#wanted to get high but got this instead ha

[brainfuzz]

That's....kind of an obnoxious take. Like I know nothing about art. But I can tell it takes skill to do what he's doing. I mean, the paint tray has to be loaded the right way, with the right amount of each color, hung at the right angle so the paint comes out steadily at the right rate so it gets enough on the canvas, but not too much that it runs out. He needs to push the tray at the right angle and speed so it remains over the canvas, yet goes consistently to the edges.

The first push gets a blob of colors on the canvas, yet the first swirl of the tray covers that up so there's a clear pattern. I have no idea what's going on that creates those holes in the ribbon, but I can only assume they were intentional (because if they weren't, they'd be considered mistakes and nobody posts their mistakes) even if the exact placement was not.

He's also got to move the canvas at the right speed - its not consistent through the paint tray swirling - so he gets the shape he wants instead of just seeing what happens if the canvas was in a consistent motion like on a conveyor belt. He also prepped that canvas and chose what color to make it. I think having the bright colors on a black canvas makes them stand out more than if they were on a white one. But again, I know less than nothing about art, so I could be wrong. Basically, it seems to me that instead of painting with a brush, he's actually painting with a canvas, moving it to get the colors where he wants.

But most importantly, you have no idea what his education is. He could have a Master of Fine Arts degree, he could have an Associate's degree in math, he could have no more (or not even) a high school diploma. But he thought of a different way to paint, figured out the hardware to make it happen, executed it probably more times than I want to think about in order to achieve the result he wanted, and then showed it to us. Hell, it could have taken him two years to master this technique, we don't know from this short video.

Is it the same as the paintings you make by painstakingly blending and painting each color? No. But then neither is digital art, and yet that also takes skill.

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. … instead we’re moving slow, i guess she’s used to it by now.

05, CHAPTER FIVE. YOU BETTER START THINKING.

ju speaks. i procrastinated this so bad lol but i have some time over the break to get some stuff out (more hoaw chapters) so yay! pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. sexual innuendos.

present day, june 2025.

i’m not sure why i let it happen again.

scratch that—i know exactly why. i just don’t want to admit it to myself. it’s always like this with paige and me. a spark, a touch, a stupid comment or argument that turns into something much bigger, much harder to control. we’ve been here before, over and over, in different cities, in different beds, pretending like this time will be the last time. it should’ve been.

the last couple of weeks have been easier than i expected, softer in a way i didn’t know we were capable of. i’m starting to think it’s too good to be true. paige hasn’t been running from me, hasn’t been trying to prove something every second of our time together. maybe that’s why i’ve let my guard down, just a little.

she’s still herself, of course. cocky, loud, and incapable of stilling. but she’s been showing up. not just physically but in the ways i used to hope for back when we were together the first time. it’s in the way she looks at me when she thinks i’m not paying attention, like she did in high school when she told me she never wanted to let go of me. it’s in the way she texts me good morning before i can even think about reaching for my phone, like she’s trying to prove she can still be someone i want to wake up to.

and maybe, stupidly, i’m starting to believe her.

not completely, not yet. paige bueckers has always been good at saying the right things, making promises she’s not ready to keep. but these past weeks, it’s like she’s trying to remind me who she was before everything got so messy. the version of her i fell for in the first place.

but when she’s here, like this? it’s so hard to remember why i ever tried to stay away.

paige is stretched out on her back, arm slung around me, fingers tracing patterns absentmindedly on my shoulder. the sheets are tangled around her bare legs, and she shifts slightly, the motion sending a faint brush of her skin against mine. i glance up at her, and the smug smirk already curling at her lips tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“you staring at me, nai?” she asks. her voice is rough and a little husky from sleep as she stretches. my eyes flash to her exposed abdomen.

“don’t flatter yourself,” i mutter, though it is so obviously a front.

“tooooo late,” she drawls, shifting again so she’s propped up on one elbow, the other hand sliding up to lazily run along my arm. “you’re terrible at pretending you’re not obsessed, by the way.”

i roll my eyes, trying to hide the way my breath hitches at her touch. “says the girl who texted me five times in a row last night because i didn’t answer fast enough.” i lean back against the pillow, staring up at her, and i swear i could forever.

paige’s grin widens, shameless as she looks away. “i mean, what was i ‘posed to do? sit there and wait? nah, i had to apply pressure.” the smugness on her face tells me she’s having way too much fun with this, fun with me.

i snort, shaking my head as i get up, swinging a leg over her and straddling her waist casually. “pressure? you called me a ‘certified flake’ and threatened to pull up if i didn’t respond.”

paige lets out a low laugh, her hands instinctively finding my thighs as i settle over her. “yeah, and look where it got me.” she licks her lips, smirk softening as her eyes flicker over my face, lingering on my lips that are curled up into a smile. “don’t act like you didn’t like the attention.”

i arch a brow, tilting my head to the side. “oh, is that what we’re calling it now?”

her hands tighten on my thighs, smirk faltering for just a second before she regains composure. “mhm. attention. you’re welcome.”

i roll my eyes but don’t pull away, my hands bracing on her chest. how could i? “you’re such a problem.” i bring the comforter we shared last night up over my back, and its like a tent giving us privacy from the sun of my windows. i really need some black-out curtains or something.

“and you love it,” she fires back, her voice dropping, teasing, as her fingers trail upwards, stopping just far enough.

i do. God, i really do.

i smile, and i swear my face hurts from it as i lean down to kiss her. again and again, each one leaving paige chasing after my lips. i savor the moment. i’m not sure how long it’ll be like this, but i like it. a lot. i pull back, resting my head on her chest, breathing in her morning scent as she bites down on her lip in reminiscence.

“tell me i’m wrong,” she murmurs.

i laugh, more of a pity chuckle just because she’s so full of herself. i furrow my eyebrows just slightly, bringing my hand to a resting point right by my face. “i’m not telling you shit, bueckers.”

“yeah? but you didn’t say i was wrong.”

i don’t want to admit it, not to her, not even to myself, but paige knows me better than anyone. she always has. it’s infuriating and comforting all at once, the way she sees through me like i’m an open book. i’m not an open book. i never have been, but for paige…

she doesn’t press, though. she never does when it really matters. she just watches me with that maddening half-smile, her fingers brushing over my skin like she has all the time in the world, and i know she’s waiting for me to say it. to give in.

maybe that’s why i keep coming back. or maybe it’s because she’s the only person who’s ever made me feel this much all at once—frustration, want, affection, something i’m not ready to name. whatever it is, it’s why i don’t pull away, why i let her keep pulling me closer even when i know i should stop.

i shift, the sheets rustling beneath us, and my chest tightens. not about what she said, but what i’m forcing myself to think about. i hate how much i want this, how much i want her, even after everything. especially after everything. but its addicting, and i know she feels the same.

“maybe i’m just a sucker for this,” i mutter, low enough that i’m not sure she hears it.

but of course she does.

she nearly breaks her neck to look down at me. she doesn’t let the words settle. “nah, you a sucker for me.”

i roll my eyes again, avoiding her gaze, but i don’t argue. instead, i lift my head again as i prop myself up on her chest. “what makes you so sure?” it’s a stupid question, but i was fully ready for her to read me.

paige’s smile turns smugger. “because you’re here,” she says simply. “and you’re smiling like that.”

i scoff, trying to play it off, but the way she’s looking at me makes it impossible. i lean down, pressing my lips to hers again, even slower this time. how could i stay away from her when kisses me like this? i feel the way her mouth curves, realizing she’s smiling too.

my hand slides up to cup her face, and she pulls me just a little closer by the small of my back, grip tight like always, like she’s scared i’ll slip. it’s not rushed—in fact, we have a couple hours to be entangled like this before having to part—it’s intentional. like she’s got all the time in the world and wants me to feel it.

and i do.

“it’s—mhm—okay,” paige says, and i find her muffled words rather cute as i shift my hips up, pushing my lips further into hers. her hand slides up my bare back, fiddling with the clasp of my bra. “i am too.”

i pull away, sitting up a little straighter as i quirk a brow at her. “you’re what?” i ask. i decide to help her out, unclasping my bra, but holding the straps up over my chest until she’s finished speaking.

her eyes fall, tongue swiping over her swollen, pink lips. i’m teasing her, i know it, paige definitely knows it. but as she brings her hands up slowly, tearing my own away, i almost forget what i was doing to her in the first place, suddenly fully exposed. i hear her breath hitch. “a big, fat sucker for you.”

i bite back a smile despite her unserious words, because they always make me do that. i roll my eyes, cusping her mouth into my hand playfully as she laughs, shaking out of it.

paige doesn’t hesitate.

she attaches her lips to my collarbone, trails down to the curve of my chest. i look down, and if i didn’t know any better, i’d say paige bueckers is absolutely enamored with me. “so beautiful, baby,” she huskily says, her hands grounding my hips against her as she moves to my tits, attacking the marks she’d left last night so roughly it has my breathing going faster.

i tangle a hand in her hair, fingers tightening reflexively, and it’s like i can’t look away. her face, her lips—every detail feels seared into my memory. “for real,” she continues, and when she looks up at me unexpectedly, lips curving into a small grin, it’s like i’ve completely checked out.

i’m not me anymore, i’m whatever paige wants me to be.

“need you framed or somethin’.” it’s a joke. clearly a joke, nailea. but the way she’s making me feel makes it land differently.

“framed, huh?” i manage.

“yeah,” she replies proudly, like it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever said. “you know, like for the crib. big centerfold. maybe as my lock screen too.”

i can’t help it—i laugh, shaking my head, closing my eyes momentarily as i pretend her words aren’t setting me closer to giving myself to her completely. “you’re so stupid,” i mutter.

paige doesn’t flinch, her grin only widening as she dips her head again, her lips brushing over the swell of my chest. “nah, just honest,” she murmurs against my skin, and the way her voice vibrates there nearly makes me lose it.

i force myself to breathe, leaning back slightly as her hands wander. “maybe you can,” i blurt out without thinking, and she pauses, glancing up at me again.

“what you talkin’ about?” she asks.

i don’t answer right away, leaning over to grab the pink polaroid camera sitting on my nightstand. it’s old and clunky, a relic from freshman year that my dad had given me, and i’d kept it more out of nostalgia than utility. now, though, it feels like fate.

it always does with us.

when i sit back, holding the camera up, paige’s eyes light up, her grin widening into something more troublesome. “nai,” she drags out.

i lift my eyebrows, playing along, like i don’t already know where this is headed. “i’m listening.”

“you not serious,” she shakes her head, voice etched with some laughter. she doesn’t believe it, yet she still tilts her head, sizing me up like she’s already planning the perfect angle.

“thought you wanted me framed, p,” i counter, poking my bottom lip out as i lift the camera a little higher.

her grin deepens, tongue flicking over her teeth as she leans back just enough, hands sliding up and down my legs, creating some sort of friction. she hesitates. “you sure?”

i pretend to think for a moment before responding. “hmm, depends. you gonna cooperate?”

paige chuckles. “oh, i’ll cooperate.” she shifts again, her posture loosening as she leans back against the headboard, one arm draping casually over her head, the other trailing down to rest just between my legs. shes so sexy it’s almost overwhelming. her grin is the same as always, blue hues pierced into me.

“go on then,” she urges. “show me how you see me, baby.”

i adjust the camera into focus, fingers fumbling over the different buttons i’m sure i’ll have to show her have to work before snapping the first photo. the flash and the sun combined cast her in a perfect light, and though she’ll look less defined in the old pixels, the sight’s engraved in my head now.

the whir of the camera fills the room, and the polaroid slides out, landing softly against her chest. paige grabs it, holding it up with a satisfied smirk as the image slowly develops, inspecting it like it’s a prize. she glances at me, her expression softening just a little. “i’m bettin’ you could do better.”

“oh, you think so?” i shoot back, handing her the camera.

“mhm. there a timer on this thing?”

i step out of the shower and into my room, shivering a little as i pull the towel tighter around my chest. paige, completely the opposite temperature of me, must have messed with my thermostat.

i silently curse her for getting so comfortable.

she’s still here, tall figure leaning over the bed she made up. she’s wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts and her sports bra, her phone in one hand, the other lazily shuffling through the scattered polaroids we just took.

“what you doin’?” i ask, tilting my head at her as i walk over, water droplets trailing down my legs.

paige glances up, her blue eyes gleaming like i’ve interrupted something i should’ve known better than to question. “you thought i was lying about my lock screen?” she smugly says, holding up her phone.

i keep my eyes on her, not knowing what to expect as i move closer, the faintest tug of a grin threatening my lips. “what’d you do?” i mutter, snatching her phone to check it for myself.

sure enough, the lock screen now features a series of the pictures we’d taken. i blink, and i think my boiling, hot shower just cleansed every dirty thought i had before getting in, because i don’t remember us being this fucking horny. my cheeks flush despite myself. “paige, you cannot keep this on your phone.”

she strokes her chin, lowly laughing at my reaction. “why not? looks good, don’t it?”

i shake my head as i fight back every inch of amusement that wants to take over me. “it’s unhinged,” i retort, though the corner of my mouth betrays me. a part of me wants her to keep it.

she looks at me, completely unfazed. “everything we just did is unhinged.” well…

before i can think of a snappy comeback, there’s a sudden knock at the front door, loud and authoritative. my heart leaps, and i freeze. paige stiffens too, her smile faltering just slightly.

“shit,” i mutter, tossing her phone back on the bed. “put a shirt on.”

paige doesn’t move immediately, still grinning like she thinks this is funny.

“now, p!” i urge, hitting her arm and scrambling toward my closet for a robe.

