your frown only went deeper, “sorry Rohan, it’s really stupid and I just don’t want to say it. I mean, it can’t be solved anyways, so I’m sure I’ll get over it soon!” You placed a hand on his shoulder and forced yourself to smile a little, your heart swelling with some joy over the fact Rohan had clearly grown as a person - showing that he cared for the problems that bedevilled you was one large step from where he was when you first met. “Thank you though, really.”

Your gratitude and certainty may have been enough to rest anyone else’s soul, but not Rohan’s. He simply would not take ‘no’ for an answer. Sighing, he released his grip on you, giving you the message that he wasn’t going to pry anymore until he spoke, “I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice.”

Before you could question his words a familiar cry of “Heaven’s Door,” was yelled and you felt your body slowly feel lighter, almost weightless as you watched the skin on your face and arms unfold to reveal small prints of words, words you knew revealed everything there was to know about [F/N] [L/N].

Resistance was futile as you struggled to shift away from Rohan’s approaching form, the back of the chair and the wall behind you trapping you inbetween, prayers being your only tactic of getting out of the hectic situation. “Now let’s see,” Rohan hummed, taking a gentle hold of the pages attached to your face between his thumb and index finger, his eyes scanning each word carefully as though missing a single one would be detrimental.

“Rohan, please don’t,” you begged, fear arising in you from the idea that he would find out the cause of your sullen mood. Fear that was quickly picked up on.

“[F/N] [L/N], sixteen years old... Birthday is... Ah, here we are, something more modern. Cereal for breakfast, and currently stressing over the idea that Josuke Higashikata won’t like her...” Rohan’s out loud reading soon quietened and the look he gave you could only be summarised to ‘really?’

Once he pulled away from you, Heaven’s Door effects subsided and your skin was no longer detached from you. You sighed with relief that you were no longer in such a vulnerable state, calm until you began to lightly pound your fists against Rohan’s chest, unable to actually hurt him since you didn’t have to heart to. “Rohan, that was private information, how could you?!”

Rohan clicked his tongue, using only a finger to press against your forehead to push you away. The perks of you being so docile was getting you to stop any hint of aggression was easier than reciting the alphabet.

“I did it for you so I could help you with your problem!” He argued in attempt to defend himself and cringed slightly, speaking with venom in his voice. “How was I supposed to know that you were so worked up over that idiot and not something sensible?”

“He is not an idiot!” You retorted since you hated whenever either Rohan or Josuke insulted each other. Those two really had the potential to be friends with each other, they just never let it work. Regardless, your main concern was the fact your true feelings were revealed and in the worst possible way. You hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about how you feel, not when you were for sure that it wouldn’t matter in the end.

Josuke ... he was amazing. Friendly, strong, funny and whenever he looked with you with those kind eyes and a smile on his plush lips, your heart stopped only to restart beating 1000 beats per minute. You were certain that he was the most perfect person you had ever met, and every memory with him was greatly treasured.

Though you were almost certain he didn’t feel the same. You felt so small compared to him, figuratively that is, and everything he was good at, you seemed to fail at. Confidence, strength, styling the perfect pompadour; you couldn’t even compare to him, even if these all seemed like the most insignificant aspects ever. So, why would he want to be with someone who couldn’t reach his standards ? He wouldn’t.

Your internal self deprecation was silently evident to Rohan as you began to nibble on the bottom of your lip, dejectedly looking down like a lost puppy. No way was he going to let you keep that up, not when he had announced you as a friend to himself and actually cared about how you felt.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rohan groaned at what he was about to do although he knew it was going to be worth it if it meant you weren’t ruining your hang out times anymore. “Alright, we’re going to make you confess to Josuke.” He declared, catching you off guard, and you weren’t able to even question him as a single finger was suddenly pressed upon your lips, sealing your mouth shut with one simple movement.

“Listen and remember this well, [F/N], you are perfect the way you are and as much as I would hate to see Josuke gain anything he doesn’t deserve,” he paused to retract his hand from your face and instead ruffled your hair, treating you like a younger sibling for a second, “I know being with him would make you happy, so I’m going to help you confess your entirely questionable and possibly delusional love for that delinquent.”

You blinked up at Rohan a few times, mouth agape. There was no way that this was happening, just who was this guy and where was the real manga artist you knew?

“Rohan, I appreciate you wanting to help me, I really do, but there’s no need! It’s a lost cause, let’s just get back to what we were doing before - poses right?” Your attempt to change the subject was quickly brushed off like dust on Rohan’s shoulder when he pinched your nose, an audible ‘ow’ squeaking from you.

Your resistance to the situation was irking Rohan to no end, his drive only stepping on the gas each time you tried to refuse his assistance. There was no way he was going to let you suffer in silence. Besides, if he helped two young, dumb and lovesick teens get together then maybe he could have some insight on how to work around the more romantic scenes of his manga, if he was to ever implement them.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. This is going to happen and you’re going to thank me for it,” the green hair male stated, eyes heavily trained onto you. You gulped.

You really didn’t know where this was going to go.

——

A band of raging drums had surely replaced your heart.

The hammering sound of sticks against percussion instruments was practically akin to the violent, frantic rhythm that pounded against your chest with the diagnosis resulting to be nervousness.

You sucked in your breath and released the built up carbon dioxide by muttering words of encouragement that Rohan had taught you to rehearse to yourself in case of situations like this. Ironically, he was the one who had put you in this nervous wreck state. His vow to have you confess to Josuke had stuck through pretty solidly leaving you in a cute outfit you definitely could not have afford on your lonesome, [Thank you Rohan.] and standing in front of your crush’s door.

Gulping, you began to hype yourself up.

‘I can do this! I can totally do this. No problems here, none at all!’ The repeated phrases were practically a religious mantra at this point; if you were to even dare forget a single one you’re certain life would be a living Hell. Well your stresses shouldn’t matter anymore, you were here now. Just knock. Knock and say what’s on your mind!

The unremitting worries failed to cease however , eating at your brain like parasites that were only starting to leave once you gathered enough courage and balled your hand into a fist, rapped against the wooden door.

It took less than a minute for the door to be unlocked and opened, revealing the tall, well built figure of the one and only - Josuke. For some reason you felt as though none of this actually happening right there and then, like it was some dream or even a nightmare you were going to wake up from any second. You quickly rubbed your eyes to see if that was true. When you opened them, he was still there, his usual stylised school uniform replaced with a regular white t-shirt and dark blue jeans. It wasn’t an unwelcome look but certainly threw you off for a second seeing as it was rare to see him wear anything other than his uniform.

“[F/N], hey!” He greeted,his eyes seeming to light up at the sight of you while a hand gripped the door frame, “didn’t think it’d be you at the door. What’s up?”

The moment he smiled at you, you knew that you had to this. How he instantly had made you feel relaxed would have seemed impossible to you five minutes ago, now you felt as though things would go perfectly. If not for the persistent nagging voice in the back of your head.

“Hi Josuke! I was hoping that I could maybe uhm, talk to you! About something that is. Something really important.” Your wavering voice had caused some concern to flash in Josuke’s eyes; the way he looked down at you with such a caring expression made you want to hide your face into a pillow and squeal.

He responded easily with, “oh sure, is everything alright?” Really, you weren’t even sure if things were alright or if they were going to be at all.

You doubts rose up again and a jumbled ball of words was suddenly caught in your throat, countless words and ways to say your thoughts conjuring up but not a single thing is said. If only you had more confidence — Rohan had spent so long trying to get you to perfect your confession and despite all that effort, you were still struggling.

Glancing down, you noticed that your fingers were a plain sign of your awkwardness. They constantly switched from fiddling with the fabric of your outfit to thumbs twiddling with each other, neither things helping you in the end.

“[F/N]...? You don’t look like your usual self, where’s that cute smile of your’s, huh?”

Oh god, did he just call your smile ‘cute’? Did that just make talking even harder or ten times easier? This boy was going to be the death of you!

Teeth lightly nibbled on your low lip as you argued in your head what to do. You really don’t know if you could ever have the courage to even approach him like this, let alone think about asking him out. Besides, all of Rohan’s efforts would go to waste.

“Josuke!” The sudden change of your volume had clearly surprised the teenager, his brows raising. “I— I have something serious to tell you and I’m sorry for making it so weird so far, it’s just really hard to get through what I want to say.”

Facing him was just too much. You couldn’t handle the idea of looking up to see an uncomfortable, angered, disgusted or any expression that would send you hurdling down a pit of regret. Instead, you stared down at the ground although you paid no real attention to it, your hand clutching at the clothing over your heart, almost as though you were trying to steady the rapid beating drums within your ribcage.

Taking in a deep breath, you continue, “I’m not the best at being outgoing or confident, and as my friend I know you know that, and you’re the exact opposite! You’re bold and kind to everyone and everything about you is incredible. Saying this I think I fully realised why I lo—.”

Again, the words are caught in your throat and you’re visibly struggling, almost choking on what you want to say. None of it goes unnoticed by Josuke, who had been initially taken back by the praise and tone you were using. His smile quickly returned when things became obvious to him, much softer and sweeter than before, his plush lips turning upward all thanks to your adorable stuttering.

He reached out with a large and surprisingly softer than you would have guessed hand, his palm resting against your cheek as he guided you to look up at him with both your eyes staring into each other’s.

“Do you want to come inside?”

The question was short and simple though it still took some time to process. You made a small, questioning ‘eh’ sound to which Josuke laughed at.

“You don’t have to stress so much, whatever you’re going to say I’m sure I’m going to like hearing,” he told you, stepping to the side so that you now had room to enter his house, a hand gesturing for you to come inside. “Maybe things would be easier if we had something to drink? My mum’s not home so we can watch a movie too!”

You had no idea how things got to this but you didn’t want to ask. If what Josuke said was true and that he was really going to like whatever you said then, why rush? It was probably better to wait for when the atmosphere was much more relaxed anyways. Things just seemed more right that way. The relationship between you and Josuke were always so casual so it was best to confess just like that. He was a serious God send to be so nice and understanding.

You mouthed a ‘thank you’ before walking through the door with small pep in your step and butterflies swarming in a welcomed fashion in your stomach. Josuke followed you, closing the door behind him as the two of you started to strike up a conversation about your week and what movie the two of you wanted to watch, every worry and care flying free and becoming lost in the sky.

From across the street stood a smiling manga artist, ready to walk home with nothing but pride in his heart for his shy and growing friend. All he really had left to worry about was whether or not Josuke would treat you right.

#josuke higashikata #josuke x reader #jjba x reader #platonic #rohan x reader #but its platonic #request

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starlocked01 · 4 years ago

Text

Rivals to Soulmates Speedrun

AO3

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary: Logan is confident in his ability to compete academically. He's not prepared for the consequences of ignoring his team. Content Warning: Brief swearing, Kissing, one mild nsfw mention

Day 24 Loceit- When you first meet your soulmate you see a vision of the future. Modified so that the vision happens at their first touch.

"Alright I need everyone to focus. I don't know how we managed to get this far but we did and we are not going home empty handed," Logan looked each of his teammates in the eyes. He really did not know what miracle had gotten them all the way to the championship- no wait, yes he did. It was him. The unfortunate truth of attending a small private school meant that getting on the Academic Challenge team was not so much a matter of skill or knowledge, rather it was asking to be on the team.

Logan was used to pulling more than his fair share of the burden anyway. And at least Roman knew theater stuff and Patton- well, Patton was there for moral support.

"Just remember, all answers go through me," Logan stood straight and smiled confidently.

"Whatever you say, Spock," Roman sighed, more interested in his nails than the team captain's speech, "let's get this nerd royale over with."

"Remember to have fun, kiddos," Patton grinned and clapped his teammates on their backs as they made their entrance on stage.

Logan's first thought was to size up the competition. He wasn't intimidated in the slightest but one must know their enemy.

First was a boy who looked like he'd been dragged out of the alleyway and forced on the team. If his monochromatic outfit and terrible posture matched his enthusiasm he wouldn't pose any immediate threat to Logan.

The second boy looked, in a word, deranged. His large grin and wide eyes were out of place among the serious faces of the other competitors. Logan did have to note that the frilly black and green skirt complimented him well. The boy caught Logan’s eye and winked at him. Eugh.

The third, the team captain, was on a different level entirely from his team. Logan immediately felt utter loathing for that casual smirk. Everything about him just screamed "pretentious asshole who thinks he's smarter than everyone in the room". Logan scoffed at his socially deviant attire, which included a bowler hat and black capelet. Logan adjusted his tie. How ridiculous looking. This boy thought he was a threat to Logan. That misconception would be quickly rectified.

"Welcome to the Academic Challenge District Championship! I'm your host tonight, Thomas Sanders," the man grinned widely at the seven people in the audience, "today's game will be three rounds. Team captains, if you would step forward and shake hands."

Logan stepped forward and met the other captain in the middle of the stage. He offered a yellow-gloved hand to Logan.

"Gloves?"

"You can never be too careful. May the best team win."

Logan grabbed his hand and shook firmly, "we will."

"We'll see," the other captain smirked and turned back to his team with a flourish of his cape.

Logan smirked and pivoted to walk back to Patton and Roman who were already set up at the podium. Both boys looked absolutely bored out of their minds already but Patton at least tried to give Logan a supportive smile.

Logan gave the host a self-confident smirk, "it's game time."

They quickly ran a buzzer check for both teams and started the categories round. The other team seemed pretty evenly matched with Logan and not many points were turned over while toss-ups became a matter of who was faster to the buzzer. By the end of the round Logan had a slight lead and felt very confident.

"Alright! Now it's time for the alphabet round! Today's letter is 'N' and all the answers will start with 'n'. Teams here are your sheets, you have 4 minutes starting… now!" Thomas declared and both teams quickly flipped the list of questions.

"'Musical about the effects of mental illness on a family'," Logan read the first question aloud, "Roman, what's the answer?"

Roman shrugged, "I dunno."

"What do you mean, 'I dunno'?" Logan hissed, "this is your area of expertise!"

"Just because I'm an actor doesn't mean I've seen every show," Roman scoffed, reading down the list of questions to himself, "well I don't know any of this. Try Hamilton."

"It has to start with 'N'!" Logan groaned.

"What about 'Next to Normal'?" Patton didn't look up from his paper where he was drawing.

"Okay fine. What are you doing?"

Patton showed him the doodle, "it's a nectarine for number 17."

Logan looked dumbfounded and scrambled for the last two minutes to answer as many as possible. He glanced over at the other team to find them all talking calmly while the green skirt boy scribbled down the answers.

The buzzer sounded and both teams handed their sheets to Thomas who quickly graded the answers.

"And with that round both teams are tied! It all comes down to the lightning round. To your buzzers everyone!"

Logan only started to mildly panic when the other team got the first three answers. He knew them but couldn't buzz in fast enough.

"Help me out here, guys," he hissed at the others.

