#the blank kid stare could be so menacing

[thebrokenmechanicalpencil]

Old eyes young faces.

Ok but what about God like creatures looking like children? The form the moon takes is a young boy, eyes blind but ever-seeing. That blank gaze is not innocent but much more like the eyes of a old man.

Kings startled as a child walks out from behind his throne, gaze knowing and full of delight. Blindingly full of wisdom as knife like words slip from their tongue as they lean over the armrest.

Never blinking and drinking in the fear caused by their very presence, because their mouths are too red, eyes too old. Faces gaunt or pudgy but perfect all the same.

Boys with thin shoulders and demanding respect every time they enter a room, throwing emperors to their knees. Little girls who sent armies to do their bidding, looking no bigger than a seven year old. But they smile coldly as their champions are victorious.

Bands of dark gods sitting on thrones with dimples on their cheeks. Looking at a misbehaving lesser under their eyelashes.

The scrunch of a nose and suddenly the sky has lost its stars. Your men and yourself shiver as white lights of the child's eyes grow farther up. Their true mass and scale eating the air and tearing it from their lungs.

Women gently petting a strange girls head after the child had led the new mother's pair of twins back to her. The toddlers giggling and clinging to the oddly wide mouthed girl who only nods and continues on her way.

Men being comforted on the battlefield after their death by a sour faced girl, who gently grabs one of their fingers and leads them away.

When a smile is stretched too far, just enough to make men stutter as the god watches them. Icy eyes digging into their skin, matted with dirt and grease from their ill-gotten gains.

Children who can stretch and rip apart their rib cages to make a point, bones snapping as their odd cloak shimmers revealing their true nature.

Just thoughts..

[reallykaz]

— .toothpaste kisses // chris sturniolo

chris sturniolo x bestfriend!fem!reader

plot summary : you and chris come home from a party in a fit of drunk giggles and decide to help each other get ready for bed but end up in a compromising position with his body so close to yours and his toothbrush in your mouth.

content warnings : basically nothing but strong language and mentions of drinking and being drunk. matt being a menace lmaoo. using each others toothbrush??? a little sexual tension hehe. idiots in love and a whole lotta fluff!!

a/n : an idea i got whilst listening to ‘toothpaste kisses by the maccabees’ it’s a cute song so check it out if you want! always appreciate all likes, comments and reblogs! mwuah <3

wc : 2.4k

"Ah! I’m gonna fall!"

You let out a fit of giggles as you try to put one foot in front of the other whilst walking up the stairs to get to his living room. Chris was laughing too with an arm wrapped tightly around your waist with the excuse that it would help your balance but he knew he was equally as drunk as you right now so it was pretty pointless.

He just wanted to be close to you.

"No!" Chris slurs with a stupid smile, stumbling into your side and you can feel his grip tighten around your body and it makes your tummy swirl with butterflies that recently seem to appear every time you see Chris. "I’ll catch you, baby."

Matt rolls his eyes from behind you two, car keys in one hand and your black heels in the other after you begged him to take them off a few minutes ago. "Guys be quiet, Nick’s asleep."

"Shhh Chris! Nick’s sleeping." You whisper as you feel Matt’s hand pushing gently on your back and you turn to Chris, your finger coming up to his lips but you pull it away when he opens his mouth and bites it. "Matt, he’s biting me." You dramatically pout and hold out your finger in his face.

"Stop biting her, Chris." Matt rolls his eyes with a sigh as he pushes your finger away and finally gets the two of you to the living room in one piece before dropping your shoes on the floor with a thud and throwing his keys somewhere else.

When Matt turns around again, you and Chris were squaring off to each other and he rubs his tired eyes. Poor kid just wanted to go to sleep.

"Rah!" You’re in a complete fit of giggles when Chris tries to bite you again, playfully pushing him away as you kneel over in laughter.

"What have you guys been drinking?" Matt stares at the both of you and tries to hide his smile when Chris pulls you closer to him. He was happy his brother had someone like you - a yin to his yan, his twin flame, his other half. A true best friend.

Matt loved the fact that Chris had someone that could easily bounce off his energy whenever needed. All he hated was that neither one of you would admit that you were stupidly in love with each other. It was like everyone could see it except you and Chris.

But as of right now, he was more than positive that neither of you couldn’t see shit right now.

"Rah!" You try to jump on Chris but he loses his balance and the both of you end up dropping to the kitchen floor into a pool of joy and laughter, barely registering the hard bang that you’ll definitely feel tomorrow morning with a bruise.

Matt checks the time on his phone and sighs, disguising his smile with a blank expression. "Okay that’s enough. Get up and go to bed."

"Help me?" You slur, eyes barely open and holding out your arms for Matt to grab onto. Chris huffs from next to you and holding his head as he tries to grab onto the couch that was on the other side of the room, clearly way too drunk to realise.

When he finally pushes himself halfway up, Matt chuckles when he walks over and shoves Chris back to the floor in good brotherly fashion before pulling you upright. "Chris?" You mumble as you untangle yourself from Matt’s arms to look at your best friend who was practically passed out.

"Hm? What the fuck?" He grumbles, opening his eyes and pushing himself up off the floor once again, brows furrowed in confusion as he tries to figure out how he was still on the floor.

Matt stifles a laugh from behind you before he walks in front to pull Chris up since your attempt was just ‘holding out your arms in hopes he’ll grab onto it’ type of uselessness.

Chris soon finds himself in your arms again, holding onto each other like you depended on it. If it was up to him, he’d happily stay next to you for the rest of his lifetime and the next.

You rest your head on his shoulder with an arm wrapped tightly around his back as he slowly drags you down the stairs to his bedroom. Matt watches from the top, waiting to see if any of you will tumble to the bottom and pass out but when neither of you do he just backs away, "I’m going to bed so be quiet."

"Yeah, yeah whatever tough guy." Chris mumbles and rolls his eyes as he opens the bedroom door for you like a true gentleman. You pull away when you walk in and look down at your outfit, "I hate my dress." Tugging the tight fabric away from your waist with a huff before it clings back.

"Why? You look perfect." Chris replies, eyes glossing over as he admires your body and everything else about you. He hated the fact he didn’t have the courage to tell you that whilst sober and the way you look so beautiful tonight just like all of the other days he sees you. "You always look perfect," being brave with a mumble as he pulls his shoes off and looks away from you.

It’s like you don’t acknowledge anything he just said when you turn to face him, "can i wear one of your tees?" Not even giving Chris time to reply before you’re already stumbling your way into his closet and finding some of his fresh love shirts.

Obviously you heard what he said because you always do, even in a state like this. But the way it felt too good to be true scared you into ignorance and you got good at pretending even when your heart was pounding and your mind swirled with thoughts of just kissing and loving on him.

You can hear the faint sound of music playing as you clumsily scramble the black dress off your body and slip on Chris’s shirt, sighing in relief after you feel like you can finally breathe again. The task itself took longer than usual since you kept tripping over air and almost falling on your ass for the second time tonight.

Walking back out and leaning on the closet door, you look at Chris with a stupid grin. He was lying on the edge of the bed shirtless and struggling to undo his belt whilst humming to the music playing quietly from his phone. "Want help?"

Chris looks up with flushed cheeks when you catch him struggling to change and he lets out a nervous chuckle, "It’s stuck." When you walk over, he finally looks down at your outfit and his heart melts at his ultimate favourite sight of you in his clothes. Chris would give you all of his shirts if he knew it meant anything to you like it did to him.

His body goes into overdrive when your hand is on his belt and his mind instantly imagines this in a much different dirtier context that leaves him just staring at you wide eyed like a puppy.

"It’s not stuck you idiot."

Chris lifts his hips up when you gently pull the belt off, eyes glancing at your naked thighs makes his cock twitch and he has to look back at your face to steady his breathing.

He can’t tell if his mind was spinning from the alcohol or if it was the smirk on your face. It’s probably both but the way you’re looking at him wasn’t helping and his eyes glance at your lips for just a second. If Chris wasn’t so in his head, he would’ve seen you do the exact same thing.

You’re leaning over his body and for some reason your face was a little too close to his but neither of you pulled away. The butterflies were back again and goosebumps appear on your skin this time and your heart knew it was all Chris but your mind made excuses up for you. Like always.

You were both drunk and the too many tequilas you had earlier was making your tummy swirl and you were just cold. That’s it. Nothing more. Nothing less. These feelings for Chris was too all consuming to the point that it scared you. You couldn’t lose him over rejection.

You’re completely fine loving Chris in your heart, where nobody else can reach but him.

When you lean closer, Chris freezes under you and for a split second he was convinced you were gonna kiss him. But when you place his belt next to his thigh and grab his hands with that pretty smile you always have, he knew it was all wishful thinking. Obviously you wouldn’t kiss him!

"We have to brush our teeth."

Dragging Chris up off the bed, you hold his hand going into the bathroom and he turns on the light behind you. You pivot your body away to look in the mirror and frown at how you look - hair frizzed, mascara smudged and lipgloss gone.

"You look like a mess," Chris was also staring at your reflection with a teasing smile and toothbrushes in his hands that makes you turn to look at his face. "And you’re annoying," your fake scowl disappears to match his smile and he laughs as you take the toothbrush, fingers brushing against his.

"But you love me," he mumbles with his eyes still trained on your reflection as if he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you close as you focus on putting toothpaste on both of your brushes.

"Of course," You mumble softly as you begin brushing your teeth casually. The alcohol was making your mind feel less hyper and more sleepy since you felt fuzzy to the point you don’t even realise you’ve stopped brushing.

Chris just smiles when he sees your eyes drooping. He thought you looked adorable.

"Hey, look at me." You feel Chris turn your body to press against his when you widen your eyes to look at him more clearly, surprised but content with how close your faces were.

"Hi." You slur with a whisper, pulling your toothbrush out of your mouth. When you lean over the sink to spit it out, Chris holds your hair back so you don’t get any toothpaste in it. "Sorry that was gross," wiping your mouth, your cheeks get warm with embarrassment when you look back at Chris who just shook his head.

"Shut up," he smiles.

"Let me brush your teeth." You drunkenly giggle as you lift up your toothbrush up to Chris’s mouth and surprisingly, his mouth opens for you. Your own mouth opens when his own toothbrush finds it way past your lips and he brushes gently, as if he was scared to hurt you.

The two of you are left in another fit of giggles mixed with messy toothpaste froth and water. You remind yourself that the blush on your cheeks was from the alcohol and not the way Chris held you tighter when he leans over to spit in the sink.

You do the same afterwards as if it’ll cure the desirable need to kiss him…it doesn’t.

He holds your hair back again and begins to think about his feelings about you. After his first talking stage, Chris has always sworn of relationships because of his underlying commitment issues that it caused and now the thought of having a girlfriend scared the shit out of him.

But lately, he’s found himself looking at couples in public and then imagining you and him in their position, just doing simple things like holding hands whilst walking down the street, sharing an ice cream or just random acts of affection because, why not? But then realised you already do all of that stuff with him and it wasn’t scary.

The only part that scares Chris is that this was you. Not some random girl off Instagram or a hook up at a party. You were constant. He knew that you preferred to sleep on the left side of his bed. He knew that you liked showers more than baths because they made you feel better. He knew that you would steal his clothes and then return them without telling him. The point was, Chris knew all of these little things and silly quirks that you do because you were simply just there.

And he loved it. Really loved it.

"Chris?" You’re gently rubbing his mouth with a warm towel when you watch him blink back into reality. "I thought you fell asleep with your eyes open again," you joke with a warm laugh as you turn your head to fold the towel but Chris grabs it from your hands and drops it to the floor.

"What did you do–

His lips take your breath away but for some reason you instinctively throw your arms around his neck and kiss him back whilst your eyes flutter shut. Chris smiles against your lips and his hands wander down to your hips, pulling you flush against his body and he could taste the mint on your breath when you open your mouth for him.

You let out a small whimper when Chris’s tongue slides into your mouth and the heat between your thighs gets stronger. His hand travel further down and begins to pull up the t-shirt you’re wearing ever so slightly to grab onto your ass. You lean on your tip-toes to hold onto his face and press your lips harder into his.

You felt so needy for each other but the both of you knew it wasn’t the right time.

You pull away first with a dazed smile as your thumb gently wipes Chris’s bottom lip that was slick with spit. "I’ve always wanted to do that," he whispers and you melt under his gaze, your tummy whirling with desire. "Me too."

Chris feels an overwhelming sense of joy and just can’t seem to wipe the silly grin off his face. He was just so happy to realise that this was it, he wasn’t scared anymore. He wanted you. And he knew you wanted him too. That shared feeling between one another was special.

When your hands trail down Chris’s bare chest and you feel how warm his skin was, he wishes thinks you’re about to kiss him again but when your face suddenly lights up and he sees that look in your eye, the energy shifts and he knows you’re about to ask something stupid.

"Will you help me take off my makeup?"

"Do i have a choice?"

"No, not really."

"….where’s the wipes?"

[just-jordie-things]

I have a idea so like, there this challenge, it like the kid tells their mom to shut up, and see what the dad does

And I wondering if you could do

Toji, Gojo, Geto, Choso, Sukuna, and Nanami, and who whoever else u want to do

Hopefully you like the idea thank you!

definitely some crack head canons but i love crack content and barely write it myself so lets go for it !!

FUSHIGURO TOJI

as annoyed as you'd be with your kid for being disrespectful, you're instantly scooping up the brat and holding them to your chest bc toji is booking it from across the house.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY YOU LITTLE SHIT?"

your kid is crying instantly (from guilt- bc they know better than to talk to you that way- and now their dad is going to going to raise hell)

they're wailing about how sorry they are- "I didn't mean it mommy!" over and over- it's almost annoying

toji thinks that must come from you because where else would the brat learn to take accountability pfft

he probably stuffs their mouth with soap and they'll never speak to you that way again.

GETO SUGURU

in an au where geto isn't a mass murderer...

if he hears your child tell you to shut up, he instinctively straightens up and tells them to "knock it off!" in that classic dad tone

probably goes for a time out session- but if your kid's especially bratty then he's gonna make their life hell. by that i mean the most brutal torture of all- no phone, no tv, and no hanging out with friends for the week. *shiver*

but your kid's a good kid, they just had a nasty moment and let their words get ahead of them. so that night they're knocking at our door and telling you they're sorry.

geto doesn't want to lift the grounding, but you're a fair ruler in this household and grant your kid their little freedoms :)

GOJO SATORU

just for kicks- this one will be megumi centered, bc i love bratty little megumi heh heh heh

when he tells you to shut up, he hadn't even thought twice about it. it's not like he had a filter.

he also hadn't really meant it, it was sarcastic of course, because megumi actually liked you- but he'd never admit it.

(you were the lesser of two evils when it came to gojo)

but the words come out and in the next second he's dangling in the air, suspended there with Gojo's hand firmly wrapped around his ankle.

you're squealing, scolding the childish man to "put him down!" but he's not listening.

the brat tried to hurt your honor after all. and he must defend it.

"apologize to my wife, brat! or face punishment"

("i'm not your wife, satoru" "hush, wife" *eye roll*)

megumi's thrashing around, little fists swinging and missing as he tries to attack the blindfolded idiot

"go on. keep fighting. all the blood will rush to your lil' noggin and then you'll pass out. i'm sure that's a pleasant feeling"

you can't stand by and let this go on, so with a sigh you pull megumi away from satoru, and place him upright on the ground

"those techniques may work on other eight year olds, 'gumi, but you'll have to try harder if you want to take on a big oaf like him"

"hey!"

"okay" megumi agrees with a nod, before mumbling an apology for his previous rudeness, and running off with pink cheeks.

CHOSO

as soon as the kid says it-

blank stare.

the table you'd previously been eating dinner at goes completely silent, with your kid and Choso trapped in their eye contact

you also don't know what to say, so you're also trapped in this silence

your kid's eyes are round, huge, blown wide with fear. a deer caught in headlights.

and choso's expression is perfectly neutral, not a single crease or twitch giving in to any sort of expression.

it's more menacing than a sneer.

if you'd been chewing, you'd be choking by now.

at first, your kid's so quiet that you don't realize they're speaking, until choso's voice comes out, clear and monotone.

"properly, now"

your kid turns to you, their face laced with guilt for being so rude to you.

"i'm sorry, mommy, i didn't mean it"

"better" choose huffs

"it's alright, little one," you assure them kindly. "i forgive you"

the awkwardness lasts for the rest of dinner, but that's just chose being protective and wanting his kid to learn their manners

RYOMEN SUKUNA

sorry but your kid is gone ¯\ (ツ) /¯

he'll get you another one.

NANAMI KENTO

oof. this man is going to deliver a three hour lecture on respecting parents, respecting women, and respecting you specifically.

your kid probably doesn't even remember why they'd said it by the time he's done.

it's the perfect punishment really. your kid walks away learning something and also goes straight to bed because now it's quite late.

he's proud of himself ofc, he's done a good thing. he made a good move as a father and also made sure your kid knew just how much to value and respect you.

you- who's asleep at the table because maybe his lecture was a little too much.

oh well, he thinks as he carries you to bed. surely your kid will tell you all about it tomorrow when they apologize.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Imagine this: a younger/kid PC finding out about the attic, maybe even a picture from when Bailey and Eden were still in school, and is now determined to find Eden, and try to bring the two together again

———

Basically The Parent Bait, but there’s only one (1) annoying and stubborn kid (except anon has never seen the movie)

Bailey knew you were a menace as soon as you were dropped off on his doorstep. And he was right. You break out of the youth wing and wander around, you latch onto him as he passes by despite his best efforts to not be fatherly, and of course he caught you coming down the ladder from the loft.

Now you've followed him to his meeting with Eden, staring up at both of them with a big smile on your face as they feel a mutual relief that they kept their pants on.

"One of yours...?" Eden looks jumpy, ready to get gone. Its best that people don't know he exists, and if this kid is some sort of spy (a terrible one if they are), then it could mean trouble.

Bailey flicks some ash off the end of his cigarette. "You're meant to be at school, kid."

His glare doesn't change a thing, you're still there, swinging your arms back and forth as you rock on your feet, a giggle bubbling up from your chest.

"Is this your boyfriend from that old photo?"

Both of them freeze. There's an old photo? You used the word 'boyfriend', too, which doesn't help with how god damn fragile the line of friendship and lovers is between the two.

"We aren't boyfriends, what fucking photo, kid?"

Your little hand dives straight into your pocket, producing a faded picture with creases marking the material. "This one! From an old box in the loft. I don't know why you don't like me up there, it's just dusty."

There's so much innocence still in your eyes. So much lack of knowledge about the world leaving blank spaces in your head that you fill with dreams. You don't even seem to realise how the mention of the loft makes both men grow pale.

Bailey snatches the photo from you, briefly glancing at it to ensure its really them. Eden looks away from it. He'll have to burn it later.

"Wait here kid. Don't move - not an inch, do you understand? I need to talk about something you're too young for, so no listening in."

He grabs the fabric of Eden's coat, hauling him several feat away before speaking once more in hushed tones. "I'm worried about this one. They'll give me a stress heart attack when they're older, I just know it. Hope someone just adopts them so I won't have to put up with them."

No response from Eden as he looks at you over his shoulder, nodding his head when you wave at him.

Bailey continues. "They think I'm like. Their dad or something. It pisses me off, Eden, how can one kid be that dumb? I mean-"

"Or whoever raised them this far was just as much of a cold bastard as you and they think it's normal cause they don't know anything else."

Sometimes Eden says smart things. Sometimes. Bailey rarely likes it. "Yeah well they should learn better anyway."

Eden has something in his eyes when he looks back at you once more. A hint of pity and wistfulness.

"I want kids, I ever tell you that?" They're speaking quietly, but this one is whispered.

The hunter can't adopt. He doesn't have the paperwork, can't pass inspections. But you're an adventurous kid who runs off a lot.

"I can just report them missing. You'd be doing me a favour, and it's better than killing them because they know we used to be just like them."

A month passes before he's able to see Eden again. A month where it looks like the man hasn't slept and has claw marks on his face. He's smiling, though.

"The kid decided we needed a pet badger."

Fatherhood looks good on him.

"But also is asking when their other dad is coming for tea."

And you're still finding ways to make his life difficult.