“aight, aight,” she finally says, scurrying over and grabbing a shirt off the back of a chair. she takes her time pulling it on, moving like this isn’t urgent, like we’re not one knock away from being exposed.

but then there’s another knock, louder this time. not from the front door—this one is right outside the bedroom.

the fuck?

i freeze, my hand still on the closet door, dread pooling in my stomach.

paige’s eyes widen as realization dawns on her. “yo, who has a key to your apartment?” she mouths, grabbing the polaroids and shoving them under the pillow in a panic.

i shake my head as if to tell her i wouldn’t know before squaring my shoulders, trying to channel a calm i don’t feel. If i act casual, maybe—just maybe—i can smooth this over. except i don’t know who it is. we don’t know who it is. i tie the robe around myself and open the door slowly, preparing for the worst.

and there she is. cameron brink.

her arms are crossed as she scans the room, and she doesn’t have a reaction to paige’s presence in the slightest bit. i speak first. “how’d you—“ i start, but she cuts me off, holding up a pink key decorated with yellow daisies attached to her keychain.

well, shit.

“i had a feeling i’d need this,” she says coolly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “and your locations.” her eyes flick over my robe, then to paige standing awkwardly by the bed, and then back to me.

“bye, paige,” she says pointedly, not even giving her the courtesy of a glance as she busies herself by stuffing her keys into her purse.

paige hesitates, looking between me and cam, clearly debating whether to say something. i’ve got my own arms crossed, chewing down on my lip like a kid in trouble. she takes the hint, and finally, she steps toward me, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before grabbing her phone and heading toward the door. “i’ll… catch you later.”

if it weren’t for the predicament we were in, i’d call her adorable.

the door closes behind her, leaving me alone with cam, and i don’t even have to look at her to know what’s coming.

“really?”

i roll my eyes, crossing my arms tighter against my chest. i shouldn’t be upset with her though. i’m deflecting. “you stalking me now?”

cam smirks, but there’s no humor in it. “i came to apologize for what happened at the bar,” she says. “in person, because i haven’t seen you. but now i know why—you’ve been busy.” her voice has something etched in it, almost like she’s disappointed in me, but at the same time, knew.

i look away, fingers curling around the fabric of my robe. “it’s not like that,” i mutter, but even i don’t believe it. not really. it is like that. and maybe i’m just too tired of pretending i can stay away.

“isn’t it? i thought you were done with her,” she says, her brows raising like she’s daring me to lie.

i let out a breath, awkwardly keeping my hands to my sides as i sit on the edge of the bed. “me too.”

“then why is she leaving your apartment like a one-night stand?”

“because—” i start, but the words stick in my throat. what was i supposed to say? that seeing paige nearly every day had unraveled every ounce of willpower i had? that being around her felt like falling into an old habit, comfortable and impossible to resist?

“you try having your ex-girlfriend get drafted to the team you work for,” i say finally.

still, she rambles. “and maya?” cam presses. she’s so worried about it you’d think it was her problem. “they’re seeing each other, you know that, right?”

i close my eyes for a moment, guilt clawing at my chest. that wasn’t fair. “we haven’t…” i trail off, shaking my head. “we haven’t been thinking that far.”

cam exhales, hand running down her face. “that’s the problem, nai. you’re not thinking.”

her words settle into the room, a bit harsh for me to hear, but not untrue. and maybe that’s what stings the most—that i’ve been avoiding this conversation with myself for weeks. the truth is, i haven’t thought about anything beyond the way paige makes me feel when she’s close, the way her voice drops when she says my name, the way her hands feel like they’re meant to pull me back in no matter how far i run. i haven’t thought about maya, about what it would mean for her to find out, about how i’d explain myself if it came to that. i haven’t thought about the job i fought so hard to get, and how quickly it could all fall apart if this got out.

i look at cam. she looks like she’s seen this all before. she hasn’t. she hasn’t even seen half of it and wants better for me. she loves us both, i know that. but apart better than together.

i bite my lip, frustration pooling in my gut as i try to put my thoughts together. somehow, the only thing i can think about is how this isn’t just paige and i’s secret anymore, and i should fight to keep it under wraps until we figure it out. “please don’t tell maya,” i plead.

cam looks at me, her expression unreadable for a long moment before she sits down beside me, close but not touching. “you know i won’t.” i feel a sense of relief. “but promise me you’ll start thinking. about how this affects your job. about you.” she chuckles dryly, emphasizing that i don’t really have a choice.

i suppose she’s right. she is right.

[myceliacrochet]

Reblog if answer tysm!!

Eleven Urgent Campaigns

Hey guys, I know several people are waiting on me right now to make posts for you, and I apologize🩷🩷🩷 I am struggling to get everything done on my to-do list, especially since it is hard for me to get as much done due to disabilities, but rest assured that most of the items on my to-do list are for Palestinians🩷🇵🇸🍉 I made a lot of progress tonight on flyers to distribute in person for several families -- @manal-ghorab3, @sham-moner, Hala, Ayat, and Fatima. I also worked on job applications and my application for government assistance so that I can keep doing this work and so I can have a small amount to donate.

For now, I want to draw attention to several campaigns, each of which are urgent:

🇵🇸 Contact the WHO to ask them to evacuate nine-year-old Mohammed Alchear now for EMERGENCY LIFESAVING TREATMENT instead of in less than two weeks, when the child would be dead. The WHO has the permission of Israel, they just need to move quickly before the child passes.

🇵🇸 Hala and her daughters are starving to death in north Gaza, where all life is being exterminated at an even higher rate than the rest of Gaza. Hala said they are praying that an angel will save them. Hala's campaign is dangerously stagnant and needs extra support because applying for vetting will be a challenge for her due to loss of hope.

🇵🇸 Ayat (26) and her one- and two-year-olds are also starving to death and in serious danger in north Gaza. Like everyone on this list, they desperately need emergency food, provisions, and evacuation.

🇵🇸 Moneer (19) just got out of major surgery, and his family -- who just lost two extended members to a raid -- is struggling to find most of the basic necessities, even clean water.

🇵🇸 Mariam, her little girl, and her baby are stranded in a refugee camp in Syria so dangerous that the organization that ran it, the World Food Programme, no longer brings food. She is trying to keep her head up. Like every Palestinian family I am advocating for, Mariam's family is freezing cold. She has enough food for the end of the month, but not enough cooking fuel, and she needs power.

🇵🇸 Sameer al-Kilani's (21) campaign is dangerously stagnant and he is starving. He needs community support.

🇵🇸 Neveen and her four children feel abandoned and overlooked by the world, and they are getting flooded with icy cold rains.

🇵🇸 Manal and her family of five need medical attention and emergency food, and their campaign needs more consistent support.

*Edit: Her GoFundMe campaign keeps getting shut down, and she just lost all her campaign money for technical reasons. Please help this family gain back the donated money they keep losing!!

🇵🇸 Shorouq, Sameer, and their three kids need the same, and they fear for the coming winter of even worse flooding, freezing, and famine.

I might need to post using this kind of format in the future for time's sake so I can get to everyone... Let's see how this one goes

@erectiledisfigurement @vague-humanoid @plomegranate @rainbowywitch @chronicsheepdeprivation @danielladadasworld @win-rrar @shizukateal @sweetsweethate @hexxeh @heydreamchild @knavewoods @katherinefh @variouscontent @blvvdyindustries @morelinesandscribbles @monstermashpotato @wellsbering @tolbachik @akajustmerry @comrademango @superdragonjpeg-thing @afropiscesism @ihavenotfallenyet @fly-sky-high-09 @remindertoclick @slowbrobutch @insanitysmiles @wirehairwiredstare @everypores @pregnantseinfeld @seeyouguyslater @innovatorbunny @ohlorde @imjustheretotrytohelp @awetistic-things @theinconvenientlifestyle @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @sea-shame @faacethefacts @craigthetourguide @blomstermjuk @mythiedew @operationladybug @fifthnormani @disinfobot @beserkerjewel @hellootoodlesxoxo

[bonefall]

ShadowClan has three random kittens that are literally just an invention of Su Susann that the family tree canonized. Quietkit, Rubblekit, and Turetlekit as the children of Ashheart and Cinderfur. I know you already included them to your old family tree as dead kits, but I've always liked their names too much to just let them be family tree randos. They offer some nice presence for tpb/to as they're probably around the Frostfour's age

These ones won't even be Glitch Warriors, I consider them "Kit Saves" in the sense that they do appear in the book but died young! Though they did get names from Su Susann, they are textually referenced in the opening of TPB: Rising Storm.

An owl swoops and attacks Nightstar's den, and we get this;

The "silver queen" here is said to be Ashheart. There's no one else it could be, anyway-- ShadowClan only has one silver molly during TPB, unless Yellowfang's mentor Deerleap is out here refusing to die, or one of the silver toms is doing a Rowanclaw. The father is said to be Cinderfur, but it could really be anyone.

(there's also this bizarre thing where there's like, 2 or 3 unnamed silver tabby warriors who keep appearing in background scenes. Are Wolfstep, Flintfang, and Boulder just painting stripes on themselves sometimes? Is Archeye forgetting he's an elder?)

So, their lives were short, but these three kits were absolutely canon. Since future material would definitely pull their names from the website, I'm comfortable saying Quiet, Turtle, and Rubble are as good as real.

I also happen to quite like their names, ngl, I've got a few fun little plans for them in BB;

Their warrior names are Rubbleflower, Turtlebelly, and Quietnose.

Blackstar's "naming tendency" is that he likes to give somewhat rude names. It's a very ShadowClan sort of thing to do.

Rubbleflower means "Flower struggling to grow out of a mess," Turtlebelly means "Always hungry," and Quietnose means "don't sneeze."

In terms of BB familial changes, I want to make Cinderfur NOT be Stumpytail's brother, and instead make him Ashheart's littermate.

My thought is that they were born to Cinderfur under Queen's Rights, but when he died in Runningnose's Plague, Ashheart adopted them and Stumptail stepped in to help.

(Stumptail was also targeted by Runningnose's plan, as one of Deerfoot's Rebels. He got sick but survived, eventually helping HalfClan cats escape TigerClan.)

I haven't entirely figured out Rubble's and Quiet's personalities yet, but Turtlebelly is going to become the Head of Kitchen Patrol shortly into Po3.

She's getting a secondary apprenticeship under Hammerclaw (im making her real), or Hammer's kid Wishbone, depending on how the timeline shakes out.

I'm not sure how long her tenure is going to last, though. She's going to get through Blackstar's lapse in faith, the Battle of the Truth Eclipse, and possibly Yellowcough, but Darktail and The Kin might do her in. They'll be doing a general purge of high-ranking ShadowClan cats, such as the old Educator, Smokefall.

But she CAN cook, so they might end up keeping her around.

In any case, Turtlebelly is going to be replaced as Kitchen Head by BB!ASC. Either violently, or by retiring.

Rubble and Quiet will probably be the ones to have kittens, in her family. She doesn't dislike kids or anything, she's just not enthusiastic about them. Prefers to be the cool aunt.

Speaking of-- Rubbleflower is the only boy. Quiet and Turtle are mollies.

Open to input on Quiet and Rubble in particular. I like how Rubblekit's wiki sprite is weirdly green, I'm trying to find some kind of fun way to work that into his personality somehow. Maybe he's one of the big brains behind Blackstar's Bog Project.

Look at this green ass cat

[antizenin]

𑁤 ROUGH AROUND THE EDGES ⋮ BAKUGO KATSUKI

you've made your way up the rankings and retired pro-hero, dynamite aka bakugo katsuki, couldn't be more proud.

( fic demographics. ) boku no hero academia, bakugo katsuki, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 7.3k words !

➛ retired pro-hero!bakugo katsuki, sidekick turned pro-hero!reader (she/they), age gap (bakugo in his early to mid fifties/reader in their early thirties), alcoholic consumption, standing sixty-nine, playful banter, some bratty behavior, rough sex, unprotected sex (creampie), multiple orgasm, mating press, cum swallowing, slight slapping, dirty talk, etc.

Bakugo doesn’t quite remember when he started feeling so old. When did his hearing become so sensitive? Was it from the multiple times he had was an inch away from his own end— a ringing in his ear that was damn-near deafening? Or is it simply because he’s halfway to his sixties? When had his appetite become so bland? How come he can’t drink as much as he wants now that he’s retired from being a pro-hero? 

He thought the moment he finally received an actual break, things would get better, but he’s wishing to go back. Is there a type of quirk that’ll de-age him? It doesn’t have to last forever, just long enough where he can bask and reminisce in the feeling of being young and in his prime. Now he’s in his mid-fifties and he can’t move as freely as he wants to anymore. He was once a high-ranking hero working his ass off to be at the top and giving himself little time to enjoy it. Not that he could, danger was always a millisecond away. He got everything he ever wanted. He should be proud of it, and he is. He truly is, but God damn, sometimes does he have regrets. 

He’s still nursing this glass of whiskey that the bartender served him for ten minutes, sitting at the bar of a pristine place only open to pro-heros and sidekicks, active or retired. It’s a Thursday evening, a quiet night unlike its usual business. Bakugo’s always here on a Thursday, so much so that the moment he walks in, the bartender Akiri already has his drink waiting for him. Always cold and fresh, like it was served right in front of him. She has a weird quirk— everlasting ice— but it proves to be great in her line of business. 

The television is on and despite the music playing, he can hear the current news report. 

“This just in on Pro-Hero ranking, Spiderweb continues to climb the charts, their venomous webs seemingly seeping a new poison that makes every fall in love with her. Rumor has it that she’ll be the number one hero within the next month—”

Bakugo doesn’t hear your arrival, not hearing the jingle of the overhead bells the moment you walk in. He doesn’t even hear the moment you slide out the chair, its legs scraping against the tiled ground. You frown as his focus remains on the television, watching you when the real deal is right there. He really is getting rusty.

“You're losing your touch, Dynamite,” you slide on the stool, grabbing his drink right out of his hand the moment he falls out of his trance. “A villain could've walked right in and you would've been—” you snap your fingers. “—done for.”

