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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 3 years

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OBSESSIVE STOLAS x Male Imp pt.4

(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

Stolas sat in the family limo, enjoying the smooth rumble of limos engine as he travelled home. Along the way, he felt... at peace.

As though, all the problems that plagued his mind before, had... evaporated.

Stolas ran a hand down his chest, his thighs grinding together as he thought about his time with you.

You were so gentle. So tender and elegant with him. As though he were some delicate piece of art.

But he knew the truth...

You handled him so delicately, because you wanted him to feel loved.

...Because you loved him.

The thought sending a whole new wave of warmth threw him.

So focused on the events that just transpired was he, he didn't even notice his arrival home.

He walked through the building blissfully unawares of all around him, almost in a drunken state.

Entering his chambers he found the bed made and empty.

Of course it was, Stella hadn't shared there bed since Blitzø fell into Stella's brunch.

He'd once found it all so charming. Blitzø's brash, rough and tumble attitude had once made him swoon.

But now when he thought about being with Blitzø, he just felt like an idiot for having thought there relationship was anything beyond a business transaction.

But now he had you. And you were all he needed now.

He fell onto his bed, not bothering with the covers. Content to just lay there and bask in the light you brought to his life.

But those tears he shed had took a toll on him, and as much as he wished to bask in this warmth he could feel sleep taking him and with one more happy thought of you, he allowed sleep take him.

He awoke early the morning, and despite being bathed in the light of Hell's crimson sun.

He felt cold.

As though all the warmth youd given him yesterday had simply vanished.

He sat up, sluggishily removing the covers went about preparing for his day of... nothing.

Stella hadn't allowed him anywhere near his usual meeting or appointments, not since- well you know what happened.

Perhaps he'd try and talk to his beloved Octavia. If she was feeling hospitable.

Hmmm. Perhaps not. He should probably just give her some space.

Besides he realised an even more important thing he could do with his morning.

Learning everything he could about You.

Turning over, he found his phone. Looking through his contacts.

He found your name, going into your contact he considered messaging you, but decided against it. He didn't want to bother you so early in the morning.

Instead he pulled up Voxtigram, his main form of communication, before typing in your name.

But he couldn't find you.

So he checked Blitzø's friend list, he eventually found you, it turns out you just had your name backwards, something that made him chuckle.

Seeing pictures of Blitzø sent pangs of sadness through his chest, but he soldiered on.

Scrolling through your pictures, he didn't find much.

Alot of them were just pictures of the places you'd been, or one of the weapons you used on the job.

He eventually did find some of you.

The first he found was you and the two other Imps that worked there, Millie and Moxxie he was pretty sure were there names.

The next was you on your first day at work.

It was a selfie of you in a group hug with Blitzø and the others.

You were all clearly being forced by Blitzø.

The awkward little smile you wore sent a wave of warmth through him.

Scrolling further down, he found more pictures of you. Most of them were just you relaxing at a variety of places, or after after getting a new outfit. Just general stuff about your life in hell.

Then he found one that made his heart skip a beat.

It was a picture of you. Wearing just a pair of shorts at the gym.

You were pulling a little pose, flexing your muscles in front of a mirror, a shy little blush across your cheeks.

Stolas' swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry.

He rubbed his thighs together as he fantasised about licking the sweat off your abs.

With a shake to his head, he decided now was a good time to get out of bed.

Leaving his phone as he went and took a nice long shower.

A nice long, cold shower.

Getting out, he chose a more casual outfit.

An old T-shirt and some jeans he reserved for comfy home clothes. He didn't have anywhere to be.

He made his way to the kitchen, where he found Octavia sitting at the table.

The more calculating part of his brain told him to just leave her alone, but he decided against it. He shouldn't hide from his daughter, she needed to know he was still there for her 'Hello darling, how did you sleep.' He asked pleasantly.

Octavia looked up at him, her eyes looking cold and annoyed. So, not all to different from her usual teenage gaze.

'I slept fine dad.' She sai, her voice dull and lifless, before looking back down at her phone.

Stolas swelled with joy.

His daughter was speaking to him again. Everything seemed seemed to be getting better for him.