[banannabethchase]

weird little smut prompt: Matt needs help getting out of his very tight jeans and oh no now he's bent over with his pants stuck around his knees. (spin the wheel for who he's with or just go with whoever your heart desires)

Stuck

~

I finished this days ago and thought I posted it. I did not. WHOOPS.

~

Matt, he has to admit, is stuck.

“Nick?” he calls. He tries to wiggle his hand out, but even that is pinned. Stupid skinny suit pants. Stupid fan servicing. Stupid him, frankly, for reading the comments about his suits being too loose. Now he’s effed. “Jack? Anybody?” He hobbles, bent over with one hand pinned to his thigh. “Okada, are you out there?”

His humiliation quota for the year apparently isn’t over yet, because the person who walks by is quite possibly the last person he wants to see him so compromised. “Hanger!” he says. “How, uh. How are you?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” His frown is far more menacing with that absurd mustache, and it’s the one thing that has Matt hanging to his last thread of dignity.

“A new dance,” Matt says. “The kids are doing it. It’s a bit for BTE.”

Adam frowns and stares. “You don’t run BTE anymore.”

“I was joking!” Matt says. He thrashes a little, hoping the action is enough to dislodge his hand, at least. It backfires. He flings over and, without his right hand free to grab at the wall, he goes flying and crashes directly into Adam. “Very clearly, I’m stuck.”

“No shit.” Adam shuffles out from under him and there’s a rather rude thud as Matt goes ass first onto the floor.

“You could help,” Matt says, pretending he’s not pleading. “You know. A show of good faith.”

“A show of good faith would be leaving you here to be trampled by the crew after the show,” Adam says. He folds his arms across his chest. “The fuck are you trying to do, anyway?” He slaps at Matt’s hand stuck in his pants. “Looks suspicious.”

“I – I was not jerking it,” Matt hisses. “Help me up so you can help me with my pants in the EVP room.”

“I said I’d never set foot in an EVP room and you said you’d calm the fuck down, so I guess we’re both liars.” With a sigh, Adam squats down, gets his arms under Matt, and stands to bring him into the room. It’s – well, weird is the easy way to call it.

“Is this you seducing me or something?” Matt asks, trying not to sound too hopeful. “Because you could if you wanted. Look at me, all helpless and stuck with my pants halfway down my legs.”

“You’re fucking impossible.” Adam drops him on one of the couches. “You good?”

“Literally no,” Matt says. The movement managed to push the pants a little farther down, which is good for how the waistband was cutting into his skin, but now his hand is even more stuck, which is decidedly not good. “I think my circulation is getting cut off. I might lose my hand if you don’t help.”

“I thought I did help by bringing you in here.” Adam’s face is blank enough that it has to be intentional. It has to be.

Matt sighs. “Well, if you’re able to live with yourself, knowing that you could have saved me from amputation and possible gangrene and you didn’t, that’s on your conscience.”

Adam groans and throws his head back. “I can’t fucking stand you.”

Between the two of them, Adam gets his elbow into the suit gear pants and manages to pull the fabric Matt’s hand can slip out after about five minutes of arguing. Adam’s almost smiling through most of it, though. That feels like a win.

“Thank God,” Matt says. “I think I can get them off now.” He shuffles his pants and boxers off. His final hail Mary.

“Good,” Adam says. He walks backward toward the door, but his eyes stay on Matt. He hesitates briefly, glancing behind him and then back at Matt. Matt sticks his ass out a little bit more. Arches his back. Licks his lips.

“Don’t move,” Adam says. “Don’t pull the pants up.”

Matt grins, but tries to keep the smug glee in line. He doesn’t want Adam to change his mind. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

[2n2n]

hi!! i have two questions, i apologize in advance that theyre about mitsuba and kou, but theyre also about the yugi twins, so i hope u can forgive me...

first!! i see a lot of ppl complaing/being sad that hanako and kou dont really have any moments interacting together anymore, posting screenshots, mourning their lost early series friendship ... and i dont really get it? to me, hanako never really liked kou, he was more "playing pretend" to appease nene, he doesnt seem to value him as a friend... theres the "kid"(<deragatory) he does, to emphasize that he is the Older, Experienced Guy in this relationship and kou doesnt have anything of value to add... but then again, ive never really sat down to reread everything in one go, so i might be missing something... do you have anything to say on hanako and kous relationship and how/why it developed?

second question!! i noticed that mitsuba and kou both have a favorite twin who they are friends with and a twin who they think is an evil, violent, perverted psychopath, and those twins are swapped between them lol

so i wanted to ask, do you have any thoughts/opinions on mitsubas and kous outsider perspective on the yugi twins? who has what aspects of them right/wrong? could a fight over who the better yugi twin is cause a rift large enough to stop their budding romance?(<hyperbole)

im sorry if this got really long, and these are less concrete questions and more me pondering things and then presenting my half-baked thoughts to you for examination, but i always really enjoy your interpretations of anything tbhk so i thought id do it anyways >.<

Ohhh its fine haha, there are no characters I truly hate (I JUST JOKE...) & I like talking about everything in the manga, as everything has some sort of place in the themes or story! And I do care about all relationships from character to character, even if I might find that character annoying on a personal level HAHA. I like the entire 'voice' of JSHK!!! It's all a part of the beautiful web c:

I would say, Yes, I agree 100%! I've talked about it before myself. I don't see Hanako and Kou as best friends, and I'm not sure what incredible moments of pure friendship people are remembering (probably mostly... ch9?). Hanako both creates distance by using 'kid' (indeed making Kou always out to be more ignorant or childish than him…) and even Kou creates a distance by using only 'Hanako' (no honorifics-- Kou is actually generally quite deferential and polite to people he respects like Nene-chan or Akane.... he is a 'good boy'! When he meets Hanako, of course he thinks he is a monster, so he doesn't use honorifics… but he also doesn't correct this, later. While dropping honorifics can also be a sign of intimacy, that only counts if the other person has given you some kind of permission, or after knowing someone a long time … Hanako never uses honorifics for others himself, because he sees himself as above everyone, and wants to impress distance … and I'm sure because he is 'nanaban-sama'. He only really uses honorifics when menacing Nene or Akane about "Aoi-chan".)

I think in reality, most Hanako and Kou interactions point to something contentious between them waiting to snap, as I've discussed before.

In fact, we now know explicitly that Hanako loves his little brother & sought to save & protect him, so for sure a wedge was driven between Kou and Hanako the moment Kou declared revenge on Tsukasa. Hanako's blank stare, [... ...I see.] should make sense when looked back on! Quietly logging that Kou might become a problem for him, later.

At the very least, you have to imagine he is more loyal to his yorishiro than he is to this ugly kid. If push came to shove.

We see plenty of Hanako resenting Kou.

On top of that … he's competing with Kou for Nene-chan, not only her time & attention but even the right to influence her life or save her. Both in Picture Perfect & Severance, Hanako expresses this VERY directly.

Despite initially being OK with Kou making efforts to save Nene-chan, he completely walks that back in Picture Perfect; his sense of possessiveness and jealousy cannot in fact handle it at all. Sometimes people get attached to a particular older manga scene, and see it as inconsistency or random when that aspect has changed, but honestly, I think it's always a realistic character beat. Hanako once welcomed Kou to try to save Nene-chan, back in volume 6,

but .... as he got closer to Nene-chan, he instead pursues Picture Perfect & then the Severance as his own aggressive, forceful solutions, which no longer factor in Kou as anything but an impotent annoyance. Hanako once, incorrectly, 'thought he wouldn't care', but he in fact does! This is a form of character development I think a lot of people refuse to acknowledge, in Hanako (... maybe people think 'character development' can only mean positive traits or improving, and not something like becoming more aggressive or possessive? <- but being more attached & true to himself IS'positive' development for Hanako. Becoming yandere isn't a bad thing in AidaIro-sensei world </3). Over 20 volumes in, there's no need to cling to perceptions of their dynamic which they have evolved away from.

So.... you have Kou shounen protag shouting "I'll save everyone!" while Hanako is being a yandere like "nobody can ever touch Yashiro's lifespan but ME". This isn't a recipe for best friends.

I remember when ^ this ^ chapter came out, some people were upset/shocked that Kou could still talk easily about destroying Hanako, but I have no idea why. Hanako has only repeatedly proven himself unstable and untrustworthy since those early-manga moments (if a friendship stems from ignorance, what is it worth?). It is only Kou's dedication to Nene-chan that makes him help Hanako in the Far Shore ... Nene-chan is pure of heart so, perhaps so long as she doesn't see him as a lost cause, or as long as Hanako doesn't hurt her, he will try to believe her, and stand by her.

The thing Kou does have going for him, is his faith in Nene-chan to bring out the best in Hanako, to reach his heart. I think ultimately Kou himself isn't sure about the truth lying within Hanako, & he knows it won't be him that draws it out. To him, it could end up that he's completely crazy & dangerous & has to be shot like a rabid dog lol, or that there's something good in there. He's fence-sitting between Teru & Nene's extreme positions.

My favorite very earnest, honest Kou moment among them, is this... when he is approaching Nene-chan, after the meeting with Teru & Akane, during the Severance.

Kou checks in with Nene-chan because he's not sure where SHE'S at with all of this.

The actions he takes in the Far Shore are less "to save Hanako, as his friend" but "to save Hanako, for Nene-chan".

meanwhile, for your second inquiry:

Didn't a fight over Tsukasa already interrupt their relationship? Mitsuba relies on Tsukasa constantly,repeatedly,and this very fact made Kou cry, feeling jealous & inadequate, LOL. Kou's whole complex is that he wants to be trusted & relied on, and Mitsuba instead running to Tsukasa every time he is in trouble, racks up Kou's resentment towards Tsukasa. Isn't it so funny…MULTIPLE ARCS OF THIS!!!!

I would say neither Kou nor Mitsuba really trust the Yugi twins, or understand them, any of them, despite each being allied towards one in some flimsy sense. I think Mitsuba is correct that Hanako is a psycho pervert... uhhhh all of their interactions are SO terrible LOL

and uh....

(^I love this moment SO much ^ completely unnecessary out of pocket Hanako moment!!!!! No reason for you to look so crazy!!! DID YOU HAVE TO CAST SHADE??? lame weak Mitsuba .... haha... I love Hanako ahhh </3 Mitsuba is so pathetic & stupid to him.... such disrespect in PP!)

^ KouMitsu fans should love this protective Mitsuba moment, him staring at Hanako like this while clinging to Kou...

In mmmany ways I guess I don't think Kou or Mitsu are loyal to the Yugi beside them, wouldn't necessarily come to their defense any more than Mitsuba does in the Aquarium chapters (which only really argue a necessary dependency; though I think it's really interesting that in PP, Mitsuba defends his CHOICE to ally with Tsukasa, not WANTING to be seen as only Tsukasa's victim or helpless.)

Kou holds Mitsuba's loyalty to Tsukasa against him, but for some reason as we've seen thus far, Mitsuba does not hold Kou's loyalty to Hanako (or Teru, who tries to kill him) against him. I'd say Mitsuba is actually more humble/gracious & a little more self-aware than Kou-- and also devalues himself, wouldn't ask Kou to give up anything for him, because he is worthless (the entire point of his willing attempt at suicide in the Aquarium chapters). Kou screams & throws lightning around when he feels anything Bad, so more disquiet is expressed at Mitsuba. Kou feels more demanding & holds more uhm.... ambitions for what he 'wants' their relationship to be (one where he is depended on, is Mitsuba's hero). So there is probably more likely to be more conflicts surrounding Tsukasa....

I wonder if Hanako will ever do something so directly terrible that it would cause Kou to loosen his allyship to Nene-chan, and increase his allyship to Mitsuba. I would like that tbh, and it would bolster their dynamic to me, & I could respect Kou's stance more. As it is, it's hard to say much about his loyalty to Mitsuba, which is kinda only simultaneous to his loyalty to Nene-chan .... I would like Kou's fence-sitting about the Hanako situation to finally really hurt Mitsuba maybe, some day. If I had to have an opinion on it.

I wonder what Nene-chan coming to like/defend Tsukasa would do to Kou's stance against Tsukasa? What if everyone but Kou liked the little bugger in some way.... haha. That would be idealistic for me.

I would also find it interesting if Mitsuba actually had to do something meaningful to defend or protect Tsukasa. Curious if the vague ghost memories in Mitsuba's head in the recent chapters will culminate in any kind of reaching out to Tsutsu. Ultimately, is Tsukasa someone who tormented Mitsuba, or someone who saved & comforted him repeatedly? His active mind rejects the concept, but maybe his subconscious would feel otherwise. I dunno. A lot is ambiguous.

A bit of a tangent I guess there... so theorhetical. Well, nobody really likes the Yugi except for each other & Nene-chan.

[ymaohoh]

Yankee Candle Baby - Fic

Eddie wants to buy something nice for Chrissy. Candles are romantic, right?  Oneshot (See at the end for notes)

Word count: 3,730

Chapter: 1/1.

No trigger warnings. No real plot. Just fluff and lust. 

Also on Archive of Our Own.

--

Oh yeah. He was most definitely out of his comfort zone. He was so far out of the zone that he felt like he was standing on a sinking ship surrounded by menacing hungry sharks. 

The mall. The fucking mall. On this perfectly fine Saturday he was here of all places. 

The small town of Hawkins boasted exactly one mall which meant it was unfortunately one of the busier places to be at the weekends, though at this precise time of the day he was thankful to see most of the shoppers were old folks, and noisy kids. His peers (and he used this term very loosely) would likely show up later when it was time to…God knows…go to the movies? Get a burger? Hit the arcade? Whatever it was the average American teenager did at the weekend with their friends or dates. As if he gave a flying fuck. 

No, he hoped he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew. Not because he cared about their opinion - he was Eddie Munson, after all, have you met him? - but because he wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as humanly possible. He was on a secret D&D quest with one singular (but important) purpose...and as soon as he found his holy grail he would race back to his beat-up van and get the hell out of here. 

His leather boots scuffed on the linoleum floor (decorated with some bright nonsense pattern) as he walked forwards reluctantly into what he considered the jaws of hell. Eddie was not typically a morning person and it seemed too early in the day for the overly bright lights that lined the walls or the music blasting out of stores that he could only assume people who hung here found ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’. He ignored the posters that lined the windows advertising whatever shit was for sale inside and kept his eyes open for one specific store. 

Harrington said it would be right at the end of the first floor by the food court…and here…finally. Here it was. The walls to the store were painted bubblegum pink and unsurprisingly the patrons inside were all teenage girls wearing pastels and preppy makeup. 

Hell was apparently the cover of Teen Beat or Just Seventeen, the magazines that he often found rolled up in this van nowadays. 

Eddie looked at the bright and cheery store in question with something akin to repulsion (could he seriously hear Robert Palmer being played on the stereo behind the counter?) before taking a deep breath and plummeting inside before he could change his mind. 

Addicted to love? Apparently he fucking was because it was the only reason he was here. The only reason he’d step inside a capitalist cesspit that was so intense and cheery and uncomfortable to him. The object of said addiction? 

A tiny cheerleader who looked at him like he was her God-damned hero. 

Chrissy was everything to him, even though they’d only technically been a couple  (or ‘going steady’ as she reminded him) for a month now. Honestly? It felt longer. It felt like she’d always been a part of his life from the moment he first laid eyes on her neat strawberry-blonde ponytail. If you asked him if he could remember a time before her he’d draw a blank. He’d had a life without her, sure, but damn if he could remember much about it. He didn’t really want to. She’d woken him up like he was Snow White and she was the prince and life was now all singing cartoon birds, rainbows and sunsets. She was like the fucking sun itself. 

Best of all? She was his. All his. They navigated through the highschool gossip, the stares, the outright rude comments that made him want to ball his fists like how the hell did that loser pull someone like her? Is she crazy? To be fair, it wasn’t a stupid question. He’d asked himself the same thing over and over. They’d laughed when hearing the suggestions of blackmail and magic and he’d fallen a bit in love with her when she admitted there could be magic at play. 

If he thought it would make her smile (and seriously her smile always had the power to totally pierce through his chest like an arrow) then he would most gladly step into whatever hellish landscape needed. He’d move mountains for her. Battle demons. All that cliche romantic stuff. 

Shit, he couldn’t wait to see her smile again. Maybe he was addicted. 

Later on today she was coming to his trailer and they’d be all alone as his uncle was working a night shift at the plant. They’d arranged it so casually yesterday when he drove her home from school - ‘I’ll be there after I finish my chem homework, okay? Maybe six…seven?’ ‘Sure thing. Come round whenever’ - but despite the casual tone he really wanted to do something extra nice for her. He had an idea about making her dinner and setting it up all fancy on the table with the forks and spoons and whatever lined up in the so-called right places. Hell, he’d even bought some wine for them both and Harrington said it was a good bottle (for under $5).

He wouldn’t call Harrington a friend exactly, but he wasn’t a stranger either. He was also one of the only guys he sort of hung around with who actually had experience with women. Eddie would die if any of the kids found out about this (though really they knew how soft Eddie was for Chrissy. It was almost nauseating to be in the same room as them). Harrington has also recommended getting candles. 

Girl’s love them, he’d said confidently. He’d pieced everything together immediately when he ran into Eddie at the store buying fancy healthy ingredients and wine. Eddie was a beer guy usually - wine had to only mean he was trying to impress someone. Trust me, man. There’s a new place in the mall that all the girls talk about. Sounds seriously lame but if you’re going with Chrissy the queen Cunningham then you better up your game. No offense.  

So here he was. Like he said, he’d do anything for Chrissy. Even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone and doing something different. 

Just like when she surprised him last Tuesday by showing up at The Hideout to hear his band for the first time. She’d looked so out of place in her floral dress beside the regulars who stuck to black and ripped denim as a rule, but she’d cheered loudly (his own personal cheerleader) and it made him feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. She really was a fucking gem. 

“Hi. Can I help you?”

A friendly voice came out of nowhere and he looked up to see a salesgirl eyeing him curiously. He couldn’t blame her for looking at him in that way. Next to the other customers he stood out like a sore thumb in his jeans and leather jacket. Still, he had a reputation of bravado to uphold and he wasn’t the kind of shitty person who was rude to staff. Her name badge said ‘Becky’ in a tiny purple font. She looked to be around Chrissy’s age. 

Becky, you’re going to be my best friend right now. 

“You sure can. Candles? Word on the street is you sell them.”

She smiled and led him to the back of the store past all the scented bath crap, the bright cushions with tassels, the art-deco type figurines, and other trendy kitschy items that teenage girls seemed to adore having in their bedrooms. She led him to a counter at the back which was full of the promised candles. Several heads turned in surprise as he moved around but they soon went back to whatever little item that so fascinated them. 

Ah shit. 

“This is the only brand we sell as it’s the most popular. Is there one you have specifically in mind or do you need help picking one out?”

She was assuming he’d been sent here by his girlfriend (or sister or mom) to collect something on their behalf because they were tied up somewhere else. In which case he’d know exactly what it was he needed. How many boyfriends (or brothers or dads) had been in the same pitiful position as he was now? Becky probably spotted it right away which is why she was being so helpful. Golden star for Becky, he thought. 

(He did love the term boyfriend though. Chrissy’s boyfriend. Chrissy’s boyfriend who would run errands for her. Ah, bliss). 

He fixed her with a smile, saying honestly… “I haven’t got a clue, Becky. Honestly. I’m just trying to find something nice for my girlfriend.”

(His girlfriend. His girlfriend Chrissy. The person who braided his favourite bandana into her hair, marking her as such). 

“Well that’s adorable,” Becky commented. The smile she wore now seemed far more genuine. “In that case let me help. What does your girlfriend use them for? Reading? Putting on during a bath? General ambience?”

Dude. Do not think of Chrissy in a bath. Not Chrissy in a bath wet with water and soap and…

“I’m fixing her dinner tonight,” he explained, turning to more pure and wholesome thoughts. “So something for that? I thought it might look…nice?”

This was hell. Absolute hell. 

Still, two girls who were standing by all the bath crap nearby let out little sighs at his stilted phrasing. Becky looked pretty impressed too. Wow, was he nailing this? And was it just him or did his voice get softer when he spoke about anything to do with Chrissy? 