He ignores your comment because he knows you're right. Can't argue that he still had the skills. He had some, but some wouldn't be enough. Instead he takes you, drinking you with his eyes. You're still in your hero suit that closely resembles everyday clothing to the regular eye, but Bakugo knows how you designed your hero fit, he helps you improve it after all. 

An ashy purple top that sucked you in, holding you in place. It had a dark gem-like pattern on it that people could mistake for rhinestones, but you were intricate with the design, using the same fluid you use to take down villains to help create the spider web pattern that runs down the top. Around your wrists, are smaller and more stylistic versions of his gauntlets, resembling bangles to help you store sweat. Similar to his quirk, you form the webs through your build up of yours with further additions. He remembered you explaining just exactly how your quirk works, but started to check out once it became too biological. 

Your black pants were baggy, helping with your own comfort as you had a fanny pack around your waist, holding them up. The boots you wore were another storage for your sweat, your clothes being a tool to absorb your bodily fluids, where you were able to experiment with yourself and further prove your usefulness. It definitely contrasted with your old sidekick uniform— a skimpy piece that you paid someone to have designed for you and you didn't have the heart to tell that you didn't like it. Considering that you're climbing the rankings now, he figures you've finally grown that backbone you used to lack when he first got you. 

“Well, if it isn't Spiderweb,” he turns in his seat to face you. It's apparent that he still works out, arms still bulging out, though he's gaining some chub in some places. But that scar on his face and his facial expression doesn't have you fooled, he's still rough around the edges. “I still prefer Deadly Spider, by the way.”

You roll your eyes with the tilt of your head as you scoff out sarcastically, “Of course, you do, Explosion Murder God— whatever it is.”

“Haha,” he feigns laughter, subconsciously scooting closer to you. “What're you doing here? Shouldn't you still be on patrol?”

“I'm not rumored to become number one for nothing,” you wink. I finished up early. Bakugo snorts. Finishing up early doesn't exist, and you know that. Hearing his snort, you stop the joking and become a little more serious. You technically weren't lying when you said you finished up early. “I was on a case for a while. I should still be out there, but I managed to crack shit down and I decided I needed to reward myself after a long day.”

He nods, bringing his glass to his lips finally. “You've gotten good,” he gestures to the screen.

“I had a good mentor,” you smile. He chuckles at that, “Damn right, ya did.”

You can't help but giggle as you slump in the chair. You can see him looking at you from the corner of his eyes, those vermillion eyes that used to always be set in a scowl now seem to be brighter. He lets out a breath as he downs the whiskey in one go. “‘m proud of ya, (Y/N). You're not disappointing me after all.”

“Have I ever?” You expect the answer to be yes. That there must've been times where you've disappointed him, especially in your early days of being a sidekick. A few UA graduates that had your tail between your legs and didn't know how you survived the lot of it. You made stupid mistakes and were chastised for it. Surely those were the moments where he was obviously disappointed in you, right? 

There's a long pause before he's shaking his head, beckoning the bartender over and asking for two more glasses. The bartender is quick, placing one in front of you and Bakugo. You're not a drinker, but you take a few sips from it. “Nah. Always knew I passed the torch to the right person.”

You snort, calling his blasphemy. “You're lying to me to make me feel good. What about that time I dropped that serum?”

“It was your first big case with me as a fresh graduate,” he remembered that day vividly. It was a month in of you being his sidekick. You were used to being by his side during patrols and smaller cases. He didn't expect to have you thrown in something like that so soon. He wanted to leave you behind, but others thought otherwise and in a rare moment, he didn't follow his intuition. “You were bound to fuck up after being thrown in with the wolves.”

Your eyes widen at his nonchalance, but they become serious in an effort to prove him wrong. Why would you want to? Bakugo can't understand as you start relaying moments where you messed up, whether it was a small accident or a huge fuckup. Stubborn as an ass, Bakugo still upholds his position. “Quit it, won'tcha? If I thought y’er a disappointment, you'd’ve been fired a long time ago.”

“Well,” you start to tear up. “That's refreshing to hear after all.”

“Now, don't make me change my mind!” He knows you all too well, seeing how the corner of your eyes start to water. “Here I thought ya finally grew a backbone, but y’still cry like a baby.”

“What?” You exclaim, not denying his claims. “I've never cried in front of you. How'd you even know?”

“Y’always were on the verge of tears, honey,” he smirks. “It wasn't hard to miss.”

The way honey fell from his lips with ease. His raspy voice sent something straight through you that it was hard to keep your composure. You're starting to remember your younger years where you'd ogle him, all while trying to not cry from him yelling at you. Despite how rough he seemed back then, you had developed a crush that you thought you grew out of. But, here you are, falling back into old ways. 

If Bakugo notices a shift, he doesn't mention it. Instead, swiveling back around to stare at God knows what. You clear your throat, taking a huge gulp of the whiskey. Your throat burns as you quickly question why Bakugo seems to like it so much. “I'm getting better though. At hiding my tears, and I do have a backbone, by the way. Just took me a while to find it, but it's all intact.”

“Good to know,” Bakugo says, dismissively, the atmosphere changing. You try to say something else, but you can't find anything to talk about anymore, despite your mind running with lots of stuff. You remembered a month into Bakugo's retirement that he started coming to Sakura's Blossom— the bar you're in now. A popular place for heroes to relax, somewhere Bakugo used to always avoid as a hero, becoming a favorite for him. When he pushed you to become a hero, your early days were close in its vicinity. You'd always see him walk in, but he's never seen you. It became a regular for him to come in on Thursdays, making it easy for you to find him.

You've always wanted to run after him, tell him how much you're grateful for his endorsement and that you'll make him proud. Because in the midst of it all, you had forgotten to and it was slowly eating at you. You had been raised to always give gratitude and you couldn't even thank the man that put you where you are today. But now, your throat is dry and you still can't. 

You can. You. Can. You can—

Bakugo pushes out against the chair, standing up as he pays for the bill— for both yours and his drinks. He nods towards the bartender before looking down at a speechless you. “Good night, Spiderweb.”

You should've said it then, but you don't. “Good night, Dynamite.”

—

You managed to change your schedule, so that you have Thursday nights free, managing to find another hero willing to switch with you. You start making regular appearances when Bakugo's there, and when he asks, you always lie. Though, you know that he knows you're lying. However, he never says your word. Simply just enjoying your company. 

You missed him, missed having him around. And he realizes that he's missed you. When he first became a pro-hero and as he grew comfortable in this dangerous career, he flew solo. Did everything on his own and didn't want a shadow that wasn't his own following him around. However, as he grew in age and realized that a second hand wouldn't hurt, he hired you to help make things easier for him. 

At first, you were a mere pain in the ass. Like you had said, you had messed up countless times and God, was he close to firing you at plenty of points in time. But, something was hindering him from doing so. He just couldn't do it. So, he kept you and trained you to be who you needed to be— helped shape yourself into someone he was proud of, as well as yourself. Sometimes when you'd seek his advice, your voice would get soft and he’d be reminded of that young woman you once were, but you've grown so much. You still might not believe him, but damn is he proud of you.

“Breaking News! Spiderweb has found themself in a web of her own. An elaborate plan on her part turned against her as a villain gives her a taste of her own medicine. Luckily, other pro-heros within her vicinity were able to help rescue them, but she was gravely injured and was brought to the hospital. Reporters have yet to hear about their condition—

Bakugo doesn't think twice before he's springing from his seat, dropping some cash and heading in your direction. He should've known from the moment that you were ten minutes late than when you usually drop in to chat that something was up. “Fuck,” he curses, climbing into his vehicle and speeding in your direction. If he's got it right, he knows exactly where you've been taken. 

You've been in and out of consciousness the moment an IV has been shoved in your veins from the joint of your arms and biceps. You were in an immense amount of pain, nearly every part of your body aching. When you squint your eyes open, you're greeted with white and you know you're in the hospital. It should be a relief, you're alive, but you feel the tears building up. You've failed. And you have before, but this time it's different. 

In the midst of finding your groove and truly feeling like yourself, you've been forced flat on your back and lost the upper hand, having to depend on others to rescue you instead of doing the rescuing. You were careless, wreckless, a disappoint—

“Where is she?” You recognize that voice. That gruff and raspy voice. It doesn't help soothe the pain, only making it worse as you begin to sob. The machine you're hooked up to starts beeping erratically. 

“Sir, we need you to calm down. She's just starting to become stable. She's in good hands—”

“Then why won't you let me see her?” Bakugo slams his fist into the desk. “She's not in surgery, is she?”

“No, but…” It goes silent from there, hearing a slew of voices and footsteps rushing towards you before Bakugo follows. “That's her! Let me see—”

“Sir, if you do not calm down, we won't have a choice in having you removed!”

You don't remember much from that point on, knowing that Bakugo didn't go down without a fight and probably finding some sort of loophole into seeing you again. When you open your eyes once more, you're more stable and not in and out of sleep. You're still in pain, but feeling slightly better. 

“Yer up,” a deep voice booms, filled with exhaustion as a huge yawn leaves Bakugo's mouth. “‘Bout damn time.”

You should be happy that he stayed to make sure you're in a stable condition and that he cares for you, but you aren't. Only reminded of your mistake. “You—you should go.”

You end up croaking and stammering on your words, but he makes out what you say and scoffs. “What the hell are ya talkin’ ‘bout? Didn't come rushin’ here and fight off a guard just to be told to leave.” 

“Dynamite—”

“Bakugo—”

“Dynamite,” you pause, expecting him to rebuttal, but he doesn't. “Please, I don't have the strength. And, I don't want you seeing me like this.”

“Seeing you like how?”

“Vulnerable.”

He snorts, crossing his arms as he stands over you by the bed. His big arms bulge as he doesn't take you seriously for a second. “Don't give me that shit. I'm stayin’.”

You don't even know why you tried arguing with a stubborn ass like him. You should've known it was pointless. He always seems to get his way, so instead. You do what you do best. Cry. 

And it's worse than he can ever imagine. You're in full-blown tears, sobbing heavily that your eyes will be bloodshot red by the end of it. He doesn't know what to do or what to say to get you to stop, leaving him speechless as he can do nothing but stand there. Why don't you want him there so bad?

“I… I failed you,” you finally sob out, clenching your fists as they crack. Your nails dig into your skin as you force your body to turn away from him.

“What are you talking about?” Bakugo asks, incredulous. “Failed me, how?”

“I got too ahead of myself,” you further explain. “Thought I could take that villain on my own, only to get a taste of my own medicine.”

Is this what this is about? Why you were in such a haste to kick him out of your hospital room? 

His uncontrollable laughter catches you off guard, having you spinning your head to look at him so hard that it hurts. “W-why are you laughing? It's not funny!” 

“Oh, honey.” There he goes, calling you honey in your horrible predicament. “But it is!”

His laughter dies down not too shortly after, a hand instinctively reaching to caress you, pushing away your braids that nurses lazily put in a ponytail. “It was bound to happen. You climb up the ranks, get a little cocky and then God strikes ya down. Happens to us all.”

“You make my near-death experience sound like it's normal,” you mumble.

“It is,” he points out. “For people like us. It's what we signed up for— it's what you signed up. Be grateful you're alive. From what I'm hearing, you'll make a great recovery. If Recovery Girl was working here, you'd have been out of here quicker than this.”

“I thought you were going to chastise me,” you admit. “It's what I wanted— what I needed.”

“If ya wanted it so much, you wouldn't’ve tried kicking me out.”

“Mmm, maybe you're right,” you give up. “You should still, though.”

His eyes grow dark in a teasing fashion, looking down at you. “And give ya what you want so easily? Not a fat chance.”

—

As Bakugo had said you would, you make a speedy recovery, getting back on your toes in no time. You take his advice, taking it easy and to not make the mistakes he made earlier on in going solo. Your ranking has dropped a few, having to live with the next month or so with people ridiculing and noting how you got full of yourself. They were right, you did, and you'll learn to be better— to accept help and ask for it. Being a pro-hero isn't a one-man gig, after all. 

You still have your Thursday nights free to spend them with Bakugo. Your accident seems to bring the two of you incredibly closer, and to the few onlooking pros that saunter inside, it's too close. You scrunch up your nose in laughter. You slap at his chest in your fit of giggles as his arms instinctively wrap around your waist and pull you closer, your head falling to his chest. You're laughing so hard that it's hard to breathe and you're nearly choking. “Woah there, honey. ‘M not that funny.”

You stop laughing, expression turning serious in a millisecond that it's nearly concerning until your voice is barely above a whisper, “Stop calling me honey. I don't think you're aware of what it does to me.”

For a moment, Bakugo’s eyes widen at your openness before they share the same darkness that yours have been growing. “I wasn't, but now that I am, I think I'll just abuse that little info.”

— 

Maybe Bakugo’s alright with this period in his life after all. Being able to say that he's an experienced man, where despite his long days of pro-hero work, he's managed to keep his dick wet through it all. It means he knows how to please someone of your caliber. 

He's a big man, despite the pudge that's grown on him. He can't workout as much as he used to, but picking you up? You're light as a feather. 

The moment he got you through his front door, he couldn't wait any longer. He needed you in a way he's never felt with any other woman. The taste of your lips don't compare to the plenty of one night stands he's had. He's got you in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist as he pushes you against the door. The tent in his pants continues to form, rubbing against you as slick sticks to the crotch of your panties. 

“Fuck,” he curses deliriously, pulling away from the kiss with a hiss. His eyes are low and hazy, filled with wanton lust. “Bet ya taste so good. Been wanting to try ya for a while.”

“Oh really?” You giggle, eyes sparkling in interest. You buck your hips into him, feeling his cock against your core. He's pulling at the hem of your shirt, helping you out of this damned hero costume. “Since when?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs with a pant. With the top of your suit gone, you do him the favor of kicking off your pants. Leaving you nearly bare and for him ogle. His eyes are glued to your chest, getting rid of your bra next to play with your dark and pert nipples. Your breasts are perky, ready to be sucked on. He takes a nipple in his mouth before remembering what else he wanted to say. “Since ya started stalking me at the bar.”