Pouring himself a bowl of serial, he took a rather lecherous lstroll down memory lane, Thinking about his time with you.

He didn't know how long he'd been thinking about you, but he was quickly pulled out of it when he felt something hit him on the back.

The clanging of cutlery that followed soon after gave him a good idea of what it was.

Turning around he found a rather angry teenage owl glaring at him.

Before he could ask what was wrong. The owlet released a frustrated growl. 'Can you just not?' She asked rhetorically.

Running down her face she told him 'I have do deal with you and Mums B.S. all the time, can you just not fantasise about your fuckin Blitzy~ in front of me.'

She fell back into her seat with a huff.

Stolas was a little shocked. He hadn't thought his beloved daughter could be so course.

'I-I... I didn't realise I was being so bothersome.' He said, sounding perhaps a bit to wounded.

Octavia sighed, 'Can you just not in the kitchen. Where we eat, please?' She asked, going back to her breakfast.

Stolas sighed, picking up his now soggy bowl of serial. 'How long had I been in that state?' He asked himself.

'Five minutes' answered Octavia not looking up from her phone.

'Oh' he said to himself, taking the bowl he poured it into the trash. 'Well that's disgusting.'

He chuckled to himself. Looking over his shoulder he said 'Well, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear you won't be hearing much about Blitzø... ever again.' He told her being perhaps a little vitriolic.

Getting a cup from the cupboard, he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Walking over to Octavia he went to take a seat, but stopped upon seeing her distrustful gaze.

Taking a seat he sighed. 'Octavia, darling... I know these past few weeks haven't been easy on you. And I know much of that-" He had to stop as Octavia glared daggers at him. "...All of it, was my fault. But I promise, things will get better... for both of us.' He took her hand into his own. 'I promise.'

Octavia looked up at him, she looked so startled by his words.

It seemed like she was gonna say something, dew drops forming in the corners of her eyes.

He was about to say something when Octavia shot up and ran away.

Stolas sat there. For a long while. His conversation running over in his mind.

Taking a drink from his coffee he stood up, put his cup in the sink and left.

He found himself in his garden, perhaps the last place he still felt at home on the palace grounds.

Trying to calm himself down went about his usual grooming routine.

Trimming bushes, feeding his plants, pulling weeds and just general plant care.

And as much as his plants soothed his nerves,, he could feel his mood shifting.

The depression beganing to invade his thoughts.

He felt himself become that miserable husk that got shoved out of Blitzøs office.

He clutched his head, hunching over on the brink of tears. His thoughts became like daggers, stabbing into his thoughts.

But before he could shed a tear, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Pulling it out, he found it was a call from you.

In something of a surprised stupor, he answered the call. He tried to clear the emotion from his voice before saying 'Hello?'

'Stolas? Are you okay? You sound upset.' You asked him, concern in your voice.

'(Y/N)?! I... I'm...' he was going to tell you some fluff story, pretending he was fine and probably throwing a few lewd innuendos I'm there.

But, he choked... He just couldn't.

'No... No I'm not okay.' He told you, on the brink of tears. 'I feel like everything is broken and it's all my fault.'

You took a moment to respond, clearing your throat you said. 'Stolas... why did you sleep with Blitzø?'

Stolas was taken aback, 'P-Pardon?'

You sighed, 'Did you want to hurt your family when you chose to sleep with Blitzø?'

Bringing up it was he who made of decision to sleep with Blitzø, made his self loathing grow like a fire.

'N-No!' He told you 'I would never want to hurt my family...'

'Its alright Stolas, I know you wouldn't want to hurt them... But you slept with him for a reason Stolas, you need to know what it is.'

Stolas wasn't sure how to answer, he didn't really know the answer. He could lie, tell you it was just a spur of the moment decision, but that just wasn't true.

'I-I don't know.' He stated, more then said. 'I don't know why I did it... I just... don't know.'

He sat there for several moments, his mind going into overdrive as he thought over the question.

'Its alright Stolas, I believe you. But you need to figure it out, this is something that will haunt you until you figure it out." You told him, trying your best to be serious.