Roman rolled his eyes and buzzed in halfway through the next question, "the answer is American Gothic."

"How could you possibly know that?" Logan was furious but turned to give their official answer, "uh Grant Wood."

"No, sorry, Team B?"

The boy in the cape leaned in to the others before responding, "American Gothic."

"Correct!" Thomas replied cheerfully.

"Told you, you're on your own, wonder nerd," Roman sighed and went back to not paying attention.

Logan did his best to keep up but was falling miserably behind.

"Okay last question, where did Descartes claim the human soul resided in the body?" Thomas waited for the buzzer.

"Shit!" Logan dropped his head in shame,then heard the buzzer ring and looked up to see Patton had rang in.

"The pineal gland!" Patton blurted out cheerfully. Logan’s head hit the podium. That was the dumbest-

"Correct! And with that the final score is Team A 350 to Team B 470! Congratulations to Dark Knell High!" Thomas led the scattered applause for the team.

Logan stood, furious, and walked back to the center of the stage where the other captain stood, looking smug as hell and holding the trophy. Logan stuck out his hand for the congratulatory handshake, scowling. The boy made a show of removing his glove before taking Logan’s hand.

Logan’s back against a brick wall with that smug face inches from his. The expression softens and a finger traces his cheek before he leans in to kiss Logan. A cacophony of conflicting emotions screams through his head and settles on "wait, am I gay?" just before he kisses back, anger and humiliation temporarily forgotten in the arms of-

"Janus, my name is Janus. Looks like I'll be seeing you behind the school," Janus winked at a stunned Logan. Logan quickly straightened up and returned to his team.

"What was that about, Specs? You two were standing there for like a minute," Roman looked amused.

"I-" Logan couldn't make himself speak.

"I'm sorry we lost, Lo," Patton smiled apologetically, "they worked really well together as a team. It was going to be hard to beat them."

"No- Patton you did marvelously. I'm sorry for doubting you. And Roman, I'm sorry for not trusting you and not working together as a team. I failed you both," Logan looked down to his feet, ashamed.

"Aw, it's okay, Lo! Maybe we can practice together more before the next tournament and work together next time?" Patton gave him a reassuring smile.

"Assuming I'm even still on the team. Honestly, this sucked. I'm out of here," Roman turned to leave.

"Roman…" Patton chided

"Ugh, fine, yes we'll do better next time," he waved the others off as he left the stage to talk with their advisor.

"He'll come around," Patton grinned, "but seriously were you okay up there?"

"Patton, I think I need to go meet my soulmate. Don't let Dr. Picani leave without me," Logan was distracted by Janus slipping out a back door.

"What?? Okay I'll stall," Patton looked incredibly happy for his friend.

Logan followed Janus out the back door and soon found himself reliving the vision he'd had.

"That was a close game. I wasn't certain we were going to win until your team fell apart," Janus smiled at him, hand still in Logan's hair.

"Well, I didn't expect- you," Logan's mind was whirling.

Janus slipped him a scrap of paper and kissed his cheek before turning back to the door, "call me."

Logan looked at the phone number, "I'm Logan. And I'm sorry you're stuck with me for a soulmate."

"I'm sure we'll make it work. I was quite impressed with your performance today. Until next time, Logan," with that Janus slipped back inside and Logan realized he needed to not miss the bus back home. He sprinted around the school and found Dr. Picani patiently dealing with Patton's antics. He climbed on the bus while their advisor was distracted and collapsed in his seat.

"So where'd you disappear to, L?" Roman asked without looking up from his phone.

"Janus is my soulmate. I saw the vision when we shook hands the second time," Logan confessed.

"Oh my god! Good for you, Lo! Maybe getting laid will make you chill out," Roman smirked, texting his own soulmate.

"Wow, rude. I expected nothing less from you," Logan smirked, fishing his phone out of his backpack and programming the number in his phone before calling Janus.

"Love you, Specs," Roman grinned as Patton and Dr. Picani finally boarded the bus.

"Nice job today team! We didn't win but you gave it your best, which is what counts! Did you all have a good time?" Dr. Picani gave them all a broad grin, genuinely proud despite the loss.

"Logan sure had a good time," Roman snickered.

"I had fun!" Patton beamed.

Logan held the still ringing phone away from his ear, "today was adequate. Thank you, Dr. Picani."

"Great, let's get home," Dr. Picani turned to the bus driver and they started driving back. Logan grinned as Janus finally picked up the phone.

"Hello, Logan."

Tag List: @stoicpanther @ifrickenhatedeverythingaboutthis @idontgiveafuckaboutshit @tsshipmonth2020

#tsshipmonth2020 #Soulmate September 2020 #loceit #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #dr. emile picani #c!thomas sanders #logan centric #soulmate au #high school au #academic challenge #ironically this buzzer beater... was posted late #damn my phone but I figured it out

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boneswriteswords · 5 years ago

Text

Your Lover - Leonardo

A/N: This also started as a self-indulgent Mikey smut that morphed into a Leo smut. I cannot give myself nice things but maybe one of you will like this.

Pairing: Leonardo x reader

Words: ~2400

Unedited and unbeta’d. We die like men here.

You were not good at sleep. Staring at the ceiling for long hours every night, tossing and turning and thumping around in your bed, had been the standard procedure for as long as you could remember. Insomnia loved to creep its way into the edges of your periphery every time you relaxed just enough to maybe get some well deserved sleep and, with out fail, you watched the shadows in the darkness dance until the sun peaked along the horizon.

To say your sleep schedule was fucked was a huge understatement.

However, it somehow seemed to worsen when you started dating Leo. When you are laying in bed beside your turtle lover, you couldn't close your eyes for anything. Especially not when you can hear his elevated breathing, visibly still awake despite his closed eyes, the lovely curve of his beak pointed upwards against the faint light from the street lamps outside your bedroom window.

Leo's sleep schedule was just as fucked as yours, something he doesn't mind because he'd rather be tired than miss out on any extra time with you.

You've stopped feeling creepy about the way you stare at him. He likes it. You've caught him preening and posing for you enough times to know that he likes that you find him attractive enough to stare. He revels in it the same way he revels in the victory of a well-executed plan. Besides, every detail of his body seems to have been meticulously crafted to keep your attention. An eye-catching sculpture amid a slew of ordinary ones and holy shit you are beyond grateful that he cannot read your mind. Not only would you have to sit through another long-winded denial about how great of a man he is but he'd also tease you relentlessly about your cheesiness.

He'd love it as much as he'd hate it and you'd never risk letting him know just how cheesy you were for him.

It took you forever to get him to admit that your desire for him was valid to begin with. He argued that you had no business wanting him, that you could and should do better. It had sparked a different sort of fire in you - an indigent and furious flame that took his self loathing and humility and suffocated everyone in the room. You smoked him out and when it cleared, he took your hand and let you wipe the soot from his face.

Despite all of that though, it took even longer before you could get him to touch you. Months of spontaneous attacks had weakened his defenses just enough before you managed to break him, your pleas against the curve of his jaw as you guided his hands along your body left him unable to do anything but give in to your shared desires.

And now that he has touched you, you never want him to stop. You never not want his hands all over you and it makes the times when you are apart damn near excruciating. When put in perspective, its probably unhealthy to be so fixated on him, to have your entire world narrowed down to the gorgeous specimen of life that lies with you in your bed, but there has never been a single soul that has enraptured you quite like he does. There likely never will be again.

So you give yourself a pass for it and let the want burn in your chest.

"Leo," you whisper, an eternity later. Its not a question. You are impatient and needy and completely unashamed of the way you can already feel the wetness leak into your panties. You clench around nothing and the sting of emptiness sends another wave of lust through you.

You can feel more than see his breath hitch but he makes no acknowledgment of your existence. His cock twitches where it lays next to the thigh you have thrown over him.

You grin, 'Well, if that's how you want to play it love....lets play.'

"Leo," you whisper again, sitting up and leaning over him, adamant on getting a response, "I know you're awake." You splay a hand on his plastron, pressing open mouth kisses on the sensitive skin of his neck while your other hand slips down to slide your panties to the side so you can rub your wetness against him.

He can play dirty all he wants - you knew how to play filthy.

And you were going to, too turned for him to give a single fuck about it.

Leo doesn't move a muscle and you'd be annoyed if you hadn't caught the deep inhale he took. Smirk widening, you relish your victory and swing your body until you are settled in his lap, legs stretched wider than needed. You slid your fingers over your wetness before slipping them inside, whimpering at the sudden stretch. His cock is hard between his legs and you make sure to brush the fabric of your panties over it lightly as your prepare yourself.

His eyes crack open, "Y/N..." A sigh, strained around the edges and a quick glance down tells you that his hands are clenching the bed sheets to keep himself from reaching out. You add a third finger, a small gasping moan escaping you as you do so and you can hear the sheets rustle as he grips them tighter. You rub the heel of your palm against your clit and it causes you to clench around your fingers and you make sure he can feel the way your legs shake on either side of him, mimicking the way they shake when he's buried to the hilt inside of you.

"Fuck," he breathes but makes no movement to touch you. Okay, so maybe you haven't won completely but desperate times call for a new plan of action. He wants to pretend that he doesn't want to touch you? Fine. He doesn't have to.

But, you grin in the darkness, you'll make him regret it.

You pull your fingers from yourself and lean back down, nipping the at the other side of his neck, adjusting so your weigh is more on him. Leo's cock grows harder in the apex of your thighs as your rut slowly over it, the fleshy tip catching your clit through your panties on the down stroke. The languid motion is almost too much, torturous but so delicious at the same time. He must agree because his hold on the sheets tightens even more.

Sure he is about to break, you prop yourself back up and grip onto the headboard with your clean hand for support as you grind down a little slower. A low dirty moan escapes you, the languid pace burning through you so sweetly.

Like you expected, Leo breaks, his hands shooting up to grip your ass and dig his finger tips into your skin. A possessive move you would have never expected from him before you got together but the marks he left behind were some of your favorites. He keeps your hips still as he grinds his cock into you and it takes everything in you to not react.

Because here's the thing. As much you want him to throw you back and mount you, you are a woman of your word and your promise to make him regret ignoring you was no joke so you pause, gripping his hands and pulling them away from you.

"No."

The look on Leo's face is gold and instills a deeper confidence in you about what you are about to do. "No touching," you reaffirm, moving his hands so they were beside his head.

He cocks an eye ridge but doesn't say anything. His cock twitches from where its nestled between your legs and you take it as a cue to keep going. You remove yourself from his lap momentarily to remove your soaked panties, making sure to rub your wetness on him as you readjust yourself back on top of him. Leo stares at you, hungry and puzzled, and you shoot him a mischievous grin as you lift and lean back so your sitting on his thighs.

You wish you could take a photo - you want to remember how he looks for the rest of your life.

In a smooth move, you trail your hand over his plastron, nails catching in the ridges as your drag your hand towards his dripping cock. You avoid it completely, detouring to scratch his thigh before removing it completely. He bucks under you, a glob of precum leaking out of him and pool on his abdomen, but keeps his hands to himself.

A smirk forms on your mouth before you can stop it as you trail your hand down your own chest this time, trailing down until you reached your cunt and sliding in two fingers in to the third knuckle. Your eyes fall shut momentarily as you stretch yourself a bit more, a deep sigh escaping you as the building pressure between your legs eases. Leo's eyes are on you as you rub the little spot inside of you that always sends you soaring, thrusting your hips forward so he can get a better view.

Pulling your fingers out and adding a third before slipping them back inside, you can't hold back the moan that builds in your throat. "Its a shame," you say, words caught in your throat, "It should be your fingers working me open like this. Getting me all ready for your cock. Oh, Leo."

You're rambling but you don't care, little moans slipping out without your permission. "But that's what you get for being stubborn. And now I have to take care of it all by myself." You open your eyes to find Leo looking at you with an intensity had has you clenching over your fingers. You could feel your orgasm approaching and with no small amount of regret, you withdraw your fingers and wrap them around his cock, milking a guttural moan from the depths of his chest.

You adjust again, suddenly desperate to put an end to your teasing, rising on your haunches so you can guide his slicked cock to your entrance. Leo reaches up and grips your hips again to keep you still, disregarding your 'no touching' rule. You whine and wiggle to try and bear down on his cock but his grip is unwavering.

He may have ceded his control to you but under no circumstance would he allow you to hurt yourself.

"Y-Y/N," he gasps, hip bucking the tiniest bit, "My lover, please. Gentle, be gentle."

You shudder as he stills, the head of his cock slipping inside of you. Thighs shaking, you rub the place where you both meet and you moan loudly at how good he feels. He pulls your hips down slightly so the next inch of him slips into your heat and you could cry at how full you feel already.

"Oh," he whispers, eyes locking on yours, "You're my lover." There is something akin to awe in his voice as he says it. Like he knew it as an abstract concept and it finally clicked in his head that it was far more than that. It was a real thing.

"Yes," you breathed back, working your hips down a little more, "I am your lover."

No matter how many times you and Leo had sex, there was always a stretch and it always has taken your breath away but this time, the combination of the blurred dynamic and the idea that he somehow has finally understood what you are to each other has you panting in desire. Leo's girth burns, your fingers way too small to really prepare you for him, but the moan that rips from him as you take him to the hilt is more than worth it.

You move back up, removing his hands from your hips, and Leo's breath catches.

"Fuck, darling," his voice is desperate as you slam back down, "Go slow. Y/N. Gentle, love. Gentle."

You ignore him, bouncing on him as you please. The burn is still there but it is slowly being replaced with pleasure. Leo lets out a strangled noise, an absolutely filthy sound that has you stuttering in your down stroke. Your pelvis meets his and you wiggle, rubbing the head of his cock directly on your special spot.

Leo is still pleading, hands twisting in the sheets, and he looks tortured and ravenous and you have never felt more powerful in your life. You lift up again, empowered by the way he curses at the slide.

"Y/N, my lover. Please. Gentle." he rambles on and you can see its taking everything in him not to buck up into you, "You'll hurt yourself. Please. Be gentle."

You love him.

You comply with his requests this time, if only because it opens up another avenue to torture him. Leaning down, you prop up so a little of your weight is on him, your breasts pressed against his chest, and start sliding up as slowly as you can manage, clenching as you do. Little breathless sighs are breathed against his throat as you slide back down. The feel of Leo's cock stretching you from the new angle is indescribable. He's big and thick and all yours.

Leo's breath gets heavier and you move to look him in the eye. You press your mouth against his. "Is this gentle enough for you?" you ask against his lips, twisting a bit as you come back down on him, taking your sweet time to find what feels the best. "A shame really, that I have to do this. That you wouldn't fuck me yourself. "

You keep the pace for a good ten minutes, watching as each painfully slow thrust rips away at Leo's control, knowing that he wants to touch you, wants to buck you off, pin you down, and slam into you hard and fast the way you like. You keep going, knowing that neither of you can come like this but you want to see him squirm. You want to see him break.