“Wait,” despite the sexual situation you find yourself in, your eyes widen at the sheer fear that he knew that you had watched him. That he had known the small fact that you had memorized his scheduled visits to Sakura's Blossom. You push against his chest, pulling him away from your breasts. “You knew that I knew all this time?” 

“Feel like we're no longer on the same page here,” he furrowed his eyebrows to clarify, fingers trailing to pinch at your nipples. “But since ya started yer regular visits.”

“Oh,” your breath of relief turns into a whine when he twists rather harshly. 

“Y’were watching me from before?” His gaze becomes stern in a teasing manner, moreso like he's bemused by the fact. 

“Used to patrol right next to Sakura's,” you shamelessly admit, gnawing on your bottom lip as you start to grind against his cock. It has him remembering why you're here, what he wants to do to you. “A hot spot for pro-heros— a villain's bound to hit some day.”

“Oh, shut up already,” he finally huffs out. 

“You're the one asking the—” You squeal as Bakugo flips you upside down, feeling his nose press into your mound. He takes a deep inhale that you can feel. His hold on you gets tight, a visceral grip that will have your sides aching by the morning. “Oh, gosh! Dynamite!”

Your damn dedication to calling him his hero name pisses him off, especially in a position like this. “Don't call me Dynamite when I'm tryna eat yer pussy.” The slap to your ass echos the room, you swallowing a breath of air in your shock. “It's Bakugo or Katsuki from this point on, got it?”

He slaps your ass again at your silence. “Ya got it?”

“Fuck,” you finally mewl out. “Yes, Bakugo.”

His cock twitches, loving the way you say his last name. He smirks. “I'll make sure that I have it engraved in your head when I'm done with you.”

“Didn't you tell me to shut up alr— oh…” 

You feel his tongue against your covered mound, pressing into the fabric before the sound of sucking. He can taste you through it. He can taste your juices through the cotton of your panties with no shame at all. His eyes flutter shut as he feels your hands reach for his hips and dig your nails into him. They go through his shirt and into his skin as you can't help but roll your pelvis into him. 

You can feel the blood rush to your head, but fuck are you enjoying this. His desperation to taste you at his front door, not bothering to get you down on a bed. More juices pool from you as you gain more stability in this position, bucking your hips up to his mouth as you feel his teeth graze your skin, catching the hem of your panties and tugging it to the side. The cold conditioned air that breathes down on your core is brutal and in the darkness, Bakugo can see your pussy shine in its wetness. “Shit, I’ve gotcha all to myself, don't I? You're just mine for the taking.”

Your hands traverse to his bottoms, unzipping it as you nod. “‘m all yours, Bakugo.”

You pull down his pants as best as you can, palming his cock through his underwear and hearing a slew of curse words fall from his lips. “Yer gonna be the death of me.”

Finally do you reach in his pants, pulling out his cock. He's been losing a lot of things due to age lately, and he's grateful that an erection isn't on the list yet. Hard and prominent and all for you, he can only see so much, trying to get a good look at your face from the position, but it's hopeless, he can only feel how good you are. With one hand, he uses it to wrap around your waist tightly before using the other to rub two fingers between your folds, hissing when he feels your tongue against his tip. He spreads your slick down your pussy, making your lips all messy of yourself while he tries to remain steady as you take him in.

You can't help but moan, feeling yourself pulsate at the idea of sucking Bakugo off. How the sheer thought of it makes your pussy pool with heat. Legs wrapped around his head, you yearn for more than just his fingers as they dance around your entrance, his middle and index digits a mess. Your heart races as your tongue swirls around his tip, tasting his precum against your lips. You salivate, letting your spit lubricate his cock as you use a hand to hold it up. You shuffle to get your tongue at the base, the tip of it touching the juncture of where his cock and balls meet. You feel a vein just right there and it seems to be a sensitive spot for dear old Bakugo, causing him to shudder the moment you touch it. 

“Keep doing that n’ I'm gonna cum like a little boy,” he warns you. And you were going to keep at it and play the part of a dirty little vixen until you feel his wet muscle at the center of your nectarine. Lips around your clit, Bakugo groans around it, tasting you from the fruit itself. It surely keeps you occupied as you momentarily lose focus. You grip around his base, squeezing it and causing his fingers to dig deep into you. Whimpering at the pain, it jolts you out of your haze as you bring his cock to your lips. It's a ravenous torture between the two of you, trying to bask in your pleasure while trying to grant the other some as well. 

Still, you mewl and moan around his length, eyes sparkling in delight as you swallow his shaft. Cheeks hollowing as his pink, cut top rests on your tastebuds. Pre continues to leak from him, a translucent mess that slides down with ease. He feels so good inside your mouth, and you can feel his legs flexing and contracting at what you're administrating. A true, dirty vixen you are.

But, Bakugo's no better to you. Lapping at your pussy like a starved man, both of you are so eager to give to each other. He tastes the intricacies of your pussy, mapping it out with his tongue as his grip around your waist tightens and his free hand is back to join the party. A thumb pressing down on your clit, building up pressure and has your legs tightening around his head. Around his length, your moans become more high-pitched at the overstimulation, feeling your legs tense then untense. 

Your face is a mess, saliva dripping down to your forehead due to this upside down state. Your head beginning to hurt but you don't have the heart to tell Bakugo to stop because you don't want to. It's bound for him to change positions soon, but gosh, you want to delve in this a little longer. You continue to bob your head, the wet sounds mixing with your slurps further sounding the room. You become daring, letting go of your other hand around him and putting all of your faith into Bakugo. Your upper body dangling upside down as your other free hand travels to cup his balls, shortly remembering that spot he oh-so warned you about. 

You fondle them, greeted back to that jerk of his leg as his waist’s now pressed to the door. He momentarily pulls off of you to curse, “Shit.”

However, he never corrected you or tried to get you to stop, simply speeding up his attack on your clit to receive a close response as well. It works, but you remain focus as your mouth is off him for a second as you stroke his length, finally taking in just how big he is and how you truly weren't able to fit all of him in. All this time, working with an aged cock that could destroy you. It has you whimpering out to yourself at the anticipation of your pussy being stretched out by him. His cock glistens even with such a lack of light, your spit being the work of that. Your strokes are quick and languid, mirroring his reign on your clit, causing your hips to jerk and twitch every so often. 

Your actions falter every once in a while, but you're so determined. You're always so determined, that's what Bakugo adores about you. Even as a sidekick that often fucked up, you had your own way of showing it. You were just like him in a way, stubborn as a mule to get what you want. You just needed to learn how not to give in to people when they bite harder. And here he is, gently nibbling down on your folds, but you refuse to back down, determined to make him come undone. 

You fondle his balls, adjusting his cock up, going to that dangerous place that he warned about. A chaste kiss before your lips are fully around it and you're suckling on one of his sacs. In this position, you can truly get a good whiff of him. There's a musk, but don't be mistaken, he's sure to clean himself. It's not overpowering as you can still smell the minty hint of whatever brand of bar soap he's using. The combination has your senses going to overdrive as your legs tighten immensely around him for a moment. 

That typical clench of your stomach goes ignored as you're determined to make Bakugo release. You're unforgiving and relentless, stroking his cock as mouth tries to fit his second sac of balls in. Your moan has become a melody to his ears as his head hits the door and he tries to remain focused on your pussy. She's so damn close, he grunts to himself. Don't give into her just yet. However, it's easier said than done when he feels his cock twitching in your hold and he moans. Sending vibrations straight to your core, your achievement and his response is enough for that band in your stomach to finally snap as he lets go. 

You both gift each other your essence. You, you're the forbidden nectar in the garden of Eden, your juices so natural that it tastes sweet. There's a tang to it that has him quickly intoxicated as he finds himself addicted. Him, he's like a refreshing taste of cold water on a hot summer day. You're feeling nothing but delight when his white cum shoots down your throat and you have no choice but to swallow everything— you wouldn't dare spit anything out. 

You both need a breather to come back to the present. You're still stuck in this now painful position as your head comes to throb and you have to croak out Bakugo's name to remind him. Slowly but surely does he get you back on the right side up before finally taking a step away from the door. His legs work like muscle memory as his lips plant on yours, swallowing away the pain as he makes a beeline for his bedroom. Pushing open the door and not bothering to have it shut, he hurries to put you down on the bed. He still has you in his arms when he does, grinding his still hardened length against your pussy. All traces of your release disappeared on his tongue, but you can still taste the remnants of yourself, as you both can taste each other. 

Now that you're on a bed, you feel yourself slowly checking out as the pain is slowly alleviated by your comfort. Bakugo mutters some stuff that you couldn't care less about, only mewling and nodding in agreement until you feel his hand grab your face, squeezing your cheeks. It's hard to focus on him, to stare right back into his eyes. 

“Awww,” he coos. “Is it all too much for my baby?” He noticed your disorientation immediately, planting a chaste kiss on your lips as his eyebrows knit with concern. “She doesn't want to stop, does she?”

Immediately comprehending that, you shake your head. “Mmm, no,” you squeak out. However, Bakugo's lips drop to your ears, whispering out, “are ya sure? We can always—”

“Yes— yes, I'm sure,” you persist. “I need you, Bakugo. Would you not help a woman in need?”

He doesn't like the way you stammered out that yes, still peering down at you. However, your eyes have significantly steadied now and that same brand of determination is back on your face to finally convince him. He finally caves with a barely audible ‘okay.’ He dives down to meet you for another kiss, hands roaming to grip your legs. So focused on the kiss, you're taken aback when he hikes on leg up, your knee touching your shoulder. His cock is perfectly slotted in between your folds before he does the same with your other leg. 

“Bakugo,” you groan at this change of position. He claims that you'll be the death of him, but you beg to differ. Your soiled panties are still on you, which Bakugo is sure to get rid of in a hurried haste, pulling so hard at it that it rips. You gasp, calling out his name once more, but he dismisses your complaint. “You'll be fine.”

You feel so exposed with your body pressed like this, in the dark with Bakugo looming over you. His cock slides in between your folds, wet sounds running through the air. You don't know what he's waiting for, so you do the work for him, wanting him to ravish you just as much as he does. That familiar grip returns to his cock and before you can press his head to your entrance, he slaps your hand away. You whine in protest, but he pushes you. “Have some patience, honey. Good things take time.”

The return of that damn nickname he's given you. Once used sarcastically, now one that he's going to use to his advantage because of you— all because you couldn’t keep in your attraction for him anymore. You should be grateful for it. It's landed up in this position, but now he always has the upperhand over you, knowing just how to make you cave. 

You clench around nothing, feeling his shaft go in a back and forth rhythm as it barely presses down on your clit how you want it to. You whine nonetheless, hoping that Bakugo will pity your desperation and give in. “Bakugo, please… I need you in me. Need to know how you feel.”

One hand comes to grab your face roughly, squeezing your cheeks to make your lips pucker up. “Oh, is that right? You need to know how I feel inside you? Or what, hm?” He challenges. “Ya gonna die without knowing.”

You nod, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “I just might.”

He can't help but chuckle at that. “Yer cryin’, again? Yer tears don't work on me anymore, honey. They just egg me on. Love to see ‘em now. Know that I've got ya all desperate for me.”

“Don't care,” you mewl. “I want you inside me.”

He keeps up at it, gliding his cock between your folds and letting his shaft collect your juices. You're so fucking wet for him that all he wants to do is bury himself deep inside you and finish, but he practices what he preaches and holds himself back. “Is this how you are with all the men you sleep with? Such a whiny baby. Rumored to be the next number one hero, a crybaby for cock?”

He taunts and teases you, pushing out his bottom lip as he tuts. “It's almost cute.”

From all your whining and desperate begging, you don't realize that Bakugo’s now slotted the tip of his cock at your entrance. It's not until his head is inside and he's deep inside you that you fully register his intrusion, a loud sob coming from your lips as he stretches you out. But just as quick as you were shocked, moans slip easily from your mouth as you drag out just how you're feeling. 

Watching you—watching how your eyes are blazed with a fire that's filled with wanton lust. He's never seen it with everyone else and he quickly realized that you've gotten him under your spell and he's so deep in it that he doesn't want to retract. It's as though you're a succubus, a demon that feeds off of lust, with the way the corner of your lips turn upwards in a smile. Your hands come to wrap around his neck and Bakugo puts all his weight on you, causing him to go deeper in you. 

You feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix, pain mixing in with pleasure. Your back’s barely able to arch against the bed under Bakugo’s heavy weight, but your nails digging into the nape of his neck is enough to communicate just how you feel. As do your words.

“Ba— Katsuki, you feel so good,” that sudden shift from his last to his first name nearly has him cumming inside you too early. The creaking of the bed halts for a moment as his crimson red eyes look deep into yours. With his stillness, it makes you focus on the length that's against your walls, stretching you out. “Yeah, I think I prefer you calling me Katsuki better. Be a good girl and keep at it, will ya?”

It sounds like a request, but in this position, you know it’s a command. You don’t have a chance to respond, not that you were going to. He’s thrusting into you once more, but this pace is more brutal than before as he sits up and drills into your pussy without any remorse. He pushes down on your legs, making them ache as they press against your breast, making them more accentuated. Your moans become more high-pitched as you cry out his name— his first name. 

“That’s it,” he grins, maniacally. “Call my name out like the dirty little slut you are. Let my neighbors know who’s making you feel this good.”

One of your hands drag to cling to his bicep, making marks in a matter of seconds as your juices spill out of you. You’ve never had anyone else make you feel the way that Bakugo does. How he easily takes control and dominates you. With him, he lets you know that while you run the streets of Tokyo, Japan, you’ll always be underneath him. The stinging pain that runs through your lower body is delicious and while you know you’ll bear the consequences in the morning, you bask in the pleasure it secretes now. 