“I’d go with a pillar candle then, for sure. You can place it in the middle of the table,” Becky suggested. She waved towards the right side of the display. “What’s her favourite smell?”

“Uh…well, she likes loads of things…”

And this was the trickiest bit. He didn’t know. Chrissy liked all sorts of smells and tastes. He’d noticed her happy sigh when she smelled the football field after the grass was freshly cut, and she said she liked the smell of ‘new books’. How could they make candles out of that? 

“I see. Well, maybe test some? See which ones remind you the most of her. I need to go and help that customer over there, but I’ll be by the counter if you need anything else, okay?”

“Sure…thanks.”

This wasn’t going to be so quick and easy as he’d hoped. 

Who the hell needed so many candles? Why were there so many sizes? What the hell was Home for Holidays? He managed to stifle a sigh. He focused on the taller candles to the right where Becky had waved, agreeing that they were probably best suited for his purpose (and would last longer - you know, if he and Chrissy forgot all about them in a daze of frantic making out). Wait - was his home at serious risk of burning down tonight? 

It was a herculean effort to drag his mind away from Chrissy’s spectacular lips and back to the mission at hand. Really. He should be awarded some prize for this. 

Right. Maybe focus on scent like Becky said? That was the whole point of candles now the lightbulb made them otherwise obsolete, right? He scanned the labels. What smell would Chrissy like? 

Using his keen powers of logic and intellect (sharpened recently with Chrissy’s tutorage) he noted that the candles seemed to be arranged in a specific order. The ones on the top shelf sounded like flowery ones. 

Lavender? French Lavender? Lilac Blossoms? Lily of the Valley? He held the latter up to his nose but yanked it away quickly. No way. It smelled like something his grandmother would buy. From what very limited information Chrissy offered about her batshit family they seemed to uphold ‘good old-fashioned conservative values’ like most of middle America and Chrissy herself unknowingly still toed some traditional ideals (though she’d hate any comparison to her crusty bitch of a mother). For example, she was the one who wanted to ‘go steady’ and go on ‘dates’. She also made them wait for date three before…well, what she would very cutely describe as ‘PG stuff’ stuff. As for Eddie? Hell, from day one he’d wanted to throw her over his shoulder cave man style and fuck her on the floor of his van (where she’d first gloriously uttered the perfect words ‘yes, Eddie, I like like you too’) . 

Floral smells seemed to go hand in hand with those traditional ideals…yet Chrissy was showing day by day she didn’t want to be held back by that crap any longer. It started with baby steps - hell, dating him a biggie - but who knew what the future held? Chrissie wanted to go to college after graduation and instead of writing ‘baby-maker extraordinaire’ on her applications (as her family wanted) she confessed to wanting more. Maybe teaching? Maybe social work? She had the brains, for sure. His Chrissy was a Fourth of July sparkler, burning bright and sparkling. She could be whatever she wanted to be. She could have both a career and a family if she wanted because she admitted she did like kids (though the idea of Chrissy holding another little Chrissy in her arms made him feel things he never thought possible). With a fond smile he placed the candle back and moved along. 

White fig, Sicilian Lemon, Sea Salt and Sage, Sage and Citrus, Olive and Thyme. The next shelf seemed to hold the candles that smelled like food. Which was bizarre when he really thought about it. He sampled them each. After all, he was buying a candle to go with dinner so didn’t it make sense for it to be food related? 

He quite liked the citrus smell but he smiled when he saw the label for Thyme. He thought about the first time (ha) they’d cooked together at his trailer a few weeks back, back before they were dating. They’d still been at that bullshit flirty-but-not stage, both too scared of admitting their real feelings in case they ruined the tentative and unexpected friendship they both secretly cherished. Dinner hadn’t been anything special - they’d been hanging out watching a movie with accidental (or not in his case) brushing of limbs and secret glances to her legs (she’d been wearing her cheerleader skirt, for crying out loud - he was not made of stone) - when they’d grown hungry and started fixing some pasta. Chrissy had been awkward when it came to food back then and it was something he’d picked up on right away. She would always make excuses not to eat in front of him but her growling stomach had on this occasion betrayed her big time. He’d heated up the pasta and asked her to pass the thyme to stir into the tomato sauce and she’d eventually admitted to not having a clue what that herb was. He’d been so careful to show not even the teensiest amount of surprise in his eyes, and instead patiently showed her how to use it in cooking. It was apparent that Chrissy only ate the same things day after day and it was all bland and unseasoned. 

Less calories, right? 

Since then she’d come along leaps and bounds with her eating, though it was still something present in the back of her mind like a cobweb they couldn’t quite dust away. Though he worried about the future - what would his dumbass do while Chrissy excelled? - one thing he knew for certain was right after graduation (maybe while still wearing those dorky robes) he would bundle Chrissy into his van and drive her far away from the influence of her asshole mother. If she let him he would dedicate his life to feeding and caring for her like she deserved. He hoped she’d be game. 

He looked away from this shelf. They still had some work to do in this area. 

He liked Candy Cane Lane, Cranberry Twist, French Vanilla, Pink Grapefruit…He smelled them appreciatively even though they were very sickly sweet. He liked his coffee black but he knew Chrissy preferred hers laden with sugar and cream (now she actually let herself indulge more). 

Chrissy was sweetness personified in human form really. All sweet smiles and warm skin and caresses. She was popular for her looks, her kindness, her cheery nature. She also had the glorious ability to look past the dark parts of life (and in people) and see the goodness and the light. It was a trait that Eddie simply didn’t have and he marvelled whenever he was privileged enough to see it swell inside her. No matter how many times life seemed to try and beat it out of her, Chrissy was a God-damned angel who got right back on her feet and was unapologetically kind and sweet and dazzling. Eddie knew he would do anything in his power to keep that flame inside of her bright and fucking destroy anyone who tried to take advantage or smother it. 

(Was he an attack dog now? A bull terrier? Why not. She already held his metaphoric leash. Where she went, he went gladly). 

Chrissy had looked at him - him, Eddie, the guy who was all swagger and sarcasm and enjoyed guts and gore. The person who was labelled a freak, an outcast, a junior delinquent - and seen someone she wanted to be with. Her sweet pretty smile seemed to shine on him and say you’re my person and you are good and you are mine.  

Hell, he was going to ravish her later on. 

Strawberry  

Oh yes. We have a winner. This would be the part where quiz show lights went off and heaps of cash fell from the ceiling. 

He didn’t need to sample this candle because he knew right away this was the one which reminded him the most of Chrissy Cunningham. 

Of her fucking perfect little mouth. 

Chrissy had a habit of wearing lipgloss and it tended to be of the fruity variety which was A-OK with him as long as he was the one tasting it. He’d drown himself in buckets of strawberries if it meant he could once more brush his tongue against that soft velvet cupid bow. The rush he got from kissing Chrissy was better than any illicit high, and he knew as soon as he’d sampled just a little bit that it was game over. He was hooked for life. Chrissy was now in his veins - channelling through his body - and keeping his small insignificant heart beating. 

Their first kiss hadn’t been planned but it was fucking spectacular all the same. So were their other firsts. All of them etched into his memory forever. He might casually use the word fucking to describe what they were doing nearly every single night in his trailer, but they both knew it ran much deeper than that. They were hooked on each other. Couldn’t get enough of each other. It made them frantic and careless at times. Though she swore him to secrecy (blushing as she did so because of course good girls would never) he would never tell another soul about the times they’d frantically fucked in the back of his van, or on the bench in the woods where they re-met. They’d even fucked hurriedly behind The Hideout and the image of him lifting Chrissy against the brick wall with her long legs wrapped around his waist, was something he thought about a lot. He remembered how her pretty lips looked when she came for him. 

And before that when they first uttered the word fuck infront of him. They’d been sitting on the lawn with their friends at the time, and everyone had cheered at Chrissy Cunningham saying a bad word. He’d whistled and cheered too, though it was incredibly hot and a base instinct deep down wanted to grab her like he was some savage neanderthal and have her there on the field. He was pretty sure she knew that too because there was a coy twist to her smile. 

Ding ding ding. We’ve found the candle. He picked it up and went to pay Becky. 

“Nice choice,” she said as she popped it in a paper bag. 

“Yeah. Chrissy is…” Chrissy was a lot of things. He settled on, “She tastes like strawberries.”

Becky’s cheeks flamed at his words and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Instead of feeling embarrassed, Eddie felt pretty proud of himself overall. He’d battled the demon that was the mall, found a sidekick of sorts in Becky, and retrieved the holy grail that would please the beautiful princess. Not a bad campaign really. “Chrissy Cunningham, you mean?”

Christ. They knew her here too? He gave her a stiff nod. Was she going to start coming out with the usual crap he heard in the corridors about not being good enough? 

But no. Becky only gave him the bag. “Lucky girl.”

“Nah, I'm the lucky one.”

----

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing for the couple, so apologies for any errors or mishaps with the setting or characteristics. It’s a learning curve. I was not alive during the 80’s so I did rely on a trusty search engine for a few parts. I actually searched for ‘Yankee Candles which are now obsolete’ (apparently they started in the 60’s - who knew?) and the ones listed above are the search results. Pretty sure some of them have come back into circulation though. The store Eddie so bravely ventured into is essentially an 80’s Oliver Bonas. 

I’m also not from the US though I tried using some of the lingo. I think I actually wrote the word mum but it looked so out of place for this world. I can’t bring myself to swap the spell check over though so you still get plenty of u’s in unlikely places (or likely - eh). 

I really enjoyed writing this. It came very naturally. I’ve posted some prompts on my page which I’ll make my way through but give me a shout if you’ve got any requests. 

Toodles x

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

So…I swear I know where I’m headed…I’m just not sure how to get there…(>.<) hopefully you guys enjoy!!

@hobiesgender @hadesdaughter2002 @lirulua

(This is getting hella long, so…)

Masterlist

The speed with which Hobie moved was astounding. One second, Miles had been at his side, arm around him and half turned towards the Prowler as he entered. The next, Miles was behind Hobie fully, the older teen barring Miles from doing anything by slightly crouching down in front of him and throwing his arm out so Miles couldn’t push past him. His scent went from comforting to threatening, and Hobie was letting out a quiet growl that sent shivers down Miles’s spine; he’d never heard an omega make that kind of noise, ever, in his life.

Gwen was at Hobie’s side in the same second, Margo right next to her. Pavitr was on Hobie’s other side, and Miles could feel additional heat behind him, but didn’t turn to see who had joined them in the room. Little hands patted onto his hair, though, which gave him some sort of hint, he guessed.

Either way, he’d never felt so protected before in his life. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with all of this; before, he’d been required to sort of be able to hold his own, being an alpha and all, but having his own team…it actually felt sort of nice. Mostly because he was still so tired, so to hand off responsibility right now sounded great. He inched forward slightly, not enough to hinder Hobie’s movements, but enough to let him know that he was trusting the taller teen to protect him. Hobie’s arm drifted back a bit more, pressing against Miles’s shoulder fully now.

Prowler didn’t move much; his head twisted and tilted, as if counting the amount of people in the room and trying to gauge his chances of winning this encounter. He must have decided that he wasn’t going to come out on top in this fight, because there was a slight click and a small hiss, and then the Prowler was removing his mask to stare at them head on. Miles glanced at everyone out of the corner of his eyes, gauging their reactions; none of them moved or made a face, but the other Miles was looking them all over with a blank look.

“Oy��.” He said finally, tilting his head back. His gaze landed on Miles, finally, and a small smirk tilted his lips. Miles was entirely sure he’d never looked that menacing in his life. Maybe this Miles was supposed to be the alpha; he didn’t have the build for it, no, but he definitely had the aura. “You found friends. And here I was, hoping for a little more…one on one time.”

“Hey, mate,” Hobie said lowly, “back off.” The Prowler shifted his gaze to Hobie, lifting his eyebrow gracefully in a way that reminded Miles of his mother.

“Do you speak for him?” He asked, and Hobie tensed up even more. “Do any of you speak for him?”

“Whatever you have to say to him can be said to us.” Gwen said firmly, Pavitr chiming a loud agreement. Hobie still said nothing, but kept Miles covered from view as best he could. The Prowler seemed to look them all over again, taking in their similar workwear, and sighed heavily.

“Look, I just need — a favor, if you will.” He said bluntly. “From my clone over there.” None of the Spiders moved, Mayday even strangely silent from behind Miles, and the Prowler let out an irritated sigh from his nose.

“Maybe be a bit more specific,” Peter B said from behind Miles, “and we’ll talk about whether or not it’s a favor we can fulfill.” They stood in silence for a moment, the Prowler’s teeth grinding obviously for a moment as he mulled over his decision. “Tick, tock, kid, clock is ticking.”

“Don’t.” The Prowler growled through his clenched teeth, “call me ‘kid’.” There was a chill in the air now, tension racking up higher and higher as he stood alone in the center of the room, hands and jaw clenched, glaring darkly at Peter B.

“Got it.” Peter said weakly, “ix-nay on the kid talk.”

Something about his overall posture made him seem…smaller, somehow. Miles wasn’t quite sure what it was, yet; nevertheless, he found himself extremely interested in what his counterpart had to say, and stepped forward to stand next to Hobie instead of behind him. His chest pressed into Hobie’s arm fully, though he didn’t try to move it, and he met the other boy’s eyes head on.

“What’s your favor?”

[ipsen]

Blank Canvas 11

Read on AO3. Word Count: 3153 Summary: Kaneki has a specific image of himself on the beach. Chapter 10 Chapter 12 Master Post

When Kaneki imagined himself on the summer beach, it went something like this:

The salt on the wind. The tantalizing scent of sizzling meat. Pelts of laughter from the others. A book in his hand, and him peacefully turning the pages beneath an umbrella in a chair.

(He also imagined Takatsuki nearby with the same book. They would pause after every chapter or so and discuss their thoughts, both similar and different. Her ideas burned hot and angry, yet they could be comforting. His shifted like water, yet they could topple buildings. They would blend together into a steam that differentiated between none and became all.)

Or, perhaps, he would be drawing the scenery. The tide, calm or aggressive, lapping at the shore. The smoke from the grill curling into the air. Everyone’s smiling faces as they kicked up the sand with their feet. Stories always needed moments of levity to counterbalance and enhance the pathos. A vacation like this was perfect for ideas. Takatsuki had some lighter moments in her short stories, but she was surprisingly hands-off with him. She never said why, and he’d never tried asking. It was just how things were.

(He should’ve asked Chie for a camera. Oh well.)

Regardless, Kaneki was not sharing thoughts beneath a private umbrella by the shore, nor was he holding a sketchbook and rubbing graphite between his fingers— both things that he would much rather be doing. In reality, his book and his drawing materials were in a bag next to Miza and Takatsuki. He never thought he’d be jealous of his belongings, and to such a high degree, too.

Takatsuki had her hair pulled back into a messy bun. At this point, he was sure it was her favorite style besides having her hair down, given how easy it was to do and how often she did it. As for her swimsuit, she wore a black wetsuit with bright white sleeves underneath a T-shirt and shorts.

He allowed himself to stare for a moment. Even at the beach in the summer sun, she insisted on covering herself head to toe. And again, she never said why, and he never asked. At least this time, she was underneath an umbrella, helping Shiori build sandcastles with Miza.

Kaneki was not so fortunate. He had the privilege of being beneath the sun, no protection, and staring at Naki, Tatara, and Big Bin— all shirtless, all muscular (which would make for a good reference later)— through a network of net. A net-work, his unhelpful brain supplied.

Middle Bin, hands on his hips, sucked in a breath and said what Kaneki was honestly thinking. “I dunno about this, Ayato. I could probably take Naki, but my brother? And Tatara?”

Ayato glared. “You implying I’m not up to the task?”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just, well… Yeah, you’re strong, but let’s face facts: it’s Tatara. Tall, athletic, competitive. He’s the whole package.” He gestured to the man stretching his impressive biceps across large pecs. “I’m all for a friendly match, but a fair one, this is not.”

“Middle Bin.” Ayato folded his arms. “My sister’s the top fighter in her judo class. She has a winning ratio against everyone who's ever dared to fight her.”

Kaneki screwed his eyes shut.

“Her lowest ratio is against this guy.” Ayato jabbed a finger at Kaneki.

There it was. “I-It’s really not that big a deal.” Kaneki waved his hands in the air. “Besides, judo and volleyball are two completely different things—”

“You clowns ready to rumble?!” Naki shouted from the other side, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Nobody here actually plays volleyball, Tree Branch,” Ayato said hastily. “So it comes down to synergy and ability.”

“Sure,” Middle Bin said, “but c’mon. Look at them.”

If Kaneki didn’t know any better, Naki was a large kid on a sugar high. Big Bin stretched his legs (very impressive calves and thighs). Tatara rolled his shoulder, radiating competitive, though friendly, menace.

“Hey.” Ayato, also looking at the opposition, clamped a hand on Kaneki’s shoulder. “Take off your shirt too.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Take off. Your shirt. Too,” Ayato repeated. “We need to intimidate Naki.”

“What does me being shirtless have to do with—”

“Naki might not seem it, but he’s incredibly perceptive— when it comes to someone’s physical strength.” He hastily added the last part. “We need to give him a reason to be nervous. It’ll help us if he messes up early.”

“But that’s only once! Once they see me in action, it’ll fall apart!” Kaneki could already see himself with a face full of sand. Takatsuki might laugh at him. That might not be so bad, making her smile. He’d consider it if the team started losing badly.

Ayato rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’ll be fine. I believe in you or whatever. Just do it.”

“But—!” He inadvertently glanced toward Takatsuki, who was paging through a book. He wondered what book it was. “I, well, I—”

Ayato followed his gaze, saw Takatsuki, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. His voice lowered to a whisper. “You’re hopeless, dude, you know that? You and I both know she wants to see you shirtless.”

“No she does not,” Kaneki hissed back, even though he was curious to know if she did.

“You done yet?” Naki asked impatiently. “If you want Sasaki to take his shirt off, you gotta try harder than that!”

Kaneki saw Takatsuki, for the briefest of moments, flick her gaze up, before immediately going back to reading. Middle Bin approached him and Ayato, grinning. “I think you’ve got your answer, Sasaki,” he whispered. “Go on.”

With a resigned sigh, Kaneki, red as a tomato, discarded his shirt and took his position.

It was a normal body, he told himself. Just average, like anyone else. Sure, when he looked at himself in the mirror, he occasionally saw that scrawny boy again, with bruises across his arms and occasionally his chest, but those were days long gone, and they weren’t coming back. In place of bruises were toned muscles trained by himself and by Touka. With them, he would defend that scrawny boy. He would—

A sudden sputtering noise interrupted his train of thought. Everyone— everyone— turned to see Takatsuki choking on her drink.

“Sorry!” she coughed, waving them off. “Wrong pipe! Fuck—”

Shiono, manning the grill, immediately went over to check on her, while strangely enough, Miza burst out laughing.

Kaneki’s ego, meanwhile, roared from its pit, demanding to feed upon the swelling pride expanding across his mind and threatening to spill over, but he was vigilant. When its claws found purchase on the surface, he beat it back the way a hero slew their enemies. A protagonist of humility. Takatsuki had simply choked on her drink— correlation, not causation.

In public, he cleared his throat. “I-I’m ready!” he said, trying not to scratch where the sun tickled his bare chest.

“Alright,” Yumitsu called from a high chair, playing referee, “First to five points wins!”

“Ready to get crushed?!” Naki shouted.

“We’ll see about that…” Ayato grumbled, rolling his shoulders.

“Let’s have a clean match, guys!” Big Bin grinned.

Kaneki glanced between Ayato and Middle Bin, who looked excited to play. It was almost infectious, and the more he thought about it, the less he minded the idea of winning. It’d make for a good story to tell Hide.

He wondered if Takatsuki would be impressed if he won.

Alright, yeah.

She didn’t seem the type, but on the off chance she was, well—

Yeah. Let’s try to win.

It wouldn’t hurt.

Win…

—

“Left, left, left!”

“Okay, a bit more forward! Oh, back back back!!”

“S-Sasaki— Pffhahahaha!!— Wrong way, dude!”

Humiliation was not the right word to describe how Kaneki, stumbling dizzily about in a blindfold (with his shirt back on) for watermelon splitting, felt at the moment, but it would have to do.

