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ximiiixx · 16 days

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seducing your neighbor 101.

in which cove is an open book, and you have always known what he likes. fortunately for you, you're also well aware of what you want.

♡ nsfw, no au, gn + afab or amab reader ♡ sub / service top cove + gentle dom bottom reader ♡ pre-established relationship, oral sex (reader receiving), mostly vanilla save for cove's anklet fixation bleeding into brief foot worship(?)

you are many, many things - but you aren't stupid.

perhaps it was because you saw a bit of yourself in the way your neighbor and closest friend acted around you, but you've known cove has had a crush on you for quite a while. of course, you'd never want to pressure him into anything without a bit of delicacy, and so you resigned to wait for him to tell you instead at the ripe age of 13.

it's been about seven years since then. he still hasn't told you. even after you moved in together, got pets together, started sharing a bed - he has not told you.

and you are many, many things - but you aren't completely patient, either.

as fun as all the sneaky glances and playful banter that this cat-and-mouse game has granted you are, you're not about to pretend that this is all you want. and you've known cove long enough to know when he wants something too - especially when it's something he feels like he can't have.

so thus begins your grand plan to let him know that you're something - someone - that he is very allowed to have.

from leaving your nicest underwear in plainest view in the wash during his laundry days to spending your mornings in practically nothing when you're on breakfast duty, every hint you hurl at him couldn't be more glaringly obvious. you're sure he knows that you're up to something - after all, it's not like he's stupid either although you're working on changing that.

but, stubborn as ever, he still refuses to make a move.

and with how impatient you can be, you're getting sick of playing the long game with him. therefore, you've decided that you won't play at all - you'll just have to set up the stage for him to reap the rewards himself.

so here you find yourself, curled up in your shared bed - he really has gotten better at that - with...

...a vibrator pressed against your clit.

...your fingers wrapped around your cock.

short breaths punch out from your lungs as you shiver, feeling another lightning-bolt shock of pleasure lap against your nerves. shifting your legs to spread open further draws a high whimper out of you as your head turns, face pressed into cove's pillow as you steadily work yourself to climax.

"ohh f- fuck, cove-" you whine, teeth aching to dig into more than just his pillowcase. the little lace number you'd done yourself up in today clings to your sweat-damp skin, and your chest heaves against the thin straps with every curl of pleasure that digs into your core. "c'mon, fuck, fffuck- yyeah, mhm, mhm mhm-"

magma flows through your blood as you arch up and cry out, a rambled covecovecove spilling from parted lips as you cum. you collapse against the sheets, flushed and fucked out, riding out your orgasm in soft squelches of sweat and cum against trembling fingers.

your timing couldn't have been more perfect. footsteps are padding up the stairs, and the door creaks open with a high shriek that easily snaps you out of your reverie.

and there cove holden stands, face cherry-red and grip on the doorknob white-knuckled. you feign a drowsy blink, sitting up and letting the blanket fall from your shoulders.

cove swallows, hard. "uh- hey. so you, you're busy, and- and i walked in at a really bad time, and so i'm just gonna go soyoucanpretendyouneversawm-"

"cove," you interrupt, voice a breathless sigh as you put on your best pleading face. "please."

a crinkle of your brow, a whine in your tone. "fuck me."

an unintelligible sound leaves him, followed by a tiny, "...okay."

there's little that could delight you more than watching his eyes finally, finally pour over your body as if he'd been holding back, drinking in all of you without so much as a detail spared. his steps as he wobbles towards you are unsteady in gait, not so much as a breath leaving him as he reaches out to you.

"did-" he starts, running his tongue over dry lips before he continues. "did you want me to, um-?"

"yes," you groan, partially out of relief that he finally got the hint and partially out of the need to have this man on you. "please, cove. you've- we've been at this long enough. i don't wanna wait anymore."

as you speak, your feet push off the blanket still draped over your legs. under the dim light of your bedroom, the thin band of silver secured around your ankle glints playfully.

and he notices. he doesn't say anything, but you know he saw it because the shudder that convulses through him is a delicious sight. without a word, he pushes the rest of the blanket aside and lifts the back of your calf with one hand, the other keeping him balanced on the bed as he gazes at the anklet with no little amount of pure want.

"can- can i?" he asks, voice suddenly hoarse. you nod, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but if cove notices then he doesn't mention it as he presses a kiss to the side of your leg, just shy of the jewelry as his lips quiver against your skin.

then his hand finds its way under your foot, pushing your leg back against you just so as he kisses the top of your feet almost reverently. the sight of it sends a shiver through you,

your pussy clenching around nothing as you whine.

your cock throbbing as your fingers curl into the sheets.

watching him at your feet, at your mercy, is almost enough to make you cum on the spot. thankfully, you're able to show a bit of restraint as you remember how to breathe again.

"cove," you murmur, and he blinks up almost lazily at you from where his gaze was once fixed on your jewelry.

"mm?"

"quit making me wait." your voice hardens into something just a little firmer, a slight indicator that you're done playing these games, and you watch him gulp as he nods stiffly.

"okay," he replies, a dry rasp. "can i- um. can i taste you-?"

there we go, your mind practically cries as you nod eagerly, parting your legs in invitation. cove's gaze fixes on your cunt / cock, and you watch as his eyes blow wide. there's the slightest tick in his cheek; his jaw clenching, then unclenching as he draws in an unsteady breath.

"okay," he repeats. "okay."

his head dips low, eyes suddenly fixing on you like a red dot, and his breath ghosts against your inner thighs as he whispers, "are you sure-?"

"cove, for god's sake," you mutter as one hand goes to wind through his hair in a startling show of confidence, "if your mouth isn't on me in the next five seconds, i'm going to fucking ruin you."

cove shivers at that.

"oh- okay, yup, got it, no more talking," he rambles as his hands migrate to lift under your thighs, providing the perfect position for him to eat you out / suck you off. for a moment, he sits there, eyes unmoving from your aching sex, and you begin to wonder if he really isn't going to do anything again after all.

then the flat of his tongue presses against you, dead center, and you choke back a loud moan as your fingers go rigid, fisting into his hair with little of the restraint you used to be so good at.

"ohhhh, fuck- yeah, yeah-" you cry, a guttural sound that leaves him whimpering between your thighs. "more, cove, more, jus' like that-"

cove's tongue wastes no time in diving between your puffy folds, fucking into your soaking cunt with no abandon. loud, unbidden moans vibrate against your clit as his nose presses against it, your juices spilling into his eager mouth without so much as a warning.

cove's mouth, warm and wet and so needy, wraps around the tip of your cock and sinks down onto you, tongue laving over your length as his throat tightens around you. obscene slurping noises fill the somewhat-silence as his nose bumps against your navel.

it takes everything in you not to cum right then and there, one hand tugging at his hair as you grind your sex into his willing mouth. his moans send pulses of need tightening in your stomach, eyes fluttering back as you lose sight of him in favor of the blinding white that bursts in spots behind your eyelids.

"cove, cove, covecovecove-" you sob, fucking into his mouth as your moans break off into high whimpers. "fffffuck, fuck- 'm gonna cum, 'm g'nna- fuck, fuckfuck-"

"mmf- plea'e-" cove mumbles, muffled and hot against your cunt / cock. "cum f'r me, plea- f'ck, please-"

you nod in a frenzy, letting the pleasure consume all your senses as you wail out a loud moan, your orgasm ramming into you like a freight train.

you can't help it - your pussy flutters around his tongue as you squirt down his throat.

your cock slams down his throat without warning as your cum shoots down his mouth.

cove's loud whine is muffled by the press of your sex into his mouth, effectively shutting him up and leaving the room to be filled by your sounds. your hips twitch as you slowly come down from your climax, still canting up into his mouth even as your grip on his hair loosens.

his tongue runs over your cunt / cock as he cleans you up, quiet hums vibrating against you as he slowly pulls back. a hoarse gasp leaves him once he fully tugs himself away from you, brow beading with sweat as he gazes up at you.

"that- was that- did i do...good?" he pants softly, tongue running over his lips. all you can do is nod, feeling the delicious warmth beginning to ebb in favor of reality seeping in.

slowly, you begin to sit up. cove's quick to guide you up, hand splayed against the small of your back as he frets over you. despite the way your heart flutters at the gesture, your mind is focused on something else.

"did you want me to...?" you trail off, eyes glancing down to his pants. cove's face blooms in a pretty flush as he shakes his head.

"i, um- i already..." he mumbles, looking away from your face as the tips of his ears burn. recognition slowly sets in as your eyes widen, and you can't help but laugh as you pull him into you by the shoulders.

"you are so cute," you giggle breathlessly, tucking your face into his shoulder. you feel him relax as his head slumps against you, chest heaving against yours.

"does this, um," he starts, lashes fluttering against your skin as his exhale brushes against the lace on your shoulder. "does this- did this mean anything to...i- i just mean that- did you want to-"

"yes, cove," you murmur, voice buoyed by the sudden warmth that's filled your ribs. "if you'd want to, then i'd like to be more than this. with you."

cove lets out a sound between a sob and a laugh as his arms wrap around you, palms flat against you as he pulls you in close. dampness finds your skin, and you don't have to look at him to know he's crying. your arms wrap around him, cheek pressed against the side of his neck as you beam and murmur to him that you two should probably get cleaned up.

so the saying goes, patience is a virtue; so is ambition.

#❀ ximi writes!#this is my first time writing cove. pls be nice #olba #our life #our life beginnings and always #our life mc #our life cove #our life cove holden #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove x reader #cove x mc #cove our life

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its-ironic-right · 15 days

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Now how about the reverse?

Gideon dying before (maybe while protecting) Kremy.

Sometimes I get prompts that blow way past 500 words…

Where is the line drawn? Mathematically it’s between two points, but who determines those points? What gives them the right to define a beginning and an end?

Let’s simplify.

Life has a determined beginning and end. You’re born, you live, you die. (Well, if you’re lucky you die. Sometimes you just live and that’s so much worse.) The thread of your life held taut between two fingertips. That was a line drawn.

Death comes for us all. As a friend, an enemy, it comes without hesitation. In the smoldering ashes of a burnt out planet, death is the only constant. But death is known to play games. It loves a gamble.

Blasts of white hot magic fly through the air. It hits its mark with a sickening thud, knocking its victim to their knees.

“Shit.” A hissed curse, flesh hitting a wooden dock. Water laps under foot, breaks in the planks reveal white peaks. A heavy current, falling into the drink would mean certain death. Another bolt of magic, missing its target by a hair.

A roaring beast shoots out from thick woods, rending the magic users flesh from bone. Enemy neutralized for now, time to inspect the damage. The party wasn’t completely stupid. An attacker this strong wouldn’t come alone. Nothing to do but run.

“Sound off, who’s unconscious?” Kremy croaked. His ribs were broken, it took twice the effort to breathe or speak. He still needed to know who was left. A groan.

“I’m… okay. Very injured but alive.” Morning Frost was battered and broken, blood caked his fur and everything smelled awful. But conscious. Torbek looked up from his prey.

“Torbek is here. Torbek could definitely be doing better.” slashes oozed deep magenta from his side. That left Gricko and Gideon.

“Oh fuck, where’s our healer?” Kremy searched what was left of the dock. A green arm shot up from under some rubble.

“Here… I’ve got… banañas… one spell slot left.” Not ideal. Goodberries would get them through the night at least. One member left. Kremy’s heart dropped.

“Anyone see Gid?”

There was a peace that came with unconsciousness. A twilight state where nothing hurt, sinking into the bliss of oblivion. Gideon was no stranger to death. They crossed paths countless times, either by his hand or another. He wouldn’t say they were on friendly terms, more like work associates. For all his fire and bravado Gideon had a workman’s attention to detail when it came to destruction. Death was another detail.

He’s in an empty field. Rows of black dirt stretch in either direction. It looks familiar. He picks up a rock and chucks it. It flies in an arch, landing with a ‘thud’ yards away.

“Good arm.” Gideon whips around to see a towering figure of a man. He has a hand Up over his eyes like a visor, peering out to wherever the rock landed. The man looks down and smiles. Gideon is ten years old, his Pa ruffles his hair.

“…Pa?” Pa Coal winks.

“Who else?” He whistles. “Damn Gid, you really did a number on yourself. I thought it’d be another few years before I saw you again.” Gideon looks down. No longer a child but a man. A man with a hole burnt into his chest.

“Oh no, am I dead?”

“Almost dead. You’ve got a few hours before your organs shut down completely.” Pa leans down and picks up a rock. He throws it. It soars through a blue sky and lands farther than Gideons. The prairie didn’t have many ponds for skipping stones, but if you flicked your wrist in just the right way you could watch it skid across dirt. He remembers being a kid, throwing rocks into empty fields and challenging Pa to see how far they could throw them. Pa always had the better pitching arm.

“Almost dead, huh.” He threw another rock. Pa nodded.

“You took a bolt of lightning to the ticker Gid, you should be thankful it’s an ‘almost’ and not a ‘definitely’.” Uncomfortable silence passes between them. Funny how much “almost dead” didn’t bother him. Maybe it was the “almost” part. That meant hope.

“Kremy will figure it out, he always does.”

“You found a good husband, I’m glad.” Gideon blushes and stammers.

“Well, ironically my husband. More like a partner in crime, you know?” Pa slaps a hand on his back and he’s five years old.

A broken plate lays shattered on the floor of their shotgun shack. It was the prettiest thing they owned. Deep purple with scalloped edges trimmed in gold. The gold was flaking and you could barely see the vine motif in the center, but it was the only thing in the shack not meant for work. Gideon had wanted to look at it up close, to trace the lines and curves of snaking green vines. He’d attempted to climb up the shelf, it toppled under his weight. His face falls, what would Pa say when he found out? He can’t find out. Gideon pushes all the pieces into a pile. He’s placing them together like a puzzle, lining the image the best he can, trying like hell to make jagged edges match seamlessly. Tears stream down his face, he can’t let Pa see the plate is broken beyond repair. Tiny fingers coated in porcelain dust and microscopic cuts can’t put it together again. He’ll have to lie.

“The gods did not gift you a silver tongue, son.”

Gideon looks away from the broken plate. Shame crashing into his heart.

“I tried to fix it…”

“You tried to hide it. That’s not the same.”

He remembers being frustrated with the shards, making more and more mistakes until he gives up. He gathers the pieces into a bucket and sneaks out the front door. The plate is missing less than a day before Pa finds it in the tool shed.

Suddenly, pain. Deep, burning into his chest. He gasps and collapses, clutching the hole in his heart.

Its hot. So fucking hot. Is he in an oven? A forge? He opens his eyes again. The train. Of course. Metal stained black with soot, coals smoldering in the boiler, waiting for him to set them alight. He doesn’t have to look down to know what he looks like. The image is seared in his brain forever. A tear rolls down Pa Coal’s weathered cheek.

“The worst part about being dead: you can’t protect the living.” He feels the cuts and burns etched into his skin. This wasn’t right. He’d left the train, killed every mother fucker in the thing and jumped to freedom. This was a vision, it had to be. Gideon wouldn’t stay in hell unless he was dead. “Tell me the truth, son.”

“What the fuck is going on?!” He’s gasping, smoke filling every capillary in his lungs. Choking on every breath.

“You’re dying. Ever heard the phrase ‘life flashing before your eyes’?” Pa’s voice is low and sad. Steam escapes from a smoke stack, a shrill whistle piercing the air. And he can’t fucking breath. “Told you, your organs are failing.”

“Kremy will fix it. I know he will.”

“How do you know?”

“He always does.”