In this moment, you become delirious as your imagination becomes active as you can see a future with Bakugo, but is that what he wants? Hands back on his neck, you tug him down to you. “Katsuki… need you.”

“You’ve already got me, honey,” Bakugo kisses the corner of your lips, pace slowing by a pinch. “What more do you need?”

“Kiss me,” you whisper, eyes becoming glossy with wanton need. Something snaps within the both of you, a sudden shift that changes the trajectory of your relationship with him forever. Time stops for a moment before his lips are on you— lust turning into something more, something fatal. No longer is he pistoning inside you to oblivion, but holding you with more care. Precise thrusts that still get the work done to having you call out his name without a care in the world. 

He’s hitting that special spot inside of you, memorizing the sounds you make just for him. That familiar coil comes back and you bring Bakugo closer to you. “G’nna cum. Please make me cum, Katsuki.”

“Anything for you, honey.” He helps you ride out your orgasm, slowing down as he brings your legs to finally lay on the bed. Not too long after does he empty himself inside you, painting your insides white before pulling out completely. He makes eye contact with you. This. This is the perfect time, your mind tells you. 

Getting your breath steady, you peer up at him. “I never did thank you, y’know.”

“For what?” he grunts, sitting up on the bed, completely towering over you as you stay in place. Climbing over you, he’s reaching for something. Shortly after, he tosses you a water bottle that you catch with ease. 

“Just…” you sigh. “For everything.” 

—

FIVE MONTHS LATER 

Spiderweb has had such a spectacular come up. From working under retired pro-hero, Dynamite, as a sidekick to being endorsed into a hero. She’s climbed the roster faster than anyone else has and while she had her stumbling moments, she came back to kick butt and prove to Japan that she is the hero they need!

We’ve managed to get a video with the pro-hero themself about the announcement of her current hero ranking—” Shortly, they pull up separate footage of a next reporter before it shows you.

“Spiderweb, please tell us how it feels to currently be the number one hero of Japan!”

The camera pans to you, your eyes lighting up in delight. You’re panting heavily standing outside in the hot sun, evidently just finishing a case. You have to catch your breath before your attention is fully turned to the camera. “It feels… It feels unbelievable, y’know? I mean, I’ve heard the rumors about it, but for it to actually come true? It’s only been a couple years into becoming a pro-hero and it feels like it’s something I don’t deserve, but I know for sure that I’ve worked my ass off— sorry for the language, kids!

“I’m just really grateful,” you continue your rambling. “I’m really grateful for everyone who believed in me and put their faith in me, especially my old mentor, the man that endorsed me himself. Dynamite, if you’re watching this! I know I’ve already told you this already, but thank you! I couldn’t have gotten here without you. I love— I mean, I’m forever in your favor.”

It’s a Thursday night and he’s not at the bar this time. Instead, he’s at his place, getting ready to head to yours. He’s lucky he kept the television on to hear you say that. He’ll certainly tease you later for it, but now, a sense of pride washes over him.  “That’s my girl.”

[mintaikk]

Why Morpherine should be canon

Remember: all of these are just MY opinion. In all honesty, I just want Morph's feelings for Lpgan to addressed instead of just burying it immediately. That's all I'm asking, I'm not even asking them to get into a relationship. Morph's VA even agrees that Morpherine doesn't even need to be canon, and that their friendship should be explored more. But, these are just my reasonings on why it would be good for morpherine to be canon.

It would put an end to the not love triangle between Jean, Scott, and Logan

Love triangle has been going on for a while now, and I think we're all sick of it. I like that it let's us see a softer side of Logan, but Jean isn'tinterested! She's been with Scott since high school, and there's no way in Hell that she is going to leave him.

What sucks to me is that the fact that nothing has really been where he develops abd is able to get over his crush. I get it. Feelings are hard, and they don't go away. But, nothing is going to be done with this except useless pining and have Jean kiss him for some fucking reason. I literally just want Logan to get over Jean. That's it. He gets over Jean, and find someone thar actually likes him in that way.

And that's Morph bcuz the entire post is about :).

It already has good buildup

Half of this section was just stolen from a post made by @waywardsou2 bcuz I haven't watched the original series in a while and they put it perfectly lol.

Morph and Logan were best friends, with Logan famously saying that, "He [Morph] is the only one that could ever make me laugh." But (in literally the first episode lol), Morph dies protecting Logan from a sentinel. And Logan was fucking PISSED. He didn't like Scott before, but I think Morph dying contributed to his dislike for him even more, since he believes that Scott's decision is the reason that his best friend was killed. He then goes to grieve and then later avenge Morph ("This one's for you, Morph!" Slayed so hard with that line tbh). Later, when they find out that Morph is alive, but under Sinister's control, Logan is the first one to offer and go out to rescue them, even though they all think that Morph betrayed them. He says that "He's the only one that could ever make me laugh", quote and also mentions that he's "not giving up on him again." When Logan goes to talk to Morph, the purple around Moeph'a eyes dissappear, and only return when Logan isn't around, so they're already shown to be pretty close.

Another thing is that when Morph and Logan are fighting, Morph turns into Sabretooth and Jean to get under Logan's skin. It's already and open secret among the X-men thst Logan has feelings for Jean, but he hadn't told anyone about Sabretooth. Morph turning into Sabretooh implies that Logan gold Morph about him. I find it sweet that Logan trusted Morph enough to tell them about Sabretooth.

Morph wanted to get revenge on the rest of the team, but with Logan, they just explained what they were going through. And Logan understands them because he wants them to feel better.

And then, in X-men 97, they're just attached by the hip and are literally always seen together. Morph cheers Logan up when he's upset, Morph is always the first one to save him, etc. They're even like this in the comic, being the first one to notice that Wolvie is upset during Scott and Jean's baby shower.

Oh yeah, the thing that made me go "HOLD UP" and got me into this ship: Morph's (confirmed) love confession to Wolverine.

And that fuckass shower scene.

We could just leave it at that, but I'm a fanfic reader and writer, meaning that I latch onto ANY angst I can find. So, here's the stuff this scene implies.

-The illusion of Logan was made by Mr. Sinister when he was bringing out the worst fears of the X-men. And Morph’s worst fear? Logan finding out their feelings for him, and Logan finding them repulsive

-Mr. Sinister is aware of Morph's feelings for Logan, which implies they've had feelings for him for a while now

Those two things are very important for me, and just adds to their relationship more. Imagine a scene where Morph tells Logan expecting him to be grossed out by him, but instead, Logan accepts them and hugs them or smthn. I'd honestly cry if I saw that.

Happy ending for the gays :D

So, so many stories of unrequited gay love or "burying your gays." I don't think they're gonna kill Morph as a lot of their time was spent being dead, but I can see them being rejected by Wolvie. Which is completely fine! Again, I'm not saying that they need to be together! Having a scene like this or this would be great!

But also, I think a lot of people are just tired of having gays get unhappy endings in media, be that rejection for a straight relationship or just straight up dying. Morph's VA believes that it's important to have a gay character be rejected by a straight guy since it's happened to so many people in real life, and I do agree with it! But also, this is fiction, and escapism, and goddamnit, people just want their favorite characters to be happy!

Good queer rep

Imma br so fr: Marvel shows and movies are shit when it comes to queer representation. It's getting better, but it's still shit. It's either a one-off comment or queerbaiting. Apparently, Loki is genderfluid? That's great! Would've been nice to actually see! Bucky Barnes is implied to be bisexual (he mentioned a lot of tiger photos on Tinder, tiger photos are mostly posted by men, it implies he was looking at men's profiles on tinder) but again, that's only implied, and you gotta dig deep to realize it, so really, only people who are actively looking or are in those communities know. America Chavez is gay, (haven't read her comics, but I think she's also gay in the comics :D), but I didn't even know that until I saw it on the wiki. I don't feel like going through all of it, so here are some links to posts that talk about it. Link 1, Link 2, Link 3

Honestly, it'll boils down to wanting to appease the cishet male audience.

X-men is a bit different though, as the series was literally MADE to be woke. Like, here's a post I made that talks about it bcuz I don't feel like repeating myself. Except Marvel shows are cowards, so they'll probably tone-down the wokeness. Smthn about "Wolverine can't be queer bcuz he's mainstream" and they gotta appease that cishet audience! Except that's exactly WHY it would be great for Wolvie to be in a queer relationship! Because he's mainstream! He's already a super popular character, and having him be queer would be great, because a lot of queer people will look up to a character that they already liked before! Straight men have a shit ton of characters that represent them. What's wrong with queer men having a character thar can represent them? Same with lesbians, bisexuals, trans people, literally anyone under the queer umbrella.

I latched onto Morph so heavily because they're nonbinary and gender-nonconforming, which matches my gender expression so heavily. And if I can be so extremely happy with a character that gets a couple minutes of screen time being queer, imagine how happy people will be when a main character whose in a queer relationship gets even more screen time?

Also, Wolvie dated the literal actually Hercules in one comic. Don't come at me yall, it can happen.

And if Marvel wants to add queer rep but is still shy about it, Morph would be a great start. It's like putting little kids into the shallow end of the water because the deep end is scary.

Morph only exists in the X-men cartoon and Exiles comics. Unless you're this tiny community on tumblr, no one gives a shit about Morph. When people think about their nostalgia for X-men 92, no one thinks of Morph. Their ass literally DIED in the first episode, wasn't even in the goddamn intro, and only appeared for like, 6 episodes, and they didn't even exist in the comics. So, paring up with Wolverine would be the "safe" option. It wouldn't be like pairing up Bucky with Sam or Cap (no matter how many people would love that), because no one knows who Morph even is. People would say, "Oh, Wolverine got with Morph!" and most people would reply with, "Who?" Safer option so less people get mad. Just dipping a foot into the pool of queerness, lol.

Yeah, it sucks that there has to be a "safe" option, but I'm also very attached ti this ship and Marvel needs to learn that queerness isn't some evil thing that drives away customers.

Tldr; Morpherine should be canon bcuz It would put an end go the Jogan love triangle, it already has good buildup, it leads to a happy ending for the gays,

[tired-biscuit]

getting high with step brother kiba and you guys are actually getting along and of course he ends up fucking you 🫡

omgomgomg you take a bit too much because you’re inexperienced and want to impress your mocking older brother, but instead you end up giggling non-stop while playfighting with him… and one thing leads to another, thoughts fuzzy and warm, and then all of a sudden you’re kind of grinding against each other and are panting against each other’s mouths and he’s got his hand under your shirt and then in your panties, easing two fingers inside you before you can really realise what’s happening, asking if you’d maybe wanna sit on his dick, that it’d feel even better…

and you’re so loud; you’re noisy and can’t stay still and you keep squirming around the bed, saying no and yes at the same time, so he has to keep you quiet before anyone else can hear… and then when you finally get to that messy, fully-clothed sex that you’re both desperate for, rocking against one another and trying not to moan or shake up the bed too much, it straight up terrifies you how right it feels.

like the whole fullness and warmth and the smell of him… the weight of his body on top of yours, the way he stretches you and bends your leg so that he can reach even deeper... the things he tells you; the crude praises as he strokes your thigh and holds your hand. it fucks you up BAD.

and then the morning after is so weird and awkward because you’re trying to pretend like the entire never happened at all and it’s pissing him off.

[alianoralacanta]

I want to believe this. I really do.

Williams' statement is standard boilerplate for this situation, entirely compatible with Williams having mentioned the concussion. Perhaps I no longer like the ambiguity constructed by what is not being said, in the context of other developments in F1.

However… nothing in the link says a concussion or any other form of head injury was mentioned or tested for. MotoGP has started reaping the consequences of obscuring a drop in testing quantity and quality in concussions, and I don't want F1 to follow suit, because having a good solid testing protocol sometimes isn't the complete solution one would hope it to be.

I'm going to take the opportunity to talk about F1's concussion protocol. This is because it is the first sport to have a concussion protocol at all, and as such it has some differences in how it operates compared to other sports' protocols.

F1 Concussion Protocol (historically)

Sid Watkins devised F1's first concussion protocol in 1998, with help from Gary Hartstein (his deputy) and Indycar doctors Steve Olvey and Terry Trammell. This used a combination of three tools: 1) Baseline testing. At the start of the season, Sid Watkins got every driver to complete a series of tests. Jacques Villenueve, anticipating a problem that rugby has notably had in subsequent years, suggested he could deliberately underperform at baseline to maximise his chances of returning to play in the event of a crash. Gary told him that if he caught anyone underperforming, he'd ban them from competing for a month because he would assume they already had a concussion. In the end, the competitive nature of drivers meant that they performed their best - drivers wanted to be able to tell others in their gossiping sessions that they'd beaten (or held their own) against each other.

2) Computerised assessment of responses. Using a computer program, Sid and Gary were able to consistently check drivers at the medical centre after large accidents. Eventually, the threshold was set at 15 G because in F1, accidents below this rarely result in anything worse than minor soreness and bruising. The computer remembered previous responses and used them to help make an objective diagnosis. For many years, ImPACT was used, though I do not know whether this or a different program is now used. Originally, this took 20 minutes to run, including some gaps in between tests (while the computer worked out the results) that made space for tool #3:

3) Asking questions. There's a certain subjective evaluation to assessing a concussion, although there are systems that allow a lot of them to be identified objectively. Concussion often affects how someone arrives at an answer, which in 1998 wasn't something a computer could assess very well. However, if a driver said something completely out-of-character or was obviously a guess at the correct answer instead of simply recalling it from memory, a human doctor can make the correct diagnosis that way. The F1 protocol, unlike many other sports, specifically allowed return to competition at the same event if it was possible to medically demonstrate that recovery was likely to have occurred. However, it had and as far as I know still has a high threshold for that permission.