Honestly, he should have expected the loss; Big Bin, Naki, and Tatara had far more synergy and experience with each other than he, Ayato, and Middle Bin did. It wasn’t a slaughterfest, but it wasn’t exactly close, either. There were a thousand ways he could have improved, but the benefit of hindsight was forever cursed to come after the fact.

“Go, go!”

“It’s right in front of you!!”

Oh, thank goodness. He swung down with all his might, and felt the bat sink into a fleshy material. A direct hit.

“Alright!” he heard Ayato shout. “A rematch, like you said, Naki! One-on-one if Tree Branch got a hit!”

“Woo!” came Naki’s response. “Let’s do it!”

Kaneki was just grateful he didn’t have to play again.

The beach didn’t last forever; the sky turned orange, people got tired, and the fireworks show was soon on the horizon. It would begin early in the evening, so any time in the hot springs was reserved for after.

On the large porch at the resort overlooking the city, a few tables and chairs were set up. Naki and Shiono had cooked up a huge feast for all to enjoy. Kaneki stood in the background, letting everyone take what they wanted before going for something himself. He wasn’t a very picky eater, anyway; sure, he had his favorites, but he’d make do with the leftovers. Besides, he technically wasn’t even supposed to be here. By that logic, any food for him should be leftovers.

Alas, a storm of energy with hair like grass beneath the sunrise had other plans. She was the first to grab two(?!) plates and fill them up, but instead of sitting down and getting started, she marched straight up to him and held one of them out.

“You look hungry,” Takatsuki commented. “Go on, take it.”

“Er…” He wasn’t sure how to respond. “I-I can get the food myself; you can—”

“Take it,” she repeated, more insistent this time. “Don’t tell me you’re turning down your favorites!”

He took a second look at the plate: a few corn cobs, some spears of asparagus, two slices of tomatoes, a glob of mashed potatoes, and a large slab of a familiar meat.

(It was just a little begging…)

Across their culinary adventures the past few months, he supposed he had gravitated towards similar things throughout. However, that wasn’t because he was picky; he just had never really been one for adventuring beyond his current palette, which was more than enough for a healthy diet.

He hadn’t realized that his… acquaintance in those adventures was actually looking at his plate while she sampled as much of the menu as she could in a single order.

Kaneki stared at it. “You…?”

“I am an author.” She shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

It would be rude to turn her down after all the trouble. “Thank you…”

She smiled. “Enjoy the show, Haise.”

“Um, actually, I—” he began, but when he looked up, he saw her mane of hair disappear back indoors.

Before he could follow, someone bumped against his shoulder and stopped him.

“Sh-Shiono!” he stammered.

“Hey, Sasaki!” Shiono had a fresh plate of food and a drink. “Talk with me a bit?”

There was an unidentifiable edge to his voice that made Kaneki nervous, and as Shiono led him far, far away from the others (or as far from them as they could be on a porch, even if it was a large one), the feeling only worsened.

What could Shiono possibly want to talk about? All sorts of scenarios ran through Kaneki’s head. Was the script not up to par? Was his art just that disgusting to behold? Was he being interrogated for misconduct in the workplace? Ami never really liked him; had she filed a report? Had he overstepped his boundaries?! Was this vacation all just a ruse to let him down gently?! That was… kinda cruel, honestly, but at least he had a good meal to eat when—

“Are you in love with Sen, or am I misreading things?”

What.

What was once a growing fear turned into abject horror and embarrassment. Kaneki would rather get fired a thousand times over than hear that question. “W-Well, I— I don’t—” He scratched wildly at his face as it itched with heat. “I wouldn’t say— I-I mean, that is to say that I, um, well—”

Shiono laughed. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t mean to embarrass you, but it seems like the others’… efforts to get you two to say something isn’t working, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

‘Efforts’? “Efforts?”

His brow furrowed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Your tickets to the play, the room arrangements— Ever since it came out that you were getting invited here, Miza and the Bins’ve been bending over backwards to get you alone and get either one of you to say something to the other.”

“But I don’t— I mean, she doesn’t even—” Kaneki sputtered. ‘Say something’? Really? And ruin all these months of hard work?

Shiono rolled his eyes. “Sasaki, I’m gonna be straight with you— Sen’s been head over heels for you for a while now.”

If Kaneki had had the stomach to eat during this conversation, he would have spit it out over the edge of the handrail.

“I’ve been raising the kiddo for thirteen years now.” The weight of that statement made even Shiono shiver slightly. “I know when she likes someone.”

Kaneki latched onto that first statement. “W-Wait a minute, you’re her—?”

“Father, more or less. Second adoptive one, to be more specific.” Shiono took a drink. “Her first one died, and she spent about a year in an orphanage before I entered the picture. As for her biological father, he’s alive, but, well… Yeah.”

Kaneki, relaxing, took a thoughtful bite of some meat, chewing to focus and digest the new information. Noroi Takatsuki had adopted Takatsuki, then died in the incident with Kasuka Mado. Takatsuki herself was involved with that event, but instead of having her record stained, she was sent to an orphanage, and Donato took the fall due to an unknown party.

“As you’ve probably figured, I met Sen when she was fifteen.” Shiono swirled his drink in his cup. “She wanted to submit what would become Dear Kafka, and I was the one she talked to for that. She was wearing unwashed clothes and shoes stuffed with napkins to fit her feet. She kinda smelled too, but don’t tell her I said that.

“I remember thinking, ‘Poor kid.’ She had that look in her eyes, the kind that told me that she’d lost something precious, and now she only had herself to count on. Most people would say, ‘she’s so mature’, but what kinda kid is self-reliant at fifteen? It’s messed up, is what it is.”

Kaneki happened to glance at Ayato, who was cackling at a joke Yumitsu had cracked. Ayato and Touka hadn’t always gotten along, and she once confessed that he’d run away from the orphanage they were at once, after an argument neither remembered anymore. He didn’t get far— he was only twelve— but Kaneki shuddered to think of what would have happened if he’d actually left.

Takatsuki must have experienced something similar. All alone, with no one who understood, except for the halls of her own mind.

“She was so nervous too, rubbing her wrists and glancing around like she might get attacked any second now. I didn’t think it then, but that was probably when I decided I’d adopt her.” Shiono glanced out at the ocean, toward that distant memory.

It must have meant so much to her, Kaneki thought. Someone who brushed aside the bad stuff and embraced her, even if they didn’t really understand. He felt the same about Hide, Touka, and everyone at Apes & Dobers. So many friends and experiences, even if their pieces didn’t quite fill the hole.

“That’s all to say,” Shiono took a swig of his drink, “kiddo’s had it rough. She’s gotten better, yeah, but part of that pain’s never really gone away, even though I’ve tried my best. Unfortunately, there are some things I can never fix, both as her friend and as her father.”

Kaneki’s brow furrowed. Where was he going with this?

“This’s a bit weird to ask, Sasaki, but… Be good to her. Can you do that for me?”

He tilted his head. “Er, sure? I, um, wasn’t planning to be… bad to her…?”

Shiono blinked, then burst into laughter. Full peals, sort of like Takatsuki. He really was her father.

“W-What?”

“Nothing, nothing! You’re a funny guy, Sasaki.” He put his drink down. “I can see why Sen laughs and smiles far more with you.”

She did? “Sh-She does?”

“You’re oblivious to your influence, huh? You’re just like Sen. Maybe that’s why she likes you so much.” Shiono shrugged with a smile. “She doesn’t have to explain why to you; you just get it.” 

“But I—” I’m just her artist, her coworker, he wanted to say. An acquaintance of a few months. And even then, there are others far more qualified than— “Me?”

“Is it so hard to believe? Sen wouldn’t keep you around if she didn’t like you; she’d toss you out to the wolves instead.”

Kaneki chuckled at that. “Hopefully not literally.”

“Hopefully not literally,” Shiono repeated, then pat Kaneki’s shoulder. “Look, I’m not saying that you’re the perfect partner for her or anything, but I am saying that she picked you for a reason. And that reason’s why she’s brought you to so many things. I mean, who drags a mere coworker to Cochlea in the middle of the night, right?”

Kaneki’s laugh was a bit more nervous this time. When viewed from that angle, it made sense; Takatsuki trusted him to a very high degree to not say anything regarding that. A weirdly high degree, too.

“So I’ll ask again: are you in love with her?”

Kaneki looked away. “I…”

He could lie and say no, and Shiono no doubt would let the whole ordeal go. Hell, he might even tell the others for Kaneki, save him the awkwardness of apparently disappointing everyone. Things would continue as they had been, and eventually, the book would be completed and Kaneki would part ways with Shiono and Takatsuki both. The world would keep turning, wholly oblivious to the whole ordeal.

Or… he could say yes. Tell the truth. Say everything he’d been wanting to say for months. Cast his pride aside and make that faithless leap across the abyss. Would he fall into its depths, or would he make it to the other side? There was no way of knowing until he tried.

Kaneki grabbed the chains shackling himself down, then slowly undid them. It manifested in a small, “Yes.”

Shiono smiled. “Well, don’t tell me, then.” He made a shooing motion, chuckling. “Go on.”

Kaneki, with a bit of weight lifted from his shoulders, nodded, and cleaned his plate.

[djemsostylist]

Having recently watched the Star Wars films again, I decided to also tackle the books again as well. I've read most of what Star Wars has to offer, but there are a few I haven't made it to and a few I feel like I don't appreciate the way I should.

I started with the novelization of The Phantom Menace by Terry Brooks, and I'll be honest when I say I didn't expect much. TPM as a movie was boring, and I figured the novel wouldn't be much better.

I was wrong. I was so wrong, in fact, that I'd say I highly recommend it. See, my chief problem with the prequels is a two-fold one: 1, George wrote a truly horrible story, and 2, George hired truly atrocious actors to be the leads. Ewan McGregor not withstanding, the actors he hired were barely able to handle the script he gave them, let alone bring something more to the characters.

Anakin's fall should be slow, steady, bit by bit and then all at once. He should be Anakin, of course, but he should also be Vader. Because that is the thing about Anakin--he was always Vader. He didn't have a nightmare once and wake up Vader, after having been a good man his whole life. Vader's selfishness, his single-mindedness, his fear, his fixations, his rage, and his desire for power and control were always a part of Anakin, as much as his supernatural ability with flying and machines and his visions of the future. Anakin could be kind, he could be selfless, he could be decent, but all of these aspects of Anakin were always entwined with Vader. And as time goes on, it becomes harder and harder to hide the Vader, to pull on Anakin's face and plaster on Anakin's smile and pretend that the fire that rages always is banked, is controlled, is not waiting to consume. So when he takes those final steps, when he kills Mace and kneels before Palpatine and takes the Temple, we should have seen it coming. Not because we've seen the original trilogy and we know that Anakin is Vader, but because we've seen the Vader in him all along. Because this was always how his story was going to end. He was always going to be Vader, forever.

The problem is that the movies don't really give us that, particularly in TPM. I think George sort of wanted to show this kid's super innocence, and it came across as grossly naïve and also almost cloyingly sweet. The Anakin we get in TPM has no hints of Vader, no darkness, no intensity, none of the vices which will plague him for a lifetime. He's sweet and innocent and pure, in a way that's almost annoying its earnestness. He has little to no agency in his own story--he isn't even a POV character. And Padme, who will one day become his future wife, views him with the same sort of feeling one would expect for a 14 year old girl and a precocious little moppet--she thinks he's cute and childish and that's about it. She likes him certainly, but so does everyone he encounters, because he's a caricature of childhood innocence and naivete. There's nothing to him.

Anakin in the novel comes across as older--I'd put him at 12-13, to the movie's 9. (The book does state that he is 9, but I teach 9 year olds--even an incredibly precocious one would not come across like Anakin). In this Anakin, we see shades of Vader. He lives in a constant state of hyper awareness of both his abilities (which he is fully aware of, unlike in the movie where he seems not to notice his skills at all), and he wrestles constantly with a gnawing fear of losing everything he loves. This Anakin is quiet and thoughtful, and though kind and outgoing, is also prone to fits of rage or moments of utter stillness. When Watto is screaming in his face, Anakin sort of checks out, blank faced and staring until Watto exhausts himself and forgets to scream, ostensibly because he knows that arguing is useless, but also because, I think, he isn't sure what will happen if he fights back. He dreams of a life in the stars, but he can't see a future without his mother. He knows that he has abilities others don't, and he knows enough to keep them to himself. He saves the life of a Tusken Raider in the desert because he feels its pain, but he also beats the shit out of a teenage Rodian (a young Greedo as it would happen) because he is mourning the loss of Padme.

And speaking of Padme, their relationship in this is intense. In the movie, Padme pays about as much attention to him as you would expect, given their age difference. It would be weird for her to be as immediately smitten and attached, and likewise Anakin's interest in her seems childish and unremarkable.

In the story, their connection and mutual interest is instant and intense. From the moment they first meet in the junkshop, they are almost always together, and Padme is as fascinated and drawn to him as he is to her. (Which, coincidentally, fits much better if she is 14 and he is only a little younger). They spend all their time together, and are often lost in deep conversations. Anakin can't stop thinking about her, and she doesn't seem to mind when he holds her hand or tells her that he is going to marry her someday (with a flash of foresight). He sees visions of her in his future, leading an army, older and sadder. She seems to have difficulty leaving him (when she climbs on the Eopi to leave, she doesn't make eye contact and refuses to look back) and Anakin is devastated by her loss. He ends up beating the shit out of Greedo for an unrelated offence, and doesn't even seem to realize what he's doing until Qui-Gon shows up to pull him off.

Later, when he finds out the truth about Padme being the queen, she goes out of her way to find him and make sure he still feels the same about her as he did before. She promises him, on the ship when he gives her the Japor carving, that she will never forget him, the way way she feels about him--even makes a callback to his assertion that they will one day be married.

And this works. It works in a way the movie doesn't, because you get these two people who are both more mature, more grounded than anyone else their age, and they immediately share this intense, overwhelming bond that sort of takes both of them by surprise. It makes sense then, why, meeting years later, they are just as instantly drawn back together.

(In my version of the Clones, with an exaggerated timeline, Anakin and Padme would be on Naboo for close to a year, carefully working to bring about an end to the blockade and invasion, Anakin being trained by Qui-Gon on the dl, and they'd grow ever closer. I'd probably even have their first kiss maybe, during this time--she'd be almost 15, he'd be almost 14 (assuming he's almost 13 when we meet him), and this would enforce their bond.)

My point it, that in the novel, Anakin is intense, smart, deeply connected to the Force, and already aware of his abilities, though not in control of them or truly aware of what they mean. He is kind and thoughtful, but he is also prone to rage and fear, and he struggles with both. He is already terrified of loss, and he struggle with it throughout the novel itself. He also has the intensity that Vader has, the fixation--he's obsessed with Padme from the moment he meets her, and though his obsession is reciprocated, it doesn't make it any less intense. The Jedi, too, are concerned about his rage issues in a way the movie doesn't make clear--so much so that in the book they not only defer making a decision about his training on Coruscant, they expressly forbid Qui-Gon from training him. It's the rage as well as the fear that give them pause.

Overall, the novel sets up an Anakin (and a Padme really) that are believable for the people who they will become. There is an obvious through-line from Anakin to Vader, and it makes for a more cohesive character overall. And having Padme be just as drawn to him from the beginning also helps--their relationship has never been sane or healthy, and that is the point. Two early teens sharing an intense bond that only strengthens with time makes a lot more sense than randomly falling in love with the weird teenager you first met a cherubic child.

I'm curious to pay attention the through lines of this as the novels go on. Up next: Rogue Planet and then The Approaching Storm. (collecting all the novels year ago really was a stroke of genius).

[describe-things]

[Video description: A clip from the anime, "The Daily Lives of High School Boys" showing three school girls walking down the street.

Two of them are exciting looking at a magazine together, exclaiming, "This looks super delicious!". One of them has brown hair, the other has black hair in ponytails. The third is off to the side, her arms crossed as she frowns. She has messy black hair.

The girl off to the side suddenly said, in a quiet, thoughtful voice, "I've always wondered…"

"Hm?" The other two look at her curiously as she pauses, before continuing, "Which one of us is the strongest?"

The girl with the brown hair immediately looks nervous, but the girl with the pigtails gets a dark expression and smirks, saying, "Interesting. Lets find out now." They stop, and begin putting down their bags.

The brown haired girl, says frantically, "H-hey, wait! What are you saying?"

"We can't pretend to get along forever." The girl with the messy hair says matter-of-factly. The girl with the pigtails begins doing squats and stretches in preparation for a fight.

"What are you unhappy with?" The brown haired girl desperately asks, then lifts her hands, saying, "Lets not do this. It's pointless. It doesn't matter who the strongest is!"

The girl with the messy hair says to the girl with the pigtails, calmly ignoring the girl with the brown hair, "You seem pretty relaxed, monster."

"You're scared of losing, huh?" The girl with the pigtails responds, in the middle of stretching.

The brown haired girl sighs loudly in worry.

"So, what are the rules?" the girl with the pigtails asks as she stands up from her stretching.

"Let's see." The first girl says.

The girl with the brown hair makes a confused sound, causing both her friends to turn and look at her.

"Hey, we're going to be fighting, right?" She asks, face innocently blank, "Why do we need rules?"

"Eh?" Both her friends say in confusion. A moment passes where they simply stare at her in silence, before they gape in horrified realization, the background turning dark green to show their fear. The music turns like something from a horror movie.

A voiceover appears, showing the girl with the brown hair from behind against the dark green background, as one of the other girls explains, "In order to avoid the worst possible outcome, rules are established when fighting. This madwoman could not understand that concept." The camera zooms out to show her friends standing in front of her with terrified expressions, then shifts to behind them, showing her now with glowing eyes and a menacing purple aura which rises up and forms a giant monster with a threatening face, laughing evilly.

The camera shows the terrified expressions of her two friends as the voicover continues, "The meaning of 'conflict' is fundamentally different for her than for us, who learned it in a sporting sense from martial arts.".

The girl with the messy hair gasps, and the background returns to normal as she frantically, in a high-pitched, nervous voice, says, "Just kidding, it was all a joke!" while waving her arms. The girl with the pigtails throws her hands out, saying, "Don't take it so seriously!"

The girl with the brown hair laughs a little, and says innocently, "Oh, so it was a joke."

The music turns nightmareish again as the voicover continues, describing her next action, "Saying this, she casually threw aside a large rock."

The rock tumbles to the ground in slow motion and lands on the ground, the background dark purple to convey the horror.

End video description.]

Posting this iconic piece of media that I just NEVER found online isolated except in an archived reddit thread

[yanderenightmare]

could we get yandere poly hero bakugo x villain deku x childhood friend??? but make them both kinda off the deep end :) like that sounds so spicy o-o

poly yandere ! BAKUDEKU x childhood friend

goodiebag WARNINGS: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, gangbang, double-d, slut-shaming, guilt-tripping, degradation, condescension, patronisation

TIP-JAR

REUNION

"You? A hero?!"

Ash blonde locks shook with the snide laughter of whom they belonged to. His snickering going well with the crackling in his palms.

Izuku was on the ground again. Dirt the least of his worries with the burns running up his forearm.

"Don't kid yourself! You'll never be more than useless wimp, Deku!" The red-eyed boy jeered. Looking down into the pitiful blank puddles of terrified green at his feet.

Grinning like a maniac. Before something came to block the view.

He stood like a demon menace in front of her, where she'd once again placed herself between the two. As quirkless as the boy on the ground, but not as willing to give in to bullies. Despite said bully technically being a friend.

Her face twisted. Eyes hardening as she stared up at the boy who'd only recently gained some height on her.

"You want to shit all over our dreams?!" She yelled. Her pointer finger pushed into the skull on his black T-shirt. Making his expression drop before altering into one of surprise of her sudden bravery.

Until once again shifting to one of offence.

"Hah?"

He rose a brow. Ready to shove another pathetic weakling who was out to play hero to the ground. On their knees where they belonged.

"What about you?! Huh?!" She yelled before he had the chance. "A hero?!"

If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was making fun of him.

But that simply couldn't be.

"Next Allmight?!" She posed sarcastically.

And although he'd never heard anyone speak to him like it ever before, he was positive he didn't like her tone.