And break he does.

Strong arms wrap around you, holding you tightly to a strong chest as Leo bucks his hips up and starts fucking into you like a man possessed. His pleas dropped into growls and you don't even pretend to move his hands from you. You accomplished your goal. He's been sufficiently punished. Anything more would be counterproductive. Flipping you over, Leo pins you down and grinds directly on your clit, whispering the dirtiest things you had ever heard in your ear, too lust-struck to bother with filters.

"This how you want it?" his voice is rough, his thrusts ruthless, "Huh lovey? You wanted me to pin you down like a little fuck doll? Acted like a needy little brat, teased me with your scent and your sex, because you wanted my cock inside of you. Hmm. Yeah, you can't go very long without a good fucking can you?" He pauses, taking a moment to bit down on the swell of your breast and you cry out, shuddering. He licks over his mark, hips stuttering as he changes angle, and groans against your ear. "It belongs to me. Your sweet little cunt is mine. My cock belongs in there. Made for me. Made to be taken and used by me because you are made for me. You're my lover. " The words were sweeter but the tone was the same and the paradox made you dizzy.

His hand sneaks down and you come harder than you ever have in your life as his fingers graze your clit. Leo is close behind, slamming into you as you pulse around him, chasing his own release. It feels like an outer-body experience, the last minutes of him fucking into your worn body, riding all your aftershocks. You can feel his cum coat your oversensitive walls and you whine at the sensation.

Minutes pass before he pulls his softening cock out of you, leaving you wet and open and sloppy with your combined release. You spread your legs, tilting your hips up as his cum drips out of you, and flick at your clit. You loved how sensitive you were afterwards, the little pulses of pain just as enjoyable as the glide of his cock inside of you. Leo seems to come back at that, looking you over for any signs of injury.

He leans back over you, hand cupping your cheek in a familiar gesture.

"I'm okay baby," you smile sleepily up at him, nuzzling his palm "You made me feel so good. Just what I wanted. I have such a good lover. I'm so happy he's mine."

A soft churr and a sweet kiss is his response, his face softening the way it always does when you get sweet with him. He pulls you close as he lies back down, shoving your face into his chest and shielding your entire upper body with both his arms, nuzzling the top of your sweaty head and churring. And that's where you stay, listening to Leo's heartbeat - the smell of sweat and soap and sex filling your nose. Sleep creeps up on you, the lethargy in your bones and Leo in your arms a lethal combination, and without a chance to protest, you finally sleep.

~~~~

End

~~~~

#tmnt #leonardo #tmnt imagine #leonardo imagine #tmnt 2 #My writing #lemon

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miss-noo-na · 5 years ago

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Turned Tables (Kihyun)

Title: Turned Tables

Featuring: Kihyun (Monsta x) x Reader

Rating: 16+, some mature themes.

Summary: Kihyun is smart, talented, and good-looking, and everyone knows it. When he starts paying you extra attention, you know there has to be a catch.

Note: This piece was commissioned by millie-ionaire05, see my sidebar if you’re interested in a custom piece!

A spike of anxiety went through you every time you got a ghost of pink hair across your vision. What followed was a bright smile with a tinge of mischief and a surprisingly deep voice that teased and taunted, and had been doing it more lately than usual.

Kihyun was a part of your larger group of friends and acquaintances at school, but he was known beyond that throughout campus. He was handsome and outgoing, and dated a lot of girls. A lot of them. In fact “dating” might not even be the right term, since he was never with one for too long. Yet, he was also smart and excelled academically, and all of it combined to make you single-handedly loathe and like him. It was hard not to.

Something had changed recently. He went from someone you only talked to in passing at parties or during group work in classes to someone paying closer attention to you, going out of his way to get to know you and flat-out flirting with you, and you hadn’t the faintest idea as to why. You’d been at school together for 2 years, and he hadn’t shown you any special attention up until that point. Needless to say, you were suspicious.

“Maybe he just really likes you?” Your friend offered and you scoffed. You weren’t anything like the girls he went after. You had fun when you could, but you weren’t as out-going or as open as they were. Some of said girls were your friends and you adored them, but even you could see the difference in demeanor between you and them.

Not knowing what his angle was put you on edge, and you started to avoid him every chance you got. In another universe, one where this would make sense, you might have taken him up on whatever offers he presented. He wasn’t marriage material, but he would be fun for something casual.

Yet you wouldn’t be persuaded by his easy tricks. A wink and a compliment weren’t enough to woo you, even in normal circumstances. The longer it went on, the more you got a sense of burgeoning frustration from him, and you didn’t know why he wouldn’t just give up and go after someone else. He could literally have any girl he wanted.

You had been too lost in your thoughts to see him coming that afternoon as you sat on a bench outside one of the buildings you had class in. He sat down and nearly startled you half to death.

“How is it you’re able to find me so easily?” You scowled, not making eye contact with him as you moved your bag into your lap and clutched it to your chest.

“Just instincts, I guess.” Kihyun grinned. “Hey, you wanna have lunch with me?”

“Not particularly.”

“Aw, why not? It’ll be my treat.”

The back and forth was getting tiresome. You hadn’t explicitly told Kihyun no or to leave you alone, maybe because deep down you liked the attention, but even that was starting to make you weary.

“Can I ask you a question?” You interjected, and he appeared taken aback for only a moment.

“Go for it.”

“Why the sudden interest in me?” You asked. It might’ve been presumptuous of you early on, but at this point in time it was obvious to you and everyone around you.

He blinked at you, and it took him a second to formulate a reply.

“Ya know, because, you seem cool?”

You realized you weren’t going to get a truthful answer, so you sighed as you gathered up your things and stood up.

“So is that a yes or a no?”

“Why don’t you use that big brain of yours to put two and two together.” You replied curtly as you turned to leave. You felt a little bad the further away from him you got, maybe you had been too harsh, but you tried not to dwell on it.

You were thankful it was Friday, but not so thankful you were going to have to make an appearance at a party tonight. You liked parties with friends and people you knew, more close-knit gatherings, but this was going to be a big one, and you only went because everyone else was going. You had promised a few people you would show up and the possibility of FOMO propelled you to at least try. You could always leave if it wasn’t fun.

You half-attempted to look presentable for the evening but remain comfortable, it had been a long week and you didn’t feel like getting dolled up, especially because you didn’t really care about half the people who were going to be there.

When you arrived at the large shared house off campus you asked for a beer immediately to ease the tension of the week, and found a small group of familiar faces to plant yourself with. If things went well, you wouldn’t have to leave this spot all night.

Of course Kihyun was there, you had seen his pink head bobbing in and out of the crowd, and you were glad he hadn’t spotted you yet. A friend noticed your hyper-vigilant watch over the crowd and noticed him going by.

“He’s still trying?” She leaned in to ask over the slightly too loud music.

“Just this afternoon.”

“Why don’t you just go out with him once?” Someone else offered.

“Because I don’t trust him.” You narrowed your eyes, and surrounding friends laughed.

“What do you think he’s going to do?”

“I don’t know, but it’s all suspicious.”

“You really think he has some secret plot against you?” Another friend offered with a snort of laughter.

“Why else would he be so insistent?” You posed to them.

The original friend at your side rolled her eyes. “Is it so hard to believe he might be interested in you?”

“Yes.” You replied without missing a beat. This was something that went beyond college. Your shyness throughout childhood and your awkward years in middle and highschool often left you on the outskirts of experiences. You had had a few not-serious boyfriends but they usually started off as good friends, you weren’t the type to get hit on at random, and especially not by really good-looking, confident guys who could be with the girl of their choosing.

“You’re too self-conscious,” Someone else spoke up, “Just go with the flow.”

“Did you guys even stop to consider that I just don’t like him like that?” You asked, and you were met with incredulous looks and a few sounds of disbelief.

Clearly this conversation was going in circles, so you excused yourself to get another drink. You made your way toward the kitchen but paused when you heard your name uttered in conversation from inside. Something told you not to go in, and you waited outside the threshold where no one could see you.

“Not even a single date? Are you losing your touch, Ki?” A man laughed and nudged him.

“These things take time, she’s not as easy as I thought she’d be.”

You felt your cheeks get hot with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Surely he wasn’t talking about you?

“The bet was that you hook up with every girl on the 5th floor by the end of the semester, and you’re tapping out on the first one.”

“We’re only a few weeks in! Give me a break.”

“Why don’t you just try for someone else? Knock a few of the easier ones out of the way.”

“That wasn’t the rules. Besides, I’m getting closer, just give me a couple more days.”

You straightened up and turned around, walking robotically back to where you came from, seething inside. “I fucking knew it.” You hissed under your breath.

You started to gather up your things and your friends questioned you. You lied, painting on a fake smile and assuring them it had nothing to do with them, you were just tired from classes all day and wanted to go get some rest. They all gave their goodbyes and one asked for a text to make sure you made it back safe.

The walk wasn’t too bad, especially because it was still warm out, though it was getting dark now, the sun almost completely slipping past the horizon. You were too angry to enjoy it, thinking about what you had heard in the kitchen. There was no mistaking that all of Kihyun’s sudden attention had been part of some stupid bro bet. You felt vindicated, but disappointed at the same time. There was a tiny part of you that had hoped he was for real.

You heard quickening footsteps in the distance then, getting increasingly closer. You thought maybe it was a jogger or something, but then a familiar voice called out your name and you looked over your shoulder to see Kihyun half-running toward you.

“Hey, wait up!” He called, and you turned back around and kept up the pace.

“You’re a fast walker.” He laughed when he finally got to you, matching your stride.

“What do you want?” You snapped, and he was disengaged for only a second.

“I was looking for you at the party, and they told me you were headed home. I couldn’t have you walking home alone in the dark like this.”

You couldn’t believe he could be so fake to your face like this. You thought about telling him what you’d heard, something along the lines of “I know about your game, now fuck off forever.” Instead, something stopped you, and a different plan began to formulate.

You hadn’t thought of yourself as vindictive before, but with how upset this whole thing made you, you were traveling down the road to petty. According to this bet he needed to “get with” every girl on your floor, starting with you. So maybe if you distracted him long enough, strung him along with the promise of fulfilling his bet, you could exact your own kind of revenge in the process, and save every other girl in the dorm the trouble of being a part of his ploy. You didn’t know the stakes of the bet, but you assumed they were high if he was this persistent.

Your anger rolled off your back and you painted on your own fake smile. “That’s really sweet of you,” You replied in a voice unlike your own, and that seemed to shock him more than the other times you had been rude or dismissive.

“You live in the same building as me, right?” He gestured to the building, pretending not to know exactly where you lived.

You nodded and slowed your pace, allowing him to take the lead. He started to chitchat, and you hung off his every word, asking him questions so he would expand on his thoughts. Guys loved it when you did shit like that, and you realized this would be easier than you thought. You may have been inexperienced, but you weren’t dumb.

“Thanks for walking me home, I was a little worried about being out here alone.” You said, crossing your arms and feigning innocence. Truthfully, you walked home at night often, and it usually never bothered you.

“It was my pleasure, I’m glad we got to know each other a little better.” He grinned. “I know I asked you earlier, but I figured I’d ask one more time. You wanna go out sometime? If you say no this time, I promise I won-”

“Sure.” You shrugged.

“N’t-wait, what? Really?” He asked.

“What can I say? You charmed me.” You smiled, fighting off the urge to cringe at your own words.

“Good to know,” He nodded, and the two of you exchanged numbers to set up a date. You left feeling somehow accomplished, and a little less angry.

Kihyun started texting you almost immediately, and you realized he was getting desperate. He was pulling the usual tricks that came with guys like him, and you recognized all of them for what they were, but instead of blowing him off you responded in kind, telling him whatever he wanted to hear, acting giggly and shy, but hinting that you were willing to explore more. You never realized you could be so good at this, you just needed spite to drive you.

You set up a casual coffee date, and the closer it came the more you realized you felt nervous. You couldn’t decipher why, it wasn’t as if this were a real date. You pushed the feeling as deep down as you could and tried to focus on the task, which was keeping him interested but not letting on to too much.

“You look really nice.” He said as he sat down with a drink for the both of you after you’d told him your order. You strategically tucked in your chin, cast your eyes down, and said thank you sheepishly. It was almost too easy.

You began to talk, and slowly the awkwardness subsided into a natural conversation, much to your surprise. The most you had ever talked was a comment about an assignment or the one-liners he’d tried to use before you agreed to go out with him. Now that he was speaking like a normal person, he seemed different. You couldn’t quite pinpoint why, though.

“Why did you pick your major?”

You shrugged, no one had really asked that before. “Seemed like the right thing to do.”

Kihyun half-smiled, “Not because you were passionate about it?”

You blinked down into your drink, not prepared to have this conversation, and especially not with him. “I had to make a choice between what I love and what I could make money doing.”

“You couldn’t do both?”

“Not according to my parents.”

“Ah, I know that well.” He nodded, and seemed to get lost in his own thoughts for a moment. “What are you passionate about?”

You had dropped the charade of over-effective giggling and flirting, and hadn’t even noticed. “It’s kinda dumb and cliche” You said, not really wanting to be vulnerable in this moment.

“It can’t be dumb if its your passion.” He smiled at you and you hated what it made you feel. He seemed sincere, and somehow that made you angry.

“I like taking pictures.”

“Photography?”

“Film, particularly.”

“That’s awesome.” His smile grew, “I like taking pictures when I can, but I’ve only used DSLRs. I bet film is a totally different experience, though. Like, not knowing what you’ve done and then getting to see it come to life in a dark room.”

He sounded so excited when he talked about it that it started to make you excited, too. It wasn’t something you got to talk about with others often.

“Yeah, it is. It really helps you live in the moment more, you’re not so caught up in constantly checking and re-shooting what you’ve done, you just try to get the best shot you can and then move on. It’s kind of a good life lesson, too, come to think of it.” You explained, then worried you had rambled too much. When you met Kihyun’s eyes, he was listening intently with a contented curl on his mouth.

“Maybe you could teach me sometime? Digital really does everything for you, I could stand to learn the manual settings. I could probably get a lot more creative if I knew what I was doing.” He laughed, and it made your stomach flutter.

You sat in the cafe much longer than you had planned, explaining the more intricate details of photography and how film was different than digital, and Kihyun hung off your every word, asking questions and giving satisfying “ohh’s” and “ahh’s in response when he learned something new. You had never felt more listened to, or like a guy was actually taking you seriously, instead of responding with condescension or trying to prove he was smarter than you. That was what you had expected of Kihyun, and he was proving you wrong at every turn.

When he realized how late in the day it was getting, you walked back to the dorms together. He lived on a different floor, but he walked with you all the way to your door.

“So there’s this party or whatever.” He said casually before you went inside. “It’s not going to be the usual big bangers, more intimate and lowkey, if you wanna come.”

“Sure.” You shrugged.