Everything goes dark. His stomach turns, he can breathe. Barely. Everything hurts. He’s discombobulated, soaked to the bone in rain and piss. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know where he is. An alleyway in Agwé, somewhere in the Crawdad Corner. The turning point in his life that made it worth living. He was bruised from some fight, passed out drunk in the rain. He didn’t remember how he got there, fate has a funny way of taking you places you never expect. Eyes still shut, he doesn’t want to see the look on Pa’s face. This is him at his lowest. But he knows what comes next. A whisper in the dark. Pattering rain against pavement nearly drowns it out, little words that create big waves. Eyes open to meet golden eyes. A smile, a handshake, a new life. So quick it almost didn’t happen.

“So that’s him? The man who will save you?” Gideon nods.

“Always does.” Pa Coal chuckles.

The alleyway fades into a tavern. Nondescript people bustle around, ordering drinks between lively conversation. A barmaid whistles a soft tune. Swatting wandering hands and passing mugs of ale. Gideon sips at a whiskey. Warmth fills his belly. Pa leans against the bar facing towards the door, opposite his son. Countless taverns litter his memory, but this one stuck out. A night that lived in his core. Kremy plays cards across the room. He’s winning, he always wins. Even when he loses he somehow comes out on top. It’s easy settling into this moment, nothing hurt. Yet.

“I’ve come close to death loads of times, why am I getting the full treatment this go around?”

“Never this close.” Gideon scoffed. He shot back the whiskey and turned around.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve died before. Or came close.”

“Gideon, you’re dead. Almost. I wouldn’t be here if this wasn’t your brain firing its last synapses.” Grief pangs at his heart. Of course.

“So you’re not really here. Just my brain trying to make sense of everything.” He lights a cigar with his finger. The tavern moves around them. Kremy wins another hand, Gideon can see the losers fist clench under the table. His cue. He crosses the room, The cigar leaving a trail of smoke in his wake. The loser rears his fist, Gideon catches it in his hand. A headbutt and two punches later they’re running out the door. Kremy laughs. /Gid I could kiss you!/ In the fleeting light of passing windows, Kremy shines. For a second, Gideon wishes he would. They duck into an alley, footsteps run past them. Gideon is intimately aware of how close they were. He could do it. Lean in and kiss Kremy, he could blame it on the adrenaline. He could lie.

“Do you love him?” Gideon almost jumps out of his skin. Pa smokes a cigar across the alley.

“Of course. I love him like a brother.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” Something rams itself down his spine, searing every nerve. The scene dissipates. Oblivion engulfs him.

Three.

Two.

One.

His time is up. He can feel it. He wonders what happened. Did everyone die? Or just him?

It’s warm here. He always thought death would be cold. He could fall asleep like this. Although it wouldn’t be sleep. Sleep had an end.

Guess that’s why it was called eternal slumber.

One.

Two.

Three.

Gideon gasps awake. He was alive. The throbbing pain in his chest told him that. Golden eyes rimmed in red stare down at him.

“Gid!” Kremy pulled him close, forehead to snout. Gideons body sprawled out from under the alligator’s grasp. Tears spilled out in streams against scales. “Oh my gods I thought I lost you! Your heart stopped-“ Gideon’s lips met his. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, more weak and desperate than anything. When they broke, Gideon winked.

“I knew you could do it.”

Point A to Point B, but the interesting part was all the twists in between. Who knows who draws the line. So long as they had a sense of humor.

#coalecroux #legends of avantris #once upon a witchlight #gideon coal #kremy lecroux #fanfic #ouaw #forgot to tag this the first time #ask

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istoleyoursk1n · 9 months

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Hello, I saw your requests are open after I read some of your stuff and wanted to give an idea. One thing I don’t see too often in fantasy is anti-magic types so I’d like to request a Tav that is magically blank. What I mean by that is where everyone else either has magic or is effected by it, Tav can be neither of these. Try to hit them with a lightning bolt? Doesn’t work. Illusions? Doesn’t work. Enchantments? Nah. This makes them a terrifying mage hunter that can go toe to toe with many magic creatures and users. Of course they need to work around not being healed by magic as well. (Choose whoever for the characters!)

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would the boys react to a Tav who’s incapable of being harmed by or creating magic?

(If any of you won't see one for the girls, just ask <3)

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“I know I’ve already got the delightfully excellent privilege of looks to me, darling, but damn it all! You’d think those lazing Gods would grant me more than just a dashing face to get me through my troubles too!”

Immediately comes asking how the hell you gained such an ability and if so, how could he get some of that for himself.

He's envious of the fact that nearly all magic seems to have little to zero effects on you. He's far too consumed by the amount of advantages it gives you that he doesn't exactly see the downsides.

I mean, he’s seen you take a fireball to your face and shake it off as if it was nothing. However, the sight of you bleeding out as every magical healing potion and spell does absolutely nothing to aid you ends up being the very thing that makes him wonder if it would be worth it.

But hey! It's rather entertaining for him to watch every foe you encounter gasp in shock when they realize all the magic spells they throw at you do nothing to hinder your each attack.

The funniest thing he saw was someone trying to manipulate you with a charm spell only for you to humiliate them for their obvious attempt.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“By the hells, you’re immune to magic? That’s one darn good of an advantage to have, especially on a journey such as ours. Though, it's a shame that you’ll never get to see the delights that come with it, you would have loved it, I’m sure!”

He wasn't all too bothered by the fact you couldn't create magic. Some people lived all their lives without using them and they still made fine warriors, why should he judge you?

However, he was completely shocked when he first watched a lightning bolt strike your body only for you to shrug it off. You didn't even have the burn marks that would have came from it.

After figuring out your little situation, he was both deeply fascinated and impressed. There's no way anything is stopping either of you now, not when you are immune to nearly all types of magic.

Be prepared because this man does start to give you ridiculous titles over your unique ability. “The anti-magician”, “The impenetrable magic consumer”, it gets worse and worse but it's making you both laugh.

Yet, what he does find quite concerning is the number of times he's witnessed your other companions use you as a personal test dummy in terms of magic-based attacks. He’s always quick to grab you out of those situations even though you were mostly okay with it.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“Immune to magic? Truly? Are you telling me a particularly powerful sorcerer could cast a tremendously potent necrotic spell on you and you’d just... Stand there… with not so much as a bruise? Are you certain you’re from this plane of existence-”

What in the fuck <— His initial reaction lmao

He’s never even seen anything that could resist most if not all magic, even worse that you can't even seem to make it yourslf.

He’s spent the majority of his life so heavily involved with magic and the weave that he could hardly see himself without it, better yet, he doesn't even understand how you live so mundanely.

Heck! Even lower-class citizens could learn magic if not already know how to cast a basic spell or two. Now he has a hundred different questions running through his head and you could probably only answer half of them.

Perhaps he even suspected that you may have just used a multitude of potions of resistance on yourself to turn out this way but if so, the effects should have worn off by now.

Either way, he’s bewildered by you. Intensely interested in how this situation of yours came to be and if there is truly a limit to what magic you can resist. Though, trust that he won't try to experiment on you for himself.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“Ah, though I understand the loss of seizing the art of magic for oneself is rather unfortunate, this only means that perhaps a far more naturalistic path awaits you. One I hope brings nothing but joy and aid in our journey ahead.”

Pleasantly surprised but also curious about it all. When you say all magic do you truly mean all? And if he were to bring a magical flame near your skin, would you feel it's warmth?

Though, he doesn't press on the matter too much. However, there are occasions when he has forgotten about your immunity and ends up shielding you from a magical blast you could have easily taken yourself.

Reflexes perhaps. He’s fairly used to jumping in to protect those he cares for and he does get a tad bit embarrassed over the fact that your magic immunity slipped his mind once or twice due to his own impulses.

Though worry not if magical healing spells or potions don't work on you! He knows plenty of natural ways to heal your wounds. Though it will take significantly longer.

Regardless, he's happy to be of service to you, even teaching you some ways to use herbs and the fauna around you to make a quick remedy to all sorts of wounds so you won't have to ever struggle as much as you did before.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 headcanon #bg3 x reader #bg3 astarion #bg3 wyll #bg3 gale #bg3 halsin #astarion #wyll #gale #halsin

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bagopucks · 1 year

Text

A. Matthews - Winter Flu

✄————————————

Auston Matthews x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning(s): mention of throwing up, reader’s kid is sick, parental insecurities, little bit of angst.

The point of view for this does use you when talking about the reader, simply because this was a request that had more so to do with Auston and Hudson. So I didn’t put it in first person. Also, long as shit, so I proofread ONCE.

Also! With the summer season approaching, those of you who submitted requests with the lake house, and Hughes brothers. Requests that I haven’t gotten to yet. Look forward to those! Once I get past the wisdom teeth surgery, and the end of this senior year. It is solid with the summer content.

—————————————

“I’ll call the school and let them know you’re on your way.”

“They’ll let me pick him up?”

“Yeah. You’ll just have to give your full name and phone number.”

“Do I need an ID?”

“Probably not, Aus. It’s not that formal.”

Auston pulled gently at the dainty silver lightning bolt that hung from his earring. A Christmas gift from the lovely woman he grew so close to. You’d celebrated at home with Auston, and found a nanny to celebrate with his team when he invited you. The holiday had passed, as did New Years, but the decorations in both your and his homes were still up. Auston left his up because Hudson liked to look at them. You left yours up because you didn’t have time to take them down.

He was nervous. It had been the first time you asked him to pick Hudson up from school. But these were special circumstances. The school day was far from over, and Hudson was sick. Auston had to leave his morning skate early to be there, still dressed in a pair of compression pants and shorts, and a black t-shirt with his number on the sleeve. He stepped into the building, and stood by the window that looked into the office. He’d never looked after a sick kid before. Maybe the Marleau boys right after they got over a cold, but never in the midst of sickness.

“Hello. How can we help you today?” An older woman approached the window with a clip board, setting it down on the counter and sliding it through the window as she opened it.

“I’m here to pick up Hudson?” Auston hadn’t even considered using a last name. There was surely only one sick Hudson.

“Right. His mom called and said a friend would be in.”

Auston’s deep brown eyes immediately lifted from the clip board.

“Write your name and number here, and we’ll let you in the office while somebody finds him.”

Auston slowly scrawled his name and number out, sliding the clip board back in the woman’s direction. He would have texted you if you weren’t in the middle of a meeting. Auston stepped into the office when the woman opened the door, finding a seat in one of the plastic chairs.

A second secretary left the office, and Auston was left in an awkward silence, the woman in the room occasionally glancing up at him.

“Are you the kid’s dad?” Such a question surprised and offended him. Auston wasn’t even sure why. Possibly because of the tone in the woman’s voice.

“Kinda? I’ve been with his mom for a while.”

“I wondered.” He tensed, watching her disinterested eyes focus on something else.

Was it an insult? Did it have to do with the last name thing? Or the simple fact that he wasn’t related? He hated to think it would have been anything else. Auston’s jaw set, and for a moment he considered telling the woman off. He could recall the endless amounts of times his mother had never taken such disrespect. Even his father. But he refrained.

The second secretary entered the office soon after, with Hudson, sluggishly following behind.

“Mom?” He had called before his eyes even left the floor. His need for his mother made Auston feel even less prepared than before. He didn’t have the qualifications for this.

“Mom’s in a meeting, bud.” Auston gained Hudson’s attention, watching the boy’s eyes widen. Hudson sniffled and quickly walked over to hug Auston. He looked pale, but flushed in the cheeks. And he certainly felt warm.

“I wanna go home.” Hudson whined softly, and Auston slowly guided him back a few steps so he could stand up.

“That’s where we’re headed, little man.” He put his hand out, and Hudson quickly held onto it. “I’ll take your bag.” Auston held his other hand out, and took hold of Hudson’s book bag after the boy shimmied it off. “Thanks, guys.” Auston was swift to speak to the secretaries before he led Hudson out of the office and eventually out of the school building all together.

“How long is mom in a meeting?”

“Probably another hour or so. It’s just you and me for a bit. Your mom said you got sick?”

“Yeah.” Hudson sounded as exhausted as he looked. Once they got to his car, Auston tossed the boy’s bag in the back and helped him hop in and get buckled.

“If you need to throw up, you let me know, okay?” Hudson merely nodded, leaning back into the seat to get comfortable. If he wasn’t sick, his first complaint would have been about the lack of a car seat. But everything had happened so swiftly that morning, that there wasn’t really time for meeting up and taking the one out of your car. Perhaps it was just time to get one of his own.

Auston carefully shut the car door and walked around to the front, sliding in and turning the key in the ignition.

“Do you wanna listen to anything?”

“Uncle Mitchy’s music.” Hudson spoke softly. Auston hated to admit it, but he was always a little jealous of Mitch for getting the title of ‘uncle.’ Auston was patient. He knew Hudson was the only person who could grant him the title of, ‘father,’ but he hoped his face would light up the same way Mitch’s had. He hoped he’d feel that same overwhelming excitement.

Auston connected his phone to the car and opened Spotify to find Mitch’s profile and public playlists. One labeled ‘kiddos’ that he used around Patty’s kids, and Hudson. A plethora of music that ranged from Baby Shark to Kids Bop and Disney. Auston hated Baby Shark, but not near as much as Hudson did. So when that song came on, he skipped it swiftly.

“Can I lay down when we get home?”

Auston glanced in the rear view mirror as he backed out of his parking space.

“For sure, bud. Whatever you want.”

“Do you have Gatorade?”

Oh boy.

“No, sorry. We can check your mom’s fridge though.”

“I really want Gatorade.” Auston could hear the quiver in Hudson’s voice as he pulled out onto the road. The drive back to your place was short, and he was thankful for that. But he was more so worried about the protocol for not having something the kid wanted. Did you go out and get it? Was he supposed to call you? What if Hudson didn’t want an alternative?

When he pulled into the driveway, Auston was quick to park the car and hop out, opening Hudson’s back door to see the kid hunched over and asleep.

“Hudsy,” Auston carefully nudged him. Hudson winced, but his eyes fluttered open. He looked in distress for a moment before his face twisted into discomfort. Auston unbuckled the seatbelt and held his arms out. Hudson quickly moved to the edge of the seat and allowed Auston to pick him up. Once they got inside, Auston set Hudson down. He kicked his shoes off and considered his next options. Hudson quickly walked over to the couch to sit down, curling in on himself.

“You okay, bud?” Hudson merely nodded, and despite Auston’s uncertainty, he decided to go with it. Just for a moment.

Auston slipped down the hall into the boy’s room. He grabbed a blanket off the bed and a little dinosaur stuffed animal. As well as finding a pair of shorts and a comfy shirt Hudson could change into. Comfort always came first when sick. Auston walked back out into the living room, tossing the items onto the love seat before slipping off into the kitchen.

He barely had any more time to think before Auston heard a familiar shuffling in the living room. And heavy footsteps pattering down the hall. He was swift to follow.

“Hudson?” Auston had just barely made it into the bathroom, when the boy started to throw up. His initial reaction was to groan and look away, but Auston had to remind himself he was the adult in this situation.

“It’s okay. Just- you just gotta.. let it out.” His disgust shifted into immediate concern when he heard the quiet cries from the boy. Auston’s brow furrowed, slowly stepping into the bathroom. He grabbed a paper towel when Hudson finally sat on the floor, his body trembling from the exertion, but finally able to relax for a moment. Auston swiftly sat on the floor next to him, taking up most if not all of the space in the tiny bathroom.

“Here,” he held out the paper towel, and Hudson slowly took it, wiping his face and tossing the towel in the trash beside the toilet. Hudson leaned his head against the side of the toilet bowl, gross any other day, but Auston was a kid once too. He knew how easy it was to forget about everything else in the midst of sickness. A cold surface was a cold surface, and it was easing on a raging temperature.

“I want mom,” Hudson’s quiet voice quivered and squeaked, tears falling down his cheeks at a rapid pace. Auston’s chest tightened. He wasn’t cut out for this.