He opened his mouth to put her in her place, but she beat him to it once again.

"Are you delusional?!"

Her voice just kept rising. Kept going above whatever comment he was trying to push between her insults.

"People are better off left with villains than with you coming to the rescue!"

Katsuki went quiet at that. Drawn back as though pushed.

His eyes round as he looked down at the girl who seemed to hold more fire in her eyes than him. Yelling at him. Still with that annoying squealing girly voice she had. Though now sharpened like a dagger and thrown at him as though she actually had no fear of him.

"I'd take a villain over a monster any day!"

Deku had remained quiet. Though reached out a hurt arm to pull on her skirt now.

"Hey... stop-" His voice was weak.

Weak and pathetic.

Just like the rest of him. No mind to him being quirkless.

"No! Shut up! You always defend him!"

She snapped around. Her finger now pointed at the freckle-faced crybaby still in the spot Kachan had pushed him to.

He hadn't even dared get up or say anything. Always leaving her to do his dirty work. Never defending himself. Just allowing Kachan to push them around like he was some King and they were his servants.

His jesters.

A spoiled brat's toys he could break whenever he felt like.

"He's right. You are useless." She spit.

A look of disgust on her face as she pulled her skirt to herself. Ripping it loose from his weak grip.

Letting him drop palms first in the sand.

"Well, I'm done protecting you."

Whipping around, she faced the other boy.

His ash-blond main blowing in the wind as he stood still and stunned.

"And I'm done forgiving you!"

She wouldn't allow the tears to fall. She wouldn't allow herself to be weak anymore.

She was done.

"I'm done!"

She stepped off.

Leaving the two.

Hoping she wouldn't trip in the sandlot dust of the playground as she stomped off. Thinking it would be too embarrassing if she were to make such a statement only to fall on her face.

But she held her head high. Refraining from looking back at the two who she hoped stared after her.

Hoping this would be a lesson for them. Hoping they'd grow up for a change.

Despite the three of them being just ten.