“Great, I’ll text you the details.” He grinned. You had expected him to make a move, but he simply made his way back towards the elevators, waving at you as he went. You didn’t know if the disappointment was because of your little game or because you had wanted him to try.

Throughout the weeks you kept in contact, texting often during the day and especially as night when you were both in your dorms studying. He kept you entertained with videos and memes, and you laughed out loud more often than you’d like to admit, his sense of humor as goofy as yours. A few times you had forgotten your original intent, and had to sharply remind yourself what you were doing and why. You also reminded yourself that whatever he expressed, no matter how genuine he seemed, was part of a game he was playing, a dumb teen comedy movie bet, and you couldn’t fall for any of it.

When the party came, you put extra effort into your appearance, though you weren’t sure why. You told yourself it was for you, since you rarely got the chance to change out of your study-sweats, but maybe part of you wanted Kihyun to see you at your best.

The house was off campus was a short walk away, a frat residence but not one known for being too raucous. Kihyun met you at your dorm and gave you a heavy once-over when you came out into the hallway, and you blushed furiously, not expecting it to actually work.

“Sorry, I’m not used to seeing you like this.” He chuckled, letting his eyes drift again. “You look good.”

There was a bass in his voice that sent a tingle down your spine as you fumbled with the keys locking your door. “Thanks.”

You walked to the house together and when you got there, you were thankful you were among friends, though some of those faces gave you curious and amused stares as you came in with Kihyun. They pulled you aside the moment they could get you alone.

“Are you dating?”

“No. I mean, maybe? Kind of. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“We’re just talking.”

There was a scatter of a few voices saying different things as once before someone took the lead again.

“What made you change your mind?”

You thought about telling them about the bet, some of them lived on the 5th floor with you and were going to be his next targets, and you pushed down the feeling of jealousy that welled up inside you. You hated that it made you feel this way, thinking about Kihyun talking to them like he had to you, giving them the same attention, laughter, compliments, and late night conversations.

“It isn’t real” You reminded yourself harshly before you answered, choosing to keep it to yourself for now. You didn’t want anyone blabbing and ruining your plan.

“What can I say, he’s convincing.” You forced a smile.

They let it go after that, some giving you approving nudges and raised eyebrows. You were glad they were at least supportive, even if they didn’t know it was a total farce.

Kihyun found his way back to you after chatting up his other friends, bringing you a mystery drink in a plastic cup.

“It’s red wine, hope you don’t mind.”

“Thanks, although I prefer white.”

“Oh,” he said, then reached over and took the cup back from you. “I’ll be back, then.”

You bit back a smile, not expecting him to be so attentive. “He’s just good at this, I guess.”

He came back with a new cup of white wine, and you thanked him again as you sipped, sighing in approval of the cold, dry flavor. Wine always warmed you up inside, relaxing your mind and body in just the right way.

You worked your way around the room as a pair, even when you ventured off or someone wanted to talk to you, he’d find you again and stay by your side, which you weren’t used to. A couple times you encouraged him to go off on his own, but he shook his head and insisted he stay with “his date.”

After a while the wine was kicking in, you were at the happy medium of feeling its effects but still cognitive of what was going on around you. While sitting on the couch, taking in the conversations around you, you felt Kihyun slip your cup from your hand and place it on the coffee table, then thread his fingers with yours. You stared at him, realizing that for all the talking and coffee dates you had done the last couple weeks, he had never tried to get close to you physically. This was a surprise, given his reputation, but you figured he sensed what type of girl you were and was taking it slow on purpose, luring you into a false sense of security. Still, the feel of his warm, large hand over yours was nice.

Then he tugged, standing as he went and pulling you up off the couch. You got a couple knowing glances as you went by, but you had no idea what he was doing.

He took you down a dark hallway and opened up a door into an unfamiliar and empty bedroom. Light spilled in from an opposite window, a soft blue from the clear night sky piercing through the slats in the old fashioned blinds. Outside the now closed door, you could hear the low bass of the music and the distant murmured voices of your friends. Kihyun turned around and before you had time to think, he reached up with one hand, gently taking your head and kissing you.

Your eyes widened before his kiss deepend, and then they couldn’t help but flutter closed, the wine mixed with the warmth of his hands and mouth pulling you under his spell. You kissed him back and felt a rush of excitement, especially with the hungry way he consumed you, parting and languidly pushing his tongue toward yours. A tiny moan escaped without warning and your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but hearing it made Kihyun smile against your lips.

His hands fell to your hips, one cradling your lower back and pulling you close, chest to chest, walking himself backward and bringing you with him. It was happening fast, and you were so lost in the feeling you almost forgot where you were. As he edged his way toward the bed in the corner, it all hit you at once. Over-hearing his friends, the bet, his own smarmy voice reassuring them that it would be easy.

You pulled back, hard, and almost sent you both reeling. His eyes snapped open and he tightened his grip on your back, his face flashing with distress.

“Whoa, are you okay?”

“I’m-” You swallowed, grabbing his wrist and pulling it off your back. He took the hint and dropped his arms away from you completely, but he stayed close and tried to search your expression in the dark.

You raised a hand and pressed the back of your wrist to your moist, reddened mouth, trying to figure out what you were going to say. You were upset, part of you kind of wanted to cry but you blamed the wine for that, and yet you wanted to keep it going for the sake of your master plan of revenge, which got less and less important by the day.

“Did I do something wrong?”

His voice sounded faint and concerned, and it made your chest ache. You wanted so much to believe him, to believe everything he had said and done for days now. The more you thought about it, the more resentful you got.

“You’re a scumbag, you know that?” You finally said, and Kihyun’s back straightened, his eyebrows drawing down in confusion, not knowing whether to laugh or get mad.

“Uh, I’m sorry, what?”

“I know about your stupid bet.”

You didn’t plan on revealing it this soon, you thought you could go at least a month keeping this up, really dragging it out and making him pay for it, but you couldn’t hold it back anymore.

His face completely changed, eyes wide like an animal in headlights, body stiff. You waited for him to say something but it took a few moments, and you could almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Listen, I-”

“I want you to stay away from me, and every other girl on my floor. Hell, if I even see you talking to any girl I’m going to make you regret knowing me.”

Even you were surprised at your own words, and Kihyun definitely was too. He looked genuinely panicked by your cold, steely words and the way you glared daggers into him. You turned abruptly and left the room, not bothering to see if he followed, slamming it shut behind you. When you exited the hallway, everyone was staring at you, and you didn’t look anyone in the eye as you went to grab your coat off the couch. One of your friends placed a hand on your arm and asked if you were okay, and you shook your head and told them you would talk to them later.

You walked home in record time, feet pounding the pavement as adrenaline shot through your limbs. You had been angry before, even at others, but you had never said anything like that to their face before. At first you felt satisfied with your reaction, but the longer you walked and the colder you got in the night air, the more regret started to set in, and the more you replayed the look on Kihyun’s face over and over again.

“You can’t fake that.” A voice in your head told you, but you convinced yourself it was only because he had been caught. He didn’t care about hurting you, he cared about you potentially hurting him, and in front of his friends and people who really mattered.

Your emotions were all over the place when you finally got back to your dorm, replaying the events of the night in your head. You bounced between feeling enraged about everything he was and did, but little pieces of you going back to the way his lips and hands felt on your skin. Then you felt disgusted with yourself for enjoying it.

“How pathetic am I?” You asked out loud to yourself and laughed bitterly.

After showering and dressing down to go to sleep, you looked at your phone for the first time in awhile. You were surprised to find a string of texts from Kihyun, and debated just deleting them all, but your curiosity got the better of you.

Kihyun (12:05AM): where did you go?

Kihyun (12:10AM): did you go back to your dorm?

Kihyun (12:13AM): can i explain myself?

Kihyun (12:26AM): look i know what i did was fucked up but there was a lot more to it than that

Kihyun (12:37AM): will you at least tell me you got home okay?

Kihyun (12:55AM): fuck im sorry alright? just meet me for coffee tomorrow and ill tell you everything

Kihyun (1:05AM): please?

Kihyun (1:24AM): im going to bed, please text me back when you can. Its complicated and i just want to explain, then you can ignore me forever if you want.

Kihyun (1:26AM): goodnight

“He really has some nerve.” You said to yourself before tossing the phone on the nightstand and forcing yourself to sleep. It took awhile to get there, your thoughts unable to calm down for almost an hour. You slept uneasily that night, and you were glad you had nothing to do the next day, because you decided to stay in bed. It had been a long time since you had a lazy day to yourself, and what better time than a day you were upset and feeling sorry for yourself?

You were comfortably wrapped up in your blankets, laptop next you, ignoring the world until you got a text.

Kihyun (1:23PM): can we meet up?

You made an annoyed noise in your throat and put the phone back down, but it vibrated again.

Kihyun (1:24PM): whether you believe me or not, i called off the bet over a week ago. I just want you to know that.

You tried to ignore the positive knee-jerk reaction you had to that, and angrily typed out a response instead.

You (1:26PM): how do i know youre not lying?

It took him a moment to respond.

Kihyun (1:31PM): why would i lie at this point? What am i gaining?

He had a point, but you wouldn’t be easily persuaded.

You (1:33PM): idk, maybe a way to still win the bet somehow? I dont get how you douchebags operate.

It was harsh, but you felt it was deserved.

Kihyun (1:37PM): youre taking this bet way more seriously than we ever did. It was originally for a round of drinks and thats it, it was never that big of a deal. It was stupid, sure, but i stopped caring about it as soon as i got to know you.

You didn’t want to believe it, even though it made sense. Maybe meeting up with him would help you gauge him better, and decide whether you were having the right reaction. You didn’t have to forgive him, but you could give it a shot.

You (1:42PM): I’ll be at the cafe in 15 minutes.

It was more like 25 minutes after you finally dragged yourself out of bed and threw on something. At least you bothered to change out of your sweat pants, it wasn’t like you needed to impress him anymore.

He was already there when you showed up, and when you sat down there was already a drink waiting for you, the same thing you usually ordered.

It was silent for a long time, Kihyun avoiding eye contact except to try and steal glances when you were looking away, leaning back in your chair with your arms crossed.

“You gonna talk or what?” You snapped, realizing not all of your anger had cooled just yet.

“Like I said, the bet was just something we tossed around while we were drinking, it was dumb guy shit.” He shrugged.

“Ah, so that makes it okay.” You responded sarcastically, and he shook his head.

“Not at all, but I guess I always feel like I have something to prove.” He cast his eyes sideways and let out a laugh, but he didn’t look happy about it.

“What do you mean?” You asked, steered from the conversation momentarily.

“What you know about me now, isn’t at all how I was when I was younger. In highschool I was just middle-of-the-road and kind of awkward. Like a lot of guys I wanted to be something more, so I did what I had to to fit in. Embellish how many girls I’ve hooked up with, join every club, laugh at every joke.” He shifted in his seat and half shrugged, “And it worked, so I just kept doing it. I liked the attention, the new friends, and the fact girls finally wanted to talk to me.”

“So why me?” You narrowed your eyes, feeling a little bit of empathy for him but not much.

He seemed hesitant to share, eyes darting around the room again. “Are you sure you wanna know?”

“I’m already mad at you, you might as well tell me.”

He took a breath before he spoke. “I thought you would be easy. I mean, not easy like in easy, but,” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. You sat silently, raising an eyebrow and curious as to where this was going.

“You seemed kind of shy and I noticed when you’re at parties not a lot of guys try to talk to you. I thought you might like the attention.”

You could feel your blood getting hot under your skin, and it was only because he was right. You did sit out on the sidelines a lot, and didn’t get as much attention as your friends. They told you it was because you didn’t try hard enough, and you convinced yourself it was because you didn’t want it. However, the way Kihyun treated you these past few weeks had felt great, and you hated yourself for it.

He must have been able to see the burning behind your gaze, because he winced before he quickly continued. “But I was wrong, you were a lot harder to get to than I thought. All my usual tricks didn’t work on you, and it started to frustrate me. I was determined to get you to at least go out with me.”

“So it was a pride thing.” You said steadily, and he nodded. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Okay, so the fact you bruised his ego a little did bring you some solace.

“Then out of nowhere you went out with me, and I was suspicious at first, but I went along with it. I didn’t think much of it, but we really got along. I liked talking to you.” He fidgeted with his coffee cup. “I actually forgot about the bet until someone brought it up, and I told them to forget about it. I thought it wouldn’t hurt if I just started to pursue you more seriously without mentioning the first part.”

“At what point did that happen?” You asked, wanting to know exactly how much of your interactions were fake.

“Almost immediately after our first date, when we were texting a lot. That’s when the feelings were real.”

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks and you tried to angle your head away, but Kihyun looked up and caught it, and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, but he tried to pretend he hadn’t seen it, for your sake.

“I understand if you don’t want to speak to me anymore, but I at least had to tell you the truth.”

You realized most of the anger had subsided, your body relaxing as you really thought over everything he told you.

“Do you…still….” You fought to say, but he already caught on.

“Yeah, a lot.” He said, before smiling is a mischievous way. “Last night wasn’t me trying to win the bet, that was just me doing something I really, really wanted to do.”

Again, a warmth pricked at the skin just under your eyes and you fretted with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “I mean, if that’s the case, I guess we could try starting over.”

“Really?” He perked up.

“Fair warning, I’m difficult to impress, and even moreso now.” You said with a stern look.

“I accept your challenge.” He smiled with a nod.

“Fine, thanks for the coffee then.” You said as you stood, taking it with you as you went without another word.

“Wait, where are you going?” He called after you.

“Home, I don’t recall being properly asked on this date.” You said with a shrug, and waited until you turned around to giggle to yourself.

Only a few minutes after you got back to the dorm did you receive a text from Kihyun, giving you a heartfelt proposal to another coffee date.

You (2:43PM): idk, I might be busy this week.

Kihyun (2:45PM): we can make it quick, i’ll catch you before class and even walk you there if you want

You sank your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress the excited grin. So he really was as attentive and kind as he portrayed before.

He was true to his word come Monday, meeting you before class with your drink ready, and chatting you up happily as he walked you to class. It felt so natural you almost forgot about everything that had transpired, and reminded yourself to be cautious, at least for now.

This became a routine, something he did before all your morning classes, and you texted in between. Finally, you agreed to go on a real date, and he took you on a traditional dinner and a movie foray, which was more fun than you ever thought it would be. He walked you back to your door and idled there for a while.

“I’m not going to ask to come in.” He nodded, and you cocked your head to the side.

“Why not?”

He fumbled in his confusion, not expecting you to question it. “I mean, I’d like to, but-”

“Then come in,” You said, turning to unlock the door and walk inside, not even turning to see if he’d follow. He shut the door behind himself.

You kicked off your shoes and threw down your bag, taking off your coat and tossing it on a chair before you sat down on your bed. You reached over and clicked on your bluetooth speaker, the room filling with soft lo-fi sounds to ease the tension.