Stolas wiped his eyes, before asking you, 'why did you call (Y/n)? I... don't remember giving you my number!' He mumbled out, rubbing his eye.

You coughed, clearing your throat, 'Don't worry about that. I actually called you because, well I mean, I was wondering, if maybe you wanted to do something tomorrow?' You asked him, voice thick with bashfulness.

Stolas was really taken aback, 'You... You want to do something... With me?' He asked incredulously.

You chuckled on the other end of the phone. 'If I were there right now, Stolas, I'd probably boop you right on a nose.' You tell him through a smile.

'I'd love to do something!' Stolas practically cheered. You chuckled, before telling him 'Great, Ive already got an idea, but if youd like to do-'

Before you could finish your note, Stolas shouted, 'I'd love Too!'

Stolas quickly calmed down, before clearing his throat, 'Sorry... I mean, I'd love to do whatever you had in mind.' He said, cringing at how desperate he'd sounded.

'Good to hear' You chuckled, 'Well, there's this great wine place I know that makes the best little pizzas, and I, uh, wanted to share it with you.'

Your words sent a wave of ecstasy through his body. You not only wanted to spend time with him but actively sought him out to spend time with him.

You were everything he wished Blitzø was.

And he loved it.

He didn't need Blitzø.

He had you now.

'Of course (Y/N), It would be my pleasure to spend some time with you.' He told you, biting his lip.

He felt like a school girl with her first crush, a youthful giddiness clouded his mind.

'Oh? Well I've got tomorrow off, does that work for you? We can do it another day if your busy.' You told him, concern clear in your voice.

It was Stolas' turn to laugh at the tone in your voice.

'I don't have anything on tomorrow, so I'd love to accompany you to yor wine and pizza place. Nothing would make me happier.' He told you earnestly.

He could hear the smile in your voice, as you told him. 'Well, I'm happy to hear that. I'll send you the address later today, call me if you need any directions... I'll see you then, Stolas.'

'I...' Stolas wanted to tell you how much he loved you, just how much joy you brought him with one simple phone call.

He wanted to tell you, but didn't have the words.

As he tried to manifest the words he needed, he heard say through the phone.

'Its alright Stolas. I look forward to seeing you too.'

You told him simply, Stolas just sighed. How you always knew what he was trying to say.

'I'll see you tomorrow, My Beloved.' he told you before you hung up.

Hearing the tell tale dial tone, looking down at the phone, your image in the caller I.D. bringing a smile to his face.

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #x reader #headcanon #helluva stolas #stolas x reader #stolas #helluva boss headcanon

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razorblade180 · 3 years

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More Actor AU

The previous one <-

Ruby:Justice will be swift! Justice will be painful- *pie to the face* Ahhhh! Nora!

Nora:HAHAHAHAHA! I couldn’t resist!

xxxx

Yang:Do you think she thinks less of me?

Jaune:You and Ruby are sisters. You may fight but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care.

Yang:Yeah, Ruby...

Jaune:.....Wait are you talking about Blake?

Yang:*caught of guard* Uhhhhh

Jaune:Because why would she think less of you for choosing to act like a first responder?

.......

Ren:*outside* He has a point!

Director:Stick to the script!

xxxx

Raven:Does she have it?

Qrow:You’re going to have be a little bit more specific.

Raven:*slams hand and leans* Does. Salem. Have. The Tape?

Qrow:Tape?

Raven:Yeah the sex tape, it was in the vault.

Qrow:Whaaat? Who’s on it?

Raven:*smirks* Who isn’t on it?

Qrow:Oh shit....*downs whiskey* Tai is gonna kill me!

xxxxx

Apathy:*roaming*

Ruby:Quick, the door!

Weiss:*shakes it* They’re locked!

Yang:Let me-*trips up stairs* agh! My face!

Weiss:Yang! *snickering* Oh gods, are...are you okay?

Yang:Uuuuugggghh. Imma just lie here. Guess we die. *raise head*

Weiss:Uh oh, bloody nose. Time out.

Apathy:*shuffling backwards*

Blake:*on the ground* Imagine, asking grimm just to leave?

xxxxx

Nora:Psst camera man. Pan to Penny.