“I’m sorry.” It was a scary feeling, wanting to help somebody and not feeling equipped to do so. Especially when it was the kid you’d grown so close to.

“Please call my mom.” Auston hated hearing those words every time they were spoken, because there was nothing he could do.

“I can’t, Hudsy. She’s busy. I promise she’ll be home soon.” Auston carefully reached out to rest a hand on the boy’s back. Hudson shrugged him off and looked away.

“Hudson.” Auston spoke gently, earning the boy’s gaze. “Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, but he could tell he struck a nerve when Hudson began to cry harder. The little boy inched across the floor to hug Auston, sobbing into his shoulder. It was the first time he’d been sick without his mother. The first time she hadn’t had to leave work to pick him up. Hudson didn’t know how to feel.

“Can you tell me what your mom does when you get sick?”

Auston may not have been the most experienced with kids, but he was still smart.

Hudson wiped the tears from his cheeks, the quiet sporadic breaths interrupting his attempts to speak.

“Take your time.” Auston encouraged gently, rubbing the boy’s back. They sat quietly for a few minutes before Hudson managed to calm down. Exhaustion filled his red eyes, slowly pulling his head out of Auston’s shoulder.

“She lets me lay on the couch.. and I have stuff to drink. And she puts on tv.” He sniffled.

“What do you like to watch?” Auston asked as he brought a hand up to wipe the tears from Hudson’s cheeks.

“Spider-Man.”

“What? No way!” Auston feigned excitement. “Me too.” Maybe not the cartoon Spider-Man, but he grew up with the old movies.

“Really?” Hudson winced, one of his hands holding his stomach. Auston took notice of the action, continuing to rub the kid’s back.

“Yup. I have some stuff for you to change into, that’s a little more comfortable. And I got you a blanket and a stuffed animal. How’s that sound?”

“Good.” Hudson swallowed and nodded.

“I’ll go get your clothes, and you can change in here.” Auston stood up, quick to flush the toilet before he slipped out of the bathroom. He walked back down the hall to the living room, grabbing the change of clothes and turning to go back in the direction he came. He smiled softly at the sight of Hudson standing in the hall, waiting for him.

“Can you stay out here while I change?” Hudson slowly took the clothes from Auston’s hands. The hockey player nodded.

“I’ll be right outside the door.” Hudson slipped back into the bathroom at the promise. He pushed it halfway shut, and Auston leaned back against the wall opposite of the bathroom, waiting patiently. When Hudson came back out, he rubbed at his eyes and looked toward Auston expectantly.

“Where’s your other clothes?” Auston questioned.

“On the floor.” Hudson’s response earned a quiet chuckle from the man. He’d pick up the clothes later.

Auston led Hudson back down the hall, grabbing the blanket and the stuffed animal from the love seat.

“Go ahead and get comfy on the couch.” He watched Hudson climb up and lay down. Auston quickly draped the blanket over him, tucking the bottom under the boy’s feet and dropping the dinosaur stuffed animal on his chest. It earned a quiet and weak giggle from Hudson.

“We need one more thing.” Auston reached for the throw pillow at the opposite end of the couch. “Pick your head up.” Hudson did as told, sighing quietly after Auston slipped the pillow behind his head.

“Alright. I’m gonna go grab you something to drink.”

“You’ll be back?” Hudson asked quietly.

“I promise.” Auston slipped into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and rummaged through it before he found Sprite. Not Gatorade, but still good for sickness. He found a plastic cup to pour it in, with a few ice cubes. He popped a lid on the cup and found a straw, slipping it through the hole. Auston walked back into the living room, placing the cup down on the coffee table.

“Thanks, Aus.” Hudson whispered. Auston hated how miserable he sounded.

“No problem, dude.” He reached for the tv remote and turned the tv on. Auston flipped through various channels before he found Disney. “Spider-Man comes on after Frozen.”

Hudson whined out a complaint.

“I know, but I don’t think there’s much left of this movie.” Auston set the remote down.

“Can you sit?” Hudson whispered.

“On the couch?”

“No.. right here.” Hudson pointed to the floor by his head. “Please.” Auston made his way over and sat on the floor. He leaned back against the couch, his head resting on the front of the arm. Hudson let out a sigh before his hand rested on Auston’s shoulder.

“Mommy usually cleans.” He mumbled. “So nobody else gets sick.” Auston raised a brow.

“Do you want me to clean?” He turned his head to peek at Hudson.

“No. Just sit with me.” Auston nodded and slipped his phone from his pocket. He hadn’t heard from you. He set the device aside and reached a hand up to rest on the one Hudson placed on his shoulder.

“You’re gonna be alright, I promise. You just need a little time.”

“Auston?”

“What’s up?” Silence followed as Auston’s eyes settled on the tv, brow risen in expectancy. Waiting for Hudson to talk, but he never did. “Hudson?” Auston turned his head to look at the kid, who avoided eye contact. “What’s goin on, Buddy?”

“Don’t be mean, okay?” To say Auston was surprised was an understatement.

“I’d never. You know that.” He squeezed Hudson’s hand.

“Can I sit with you?”

“Yeah, come on.” Auston swiftly tugged the blanket off Hudson. He couldn’t imagine ever saying no or being mean about such a question. The boy needed comfort, and he was certain he could provide.

Hudson slowly slid off the couch, holding onto his dinosaur. He sat on the floor next to Auston and immediately leaned into his side while Auston wrapped the blanket around his legs.

“Better?” Auston whispered after Hudson got comfortable. The boy nodded. Auston draped an arm over his shoulders.

“Can I have my drink?”

“It’s not Gatorade, but it’s sprite.”

“That’s okay.” Hudson held his hands out as Auston grabbed the cup and handed it over. The boy took a few sips before he set the cup on the coffee table within reach. Auston felt Hudson heave out a breath, the kid’s full weight resting on his side. He peeked down at Hudson a few times to see his face focused on the tv. He may have gotten sick of Frozen from watching it all the time, but the boy still loved watching Elsa sing. He said she sounded like his mom. Auston didn’t quite believe it until he heard you sing Hudson to sleep one night.

Auston smirked the moment he heard Hudson’s soft whispers, quiet mumbled words following the tune on the tv. He moved his arm to rest on the couch cushion behind them, carefully smoothing down Hudson’s hair. He didn’t know what else to do other than let him rest. Soon, Hudson’s whispered words ceased, and he fell asleep.

Auston didn’t move. He didn’t want to. He was comfortable and happy where he was. It was an odd thing to be happy about, but he wanted to have these moments. He wanted to feel like Hudson was his kid. You only called because it was an emergency, but to know he was trusted with something like this, it made him happy. To take that stress off your shoulders, and to know a kid trusted him as much as he trusted his mother.

Auston lost track of the time as he sat there. His body started to ache, but he kept himself distracted with texting and watching whatever he could find in the tv. He was hopeful that Hudson had gotten whatever out of his system, seeing as he hadn’t woken up with any nausea. And you did say he didn’t stay sick long when he was throwing up, but Auston tried not to get too ahead of himself.

He felt far less worried when he heard the sound of a car door in the front drive. Auston sat up, placing his phone aside in hopes of greeting you from the floor. You opened the door slowly, stepping inside and wincing when your purse clinked against the door. Your eyes met Auston’s before trailing toward Hudson. It was relieving to see Auston had seemingly handled the situation well.

“He’s out?” You asked softly.

“Definitely.”

“If you give me like.. five minutes? I’ll change and put my stuff away, and you can go.”

Auston’s brow furrowed.

“I can stay.”

“Are you sure?” You pushed the door shut, slipping your flats off. Over time, you’d gotten much less argumentative over Auston’s consistent offers to be present.

“Yeah. He said you usually clean. If you want, you can come sit with him and I’ll clean.” You smiled and shook your head.

“He looks too comfy. I’ll clean real quick.” He didn’t touch much this morning, so it’ll be fast.” Auston nodded and flashed you a quick smile.

“Did he throw up at all when you brought him home?”

“Just once.”

“Alright.” Your eyes lingered on Hudson. “We’ll see how he feels when he’s up, and maybe I’ll make some soup.”

You couldn’t have been more grateful for the assistance. Able to clean without having to worry about Hudson waking up alone or getting sick without anybody around.

Another hour passed before you were carefully shaking Hudson awake, a sad sigh falling from your lips at the sight of his exhaustion.

“Momma?”

“I’m here.” You whispered, running a hand through his hair. Auston smiled at the simple interaction.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

“Okay.”

“Your stomach?”

“Okay.” Hudson shrugged.

“You wanna try to eat? And we can watch a movie?”

“Yeah.”

You and Auston shared looks before you stood to slip into the kitchen.

“Auston?”

“Still here.” Hudson reached out to grip the sleeve of Auston’s shirt, yawning and leaning back into his side.

“Why don’t you get up on the couch?”

“Pick me up?” Hudson peeked up at Auston, mustering up a pouty face.

“Fine.” Auston smirked, slowly standing up. He leaned forward and scooped Hudson up, setting him down on the couch. Hudson curled up beneath his blanket, setting his dinosaur aside.

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“You mind if I go see your mom real quick?”

Hudson huffed and rolled his eyes. He had his mother’s sass even when he wasn’t feeling the best.

“I’ll allow it.”

Auston feigned shock before laughing quietly. His amusement brought a prideful smile to Hudson’s lips. He still looked exhausted and small, but he was feeling good enough for a bit of humor.

“Not too long though.” Hudson pointed a finger at him.

“Yes, sir.” Auston teased before he left the living room. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen for a moment before he made his way over to the stove where you stood.

“Goin’ good in here?” You jolted, almost hitting Auston before you turned to him.

“Jesus, Aus!” He shushed you immediately, laughing quietly.

“Sorry, sorry.” You smiled. “Shouldn’t you be watching a kid?”

“He told me I could come see you.”

“Oh he told you.” You taunted softly.

“He’s pretty gracious, actually.”

The both of you laughed softly, and you watched as Auston folded his arms across his chest, leaning his hip against the counter.

“What are you making?”

“Chicken soup.”

“Smells good.”

“It’s canned.” You shrugged, “nothing homemade.”

“My mom used to add paprika and garlic powder when I was sick. She said it helped.”

“I have a feeling Hudson won’t like paprika.” You laughed. Auston shrugged and reached for your arm.

“It did help though.” Auston informed you as he ran his hand up your arm, carefully stepping behind you to rub your shoulder.

“That feels nice.”

“We should go out soon.”

“I think for now we should just worry about Hudson.”

“That’s fine. I’m just bringing it up.” Auston brought his other hand to the opposite shoulder. Despite his words, you knew his persuasive methods.

“If you can find a babysitter, we’ll discuss it.” You entertained the idea.

“What about the woman that usually does it?Danielle?”

“She’s busy these next few weeks.”

“Mitch?” Auston tried.

“Will Steph be there?”

“That’s a fair point. I’ll have to ask when we decide a day.”

“If Steph isn’t there, I don’t think I fully trust Mitch with my kid.”

“Yeah me either.” Auston pressed a kiss to your head, pulling away at the sound of his name from the other room.

“Times up, Cinderella.” You teased, waving your hand in a dismissive manner.

“You almost done?”

“Soon, Aus. Go find a movie for us to watch.”

Auston nodded and slipped out of the kitchen.

“Alright, Hudsy. What movie do you wanna watch?” Hudson patted the empty space on the couch next to himself. Auston quickly sat down. Hudson handed his dinosaur over.

“Can you hold him?”

“Sure.” Auston tucked the green Dino between his arm and his hip as he picked up the tv remote from the floor, then the second remote for the streaming services.

“You wanna pick a movie?”

“Can we watch Cars?”

“Absolutely.” Auston worked on finding the movie while you finished the soup, pouring it into three separate bowls before carrying the first two into the living room. A plastic one for Hudson, and a glass one for Auston.

“Thanks, momma.”

“Yeah, this is awesome.” Hudson always had manners, but you liked to think Auston’s example helped solidify them. Auston’s example helped with a lot of things.

“I’ll be right back.” You disappeared back into the kitchen to grab your own bowl with a few paper towels. When you came back into the living room, you set the items on the coffee table, and walked over to the lights to shut them off. In turn, you flicked the lamp by the couch on.

“You still feeling okay, Hudson?” You asked as he sipped on a spoonful of soup.

“I think so.”

“Just don’t eat too fast, okay?” You added swiftly, and he nodded. You sat down on the couch opposite of Auston, Hudson in between.

“Do you care if your dinosaur sits on top of the couch for now?” Auston asked, “just while I eat?”

Hudson seemed to contemplate the idea before nodding, and Auston set the dinosaur on the top of the couch behind his head.

“Don’t let him fall.” Hudson spoke softly, glancing up at Auston.

“I won’t.” Auston pressed play on the streaming remote.

It only took Hudson a few minutes to eat what he wanted. After that, he’d asked you to set his bowl aside, and you did. He waited for you to finish eating before curling up against your side.

“Still feeling good?” You asked as you ran a hand over his hair.

“Yeah.” He paused. “Auston?”

“Sup?”

“Come on.” Hudson waved for him to come closer. Auston smiled and quickly closed the space between himself and the duo. Hudson got comfortable between the two adults, and Auston tossed his arm over the couch, his hand just barely resting on your shoulder.

“Am I going to school tomorrow?” Hudson asked, peeking up at you.

“It’s probably a good idea to keep you home and make sure you’re okay.”

“I thought you worked tomorrow?” Auston chimed in.

“I can do my stuff from home. But a sidekick is always welcome if you have time before your game.”

“Definitely.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews blurb #auston matthews #auston matthews imagine

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yuna542 · 1 year

Text

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 7<-

Part 8

Pairing: Chan x reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, Smut, under 18 DNI!, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, unprotected sex (just don‘t), daddy kink, praising, pet names

Word Count: 3.8k

(Had to reupload this part, cause Tumblr wouldn’t let me edit it)

Note: Here you go, you thirsty little creatures! God I love my readers xD hope you like my twisted little fantasies. I love reading all your comments and requests. Also suddenly I‘m married to several people because of this story. So thank you… I guess ~much love!

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

"Did you see that, hyung? That asshole just wanted to get into her pants!", Seungmin snapped as Mr. Jang left the room.

You were still packing up your things and waiting for someone to pick you up to be taken outside. As soon as you had been alone, Seungmin had jumped up and his suppressed anger had just poured out of his eyes.

"It's okay, guys. He will fund your project and that's the most important thing", you dismissed it and shoved your Ipad into your bag. You were just tired and disgusted. But you had reached your goal and that's what you were here for.

Briefly, you looked at the card in your hand, which had the rich man's number on it. But before you could put it into your bag, Chan snatched it out of your hand.

"No way! We'll get the money anyway. You won't sell yourself for it!", he said, and now the friendly mask fell. You only now noticed how angry he really was.

His hand was clenched into a fist and his jawline twitched tensely as he had to restrain himself from smashing any of the ugly decorations in the room into a thousand pieces. Chan was incredibly intimidating when he was angry, you just realised.

"Maybe he really just wants to drink coffee and talk about business", you tried to calm him down, but Chan shook his head and his eyes shot lightning bolts. That protective side to them both made your heart flutter.

"Didn't you see him staring at your tits the whole time? He wants you naked in his bed, nothing else", Chan spat out and you couldn't help but stare at him. His muscles tensed dangerously under his shirt as he tore up the card and threw it emphatically into the trash can right next to the desk. He was incredibly sexy when he was angry, and that realisation was a bit strange.

Seungmin also ran a tense hand through his hair and growled: "That fucker... I would have loved to punch that asshole in the face when he stared at you so greedily."