Kihyun stood awkwardly in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, and you laughed out loud. He looked so out of character, timid and quiet as he admired your knick-knacks and made small talk. You liked him confident and flirtatious, but this was charming, too.

“What’s this, a spelling bee medal? That’s cute, I was never that great at spelling. Hey, this figurine looks familiar, is it from an anime?”

He was rambling and you watched with amusement.

“Kihyun, you can sit down.”

He side-stepped to your computer chair and let out a long sigh as he sat.

“I meant on the bed, with me.”

“Oh, uh, okay.”

He came and sat next to you, still at a respectable distance and you laughed again.

“What happened to the Kihyun at the party?”

He cast you a modest side-glance.

“I didn’t want to assume, I’m trying to take things slow. I don’t want to mess up again.”

The sincerity in his softened voice made you want to melt, and you reached down to trail your fingertips over the top of his hand. He had more than proved himself lately, you thought to yourself.

“I decided to stop being so stubborn.” You explained, turning his hand over and taking it in yours.

“Oh?” He asked, staring down at your hands.

“Yeah,” You smiled, pulling his arm toward you. “And I decided you can kiss me. I mean, if you want to.”

He made a few noises, like he was finding something to say, but when he looked up you locked eyes with him and he forgot all about explaining himself.

The transition was swift, the way his eyelids lowered and his shoulders relaxed. Suddenly he looked like that Kihyun again and you felt a shiver go through you before he even touched you, and again when his lips met yours.

There was something subtle about his motions, how he cradled your head and how his lips moved to draw you in. It made your eyes flutter closed and your mind get lost in the feeling, like you were drunk without touching a drop of alcohol. You hadn’t felt desire like this in your waking world, only in daydreams.

You don’t know how it all happened, but it was slow and fast all at once, you on your back as your bodies pressed together, his lips moving from mouth to jaw to neck and back again, fingers playing through your hair as you gripped his shoulders or stroked his throat before moving up to the back of his head. You felt an insatiable sort of hunger, like you could absorb the feeling fully but not quite, always desperate for a little bit more.

You kissed until you were tired, lips sore and a few marks on your neck to show for. Kihyun swallowed and panted as he pulled away to speak.

“We don’t have to do anything else.”

“Good, because I kind of just like doing this.”

“Me, too.”

He eased himself next to you and wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you into his chest and nuzzling the crook of your shoulder.

“Thanks for the second chance, even though I probably didn’t deserve it.” He laughed, and you pushed yourself back into him.

“You’re still on thin ice.” You said firmly, but turned and planted a peck on his lips to let him know you were only half-kidding.

“Yes ma’am,” He mumbled, against your skin, sighing as he squeezed you once more.

#kihyun scenarios #monsta x scenarios #yoo kihyun #monsta x #kpop scenarios

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ashleyswrittenwords · 5 years ago

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How to be a Queen [Part 20]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Part 1

How To Be A Queen

In total, it amounted to three months of attending war cabinet meetings to make my presence known.

The first month spent shadowing the men with the decorative swords before running off to my uncle’s room to make sense of their terms. At first it was intimidating, they paid their respects in short bows yet didn’t acknowledge my being for the long duration of each gathering; ranging from two hours to an entire day. It was as if they were hoping if they hadn’t looked at me, I would disappear into the background.

The room was a matter in itself. If a stranger to the castle had no prior knowledge and mistakenly walked in, its purpose would make itself known immediately. To glorify a place known as a war room would be as to what it was known as and was. It was a recessive area of the castle, tucked down underneath any luxuries I had come to know. Maids and servants were replaced with decorated officers and veterans. The doors were forbidden to remain propped open, even on the most humid of days, and nothing inside was ever to be divulged. This was the only hall of the castle untouched by renovation for it was the place where every war began, and every war ended. The war room was Hyrule’s trigger.

Walls dripped in colors of ancient Hylian war paint; red, black, and gold. Weapons of all kinds were decorated, gilded within a frame. Their owners ranged from daring knights to heroes of old. In the center was a table that spanned the length of the room with intricate carving of legends, although on top was the most important piece. It mirrored an old map on the wall, but this one had black pawns to represent all potential threats. They stood like towers against the terrain with wooden carvings to imitate cavalry and foot-soldiers. Red pawns mirrored these dolls, which stood east of the Gerudo sands.

By the month end, I had every rank of command memorized and each division under each admiral written neatly in a leather-bound book.

It took two weeks for the admirals to meet my eye. The evenings were brimming with careful studies, and once Impa returned, I stole her sleep as well to fill in the gaps of political history that were closed off to me as a child.

Three weeks of my questioning went by until they recovered from the fact that a woman was speaking; an additional week before they had the gall to answer their high princess.

The creases under my eyes were deeper and a newly returned Anju complained about the amount of stress I was putting myself under, but – goddess – the feeling of autonomy was a welcome one. As far as royal propriety went, I was free to do what I pleased and choosing to be included was one I picked easily. Though, this newfound freedom came with its own restraints – its own guilt.

Father was becoming scarcer. With the making of amends between us, he drew more distraught over Uncle Nathaniel’s decaying health. Rarely would I find him outside his bed chambers or his study. Soon, I was asked to bring food to his room, so much so that it became apart of my newfound routine. Most of the day was split between Uncle and his war cabinet. In some sense I was his liaison and he was my mentor. Though, I hoped desperately he would continue to be once he overcome this illness.

My evenings were visiting Father. Some days were better and he would change into proper clothes, others were darker and he hardly had the strength to get out of bed. The latter where I would eat supper in his room and watch over him, hoping he would finish his meal.

Tonight, I suspected, would pose to be darker.

Uncle’s cough was raspy and guttural and his nurse withdrew the spoon of stew. Once it subsided, she fluffed the pillows that propped him up to a seat and scooped a spoonful again. I thumbed the pages of my book between my fingers, distracting myself with the rough texture.

Finally fed up with the doe eyes he was giving the women, I let out a noticeable sigh. “I don’t understand it,” I said once he looked away. Truly, the nurse was beautiful and at last he has found a woman to dote on that wasn’t twenty years younger, but did this flirtation need occur with his niece present?

“Trust me, little one,” his voice was weak and didn’t carry the volume it once had, “If I knew my brother’s mysteries… well, I dare to think I would solve the secret to life itself.”

His light laugh sloped into a coughing fit.

“Dear Tressa,” he put a light hand on the nurse’s arm who smiled warmly at him. “Would you mind fetching me a bed warmer? I fear I will catch a chill.”

She set the stew on his nightstand and excused herself. I took the chance to take her seat as he looked at me with a face that seemed a decade older than when I left the castle. My heart sunk with fear for him.

“You were but a child when your mother passed, and I suspect you took notice in your father’s absence during that mourning period,” he stopped to smooth out his night shirt as if it were his formal wear, “Rhoam is an intelligent man. He holds pride in his crown, as any king of this great country should, but there is a price to pride. Gold is as beautiful as it is blinding. It will confuse you when you lose focus and drag you down. His way of closing off is a form of this.”

I sat with a strained expression that made him pressure me.

“Between your condition and, and Father’s,” irritation sank into my voice, “I feel this is my fault for leaving. Somehow… somehow a punishment of sorts.”

He watched me fold my hands over themselves, “It is not.”

Uncle Nathaniel waited until my hands stilled, “It is not because of you.”

“But-!”

“I won’t hear it,” the sternness in his voice was not what a sick man would possess, and it silenced me. “What you did with that boy was invaluable, Zelda. Did you meet people?”

“Y-yes.”

“Did you face struggles?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have fun? Find beauty in your country? Find beauty in your people?”

My smile wobbled, “Yes. I did.”

“Then your only regret should be that you hadn’t been gone longer.”

I nodded, folding my hands once more in my lap and leaving them.

We let silence fill in and he eventually sighed against his pillows, “It is more than Rhoam has done. You will find that every action in these suffocating walls have their own set of consequences. Without the right people around you-” Uncle stopped and lifted his brow at me, “The throne will pull a veil over your eyes.

“When Mariam died, it did just that. Grief subdued him and the whispers of his advisers wormed in. Fear of a calamity. Fear that he would lose not just a family, but a kingdom. With all the good intentions the priests had, they forced Rhoam to abandon values your mother upheld for him.”

I pressed him, “What do you mean?”

“He was harder on preventing Hyrule’s vulnerabilities from showing. Our pacts with neighboring regions were nullified in effort to create a semblance of self-sufficiency. With that created new problems that he didn’t acknowledge,” he hardened and swallowed dryly. I saw frustration in my uncle.

“The rural Gerudo tribes,” I said suddenly, dread burrowed into me. “Father caused the food shortages.”

My uncle’s eyes left me, but a thin smile met him, “Yes. I remember, years ago when I traveled, going to the far reaches of the desert. The people there were kind, amiable. They saved me from dehydration at a small oasis they build their villages around. I was introduced to their culture, their norms.” When he looked up, the smile gone. “Twenty years later I would be ordering the slaughter of their people.”

A moment strained and I witnessed the anger in his eyes. Slowly, it devolved into remorse and then resolve. “Zelda,” Uncle Nathaniel said, “These people are not primitive. Stereotypes be damned, every man who was there knows that.”

“I-I was under the pretense that they were fanatics, that they-”

“They are a scorned and abandoned people. Try going hungry for months on end,” he sighed, but his anger was present. “Seeing children shriveled up on the side of roads and passing mourning women. Hungry people grow desperate and whoever can bring comfort to that and create the confidence I saw on that sand…”

He grew quiet and looked on to the window where the sun was high. Somberly, he declared, “I fear such a man.”

When the day drew to a close, I had surprisingly found Father in the parlor of his chambers. I returned his polite smile when I placed a plate of meat and vegetables before him and sat on the loveseat across from him. The hearth between us glowed warmth.

He bookmarked his novel and put it aside, “You’ve been busy today.”

“I keep myself busy,” I said, glancing up to him.

We ate in silence where he would make the occasional comment about the food and I would agree. Once we finished, I let him know about my day. It was something that I hadn’t done for years and within the last couple months has become the norm. As happy as it made me, I wished it was born of different circumstances.

Another new routine between us was reading through requests, filtered by Impa the day before. I picked them up from the cushion beside me and began reading them to my father. He sat silently, sometimes asking me to make notes on responses.

“King Dorephan has written condolences for the general and sends his prayers,” I said, going for the pencil.

“Write back saying great thanks and how we hope for the best,” he paused, “Then give kind regards for the Zoran prince and princess.”

When my writing stilled, I looked up to him. My fingers sealed the envelope with the letter inside to draw out a reply later when Impa was available. “Father,” I started, “May I ask something that is out turn?”

My father blinked in surprise but nodded. “Please do.”

“Why haven’t you seen Uncle Nathaniel?”

There was a beat of quietness that settled as he thought, “Somehow, I suspected you would eventually ask me something to that effect.” He readjusted in his seat and brought his hand to his beard. He breathed in slowly, then out like he did during stressed conferences. “I’m afraid for him.”

I tilted my head in confusion and he took notice.

“The physicians keep saying that he will be on the mend in a matter of weeks. It’s been almost four months, now,” he frowned, in his words were distress. They grew taunt. “It is startlingly similar to what they said about Mariam.”

At that, I looked away and to my skirts. “Oh.”

“I know it’s selfish. It’s just… false hopes are more difficult to lose.”

“Father,” I shook my head. “I understand how you feel, but he asks about you often.” I trailed off, trying to give voice to my feelings and shake off my old fears of overstepping. “I do love you very much and I perhaps if you saw him, it will lift your spirits as well as his.”

The lines in his face were deeper than I remember, then he laughed a laugh that reminded me much of his brother. “Will it quell your worries if I see him at noon tomorrow?”

“Enough to stop me from pestering you further,” I said, warmth growing in my chest at his smile.

“Very well then,” Father glanced at the clock. “I trust you to look over the rest of those papers there for me, Zelda. I must retreat to my bed.”

The warmth grew to the blossoming smile I tried to repress at his words. He trusted me.

“Thank you, Father.”

Promptly, I bid him goodnight and once he was in his bedroom, I took leave as well. In my head, I ran through the list of notes he had given me, nearly running into a servant in the hallway.

“Your Highness, my deepest apologies,” he said, bowing shortly.

“It’s no matter, sir,” I nodded politely.

“May I inquire if the king is in commission? Reports for him and the general have just arrived.”

“I’m afraid he has retired for the evening,” I replied lightly, “But I am working with him and his cabinet to alleviate the workload. I can take them off your hands.”

As I stacked the ribbon tied pile of letters underneath my current load, a question took hold of the tip of my tongue, “Um, sir, does there happen to be anything requested to me?”

“Nothing for Her Highness. This is mostly correspondence with the front lines,” the servant bid me a good evening and ran off with piles for the admirals. I stood there for a moment, disappointment ebbing. I carried on through the halls and heard no footsteps behind me. It wasn’t as if I should have been expecting it, though it was the first time I had someone this month. Father had been somewhat right about how false hopes hurt.

I tried pushing the plaguing thoughts away, only for him to return to them. I wasn’t foolish, I knew where my former knight attendant was. I took small notes when his unit was discussed in the war room. He couldn’t be in immediate danger and I kept reminding myself that no war had been declared.

There would be war, though. Today the Gerudo aristocracy had requested reprieve at Hyrule Castle. Rebels were launching attacks on the borders of their capital and Hylian troops were mobilizing. They were proving to be more strategic than our opponents in the Uprising, leading the war cabinet to suppose that we were in for a far longer fight than ever before.

“By the goodness of Hylia, where did that come from,” Impa said, ripping me from my worries. She stood outside my chambers and opened the door for me as I approached.

“The messengers from the desert had come in when I left Father,” I laughed, somewhat incredulous myself. “And honestly with the state Uncle Nathaniel is in, I’d like to at least go through it for him.”

Impa continued staring as we continued to the hearth of my bedroom. Pillows and cushions riddled the floor as well as a small coffee table to write on. I threw the stack on the bed and Impa pulled some of the ties to my dress so I could slip into something more suitable for the floor.

“That little maid will kill you if you’re up for long,” she chided, making me laugh once more.

“Yes, I do think she will.”

We got to work quickly, reading through and sorting the parchments from level of importance. The most important meant that they needed to be answered and delivered first; for example, Father’s letter from King Dorephan. The second level varied from requests for assets by noblemen to simple reports from officers; these didn’t need immediate response and typically waited a day on this table. The third level was littered with letters that need no answer at all yet still could yield value to Father – or more commonly now, myself. It was incredibly monotonous, but it proved to be efficient.

“Chief Gor Coron wants King Rhoam’s consideration to betroth you to his son,” Impa mumbled. “Again.”

I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh, “He’s a very sweet boy, but he’s also fifteen.”

“Do you think it requires a reply from the Crown?”

“I vote for fourth pile.”