Possible Issues With the Procedure

The protocol is not foolproof, and it does rely on drivers making sure they self-monitor for aggravation of symptoms when next in the car. Nobody has yet devised a concussion protocol that 100% reliably assesses someone for driving at over 100 mph while they are sitting in a medical centre, nor is this likely to occur.

It also depends on the FIA being given accurate information. This doesn't always happen. Max Verstappen and Red Bull hid the fact that Max had a concussion during parts of the second half of 2021 successfully, until after the FIA could penalise either for doing so. Earlier than that, in Sochi 2016, Carlos Sainz somehow managed to get through one of these evaluations without mentioning to the medical team he had concussion (and without anyone on his team doing so either). Hopefully this makes my lingering concern about this matter make more sense. (As well as why I think the FIA did the best they could with the Colapinto situation, regardless of what information it did or did not have).

i dont want to defend williams but like some of you need to start fact checking. franco was medically cleared to race. williams didn't make him race while medically unfit. chill out

[daisyofwaterdeep]

I just love how you write Zevlor! I need more of how you write him. Imagine the early part where he is hopelessly pining. So pitiful and so pathetic. It brings the sadistic part out of me.

kjnckjndsc Zevlor is so fun to teaseeeeeeee

!NSFW!

-You're not stupid. Zevlor may not be aware, but he's painfully obvious about his crush on you

-You like him too, but it's far too fun to flirt with him and see him get all flustered for you to rush things along

-So unbeknownst to him, you torture the hellrider

-Leaning over his desk as you talk with him, showing off your cleavage. Touching your lips like an absent-minded habit as the two of you talk. Touching his arm, hands, back every chance you get

-And every single time, Zevlor turns into a stammering mess. His eyes go to the floor, his cheeks turn a deeper red, and his tail wags nervously behind him. He's absolutely adorable like this, and you love turning partly away or acting distracted so you can see those fiery eyes greedily rake over your body, only for him to return to his embarrassed avoidance when you turn back to him

-You're always thinking of new ways to (sweetly) torture him, and the perfect opportunity presents itself when you fall down and scrape your knee

-It's nothing terrible, but it is bleeding and throbbing like a bitch. So you make your way to Zevlor's office, taking a moment to shimmy off your panties and stash them away first

-His serious face melts away as soon as he sees you, a smile already pulling at his lips, but then he sees you hobble into the room, and it disappears

-"Are you alright? What happened?"He's at your side in an instant, his nerves seemingly forgotten as he wraps an arm around your waist to support you

-You explain that you took a nasty tumble, and figured that he would know a thing or two about first aid

-Zevlor leads you into the room, and before he can usher you into his chair, you hop up on his desk instead, bunching your dress up high in your lap to show off more leg than necessary. His hand lingers a moment too long on your back before he pulls away, heading towards the chest in the corner of the room

-"I've got a healing potion that'll take care of it--"

-You cut him off and tell him not to waste a healing potion on a scrape

-He looks like he wants to argue, but he holds his tongue and rifles around in the chest to procure a roll of bandages and some ointment

-When he returns to you and kneels down, you have to fight a victorious smile back. You've got him exactly where you want him

-You can feel the hesitancy in his fingers as he gently cups the back of your calf and inspects the scrape. His glowing eyes are focused and he's got a light scowl on his face

-"It looks to be shallow, so that's a relief. It should heal up nicely. Likely won't even leave a scar."

-You tell him with a smile how that's a shame, because you think scars can be quite sexy

-His eyes flicker up to you for the briefest moment before returning to your knee, his scowl faltering before firmly setting back in

-"I'm putting the ointment on now," He says, voice calm and level, seeming to completely ignore your comment, "My apologies, but it may sting a bit..."

-You had anticipated the sting, and even counted on it. Your heart hammers as he smears a generous helping on two of his fingers and brings them to the wound

-It's about as bad as you expected--which is to say, not bad at all. But as his careful fingers make contact with the enflamed skin, you let your breath hitch and a small whine leave you. He pulls back immediately, eyes refusing to look up at you

-"Shhh, shh, I know...Just a little unpleasantness and it'll be over..."

-You can see that his breathing's a little faster too. Even if he's perfected his pokerface, you can see that your little outburst has affected him. Time to step it up a notch

-His fingers slowly return and begin rubbing the ointment in. You hiss between your teeth and let out pathetic noises that would make any eavesdropper blush. A particularly breathy "fuck" under your breath has Zevlor biting his bottom lip--a look that seems to be from his focus, but you're pretty sure is from something else

-"There we go", His voice is husky and he quickly clears his throat, "The hard part is over."

-Oh, you beg to differ. You have a feeling that some things are about to get a lot harder

-You scoot forward on the desk, purposely pressing your knees together as he's distracted with unrolling the gauze

-He looks back up, already reaching for your leg, then realizes the problem. You play dumb, waiting for him to say it

-"I'll need you to--" He gestures vaguely with the bandage, but you just blink down at him, acting as if you're completely oblivious. He swallows roughly and quietly finishes his sentence, "....To open your legs."

-You pretend like you just noticed and apologize, all the while electric desire zips down your spine. You spread your knees, your hands still tangled in your dress and drawing it up further on your thighs as you do so

-And then it happens. Zevlor notices. You see his fiery eyes wander between your legs and then freeze before shooting back to your knee, his nostrils flaring and his jaw flexing. His hands seem to be locked in time, unable to move as he processes the fact that he just saw your bare pussy, and that it's mere inches from him

-You softly call his name, and you can see him fight the reaction to look up at you, but he keeps his eyes glued to your knee, refusing to look anywhere else. You ask him if something's wrong

-"No," He responds, his deceptively calm voice somewhat frayed and strained around the edges, "Sorry, I was...thinking."

-His hands begin working, their movements stiff and clumsy with his nerves. You can see his tail behind him, sliding back and forth against the floor in jittery arcs

-Even with his nerves, he's making quick work of your knee, wrapping it snugly and expertly, his fingers brushing against your skin with practiced gentleness. You know you don't have long

-You sigh and tell him how much you appreciate this. You ask him if there's anything you can do to repay him

-"No repayment is necessary." Zevlor fastens the bandage in place and you can see him take one last not-so-secret glance at your pussy before he stands, turning immediately away from you. "You're all set."

-To be honest, you're equal parts impressed and disappointed. Zevlor really is a gentleman, through and through.

-He crouches down by the chest in the corner, busying himself with putting the ointment away, and you take the opportuinty to hop off his desk, finally letting your dress fall back down your legs in defeat

-The teasing has been fun, but with how polite Zevlor is, you know that he'll never be the one to make the first move. It's about time that you take matters into your own hands

-You call his name again and see his back straighten and his head turn, just enough so that you can see one of his flickering eyes. You tell him that you'd really like to repay him...perhaps tonight?

-His head turns back to the chest, obscuring his face entirely from you. "What do you have in mind?"

-Faking nonchalance, you make your way to the door, voice light and airy as you say that he seemed quite interested in what's between your legs, so you suppose the two of you can start there

-Zevlor is completely silent, frozen yet again as he realizes that he had been caught looking. You wave at his back, even if you know he can't see it, and tell him that you'll see him tonight, in your room

-You leave, heart hammering and a giddy little laugh escaping you despite yourself. You'd skip through the camp if your knee wasn't busted up

[nervermim]

Okay but a second son and prince that grow up with a crush on you knowing that you are in love with his old brother, also knowing that his brother would break your heart.

Yandere stuff, male x male (makes sense in the context be that so hard to pretend it's a FEM reader), medieval times, bad English idc that its

Okay but he totally fall in love with you. He was younger than you and you were his old brother cool friend, a son of a high noble that made you be always in the castle, visiting his old brother and playing

And he always tried to look cool but you just saw him as the cute young brother, the lil baby and whatever, it's was a little frustrating

Become more frustrating when he got older and older and start to realize that you are in love with his brother.

He was happy that you also like boys but... He was not happy that the man you decided to love was his older brother...

Ofc would be his brother. Why you never gave him a chance instead? He wasn't just a boy anymore, he was already a knight and respectable second prince... Why he still a little kid for your eyes?

It wasn't a secret for anyone in the palace, besides wall having eyes and ears nobody was totally sure about that was happening between you and the heir of throne.

But he knew.

He saw you two, holding hands, kissing, hugging, smiling and changing love words.

He heard you two, the way he made you breathless, the way he touched your skin and made you moan, the beautiful sounds you made.

You made for his brother.

But he wasn't worried about losing you. Because he knew his brother is going to break your heart. Oh he was sure of it.

And when his brother break your heart, he is going to hold you in his arms, and make you realized that you should had chosen him, not his stupid old brother.

And how he knows his brother is going to break your heart?

Well it's not hard, his brother is the heir of the throne, the next king. And a king needs a queen, and needs a heir. And a queen it's something you can never be as a man. And giving him a heir is also something you can never give him since you don't have the body for that.

He just needs to wait in silence, waiting and hoping the day you be free to be his... Finally his.

And didn't take too long. The marriage of his old brother is soon public, with a princess from a close kingdom, she is beautiful and a woman, and she is going to marry the first prince and blah blah blah

The last time the second prince see you is when you and his brother are fighting. He wasn't supposed to see that but he is a little happy to see. Now he can finally see his brother letting you go so he can have you!

Then his brother says.

"I don't understand why you so angry, I thought it was obvious that I would never stay with you! You are a man, I could never assume a man, I'm a future king, a need a queen, a women to give me a heir"

"what we have were just... Some fun... It never supposed to look like I love you"

His mind goes blank, he didn't even realize that you ran away after his brother saying that. He sees red, he wants to kill his brother right now... But he won't. That's just a time waste for him, he has more important things.

And you are this important thing.

The next months he tried his best, letters, visiting your family house, presents, invites. Nothing. You put not only him but everyone in a full radio silence.

Even your parents and siblings are starting to get worried, he heard how the maids are worried with you, not leaving your room and refusing to eat, to talk, just wanting to be alone.

Soon doctors are called to your house, your father looks really concerned about your health and your mother even stops going in parties just to take care of you.

He sees how your siblings get more protective about your situation but he knows the truth, nothing of what they are trying will help you get better.

He underestimate the love you felt. You're not just a silly heart broke man, your heart can be cured, because his brother smashed your poor heart like nothing.

He was dumb, he should thought that this could happened, he could tried something to avoid making you suffer so much. But now you are in a serious depression and he has part of that.

Because he wanted his brother to break your heart... But he never wanted to see you like that.

Then the news hit him like a bomb. Your parents after not knowing that to do, will move you to the city to a small house in village, some maids and one of your siblings will go with you to take care of you.

This could look like some vacation, but it's not. Not in the noble society.

They are portraying you as an invalid, an incapable, someone who will never be able to join noble society again.

It's almost like they gave up on you. But he doesn't blame your family, not when he knows how they tried to help you.

It's all his brother fault. If he hasn't played with your heart nothing of that would happened. Yes... With all his fault.

The life as... As like living at same time you still sleeping. You didn't wanted to talk, so you stayed in silence most time, sometimes you would cry then your sibling you hold you, some maids you try read you a story.

They would help you to eat, even bath you. And again and again you would sit in a chair outside, just watching the trees and birds, living like something has destroyed your life.

Maybe it was a little too dramatic right? You feel pathetic for acting like that after what happened... But everytime you closed your eyes you would heard his words again.

It's a cloudy day when the second prince came to visit you. You not sure how he found out where you were staying, yours parents said they take care of it so nobody would know. But he is the prince, probably they could hide this from him.

For a moment you think he will say something about the first prince, but he doesn't, and you don't know if you are happy or not about that.

He stay for dinner, saying he will stay just more one or two days to visit you and make sure you are fine. You still don't talk, and he don't make you do it too, he still smiling even when you are ignoring him while he talk to you.

At night you and him still outside, it's not too cold, you are watching the fireflies and just seeing the moon. Nothing too amazing. He sit next to you, smiling and looking at the sky.

Still hurts. He is not like his brother, not in look or act, but he still his young brother and hurt you just remembering him.

"you know? It's okay know, it... It can imagine it's hurt for you, but you can have all time you need, you don't need to overcome this trauma just because they say you should" he says smiling at you.

"I'm going to take care of you, and besides that, now no one can hurt you again, so you can be free to try be happy again" he says and you don't understand his words, then he hold your hands and put something on them.

Rings. He put two golden rings in your hand, one is smaller the the other... They had blood stains and have two names you can recognize immediately.

The first prince name and the princess name. Those are their marriage rings. With blood.

And the second prince still looking and smiling at you. And for the first time you wanted to be able to talk again, because you want to scream.

[doshi-sukiru]

Hi!

I’m so interested in your Shattered Glass MegOP tfone AU! I wanted to ask since you mentioned that Optimus banished Megatron after their fight out of anger.

Then you also mentioned that Optimus thinks Megatron is a prisoner of war and is trying to get him back.

At what point did he go from “he betrayed me” to “oh my primus he’s clearly been kidnapped”? Especially since I assume Megatron and the High Guard willingly left for the surface the same as in the movie. Like did he immediately change his mind after Megatron left or like was there a brief moment where he had to think about it?

Sorry sksksk I’m just so invested hahaha

LMAO no worries you're good

So when Megatron first came back, Optimus believed it was D-16 in a new frame. He began to hug him and talk to him and act like how he used to, but Megatron could see how Optimus tore apart Sentinel behind him, and could see other mechs destroying Iacon and causing destruction. Megatron tried to pull away from Optimus and get him to realize that what he's doing is worse than good.

I mentioned before as well that D-16 was against killing Sentinel in cold blood, which annoyed Orion before, and seeing Megatron act like this still after coming back only angered Optimus.

Megatron tried to suggest that instead they should first find a way to bring back energon to the people, and let the high guard return to their positions to get more servos to help fight against the Quintessons, and because the high guard were good mechs.

Unfortunately, telling an angry Optimus that while having Starscream behind you, who Optimus tried to kill before, doesn't make the situation any better.