Penny:*getting make up done* Yo!

Nora:Ready to die a second time!?

Penny:Hell yeah! Gonna make the people cry twice! *puts in red contacts*

xxxxx

Cinder:*chokes Raven* I’m taking what’s mine.

Raven:Last time I checked your name isn’t Tai. So get your hands off my throat. *looks off set*

Tai:*face palming*

Yang:*red* Mom!!

Raven:Someone was thinking it.

xxxxx

Fiona:*reading lines*

Robyn:She’s very focused right now. I think she’s nervous. *grabs megaphone* Cameras go live in five minutes.

Fiona:*tearing up*

Robyn:No wait! I was lying! Please dry those tears!

Fiona:Stop stressing me out! I’m new here.

Robyn:*hugging her* Ssssshhh I’ll rehearse with you.

xxxxx

[Volume 3]

Blake:*getting first aid*

Adam:*staring at camera* Funny thing about Blake Belladonna, she hates reshoots.

Blake:Do not...

Adam:She hates them so much in fact that she’ll do whatever it takes make the first take an absolute masterpiece. Blake Belladonna however also does about half of her stunts. Good stunts too. All those flips and hand to hand, that’s just her being cool. *puts hands together* I’ve worked with her since day one. I’m in most of those actions scenes. So let me tell how insane this girl is.

Blake:Oh geez...

Adam:Ten minute ago, we’re just shooting the scene where her character and my character are fighting. The plan was I “backhand” her and she falls on the ground. Now we’re not perfect. We’ve accidentally grazed each other before. But when I tell you Blake literally just sat there and watched as my hand swung at her....

Blake:Man, I don’t know what happened! *snorting* I knew it was coming, but then the next minute I had no time to go with it.

Adam:Now normally, a sane person would yell cut, but not Blake. I’m looking at her shocked as she’s staring back mouthing “roll with it.” And against judgment, I did.

Blake:It doesn’t get more authentic than that! Plus it only stung.

Yang:Until we finished the scene! We look at you and this red mark is appearing and you’re like “yeah, Adam knocked the hell out of me.”

Adam:And now I feel bad!

Blake:Nah man, perfect scene. Way to improvise.

Yang:Blake Belladonna everyone.

xxxx

Fennec: *dies*

Corsac: Corsac no!!!

Ilia:Wait, your Corsac.

Corsac:Shit, really? Damn, read the long lines all volume.

Ilia:W..wait...*smiling* d..did switch roles? Has no caught that?

Blake:N...no? *looks around* We didn’t right?

Sun:*containg laughter* Please...please tell me we haven’t mixed the roles all season? You audition for...?

Corsec:Fennec. I’m playing Fennec right? *snickering*

Blake:I...uh..how’d we-

Corsec:I’m just fucking with you.

Blake:Oh my god! Dude, I thought we messed up so much shit! My heart!

Crew:*laughing*

Blake:Y’all are jerks. I type the credits don’t scare me like that!

xxxxx

Ghira:*tears cloak off*

Tyrian and Salem: Dayuuuuuum! Look at that man!

Ghira:Pfft, god damn it. You ruined my roar! Hahaha.

xxxxx

Director:Alright Jaune. So in this scene you punch the wall because you just learned about Salem being immortal. Remember to hit hard enough get a good bang for the mic, but we don’t want you breaking your hand or anything.

Jaune:Got it!

Director:And action!

Jaune:*cracks wall*

Everyone:......

Jaune:......

Nora:Welp, he didn’t say anything about breaking the wall.

xxxxxx

Cinder:*holding sister* Diva in the building yall. Introducing mini me.

Ember:I get paid!

Cinder:Yeah you do!

Everyone:(The resemblance is uncanny.)

xxxxxx

Interviewer: Has it feel to work with distinguished talents like Tyrian.

Mercury:There isn’t a moment that man lets me rest. I could have one scene and that guy is offset staring at me and shimming or wearing a prop just throw me off-he’s doing it now! *smiles*

Tyrian:*in Salem’s costume* I don’t know what you mean Mercury? Are you...*props leg up* distracted?