“Fourth pile it is.”

The fourth pile – the fire – was everything that His Majesty didn’t need to mind at all.

I placed a letter a lord who couldn’t gather an audience with the king into the second pile. Impa handed me the opener and announced she was going to chase down a kitchen maid for a strong pot of coffee. I had barely acknowledged her declaration by the time she had left. With the opener in one hand and the next envelope in the other, it slid across the paper cleanly. At least through this I got the pleasure of hearing the straight tearing of paper.

Absently, I wondered what time it was as I scanned the paper and stopped abruptly. The handwriting was scratchy and precise, resembling one that had been sitting under my mattress for months. My knees drew up to my chest from my relaxed seat.

General Nohansen,

In the hopes that this letter finds you well, I write to you my routine update of the state we’re in.

Currently, we’re stationed at the coordinates given by Admiral Fierlin the month prior. Gerudo Town is only ten leagues from our camp. My contacts within have alerted me that every tenth night there is some form of attack within public places on the outskirts of the city. Obviously, they are organized and deliberate. For weeks, at your request, I have pushed the Gerudo officials to request protected travel from their capital to our own…

The letter derailed into specific numbers about supplies and increasing men still arriving.

…Again, in regards of your health, we all pray to Hylia for your steady recovery. Until then, I’m at your disposal as usual.

Cpt. Forester

I read his letter thrice before putting it down.

Mechanically, I let it fall into the second pile so that I would remember to share it with Uncle the next day. For whatever reason, it hurt worse each time I read it. I knew Elian had delivered my letter. He was at the castle last month, doubling for a messenger. Goddesses, I had spoken to him and asked if he had. Even then, my heart pleaded that he hadn’t. Surely, because Link would have written back.

Maybe… I was misled.

Impa opened the door with a maid in tow. She placed a tray of coffee on the table beside the mess of papers, poured the pot of coffee in two cups and quietly left. The older woman sighed, sitting cross legged on the pillows before taking a sit. As she did, she watched my silence to the letter sitting neatly at the top of the pile.

She swallowed the bitter liquid, “Zelda.”

My heart tried to steer my mind. “Yes?”

“You’re upset.”

I went to shake my head, “No—I.” I laughed quickly to cover my uneven breath, “I’m simply tired.”

My hands went for a new envelope and the letter opener. Impa repeated my name.

The curved blade of the opener missed the slip of the envelope, making me curse to myself until it made it in. He hadn’t even referenced me. Inelegantly, I retched it upward. The tear ended halfway down the envelope and hands stilled my own at my wrists.

“Zelda!” she said, carefully taking the letter opener from me. By then, I was reduced to shuddering gasps and spilling tears against her. “Af… after everthing-” A wail that fell to a sob escaped, “Three months of… of nothing!”

Nothing of his condition or his whereabouts. How many letters has he bothered to send while I waiting patiently for anything from him? What has changed so drastically? I wasn’t so dull to forget that at the end of the day he had a job – we both did! Still, it didn’t stop me from thinking about him at night. It hadn’t not worried me when his commanding admiral made passing comments of bomb threats. The feelings I had thought we shared were still present and very much alive in my heart.

Then, in other bouts of his silence, it made me irrevocably angry. After all, he had left.

And, perhaps, that was it. That was all there was to it. The note he left at the inn had no remarks about wanting me to write to him. There was nothing to be said about wanting to see me again, not in the way I wanted to see him.

We sat there as she smoothed out my hair and whispered my name among shushes. It could have been hours or the entire night, but eventually I came to. Exhaustion overtook me and I slumped in my seat. Impa pulled away, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

“I know you are grieving for much right now,” she said, “but you cannot lose sight. Whatever… whatever transpired between you two – I won’t inquire.” Impa looked forlornly at me with ruby eyes, “You should understand that what happened in your reprieve from the castle mustn’t continue.”

My stomach dropped at the thought. I saw his face from the inn, one of longing and regret. The feeling of heated cheeks when he’d look at me. His smile at my silly comments. I saw my ring in his hand and the resolve in his eyes and the callous of his fingers. The tender needs of a man who could put up a stone front so convincing that you’d thing he had lived his entire life without speaking a word and break it down just as easy – just for me.

Then, I saw the letter addressed to the general.

“With your coming of age and the current state of the Crown, Zelda,” she pulled my attention again. “You should consider the possibility of assuming the role of acting Queen of Hyrule.”

I sat quietly, neither confirming or negating her. It had been a thought that seemed more imaginary than plausible, but now Impa gave it life. Six months ago, I would have laughed at the notion and chalked it up to an implausible prediction; now it felt startling.

“I have,” I sniffed, brushing my wet cheek with my nightgown sleeve. “If my country needs me, I will not run from it.”

#i think this is the earliest ive posted a chapter #htbaq #how to be a queen #loz #zelink #zelda #link #legend of zelda #fanfiction #zelink fanfiction #ashleyswrittenwords

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mediaeval-muse · 4 years ago

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Book Review

Fortune Favors the Wicked. By Theresa Romain. New York: Zebra Books, 2016.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Royal Rewards #1

Summary: As a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, Benedict Frost had the respect of every man on board—and the adoration of the women in every port. When injury ends his naval career, the silver-tongued libertine can hardly stomach the boredom. Not after everything—and everyone—he’s experienced. Good thing a new adventure has just fallen into his lap…

When courtesan Charlotte Perry learns the Royal Mint is offering a reward for finding a cache of stolen gold coins, she seizes the chance to build a new life for herself. As the treasure hunt begins, she realizes her tenacity is matched only by Benedict’s—and that sometimes adversaries can make the best allies. But when the search for treasure becomes a discovery of pleasure, they’ll be forced to decide if they can sacrifice the lives they’ve always dreamed of for a love they’ve never known…

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: violence, blood, sexual content, domestic violence

Overview: Another read from Courtney Milan’s recommendations page (I’ve been doing a lot of these lately). To be honest, I didn’t have any strong feelings going into this book; I was expecting some kind of rivals to lovers situation, perhaps some thrilling tale of a courtesan running from a jaded past, and while there was a little of that, I was pleasantly surprised by the direction this story actually took. Rather than being a fierce competition where emotions get in the way of each character’s goals, Fortune Favors the Wicked is more a tale about balancing independence with one’s connection to others. While some might be disappointed by that, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and though there were some things I wished Romain had done to enhance the emotional impact of her story, I think there was enough complexity in this novel to keep me interested in seeing more of Romain’s work.

Writing: Romain’s prose is fairly straight-forward without a lot of embellishments. There’s a nice image here and there, but overall, it’s the kind that can be taken in quickly. There was something about her prose style that gave me the impression of disconnectedness; while she depicts the events in her narrative well and makes her characters complex and compelling, I also got the sense that characters didn’t give into emotion and were overall very restrained. This doesn’t mean that her characters don’t have emotions - Romain notes moments when Charlotte stiffens or grips Benedict’s arm in a certain way, but these moments are breezed through quickly and not much is made of them, suggesting (to me) that the emotional impact of something isn’t as noteworthy as the thing itself.

I do think, however, that Romain did an excellent job of writing the relationship between Charlotte and her 10 year old daughter, Maggie. Maggie believes herself to be the legitimate daughter of Charlotte’s deceased sister, but Charlotte has been posing as Maggie’s aunt in order to give her the best chance of being accepted by society. I found Romain’s depiction of Charlotte’s maternal longing to be very well done; I could sense the restraint that Charlotte felt, as well as the difficulty in trying to connect with her daughter, but not quite knowing how after being absent for most of her life. I think those moments were the strongest emotional scenes in the book, and I appreciated the way Romain depicted Charlotte’s struggle using Benedict as a kind of confidant.

Plot: The main action of this book revolves around a treasure hunt of sorts. A hefty sum of gold coins have been stolen from the Royal Mint, and their presence has been traced to a small town called Strawfield, where Charlotte grew up. A number of hopeful “treasure hunters” have descended upon the town, but Charlotte has an edge in that she knows the people and the terrain. At the same time, Charlotte tries to keep her Strawfield life and her London life separate. Being in Strawfield means that she puts a lot of people at risk; a former client has become embittered because Charlotte has left him, so to force her back into his power, he threatens to expose her life as a courtesan to the entire town - a scandal that is sure to affect her parents (who make a meager living as a vicar and translator of ancient Greek) and her daughter, Maggie.

Meanwhile, Benedict has also arrived in Strawfield in search of the treasure, in part motivated by the promise of an adventure, but also by his desire to provide for his sister. As a former sailor, he only receives half a salary and a small pension, so he doesn’t have much to offer in terms of supporting his family. Making things more pressing, his sister is weeks away from turning 21, the age at which her aunt and uncle are to turn her out of their home and cease providing for her (according to an agreement Benedict made with them after the death of his parents).

I really liked the way these plots paralleled one another. Both Benedict and Charlotte were motivated by their care for others - Benedict by his sister, Charlotte by her daughter - and I think this kind of selfless love made for an interesting contrast with the more selfish desires of seeking adventure. I also liked that Benedict struggled with being absent from his sister’s life just as Charlotte struggled with being absent from her daughter’s life - it gave the two characters something in common, other than their passion for one another. At the same time, I also liked the way Charlotte’s status as a kind of object/treasure in the eyes of her clients (she’s called “La Perle” by those who know her as a courtesan - a name that reflects such objectification and is a literal treasure) paralleled the treasure hunt. A former client is literally tracking her down the way Charlotte tracks down the Royal Mint coins, and I appreciated the subtle symbolism that Romain put into these plot lines.

I do wish, however, that a sense of urgency was infused into these narrative threads. Because of Romain’s prose style, I didn’t get the sense that much was at stake for these characters, even though the circumstances themselves certainly put a lot of people at risk.

Characters: The summary of this book is a little misleading; though the hero does in fact have an “injury” and is loathe to stay confined in one place, and the heroine is looking to build a “new life for herself,” the characters are so much more complex than that.

Benedict, our hero, is likable in that he’s not as self-indulgent as the summary would suggest. Though he does fear being confined by a metaphorical “cage,” he isn’t a slave to his impulses, and he frequently prioritizes the thoughts and feelings of others above his own. He accepts Charlotte for who she is and does not think less of her for being a courtesan, and he even tries to help her connect with Maggie and avoid her former client, though there is nothing that would incentivize him to do so. I was relieved that he wasn’t written as a stereotypical gruff loner or womanizing jerk - I’ve become more intolerant of those archetypes lately, and was pleasantly surprised that Benedict was written as a good human being from the start. Moreover, Benedict is not just “inured” - he’s blind and navigates the world using a cane. At first, I was a bit worried that Benedict’s blindness would be fetishized or that he would be portrayed as having some extra-sensory abilities to overcome his disability, but to my surprise, his blindness was never used as some kind of erotic component in intimate scenes, and though Benedict does have some uncanny listening skills, I don’t think they were super-human.

Charlotte was also a compelling protagonist in that she was constantly thinking of the well-being of others without diminishing her own self-worth in the process. She never apologizes for being a courtesan and making her own way in the world, she only regrets that her lifestyle would bring hardship on her family due to society’s prejudices. I liked that she was able to take control of a situation and make things work to her advantage, and though she had some real emotional pain from being separated from her daughter, she never seemed to be bogged down by self-esteem issues or worthlessness.

The supporting characters were also well-written in their complexity. Maggie is a solitary child whose social awkwardness is balanced by her sweet relationship with the family dog. Charlotte’s father, a vicar, frequently has to confront his mistakes regarding his treatment of his daughter, and Charlotte’s mother, a translator of ancient Greek, is flawed in her single-minded obsession with the classics. I even felt that Selwyn, Charlotte’s former lover and father to Maggie, was complex in that he was self-interested without being cruel, contrasting nicely with the cruelty of Charlotte’s former client, Randolph, who was determined to control her no matter the cost.

Romance: Despite the characters on their own being compelling and interesting, I could not see the relationship between Charlotte and Benedict as more than a close friendship. This book is marketed as a “game of seduction,” but there’s very little seducing, with emphasis instead being placed on mutual admiration and respect. Benedict is very kind and supportive of Charlotte, and Charlotte seems to admire the way Benedict has made his own way in the world as a blind man. While I liked that their relationship was based on something more than just appearance or lust, there was also very little passion, and I felt that we had to be told that the characters were falling for one another, rather than being shown it. The characters didn’t seem to be very emotionally vulnerable with each other, nor did I get the sense that they enriched each other’s emotional lives for the better. Benedict’s feelings of anxiety over being “caged” are barely present in the novel, so it doesn’t interfere with his relationship with Charlotte until close to the end; moreover, not much was made of the fact that Benedict would lose his pension/salary if he marries, since being a Naval Knight requires him to live at Windsor Castle and remain single. I would have liked to see more pressure put on these barriers to their romance, but even more than that, I would have liked to see the characters help one another overcome their flaws or challenge each other to grow. While there was a little of that in the way Benedict helped Charlotte with Maggie, I think Romain’s reluctance to more completely indulge in the emotional aspects of her story (as well as her seeming reluctance to make the sex scenes truly passionate) prevented me from seeing sparks between our two leads.

Recommendations: I would recommend this book if you’re interested in historical romance (especially early 19th century/post-Napoleonic era), treasure hunts, mother-daughter relationships, and disabled protagonists.

#book reviews

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ofnifflersandkings · 6 years ago

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Title: Takes Two

Character: Miles Morales

A/n: Another request for the best Spidey Boy™️ around!

•

Miles’ ears perked up at the sound of his phone going off, a special ringtone set up just so he knew you were the one texting him. He was about to turn and reach for it when Gwen swifly kicked his legs out from under him and knocked him into the training mat.

“I thought we talked about this, no distractions when you’re training.” She said sternly, though he could the faintest hint of a smile on her face.

“Oh come on,” Miles said, letting his head fall backwards. “I just gotta send a text.”

Gwen looked back to his bookbag, where his phone was nestled right on top of. She shot out a web and it went flying into her hand with ease. Her smile came through when she saw who was messaging.

“(Y/n) again?” She teased, dangling his phone in front of him. “Finally going to admit how much of a crush you have on them?”

Miles felt his face get warm despite his head shaking to object. “Nothin’ like that, we’ve been friends for a really long time.”

Gwen rasied an eyebrow with suspicion and unlocked his phone to look at the nice photo of you he’d set as your contact image. “What a cutie, I suppose if you’re just friends you wouldn’t mind me talking to them more?”

Miles frowned at the way she wiggled her eyebrows, and with a very heated face he webbed his phone away from her.

Gwen laughed and stretched her arms over her head. “Well hurry up, I have about an hour before I need to head back to my universe and you need all the training you can get.”

Miles pulled a face at her and typed a quick message to you, letting you know he’d be doing spider stuff, his affectionate term for training. Then he pulled up his camera and made Gwen pose for you.

“Alright, lover boy,” Gwen said as she assumed a fighting stance. “Practice time!”