Optimus didn't think that Megatron was speaking his mind, or was trying to help Optimus, and immediately jumped into thinking that Starscream had taken his D-16 and persuaded him to go against Optimus. So, naturally, he lunged at Starscream in anger, but Megatron got in the way, and the two fought- with Optimus trying to throw Megatron to the side and hit Starscream, and Megatron trying to calm him down.

When they finally returned to the pit entrance, most of the high guard were there, and stood behind Megatron to protect him if Optimus tried to fight again. In that moment, Optimus's anger was so pent up he immediately yelled at Megatron and the high guard to be banished once again to the surface. He wasn't thinking about much else other than the fact that if Megatron wouldn't stand by his choices, he didn't deserve to be in Iacon either.

Megatron didn't go willingly at first, and tried to demand Optimus listen to him, but Soundwave stopped him, warning him that any more talk with Optimus would be useless with how angry the prime was, and when Megatron looked at Optimus he realized he was right. So he left with the high guard.

It took Optimus about a few hours before he cooled down and realized what he did, and felt crushed knowing he did something so terrible. But, Optimus has never accepted such faults before, and immediately began to try to divert the blame from him to someone or something else.

That's when he got that special idea- Starscream must have corrupted D-16's mind and had the the high guard force him to leave with them, because why would D-16 leave Optimus? The two were best buddies, almost conjunxes! It couldn't have been a choice he'd make willingly, because D-16 never acted out of line, he always did as told and followed Optimus no matter what!

So that was what spawned the idea that his beloved was a hostage, and not an equal with them.

thank you! again, any other ask you have you can give, I'll answer them as best as I can until friday!

[amuseoffyre]

Fyre's Convention Adventures - Day 3 - A Great and Terrible Acte of Piracie 😁

A bonus surprise on the last day was that we got gifted a cast photograph and there was a second session of autographs for the people who had missed them on Saturday, but also for everyone else to get a second round :)

Since we’d come out of the last panels, I was piled high with my muppety crew and figured it would be a nice last chance to let the squad see them. Honestly, no ulterior motives going in, which made all that came next all the more delightful :D

Nathan was the first table and could see how many of the squad I was juggling and said it was fantastic that I’d brought them down for the con itself because “they’ve brought everyone so much joy”.

Rhys had a little giggle at the next table when he saw me coming with a pal bearing Calypso because between the photo, the sack of mups, the general goodie bag and everything else, I was quite the pack mule.

Con, Vico and Kristian, however, had been so very excited about the muppets at the fanmeet and photo session that I figured I would have each of theirs out when I got to their tables and then, alas, I was assailed by marauding pirates and came home empty handed XD

Me, with Izzy muppet on my arm: by the way, I was wondering if you’d like me to ship him to you, since you’re off to the US tomorrow Con: o.0 Con: wait, you were serious about giving him to me? Me: I mean, if you want him– Con: *wheechs Izzy right off my hand and into his arms, cradling him like a baby* Con: Everyone go home, this is all I’ll be doing now Me: 😂 That’ll be a yes then XD Con: :D :D :D

He leaned over to show his handler Izzy’s poseable hands, which were arranged to flip the bird and solemnly told him “That’s my favourite bit”. After my hype-man told him I was undercharging for commissions, he told me “yeah, charge more for your commissions” and I can’t not now, can I?

Needless to say I was a bit giggly and vibrating in place after that, because technically, I didn’t give anyone anything (first rule of the con – don’t give guests things directly) and by the time I got to Vico, I hadn’t been given a smack on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper for breaking the rules.

They were so giddy to see Jim muppet again.

Me: I was serious about you having them if you want them Vico: O.O Vico, to their handler: … can I… do that? Vico’s handler: *shrugs a bit* Me: If I just… lay it on this table, it would be very bad if something happened or someone… took it. So bad. Vico, giggling like a fiend: *bats Jim off the table and down beside their chair* OH NO. IT’S GONE Me: OH NOOOO. I HAVE BEEN ROBBED. SOMEONE HAS THIEVED ME. HOW SAD. Vico: Noooooo :D :D :D Me: *flips another of the Jim costumes over the table, down beside the mup* Vico: OMG IT CHANGES CLOTHES!?!?! :D :D :D :D

And, of course, Calypso, my grand lady. I made her especially for Kristian since most of my muppet designs have a very narrow neck and I wasn’t sure if he would be able to put his hand in it. Instead, I’d redesigned and rebuilt her from the base up, with a wider opening in the back of her head and making her free-standing as well. Top of head to bottom of her skirt, she’s around a metre compared to the rest who are about 50cm.

He gave her such a doting look when I got to him and hell, if I could be banditted by 2, why not make it a hat trick :D

Him: she’s so gorgeous Me, keeping an eye on his handler: I can’t technically… give her to you, but hypothetically, if someone stol– Kristian: *across the table with both arms and has her gone and out of sight beside him in a blink* :D Me: Oh nooo :D Kristian, catching my hands and squeezing them: Thank you *so* much for this :) Me: Absolutely my pleasure :)

Nothing like ending the weekend by being robbed by pirates :D

According to a pal who was stewarding, when they finished Con had Izzy whispering in his ear and then carried him out the room, level with his shoulder, and Kristian told Nathan off for almost standing on Calypso then made him carry her :D

I can’t express the sheer dizzying joy of experiencing their excitement and delight with my lil crew and how eagerly they tilted into to full silly play with them. I know the cast have been liking them on IG when I post them but this was another level and I am so utterly overwhelmed by it. Every so often, I think about it and have a happy little giggle about it all.

[posting-for-the-void]

So a lot of twins claim to have a sort of twintuition thing where they understand each other easily and often without words, and sometimes have high-level empathetic reactions to things that are happening to the other twin, even if they don’t know what’s happening to the other twin because they are in different locations at the time. There’s obviously not a lot of scientific evidence to back it up, but, eh. It’s a cool concept.

But what if, for the Skywalker twins, the force just ramped that up to 100.

Fic-ish thing below the cut.

Five-year-old Luke is learning the Tatooine slave language. After all, Aunt Beru used to be Beru Whitesun, before she married Uncle Owen, and his mom was Grandma Shmi, who used to be a Skywalker before she married Uncle Owen’s dad. Beru helps the recently-escaped hide in the secret compartment in the wall of their house more often than Owen does, but he claims it’s for plausible deniability, whatever that means. Leia, on Alderaan, begins mixing the harsh, clicking language with Basic subconsciously, but only when talking to herself in private. After all, she is a princess, and they must choose their words carefully in front of others.

Leia at age ten argues with her cousin about whether droids deserve respect, and across the galaxy, Luke is absolutely overcome with the need to thank every single droid he’s ever met for helping him with anything (he did this anyways before but for some reason he has to do it again Right Now).

Luke gets to drive a speeder by himself for the first time at 13 and Leia is practically begging for someone to take her out in a hovercar and go as fast as possible. And if that can’t happen she’s going to get the space equivalent of a Formula One racing sim, goddamnit.

Seventeen-year-old Junior Senator Leia’s heart skips a beat every time someone mentions Tatooine. She isn’t sure why. Obi-Wan lives there, yes, but something in her just knows that isn’t the real reason. Luke, meanwhile, yearns to see the galaxy, and often finds himself outside at night, staring at the sky. His eyes, for as long as he can remember, have always felt drawn towards a specific star. He asked Uncle Owen about it once when he was younger, and he gruffly explained that it was the Alderaan system. He feels like there’s something there, waiting for him. He’s not sure why.

And then they meet in person, and it’s “You’re a little short for a Stormtroope—Luke?”

“Leia?”

“Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so. Can I hug you?”

“Of course, you idiot. You’re my twin brother. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Thanks, Leia. You know, I had the weirdest dreams when I was ten about you and Old Ben.”

“Oh, yeah, that was actually real. I got kidnapped.”

“Cool.”

“Is it true you got nicknamed ‘Wormie’ by your friends?”

“…Yeah.”

And Han is so confused, but it’s fine, and within two hours their conversations are more like, “Hey, Leia, could you pass me the—“

“Yeah, do want the green one or the—“

“No, the blue one, probably. I need it to—“

“Oh, yeah, of course, that makes sense.”

And then Yoda tries to do the whole “Attached, you are,” routine, and Luke is like, “Well, duh. I’m only here so I can teach Leia everything I learn as soon as I get back. I’m just a pilot, which is a lot more replaceable than a princess, so we thought it would be best if I come learn from you instead of her.”

And meanwhile Leia is a lot stronger in the force now, and she meets Vader again and just goes, “Darth Dad, what the actual fuck,” under her breath in the Tatooine slave language, and the hint of Anakin that’s left absolutely freezes. Because Palpatine—Sideous—whatever, he said his kid was dead. He said that Padme died and the kid did too. He lied. And, when he meets Luke later, and he says the same Sithspitting thing, Anakin gets so thrown he accidentally cuts the kid’s hand off. Luke falls, and the shock of it in the force is so strong, and Anakin’s eyes flash blue in grief and love and hope, all at once, and all of the sudden he can think clearly for the first time in years. And his kids’—his kids!—bond in the force is so strong, how did he not notice it before?

And, anyways, I just feel like Skywalker Twintuition would be on a completely other and incomprehensible level.

[princess-of-purple-prose]

[ID copied from alt: Cinderella Stephanie Burt The trans story is the heroine has to be trans because nobody else in the capital shares her size. The prince must roam from house to house, from mansion to cottage to townhome, trying to find the one girl who came to the winter solstice ball in glass slippers (they must have hurt like hell by the end of the night, even rightly sized) with heels at least 11/2" high, and (more important) in ladies’ 131/2. But the longer trans story is the prince was already kissing and sharing secrets with his footman: raised as a boy, the prince’s favorite footman was really a girl named Cindy, but only the prince knew her chosen name. They could never marry: the kingdom wouldn’t accept it. So he told her. And he wouldn’t want anyone else. So when the king insisted he choose, at that ball, a bride, the prince arranged for Cindy to show up, splendid in tiara and heels, all starry like Andromeda viewed from a moonless mountaintop. When (the plan went) the king asked the prince the next day “Who was that girl you spend the night with?” he’d tell the king to scour the town for Cindy, the one who got away. Except that Cindy didn’t get away: instead she arranged— of course, of course, unbeknownst to him— to pop out from a family friend’s garage, then pop the question. And the prince said, “Yes, I’ve changed my mind; we’re not going to hide anymore.” That’s the version we give the cis, and it’s lovely, but the truth is almost nobody gets it right: the trans story is that the prince herself is the trans girl in the story, and like so many of us, she spent day after day— before the party, after the party, maybe instead of attending the party—crossing the town, ringing doorbells, trawling message boards, scouring yard sales and barging into shopfronts right before closing to talk to the tired clerks, never giving up her search for the one, the terrific, the just-right shoe. End ID]

from we are mermaids by stephanie burt (graywolf press, 2022)

[rainydayarcaneimagines]

One Last Night(Jayce x reader)

Warnings: SHIELD YOUR EYES FOR THE UNCOVERED ANKLES (smut. There is smut.)

It was all a shock. To land in an alternate reality where everything was fucked up. But it was an even bigger shock to him when he went to go back to his own and still ended up in the wrong reality.

There he was and everything was…

Great?

Life was almost a damn Utopia. What was crazier was Zaun and Piltover were put together and better functioning than his own damn reality. He walked the streets absolutely fucking baffled by what was happening before him. He heard tidbits and realized that in this reality his creation killed Vi, but was destroyed in the process.

From what he managed to understand, he had basically gone through his trial by getting his experiment confiscated. Even weirder, Jayce was successful in other ways but not… actually hextech.

It was beyond bizarre. Especially since… you were alive. No hextech meant no advanced weapons, no explosion, no explosion meant you were alive. Now he was fixated on finding you. If he was stuck there, he had to find you.

He had looked high and low.

And nothing.

Not a freaking sign. He sighed, sitting at a booth in a bar with his head in his hands when the gods seemed to finally answer his prayers.

“Can I get you anything sir?”

Jayce’s head snapped up and his eyes widened. You were fucking beautiful. Your hair was longer, dyed a vibrant color, just like you always said you wanted but weren’t ballsy enough to go through with it. Your eyes were brighter. You seemed happy.

“Y/n..” he breathed.

“Yeah that’s my name dude, don’t abuse it.” You chuckled.

“Jayce— it’s me Jayce.” He said staring at you. You squinted.

“Uh… do I know you man?” You asked confused. Oh fuck. No hextech meant you never got hired at the academy to be his assistant…

“Fuck uhm…” he sighed. You looked at him confused.

“You okay?” You asked. Your kindness was definitely still there.

“Uh… Shit I uhm.” He couldn’t form words. You were alive. The love of his fucking life was alive. But didn’t know who he was.

“…Need a drinking buddy?” You asked.

“…Yeah that uhm… Yes please.” He nodded.

“Vander! I’m taking my break!” You called out. Holy crap— Vander and Silco were alive?! And running a damn bar—“what’s got you so weirded out right now?” You asked.

“Why do you think I’m weirded out?” He muttered.

“Because you looked… bugged out, like you just took a fucking ice bath dude.” You shrugged. Glad to see your bluntness was still intact too.

Jayce smiled sadly before sighing. “I uhm… well I just… feel like a fish out of water.” He admitted.

“Why’s that?” You asked.

“…” did he risk sounding nuts, potentially causing you to freak the fuck out? Did he risk pushing you away from him? Fuck it. Things were still out of control in his reality, he needed to find a way back and there was someone he knew had a brilliant enough of a damn mind to make it work. “This is going to sound crazy but—“

He explained it all. From start to finish. You of course, stared at him like he was nuts. “Yeah but do you have proof dude, because right now you sound batshit.” You said after the explanation.

He sighed leaning back. “Your favorite song is Midnight blues. But you always say it’s Eros.” He says. You snorted.