"I'm done with both of you!"

~~~

Turns out... growing up wasn't all it was cracked up to be...

She drunk way too much last night.

She knew she should have told Rebecca to go clubbing on her own. But, the rent was just around the corner and that promoter check she gets for simply looking pretty and laughing at rich guys bad jokes was way too tempting to decline.

At least no guy had groped her this time. Or at least she'd gotten too drunk to remember it if it did.

Besides, with the way Rebecca dresses she couldn't allow her to go alone.

While she'd be left safely at home in her fuzzy socks. Her friend's silly judgment and short dress would allow her to fall prey to some rich sleaze who vouched for the pull-out method.

She’s a good friend for looking out for her, she thought and smiled as she drooled into her pillow and giggled just a bit before the pins and needles tugged at her scalp.

She's in the least allowed to pat herself on the back by sleeping in.

And by sleeping in, she means sleeping all day until midnight the day after.

She'd probably sleep even longer until the next morning. Headache and all still lingering like a slight frizz around her crown.

So much so she winced once she heard the noise she guessed must have come from one of her neighbour flat-mates or from up above her.

A sound just loud enough to wake her up.

Groaning while peeling her eyes open. Her hand slapped about the bedside table to try and find her phone, though coming at a loss at the same time feeling something cold poke her back where she twisted in the sheets.

Bending her arm, she awkwardly dragged the phone she'd been sleeping on from beneath her. Eyes squinting in a grimace as the screen lit up in her face. Way too bright white numbers reading double-o-something.

"Half a day of sleep don't do me justice..." She whined groggily as she slipped out from bed with a groan.

Club-dress still on from last night. Short and black, loose-fit but revealing, now sticking to her dried-sweaty skin.

She placed her phone on the dresser and pushed her finger-pads into her temples. Grimacing at the sting while she sighed out a pained little whimper.

"Fuck- Last time I'm doin' this... Too old for this bullshit."

Head only buzzing more with each step she took on the cold faux-wood floor as she slowly made her way to the kitchen.

Passing the full-length mirror she'd placed in the hallway. She stopped with a dead look in her eyes at the sight of herself.

Smeared mascara and rubbed smokey-eye looking like the mask of a raccoon. Nose red and lips dry and pale with their paint-coat long gone. Her hair a tangled birds-nest of regrets she'd already forgotten in her heavy hangover.

"Look like trash, smell like trash, feel like trash..."

She swallowed. Rubbing her sore neck with eyes closed.

"Last time, Becky, I swear... this is getting too tragic."

She dismissed her reflection with raking her fingers through her hair. Moving forward towards the cupboards.

"Oh yeah? What other jobs can a quirkless nobody pursue, buttercup?"

It seemed she wasn't done talking to herself. Though her voice was altered to mimic what one could only guess was supposed to replicate Rebecca.

"I don't know... like- a waitress or something..." She argued against herself.

Choosing her favourite out of the mismatched glasses from the shelf. Before flipping the sink and turning the handle towards cold.

"A waitress? That's practically the same job you have now, Bottle-girl. Just with less than half the pay." She rebutted again. Her voice harsh and pitchy, nagging at herself.

Slipping the spaghetti-straps to her dress off. She let it slink to the floor while waiting for the splashing water to run cold.

Stepping out of the black article she stood freely with no bra and no underwear while filling up her glass.

"You should use your pretty face for what's it's worth while you still can."

She chugged it hastily. Droplets running down her nude chest in the dim moonlight coming in through her open naked windows, in an apartment she assumed was occupied by her and her alone.

"You should shut the fuck up and cry about it in the shower." She dismissed the conversation and wiped her mouth with her forearm.

Placing her glass on the counter with a passive-aggressive clank. She left her dress on the floor and made her way over to her tiny but doable bathroom.

The vent had broken down a while back, and she hadn't the fifty bucks to waste on repairing it or buying a new one when she could simply shower with the door open instead.

It didn't matter much when she lived alone anyway. She just needed to make sure she didn't get a mold crisis on her hands as she really couldn't afford anything but the rent on her shaky salary.

Rebecca had told her to do more private deals in pent-house suites instead of booths at the club. But last time she'd agreed to something like that she'd been roofied and guided to a gold-frame bed with Egyptian-cotton sheets.

All of which wasn't even the worse part as when she'd woken up, thankfully with her dress still on, she'd found the guy she'd been with burnt to a near unrecognisable pulp in the bathroom.

The cops had told her he was part of a drug-ring and that his death was most probably due to those shady activities. Though, not without mentioning that the method he'd been killed with seemed highly strange and cruel for an unimportant no-name thug.

She never failed to think about it each time she entered her own bathroom. Even though the tiles were shoddy and the lights were flickering like fireflies. Miles away from the modern architecture she'd witnessed stain with red on that day.

She shook her head as the water came pouring down upon her head.

Cold like always. Colder the longer she showered.

The hot-water bill another thing she couldn't be fucked to pay.

But she'd grown rather used to it now. Taking her time as she rubbed shampoo into her scalp. Rather thinking it was for the best as hot water would only fog on the walls and give her that rot problem she'd been fearing now that the bathroom fan had kicked the can.

But used to it or not, she didn't bother showering too long.

Getting out once her skin started going purple.

Padding herself dry with a rather scratchy cheap towel. She contemplated investing in something better than dollar-store laundry detergent and maybe some fabric softener. Before ridding herself of the ridiculous thought.

Better save the money.

Drying her hair. She looked down at her nipples and how they strutted like hardened little peaks searching for warmth. Thinking of how rich guys really liked sucking on them when they were like that. How they say they can tell she's going to be a good girl for them for being so sensitive under their hands.

Her eyes stung just a bit. But she stopped herself by digging her nails into her palms.

It would be too silly to cry about it.

The buzzard ringing through the apartment had her dropping the thought completely.

Confusion taking its place instead. Then the slight split-second burn in her chest at the thought of it being the landlord.

Though ridding herself of the notion once reminded what time of day it was.

"It's like- the middle of the night- Who the fuck-" She mumbled.

Leaving the bathroom and padding over to the door-phone. Picking it up.

"Hello?"

She had a fair idea of whom to expect.

Only people who knew where she lived where the girls. And she knew all too well how they weren't shy of dropping by late at night for a place to crash if their sleeping arrangements had failed to fall through.

"Hey... it's me."

But that wasn't a girl.

Her brows scrunched. Ears flexing upon the familiar boyish voice hiding in the pitch of the man he must have grown into.

Kachan?

"Bakugou?" She questioned. Her own voice barely reaching above a whisper.

"You' seen the news?" He asked shortly. Dismissing her question in favour of cutting right to the chase, though answering it all the same.

Her head buzzing from a number of things as she tried shaking herself out of the surprise of having him at her door. Before answering.

"Uhm- nah- I- uhm- just woke up-" She spoke into the phone before biting her lip in an effort to stop the words from further humiliating her.

She took a breath. Eyes squished closed while telling herself that there were plenty of reasons to sleep all day and wake up at the witching hour other than being a tragic loser who goes nightclubbing on weekdays.

She didn't need this in the midst of a hangover. She thought with an internal groan as she pinched her brow. Continuing to speak after a beat as he didn’t offer her miserable utterance any reply.

"So- uhm- why are you- what do you want?" She posed. Listening to him breathing.

Before gruff breath turned into words.

"Deku's out of prison."

The mention of his name had her wake up.

"He escaped Tartarus..."

She tensed. Gripping the phone a bit tighter. Eyes wide as she waited.

"I just-" The man paused for a moment. "I need to know you're safe."

Her brows scrunched and her eyes narrowed. A dull frown on her lips as she sobered up some more at the bitter taste his words left in her mouth.

Of course.

Good ol' Kachan and his superiority-complex and his inferiority-complex and his hero-complex and all the other bullshit cooped up in his entitled mind that makes him feel he has the right to be at her door in the middle of the night instead of following the proper protocol and alerting the right authority that she might be in potential danger because their shared childhood friend is a murderous maniac and he's just managed a prison-break.

"I know you don't want to see me, but-" He tried again upon the complete silence she offered.

"Ugh-" She sighed with a rust.

Rolling her eyes while pushing the other button beneath the speaker. Beeping him in.

"It's open. Third floor, apartment thirty-five. The elevator's broken. Try not to wake anyone on the way up."

Bakugou listened to her groggy voice feed him the information through the shitty intercom. Before grabbing and pulling the door open.

Finding the stairs. He began climbing each step as silently as his heavy combat boots would allow. Knocking once he reached her number.

She opened on the first meeting of his knuckles on the wood.

Still only wrapped in a towel. She peeked through the gap in the door the metal chain-lock separating them allowed. A chain they both knew he could easily blow through.

"Hey..." He spoke first.

"What makes you think he's coming here?" She jumped straight to it.

"A hunch." He answered. Frustrated with the conversation being held while he was still outside. Though not enough to invite himself in.

"A hunch?" She questioned. Obvious signs of irritation in her tone.

"You went to see him?" He asked. Once again ignoring her in favour of posing his own questions.

Interrogating her like usual.

And despite wanting to tell him that he had nothing to do with her life. Quite like she'd done the past years when he'd only been brazen enough to send text messages.

She paused instead. Looking away with pursed lips.

"He requested. I excepted." She put it simply, but couldn't refrain from biting her lip upon the memory of seeing him on the news.

His once look of childlike-wonder twisted into something crazed and maniacal alongside disturbing bloodied mangled mockeries of the human form.

"I- uhm...” She took another pause. “Needed to see..."

"Did you?" Bakugou asked without much hesitation.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and met his gaze again.

"I did..."

There was a pause.

"You think it's my fault, don't you?" The blonde on the other side of the door suddenly accused.

Though, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to the girl.

She just scoffed. Sighing as she rolled her eyes.

Typical Kachan to make it all about himself.

Throwing her head back. She took a moment before unlocking the door with another sigh. Leaving it open for the ash-blonde to enter.

Taking only a small moment to regret it once noticing the size of him.

He wasn't a meter tall brat on the playground anymore.

She left the door open for him. Turning around after one last glance at how much bigger he was in real life than what he looked on TV.

"I was the one that abandoned him..." She muttered. Surprising the blonde male.

Walking to another room out of his sight as he ducked to fit in through the doorframe.

He heard her opening a drawer then closing it. Before she came back out again in a large white tee nearly reaching farther down her thighs than the short pyjama bottoms she'd slipped on too.

It made him uncomfortable when the thought of it belonging to some guy crossed his mind. Before he got distracted by the notice of her not wearing any bra.

Probably no underwear either. Just a pair of pink bunny-slippers.

"Truth is, Bakugou, he's neither of our responsibility..." She told him absentmindedly. The same thing she'd been telling herself over the several weeks that had passed since she visited him at the prison.

Her hands busy rubbing her hair with the towel she'd thrown over her head.

"There was always something wrong with him-"

"Bakugou, huh?" He interrupted.

"Hm?" She tipped her head at him in askance after having thrown her towel over her bathroom door.

"I don't think I've ever heard you use that name." He said as he stepped out of his large black boots.

Indicating he planned on staying a little while before leaving again.

"We haven't spoken properly in... what?" She calculated. "Like- fifteen years, is it now?"

She seemed to be counting fingers.

"That time outweighs the time we were..." She hesitated. Looking at the tall blonde.

The word friend only barely came to mind. Along with the word bully and jerk and bastard and all other synonyms.

"Whatever..." She decided was a good a word as any.

"Stone cold, as always, aren't yah?" He observed.

"Mh." She murmured. Not offering more of a response. "Water?"

She picked up her glass from earlier. Turning the tap and filling it up.

"Sure." He took her offer and watched her brush passed him to open a shoddy drawer where several pill-tables were stored.

She grabbed one that looked close to empty and pushed two from their pockets. Throwing them in her mouth before following with chugging her glass.

Bakugou watched as she blew her cheeks full with mouthful after mouthful of her drink while swallowing. A quirk playing at the edge of his lips as he watched her fish for another cup for him in the cabinet. His yes glued to the droplet that trickled down her chin and chest and disappeared somewhere in her cleavage. Verifying his thought from before. That she was indeed not wearing any bra.

She didn't notice his stares however. Where she was much too busy trying to calm the slight burn of embarrassment she felt over her mismatched crockery. Handing him one of few glasses that weren't chipped or flaked.

Wanting to curse herself as she couldn't find the courage to even look up at him as he took the cup from her hand.

Feeling his large coarse fingers brush over hers briefly. Almost making her drop it to a shattered mess on the floor.

His smirk grew. Even though he tried suppressing it.

He couldn't help it.

She just looked so cute.

Just like she did back when they were kids.

Despite having some remnants of mascara around her eyes, and a swell of breasts and hips now.

She was still small in those areas he was big.

Small manicured hands and feet with pedicured toes wearing those cute fluffy pink slippers.

Those large doe-eyes and that cute little button-nose.

She looked much smaller up close he noted. When she was standing right next to him. Tiny and so very defenceless.

She really shouldn't be living alone.

She looked up at him after feeling him stare holes into her neck for a while. Feeling observed and suddenly a bit too naked to be standing so casually with a person that was now practically a mere stranger.

But Bakugou didn't seem too catch much of the discomfort she was putting across. Or he did, and was doing an excellent job at ignoring it.

Otherwise distracted with the shiny black slip discarded on the floor.

He lowered himself in a squat and picked the little black party dress up. Inspecting it and it's length. Or rather it’s lack of.

His eyebrows raised in judgement as he gave a flash of that sun-swallowing grin he used to toss at her when he'd find a new bug in the forest before chasing her around with it, barking out how he’d put it in her ear where it could lay its eggs and turn her brain to mush.

It was strange seeing it without the missing teeth, she thought.

"Late night?" He questioned. Teasing her before she managed snatching the article form his grip.

Balling it up between her fists and giving a small pout before deciding to joke a bit too.

"Nah, it's just a tea-towel." She blinked innocently. Before giggling and giving a tiny smile of her own. Her eyes sparkling at him.

And he was suddenly aware of his heart.

"You look good." He let slip.

Couldn't help himself when seeing her dimples pop.

"Yeah?" She smiled. Arching a brow at him in suspicion. Thinking he was having another jab at her. "Well, I feel like shit." She admitted.

Leaning against the sink while messaging her temples. Her eyes closed and brows slightly furrowed.

"You should take better care of yourself." He stated.

But apparently it was the wrong thing to say.

Her eyes opened and looked at him unamusingly. Smile gone.

"Charming as ever, I see." She bit out.

"I'm just saying..." He started defending.

His voice set in that strict condescension so many guys feel as though they have the right to talk down to her with.

"Out all night drinking, smoking pot and fuck knows what else, sleeping all day, kitchen close to barren, not to mention your wardrobe-"

"Right." She stopped him. Visibly offended with the flicker of that old fire he'd been burned by so many years ago present like glowing embers in her eyes. "Quit acting like you can decipher my entire lifestyle from one skimpy club-dress on the floor, Sherlock." She snipped.

And he side-eyed the bong she'd left on the couch.

She followed his eyes and felt another pang of embarrassment at the sight of her equipment freshly splayed out from the night before.

"What?" She questioned sharply. Meeting his judgemental stare with a glare of her own.

Red-eyes once so childish and entitled, now so strangely mature.

"You gonna arrest me?"

Whereas she, evidently, still acted like a child.

"You'd be safer." He stated and she sharpened her eyes even harder at him while folding her arms. "But I wasn't planning on it."

"Cool. So how long before you leave?" Her voice had gone sour.

But he only chuckled at her behaviour. Loving the many trips down memory-lane all her little mannerisms where sending him on.

"You runnin' late for somethin'?"

His smirk was back.

And she felt something creep about her stomach that had her guts folding in all those nostalgic ways that told her he was up to no good.

"I thought we were catching up?" He asked. Putting his cup down before resting his palms against the counter as he leaned back on them.

Making no indication he was about to excuse himself.

"Quit acting like we're pals." She finally spit out. Feeling as though he'd long overstayed his welcome. "We were never even chummy to begin with-"

She halted in her building anger. Her brows furrowing.

"How did you even get my address-"

There was a crash to their side and she flinched like a spooked hare.

Her head snapping to the sound of whatever'd been knocked over in the living room.

But more importantly, what exactly had caused it.

Something stood in the shadowed corner of the room. Just behind her bedroom door.

A vase laid shattered on the floor. And a hand, a large hand, drummed strong, seemingly heavy, fingers on the countertop where it had previously stood.

"Oops..."

Another male voice had her gut wrench.

It'd been better if it were a stranger.

But she'd recognise that voice anywhere.

"Sorry to interrupt your reunion." He continued. "But I was feeling left out..."

Mites crawled across her back and she instantly felt her eyes pang with tears. Her throat tight and getting tighter. Leaving room for just one tiny trembling ask to slip her lips in hopes of being wrong.

"Izu?" Her voice bristled.

Frozen solid where she stood. She couldn't look away from those distinct green-glowing eyes floating in the dark.

"Sweetheart." It answered.

He took a step forward and her breath hitched as she shook with big eyes peeled like round saucers ahead at the dark shadow that seemed to triple for every step out of the darkness he took until the moonlight finally met him.

Not a poor snivelling quirkless twerp pushed around in the dirty sandlot anymore.

"Look at you..." He cheered. "So cute. In your little jammies."

She seemed to forget how to breathe the more she looked at him. Instinctively leaning towards the only source of safety.

"Bakugou-" She whispered. The name only barely audible, as far away and nearly lost in all her quivering as it was.

"Need help?" He asked nonchalantly. As though their homicidal childhood-friend hadn't just showed up for a surprise visit. "Thought you'd take a villain over a monster any day?"

Her brows furrowed.

"What-" Her attention turned to him briefly but was distracted by the bigger threat.

Drawn back to the green-haired male once he spoke up again.

"I believe those were the words." He affirmed. But she couldn't quite make her feelings settle enough to form thoughts about it.

Their build had grown threateningly similar, but Deku's voice still contrasted Kachan's. Sweet against gruff. Chilling and eerie against harsh and loud.

"Don't you remember, sweetie?" He continued. "Last time we were all together? When you went on and ruined everything?" Something in his voice altered and snapped accusingly and she flinched with it.

"You said you were done with us." The blond next to her clued in.

But she just couldn't spare the attention to focus on the malice in his voice.

"It made me hate you for so long." The male in front spoke again. "I had to get my hands dirty with other people just to get my mind off you."

He took another step forward.

More of him exposed in the pale moonlight.

Red stains splattered like a map on his white asylum-clothing. Some droplets going along the freckles on his face.

She stirred. Sick climbing up her pipes at the smell of sweet metal tainting the stale apartment air.

The scent of blood belonging to someone who was surely dead.

Green wild fluffy locks bounced as the man tilted his head to the side.

"I was afraid that if I stopped I wouldn't be able to help myself and I'd go hunt you down and rip you limb from limb just like how you tore my heart out."

A tear slipped down her cheek. Hot against her cold skin as she stood there frozen in place.

Breaths erratic. Shattering on intake and pushed out to make space again.

"But don't worry... your little visit had me feeling nostalgic."

She whimpered as another step was taken in her direction.

"Your pretty face on the opposite side of my window... that cute crinkle of worry between your brows... the little tear running down your cheek... your small palm on the glass wall... clutching the phone as you said such sweet little things right at my ear."

She'd been mourning the death of the boy she once knew and how his memory would haunt her for the rest of her life. How she'd abandoned a friend in need. How she'd aided in the creation of this mass-murderous monster who now stood in front of her.

"I was reminded of why I stayed away from you- Why I let myself get caught- Why I needed to protect you from myself and myself from you for a bit until I could forgive you for what you did to me."

"What you did to us." The other male cut in again.

But she wasn't given the time to address it, before another step was taken towards her.

"And my chat with Kachan cleared everything right up again." He said and her brows furrowed once again.

She trembled. Never having felt more unsafe than what she did at that moment. Standing in her own apartment with two lifelong childhood-friends.

"I don't want to kill you-" The intruder laughed.

His eyes wild as they looked down at her where she stared up at him quite like how'd she'd done when she'd gone and visited him on his behest.

Large eyes so wide in prayer at the complete mercy of the stone-cold world her unfortunate brittle quirkless soul was placed in.

"I love you." He stated.

His hands drowned with red as he laid them out flat in front of him, palms facing up.

"I want to love you."

She flinched.

Whole body stirred. Taken by instinct at the alarmingly manic adoration lacing his lovesick speech.

She tried once again latching to the only source of protection she had. Knowing she hadn't a chance of reaching the door in time without Deku reaching her first.

"Bakugou- do something-" She tried again. Thinking that perhaps with the hero tackling the villain, she might have a tiny shot at making it.

"You said you were better off with the villain." The blond replied bitterly. Still leaning with much too much rest and calm against her kitchen counter. Showing not a shred of worry. Almost as though ignoring the threat.

"Are you really picking right now to teach me a lesson!?" She tried scolding, but was unable to shed that sweet whimper caught in her voice.

"I want an apology." He said coldly. As though they had all the time in the world.

"Fine, I'm sorry." She bit out hastily. Her heart hammering to the point she almost couldn't feel anything else but the bleeding pumping pounding in her ears. Drumming in her fingertips. Strumming the ribs in her chest.

"That's not very convincing." He replied. Still seemingly completely detached from the trepidation she felt.

And she thought that it might have been because he, in all his cocky rights, had the situation under control enough to tease her a bit before saving the day like always.

But then Deku took yet another step and she lost it.

"Bakugou, please! I'm sorry! I was wrong, you are the next Almight!" She screeched. Turning to him with her misty eyes, despite her knees feeling like jelly.

"So you do remember?" He answered. Raising an eyebrow as he beheld her without much haste. "Not a complete braindead bimbo yet, huh?"

Mocking phrases repelled off her with ease after so many years living as a lesser human in others eyes.

She'd grown quite accustomed to begging when she had to.

Bowing her head, she laid her hands flat against the muscle of his crossed arms. Also because she was sure her knees would soon fail her completely.

"Yes! I'm sorry! You're better than Almight!" She started crying. "So please, help me!"

"Tch- that's a good enough apology to me." He grumbled.

A silent and toothless smirk crept up his face from where it'd laid playing in the corner of his mouth as he watched her cling to him for help and safety.

His hand groped the back of her head. Petting her locks for a moment. Before stopping with his next utterance.

"Now, Deku's turn."

She looked up front burying her face against his chest.

Tears on his shirt and spread on her cheeks. A puzzled crinkle between her brows, set above a pair of two dopey eyes misunderstanding what was happening around her.

"What?" She voiced weakly. "What's-"

"Aw, Quirkless, you never were too bright." Bakugou laughed. Scraping her cheek with his worn thumb as she still looked up at him with such pitifully confused eyes.

He took a second and looked to the other man. His smirk growing wider, to a sick point she could hardly even recognise him anymore.

"Who do you think helped him escape?"

A stillness befell her. As though everything took a moment to hold their breath. Before releasing a deeply unsettling shudder down her spine.

Suddenly she was struck with the dreadful feeling of being entirely alone.

"N- no-"

She shook her head as though glitching. Stumbling back.

But there was already someone there.

"How cute..." He commented.

His disturbing voice blowing right at her ear. Making her whip around to face him.

His bloodied hand wafting delicately over her cheek before she could push herself away from between the two of them.

Staggering away. With her heart in her mouth and her eyes round like a deer in headlights as she stared at the duo before her.

Equally tall, they stood like toppling towers.

"You're so small now..." Deku spoke with his head tilted at her. "Isn't she, Kachan?"

"Very." The blonde agreed. "Soft too, I bet."

Their eyes impossibly dark. Full of something... something that she just couldn't understand.

"Mmh, and warm..." Deku added. His emerald eyes jaded and drunken.

His hand reached out.

But her hand reached out too. Quick and desperate as she pulled a knife out of the knife-block standing on the kitchen-counter, slicing a minor cut on the fingers protruding towards her.

"Stay the fuck away!" She screeched. Putting both hands together to point the knife at the pair in front.

Deku watched his blood drip to the floor. Cracking a smile that was anything but sane.

"Still feisty though-" Bakugou commented. Watching her stand on knees so shaky she was only barely able to support the bloodied blade kept in her grip. "That's good."

Deku looked to her again. Pupils blown black with only a rim left of luminescent green.

Raising his hand towards his lips, he put his finger in his mouth. Sucking the cut along with whomever else's blood he had staining his hands.

"I wouldn't want it any other way.”

She grimaced.

"But, I do want my apology before we get started on the reunion." He added. Though, paused for another moment. "But... even before that-"

He looked down at himself. His hands smearing the still wet blots of blood further across his chest.

Clicking his tongue.

"I ought to do something with all this blood. It wouldn't feel right to stain you."

He gave her a quick look before turning to Bakugou.

"I'm going to go wash up. Grab her for me, Kachan?"

The man gave a grin back.

"Sure thing, Deku." He replied.

Already taking steps towards her while Deku disappeared into the bathroom.

"Fuck off! Don't fucking touch me!" She yelled.

Conjoined hands swishing the knife around in front of her. Not aiming at anything particular but the empty space of air separating her and the approaching ash-blonde.

Desperately trying to keep the distance.

"Careful." He commented while raising his hands and lowering himself with bent knees as he slowly stalked forward. "You might hurt yourself on that."

She sniffled and shivered.

"Why are you doing this?"

More hot tears streamed down her pitiful cheeks while her breathing just turned more and more erratic.

"Why?" He posed in return with a scoff. As though the question itself was stupid. "I miss you, Quirkless."

She swallowed. That same look of that eerie something growing in his eyes. The same look she'd spotted in Deku when she'd gone to visit him.

A spark of some sorts. Powder and fuse teased by friction. Just waiting to blow.

"You don't call." He criticised. "You don't write."