"Let's just get out of here", you said, now that you were getting heated by their protective presence. The way the guys cared about you was way too attractive and you automatically imagined Seungmin choking your neck with his bare hands instead of the back of the chair and immediately your knees went weak.

On the way back, Seungmin's hand was on your thigh again, only this time not gently and lovingly. His grip was harsh and he grabbed your inner thigh so tightly throughout the ride that it made you dizzy.

Only when you got out of the Uber you could breathe a sigh of relief. His fingers had left red marks on your leg. as well as a burning sensation in your lower abdomen.

Just as you walked through the entrance of the JYP building, you got a call from one of the company's executives.

Nervously, you answered the phone and indicated to the guys with a wave to go ahead without you.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Y/L/N. We already heard that the conversation with Mr. Jang went very well."

The older woman's voice was unfamiliar to you, but you knew exactly who she was. Mrs. Chung was a very big deal at JYP and mainly handled the hiring and matters of the staff, as well as all social media matters.

„Yes. He even plans to fund more projects as well", you said, stopping in front of the elevator so you could speak in peace.

"That sounds like a big success. Very good! But I'm actually calling about something else. Could you come to my office on floor three?"

Your heart slipped into your pants and you nodded until you remembered that she couldn't see you.

„I'm already in the building. I'm on my way", you said and by then she had hung up.

You went up to the third floor, your heart pounding, unable to imagine what she wanted to discuss with you.

In front of the office you took a deep breath and knocked. Immediately you were called in and the woman, who reminded you strongly of a librarian with her kind eyes and pinned up hair, smiled delightedly.

So it couldn't be anything too bad, could it?

After a brief greeting, she offered you to sit down. She closed the laptop that was in front of her and folded her arms on the table. Then she pushed her black glasses on her head and said:

"Have you settled in well with us yet?"

"Yes. I really like it a lot."

"That's nice. I hear you're a great asset to Stray Kids. There haven't been any problems since you've been here."

„I try my best!", you assured her, almost bursting with curiosity by now.

"Were there many problems before?", you asked curiously and she chuckled slightly.

You know the boys by now. So far no one has been able to tame them...“

She sighed like an overworked mother and shook her head.

"I saw that you're a talented dancer and have done a stream about that with Hyunjin“, she began then and you restlessly kneaded your hands in your lap.

"I'm very sorry if I wasn't allowed to do that... We thought the fans would like it."

Quickly, Mrs. Chung waved a hand in the air as if to scare away the misunderstanding like an insect.

"Oh it did! We had four times the number of viewers and got many new followers in addition just because of the stream. Also the little private moments in the videos and vlogs that go viral between you and the guys inspires speculation. That polarizes and brings attention. It's beneficial for JYP and Stray Kids as long as it doesn't get too much."

The last sentence was accompanied by a warning look and you pressed your lips together.

"Understood."

Of course, they were going to use the attention you brought them. Obviously, it was your luck that the fans reacted so positively to you and shipped you with the guys rather than hating you.

"But that's not the point at all. Bang Chan approached us with a request and we decided to give you a platform."

"What?"

Completely irritated, you clawed at the tabletop.

"You are allowed to upload streams or dance covers as part of JYP and Stray Kids, if you want to. It's really important to us to promote talent."

She pulled out a sheet of paper and placed it in front of you with a pen. It had your name written on it, and it was actually an employment contract. You could hardly believe your luck. This had always been your dream.

What had Chan done now? How did he know that you always wanted to share your talent with the world? This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"If you sign the contract, we'll cover all the costs for future projects."

"Projects?"

You were starting to feel stupid for all the questions, but it was too surreal to believe.

"The fans want to see more of you. So we're giving it to them. JYP gets 30 percent of the revenue, and in exchange you get to publish through the official channel, as well as your own JYP Instagram account that we give you. What you do with that is up to you. However, it must not affect your work as the manager of Stray Kids.“

Now you were speechless.

"Are we agreed?", she asked with an amused smile.

"Yes, thank you very much. I don't even know what to say", you said, unable to suppress the wide smile.

"Don't thank us. Bang Chan brought it up to us and pointed out what an advantage you would be to JYP entertainment if you were allowed to show your face. And of course your skills."

This man always managed to surprise you. Without further ado, you signed the contract and clarified a few more questions. You would receive access to your account in the next few days and if you wanted to release a dance cover, you simply had to send the video to Mrs. Chung and she would publish it on the official JYP Entertainment YouTube channel.

Completely flabbergasted, you walked out of the room and without another thought, your legs carried you to Chans studio. Your heart almost burst with joy and you pushed the door open without knocking.

You couldn't wait, you had to see him and thank him. Actually, you had no idea what you were about to do. Your mind went blank and you just wanted to see his face.

Alarmed, he jumped up from his chair. He was working on a beat again and looked at you in amazement when you just came rushing into the room.

"Y/N? Are you all right?", he asked, unable to get another word out as you had already thrown yourself at him. He stumbled back a few steps as he caught you, but then held you tightly as you pressed your lips wildly to his.

The kiss was messy and you pulled his body closer to yours. Immediately his hands were on your hips and even though you completely surprised him, he kissed you back with the same intensity.

Your hands wandered into his hair, running through his curls and tugging lightly on them. His cinnamon-y smell mixed with his spicy cologne completely filled your perception and you immediately wanted more.

When you broke away from him, he looked at you like a deer in headlights.

"What was that for?", he asked with a puzzled look on his face, not letting go of you.

You clasped your hands in his neck and he warmed as you looked at him through your thick lashes with those sparkling eyes.

"I just went to Mrs Chung.... Why are you always so damn nice to me?", you asked desperately, pressing your body against his.

You could feel his strong torso against your chest and wanted to explore each of his muscles with your fingers.

He enjoyed your body heat and casually let his fingers brush over the thin fabric of your dress.

"Because you deserve it."

"Channie this has always been my dream. To dance and show it to the world.... How did you know?"

An embarrassed laugh escaped him, and his dimples charmed you all over again.

"Hyunjin told me how good you are at dancing, Felix and Jeongin came up with the idea. I just made it happen."

You realized once again how lucky you were to have gotten this job. To meet the boys who made your life so much better.

He dreamily examined your body and enjoyed how you trembled under his touch.

All day long he had wanted to tear your dress off and when the rich asshole had stared at you so lustfully, he would have loved to fuck you on his desk in front of his eyes so that the guy would understand who owned you and what he would never get.

These extreme thoughts had surprised him himself, but when you were around, he just couldn't help himself.

"I want to show you how grateful I am", you suddenly said then, pulling him closer by his belt.

Chan watched your expression as you seductively bit your lower lip and undid his belt buckle. It was too much for him.

Your dress hugged your breasts perfectly and your pretty face, with intense eyes gave him the rest. Before he could stop you, you pressed your lips on his again, sliding your tongue into his mouth and he jumped at it like a needy puppy.

Your fingers undid the buttons of his shirt so quickly that he exhaled loudly as your cool fingers suddenly stroked his bare abs.

He hadn't expected you to be so boisterous and dominant, and it only fueled his lust for you even more.

While you slowly slide to your knees, you spread kisses all over his firm abs and his skin tasted addicting. It tasted deliciously sweet and savory at the same time.

Immediately he threw his head back and enjoyed every touch of your full lips on his skin. When he managed to look at you again, something exploded in his head.

You on your knees, in that tight dress, looking at him through your thick lashes with that greedy look on your pretty face, made his length in his pants become painfully hard and by now he couldn't stand the friction against the fabric of his pants.

"Really? Here? With me?", escaped him and you smiled such a beautiful smile that he had to control himself not to bend you over his table immediately.

"As the leader, you have the right to claim me first."

'I'm the first of us?", he asked with a calm rasp, in his voice. You nodded and stuck your fingers in his waistband.

"The first to fuck me. I want you to be."

"God…“

That sentence with your soft voice was enough to make his impatience win.

"Shit, babe I can't wait", he hissed as you pulled down his pants.

He grabbed you by the sides to drag you back up to him. Even though he would have loved to feel your lips around his hard cock, by now he was sure he wouldn't last that long.

He lifted you onto the edge of the table with ease. He pushed your legs apart and pulled you closer again by your face before kissing you.

The kiss was more sensual and deeper than anything you had experienced before and you melted in his firm grip.

He slid your dress over your hips and then took it off completely. Briefly, he took a few seconds to just look at you.

"Fuck... You're so fucking beautiful."

His voice deepened with each word and the excitement in his eyes gave you goosebumps.

Immediately he kissed your neck, sucked on it and cupped your breasts with his big hands until you whimpered with desire.

He looked up at you and put a hand on the clasp of your bra.

"May I?"

You nodded, your head already spinning and he was still the respectful gentleman. With a tight smile from him, your bra landed somewhere in the room and he took one of your nipples into his mouth.

He kneaded your other breast until you couldn't take it anymore and rubbed your soaked core against the bulge in his boxers.

He let his fingers brush over the wet spot in your panties and expelled his hot breath against your skin.

"You're going to keep that pretty mouth shut. Understood? Otherwise we will be caught."

He pulled back, looking at you nod furiously.

You were still at the company and if you would get caught, you would probably loose your job and Chan would be in big trouble.

Unfortunately that risk made it even more exiting.

He turned you around, pushed carelessly his holy laptop and the recording equipment away and bent you over his desk in one swift motion. Slowly he circled your clothed clit with his thumb, what made you whimper underneath him.

"Fuck you're so soaked...“

He grabbed the flesh of your asscheek with one hand and pushed his thumb even harder onto your clit.

Immediately you moaned and arched your back.

"What did I say?", he questioned, covering your mouth with one hand and bluntly pulled your panties to the side pumping his finger into you making you gasp against his hand. Electric shocks pierced your body with each reentry of his finger.

"Already this loud with just a finger? How am I going to fuck you?", he groaned into your ear.

His raspy voice sent chills down your spine, you've never seen this side of him before. So dark and dominant. It made you even more aroused.

"Channie, please...", you whimpered with your fingernails digging into his desk.

"Do you want me to fuck you, babygirl? Say it!"

His demanding tone made you squirm and you pushed your throbbing core at him.

"Yes, please. Fuck me, Channie!"

"Good girl", he smiled, as he ripped down your panties to the ground.

He lined himself up behind you to enter you. Teasingly he slid his tip along your folds and you rubbed yourself against him. With one hand he pushed you down to the table and the other hand grabbed your hips, as he moaned, pushing himself in:

"Fuck you're tight."

You gasped, as he stretched you out and clenched your teeth, as he didn't slow down while pushing his length into you.

Because at this point there is no doubt about it. Chan doesn't just have Big Dick Energy. Oh he is big.

So big that you almost fainted. And he knew exactly how you would feel it all.

After he managed to bury himself entirely into your pussy, he began to shove himself into you. After a few thrusts, that made you feel like he would rip you apart, the sensation was feeling more pleasure than pain, although he slid every time deeper inside you.

He soon speeded up his pace, hitting all your sweet spots making you pornographically moan.

The room was filled with the sounds of your whimpers, his growls, and the slapping of skin, as he pushed your hip with each thrust rougher against him and fucked you hard against his desk.

You could see your reflection in the dark screen of his computer and almost blushed because of the fucked out expression on your face.

He carried on fucking you senseless from behind and didn't stop a second. You moaned his name several times, which made him slam even harder into your wet core.

You whined, as your body began to tense around him.

"Are you going to cum?", he asked grabbing your arms and pushing them behind you to hold your wrists with just one hand fiercely pressed against your back.

"Not yet!", he ordered, as he managed to fuck even deeper inside you. Without your hands you were completely at his mercy and your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as you tried to stop yourself from coming.

"Channie, please... I can't... You're so big...“

Slowly tears were welling up in your eyes and oh he loved your desperate begging.

"Please. Daddy."

The words escaped you with a sob unaware and released by Chans dominant behaviour.

"Holy fuck...", he let out and you obviously found a secret trigger that made him go feral. Grabbing your hands tighter he slammed into you and pushed you up the table. He watched your boobs bounce with every move.

"You want to cum for daddy, babygirl?", he growled at you.

"Yes", you cried.

"Daddy, please! Let me come!"

Just as you thought, that was enough to push him over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum."

His thrusts became sloppier, dick twitching inside you.

"Come with me, baby!", he let out before he spilled himself inside you. And you did. Your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami and left you with trembling legs and faltering breath.

As you both came down from your high, he pulled himself out of you and turned you around, to lift you on the table again. He grabbed a tissue box and cleaned you and himself up.

"Are you okay?", he asked and the sweet and charming Chan was back. You had now idea what just happened.

Exhausted you could only nod and Chan smiled softly as he gave you a sweet kiss on the lips and gently wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb.

"Your fucked out face is so pretty", he teased and pulled you into his arms until he was sitting in his chair again, you on his lap, stroking your back affectionately.

You locked at him with a wondering smile.

"Never thought you would be so dirty... Daddy", you teased him.

"Hah", he chuckled and wrapped his big arms tighter around your body.

"Just a little."

Oh after what you just experienced, he wasn't just a little dirty. That boy had a kink that you wouldn't have expected. And of course he fucked you better than anyone before.

Later that day, after you've gotten dressed again and slipped into your office like nothing ever happened, Chan joined the others in the dance studio to practice the choreography.

He was the last one and started to sit down on the floor next to Lee Know to follow his example and stretch.

Jeongin and Hyunjin were already standing in front of the mirror going through the first steps, while Han, Seungmin and Changbin sat on the couch, talking quietly and waiting until they could finally start.

Felix came over to Chan and offered to help him and so they stretched together, Felix pushing Chan's legs apart with his.

"Why are you so late? We wanted to start an hour ago", Hyunjin asked and Chan tried to avoid eye contact and focus on the pain in his legs so as not to give himself away immediately.

The conversation between Han and Seungmin fell silent and Chan only said:

"I had something else to do.“

Then Han and Changbin suddenly giggled and poked each other as if they were sharing a naughty secret.

"Oh you definitely had something to do!", said Han with a grin. The others all looked at him now.

"It definitely sounded from outside the door like that too!", added Changbin and both giggled again.

That's when Chan slowly realized it. He remembered the message from Han on his phone, where he had written to him that he would not come to the studio beforehand.

The message came while he was busy fucking you from behind, so he didn't think much of it.

As Chan still stared in confusion, Changbin began to moan in a high-pitched voice:

"Daddy, please! Oh, fuck me daddy!"

Han immediately joined in by slapping his hand on his thigh to imitate the sound and also repeating the naughty words Chan had heard from you only minutes before.

"Chan fucked Y/N in the studio?", shouted Hyunjin and by now Han and Changbin were holding their stomachs laughing as Chan buried his face in his hands and shook his head.

The others also smirked and couldn't help but tease their leader as well.

As Han slowly regained his breath, he explained:

„We went to pick up Chan, and just as we were standing right outside the door, that's when we heard how hard he was really working.“

The sarcasm was unmistakable and Felix now had to hold a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Even Jeongin couldn't help but annoy Chan:

„The walls are probably not as soundproof as we thought.“

"I didn't know you were into that kind of stuff, Hyung", Seungmin chuckled and Lee Know joined in with an evil grin:

"Or should we call you daddy now too? Would you like that, hyung?"

By now his face was burning and he just wanted to run away.

"Can we just start practicing? Please?", Chan asked sheepishly, and they did.

However, not without teasing him about it all evening.