Mercury:Serious doesn’t exist with that man on set.

xxxxx

Interview:Adam, how’s it feel to be the most hated character.

Adam:It’s hilarious. I go the store to get a coffee and the cashier is doing a double take as they stare at me wearing a shirt with Pumpkin Pete on it. Before they process who I am exactly I’m just like, “please tell me you have pumpkin spice?” And their perception is ruined immediately.

Interviewer:Ever get hate at events.

Adam:Oh it’s a game now! Not by my choice. This was Yang’s idea.

Yang:*pokes in* Y’all talking about the game where I make people upset? *sits in his lap* excuse me.

Adam:Against my will...*snickers* anytime I go to a convention with Yang, she enters the room from the opposite door and let the people gather to her while haters gather to me.

Yang:By the time I reach him I see about a dozen people glaring at him while my fans are following me until I get where I need to go. Right before I do, I walk up to Adam as if I didn’t know he’d be there, then jump into his arms happily. Everyone shuts up. They don’t know how to cope.

Adam:That’s with almost any hero in this show. I’m minding my own business and then they cling to me for shock value. Yang and Blake are the worst though.

Yang:I’ve sat in his lap like I am now at a Q&A before because people booed when he showed up. The beef isn’t real people! My arm is fine!

xxxxx

Jaune:*staring at Pyrrha’s statue*.....

*foot steps approach*

Jaune:*looks left* !?

Pyrrha:*holding flowers* A tragedy, this person’s death. You knew them?

Jaune:I...y...no. Just heard of her.

Pyrrha:Really? Cool. Reall strong person. Her people were heartbroken when she chose Beacon. But it was the place she dreamed of. Ashamed she died. Gone, never to be seen.

Jaune:She may be gone, but I know she had no regrets. Pyrrha was a huntress through and through, and I believe she fought like one until the end.

Pyrrha:*nods* Yeah, I think so too. *containg joy*

.........

Pyrrha:This isn’t the real scene by the way.

Jaune:I was about to say! Like, what the hell is happening!? I read the script and missed this part!

Pyrrha:Hahahaha! Good improvising. *claps* way to roll with the nonsense. I can’t believe you said no though! That’s how you get haunted.

Jaune:*laughing* I thought I was! Ghost Pyrrha walking with flowers saying “oh you know her?” I thought I did until you showed up!

Ren:We just shoot random scenes of you talking to Pyrrha and never address it. Jaune is just crazy now.

Pyrrha:I’m down for that!

Director:No! Well....no! Stop trying to get more lines!

Pyrrha:Awww.

xxxxxx

Ozpin:You know originally I brought my kid here so we can bond and he was like “awesome!”

Cameraman pans over to Oscar and Penny sitting on a bench eating together, laughing.

Ozpin:*smirking* I was played, but I respect it.

xxxxxx

[Volume 6]

Jaune:*walks up to Ruby* Promise that you’ll meet us there.

Ruby:I promise. *smiles*

..... *both lean in*

Ruby:......*kisses him*

Everyone:!?!?

Nora:Woah! Cut!

Ruby:Huh? What’s up?

Nora:There’s no kiss!

Ruby:Really? Feels like a kiss should be here. Huh, my bad. Thought it was written in.

xxxxxx

Ruby:*posed up in chair* They had to cut out me kissing Jaune. That’s fine, still kissed him.

xxxxxx

Nora:All I’m saying is maybe I should get a kiss with him.

Director:Nora, just ask him out on your own time.

Nora:Pffft what? Me, into Jaune? No..... I just think it would make good narrative sense.

Director:How!?

Nora:......*walks away* It just would!

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bakatenshii · 4 years

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Flushed

Dabi x Reader (BNHA)

word count: 5.1k

TW: 18+, smut, dub/noncon, drug use/abuse, corruption, virginity, (mild) blood

A/N: I am 12 days late for Sunny’s birthday, but my heart beats for one person and one person only— the light of my life, my wife @blahkugo, who wrote me two (2!!) Shig fics for my bday Charity & Sludge, that I reread on the daily like the morning news. Cheeky shoutout to @thisisthehardestthing for writing one iconic sentence in here that I would have framed if I could.

flushed

/fləSHt/

(of a person's skin) red and hot, typically as the result of illness or strong emotion.

cleanse (something) by causing large quantities of water to pass through it.