His voice rose. Eyes never once leaving her as he backed her up into the narrow space of the kitchen nook.

"You don't reach out at all!"

She flinched when he put his balled-up fist down hard on the counter. The punch making the drying utensils by the sink clatter as though they as well jumped with fear and huddled closer for comfort.

"You still haven't unblocked me and yet you go selling yourself to dickweeds on the street." He snarled and she almost lost hold of the knife with how much his menacing glare made her tremble.

There was a pause and another step, and his features softened to something else.

"If it's money you want, I have it." He offered. A somewhat hopeful look on his face. "I would've given you the world, if you'd just-"

He stopped himself again. Looking to Deku's blood on the floor and on the knife pointed at him.

"It's kinda fucked to admit but..." He started a new, the prior thought discarded.

Finding her eyes again.

"I dream of you- I see you everywhere I go- and I hear you-" He rambled. "Our last conversation..."

She gasped once her back hit the wall behind her. Leaning against it like it was the only thing able to hold her up as her knees grew more and more unsteady while the man in front drew closer.

"I want you to yell at me like that again." He confessed in a heated whisper. "It's my inspiration."

His eyes turned glossy as he spoke.

"I've been looking forward to this, you know?" He continued. "When I would finally confront you and show you how wrong you were."

He growled and she whimpered.

"You're insane." She cried weakly. Never having seen him like it.

"Oh yeah?" He smiled. His head cocking to the side as he beheld her with crazed eyes. "Who made me this way?"

She was about to lounge at him and take her only chances, but by that time Deku had finished up in the bathroom.

Standing just to the side in only the plush white sweatpants he'd arrived in. Bloodied asylum jumper discarded. Shirtless, now just intimidating scars on a ripped torso.

"Oh dear, we wouldn't want her hurting herself on that." He commented. Eyeing the knife still held in her hand. "Maybe it's better I take care of this, Kachan."

He didn't wait for a reply. Sending out unstable static tentacles of what looked like black tar as it leaped towards her with a speed she couldn't hope to match before it had tightly secured in a snug grip. Lifting her up off the floor and carrying her back to their master.

"No- Let go-" She protested as the knife was pulled from her grip and left her unarmed and tied with no chance of even throwing a measly little punch anymore.

"Don't fuss, little one... I want to hear my apology now." Deku lulled as he sat himself down in the couch, throwing his legs up on the seat.

Other vines not busy holding her steady making to lift the junk placed on the cushions away for Bakugou to follow and sit down next to him. Pulling her little bound shape onto his own lap to sit between his thighs and lie against his chest.

"Fuck you-" She cried. Desperately wiggling in attempt to free herself.

His hand ascending to hold your face to force her to look back at him as she tried twisting away.

"Don't be greedy..." He scolded. "We'll get to that... but my apology first."

A shudder ran down her spine upon his words. Brows trembling as she looked deep into his black pools ringed by green. Trying to spot any answers outside the one she knew already with the weight of his other hand squeezing her ass as he held her on his lap.

"I already got mine." Bakugou chimed in. His red eyes drowsy where he stood looking down her body. "So I'mma go on and start-"

He climbed up on the seat next to them. His knees sinking into the couch-cushion.

Then his rough and tough hands rubbing up the flesh of her thighs. He grabbed onto the cotton band of her short-shorts started to pull.

She yelped. Kicking at him. Struggling where she lied tight against Izuku's chest where he had his arms wrapped snug around her waist, resting his chin in the nook of her neck. His eyes endeared and amused while looking down at where Bakugou got kicked in the face by her flailing foot.

The blond groaned and rubbed his nose before grabbing her ankles with a growl.

"She's a fighter just like back in the day-" He commented with a sharp grin. Eyes wild.

"Aw... up against the number one hero and number one villain and you'll still try your chances?" Deku crooned. "You're so adorable."

An overwhelming wave of cries struck her with his words whispered against her ear. Stuck in his embrace with Kachan's face prying her thighs apart. His mouth puffing out warm breaths onto her naked unprotected sex.

"Oh sweetie, don't cry..." Deku murmured with a kiss on her cheek.

But his coos only made her cry harder.

And soon his tongue swiped up her cheek. Thick and warm and wet. Licking the salt up from her tear-soaked skin.

Katsuki's lips on her inner thigh. His scruff on her delicate skin, riding up to reach her cunt.

And suddenly there was too many tongues.

"No- stop-" She whined.

"Where's my apology?" Deku interrupted with yet another kiss against her cheek. Pulling her focus back to him.

She whimpered and shook in his brawny arms. So far away from their twig-like state back when they were kids. When she'd have to pull him along and help him catch up.

When she'd have to save him from Katsuki.

The man who currently sat on his knees with his head bowed between her thighs.

Deku kissed the corner of her mouth and Bakugou kissed her cunt and she shook her head with eyes pried shut until she burst.

"I'm sorry! Make him stop! Make him stop-"

"Sorry for what?" Deku ignored with a soft voice.

"For leaving!" She wailed.

Desperately trying to shuffle away from the wet attack the blond in front was waging between her legs.

"I shouldn't have-" She sobbed. "That was wrong of me- I'm sorry! Please make him stop!"

"Good. Forgiven." He said and smiled.

And Bakugou stopped.

"No need to dwell on the past when we have the present." Deku continued, simpering at Bakugou. "Right?"

Bakugou gave a wicked grin in return.

"You've never been wrong, Deku."

The man holding her down started moving at that. His arms lifting from their state of squeezing her waist to grabbing the hem of her loose T-shirt. Beginning to pull it off her.

She tried taking the opportunity to throw herself off the couch. But, didn't have a chance against the two men that quickly had her under reigns. Keeping her down, now fully nude.

"Mmh..." Deku took a tit in his warm palm and rubbed a nipple as she whined out another overwhelmed sob. "Now let's get started, shall we?"

Bakugou pulled back a hand from keeping her thighs apart. Producing his middle finger.

He tickled her opening and she jolted with another whimper.

"N-no-"

The blond ignored her. Forcing his finger inside.

She tensed and Deku sighed out a relaxed and comfortable murmur.

"It's been such a long time since we cuddled on a sleepover." He hummed with a soft smile. "But I won't give you any false hope." He began warning. "There won't be much time left for sleeping."

Bakugou jeered with a knifelike smirk carving his face. His red eyes set on her cute cunt squeezing around his knuckles.

"No- stop, please-" She stuttered. Trying to twist her way out of Deku's hug and away from the hand burying itself between her legs.

"Oh, come on..." Bakugou drawled cruelly.

His other hand having found her face. Squishing it with fingers digging into the plush of her bloated cheeks.

"Don't act like this isn't just another Tuesday for you."

Her lips quivered in his grasp. His face an inch away from hers. His breaths hot then cold on her teary skin.

"I've seen yah... in the club. Tossing your hair and giggling as you let shitheads grind on you." He whispered darkly.

His harsh eyes boring through her. Quite alike the finger he'd wormed inside her.

"Will you calm down if I stick a tip between you tits?"

His cruelty made her heart clench and she answered by kicking at him again. Her knee jolting and jabbing him in the groin, making him buckle over with a groan.

"Get off-" She growled.

But the uproar was swiftly stopped.

Bakugou's grip on her jaw tightened and she squeaked.

"Kick me again and I'll break your leg." He sneered in warning. Wild eyes looking manic with rage.

"Oh, Kachan, don't be so rough with her." The other male interjected. "You're scaring the poor thing." He mocked.

His tongue gliding up her throat as he gave a low chuckle.

"She's all goose-fleshed because of you." He accused. Kissing at her neck while she whined in disgust.

"What goes around comes back around." He stated. Stark red eyes glaring down at her and her tear-stained little face as he pumped his spit in and out of her cunt with his thick finger. Before squeezing another digit in along the first one.

Further stretching her out with a pained whine escaping her lips.

"This punishment is long overdue..."

His cruel words and cruel eyes and cruel touches all making her sniffle. Chest quaking.

"Don't listen to him." Deku cooed.

Nuzzling into her from behind. Squeezing her little body closer to his chest. His large hands fully cupping her breasts whilst rubbing his cheek against hers and whispering at the gloss of her teary lips.

"I'm sure if you relax for us, this'll feel more like us expressing gratitude over your gracious hospitality than any long grudge we're finally avenging."

Bakugou curled his digits and sent her further jolting once pushing his thumb down on her budding clit.

"Tch-" He scoffed out a cruelly amused laugh. "Afraid or nah..."

He rubbed the pad of his thumb across the bead beneath it and she couldn't stop the impulsive buck of her hips as she mewled beneath the man.

"She's dripping ready to take cock."

Swivel-eyes. Her heart skipped a beat before she could shake her head dramatically. Trying to wind her thighs shut.

Where in the new flurry of panic she begged the green-haired villain who she swore had the kindest of hearts only a few years ago.

"No- please, Izu- stop him, please- don't do this to me-" She sobbed.

But he didn't answer.

"What're you begging him for? Huh?" Bakugou growled.

Her chin kept between his coarse fingertips.

"He's just waiting his turn."

He glanced to Deku before his harsh gaze once again zeroed in on her and her hopeless glossy doe-eyes.

"Beg me instead." He demanded. "It's been so long since I've seen this little squishy face beg."

His eyes kept flickering to her lips and how they blubbered with tears. Looking so plush and plump and biteable. Licking his own lips, tasting her from before. Until he finally, with such surging intensity, locked onto her.

She squealed out a mumbled whine into him. Bakugou's stiff lips forcing themselves onto hers harshly. His tongue in her mouth.

"Please, Bakugou-" She tried once allowed air again, as the man moved to kiss her neck on the opposite side of where Deku was marking her up with love-bites.

"Nah, that's not what you call me." He answered. His voice gruff and lustful.

His fingers finally removing themselves from her hole. Beginning to pull loose his belt-buckle. Fighting with the button to his slacks and the zipper.

"Where's my pet-name, huh?" He requested. His other hand messaging the fat of her thigh as the other kept working to free himself.

His face buried in her neck. His hot breaths smeared on her skin along with small nibbling bites and suction.

His cock-head warm as she felt it bob upon her wet pussy.

"Please- Kachan- please don't..."

Bakugou was never one to listen to begging. She thought before blanking.

Coming to her senses with the rough bark of his voice again.

"Look at yah-" He laughed. "In the lap of a villain, getting fucked dumb by a monster!" He sneered into her tear-slicked face blinking softly up at him.

Showing her no ounce of mercy as he snapped his hips against her harsh and fast. Cock hard and seeking, blood-pumping and twitching for attention inside her.

His red eyes bloody and wide like a savage as he keenly watched out for her pained expressions and that pretty little choked moan that followed forced from her when he thrusted against her poor cervix again and again and again.

"Like a scene straight out’a hentai!" He snickered. "Guess that really does make you nothing but a dumb little bitch."

His face leaving no space between them. Pushed against hers. Forehead to forehead. Nose rubbing nose. Lips ghosting each other every time he rocked forward. Had himself sucking up all her sounds and her eating all his fucked-up and cruel words.

"Our little fuck-toy we finally learned how to share." He laughed again.

"Play nice, Kachan." Deku scolded and she was reminded of his presence again where he sat, still cradling her from behind.

Holding her close as though for support and comfort as the brute on top took and did what he wanted.

"She's too cute to be called such vile things..." He disagreed with another sickening kiss to her cheek. "If we're bad guys, wouldn't that make her our sweet little victim?"

Bakugou scoffed.

"She ain't no victim." He said and fucked harder. Enjoying how her eyes where soft as they continued to droop and blink and cross as though he'd fucked her into a state of complete submission. "She's getting what she deserves. What she fucking needs."

Deku made a noise as though thinking.

"Instead of fuck-toy, how about pet instead?"

Bakugou scoffed again, though this time with a laugh.

"Heh, yeah-" He agreed. "She does sound like a little kitten, moaning for me like that..."

Her hands had gone numb from their position of being bent behind her back. Still wrapped in Deku’s black whips.

The fight seemed to have drained from her. Her thoughts of escape diminished as though blanketed the more she was squeezed and sandwiched between the two muscled males.

Only the thought of holding out until they finished with her was left in her numbing head.

Along with the disgusting feeling of pleasure that tickled her lower stomach and seemed to fizzle with excitement in her thighs beneath where Bakugou’s strong hands had her spread wide for him.

"We should get her a pretty leash and collar." One of them said. But, their voices had more or less molded together. "Give her treats when she's been good and punish her when she's been bad."

"She's been bad a'right." The other replied and soon turned out was Bakugou.

His hand having dropped the fat of her thigh and gripped her face again. His fingers digging deep into the fat of her tear-soaked and stinging cheeks.

"Say it, pet. Say you're a bad girl." He spit and she hadn’t the will to spit back.

"I'm a bad girl."

It came out sweetly and softly, like it was someone completely different and not her.

But it was her all the same. Whilst she clenched tightly around the thing taking up space inside her.

"Mh fuck- say you're sorry." He groaned out. His head resting in the nook of her neck. His breath blowing on the wetness of her throat where her tears where beginning to dry.

"I'm sorry..."

Bakugou blew his load and his kisses turned sloppy against her neck and chest.

Panting with his entire body. Collapsed on her.

His sweat mingling with hers. Droplets dripping and running down their limbs as though chasing each other.

He pulled off her after a while. Still panting as he threw himself back against the other side of the sofa.

She heard Deku give a curt chuckle against her ear. And then the feeling of something stiff poking her back.

She was then easily lifted and sent into the other man's chest.

Now on her knees. With her face resting atop Bakugou's warm beating heart.

Feeling the man behind her shuffle forward. Not seeing him pull down his sweats, until the tops of his thighs hit the back of hers. And then the feeling of something large drag itself up between her already pummelled and prickly pussy-lips.

Bakugou's hot cum running down her thigh, as Deku's cock-head kissed her opening. Bathing in the slick.

And he didn't waste much time. Seeing she was already prepped and all. Hands held on her hips. He just started pushing.

"Ah- fuck-" She hissed. Her small hands grabbing and bawling up the fabric of Bakugou's shirt. "Please stop- please- break-"

"Aww, you wanna a break?" The man beneath simpered.

His chest fluttering at how she was clutching onto him. Her head pressed and hugging his pecks as she was rocked forward by Deku making himself comfortable with her from the back.

"Hah- can't handle nothing but rich pricks with their twig dicks?" He snickered, but the spite from before had disappeared. Now only sweetly condescending and strangely soothing.

A hand ascending from resting on the couch cushion to stroking the slick tresses of hair sticking to her cheek out away from her face, before continuing to pet smoothly over her head.

"Not used to being fucked by real men?" He continued.

And it was strange how he could talk down to her with such stone-cold callous words in that soft tone and treat her so gently while still doing something so ugly.

"Better get used to it.” The blonde continued in a murmur. Whispering to her as he caressed her to his chest. “You ain't ever fuckin' anyone else ever again."

The male behind gave a short chuckle as he bottomed-out deep inside what felt like having reached through to her throat.

"You make it sound like we're gonna kill her, Kachan." Deku chastised.

His hands gliding up her torso softly. Large hands holding her so steadily, squeezing her reassuringly.

"Don't worry, sweetie.” He purred. “No one's gonna hurt you anymore. We're here to keep you safe."

She twitched against Bakugou’s chest. The cock inside feeling as though pushed through her ribs as it pumped its load deep inside her womb.

Hot in her stomach before slumping out of her with a spew of mixed cum squelching from her hole as Deku pulled out.

Her small hands detaching from the shirt she’d been balling in her fists and she made to relax in a collapsed mess between the two. Feeling Deku rest his heavy chest down on her back.

All their heads in a cluster against the coach cushion.

Knocked from her senses in the emotional turmoil. She was exhausted and only a slip away form falling asleep.

Before a voice breached the restful peace of cohesive breaths calming down.

"You ready for round three, sweetie?"

Something twisted in her stomach where the words settled.

"It’s not a reunion without a double-d.”

"No-" She gave a sound of protest. Already panicked where weak hands laid down flat on the hard chest they had rested against. Beginning to lift despite being out of energy.

"Sh-sh-sh" Deku fussed. Collecting her brittle little arms into a neat cross behind her back. Keeping her in a bow.

"No- please, Izu. Kachan, please-" She pleaded, though it all stuck in her throat once Deku pushed through her sore walls yet again. The sound turning into a blubbered out wet moan instead, where half a cry laid hidden as she was too spent to produce such a thing as a wail.

"Shh Quirkless, calm down..." Bakugou joined in, halfheartedly cooing her. Whilst pushing in along Deku.

“Ah-” She gasped and hissed as they split her apart. Kept bent over in the perfect position for them to bottom-out together.

"Aw fuck-“ Bakugou moaned and tears spilled from her eyes and soaked his shirt. “This is how you properly apologise."

One was thicker. The other hit deeper.

And she couldn’t stop her cunt from sucking on the both of them each time they dragged through her walls with such overwhelming stimulating friction on their way to kiss her cervix deeply, filling her completely.

"We love you."

TIP-JAR

[starlordsandrockets]

Ask Nicely

pairing: dom!college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+

Word Count: 3.6k

summary: After drunkenly telling everyone in the compound that you ‘wear the pants’ in the relationship, Peter proves to you just how dominant he can be.

a/n: hope you enjoy the request! i’ve been extremely busy these past few months with work and traveling and prepping for nyc comic con.. but here’s a little dom!Peter to apologize! also here’s a compound fic to the few of you who seem to like my ‘compound Peter’ fics lol.

feedback is always appreciated! requests are CLOSED!

[ask is posted below]

The compound filled with drunken laughter as a smug smile sat on your lips. You studied Peter as he was the only sober being in the room. You sat by Peter’s side, arm stretched behind him on the couch and that began the night’s debate.

“Look, out of everyone here I think I’m the most grateful you two finally did it,” Tony finished off the whiskey that sat in his glass, “But come on Pete,” He motioned to your outstretched arm.

“What?” Peter questioned, turning his head. He had no idea what Tony was going on about.

“Her,” Tony exclaimed, “Her arm- Kid, she has you whipped,”

“And what’s so wrong about that?” Wanda questioned bringing her glass of wine to her lips, “I for one find it refreshing,”

“Refreshing?” Tony almost laughed, watching you smile behind your mixed drink, “She’s a menace,”

“There’s enough toxic masculinity on this team,” Natasha added, “Be glad he didn’t adopt your mannerisms,”

“I’m-I’m masculine,” Peter spoke, watching the team smile, “What?”

“Cute,” Natasha replied.

“What she means to say,” Wanda spoke, “You’re a nice change of pace. Not so controlling-“

You leaned forward, feeling the alcohol run through your system, “Yeahh, I think I wear the pants in this relationship,” A wider smile curled your lips as you watched the team laugh. Well, the entire team besides Peter.

Peter was silent next to you. He felt himself sink back into the plush couch, wishing it would engulf him. He wondered if you thought little of him. Maybe you always had.

“Y/N, I’m cutting you off,” Tony spoke, reaching out. He took the cup out of your hand, watching your brow furrow, “You’ll thank me later,”

“Yeah, okay,” Your tone was sarcastic and annoyed. You returned your arm to your side and scooted closer to Peter. He stared at you out of the corner of his eyes, “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Peter quickly replied, “Just tired,”

“We can go to bed,” You spoke, watching Peter shake his head in disagreement, “Tony won’t even let me drink,” You studied the group as they conversed amongst themselves, “He’s barely tolerable when I’m sober,” You joked. Turning your head, you studied Peter’s blank expression, “Okay?”

Peter felt his blood boil at the team’s loud laughter. It was as if his senses were in full effect, or maybe it was because the rest of the room’s senses were dulled, “It’s fine,” He finally responded, beginning to leave the couch you two shared, “Just keep having a great time with everyone else,”

Even with your buzzed system you could tell something was wrong with Peter. You watched him walk halfway through the large lounge before you began to follow him. The long hallway seemed to spin as you attempted to keep up with Peter’s pace, “Hey,” You called out, watching Peter’s head turn slightly. His pace did not slow as he made it to the door of his room, “Hey?” Your tone rang with annoyance as Peter slipped past his door, closing it behind him. You made it through just in time, only your leg getting caught in the doorframe, “Hello? I don’t know if you didn’t notice me following you or something,” Peter only stared at you from the middle of his small room, “What is your problem?”

“Me?” Peter questioned. He really did not want to start an argument, especially while you still had alcohol in your system, “I just,” He searched his head for a lie, “Being the only sober one gets tiring,”

“You’re lying,” You laughed. Walking towards him, you studied his handsome face. He would not look at you, “I know you don’t care about that. You love having drunk blackmail on everyone,”

“Why’d you say that in front of everyone?” Peter finally questioned.

“Say? Say what?” You questioned with a small tilt of your head. The room spun around you as you stared up at Peter, “I don’t-“

“That you ‘wear the pants’” He spoke with finger air quotes.

“That bothered you?” A smile sat on your lips as you made your way to his bed.

Peter watched you sit on his mattress. He figured you were having a hard time standing as you sobered up, “Yeah. Okay? It did,” He spoke, “I try to look past shit like that. Because you do that a lot,”

“Do what?” You questioned, watching Peter pace in his room.

“You say things and don’t think of my feelings sometimes,” He laughed, “and I know you don’t mean it and that it’s just… you. Just how you work,”

“It’s not a big deal,” You spoke, motioning for him to sit next to you.

“You heard what they said,” Peter replied, sitting next to you. The mattress bowed, bringing him closer to your side, “I- I can be controlling-” His words were cut off by a small laugh bubbling past your lips.

“Sorry,” You spoke, noticing Peter’s stare, “I’m not laughing, it’s just- you always give in,” You explained, “especially to me,”

“I want to make sure you’re happy,” Peter spoke, “Like- like when we have sex,”

“When we have sex?” You smiled, brows furrowing, “That’s what this is about?”

“No… but, but yes,” His tone weaved his words into a question, “I, I can be dominating,” This time you did not even try to hide your laugh, “I could- I am,”

“You’re sweet,” You smiled, bringing your hands to his cheeks. Peter backed away from your hold, eyebrows so low his lashes tickled his own skin.

“It’s because I hold back,” Peter spoke.

“Hold back?” You laughed.

“Yeah! My senses, when I’m around you- in you,” Peter rambled, “I have to hold back, I don’t want to hurt you,”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” You assured him.

“My strength might,” Peter explained, “That’s why- But I can be dominating,”

“Okay,” You spoke, hoping to end the conversation. But Peter saw right through you.

“You don’t believe me,” He spoke, leaning closer to you.

“Whaaat? No, no I believe you,” You watched his brow furrow, “Pete, I do,” You could not help the smile that curled your lips, “Reeallly- I, I do,” You could not help but find the conversation a little amusing. Peter was the sweetest guy you knew, not to mention date. He did not have an ounce of toxic masculinity in his gorgeous body.

Sure, Peter lead during sex, but it was not really like he was ‘in control.’ He did everything to please you, doing whatever you asked. The two of you have not been dating long but you could not pinpoint a time where he made you go down on him, it was only whenever you decided to fall to our knees. But Peter, he would eat you out for hours.

“Y/N,” Peter’s voice pulled you out of your dirty thoughts. He studied you, inches closer than he was before, “Fine,” He spoke.

“What?” You questioned, watching Peter’s expression change. You did not get the chance to study him for long before he brought his lips to your skin, “Hey-” His lips explored your neck. Once every inch was covered in a wet kiss, he moved up to your cheek, “What are you-“

Peter cut off your question with a kiss. Moving over you, he pushed you back onto his bed. He hovered above you now, knee falling between your legs. He kissed you, knee rubbing against the fabric of your jeans. The friction began to build as his hands wandered over the fabric of your shirt.

His right hand traveled down further and further. The fabric of your shirt tickled his skin as he made his way towards the button of your jeans. Moving his leg to make way for his digits, he broke the heated and hungry kiss, “Is this okay?” He questioned.

Peter was planning on showing you just how dominant he could be, but he was not an asshole. He wanted to make sure you did not regret this at all. Peter watched you nod underneath him.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” He watched you almost freeze at his words. Peter had to hold back a chuckle and part of him was turned on by seeing you in this state, “Come on,”

“Yes,” Your voice was small, cracking slightly as the single syllable crawled its way out of your throat. Clearing your throat, you did not look at him. You couldn’t.

A smile stretched on Peter’s lips, but he was pretty sure you did not see it. Moving back towards you, he buried his face into your neck, while his hand made its way under the fabric of your jeans. Your sharp inhale rang through Peter’s ears as he began to kiss the skin of your neck, “What was that baby?” He asked, fingers dipping under your underwear.

You whined, shifting in his hold.

“Hm?” Peter hummed, lips vibrating against your sensitive skin, “Is this what you want?” He asked, a single digit running through your wet folds. Feeling you nod, he brought his coated finger to your clit, lubricating the sensitive nerve.

You jolted at the sudden stimulation, “S-Shit,” You gasped. Peter revealed his smiling lips that were hidden in the crook of your neck, “wh-what?”

“That feel good?” He questioned, his touch slow and gentle. Watching you nod, a chuckle escaped past his grin, “Goood,” He drew out as he increased the speed. Your body tensed as you felt the familiar knot begin to form deep within you.

A string of moans began to make their way up your throat, passing through your parted lips. Peter stared at you, head hanging. His eyes travelled from your pleased expression to his hand that was hidden from sight, “Why don’t we get these pants off,” Peter spoke, watching you nod aggressively, “That sound good baby?” He watched you nod once more, “What did I say,” He watched your eyes meet his, a look of confusion reflecting in your y/e/c pools, “Need you to use your words for me,”

You whined. Peter was never like this, and it embarrassed you. You felt helpless and it turned you on. He stared at you, waiting for anything to pass through your lips, “Peter… please,”

“Please, what?” He questioned, his touch slowing. The building orgasm slipped from you with each passing second.

“No fair,” You whined. Your hips rocked, attempting to chase your high. However, Peter’s hand disappeared from underneath the fabric, “Mm,” You whined.

“You’re not acting like you deserve to cum,” Peter spoke, “You’re telling everyone that you wear the pants,” He spoke, beginning to pull your jeans down your legs, “but you’re begging me to take yours off,” Peter’s actions were painfully slow.

“Please,” You groaned, shifting below your boyfriend, “noo fair,”

“Play nice and behave,” He spoke, attracting your gaze. Even Peter was unsure where his words were coming from. He always lead during sex, but now he was in control, “Okay?”

“Yes,” You breathed out.

“I don’t want to have to punish you,” Peter spoke under his breath. He really did not want to, because he was already losing himself to you. He was afraid what would happen if he used his strength against you.

However, you wanted to see where that would lead, and Peter knew you all too well, “Yeah?” You questioned, a small smile beginning to curl your lips. You were back to reality, Peter grounding you as the alcohol left your system.

“Y/N,” He spoke, your name almost sounding like a warning from his lips. You hummed in response, the vibration played innocent, “Fine,” Peter leaned back, moving to the end of the bed.