•

You stared up at your phone screen, sprawled out across your bedroom floor. A long abandoned World History outline pulled up on your laptop about a foot away from you.

You smiled when you got the message from Miles, it made you feel flittery in the stomach to know he had trusted you with such a big secret. You were the first person he called when he found out, not knowing who else he could count on.

Being Miles Morales’, newest Spider-Man to hit the streets of Brooklyn, best friend was a title you held very near and dear.

But, seeing the picture that popped up a few moments later, was the reason why that title was sometimes the worst.

You were just an outsider he trusted to confide in. You didn’t have amazing capabilities that kept a whole metropolitan safe. And as much as Miles lifted your spirits and said you were as much a part of the team as anyone, you couldn’t deny the facts.

You weren’t a spider-person.

Your eyes couldn’t help but linger on Gwen’s face and despite your constant and desperate attempts to push the emotion from your thoughts, it persisted.

The problem wasn’t even with her really. You had spoken to her dozen of times and you loved her. She was just so cool, you felt stupid for even trying to associate with her.

But she made you feel like the extra cog that really didn’t need to be there. She’d be a much better match for Miles, she understood what he was going through and helped him in ways that though you tried your hardest, could never fully understand.

When your thoughts became too loud and demanding you shut your phone off for the night, decided that you might as well turn your newfound energy onto something productive.

You tossed your phone on your bed to further distance yourself from it, and went to town on your outline.

•

Gwen pulled down the hood of her spider uniform, looking over her shoulder and raising a brow at the frown on Miles’ face as he fiddled endlessly with his phone. He had been doing that since their session was over.

“What’s up? You have that look on your face.” She said, leaning her shoulder against the secret headquarters in Aunt May’s backyard.

This is where the portable collider was kept, it allowed the rest of the spider-gang to meet up in times of crisis or just to simply pop by and say hello for a day.

It took months to make, but the combined minds of Peter B. and Peni were second to none. The size was much smaller than the original so the effects of deterioration weren’t as severe, but staying in another demention for too long still didn’t end well.

Miles didn’t answer at first, so distracted by his worry that he hadn’t even heard her. When he finally looked up, he was met with her expectant look. “What?”

“You look like something’s up,” She said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Is there?”

“Nah,” Miles said, unconvincingly, which made Gwen shoot him a look. “(Y/n) just isn’t answering their phone, it’s a first. Calls go straight to voicemail and no responses from my texts.”

Gwen nodded and didn’t say anything for a moment. “Stop by their place before you head home, if anything looks weird let me know. We can work it out tomorrow.”

Miles nodded, hesitantly sliding his phone into his jacket pocket. “I’ll see you then, text me when you land alright.”

She gave him a small salute and disappeared into the shed.

Miles checked his phone one more time, when he was still met with nothing, he webbed onto the nearest building and took off to your place.

It long gotten dark since training was over. But Miles could find his way to your’s even if he was blind at this point. He didn’t have to think about where he was going, he just ended up right outside.

Ever since he told you about his powers, you always left your window slighly open to let him in. And a bright nightlight on nearby to help him see it from far away.

But when he swung by landing swiftly onto the fire escape, the light was off and the window shut. He pulled up on it gently, but it was latched as well.

In a final attempt, he knocked softly on the glass a few times. But it was obvious you weren’t coming to let him in.

•

When it came to you and your safety, Miles was uncharacteristically no nonsense. He was up half the night with worry, phone on hand in case you called or messaged him. When he woke up the next morning with nothing, he made a beeline for your place.

After letting his parents know where he’d be.

Instead of pulling up to your window again, Miles went to your front door. A charming smile on his face as he said hello to your mother.

“Mornin’ Mrs. (L/n),” He said, letting his hands rest against his backpack straps. “(Y/n) in?”

Your mom beamed at him when she saw his face, ushering him inside as he finished talking.

“Hello, Miles,” She said, closing the door behind him. “I asked them to run down to the store for me real quick. Don’t mind the grumpy attitude when they get back though. They were up late last night studying but I’m sure you already know about that.”

Miles couldn’t help the defeated feeling that rose in his chest. You had this weird way of knowing when he needed to talk to someone, when he needed help. Whenever he was in a bad place, out of the blue he’d get a text from you asking if he was alright.

He was the superhero, but you were the one that made him feel safe.

Your mom nodded her head towards your bedroom door.“Go ahead in, they shouldn’t be gone much longer. I’m be sure to let (Y/n) know you’re here.”

So Miles made himself cozy on your bedroom floor, your carpet was crazy soft and anytime he was over he’d just longue there the whole time like a cat.

When the door opened a little while later, he grinned up at you but it fell immediately when you didn’t return it.

“You alright?” Mile said leaping onto his feet. “I was worried about you last night, I thought something was wrong.” He gave you a look over for any physical signs, and then he saw how uncomfortable you looked.

Miles took a step towards you, and placed his hand on your wrist. “You can talk to me about whatever you want, I’m here to listen.” He said, trying to sound like you would in the opposite situation.

You gave him a weak smile, one that lacked the usual sparkle that made his ears feel warm and his stomach do whirls. “Just needed a night of self-loathing, you know?” You attempted to ease the tension and flopped onto your bed.

“Self-loathing ‘bout what?” Miles asked, remaining where he stood. “You’re the best person in Brooklyn, in any demention I might add.”

He saw the small blush on your face and the way your eyes would immediately look away from him when he said something to make you flustered and he beamed. “I mean that you know.”

You started pulling at loose hems on your cardigan. “Oh please, you’re friends with people who have legit superpowers and can literally mind link with you. I think I’m allowed to self-loath a teeny bit.”

Miles shook his head and went to stand in fromt of you. “That’s wack, you’re my best friend. You don’t even need spidey senses to know what’s goin’ on inside my head,” He taped his finger against his temple and smiled. “You’re the best.”

You couldn’t help but smile back this time, he really just was the greatest.

You held out your hand for him to take, and when he did you pulled him down into a hug, his arms immediately returning the embrace.

“Thank you,” You said in a soft voice, exhaling deeply. “I needed to hear something like this.”

You felt his hold on you tighten slightly before he pulled back to look at you. Miles didn’t say anything at first, and you were about to ask him if he was alright when he placed a kiss on your forehead, right where your hairline started.

“You’ll tell me when your feeling like this again right? You take care of me all the time when I’m in a bad place and I wanna make sure I’m doing the same for you,” He leaned back and held out his pinky to you. “Promise?”

You laughed, linking your pinky around him

and nodding. “Promise.”

Miles smiled, releasing your pinky only

to pull on your hand to get you to stand. “Come on, I think I can smooth talk your Mom into getting us pizza.”

#gwen is honestly the spiciest #this mOVIE is the spiciest #please send me requests #i love seeing what y’all come up with #miles morales imagines #miles morales imagine #miles morales x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderverse imagine #into the spiderverse imagine #into the spiderverse

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pleasereadmeok · 6 years ago

Photo

“....his 6'2" frame and sea green eyes catapult him into that other plane of existence known as Ridiculously Good-Looking. To call him charming is kind of like saying Heidi Klum has a nice smile.”

“ ....his rarefied magnetism, that room-owning presence,”

“If every woman in America could share a bottle of Italian red and a plate of olives with Goode, he’d be bigger than Clooney. Scratch that—bigger than Brad”. Candice Rainey - Elle.

I HAVE TO AGREE.

Full interview with Matthew from 2008 - which is typically funny and charming - is under here. The end is ADORABLE!

I wanted to meet Matthew Goode at a wine bar. I remembered from an earlier encounter with the 30-year-old British actor that the guy is partial to the grape—not in a let's swirl and sniff while we muse on "the legs" way, but he knew his way around a wine list, confidently pronounced appellations, and is a believer in drinking glasses of it daily, because, you know, it's heart-healthy. His publicist, however, isn't on board. He has a meeting with a director right after. Can I choose a coffee spot? I pick a small Italian joint on New York's Lower East Side where they serve espresso, too.

When Goode slips out of the black sedan that's chauffeuring him around on this Monday afternoon and bounds through the door, he spots me, kisses me on both cheeks, and takes a seat at our small table nuzzled up against a floor-to-ceiling window.

"Right," he says, grinning. "Let's order some wine! And some bread and olives."

What about the thing with the director? Goode flashes me a look: Never mind that.

"Two glasses," He says to the waiter, who's holding a bottle of Pinot Nero, about to pour me one. "And we'll do a bottle of that."

If every woman in America could share a bottle of Italian red and a plate of olives with Goode, he'd be bigger than Clooney. Scratch that—bigger than Brad. He's wearing a wrinkled T-shirt, a black knit beanie, and faded Levis that hang just right off his hip bones. He smokes Marlboros. He quotes Cary Grant and the British columnist Jeffrey Bernard freely but so aptly that it doesn't come off as jerky, just incredibly...cool. "`None of my party drinks singles, they do have some style, you know.' That's one of my favorite lines in that play. I fucking love him," Goode says in his plummy English accent, referring to Keith Waterhouse and his play Jeffrey Bernard Is Unwell.

He tells me I have olive bits stuck in my teeth, and to make me feel like less of an idiot he pulls his cheek open with a hooked finger and shows me a jagged bottom molar that's half missing. "I have horrible teeth. I've been walking around like that for two years, and I still haven't gone to see a dentist about it."

He pops off funny, self-deprecating stories, like the time Emma Thompson told him he had a large Roman nose just like Peter O'Toole's before he got his done, that underline just how normal he is, despite the fact that his 6'2" frame and sea green eyes catapult him into that other plane of existence known as Ridiculously Good-Looking. To call him charming is kind of like saying Heidi Klum has a nice smile.

Of course, because he can't clone himself a million times over and steal wives and girlfriends away for a liquid lunch, the reality is that most women, and moviegoers in general, still don't know who the hell Matthew Goode is—mostly because we've only seen him in a handful of films, some of them uneven oddballs (Imagine Me & You and Copying Beethoven) that haven't exactly sent his career trajectory skyrocketing.

Nonetheless, his rarefied magnetism, that room-owning presence, has managed to seep through all of his work, snapping critics and directors to attention—even as a teen-dream heartthrob in 2004's Chasing Liberty, in which he played a Secret Service agent ordered to protect Mandy Moore, the president's daughter, as she jaunts around Europe. Though not exactly the kind of soul-stirring material for which Goode studied drama at the University of Birmingham ("It is what it is, but without it I wouldn't have been here"), it did lead to a supporting yet crucial role in Woody Allen's Match Point as Scarlett Johansson's fiancé, in which he nearly upstaged his costars.

Last year, Goode made himself unrecognizable in The Lookout, Scott Frank's twisted take on the heist-movie genre. He nailed the character, a diabolical American ex-con who preys upon a brain-injured janitor.

"The Lookout was what made me think, Yeah, he can do it," says 300 director Zack Snyder, who cast Goode as a not-so-straight-ahead villain in his comic-book geek-out Watchmen, due in 2009. "He's really interested in doing the work of acting."

Goode, who lives in London, is in town to promote this month's Brideshead Revisited, based on the 1945 novel by Evelyn Waugh, in which he stars as Charles Ryder, a reserved Englishman who forms an intense bond with an unhinged aristocratic Catholic family. Brideshead is a very British, very layered text, exactly the kind of material that's nearly impossible to jam into a two-hour film. That, compounded by the fact that it was made into a beloved UK miniseries starring Jeremy Irons 27 years ago, makes this production a potential suicide mission.

"I watched Brideshead Revisited," I tell Goode. "That's a complicated film. I'm not sure what my question is."

"What's it about?" Goode smiles and crinkles his brow. "Right."

"It reminds me of..."

"Gay porn?"

We should probably get to that. In the book, Ryder forms a close relationship with his schoolmate Sebastian Flyte (the son in the unhinged Catholic family), and it's unclear whether they are simply tight pals or Waugh meant to imply that they have a physical relationship. In the film, that question is answered—subtly, but answered.

Goode requests that we move outside so we can smoke. I ask him if he's nervous about how the film will be received.

"Every job you do is nerve-racking," he says, taking a drag off his cigarette.

But it feels like he's particularly skittish about this role.

"I'm not very well-known in England, so it's quite interesting that this is a job that will make me a little more known, perhaps. And it can make me more known for not a good reason—as in, they should have never fucking remade it. And that's nerve-racking."

Though he's the kind of actor who pores over script and dialogue (he could write the CliffsNotes for Brideshead at this point), Goode loathes describing his "process." "There's no way you can possibly explain it. And the more you do it, the more you sound like a dick. I don't want to hear, `I bled for you.' It's like, Fuck off."

He'd much rather talk about his girlfriend, Sophie, who lives in New York City but has agreed to move into a flat with Goode in London. He pulls out a billfold wallet with scrap-book-size 4" x 5"'s—Sophie bearing two Big Gulp-size margaritas in Mexico, Sophie satirically striking a voguing pose—all creased and worn around the edges.

Goode has to meet the director soon. We have one last cigarette, finish off our follow-up carafe, and he's off. I get a text five minutes later: "Fuck. I left without putting anything down for the bill. Sorry, even if it's ELLE, I should have got the tip. I'll get the wine in London. Love Goodey." Ladies, meet the next leading man.

#matthew goode #a discovery of witches

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theonceoverthinker · 6 years ago

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OUAT 4X04 - The Apprentice

Apprentice? More like Apprent-ICE, am I right?!

...Yeah, that’s all I got. Unfortunately, be warned because it’s not a fun time here today, so strap yourself in and join me under the cut.

Main Takeaways

Past

Gotta say, I love how the writers had the balls to say that the reason Anna and Elsa’s parents went away was to find a more permanent solution for Elsa. Was it the right thing to do? Whether you think it was or not, just the fact that they implied that was heavy.

I love that scream when Rumple gets his dagger back. Seeing how much he hates it is so effective and had he not been the undeniable villain of the episode and more specifically the segment, it might have done more to reapply sympathy to him and allow for a really effective display about why being cleaved of the dagger means so much to Rumple.

So, as a warning, I get pretty angry at the present segment of this episode and to remember that this segment of it exists was like a breath of fresh air. Anna and Rumple have consistent characterization and even throughout all of the twists and turns of this episode, those characterizations are never lost. Because of that, the story is far more powerful in delivering something cohesive and entertaining. Sometimes, for as simple as a story is, that’s what makes it something truly good. The latte segment tries to be all over the place and as I’ll go over shortly, fails so hard because of it.

Present

This episode...was never one I liked. For a while, I found it simply difficult to watch because well...I like Killian. Like with seeing his lips cursed in the last season or seeing Henry turn against Emma in the one before, it’s an action that made complete sense to me from a narrative perspective, but is nonetheless hard to watch and for some reason, this one is harder for me to watch than either of the others.

And after rewatching it, I kind of understand why.