Dabi doesn’t prowl for prey, he’s not on the lookout for fowl to take home for dinner. No, they come to him. It’s easy, always so obvious, he plucks them out like chicken in a hen house, ripe for breeding.

It wasn’t hard to spot a desperate girl burning out, Hell, the campus’ full of them. But you had something more, something fun, something that made his lips quirk up and his dick twitch— you were uncorrupted.

He can just tell, despite the airs you try to give, the aura of a virgin’s akin to an omega in heat to a starving alpha. Sweet, honeysuckle, the tiny flinches when a man gets too close, the breathy lilt in your voice when they propose something too risque; he inhales it all, commits it all to memory like you were desperately trying to do as you chewed on the tip of your pen and scratched out lines on the book in front of you.

He didn’t need to push, you were already teetering the line, but he did it anyways— because it was fun.

It was elating to watch you stumble into class the next day, eyes dark with sleepless anxiety, misery painted into every crevice of your features while your notes were tucked neatly into the drawer in his room. Really, you shouldn’t have left them so open on the lecture hall table, it’s like inviting a robber home and cooking him a three course meal.

Finals season marked the end of your social life, and the beginning of Dabi’s career. It was almost boring, the repetitive nature of his job; too easy, too simple, a mockery of the entitled bookworms who look down on scummy repeaters like him. But the entitlement is what fuels him, over-achievers fearing for two simple digits on a crumpled sheet of paper as if it’s worse than death itself.

He thrives off of their stubbornness to accept anything below perfect; the hilarity of it all, the irony that their insurance to achieve higher standards than that of a scum like him only fuels his lifestyle, bringing him deeper down the depths of degeneracy.

He sat behind you closer than usual, spoke a lil louder than usual, dropped in the most nonchalant comment about a study drug kids are crazing over these days. He watched as you flinched, hands stopped moving to listen in to the spiel he was spewing, the fishing hook he was dangling in front of you.

A magic pill, one that’ll help you concentrate, kill any sleepiness, get you buzzed for hours on end— best of all, it’s totally legal, he gets it from a pharmacist, scout’s honour.

That’s what he told you when you turned around to him at the end of class, whispering in hushed fear, nerves bouncing off your skin in goosebumps on your exposed arms.

Why he’s selling it? Because he needs some extra cash, he said. He knew you didn’t believe him, but he knew you were desperate enough not to care.

When you met him in the dead of night at the empty carpark of his building, he knew he’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. No self-respecting girl would meet bottom-barrel trash like him in a deserted location at half three in the morning, no, you were untainted, but you weren’t pure.

He didn’t need to know it worked, doesn’t matter what your test results reflected, all that mattered was that you came back to him a few weeks later, met him at the same dingy carpark, hands trembling slightly less this time.

He pretended to scold you, reveled in the way your lips curled into a soft pout, and warned you that tolerance builds fast. Do it in moderation, he had said— he’s the world’s biggest hypocrite.

You came to him only a week later this time, and Dabi had pretended to be shocked. He wasn’t, he gave you a lower dosage the last time, there was no way you’d have been satisfied. Microdosing leads the unsuspecting to addiction, the one fact he learned from school. He lectured you, asked you if you’d built up tolerance too fast, if you wanted to try something different?

He watched as your eyes lit up, pupils dilating in excitement at the promise of something different, something better. It really was too easy. You were too easy.

That night he invited himself over to yours, said he’d wanted to make sure you didn’t have any side effects. It was new, after all, and it was stronger. He’d sit there and be quiet, he promised; it was all out of the kindness of his own heart.

It was almost embarrassing how eagerly you’d lie to yourself in hopes of a better grade.

Dabi wasn’t gonna do anything to you that night, trust takes time to build up after all. Besides, it’s no fun to pounce on the prey before they started running. You studied the nonsensical scribbling on annotated novels, he studied your tiny movements, twitches, nervous habits; etched them into his brain for future use.