->Part 9

——————————————————————-

Taglist (closed):

@poisonivy21 @elizalabs3 @chartrucewhore @smutlemononeshot @hgema @bookwyrm28 @gemini-demon @jeongchaos @jihanlovic @comingupwithacoolnameishard @marked-unknown @yuhjoeyuh @bakedlilgoonie @itstorimf @toomuchtellyneck @ana-stasssiaaa @galaxypox @n034sy @amara-mars @purple-belle @amararosesblog @tori719 @rindomo @freakinthesheets-excelexcel @niaalove @crazyllamasurfer @luunaruwu @jenseok17 @mariegalea @kimseungminsprincess @julciaqwerty @officialshania @whore4stucky9104 @foxinnie8 @i-dont-know-me-either @sirenthalia @uno7 @jeonnginns @mixling-blog @httpsmultifandom @hyunlixwife @eastleighsblog @tzalethhwang @queenofdragons12 @fixation-dump @midsoulz @emmxxsworld @scarletrosesposts @sugahannie @jinniespuppy

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bonefall · 6 months

Note

I hope you find a way to keep starclan involvement minimal because making them able to zoom call frostpaw so directly at any time raises the obvious question of why she (or anyone else in riverclan who wasn’t in on the conspiracy frankly) aren’t told who did it earlier

I’m curious if Splashtail was rejected for lives or if he refused to take them on principle

The solution is very simple. Most angels can't communicate directly! What's the point of speaking in omens and signs and prophecies if you can just say what you want

Between the realms of life and death is a sort of veil, like a strange, dusty membrane. A spirit can cross through it and try to influence the mortal plane, but it's got that disconnected feeling of working in heavy gloves.

Still, it's reliable to zip down and drag a couple of items to the nearest Cleric. They're trained in divination, learning basic systems for properly interpreting signs and omens.

The bright feather of a jay = StarClan is pleased with you

The dull feather of a jay = StarClan is disappointed in you

Hairstreak butterfly = Follow this

Snail shell, swirl-up = Yes

Snail shell, swirl-down = No

Trying to chat casually is AWFUL. Have you ever been asleep, and someone started trying to tell you something or command something of you? Sometimes you'll remember it, other times it just ends up warping whatever dream you were in, but most of the time you'll catch absolutely NOTHING. That's what it's like when gramma talks to you.

It's easier to connect to spirits you knew in life, or have a kinship with. Strong emotions make this more powerful. Rituals, like invocation (calling StarClan to connect the ancestor to you), channeling (directly contacting the spirit, usually via a sacrifical object), or prayer (catching the attention of a spirit) can strengthen the connection, but there will always be that veil.

Think of spirituality kind of like a stat. In life, having a huge number means you're really good at receiving messages and understanding intuitively if you're near something supernatural. In death, you're better at sending them and what exactly will get through.

Other assorted tidbits in closing;

More powerful spirits have a higher "stat" in spirituality, but they're also usually more disconnected from the mortal they once were.

Skystar, Patron of War, could pretty directly tell you what the confusing omen means...

But. He's very likely to angrily blast you with a lightning bolt for asking him to do something he sees as beneath him.

Thankfully this is why Invocation is helpful. If you tried to invoke someone who would get angry you're bugging them, the "call" won't go through.

Thanks to Clan cat ego and shifting popularity, good patrons often go uncontacted because they're less "cool" or unpopular. Pinestar actually got a lot of mileage out of his invocations of Bumble.

SPIRITS ARE INDIVIDUALS. Even when they've hit godly status and are distant from mortality, StarClan is not as united of an entity as it presents.

StarClan is not a fair or rational entity. It's the most powerful ancient spirits remembered over many decades, and a bunch of recent dead relatives a few generations behind the living.

Lizardstripe understands it best; the lower angels make a jury and a crowd and the patrons are the court staff.

The younger spirits are more connected to the living, but the older spirits have more functional power to pass on accurate signs

Ancient patrons, especially the founders, tend to not give a lot of "personal" attention to prayers, and when they do answer they tend to be cryptic. They are very disconnected from their mortal selves, more legend than life now.

Riverstar in particular is notorious for this. As the Patron of Water, he's essentially an abstract concept, on top of being a mysterious and wise person when he was alive.

Angels of all levels are perfectly capable of acting alone and messing things up, though. Birchface actually sent the sign that wound up getting Mapleshade’s kittens drowned, and he's just kept quiet about it out of fear this whole time.

Spottedleaf was UNRIVALED in her connection, both in life and in death.

Firestar doesn't know how she made it look so EASY... and he's also got a good connection, himself. He wishes he had more time to learn from her.

Shadowsight got his incredible connection by being tormented by Ashfur. He blasted him with lightning and turned him into a living radio tower.

If Ashfur and his accomplices hadn't blocked off StarClan, Shadowsight would have been more haunted and hounded than Goosefeather. They were the only "signals" he was picking up

(And then Ashfur ate all his accomplices anyway.)

SO those sorts of stunts are not pulled often. You need to be extremely powerful to alter the living like Ashfur did to Shadowsight

(In case you're about to ask; Goosefeather was likely either a mistake or an accident, unless I end up tweaking his story later)

The only time where you're guaranteed to be able to directly, perfectly talk to any cat is during a leadership ceremony. It's considered too sacred and personal to burden with commands, because the leader will only ever experience this once.

Going through the Moonplace is actually not a guarantee! They send very strong dreams to those who visit, more like TPB than later arcs.

As for why ghosts don't just reveal their murderer-- in addition to how hard it actually is to speak directly, most murderers simply take precautions.

It's known StarClan can be watching, but there are also demons to channel. There are rituals to ward watchful eyes.

Can't reveal your murderer if you don't know who killed you.

If you're Redtail in particular and your incredible sister breaks the law to summon you directly for answers, you actually waste the entirety of the time you got to yell at her about using the wrong method <3

But in a nutshell; no more zoom calls. You will STRUGGLE for your divine revelations and only end up receiving them when you've royally pissed them off the way God INTENDED

(also i think in the wind excerpt it said that splashtail rejected them outright, but I haven't read the whole book yet)

#Spirituality overhauls #Better bones au #BB!StarClan #Asc Spoilers

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oogaboogasphincter · 5 months

Note

would u do a part 2 of after the beep when bunny gets home from work? because it’s very much delicious and i ate it up with a little salt and pepper

Stress Relief | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

🩷 hiii anon! 🥺 i can’t even begin to apologize for how long this took me to get to you, i’m so beyond thankful for your patience <3 i hope i delivered for you! 🫶

After an agitating day, your boyfriend Dieter helps melt all your worries away by delivering on the dirty promises he left in your voicemails earlier that morning.

word count/warnings: 4.9k+ words EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY MDNI! // hurt (reader has a terrible horrible no good very bad day) then comfort, reader and dieter have a verbal argument (in which reader throws a pillow at dieter) but it’s quickly resolved, phone sex mention, dieter threatens to blackmail your boss lol, anal play (f!receiving; fingering, licking), anal sex (f!receiving), masturbation (f), oral (m receiving), recreational drug use (weed, reader and dieter both use but it’s not a factor in their consent), insane amount of pet names (baby, kitty, bunny, sweetheart, sugar, lady, girl) // ao3 link

(this can be read as part 2 to after the beep but it can also be a standalone!)

“Dieter!?”

You shout as you wrench the door open with your rain-slicked hand and kick it closed behind you, leaving a muddy bootprint on the crisp white wood. The roaring thunder fails to drown out your enraged call, but you’re left unanswered nonetheless. The house Dieter is staying at - one of his actor friend’s vacation homes - is darkened by the storm outside and seems to sigh at your anger, upset that you roused it from its storm-induced slumber. But Dieter’s rental car is in the driveway, so you know your boyfriend is here somewhere. You yank your soaked jacket off and don’t bother finding a peg for it, throwing it on the hideous accent chair that probably cost more than your rent.

Despite the boisterous thunder, the quiet inside swells to an intimidating glower. By now Dieter should’ve come lumbering out of whatever pit of candy wrappers or wrinkled pajamas he plunged himself into, but the air remains undisturbed. You keep your footsteps light as you walk around the unfamiliar house, peeking in and scanning each room for him.

“Hey, Diets?” you ask another room, devoid of any activity. Your anger has softened now, eaten away by a growing concern of what Dieter could’ve possibly gotten himself into between when you left to go to work this morning and now. You know he was upset that you were leaving, but he always is. Hell, his voice gains a whiney edge when you just want to leave his grizzly embrace for all of thirty seconds to go to the bathroom. He left you those deliciously vile voicemails earlier in the day, detailing exactly what his erotic plans were for you later this evening, but it had been radio silence since then.

More calls, no answers. Your mind races with options, getting more worrisome as your brain’s overthinking cogs are given more unresolved time to spiral with. Did he go meet up with a friend and forget to text you? Did he get let go of by a project, a studio - god forbid it isn’t his lawyer - and he’s drowning his sorrows with some chosen vice? Did he make one too many wrong friends on one of his many esoteric adventures and they have come back to haunt him?

You circle back to the living room, taking out your phone to call the friend that owns this house. Maybe Dieter got picked up by them to have drinks and that’s why his rental is still here? You dial the number with a crease in your brow, and as you lift the phone to your ear and it starts to ring, you spot your dastardly lover: dead asleep on the couch, curled into himself. Only his muss of graying curls bobs from the surface of a sea of pillows and blankets with every light snore.

Your rage is rekindled to its fullest extent as a bolt of lightning cracks across the sky outside. You swear you can feel your eye twitch as you stand drenched from head to toe in rain before your dozing boyfriend, swaddled in cozy, dry warmth.

“Dieter!” You take one of the pillows and lob it at him, hitting him right on the head. You don’t feel bad because you know it didn’t hurt him and it irks you when his eyes burst open, holding his hand to his forehead like it did. He blinks slowly, his eyelashes sticking together with sleep as he mumbles quietly, “What the fuck?” Then his eyes - those irritatingly gorgeous puddles of melted chocolate - widen when they take you in. His expression morphs into compassion and he shakes the blankets off, stumbling to his feet with lingering drowsiness.

“Bunny, what happened?” he asks, reaching for your arms to hold you. You take a step back from him, still steaming with anger. You get even more irritated when you feel the hot tears that prick your eyes every goddamn time you get upset. Stifling them back, you straighten your back and unleash your anger.

“What happened? What happened is that I stayed late at work, even though my boss was being a fucking asshole, and when I went to leave, my car battery died, and since I stayed late, everyone else had already left, and my boyfriend didn’t answer my fucking calls!” You jab a finger into the air, aiming at his chest. “So I had to leave my car at work because no tow or rental company would help me, and I walked here in the fucking pouring-down rain!”

You turn on your heel and slip against the marble floor, which you honestly should’ve seen coming but you’re too irate to think rationally right now. Dieter reaches his arms out again, wanting to steady you, but you beat him to it and stomp away angrily. With your face hidden from his sight now, you let your tears silently flow down your cheeks and blend with the fat raindrops on your neck. Dieter follows behind you, quickening his pace to match yours and subsequently slides in his slippers in your wet wake. He tries to get you to stop, sympathetically calling out to you by name.

You beeline for the bedroom and lunge into the adjoining bathroom. Just as Dieter catches up to you, he’s pleading, “Bunny, wait, just let me-”

You shut the door in his face and lock yourself in, leaning your back against it and crying into the darkness. You let yourself sob out loud, releasing all the pent up anger, frustration, sadness and shame you’ve been holding in all day and that hit its climax when you started arguing with Dieter.

Your sweet, beloved boyfriend.

The two of you haven’t officially labeled yourselves as of yet, but you know it’s more than the booty calls it began as. You… care about him. You never thought you’d see the snarky, charming jerk as anything but. However, over the past two and a half years you’ve shared a bed with him (among various other furniture and locations), he’s revealed a soft vulnerability that you were convinced he faked in order to come off to the public as empathetic, intellectual. But he’s the real deal; all those philosophical musings, whether fueled by questionable substances or not, were spoken from his heart. That four letter word that scares the daylights out of you both rings in your head, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

Just because you don’t have the wherewithal to vocalize your feelings right now, it only serves to engorge the guilt you have for shutting Dieter out, both literally and figuratively. He’s only trying to help you, trying to provide a safe space for you to lash out, cry, or forget about your grievances, like he always does. With a sniffle and a deep sigh, you open the door and jump a little when he’s standing right there; he was waiting for you to be ready. He never left.

His genuine care for you makes your eyes well up and flood again, your voice hoarse as you begin, “I-I’m sorry, I just…”

Dieter holds his hand up in a sign of peace and softly interjects when you trail off, “Hold on. Before you say anything more, sweetheart, know that you have nothing to apologize for.”

Your last bit of resolve is blown to smithereens and you practically fall into his arms, where he catches you and envelopes you in his warmth. Openly sobbing again into his chest, Dieter presses his warm mouth against your temple and just holds it there for a moment, letting his touch calm you as he caresses your damp hair away from your face. When your spluttering gasps subside, he speaks quietly and compassionately, “I’m the sorry one. I had the balls to bother you earlier, knowing you were stressed and busy, and then being the lazy asshole I am, I fell asleep and was dead to the world for hours. I’m sorry.”

When you fish your face out of his shirt, the damp spot that your eyes made on the fabric makes you cringe. Dieter reads your discomfort and rubs his big palms up and down your back, silently pardoning you. He’s had much more vile substances on his person before, a few tears from his lover isn’t anything to make a fuss over. You shrug and collect your thoughts that finally have some sensibility to them, “It’s okay. I just had a bad day at work, they gave me so much extra shit because I scheduled a few days off so they were trying to wring me for all I had and were even pushier than usual and were yelling at me even when I was doing all the right things and what they asked and- and then my fucking car-”

You cut yourself off with a gasp, not having realized that throughout your spill you didn’t stop to breathe. Dieter strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers as he coos to you, the cool metal of his rings grounding you, “Hey, shhh. It’s over now, right? You just relax, baby, okay? Focus on taking some deep breaths, like we practiced. In through the nose and out through the mouth, remember?”

If you weren’t so distraught, it would make you chuckle. You were the one that had given him that technique to calm his own anxiety, and here you were forgetting your own advice. Dieter sets an example for you, breathing slowly through his nose and out through his mouth, and you follow along until your sobs stop catching in your throat. His hands never stop stroking you, sending waves of comfort through you. Soon, your body has stopped trembling because of your volatile emotions, but you shake in your skin from the cold rain that has seeped into your bones.

He notices and chuckles breathily, rubbing your arms to instill some heat into your blood. There’s a hint of mischief in his smile, one that you sense will swell into some menacing devilishness as the night deepens, “Let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

He sidesteps you to go deeper into the bathroom behind you, going to the bathtub which he takes a seat on the edge of and turns the faucet on. With his palm upturned, his forefinger points at you and wiggles in an upward motion.

“Off,” he instructs. His eyes rake over your dripping frame, following the cold droplets’ paths over the rain-soaked clothes that mold to every delectable curve of your body. His yearning stare wedges an extra beat into your heart rate and makes it hard to swallow.

Despite the unceremonious manner of your strip, your locked gazes are brimming with passion, ferocity, boiling with the heat of the night to come. Your sopping clothes land on the floor with a splat and Dieter sighs at your figure in all its nude glory, moving his hand to palm himself unabashedly through his pajama bottoms.

He leans back and swishes his finger through the water once the tub is filled, checking the temperature. He jerks his head toward the warm pool, “Come here, sweet thing.”

His fingers graze along your bare hip as you step into the bath and retract back to his cock when you sink down out of reach. The water feels heavenly, and fulfilling Dieter’s wish without the need of verbal instruction, you lean your back against the slope of the tub until the water’s surface meets the underside of your chin, letting out a deep sigh. You’re about to close your eyes when he brushes a stray hair out of your face, wrangling your attention to the sweet smile that graces his lips.