You whined, thinking that he was just going to leave you like this. You did not want to fend for yourself, you wanted Peter to release you from your horny state, “Can’t do it?” You questioned as Peter sat on the edge of his mattress.

Suddenly, you felt Peter’s hands toss you over his legs, “I was just moving,” He spoke, adjusting your body that squirmed nervously, “to do this,” Peter claimed as he brought a flat hand against the skin of your ass. A whine left your lips, filling the air, “Are you going to behave?” He questioned. You were silent, shocked at Peter’s sudden dominance, “Y/N?” Peter attempted to get your attention with another hard spank.

“Peterrr,” You whined, turning your head. You met his eyes as he stared back at you, waiting for your answer.

“Are you?” Peter repeated, “Are you going to behave?” He raised his palm, watching you brace for another spank.

“Yes,” You shook your head, “Yes,”

“Good,” Peter spoke, putting down his raised hand as he watched you close your eyes. Instead, he reached out, taking hold of your y/h/c locks. Twisting them around his hand, he pulled you to your knees.

You were a whining and whimpering mess. Pain and pleasure were equally balanced within you. Staring into Peter’s dark gaze, you watched him place a rough kiss to your lips. You groaned against his skin as his strength began to overpower you. Your hands fell behind you, attempting to hold yourself up as Peter’s kiss and hold on your hair began pulling you down.

Taking his free hand, Peter brought the pads of his finger to your clothed clit. He felt you struggle against him, body trembling from bliss, “Is this too much?” He questioned, bringing his lips to your neck. He pulled on your hair, exposing even more of your skin to him. He felt you shake your head, “Use your-“

“No,” You interrupted. However, in some ways, it was too much. You had not felt this frustrated since before the two of you finally confessed, “Please,”

“What?” Peter questioned.

“More,” You whined as he stared back at you. He was waiting for you to explain yourself and it made you groan, “I need more, need you,”

“Why don’t I make you cum first,” Peter spoke, fingers now pushing the fabric of your underwear aside, “okay sweetheart?”

You nodded, eyes screwing shut at the sudden skin on skin stimulation. You heard Peter chuckle, making your brows furrow.

“Need you to tell me when you’re going to cum,” Peter instructed, “okay?” He watched you nod again before placing a wet kiss to the corner of your lips. Before picking up speed, he dipped his long digit into you, coating his skin in you, “You’re so wet,” He smiled cockily, “You like this? Think I can be dominant now?”

“Mhm,” You quietly verbalized.

“Yeah?” Peter questioned, he felt you twitch in his hold, “Remember what I said?” Peter watched you nod, eyes screwed shut, “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” You moan, “gonna cum,” As soon as your climax built, it fell apart as Peter removed his fingers from between your legs, “Mmm,” You whined.

Peter gave you a sympathetic pout as you met his gaze. He watched irritation cross your once blissful expression, “Lay down,” He spoke, yet he did not give you the choice. He brought his handful of hair towards the bed, throwing you against the mattress. He laid by your side, fingers returning to your clit almost instantly, “Tell me when you’re close,”

Your nose wrinkled at Peter’s command, knowing he was going to deny your orgasm once more, “Pete-“ You whined.

“Tell me when,” He repeated, a short yet stern pause in between his words. His fingers switched, stimulating you differently than before.

Peter’s fingers were stimulating you even better than before, making a moan bubble past your lips, “fuckkk,” You groaned, feeling yourself almost reach your orgasm.

“Y/N,” Peter called you back to reality.

“Gonna cum,” You spoke weakly, words manifesting in between blissful moans. Peter’s fingers left you, making you bite your tongue. If you did not, you would have cursed him out, making your punishment last even longer, “MMM,” A whine was all you could mutter.

“What?” Peter played innocent, meeting your pleading gaze, “Do you think you deserve to cum?” He questioned. Peter watched you nod in reply, “I don’t think you do,”

“I dooo,” You whined.

“Why?” Peter questioned, “I don’t think you’ve been good. Drunk Y/N wasn’t playing nice,”

“I’m being good,” You told him, watching him bring his fingers back to your wetness. A whine vibrated your lips as he trailed his fingers between your folds, “I’m playinggg niccee,”

“You think so?” Peter asked, watching you nod, “I think you’ll need to convince me,”

“MmM,” You whined again. You did not know what Peter wanted.

“What?” He questioned back.

“How?” You wondered. Peter trailed his wet digits up your stomach as you laid next to him. You took in a sharp breath.

“Think you’ll need to beg,” Peter affirmed, “convince me you deserve it,” He watched your eyes shoot towards his lust filled gaze. You were silent and it only turned Peter on even more. He cocked his head, almost waiting for you to speak, “Hm?”

“Peter,” You breathed out, far too embarrassed to complete the task he had given you.

“Y/N,” He replied, “If you don’t want to keep going-”

“I do,” You spoke, “Please,”

“Please what?” Peter urged, “Beg for it,”

You hesitated, grabbing at the words that were muddled in your lust clouded head, “Please- Please let me,” You tested. Peter only stared at you, your words not good enough, “please let me cum. I’ll be good,”

“Will you?” Peter questioned, “You seem to love embarrassing me in front of the team,” He watched a slight smile curl your lips, “What’s so funny?”

“It’s fun,” You admitted, your claim almost a whisper, “you get so worked up-” Your words ended in a yelp as Peter’s flat fingers hit against your clit.

“You’re not helping your case baby,” Peter reminded you, “I thought you were being good,”

“Just being honest,” You whined, flinching at the wave of Peter’s hand, “mm,”

“Be good,” Peter’s hand that was once a threat, now rubbed small and slow circles against your clit. He waited for the stream of moans to crawl up your throat, “See what happens if you’re good?”

“C-Can I cum?” You stuttered, shifting on his mattress. His pace picked up as a you felt your climax begin to grow once more, “s-shit,”

“I dunno,” Peter spoke, “I’m not hearing a lot of begging,”

“P-Ple-Please,” You moaned, “I’m so- so close and I wanna cum so bad,” You were a whining mess as you focused on delaying your orgasm, “I’m gonna cum-“

Removing his hand, Peter rose to his knees. Swinging his leg over you, he now straddled your legs as his hand returned to you, “You’re asking so nicely. You really wanna cum that bad?” He watched you nod almost violently, making a small laugh pass through his curling lips, “MMMaybe,” He heard you whine, “Are you being good?”

You groaned, submitting to him in hopes that he would grant you relief, “I’m,” Your voice trailed off, irritated at Peter’s teasing, “trying,”

He stared down at you, seeing that you were sick of waiting, “Yeah?” Peter returned his hand, allowing you just a little bit of relief, “Good job,” He began to work you closer and closer to your orgasm. However, your blissed expression still housed furrowed brows, “What’s wrong baby?” He watched as you shot him a glance, “You wanna cum?” You nodded, moans too constant to allow any words through your parted lips, “I need to hear you,”

“Please,” The first plea echoed off the walls of Peter’s room. A hush passed through his lips as he realized just how worked up you truly were, “Pl-Please Pete let me cum- shit,” You focused on your climax, not letting yourself get swept away by the waves of pleasure, “I’m- Please let me cum I’m so close- too close- You feel so good,”

Peter chuckled at how lost you were in him, “Beg,”

“Pleaseeee,” You almost cried.

“Fine,” Peter spoke, focusing on the movement of his fingers against your clit. He dipped a digit between your folds before working you back to your orgasm, “Cum for me,”

Your eyes screwed shut as you focused on the feeling. Reaching out, you began to wrap the fabric of Peter’s shirt around your fingers, pulling him closer to you.

“You gonna cum for me?” Peter questioned, your moans no longer a steady stream, “You wanted to cum so bad,”

“Closeee,” You whined, unable to fall over the edge that you could not go over moments before. Pushing up the fabric of your shirt, Peter’s fingers hooked under the bottom hem of your bra. Pushing the fabric over your breasts, he took your nipple between his lips, coaxing a loud moan out of you, “I- I’m- gonna cum,” You stuttered as Peter’s tongue danced across your nipple, “fuck-” You swore, vision blurring as your entire body came crashing down.

“Gooood jobbb,” Peter smiled, hovering above you now. His fingers continued to stimulate you through your orgasm. However, after all the teasing, you found yourself extremely sensitive. Each movement Peter made sent a jolt through your body and a whine to pass through your lips, “Too much for you?” He watched you nod in response, but kept going.

“Peter, please-” Your body jolted as you begged for him to stop, “Stopp- stop,” Peter did as you asked now, moving back to your side.

He watched as your bare chest rose and fell heavily, attempting to catch your breath, “How was that?” He finally questioned after a moment of silence. You turned your head towards him, too tired to verbally question, but he could tell by the look you shot him, “I can be dominant,”

You laughed before catching your breath once more, “You… you got me,” You admitted, “I’ll never doubt you again,”

“And if you do, you know what’ll happen next,” Peter almost warned, however his tone was playful.

“Shut up,” You laughed. Collecting your energy you turned to face him, catching his lips in a sweet kiss.

[iwaasfairy]

OMG IM SO EXCITED THAT YOUR REQUEST ARE OPEN!! i miss my baby atsuko so much so maybe can we get a drabble of him and his pretty mom? maybe with your fav hard kinks? only if you want to of course! <3

┌─ “ ! „ UNFAIR

tw.  incest, degradation, jealousy, more atsuko because i can a/n. yes you guys let me indulge too much thANk yOUUUU aHHHH ♡ have some,,, soft tooru and hard atsu. i might come back to add to this but right now brain is pretty blank so it's a bit lacking in actual smut smut but i tried!

Uncle Iwaizumi tells you the kid is spoiled rotten sometimes. You’re going to have to start believing it soon. From as soon as Tooru gives the go-ahead, Atsuko is dragging over enough beers to topple an army, filling your kitchen with ‘summer spirit’, as he so calls it. “Atsuko, I told you we wouldn’t be having any more parties until you clean up the mess you guys made last time.”

“Tooru said I could.” He just shrugs, bending to drag another whole crate of beers next to the already stacked fridge. Your house has become a jungle gym for university kids ever since he’s been home for the summer.

“You shouldn’t even be asking Tooru, because I already told you no,” you try again, slowly shying back when he comes to stand before you with that same knowing grin that had you swooning every time before this one. He runs a hand through his hair, letting the words just float by. You frown. “Ko—”

“I love you, mom,” he softly says instead, long lashes spreading over his cheeks as he smiles even wider. He leans in to give you a kiss so soft it tingles down your spine, before humming into your mouth. “You taste good.”

It has you flustering, balling your hands into your dress and staring at him in exasperation. But your son is already sending you a wink and going back to his business as he had been, contentedly. 

Of course, the gentle coo of Tooru still rings in the back of your mind as you go back to just watching Atsu load the fridge with ice and other colorful drinks. “You have to be a little tougher on him, or he’ll walk all over you,” your first brunet had whispered into your hair just a few hours ago, where you could still feel the smile curl onto his pretty lips on cue.

Tooru knows full well you’re not the delegating type. He knows, because he’s the one to give you rubs under your chin like you’re a pet at the first sign of complying behavior, bathing in your pouts and sighs like the mere idea of it brings him joy. You suppose it probably does. Your husband is a menace all on his own. So when you sigh, and he chuckles; you almost wonder if he’s expecting you to try at all. And try you would, if the charming grin on your boy’s face wasn’t sent your way so easily.

Instead you’re walking through the house towards the office, let the pats of bare feet ring behind you to drag yourself through the heavy door. Tooru’s sitting with one leg propped onto his knee, light brown hair swept away from his forehead as he drops his pen at the first sight of you. Whatever paperwork he was working on is slid aside like he was waiting for you. “Hi baby,” his smile is bright, too charming to ignore, “what’s the matter? You look like you’ve just tried to fight a whole war by yourself.” He laughs when you let out a noise of displeasure at that, motioning you over to place you on his lap. “What, little one?”

Your pout is on before you realize it. “You’re laughing but I might as well have.” His hand softly grips your jaw, brings your lips close enough to his to tickle. As he does, he basically reads your mind, sliding his other hand along the small of your back to soothe you. Gentle but present, demanding.

“Ko’s giving you a hard time?”

You sit nose to nose for a second, before placing a few soft kisses on his lips and letting out a noise. The truth is, Atsuko isn’t a difficult person. He wasn’t a difficult kid, and though he had his moments as teens do; he was always more than happy to help you out and even aid in house work. Always with no more than a quick hum and an encouraging squeeze of your shoulder. All he asked was some freedom to do as he pleased in return. Was it really so hard to believe that you’d find it easy to roll over and take most things as they came?

“Not really,” you mouth gently, then let out a sigh. “You know how he is. He’s sweet, -he is- but—”

“Used to getting what he wants,” your husband snickers before placing another kiss onto your lips, shifting your legs aside to sit you down more onto his lap. “Well, can’t do much about it now.” You want to glare at the resignation in his voice, and blame Tooru a little more. He wasn’t much help in that matter either, as far as you remember. You live with two hedonists, who love nothing more than to push and prod at your boundaries all day long. But then Tooru tilts your head back to face him, and starts laying needy kisses under your ear.

“Why don’t you try disciplining him for once? I’ll back you up.”

It’s an order, not a suggestion. You know this. But the way he caresses up your sides and moans hoarsely at the slight shift in your weight is a bit too distracting for your own good. He brushes your hair aside to kiss down your neck until the crook of it, then bites down on the skin and makes you shiver. “Where’s our boy?” The low whisper is an afterthought when he rolls his hips into you, strong thighs flexing as you thread your fingers through the shorter hair on the back of his head.

“Terrace— kitchen.”

Tooru hums, then catches your lips again and lets his tongue meet yours, only pulling back to send you a wolfish grin. “We got some time then. Good. You look so fucking hot right now.”

+ 

You should know that when Tooru says ‘back you up’, he really means —witness your suffering. Atsuko’s long since grown too tall for you to seem like any kind of serious rulesetter, all physicality of a line-backer making him seem much the intimidating young man. And for all his gentle consideration towards you, he loves nothing more than fighting you on simple decisions. For absolutely no reason. Because he can. You don’t even get to feel like a mom with how often he’s waltzing all over you like it’s his personal hobby. It’s why you usually left the strict punishment to Tooru. Hell, you can’t even remember the last time you truly disciplined him ever since the kid hit puberty. It’s not your fault you’re a bit of a pushover, and both your boys know how to slither out of your hands.

“Baby.”

“Yes?” Atsuko is currently taking your freshly washed towels to the pool deck with a little whistle, while Tooru’s leaning back against the couch and trying not to watch you too obviously. But you can feel his eyes burning into your skull each time your boy walks past you and you slump in on yourself a little more. You can’t do this.

You physically have to fight the words out of your mouth, moving to stand in Ko’s path before he stops what he’s doing to peer down at you. Almost like him and Tooru both are in on it, and you hate that your cheeks are already hot. “Atsuko.” He doesn’t say anything, but raises an eyebrow, and bends down a little to add insult to injury. “What is your plan with all this crap? You don’t think you-” you glance over your shoulder to look at your husband, before waving your fingers about for emphasis, “-have to consult your parents about this?”

“Aw, come on.” He shrugs, before blinking a few times. “You always like my parties.”

“That’s not the—”

And grabbing your hand to pull it to his chest, making you stumble a few steps closer, he continues. “I even seem to remember you had a great time. Or— Times. Four separate ones I think, until I had to carry you to your own room because your legs gave out.” Whatever you were planning on saying dies on your tongue when he dips to kiss your mouth with an excessive kissy noise, before wrapping his arms around you and squeezing until you’re all warm on the inside. Then he slips past you to open the floor length windows wide with the same song he was whistling before.

You glance at Tooru with an expression you’re not sure is anger or complete mortification, but your husband’s reaction is anything but helpful. Just tilts his head and sends you an unimpressed look. “That went as expected,” he mumbles under his breath, before pulling away from the couch to give you a few pats on your head and a click of his tongue. He lifts his lip in mock confusion, before letting his eyes trail after his younger copycat of a son. “Always with the public stuff,” he mutters though, sending you a look that makes you want to melt into the floor.

By the time Atsuko comes back into the house you’re stirring the vegetables for dinner with a glare. Always with this. You go on muttering to yourself about the two men you’ve gotten stuck with when the tallest peeks his head in the door. You had to remove yourself from Tooru’s presence after the afternoon, because he’d taken the little Atsuko stunt as a personal challenge to make you cum all over his face instead of going on his run, and your stance is still a little wobbly after it all. But as your luck has it, Atsu’s back to melt himself to your back and sway you a little. “Hey, pretty lady.”

You keep glaring at the popping vegetable oil in the pan as he squeezes your hips. “Mom,” he whispers, and you hold the urge to let your eyes flutter shut. Stupid. “Mom.” Warm lips track your pulse along your neck, stopping for a second to ghost over Tooru’s mark. You know it must drive him a bit wild, ever the competitive type, but he ignores it in favor of sliding his hands along your belly into the front of your shorts and drawing shapes much too low on your pelvis. “What was that earlier, hm?” There’s a tone in his voice you recognize, and it immediately sets your hairs on end.

Because the low, rumbly gravel is the exact one he loves to use when he’s bending you over and stretching you on his cock and— and you’re supposed to be mad at him! You are mad at him. “Tell me,” he breathes though, pushing one hand down with a punishingly slow pace, before palming your pussy. A little whimper breaks through your mask when he applies pressure just where you like it, but the brunet doesn’t delight in it like he would. “Come on, pretty thing, use your words. You were trying to tell me something earlier, weren’t you?”

The lazy rubbing of your pussy causes you to quickly turn off the stove in fear of getting burnt, before you try to look over your shoulder at him with narrowed eyes. But at his cocky smile you fall quiet, so quick to be back at his mercy. “But you’re all mine, and you can never say anything, hm?” If anyone saw, they’d see what a truly pathetic figure you are buckling under the slightest push. The prodding of his fingers doesn’t speed up, but he starts to circle your clit with a precision you wish he didn’t have, and raises a brow. “So soft and good for me,” his breath tickles along your neck as you look away from him, grabbing at his wrist.

To push him away or pull him closer, you’re not sure. You want to stand your ground, truly. You do. Atsuko just doesn’t care right now. “Maybe it’s because you’re always thinking with this cunt. Can’t discipline me when you’re trying to get this pussy ate.” He slips two fingers between your lips into your wetness, backing you away from the counters and leaning into him. “Let your son ruin your pussy like this— what a nasty, dumb girl. You’re pretty fucked, y’know?” His coos are whispered almost lovingly against your cheek, if not for the smile and the sharp edge to his voice.

“I should show you what it’s like to punish someone, don’t you think?”

[saebyeoked]

so i saw that your marvel requests are open so i was wondering if you could write a headcanon or a fic (doesn't matter) about druig dating/pining over an avenger reader? ty!

i decided to make this a ficlet drabble type thing? i thought it made sense with the idea so i hope you enjoy what i decided to do with it! thank you for requesting!

gn!reader

a fan — druig

he thought the avengers were fake the first time he heard about them. humans? trying to fight and protect humanity on their own? he would be lying saying it didn't make him laugh. while he admired their determination, he had little to no faith in them against the enemies they were up against.

though, druig was quickly proven wrong when the avengers beat thanos. they'd gotten their asses handed to them before and it almost pained him not being able to intervene then. he found out that these people loved their friends and families so much they'd gone to such great lengths to get them back, even risking what they'd had.

he'd seen you on the news before, clad in your suit as you fought in dangerous battles or against menacing foes. it wasn't that hard to catch a glimpse of an avenger, but he didn't expect himself to think so highly of you so quickly.

he hadn't even met you properly yet. he'd only seen you through the screen of his phone or on televisions somewhere. though your eyes captivated him. whenever you made eye contact with the camera it felt like you were staring into his soul; and he liked it. he liked feeling the way you made him feel.

he hadn't ever felt that way before. you brought new emotions to him he'd only heard people talk about, but he enjoyed them. he enjoyed the pounding of his heart in his chest, so loud he could hear it in his ears. he loved the way his face would turn pink whenever he saw you somewhere.

it felt like there was a connection somehow.

though, you would probably never know he existed. he wasn't a people person in the first place and— even if he met you— he'd never be able to tell you the full truth about what he was.

he did run into you, eventually. the two of you met in a coffee shop. he didn't notice you at first, too focused on the menu in front of him to hear the chatter of children coming from behind him. it was only when he focused he could make out what they were saying; "an avenger! y/n the avenger!"

he turned around, perhaps a bit too quickly, and as soon as your eyes met his he felt his heart rate quicken. druig knew nothing would come from your encounter and he didn't expect anything to. he stopd in line, a blank expression on his face.

"you a fan?" a familiar voice came from beside him. he'd felt the presence a moment or so before, but didn't think it was important. though when he looked up he was met with your eyes looking deeply into his. it felt like he were falling into a trance and he wondered if that's how people felt whenever he used his power on them. he regained his composure, determined to keep his admiration for you a secret. druig shrugged, "i know who you are."

"oh, come on." you teased, "i saw you turn around when one of those kids mentioned my name." he continued his stoic expression, but bit at the inside of his cheek. "curiosity, i suppose." he uttered after a moment. you only laughed. he tried to keep his eyes off of you while you did, but he stole a few glances. he noticed how your eyes shone while you laughed, how you threw your head back and how you rested a hand on your stomach. he was always an observant person and he was thankful for it then.

"i like you." you said through your laughter. druig furrowed his eyebrows, "you're funny." you finished, the bright smile on your lips not fading as he looked at you. "glad you think so, then." he said, half serious. he wanted you to think he was only joking but he he felt so happy on the inside.

you didn't take your eyes off of him and you went through the line at the coffee shop together, making casual conversation. he continued finding little things he liked about you as you spoke, noticing how different you were in real life than through a screen. you retained that same kindness, but you seemed more human while he talked with you.

"you mind if i sit with you?" you asked him after you'd both gotten your order. he shook his head and the two of you sat at a table together in the corner of the coffee shop. he had been planning on picking up his drink and leaving afterwards, but he changed his mind as you showed a genuine interest in him.

he noticed that most people put off by him, but you never were. from the first second of your conversation you were teasing him and making jokes like you'd known each other for centuries. he knew you couldn't be alive for that long, but he felt like he'd already talked to you before.

"you know.." you trailed off, moving the straw around in your drink, "i wouldn't mind if we did this again." druig perked up, almost too energetically for his outward appearance, but he nodded. "i wouldn't mind, either."

he didn't know what he was getting himself into, but as you wrote your number down sloppily on the side of his cup, he didn't care.

the only thought on his mind was meeting you again.

[myonepiece]

"please don't leave me"

w/ kid and doflamingo

warnings: angst-ish

i didn't get carried away i promise

drunken, slurred lyrics filled the old bar; accompanied by the loud pounding of boots against the tables, bar, and floor. it was one of those nights, when everything feels perfect- you're free, powerful, and in love. it's almost euphoric.

sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the crowded, boisterous room, was the captain. the man you loved with all of your heart, and on his thigh, you sat happily. the redhead had his flesh arm wrapped around your waist, in the other hand he held a large mug of whatever the crew had gotten so energetic with- but kid was perfectly happy sitting down with you. the grin on his face expressed more happiness than malice, for once, and you could see that this is how he wanted to live.

looking up at him, almost having to peek over his broad chest, you beamed with admiration, careless to the teasing that was no doubt being thrown around. it seemed that at least one of the taunts had reached kid, because his chest rumbled with a chuckle before he looked down at you.

"what're you staring at?" he asked with a smirk, bright, fiery eyes locking with yours; they appeared filled with madness, but how else could kid love?

"please don't leave me, kid." you said, maintaining the twinkle in your smile despite the melancholia of your question. a pout formed on the captain's lips and a wrinkle in his brow.

"why're you saying that?" he asked, voice, laced with confusing. you simply continued to smile at him, though your eyes grew softer, more sentimental, as you stared into the burning timbers of his eyes. after a shared moment of silence, kid set down his cup and rested his mechanical hand on the table; then, turning slightly in the chair, he pulled you closer and ducked his head down, capturing your lips in his.

a series of whistles and cheers erupted throughout the bar. kid pulled away but tucked his chin next to your ear.

"i'd never leave you." he whispered gruffly, pulling away with red dusting his cheeks. slipping his legs out from under the table, he pushed the chair back a bit and propped his feet on the table, and theen grabbing your legs, he positioned you bridal style on his lap.

you settled your cheek against the warm skin of broad chest, placing your hand over his on your waist. the bar was alight with cheeers and whistles. one of the men raised his mug, with a booming voice he called for a cheers. the rowdy group of men cheerfully raised their mugs, and with a cackle and the menace returning to his eyes, kid picked his up.

sitting in one of the many luxurious items of furniture filling the palace of dressrosa, doflamingo sat with his signature coat discarded on the couch to the left of the chair. clad in only his white satin pajama pants, he brought the bottle of wine to his lips repeatedly until it looked like he wore smudged lipstick.

the door made an abnormaly loud creak when you opened it, most likely amplified by the quietness of the room doffy sat in. the glowing lights of dressrosa just managed to peak in through the window with the moon, casting light across the broad chest of doflamingo. he would have appeared to have not noticed you coming in, but you knew better than to think that. you silently slipped into the room and closed the door, walking across the room until you reached where doffy sat.

one of his arms rested just anough on the arm rest that you could see he had left room for you. you climbled in to his lap carefully, settling back against his warm chest. you peered up at him with a blank expression. doffy turned down to you, scowling and taking another sip of wine.

"doffy, please don't leave me." you whispered. at this, the blond stopped mid drink and removed the bottle from his lips. his face softened and he wore an unreadable expression. doffy had never thought he'd need to hear that, but just as you said it he felt a small piece of that heavy chain around his heart, fall away. a warmth blossomed in his chest and a lump in his throat. he lowered his head more, bringing his forehead against yours.

throught the glassess, you couldn't see his eyes, but you could feel them boring in to you. he gently rubbed his forehead against yours, before grabbing your feet that hung off the chair and swinging them over his lap. with your head resting agaisnt his shoulder, and his chin moved to the crown of your head, his lengthy arms encircled your figure and he finally found sleep.