A too-long breath, a gasp, a clench of the fist signaled your come-up. He timed it, approximately thirty-five minutes for the initial peak, then smaller spikes at half hour intervals, totaling in four hours before you came down. Impressive, still, considering he’d given you the same dosage as the first time.

He stuck to his words, staying quiet only until prompted, offered you water every once in a while, really, he deserved an Oscar for playing the best supporting dealer. It only took two more sessions before your tolerance peaked again, calculated and timed to perfection right before the next assignment.

The beauty of seeking out an English major was that they’re always searching, reaching into the void for any type of inspiration to translate into eloquently formed words. The beauty of seeking out you, was that you were already in too deep, hooked by the lil pills and plunged into the bottom of the ocean.

Your grades rose while your inhibitions sank, a dramatic irony, isn’t that what they called it?

It’s cute, really, he only had to give you a nudge this time. Asked you how your assignment was going, played the sympathetic friend, and offered you something completely new, completely different. ‘Have you ever tried 2CB?’

Silly question, rhetorical, almost; of course you hadn’t. Innocent sweet girl like you never would’ve even touched weed, much less a hallucinogen. But he poses it to you in an eager tone like he’s genuinely waiting on an answer, like this isn’t just one big game to him. He laughed when you said no, asked him what it was— do you want him to show you?

You trust him, don’t you? He’s helped you through your exams, supported you through your assignments, honestly, he deserved a pat on the back. Don’t tell him you didn’t trust him, come on now, that’d break his heart.

He didn’t expect you to put up a fight, but you gave in almost too easily, guess those lil pills really did migrate and nest in your bloodstream.

The safety of your own dorm room was always granted to you, a faux-sense of security to veil you in, shield you from the true depth of depravity you’ve sunken to. He held you underwater in a net, ensuring you that he’d pull you up whenever— ‘just say the word.’

The net had long been cut, he’d admired the way you’d comforted down there, paddling aimlessly in hopeful conviction.

It’s become routine, almost. Dabi lets himself in easily, settles into the couch across your desk, pulls out a baggy and passes it to you. “A psychedelic,” he explains, “you’ll see colours you’d never seen, find beauty in everything, an artist’s best friend,” if he does say so himself.

He watches you pop the lil pill in your mouth, follow the stream of water pour down your throat, traveling the rips and divots of your tongue, before it drops down your throat into your bloodstream with a bob of your larynx. You’re so pliant, so obedient, he reminds himself to thank your parents for grooming such a cute lil doll.

You let out a loud gasp an hour and a half later, and he watches your fingers curl into themselves; and for the first time he speaks unprompted.

“You good?” It’s almost genuine; the curiosity, at least. He wants to know how articulate you are, needs to know how deeply submerged your consciousness has become.

He watches as you meet his gaze, little tongue dashing out to wet your lips, and nods once, twice, slowly. You shake your head almost immediately after, croaking out an, “I feel ill,” before pushing meekly at your desk to stand your body up. Cute, weak.

Just how he likes them.

He reaches an arm out to you, pulling you into his chest easily and nests your head into the crook of his neck. “Nauseous, aren’t you?” You nod, and he smirks. “Don’t worry princess, it’s just a rough come-up. I’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

It’s almost believable, how sickly sweet he sounds. Too many sitcoms accumulated in recycled dialogues to woo girls in any situation; mix and match, simple yet effective.

He can feel the restless rise and fall of your chest pressing against his, short quick pants as if gasping for air, a small hand scraping at his arm; yeah, you’re definitely coming up.

He picks you up and nestles you into your own couch, so easily as if handling a ragdoll, then walks to the kitchen and pours you some water. The perfect friend, the perfect support, the perfect dealer. You’re so vulnerable, so exposed, you don’t even know it; it makes his brain fog over with carnal desire to pounce— but he doesn’t. Not yet.

He lays back on the couch with you, arm snaking around your shoulder to coax you into a subdued euphoria. All the words he’s garnered throughout the years of fishing for his next meal come bubbling out so naturally in practiced scripts, “It’s okay princess, it’s a stronger pill. It’ll make you feel better, I promise.” He’s promising a whole lot, tonight.