His voice is soft but firm in its sincerity, “I’ll have your car picked up and checked out.” Knowing you better than you know yourself, you’re about to pipe up to offer that he really doesn’t have to do that, that you’ll pay for the rest even if he insists on covering the tow. He leans in closer, so close you can taste his breath on your lips, robbing you of all thoughts other than the ones that spiral around him. “Don’t worry about any repairs it needs. I’ve got ya, sugar,” he supplies with a wink.

“Your boss will be receiving an unsightly letter to treat you better or else. There’s also a blackmail package available, featuring a rather smelly, heaping pile of a ‘substance’,” his fingers scrunch in allusive air quotes, “that Bravo Enterprises can’t disclose only for the purpose of ensuring surprise for the recipient, of course, that can be left on his desk. If the lady so desires.” You’re giggling before he’s finished, smacking him on the bicep that leaves a wet handprint on his t-shirt sleeve.

“I appreciate the offer, but no thank you. I don’t want to be fired, or jailed, depending on what this ‘substance’,” you mimic his air quotes, “is you speak of.”

“But,” you look up at him from underneath your lashes, shyly, “how could I have known my boyfriend would send in a letter of complaint?”

He kisses your forehead proudly, stroking your cheek with his thumb affectionately, “That’s my girl. Now, I want you to sit back and relax for a while. Let the stress of the day melt away.” His hands dip shallowly into the water to rub his thumbs into your collarbone, moving onto your shoulders to massage soothing circles there after that. His voice drops an octave, with a satisfying rasp that runs parallel to velvety smoothness, “I need you relaxed for what I’m going to do to you later, anyway.”

With your eyes closed, you smirk in anticipation. He gives a parting kiss to your cheek, leaving you to shed the stifling stress of the day on your own time. Before he does, he asks, “Want some?”

You peek one eye open and are being offered a little white rolled paper with a twist at the end.

“No thanks,” you shrug, “Maybe later.”

A little while later, there’s a knock on the door so soft you don’t hear it. Dieter pokes his head in, his boyish scruff rearranging into a smile when he sees your eyes still closed in peace. He quietly lays a folded bathrobe on the counter next to the sink and steals one last admiring glance at you before he ducks back out.

When the water has lost its warmth, you exit the bath and shrug on the thoughtful, fluffy robe with a smile, knotting the belt loosely around your waist as you go into the bedroom. Dieter is lying on his back on the bed, toying with a vibrator in his hands. The scene makes you chuckle and the playful sound draws his gaze. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, “Get over here, sweetness,” and you oblige, standing in between his parted thighs. The robe you’ve had on for all of sixty seconds becomes a redundant heap on the ground. Dieter’s hands cup your asscheeks, pulling you closer to him so he can envelope your nipple with his tongue. He bites down on your pert bud softly as you do the same to your lip, moaning through your teeth. His tongue drags a path across your chest to your other breast, where he laves his desperate tongue against the erect little peak there too. When he pulls back, he looks drunk off of you already.

He pats the center of the bed, his tone gruff and lost in his allegiance to your pleasure, “On your knees.”

Dieter puts the weight of his palm on your back, sculpting you into an arch. You’re on your knees but you’re also on your forearms, too. He kneels before you, sitting back on his haunches, and lifts your gaze up to his with a finger underneath your chin. “You remember what I said on the phone?” he asks, using his free hand to squeeze his bulge through his boxers. You nod, resting your cheek on his thigh and batting your lashes up at him. “Mmhm…,” you lick a stripe up the seam of the crotch, “You said you were gonna fuck my throat.”

He pulls his underwear down to his knees, freeing himself. The thick heft of him lightly smacks against your nose and a pornographic moan rumbles up from your center, whose emptiness is gnawing away at you. “Until I gag,” you tack on, remembering all his erotic details. His shoulders deflate with a sigh, his eyes shine with rapture, “Smart girl,” and he feeds you his cock.

You take it greedily, engulfing it in your hot, warm mouth. Harsh, helpless breaths escape his chest as he stumbles through the foggy abyss of ecstasy, regaining enough consciousness to thread his fingers in your hair and glide against your waiting tongue. “Fuck,” he whispers on every thrust, taking the time to rut in and out of your mouth until enough saliva collects to aid his descent down your throat. You take it all like a good girl, his good girl. His stubbly balls nestle against your chin when he reaches that impossible smoothness at your end and he anchors himself there, waiting for that godsent sound of-

You gag wetly around his length. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you try to look up at him, despite the compromising position. He helps you out and leans back so he can stare at you in amazement; his wrought expression has you dripping from both ends.

He ruefully retreats from your cavern and a thick string of saliva leaves the two of you connected. He swipes it from your lip with his thumb and drinks you down as he shuffles on his knees behind you.

Planting himself at your opening, he sighs contentedly as he settles in to patiently work you up until you go crazy. “Open up for me, kitty,” he rubs the backs of your thighs and you concede to lay your head down on the bed, splitting yourself for his ravenous eyes. You wiggle your ass back and forth when he doesn’t do anything but sit there admiring and your antics earn you an abrupt, satisfying, open-handed slap to your ass.

In his voicemail smut, he promised he would open you up, nice and slow, and he does just that at a tauntingly sluggish pace. His languid, sensual tongue draws rivulets up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, before his warm breath ghosts across his tight destination at the peak of your apex. Your breath catches in your throat delightedly when his wet curiosity finds your hole at last, tracing it with his tongue then deftly swirling it around your perimeter. It makes you bite your lip and your breathing come more strenuously. You’re tight, you know that and he knows that, but you don’t doubt his capability to unravel you until you can take his whole length with no resistance.

His raspy, comforting voice murmurs into your cheek, echoing his promise, “Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll open you up. Nice and slow…” He starts with his tongue again, lubing your backdoor entrance until you can feel his heavy saliva slide down to your aching folds. You rub at your clit lazily while he massages your hole with his thumb, gradually exposing you to increased pressure. Your resistance fades in time with his patient ministrations, to the point where he can lick into you. You both groan out in relief, him at your taste and you in dire pleasure. He reaches to swap your hand for his and draws perfect circles around your clit while his tongue works magic against your hole, bringing you to the peaks of two orgasmic heights whose blissful slopes have you feeling relaxed afterward, like jelly. It takes a little while of licking into you for him to be able to slide his thick finger in there, wriggling it around.

It tickles more than you expected, making you giggle before you’re choked out with a moan as the ticklishness ignites into absolute pleasure. The tingles crawl up your spine, fizzing out in the base of your neck and skittering sparks of dopamine all over your brain.

He squeezes a second finger inside in between contractions of your muscle, convulsing and expanding in time with the merciless waves of ecstasy that pour over you. Dieter watches with rapt attention as you stretch around him, your impeccable body adjusting to him deliciously. When your body starts to pull him back in on every retraction of his fingers, his cock twitches. You’re ready.

He gets to his knees, stretching over to the bedside table to grab the lube - just for extra comfort. You whimper ceaselessly underneath him on all fours, your body on fire for him. You squirm with impatience, a fiery need for him to fill you to the brim thrashing through you. Hurried by your mewling, Dieter’s fingers slip against the bottle and knock it to the floor. “Fuck!” he spits, bursting you into pieces with laughter.

He regains possession of the bottle and settles your devilish attitude with a single smack to your asscheek. The cap pops open, the cold gel runs into his palm, and he warms it up in his hands before he coats you everywhere you’ll need it. Dieter gives himself a few additional strokes too, groaning at the thought of what’s about to come (quite literally).

He pushes his tip against your hole, testing you, relishing in the remaining pressure your body still keeps. It feels so good to be broken by him, like he’s knocking down a barrier you don’t have the strength to keep up anymore. You want to surrender and he lets you.

He pushes inside and you gasp sharply, immediately followed by warbling babbles of how good he feels, how big he is, how good it fucking feels! He eases into you slowly, gliding deeper until his hips are nestled against your cheeks and all he can see is his hairy base above where he’s buried inside you. His splayed hand runs from the nape of your neck down your curved spine. “Shh, bunny,” he soothes. His hand comes to a stop just above your tailbone, pressing into the small of your back to arch you further beneath him. You bend to his will and groan as the new angle seats him impossibly deeper inside.

Your pussy drips for him, warm and fresh, and your hips wiggle of their own accord to make his intrusion a pleasurable one. His fingers wind around your pelvis and hold you steady, tongue tutting at you over your shoulder.

“Move, goddamnit,” you seethe, on the verge of tears. You feel helpless beneath him, a prisoner to your own desire, and your voice comes out just as vulnerable despite its biting rage that he still hasn’t moved.

Upon hearing your desperation, he doesn’t make you hold out any longer. His first thrust is gentle, experimental, opening you up even further. Breath heaving, whole body shaking with every inhale that squeezes you tighter around him, “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…”

“Holy fuck,” he blurts out in an echo to you, staring down at his thick cock lodged in your tight hole.

Even as he starts to gain pace, he maintains a consistent degree of gentleness to his thrusts so as not to hurt you - that’d be no fun for anyone involved.

“Feel so good, bunny,” Dieter whispers breathlessly, neck craned up to the gods with eyes closed and imperceptible, breathy oh, oh, ohs flowing from his mouth on every plunge. Meanwhile, your face is smashed into the sheets, squealing with a sensation so pleasurable that is ill-monikered by “an itch that needs to be scratched”; this is more like a firework in the night sky that you jump to catch every singing ember of.

You grip at the bedsheets with white knuckles, grinding your teeth together. Dieter splays his hand on the crown of your head and lifts you up to release your stifled, heavy breaths, “Let go, bunny,” he encourages. Your resolve instantly weakens and your orgasm overtakes you swiftly, knocking you without warning. Wracked with blinding pleasure, every breath you take is either a scream, a desperate moan, or a wrecked sob for him to keep going!

He does, fucking you until you’re a mess beneath him. You faintly remember his threat on the phone, something like he’d pull out midway through your release and make you gape. But thank fucking god you appealed to his sympathy enough tonight that instead he treats you, keeping his length nestled in your ass for you to pulse around, choking on air as your heart pounds in your chest.

Not too long later, your reverie is dissolved when he lands a smack to your ass, “Good girl,” he purrs. He leans over your body, his breath cool on your feverish skin as it tickles your shoulder in a whisper, “Your turn.”

You whimper when he pulls out and stay stuck in your feline position, back arched like a cat and wishing he was still hitting it. Dieter lies down in front of you, his cock resting erect against his tummy and his stupidly big, pleading eyes beg for you. “Please, baby,” comes whimpering from between those plush lips.

You nearly choose to leave him dangling on the edge; after all, you know how much he likes to be cucked (and how much you like to cuck him). But you want him too badly. Like in his dirty dreams this morning that he analogged for you, you mount him and begin riding. His big palms ascend your sweaty skin to cup your breasts that bounce as your thighs work to propel you up and sink you down in quicker succession. He leans forward to take one plush mound in his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue - but you twist your fingers in his ruffled hair and tug him back. It felt good, but the devastated crease between his brows makes you feel even better. This push and pull, give and take of dominance and submission always had to equalize with you two; your egos were too prideful for the game to be finished with a clear decision.

With the score tied, you finally find the patience to slow down; you gyrate your hips, grinding down on Dieter and meeting his shallow thrusts in a symphony of movement. That is, until that biting urge deep in your tummy needs another orgasm thrown to it to be satiated and stop growling at you for more. You resume bouncing, not going as fast as you could but opting for a poignant, striking rhythm instead.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna-” he chokes.

“Fuck yeah baby, do it,” you hiss like a temptress, watching the restraint drain from his eyes and give way to the unstoppable bliss that erodes him until he’s nothing but. You lift your hips up for him to pull out and he takes himself in hand, pumping feverishly as white hot cum spills into his lap. The muscles of Dieter’s stomach jerk in tandem with his spurting, even after he’s reached empty. He runs his hand down his sweaty, wrecked face, breathing haggardly as you roll off his lap and lower your mouth to his hips to lap him up. He tastes mostly salty with a hint of sweetness, viscous and easy to swallow down. It might not be your arousal your tongue cleans him of, like he fantasized earlier, but the sinful sight drives him up the fucking wall regardless.

Both of you lie there, him on his back and you on his chest, for a long time, just trying to catch your breath. Dieter reaches over to the nightstand for a joint and raises his eyebrow, asking your permission, which you give with a nod. He lights up and passes the smoke to you through parted lips, before handing over the rest of it for you to finish off. The thing about weed’s specific effect on you, that Dieter is very familiar with, is that it makes you feel warm, cuddly, and… aroused. With a mischievous giggle, you grind your wet folds against his thigh, asking for more, to which he grunts and gives a dry chuckle.

“I’m not 25 anymore, bunny, you gotta give me a little bit of time to recover.”

“What do you think I was trying to get off work for?” Your fingers waltz up his ribs with a mission to tickle him, but he catches on and swats you away with a smile. You love that shit-eating grin he gets, but it tarnishes your own when you’re hit with the thought that… you’ll miss it.

You turn your face away to look down at the burning paper, trying to disguise the disappointment in your voice, “You’re leaving soon, right?”

He sighs bitterly, but not at you, “Yeah, I am. But I was thinking…”

Your ears perk up so that you don’t mistake not even one word in his soft, raspy voice, “If you could, if you wanted to… you could come stay with me for a little while.”

You meet his eyes to gauge if he’s fucking with you - to your delight, he isn’t. “I have that fuck off huge house that production gave me with nobody in it but me and some makeup and costume people who are in and out for a few hours each morning. Ha,” he chuckles, raising his eyebrows in time with his words, “In and out.”

He can never take anything seriously for very long, but that’s the Dieter that you fell in- nopedon’tsayitthatwordistooscaryheonlyinvitedyoutocomestayforalittlewhilethatdoesn’tmeananythingseriousthatdoesn’tchangeanythingbetweenyoutwo. But the softened glimmer in his eye… it’s not a high from the weed.

“I’d love to.”

main masterlist 🍑 join my taglist!

💘taglist: @pascalpanic @maievdenoir @pedrostories @your-voice-is-mellifluous @uncassettodiricordi @harriedandharassed @scentedcandletidalwave @oscar-wilde-thing @kiki13522

#pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x afab!reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x fem!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x female reader

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kinda-indecisive · 4 months

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I just don't understand why people who already hated the original story of Hades and Persephone even bothered reading a retelling of it in the first place...

Of course there is an age gap...

Of course the main characters are bougie, rich, and disconnected from the problems of piddly little mortals...

Of course Hades is a dry, grumpy, depressed, jerk before meeting Persephone...

Of course Persephone has anger issues and of course Hades is going to let her do as she damn well pleases in the realm he made her the queen of...

All of the gods in the original myths were flawed and, ironically, extremely human. To insist the characters in the retelling be anything otherwise is bizarre.

And yeah, some of the other Deities got screwed over in this one. But was there not supposed to be any antagonists?? And for me, in a society that tends to turn Zeus into the Christian idea of God (but with a lightning bolt!) and Hades into the Christian idea of the Devil, I was happy to see different Deities in a different light.

Lore Olympus was originally intended to be a Super Soapy Soap Opera, and that was perfectly okay. The Gods are perfect fodder for that kind of story. And I still think Rachel was goaded into turning it into a think piece. And then when the think piece wasn't as deep as people wanted, they turned into an angry hoard on tumblr, reddit, etc., completely swarming the story's tags with negativity (there is a difference between genuine criticism and simply being nitpicky).

I genuinely beg y'all to create your own retelling. Or write a fanfic that fixes everything you don't like! One, because it's not as easy as you think to write and draw a story on a deadline all while keeping everyone happy. And two because, hey, I'm excited for any content about the Greek Gods! If you think you can do better, give it a shot! And if it's good, I'll happily admit it. I might even become your number-one fan lol

I dunno. I'm just extremely sad that I couldn't even fully enjoy the ending of a series that really meant a lot to me because I knew before it even came that people were going to tear it to pieces...