It’s good in terms of being a morality play of sorts. Killian not being honest with Belle about Rumple’s secret is a horrible thing to do and the punishment, while brutal, does make sense given his crimes. Rumple’s manipulation and reverse psychology is so cutting to watch play out. While Killian is trying to improve, obviously, there are cracks to his still developing sense of heroism and Rumple knows how to exploit that into getting a lackey and making Killian pay. It’s a lot harder to enjoy since Rumple’s the villain of the episode, but I also understand that that’s a personally hard point.

That ALSO having been said, Killian’s near snapping points kind of suck. In the case of the first instance, it’s really fucking stupid for him to be so pissed at someone who simply tripped and caused some drink to fall on Emma’s dress. I don’t care what kind of psychology Gold played on him, it’s still really dumb. Now on some level, I get that given the “rings” speech Killian gives in Season 5 (Assuming that he came upon those rings before his encounter with Rumple, and at least one of them came afterwards) and that the move was clearly more subconscious than anything in how it was shot and how Colin played it, this is more up old Killian’s alley, but just...for all of Killian’s confidence, this is such a petty thing to make it falter and it stretches my suspension of disbelief just a smidge too much. The way that it’s played doesn’t help. It drags the date down in a really awkwardly written way where Killian is both enjoying himself and kind of can’t because of the hand. And in the second instance, the moment goes by so quick and is given such little focus that it’s just not as effective as the former point. I found both instances to be so utterly weak.

And how Killian goes after The Apprentice with barely a moment’s hesitation because of such small incidents isn’t really that well written to me. Like, what’s worse: Punching someone or allowing your arch enemy to have his fucking way with a man who very likely doesn’t deserve it? It doesn’t paint Killian in the way that the episode is trying to. The episode is trying to show that Killian is a good person with inner demons that hadn’t finished coming out, but that he wants to stop. But instead, Killian’s getting scared over basically nothing in terms of this series and rather than look for any other solution, opts to help Rumple do Merlin knows! And Killian does NOTHING as it happens! I thought I remembered an apology, but there isn’t one! He just stands there, makes no attempt to even subconsciously stop the hat, and it really grinds the wrong way against all the goodwill he’s accumulated.

The ONLY action of his that was bad, but I at least get the nucleus of is when he threatens Belle. He was angry at Rumple and was trying to irk him (Also, it might have been just metaphorically given the news he had). And when that’s all the segment can provide for me, then that’s just sad.

What’s more: For all the bravado made at the end of the episode for how much Killian will owe Rumple for this, Killian breaks four episodes later the MICROSECOND Emma’s threatened. And the time in between simply has Killian out of focus for the most part in regards to this dynamic! Look, I’m normally one of OUAT’s more defensive fans, but this legitimately, given all the characterization that was picked up only to be abandoned after this episode, must conclude that this episode was only meant to move the plot along by trapping the Apprentice, but unlike other episodes, I mean that in the worst way BECAUSE it tries for so much else only to abandon it afterwards.

And here’s the thing: If they were aiming to make Killian a villain protagonist in this episode, someone who we thought was good but was actually bad, I wouldn’t be complaining. I wouldn’t like it from an emotional standpoint because I don’t like Killian being hurt, but I do understand that Killian’s a character capable of great evil and an episode delving into that would’ve been great (That’s why I like the twist in “A Murder Most Foul” so much). But Killian is clearly, despite receiving Emma’s forgiveness, disturbed by the danger his possessed hand poses and that’s a good thing in both the audience’s perception and in the episode’s framing. Him wanting to get rid of that hand for that reason is a good thing. It’s not like he hurt David or Emma or someone else he cared about -- he hurt an asshole thief (As far as he knew) and was still freaked out enough to make a deal to get rid of the hand. And because of that, the framing is all over the place and seemingly can’t make up its mind about what it thinks of Killian here. And works akin to that can work -- my favorite musical is Hamilton and that show is as scathing as it is praising at times, but Alexander himself is a consistent character. Killian in this episode is about as consistent as curds and whey and it sucks. This came after one of the best Golden Hook scenes EVER. How did they fuck that up in such a way?!

I like how Emma shows real strides in taking the advice given to her about not letting another crisis stop her from living her life. She actually makes the choice to not only go out on a date, but to not chase a thief. She’s prioritizing the important things and living and that’s solid development.

There is literally no point to Henry working at Rumple’s shop. Nothing comes of this and that’s a shame! It contributes nothing to Operation Mongoose, derails this already derailed episode even more with the awkward way that it pops up, and its lack of depth deprives the audience of Neal bonding as well as Rumple and Henry bonding. And again, that sucks. It doesn’t even contribute to saving Killian, like the placement of the hat during the ending scene implies that it might, and that makes it doubly frustrating! Like, there was potential for this idea (Maybe have Henry ask some more questions or delve into Henry’s feelings on Rumple’s betrayal and how it affects Operation Mongoose later since the villain who seemingly got his happy ending lost it).

All Encompassing

I like the more subtle theme of backing away from temptation. Anna steps away from the temptation of saving her sister at the cost of the Apprentice (Or so she thinks) and this is correctly framed as the right thing to do. Killian both does this and doesn’t do this. He backs away to ask for his hook back upon seeing the damage he does to others, but doesn’t back away at the darkness of the cost of that hook (Allowing for Rumple to put the old man in the hat).

Stream of Consciousness

-Ooh! It’s The Sorcerer’s Apprentice! M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E! XD

-I like that we got to see Zoso again. You know, seeing as he was Rumple’s mentor, I wonder what it was like for him to train Rumple. I HC that it wasn’t a long journey since Rumple adapted to the darkness fairly easily, but the dynamic would’ve been interesting to see nonetheless.

-What parent names their kid Zoso? And I thought Malcolm hated Rumplestiltskin! XD

-”No Dark One will ever possess what’s in that box.” ...Well, you’re half right.

-“No, but I want you to be happy.” Someone remind me one day to write a giant ass post about why I think the Captain Cobra dynamic is so good because believe it or not, a line like this actually boosts my love for this dynamic!

-That missed dart will brighten me up on my darkest days! :D

-”What are you, like 300?” Don’t get people started, Emma.

-I don’t think I ever realized how close Mr. Gold’s was to Granny’s!

-”You kept it all these years?” Rumple, I know revenge and self loathing and all that, but there is no heterosexual answer to this question! XD

-”This hand belongs to the man you used to be.” I kind of wane back and forth around how bad that dude actually used to be. On one hand, “Good Form” shows that Killian was raring to go, violence wise, but his behavior in Milah’s town in “The Crocodile” suggests that there were circumstances where he wasn’t a pillager. So was it just noble pillaging or was that just an exception? Opinions?

-”That’s just A through E.” Was that an Adam and Eddy reference? Because that’s pretty cute! XD

-So my journey with Killian’s Storybrooke outfit was a bit of an adventure. I didn’t like it when it first came out, but I will admit that that was partially because I was holding out for seeing him in a suit or even a tux AND I missed the pirate coat and the glorious chest hair we got because of it. BUT the more time that I spent with the outfit, the more I liked it and as of a few months ago, I now own a kickass custom Funko of this specific outfit! XD

-”It seems he indeed has changed his ways.” Killian, I get that you’ve gotta explain the sudden reappearance of your hand, but that might be a little too much, even for you.

-I didn’t realize it, but the Apprentice has some jokes to him! I like that bit of personality and wish we got a bit more of it.

-Killian, you don’t get to make poses like that and expect me to live through them!

-”Shouldn’t you be happy [That Marian’s frozen]?” Dude, whether she’s with someone or not, an innocent woman’s doing her best popsicle impersonation because of that frozen heart! Henry, not your best moment!

-That weird bit of Killian looking at his hand mid-kiss is DUMB! Like, I can almost forgive the dumb snapping point at the restaurant because it was somewhat unconscious, but this is Killian focusing on kissing Emma and just a LITERAL SECOND AGO, he was happy with his hands around her. That was simply a poor writing, shooting, and music choice.

-SNOW AND DAVID ON THE COUCH IS NEVER NOT FUNNY! XD

-Emma, don’t just leave your folks! Gossip!

-”Because I don’t want to.” I love how blatant and frank Rumple is with so many of his lines! XD

-We got flowers! We got a run in in a car! DATE NIGHT 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO!

-I love how Rumple’s such a fucking drama queen that he HAD the fucking hook on his person! XD

-I love how Storybrooke has a dedicated radio station! That must be the most interesting job in the world! If by some miracle, I’m ever transported to Storybrooke, I’m getting a fucking internship! XD

-And I love how Granny’s sponsors said radio station! Does she not have enough money?! XD

-Oh hey! Rip Van Winkle survived his deleted scene with Rumple and made it to Storybrooke! XD

-...Wow, Will. They were really planning something for you….I think. (Fun fact: You ever want to unlock my hidden salt? Talk to me about Will Scarlet, apparently! XD )

-I know a lot of people think Killian might have been homeless at this point in the series, but I HC that he just drank himself to sleep or that he just didn’t want to be around people for risk of hurting them.

-I love how Robert Carlyle plays Rumple when Rumple loving what he’s doing, but he’s in Storybrooke mode so he can’t exactly show it but still is showing it. Does that make sense?

-I KNOW YOU, RUMPLE! “OLD FRIEND” MY AUNT FROU FROU!

-YES! MICKEY MOUSE SAVES THE DAY! M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E, MOTHERFUCKER!!!

-Anna, I will forever love the fact that you call the most danger artifact in the OUAT world a “wavy knife.”

-I also love how she proceeds to say “please” to Rumple! XD

-Anna, you are my fucking hero!

-Anyone notice how The Sorcerer is very likely the owner of that gaudy af red and white car?

-”So here we are, Captain. Still in business together.” This line was always weird to me. It had no congruity with the story and for such a big line, it has no presence.

-Umm makeup? Will doesn’t look like he has a shiner.

-Damn, that investigation scene was weird.

-”...before the trail gets...cold.” Thank you, Emma for gracing me with a pun! I needed that!

Favorite Dynamic

Anna and Rumple. These two are fucking hilarious together! Rarely does Rumple get to have a back and forth with someone not only oblivious, but also hysterical and Anna meets this weird mix to a tee! Their banter is truly one of a kind and I’d have seriously loved more scenes of them together! I also love how Anna learns from Rumple! When she finally gets her hands on the dagger, she is VERY careful about how she handles Rumple and her commands! Seeing Rumple’s lip twitch as he is forced to save The Apprentice is just one of the greatest moments ever! Not only that, but I found their dynamic to be a little necessary. While Killian is getting his just desserts for doing bad in this episode (Though it might be a bit overkill-y (Or should I say, over KILL-I-AN XD) for me), Rumple is doing bad too in the present with no consequence and I feel like the flashback here showing his proverbial ass getting handed to him made that a lot more palatable.

Writer

Andrew Chambliss and Dana Horgan are our writers today. It’s actually Dana’s first and...it really shows. I don’t feel too guilty attributing the present segment to Dana as she’s written second on the writer’s list, but correct me if that’s a mistake of judgment on my part. There is no understanding of Killian’s character or what she wants to do with him here and because of that, he flops on the deck like a fish. And when you’re dealing with such a delicate dynamic as Killian’s and Rumple’s, you need to provide it Andrew’s segment of the episode however is fantastic! Everything is much more cohesive!

Rating

6/10. This was is many ways such a failure of an episode. I GET what they were trying to do -- expose cracks in Killian’s redemption so that the door was open to explore more with his character, but the result of the work here made Killian an incomprehensible mess. His morality is all over the place, but not in the way it intended. Honestly, if not for all the goodwill Killian developed earlier on and following this episode, this singular episode might have destroyed my love for his character. If this segment were on it’s own, it very likely would’ve been tied for the series’ low of 3/10. Thankfully, the past segment is such a redeeming factor here. The story is far tighter and the characterizations were done so carefully. Additionally, Mr. Gold is at least consistent in the present segment and Robert Carlyle’s performances here are excellent in selling that sanrmyness of Rumple’s. But the rest of it is trash and apart from the hat scene and the flashback, are completely irrelevant throughout the rest of the series.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

Captain Swan - So before we get into the squee of things, I gotta talk about Henry. Despite that “no,” Henry is the one to push Emma into that diner. If he didn’t want her asking Killian out, he wouldn’t have done that. I’ll get into this when I one day talk about how much I love Captain Cobra, but I love how Henry likes Killian, but his feelings towards Killian dating Emma are a lot more ambiguous. Okay, we good! Now let’s get into AWESOMENESS that is the date stuff! First off, Killian wastes no time focusing on the mission because he knows how important it is to Emma and assures her that they’ll find her, all the while oblivious to Emma’s adorable nervousness. And then she asks him out and he misses so adorably! And the age banter and the planning banter! Fuck! I just can’t! And I get to watch a whole date of them! I’m already in pain from smiling. But before that, I’ve got to point out how Killian, despite being a lot fucked up i his method, is going for his hand back on the off chance that Emma wants him to hold her! That is just too romantic! Rumple, you’re right about blackmail and his romantic side! Ok! I love those first few seconds where Emma and Killian cannot speak because they’re admiring each other so much. Like, oh my FUCK! That is too cute! And can we talk about And then we get the actual date and while Killian’s having his mini panic attack, Emma’s the one to comfort him and tell him it’s okay. I really like how they both support each other in this way! “Will you go out with me again?” Because I’ve seen that thread where people started the show because of a gifset of that and I’m STILL shook af! And Emma’s response with that kiss is too beautiful! Like, she can’t even think of how to verbalize how much “YES” she has in her so she decides to kiss that “YES” and burn it into everyone’s skull for all eternity! And the way she stands by the door once it’s closed...that’s actual perfection. Like, I can die a happy woman!

Rumbelle - I’m not gonna defend Rumple’s actions in this episode, but seeing just how far he goes to fuck with Killian for threatening his marriage really does show how much he values said marriage. I also loved the deleted scene where Belle returns to the library and think that would’ve been better had it made it on screen.

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I hate bitching about an episode and I wasn’t looking forward to doing it at all, so much so that I pushed doing this episode off twice! I want to say that hopefully that’s the last time I need to review an episode like that, but unfortunately, I’m not a fan of the next episode either. This...is gonna be a hard week.

BUT thank YOU all the same for reading! You made this bit of suffering worthwhile! And thanks to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales as well as @daensarah! See you next time!

Season 3 Total (35/230) Writer Scores: Adam and Eddy: (9/60) Jane Espenson: (10/40) David Goodman and Jerome Schwartz: (10/50) Andrew Chambliss: (6/50) Dana Horgan: (6/30)

*Links to the rest of my rewatch will no longer be provided. They take posts with links outside of searches and I spend way too much time on these reviews to not give them that kind of exposure. Sorry for the inconvenience, but they still can be found on my page under Operation Rewatch.

#ouat #once upon a time #watching fairytales #ouat 4x04 #ouat rewatch #jenna watches ouat

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