“Okay weirdo maybe you just lurk on my Next tune—“

“You are allergic to peanuts. You always wanted a poro but your allergies stop you so you have a hairless cat instead. You love to sit on top of the old factory at night because it overlooks everything and you love to see the city at night, you love ionian literature, you hate the sounds of trucks that run too loud and flip off the driver every time you see one.” He listed off. Some of those were habits you knew no one would know. And he knew this. “You wear your grandmother’s locket. It has a picture of both your grandparents inside, the damn thing is almost eighty years old and has their initials engraved on the heart.” That. That detail made you believe him. Because you wore your locket, yes. But it was tucked inside your shirt so the pendant wouldn’t fall off.

You stared at him “..How did you—“

“Because in my reality we were together.” He said softly.

“…oh” you said. That’s why this guy stared at you like you completed his life just by merely existing. “Did we break up or something—“

“You died, Y/n… some girl— uhm… she went nuts and shot off a missile into a council meeting. Killed half the council, my partner got severely injured and… you died.” He muttered.

You blinked “…No offense, really. But if… your reality is really that shit, why are you so eager to go back?” You asked.

“Because before I ended up in this one, I saw what happens when I don’t succeed. I gotta say. It’s bad.” He said. You sighed.

“Why… tell me all this?” You asked.

“Because I know your mind. I know your talent Y/n, if anyone can help me I know it’s you.” He said softly. You stared at him before sighing again and running your fingers through your hair.

“…I mean I don’t even know how to start with time travel.” You admitted.

“I don’t either.” He admitted. “But… I think if we work together we can figure it out.” He said softly. He put his hand over yours that rested on the table and you pulled away. He mentally scolded himself that you didn’t know him in this reality.

“Okay I mean I can try but don’t be disappointed if me in this universe isn’t a damn genius.” You said leaning back in the booth. You seemed to have a lightbulb moment. “But my dad might know.” You added.

Your dad. You never mentioned even in your relationship in his reality who your dad was. He assumed he wasn’t around in his reality.

“Hey! Dad!” You called. Silco looked over.

“Yes kid?” He asked. Jayce froze. Silco? Silco the gods damned inventor was your dad? The man who basically made Vi’s sister into Jinx was your dad? That’s why you never mentioned this?!

“Come here for a sec.” You motioned. He walked from behind the bar and sat down. With zero hesitation you explained everything Jayce had told you. You trusted Silco. You clearly loved your dad too.

“…Well this is… interesting.” He said.

“Yeah. Any idea where to start?” You asked.

“My best educated guess is string theory. You made a major event. You came back here from a major event. So maybe make a major event. Your uh… hex something or other, doesn’t exist in this world, do you know how to make it again?” He asked.

“Yeah..” he admitted.

“Then I’d start there. And maybe try to do what you did to your core in your timeline to that one?” He suggested.

“That’s… solid advice. Thank you silco.” He nodded. The fuck? Silco never said his name..

“Right. Be careful Y/n.” He muttered before getting up.

“Thanks dad.” You nodded. Jayce looked at you. “What?” You asked.

“Your dad is Silco?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. Why? Was he not in your reality” You asked.

“No he was but… nevermind.” Jayce sighed.

“We can use my dad’s workshop. Plenty of space. Come on.”

You started working. Days Jayce spent close to you, working on calculations and making a hexcore. Many nights he found you sleeping at your desk. And every time his coat would be wrapped around you in the morning when you woke up.

It was strange. A man you swear you had never met loved you so much that you could tell that the closer you got to cracking this, the more he struggled with the idea of losing all you over again.

It had been a week. You walked over to him sitting on the couch with calculations.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked. He looked up and nodded. “…Were we happy?” You asked softly.

His focused gaze cracked to a soft fondness. “We were.” He told you.

“…And even though I don’t really know you… do you still love—“

“Without question.” He said softly. You stared at him in silence. You almost felt sad. To have such a firm romantic love from someone, even if it was from another timeline but not be able to know, to share that feeling with this man that seemed to unconditionally love you…

There was guilt. You thought of throwing him a line, flirt with him. But you didn’t want what you knew were his last memories with you to be a lie. You couldn’t force yourself to love this stranger either.

“Jayce?”

“Mhm?”

“What if we went on a date?” You asked. He seemed shocked by this suggestion. “I mean… you feel this love for me. And judging by the way you mentioned your memories of other me, it was mutual and it… bugs me that I can’t really share that.” You said.

He looked at you like he was happy yet still… sad. “Sure, Y/n. Where would you like to go?” He asked softly. He couldn’t refuse one last lasting memory with you. Not when this wound still felt this fresh.

“Uh… well I dunno. This version of me never went on a date before so..”

“Mm. I can figure it out. Come on.” He said getting up.

“Oh— now?”

“Yeah. I know where we should go. Come on.” He said softly.

So you went. On a date. From that moment on, every night was a date. Spend the day working with this strange little blue glowy ball, then go off to dinner. What was worse? You knew this version of you was going to lose him. But you still fell in love with him anyway.

It was the final night. The last piece had been clicked into place thanks to Ekko and Heimerdinger in the same damn predicament. Heimerdinger insisted he needed to make adjustments. In reality he was giving the boys time to say goodbye.

You sat across from him in your apartment. “So this is it… after tonight you’re going back.” You said softly.

“Yeah… yeah I uhm… I am.” He nodded clearing his throat.

You looked in his eyes “…I didn’t expect this to be hard.”

“For what to be—“

“You leaving.” Jayce went silent. You drew in breath “…after these dates, these… times… I get why I loved you, Jayce.”

He swallowed hard. “Then… let’s treat this night like it really is our last.” He said softly.

You looked over at him “how?”

He pulled you closer to him from the chair you were sitting in. “…Let me love you for one last night.” He said softly. You broke at that. This was your last night. You were losing the only romantic love you have ever known. You had had “situationships” that pretty much were just sex but nothing like this. You had two options. Cry….

Or cherish it.

You kissed him. For the first time you kissed someone. Was this absolutely bizarre? Oh fuck yeah. But you didn’t regret it.

He pulled you even closer, into his lap, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. He needed you like fucking air right now. One final victory before the bigger fight he knew he’d come back to.

He kissed you, over and over again, his fingers in your hair, his other hand on your back holding you close. You slid off your shirt and his eyes widened.

“Y/n are you sure—“

“I don’t want to think anymore Jayce… I just… I want to feel.” You whispered. So that’s what he did. He kissed your neck, unhooking your bra, cupping your breast in his hand. He rolled your nipple through his fingers and you buried your face in his neck.

“We can back out at any time Y/n—“

“Don’t stop” you breathed out. No. Not breathed. You moaned. Any semblance of control the man may have had flew out the window as he pushed you onto the couch.

Kiss after kiss, hickey after hickey his hand moved lower undoing your pants. He slid his hand past the hem of your panties and you gasped, your hands covering your mouth.

He pulled them away with his freehand. “Let me hear you.” He said in your ear, rubbing circles over your clit. Your eyes fluttered closed, your hands moving to his hair as you took moaning breaths.

“J-Jayce I need—“

“I know baby. I know.” He said pulling off your pants. There you were sprawled out naked under him as he pulled off his belt. He let it hit the floor with a soft clatter and he gently spread your thighs.

“Gods if we had time I’d be worshipping you right now,” he murmured. You kissed him as he lined himself up. With a gasp from you he pushed in and you gripped the couch moaning as he moved. He went the pace he knew you loved. Deep, and fast.

“Oh gods— don’t stop please don’t fucking stop!” You moaned.

“That’s it. Let me hear you.” He whispered in your ear. Gods his voice as he was absolutely railing you was making this very difficult not to finish on the spot. It didn’t help that his fingers found their way back to your clit rubbing circles as he kept going with his thrusts.

In.

Breaths kept mingling

Out.

Kisses and moans filled the room.

Back in.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

Back out.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as he thrusted, your head tilting back. The release hit you both, his face buried in your neck as he panted against you.

After a few minutes he pulled away looking in your eyes. You looked at him with that same warmth. That soft smile. But from both of you it had an underlying sadness. You looked in his eyes before you swallowed hard, looking down.

“…Jayce..?” You murmured

“Yeah?”

“Do you… really have to go?” You mumbled. He sighed softly.

“Believe me. If I didn’t, I would stay right here with you.” He muttered.

“What if I went with you..?” You muttered.

“Baby, I don’t know how that would go… you died in my reality. If I brought you from this one… you might die… again.” He said softly.

You looked sad. “I’m never going to see you again… am I?” You murmured.

“…I don’t know. I will find a way to come back once all this shit in my reality is over.” He murmured. You swallowed hard.

“And if you can’t?” You muttered.

“I will.” He said determined. You looked in his eyes. You could tell he meant it.

“Then let’s get you to that weird little core then.”

[ylangelegy]

hii,

for the prompt game: seungkwan + " its not like i'm in love with you or anything"

can't wait to see what you do with it !! ♡♡♡

ⵌ non-idol!seungkwan x reader. ⵌ word count: 999. ⵌ notes: alternate universe: non-idol, childhood best friends, fake dating -ish. a, i will give you the world!!! 🫰

"You've got to be kidding me."

Alas, you've known your best friend Seungkwan long enough to know that he is, in fact, not joking. You can see the familiar set of his jaw, the spark of mischief in his eyes. It's the same expression that the brunette has sported since you were children on the playground, pulling pranks on one another.

This was yet another one of the many practical jokes he wanted to pull, except you were now an accomplice instead of the victim. "Kwan," you say. Slowly, like you're explaining something to a five year old. "I'm not going to pretend to be your girlfriend just to make your ex jealous."

"Why nooot?" he whines. He's splayed out on your bed, half his body hanging out the mattress as he attempts to give you a pitiful, puppy dog-like gaze. "It's not like I'm in love with you or anything. I just need to show her what she's missing."

"By going out with the girl you told her not to worry about?" you ask wryly.

"Exactly! You got it!"

"I was being sarcastic."

Seungkwan lets out a drawn-out groan. He curls up further into your sheets, his expression contorted into one of childish petulance. It's difficult to believe that the man in front of you is twenty-something and not, in fact, a teenager who isn't getting his way.

"You're a terrible best friend," he accuses. "The absolute worst."

You would be more offended if you haven't received the brunt of Seungkwan's tantrums throughout the years. "I am," you say empathetically. "And that's why you're still here, bothering the hell out of me."

He gives you an exaggerated sniffle in return. "It'll literally be just for a day. You don't even have to say anything― just stand there and be your usual, pretty self."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Boo."

"This isn't flattery. It's a negotiation." A beat. He looks thoughtful, which is never a good sign for a conniving Seungkwan. "Okay― how about you just hold my hand?"

From where you are across the room― your computer chair, by your desk― you raise an eyebrow. "Hold your hand," you repeat.

It's not a particularly novel idea. Seungkwan was fairly tactile― prone to hugging you from behind, tugging you to and fro. Hand-holding was usually reserved for more serious moments, though, and so it feels like a bit of a travesty to imagine it being used in his little ploy.

"Just hold my hand," he prompts, scrambling to sit up. Your renewed interest in the idea seems to have given him a burst of misplaced hope. "You don't even have to― we won't even call you my girlfriend or anything. Just hold my hand for, like, an hour."

"An hour? You're greedy!"

"Alright, thirty minutes."

"Fifteen."

"Twenty-five!"

You huff out a sigh. You've never been able to deny Seungkwan, not even on your best days. "Fine. But you owe me."

You're already thinking of what you might want to cash in as the two of you roll up to your destination for the night: The dreaded high school reunion, where everyone who's anyone is gearing up to boast about their lives. Seungkwan has been single since his tumultuous relationship with She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and you can't even blame him for his petty need to prove a point.

At the door of the speakeasy, the two of you share a look.

"Ready?" he asks, holding out his hand.

With a heatless glare, you take it. Your fingers slot into the spaces between his, the same way it has a couple dozen times before this. "Twenty-five minutes," you say.

There's a hint of a smirk on your best friend's face as he pulls open the entrance for the two of you. "Don't worry," he says. "I'm already counting down in my head."

Seungkwan holds your hand as the two of you make your way to your designated table. He waves at old friends with his free hand; sometimes with your clasped hands, as if showing it off. Every so often, he'll mumble to you under his breath. Seven minutes. Thirteen minutes.

You're so caught up in the feeling of his warm palm against yours that you completely neglect one very important thing.

The dinner has started, and Seungkwan is seated at your side― your joined hands over one of his thighs― and only then do you realize. You lean in so that your mouth is by his ear, keeping your voice low amid the thrum of conversation and the faint pop music in the background. "Kwan, she's not here."

As if on instinct, Seungkwan squeezes your hand. He hums a quiet 'hm?' back, tilting his head so you can whisper a little easier.

"Your ex," you hiss. "She's not here, you idiot."

"Huh?"

Seungkwan surreptitiously glances down the table. Sure enough, the girl that had broken his heart is nowhere in sight to witness your little stunt. "Oh," he says, his tone quiet and stunned. His gaze briefly flicks to your intertwined fingers. "I didn't even notice."

Despite yourself, your heart does a little kick-flip in your chest. You clear your throat, just enough to say, "Right. Well."

"Right. I guess―" Seungkwan starts, and he makes the most half-hearted effort to disentangle from you. It's laughable.

It gives you the courage to suddenly say, "You know how you owe me?"

He pauses in the middle of pulling away. "You're cashing in already?" he inquires, that smirk from earlier making a reappearance.

"Yeah." You shift slightly, just to make sure your fingers are still snugly fit between his. With a boldness that you could applaud yourself for, you say, "I want you to hold my hand for the rest of the night, Kwan."

The smirk morphs into a smile. His fingers hold yours just a little bit tighter, because Seungkwan was never one to deny you, either. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, and he makes good on that promise.

୨ৎ * GAME, SET, PLAY ! ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.