And I don't want to block the "lore olympus criticism" tags because I'm not anti-criticism and some people have genuine points; there is a list of things I wish were included in the story and there are things that I didn't particularly love.

But dang... some of y'all are vicious. It kinda feels like y'all enjoy making fans of the series feel like idiots...

A bunch of Anton Ego's from Ratatouille lol

#lore olympus #lo hades x persphone #lo #my thoughts #critics #writing

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joelalorian · 2 months

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Beacon of Hope

Frankie Morales x f!reader | 2.5k words | 18+ MDNI

Welcome to my contribution to @almostfoxglove's angst challenge. I was given the character Frankie Morales, this moodboard made by Freya, and the song Siren by Kailee Morgue. I went outside my comfort zone in both genre and style with this one. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Rough weather leads to a helicopter crash. Is it real or all delirium?

Warnings: None really. Just some cursing, angst, and confusion. My blog as a whole is still 18+ mdni. No use of y/n. Little to no description of reader.

The weather turned on a dime. Rotor blades sliced through the rain and wind as Frankie fought to keep the collective and cyclic controls steady, feet working the pedals for the rear rotor. Lightning flashed ahead and the helicopter dropped altitude.

“What the fuck were they thinking?” he shouted above the ruckus just to hear himself think. His new boss was an asshole, never accounting for weather in his need to keep business going. Hence, Frankie found himself sweating bullets, flying solo through a sudden squall to transport cargo. He’d be shocked if he made it through. Shame, too. He’d been looking forward to a night out with the boys for one of Benny’s fights.

Various thoughts flashed in Frankie’s mind as he squinted through the rain-beaten windshield. He worked hard to get his life back on track after that debacle in South America. He never told the boys, but he kept just a bit of his share of the money, needing it for a fresh start. He paid fines to clear his name and get his pilot’s license back, finding a job with an only slightly shady transport company.

Frankie got to fly everyday and that was all he really cared about, especially after he returned from South America and found out his woman had lied and cheated, their baby wasn’t actually his. She left him for the baby’s birth father and Frankie hit rock bottom before scraping himself off the floor.

All that he’d been through, and now he might die in a helicopter crash over the middle of the god damned ocean, and no one would even know where to look for him.

Fuck.

He should try to land, but where?

A flash of lightning lit up the world around him, and Frankie scanned the horizon. Aha! A small peak ahead looking like an oasis to a dying man, he adjusted course to head toward the island. Wind buffeted the aircraft; thunder cracking so loud Frankie could hear it over the noise of the rotors.

Another bolt of lightning shot across the sky, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

Oh fuck.

“Mayday, mayday!” he shouted into the mic of his headset, calling out the aircraft’s tail number and coordinates to anyone listening on the other side.

The next thing Frankie knew, the instruments were fried. No amount of punching or yanking would get the aircraft to respond, and it spun, plummeting until Frankie could see the rough seas rising to meet it. Without thought, Frankie undid his harness and fled the pilot’s seat. Wrenching the door open, he jumped into the raging sea with the helicopter merely twenty feet above the cresting waves.

Seconds became minutes became hours while Frankie fought against the waves, gulping water and swimming toward the glimmer of the island ahead. At some point, the storm waned, waves settling, and Frankie let the tide carry him to shore where he collapsed on the wet sand in exhaustion.

The sun beating down on the back of his head, water lapping at his bare feet, roused Frankie back to consciousness. The grainy, damp sand worked its way into his scruff and stuck to his dewy skin, causing it to itch relentlessly. He sat up, scratching at his chin, and took in his surroundings.

Nothing but water before him for miles.

Well, that was not encouraging, at all.

Turning his head with effort, his body having taken a beating during the crash and subsequent fight for his life, Frankie assessed the empty beach and hilly forest beyond. Not a soul in sight.

Where the fuck was he?

Frankie stood on shaky legs, toes digging into the gritty sand to find balance. Only then did he realize his bare feet.

“What the hell happened to my shoes?” Running his fingers through tangled locks, he realized his beloved hat was gone, too. Mouth dry and brain fuzzy, Frankie felt ill prepared for this particular situation.

With a downtrodden sigh, he walked along the water line, the wet sand making it easier, and scanned the area. A quarter of a mile into his journey, Frankie came across footprints in the wet sand. Noticeably smaller than his own, his heart leapt in his chest.

Was someone else out there?

Or was he hallucinating?

It could go either way, Frankie guessed. He was slowly dehydrating.

With little else left to do, he followed the footprints, searching for any other signs of human life along the way. Oddly, there was no other sound on the island other than the gentle crash of the waves on shore. No birdsong. No rustling of little critters in the brush. Nothing.

Strange, that.

Rounding the tip of the island, Frankie froze.

A lighthouse stood before him, just taller than the trees behind it.

He ran towards it, desperate and eager to find someone, anyone, on this godforsaken island. Or at least a way to call for help. His feet padded up the dilapidated steps, careful to avoid any jagged edges, and wrestled open the weather-beaten door.

“Hello?” Frankie called, voice echoing between the concrete walls as it carried upwards. When no response came, he climbed the winding staircase to the top, the metal steps painful beneath his bare feet.

His breath left him when he reached the pinnacle. A panoramic view of nothing but water for miles and miles in every direction met his weary eyes. Caught up in the view, it was an afterthought to glance at the light fixture occupying much of the space, and the ethereal woman standing next to it.

Beauty incarnate in ways Frankie could not even try to describe, like a siren beckoning him. He merely stared at you in wonder.

“’Lo,” he greeted when you smiled at him.

“Hello,” you replied, voice like angelic music, a cool breeze in the heat of summer, a breath of fresh air.

The edges of Frankie’s vision went blurry, and he stumbled, falling back against the wall where he sank to the ground. The image of you approaching him with furrowed brows, lips moving but no sound hitting his ears, was the last thing he saw before the world went black.

Days passed and Frankie lost track of them. His waking hours spent learning everything he could about you – what you were doing on the island all alone, your name, your favorite color – all the important things.

He kept losing consciousness in the middle of conversations, which worried him, but not you. A constant smile alight on your face, you greeted him every time he opened his eyes. You didn’t talk much, but always answered his questions. You never asked any of him, which he should have found beyond strange, but his brain still wasn’t working fully. Come to think of it, you spoke in riddles a lot, which confused him.

“Would you ever leave here?” Frankie asked while you gave him a tour of the far side of the island. The sun still rising, morning sky a kaleidoscope of reds and oranges which didn’t bode well for them. A storm was coming.

“To where would you have me go? This is where I reside. This is my beginning and my end.”

There you went again, confusing the hell out of him with your answers and dazzling him with your beauty. Frankie’s brows pinched together as he tried to figure out what to say next. Finally, he settled on, “You could come with me, back to Florida.”

“If only the fates would allow.”

On and on it went like that for days. Belly aching with emptiness, and mouth dry with overwhelming thirst, Frankie lost focus of everything but you. He would have jumped from the top of the lighthouse had you asked him to. Instead, you talked him through fixing the mechanism preventing the lighthouse from serving its purpose. The rest of the instruments, including the radio controls, were a loss, though.

You handed him tools just when he needed them, all the parts necessary to get the light working again ready and waiting in your hands before he could even voice the need. It should have weirded him out, but it didn’t. Nothing weirded him out or worried him with you at his side.

Storms battered the reinforced walls of the lighthouse as he worked. Finally, the light blinked, spinning its circle to shine brightly out to sea. Frankie stood with pride for a few moments before lightheadedness kicked in and he slumped down to the ground.

Your siren song roused him a solid day later.

“The time is nigh. The winds of change are upon us.”

“Wuh?” Frankie questioned groggily. You were making even less sense than you normally did. “What are you talking about?”

Your hand ghosted against his cheek, the lightest brush against the grown in scruff. He could only imagine how haggard he looked. “It’s time, Frankie. You must go.”

His eyes widened and he bolted to his feet at the high-pitched whine of a boat engine in the distance. Pressing his face to the glass on the western side, Frankie gulped at the sight of a Zodiac boat barreling toward the island, three men onboard. He watched the boat bounce along the water for a minute before turning back to you.

“Come with me,” Frankie said, voice pitched low. “Come with me, please. You saved me. I can’t leave you behind. Let me save you.”

You smiled warmly, eyes shining with emotion. “Could that I would, my Frankie. My place is here,” you replied, arms spreading wide in a gesture to encompass the island. “My soul is linked to this place and it’s a link that cannot be broken. There is nothing left of me to save.”

Frankie’s vision swam, your form going blurry and blinking in and out of existence. Certain he was about to lose consciousness again; he slid down to the floor. “Please,” he tried again in a choked voice before his vision went black.

“Fish! Come on, man!”

Someone jostled his shoulders, bringing him back to reality. Frankie blinked his big brown eyes open.

“Fuckin’ finally!” Santi heaved a sigh and helped Frankie sit upright. “You okay?”

Blinking rapidly to jumpstart his brain, Frankie shrugged. “I dunno.” His voice sounded different to his own ears, and by the way Santi flinched at the raspy sound, Frankie knew he was in rough shape.

“We’ve been searching for you for days.” Santi glanced around at the roughshod condition of the aged lighthouse. “We spotted the light, finally. I’m shocked this thing is even working. Everything else is fried.”

“We spent days getting it to work,” Frankie replied groggily, not catching the confused expression on Santi’s face.

“We? Who, you and the mouse in your pocket?”

Frowning at Santi’s joke, Frankie shot to his feet and glanced around frantically. “Where is she? Where did she go?” Fighting off the lightheaded feeling, Frankie bolted down the stairs.

“Who? Francisco! Who the fuck are you talking about?” Santiago chased after his friend, catching him at the base of the lighthouse where Will waited, watching his brother root around in the sand.

“Where’s the fire, Fish?” Will asked when Frankie burst through the creaking door.

“God damnit, Frankie!” Santi grunted, catching the dark-haired man as he slumped to the ground. “Based on the looks of it, you haven’t had anything to eat or drink in days. You can’t be running off like that.”

Dark coffee eyes rolled around in his head, fighting to meet his friend’s gaze. “I need to find her, Pope. Help me find her.”

The others shared confused looks. “Who is he talking about?” Will asked.

“I have no idea,” Santi replied. “He just keeps asking where ‘she’ is.”

Shaking his head, Will bent a knee to be closer to Frankie. “There’s no one else here, Fish. Benny and I scoured the island. Everything here has been long abandoned.”

“No, no, that’s not possible! She was here with me. She helped me get the light working,” Frankie begged them to believe him, but even he was starting to doubt himself.

“Hey! Check this out!” Benny stepped back from where he wandered off, an aged glass bottle in his hand. Holding it up, he popped the top open and removed a rolled paper. “It’s like a message in a bottle.”

The four friends gathered around to read the letter.

To my dearest love,

As the waves crash against the rocks and the wind whispers through the lighthouse, my heart aches for you. Each passing day feels like an eternity without your touch, your laughter echoing through these empty halls.

I watch the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of your ship returning to me, carrying you back into my arms. The beacon of this lighthouse remains lit, a testament to my undying hope that our love will guide you home.

I have written endless messages, casting them into the sea, praying that one day, they will find you and bring you back to me. But my hope is growing dim, as is my life. I can feel the despair taking me apart, bit by bit, and soon, there will be nothing left of me but flesh and bone, and then nothing.

I will haunt this lighthouse for an eternity waiting for you.

Forever yours.

Frankie sucked in a shocked breath. Your name was signed at the bottom… and the date was marked as fifty years ago, to the day, according to Santi’s watch.

He reached for the letter, almost ripping it in his haste. You were but a ghost, a figment of his delirious imagination. He couldn’t believe it. He hallucinated and nearly fell in love with a ghost.

“Come on, let’s get outta here. We need to get Fish to a doctor,” Will said.

“Yeah, lesgo…” Frankie said absently, words blending as darkness swept him under again.

When he next came to it was in a hospital bed, an IV attached to his arm, with a woman who looked just like you checking his vitals.

“Hello, Frankie, it’s nice to see you awake,” you said with a bright smile. At the way he squinted his eyes, you added, “Does your head hurt?”

Frankie shook his head, unable to wrench his eyes away from yours.

“Do you feel any discomfort or pain?”

Again, he shook his head.

“So, what do you feel?” you asked with a cheeky wink.

“Hungry,” he grunted in return, pouty lips curving upwards at your tinkling laughter.

When Santi visited later that day, Frankie recounted his harrowing tale, including the parts about you. He listened quietly, brows furrowing for much of it. Once the story ended, Santi shook his head.

“Fish, we found you unconscious on a small, uninhabited island two days after the crash. It looked like you hadn’t moved from where you washed ashore. There was no lighthouse.” Santi broke the news gently, knowing Frankie was still out of it. “You must have dreamt it all.”

“No, that can’t be…” his voice faded to nothing.

fin

#almostfoxgloveangstchallenge #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie x f!reader #angst #confusion #dream or reality

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hawkflame999 · 7 months

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Ninjago Headcanons 13-16

#13:

“Elemental Master” is actually just the formal version of it. It’s really just “Elemental”.

So like, (going randomly) “Elemental Master of Ice”, is how they say it when they have to be formal. But otherwise, it’s just “Elemental of Ice”.

Every single Elemental in existence hates, just hates the formal version since it makes it sound like their power can be learned by literally anyone instead of inherited or chosen-by-previous-Elemental-of-(blank).

(like, they still have to learn to control it, but you get it)

I repeat, they HATE it.

#14:

The six have a LOT of nicknames for eachother, the number is INSANE.

But there are several nicknames that are solely passed down from Elemental to Elemental.

These are: Zane’s: Ice, White, Blizzard, Ice Dragon, and Frost.

Kai: Fire, Red, and Fire Dragon. (sry couldn’t come up with any more.)

Cole: Earth, Rock, Cave, Stone, Black, Mountain, and Earth Dragon.

Jay: Lightning, Thunder, (sry i couldn’t resist) Cyan, Electricity, Blackout, and Lightning Dragon,

Nya: Water, Sea, River, (other names of bodies of water) Pond, Stream, Ocean, (they stopped using that one after Seabound) Lake, Rain, and Water Dragon. Me: *says “other names of body of water” but proceeds to type those anyway* Lloyd: Green, Energy, Life, (A lot of Lloyd’s nicknames are related to his element because he’s the first Energy Ninja in existence)

#15:

As for the other nicknames….. >:D Zane: Frosty, Whiteout, Ice Cube, Ninjacle, (reference to Pilots, I think) Ice Tornado, Icicle, Snowy, Snow, Falcon Boy, Braincell-Number-One (I think that last one is Sensei G’s fault) Tincan, and Polar Bear. Those are the ones I came up with on the spot.

Another inside-joke-nickname is Living Ice Cube or Alive Ice Cube.

Kai: Flamethrower, Fiery, Hothead, Campfire, Hot Air, and Fire Tornado.

Another inside-joke-nickname is Living Flamethrower or Alive Flamethrower.

Cole: Rocky, Rockman, Rockman, Dirtbrain, Dirtclod, Mud, Rockslide, Earthquake, Earth Tornado, Righty and Lefty (reference to Earth Punch) and Boulder.

Another inside-joke-nickname is Living Rock or (the one they used the most) Alive Rock or Alive Mountain..

Jay: Sparky, Sparks, Zaptrap, Zappy, Shock, Blackout, (Jay had caused many, after all) JJ, Jaybird, Insane Idea Man, Blabbermouth, Stormy, Bolt, and Lightning Tornado.

Another inside-joke-nickname is Living Lightning Bolt or Alive Lightning Bolt.

Nya: Mostly the ones up above, except they also call her Water Tornado, Braincell-Number-Two, (I think that last one is Sensei G’s fault), and Tsunami.

Another inside-joke-nickname is Alive Tsunami and Living Tsunami.

Lloyd: Green Bean, Bush, Grasshopper, Buddy, Kiddo (Also Sensei G’s fault), Little Brother, (ALL OF THE OTHEٍR FIVE WITH USE THAT ON HIM) Incarnation of the Word Hyperactive, Nephew, (MASTER WU WILL NEVER LET THAT ONE UP) and so many more, if i tried to type them all my fingers would fall off.

#16:

Master Wu has his nicknames for the six. Even as they got older, he never did and probably never will let up on them.

Zane: “Young/ Little Frost."

Kai: “Young/Little Flame."

Cole: “Young/Little Rock (Sry could not come up with better)

Jay: “Young/Little Spark.

Nya: “Young/Little Drop (AARRRRHHGG CAN'T COME UP WITH BETTER)

Lloyd: “Young/Little Burst (Y’know BURST of Energy)

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kustas · 3 months

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Do you have reccs for "ugly" art (manga, comics, movie, etc.)? Thanks for the Tekkon recs btw I really liked it

That really depends on your own personal media landscape and what your definition of "ugly" is! As a random example, I've seen many people call ONE's art ugly because of the wobbly linework when I think it's lovely. Ugly could also mean something a bit shocking/crass in its themes. Etc, etc... I'm going to go with the definition of "something that's a bit jarring to look at or go through" here :)

Disclaimer: a lot of these tackle sensitive topics, sometimes for fun and not always tastefully. If there's themes you really can't handle in media, do your research before looking into them.

Manga

I keep recommending yes because it rules but Dorohedoro and its scratchy messy art and gore galore. talking about the manga exclusively here the anime is too polished for my taste

God's Child (Kami no Kodomo): tbh this one is for the art only I hated the writing. very gruesome & unique looking short story

I hesitate to recommend this one because it's edgy as hell but I shan't lie I had a lot of fun with Hellsing. it's "bad" in the same areas as something like berserk but unlike that one it does not take itself seriously

if you liked Tekkon i strongly suggest trying out more stuff by its author (saying this with immense biais). the most ugly/messy thing i've read of his, which isn't a lot because i find his work very delicate, is No. 5 which i would less describe as "good" than "very compelling to me". i also recommend this wonderful essay tearing it down

Comics (non JP)

FLEEP: a short story about a man who wakes up in a phone cabin seemingly encased in concrete. one of the comics i always recommend for its length and storytelling. (link leads to the artist's website where you can read it for free!)

The Astonishing Exploits Of Lucien Brindavoine: a young artist gets drafted in the first world war and goes through a series of almost supernatural adventures. beyond the adventure book aspect, a harsh criticism of nationalism/patriotism that's still awfully relevant

Animation

Ruben Brandt: Collector: a psychiatrist suffers from strange art related nightmares ruining his life. his clients, a bunch of high profile criminals, decide to help him fight off his demons by organizing one long vacation where they steal every painting involved. extremely unique visually, a fun heist movie with thriller elements.

Junk Head: goofy post apocalyptic movie about a man on a quest to save, who keeps losing sight his goal because cartoony violence episodes have his head tumble into new lows, literally. this is, perhaps, one of my favorite animated films ever, it's earnest and fun and lovingly crafted. very unique of a watch

The Apostle: freshly escaped from prison, a thief is on a mission to find treasure hidden by his old cellmate, and finds himself stuck in an ancient village who's strange looking elderly inhabitants are way too insistent on his stay. classic spooky folktale with its millennial curses and foreboding warnings, it's also a nice peek into the culture of Galicia and old world medieval weirdass catholicism. you can buy a DVD on their website

MKFZ: dumb as hell high adrenaline animated B movie with excellent animation. there's a plot about alien living undercover in fantasy california but you don't watch this kind of film for the plot. fair warning this is adapted from a french comic so of course, it's crass and racist

Blow to the Head - Lightning bolt: awesome music video (YT link)(warning for flashing/strobing lights if you're sensitive to that!)

Canon Fodder: from the Memories omnibus film. little slice of the life of a fantasy war obsessed industrial nation

with its new movie on the horizon, it's a great time to get into Mononoke, despite traditionally pretty visuals its got a unique style and gets pretty offputting

Live action cinema

7:35 in the morning: short film about the fear in improvised musical numbers where you don't expect any. it's on youtube in bad quality

The Draughtsman's Contract: an artist is hired by a Lady to draw several vistas of her house, in exchange for money, good drawing condition, and the Lady. follows a good hour of cunts in powdery wigs being awful to each other for their own gain. if you're into dark humor it's a good test, otherwise it has a really satisfying murder mystery to follow too.

Three Kings: during the gulf war, a group of US soldiers decide to steal Hussein's gold for themselves under the mighty standard of kuwait's loot repatriation. extremely caustic take on good ol murican international politics. i was shocked at how far it goes and it's express, low budget treatment which i did not expect from a hollywood film. the movie tires itself fast and becomes less good in its second half but the it's opening acts are interesting

Delicatessen: a sliver of humanity survives in an old timey stone building in the middle of nothingness on top of a functional butcher's shop. gossip follows the arrival of a new roommate. how does one even maintain a butchery in a no man's land? weird film with a unique(ly goofy) take on the post apocalyptic genre

Other

For traditional artists, I like the works of Beksinski (<3), Schiele, Giger. For modern artists Oleg Vdovenko (heavy gore warning for that one), Jeff Simpson

I'm less a fan of the MV and live performances they got infamous for than their music proper but I really like the band Cardiacs, who's judged by many of my friends to be extremely hard to get into lol.

#ask

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tparker48 · 1 year

Text

The vehicle turned as the bus moved through the cemented road, turning around the corner as the individual houses turned into towering buildings. The bus’ speed began to slow, tires squeaking as it stopped at a slim building. Uncle Ryan held his grumbling stomach, stepping off the metal steps to the sidewalk as the doors closed behind him. Departing, he looked to the window as the drenched shortstack from before glared at him, flipping him as it moved down the street. That little guy really did a number in there, he could still feel the faint sensation of their struggles beneath his gut. It was a true shame he couldn't eat him, but there were too many eyes lurking for him to do that.

He turned into the alleyway behind him, Cracks streaking through the walls like lightning bolts as they dragged into the chipped bricks in their structure. He followed along its narrow pathway to the opening further ahead, kicking away clumps of trash as barrels blocked the side of the walls. His stomach threw a tantrum, grumbling as it yearned for its fill.

"Easy there, bessy, you'll get some food. Though we might have to walk a bit before we fin-" pebbles sprinkled along his head, dust splashing over him in a large cloud.. "What the?.."

He looked to the building next to him, a man in construction gear to sawing the cement at the ceiling. As they pressed their weight into their gear, more dust collected on Ryan's face, catching in his mouth as grains grinded in his teeth.

"Hey! Watch where you're sawing!"

The construction worker lifted his helmet, soot wrapping around his face like a mask. "What?"

"I said, watch where you're sawing. People are trying to walk, you know." Ryan said.

"This area is under demolition, which means bystanders are not allowed here. So piss off!."

. "Demolition? there's signs out here genius."

“Look around ya, what part of this alleyway says it's in condition for idiots to move in? Take the detour route like everybody else.”

The nerve of this guy, Ryan thought. His stomach grumbled, thrusting from his palm like an aggressive dog. He pulled it back, cradling his arms around it, but it's grumbles still remained. He was too high up, and there was no ladders for him to climb to retrieve him.. Fanning the air, he walked away from the building, dusting the bristley pebbles from his hair.

"That's what I thought." The construction worker said, flicking his metal gard over his head back on as he turned back on his machine.

Pushing his saw into the ceiling, it incised a corner as it split in half, guiding itself to the dried clay separating themselves from the bricks. They pushed deeper as the saw cut into the connecting lines,but stopped as his platform fell an inch. cracks formed along the cement, growing in size as pieces fell from the platform. As streaks circled around the worker, the floor came undone as they dropped from the sky. Ryan stopped as cement smashed into the pavement, turning back to the ceiling to the troublesome worker. They hanged from their safety strap like bait on a hook, suspended along the first floor as rubble collapsed to the ground. He walked back, standing just enough to avoid the falling debris..

"Well just don’t stand there, Get help!"

Ryan crossed his arms, smirking as he reveled at the display. "Oh no, I don’t intrude. Idiots aren’t supposed to be here right?"

"Forget what I said! Get help."

"Hate to break it ya but this is an abandoned place, all you got is little old me." Ryan said. "However, I could try and catch you."

"Catch me?! Are you crazy?!"

"Not at all, you'd be surprised at what this gut can catch" Ryan licked his lips of the rocky particles, rubbing over his stomach. "But if you want to be human pendulum, I won't stop you"

He turned around, taking the path back to civilization as cars moved by. He could hear the gears in the strap begin to grind, the cracks widening as rubble tapped at the ground. Amongst wires swinging.

the worker cursed to himself as Ryan moved further."Damn it fine, I'll do it."

Ryan stopped, returning back to the dangling worker. "I knew you'd see it my way. "

"You better not drop me, or I'll have your ass."

"I would never, just be sure to pencil on the way down." Ryan said.

The worker groaned as he took to the strap, unsheathing a pocket knife from his pouch as he pointed the jagged end to the side of it. He yanked the cord as the strap severed, the worker dropping like a pin as hurtled toward the ground. Ryan licked his lips, his gaping as the top of his nose blocked his view of the worker.

His gullet widened. Saw dust coating his tongue as the worker's body deposited into his own. Their clothes were salty, greasy as sweat mixed in with their clothes. He picked a scent of aftershave along them, but barely had enough to before they shot further inside. His gullet expanded, his gut plonking onto his waist like a full trash back. "Oh man, that really hit the spot."

"Ok you caught me, now can you cough me up? All this liquid's soaking into my gear."

"About that.." Ryan paused, taking a breath as air raced into his stomach. A heavy belch escaped from him, his body wrapping around the worker as limbs squished together. "I don't think I could cough you up."

"What! You said you would catch mel."

"Right, ‘catch’, but I didn't say anything about letting you back out." Ryan said. He caressed over his gut, kicking over the saw as he waddled down the pathway.

Dents punch the walls of his stomach, handprints stretching into them like a ghost as distorted shouts came from within. It was an admirable struggle he must admit, he almost felt bad for them if not for his hunger. Almost. But who was he to deny his stomach such a great meal. A death mask bulged from the top of his gut, yelling into the pudgy fat to the outside world. But to his dismay, his words would not reach anyone, not in this alleyway. And Ryan was going to keep it that way.

Ryan smiled, his freehand tracing over the faint face before he smashed it back inside. "Oh quit pouting, Your making my stomach want you more."

He made his way to the end of the alleyway, cars passing by as they turned the corner. It was time to continue his day. his belly was fed and well accompanied with his bonafide snack. Though even he questioned how long that would last. As the worker began to bulge, he grabbed the top of his shirt, and pulled it over his round gut. "Now be a good little worker and make my gut fatter, I can tell your going to be one hard stool when I shit you out later."

#oral vore #Implied digestion #size difference

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amaya-writes · 2 years

Note

Could you do the “getting a tattoo of them/something that represents them” with some of the mha boys please?

Notes: why does this sound like such a cute idea-

Warnings: n/a, just kisses and fluff

Characters involved: Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki, Denki Kaminari, Bakugo Katsuki

Gender-neutral reader, you/yours

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku is shocked, to say the least.

He's never thought someone would want to brand themselves with something related to him even for a second, much less permanently.

It's why he can't believe his eyes when he sees the numbers of his birthday on the inside of your wrist.

He doesn't even say anything for the first few seconds because he's just too busy running his fingers over every small detail of your tattoo.

When Izuku finally finds it in himself to speak, the only words he can form are questions about why, how and when you had gotten the tattoo.

He thinks its surreal that someone like you, someone he perceives as the height of perfection, would want to be branded with something related to him.

You should get used to him staring at your tattoo because he does it A LOT.

When you're cuddling, when you're holding hands, when he's trailing kisses all over you and simultaneously rambling about the new villain he fought.

After a month or so Izuku chooses to get a tattoo of you too, branding the inside of his right wrist with your birthday.

All of your friends think the matching tattoos are adorable and his fans have entire forums dedicated to aesthetic pictures of you holding hands with your tattoos against each other's.

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto actually breaks down the first time he sees your tattoo.

It's a simple and elegant scrawl of his name in your handwriting sitting under your collarbone.

You had considered getting something more subtle but you didn't want him to think of sour past with his quirk every time he saw the tattoo.

You wanted Shoto to feel loved. To know exactly how much you cherished him. And the only way to do that was with the simple yet meaningful name you had come to love.

When you first unveiled the tattoo to him Shoto couldn't help but pull you onto his lap to get a closer look at the ink.

You didn't realize when the soft touch of his fingertips ghosting over your tattoo was replaced with salty tears, but before you knew you found yourself carefully cradling him in your arms as you silently waited for him to process his emotions.

Unlike the others, Shoto's never felt love like this before. He's never had a parent or guardian who loved him (outside of Fuyumi but that's too complicated). Every child has that one person who they know will always love them, that person who has always cared for them throughout their life.

But Shoto never had that. Not until he had you.

It's why he feels so overwhelmed by your love, because even after years of being together he still can't comprehend how you could love someone like him so awfully much.

Just like Izuku, Shoto is always kissing your tattoo whenever you cuddle. He also gets a matching tattoo of your name, but Shoto goes one step further and tattoos your first name's initial with his last name (so your letter then T) on the side of his ring finger.

You never really notice the second tattoo until the day he proposes and you slide his ring onto his finger.

Denki Kaminari

Unlike the others Denki actually gets a matching tattoo with you.

You brought up couple tattoos once and he was just so excited at the idea of getting matching tattoos behind your ears that you couldn't help but agree to get yours with him rather than surprising him.

To make things more special Denki decides to get the tattoos done on the anniversary of the day the two of you met (which was the first day of school but he chooses to ignore that).

You got a simple lightning bolt done behind your earlobe and Denki got a matching symbol of your quirk. The tattoos weren't loud and bold like everything else the two of you did, but they didn't have to be.

They were a symbol of your love for each other, not a flashy excuse to show off your relationship.

Bakugo Katsuki

Finger tattoos.

Bakugo always loved playing with your hands. Kissing them, holding them, softly caressing them under the table when you were in public.

He's never been one for PDA and didn't grow up in the most affectionate household either, which is why Katsuki relishes in how easy it is to express his affection with his hands.

One small touch, an interlocking of fingers or quick peck on the back of your hand, is enough to communicate his affection for you.

Others wouldn't understand how much that means to the two of you. To them a finger tattoo is probably a cute little gesture, but to Katsuki it's so much more than that.

He almost immediately notices your tattoo when you come home because Katsuki's used to holding and playing with your hand.

The small black imprint of his initials makes his ears turn red and his heart swell, even if he won't admit it.

Katsuki doesn't have to ask if it's permanent or not because your red skin is enough of an answer.

He just stays staring at the tattoo with his thumb delicately trailing over it and doesn't even say a word.

Katsuki will call you a dumbass later and say you didn't have to do something as 'stupid' as that but you both know he's beyond flattered by the gesture.

He also finds it funny that you got it on the side of your middle finger because 'whenever you flip someone off they'll know who taught you that'.

Literally gets a matching tattoo the next day, maybe even the same day depending on when he sees it.

Katsuki doesn't bother showing you the tattoo because just like him you almost immediately notice the black ink of your initials on the side of his middle finger.

Your tattoos are pretty subtle and the only time people actually notice them is when Bakugo flips someone off (or does a finger heart with a fan, etc.)

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