“Hey,” he tips your face to meet his with all the tenderness of a lion stalking its prey, “I’m here, right? You trust me, don’t you? I’ve never let you down. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

It’s hard to force down the gagging noise on cue with his disgustingly fake, rom-com lines, but the way he can feel your body loosen, relax, and mold into his tells him he’s close. So close.

This is the best part, this is what he’s good at; the last stretch of patience while stalking his prey, with footsteps so light, treading so carefully, until the air slows down around him and he can taste your scent wafting through the air.

It happens in an instant, a whole-body jolt as you tense up, euphoria announced with a sharp gasp. The smile that crawls up his face is nothing short of sinister, predatory, but he knows you don’t notice. You can’t. Your eyes are strewn shut, basking in the high, and he takes the moment to swallow the pill he’s held under his tongue.

It’s no fun to tripsit, he doesn’t get anything out of that, and Dabi doesn’t do things for free. He feels your head fall back onto his shoulder, short breaths warming a ripple of goosebumps up his neck, and watches as you push your heavy lids open to gaze at the ceiling.

He can feel your giggles reverberating through his chest before he hears them, innocent, pure, unsuspecting. He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, because virtuous girls like you like to be treasured, made to feel special, safe— he can make you feel safe; no one’s told him not to play with his food before he eats it.

He watches as you flutter your eyelids at him, sigh into his touch, really, you’re the textbook prototype, he doesn’t even need to adjust his tactics. “You feelin’ good?” A hot breath into your ear, and he revels in the way your lips pout to let out a soft sigh.

Funny how differently you react when you’re high out of your mind, maybe it’s the drug, or maybe it’s just Dabi? You’ve always wanted a bad boy like him, didn’t you? Good girls like bad guys; it’s textbook cliché, and you’re the blueprint.

He doesn’t wait on an answer, he knows it: you’re feeling good, great— divine. He’ll be right there with you soon, he promises.

“Tell me what you see, princess,” Dabi’s not listening when a cascade of nonsensical descriptions come bubbling out, he doesn’t care. It’s all to get you to keep talking, shift your attention elsewhere while his hand slithers down your arm to play with the hem of your shirt.

At the first brush of his finger on the bare skin of your waist, he feels you purr into him, eyes rolling back in bliss. It’s his cue to give you more, invitation for him to snake his other hand up your naked thigh and knead the flesh gently.

Gentle does it, he’ll bring you higher as you go.

He ghosts a breath just under your ear, nipping at your lobe, and admires the full body shiver tumbling through. Moans, loud and needy, come panting out past your lips and echoes off the walls before bouncing back to him. He lets you symphonize short breaths and whiney pleas with each lick and suck traveling down your neck, painting blooms of purple and red as his hand travels dangerously high.

A firm grip is all the warning he gives you before he tucks his fingers into the crease of your thigh, laughing almost at how obediently you spread your legs. What happened to that pure, innocent girl? Guess under all that laid a dirty whore, just like the rest of ‘em.

It was slick, so wet, pussy dripping past the delicate lace and drooling over his fingers. Lace, befitting of a slut who lured him in with the fake charms of a virgin. He slides a finger down your slit, gathering up all the juices before presenting it to you.

“What do you see?” He holds up his finger, slick dripping down like syrup, and watches your pupils dilate in effort to focus. He can see the way your lips part, string of saliva connecting the two soft molds, before gasping out, “melting ice cream.”

“Want a taste?”

You clamp over his finger before he even asks you to, sucks on the digit like it’s a melting ice lolly, before your eyes shoot open and mouth twists in disgust. Of course it doesn’t taste nice, normal food isn’t even edible when you’re rolling like this. You’re sticking your tongue out, in an attempt to air out the taste, or maybe you’re just a dumb dog, a dumb bitch, he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care.

The same hand, now slick with saliva, grips your chin and crashes your lips into his. His tongue finds yours first, tip licking up the crevice of yours lolling out, and he sucks it into his mouth like it’s a crime for it to be kissing the air.

There’s no modesty, no gentleness, his tongue pries your lips open, and he feels the weakest form of resistance before he’s thrusting the muscle down your throat. He lapping over the back of your teeth, traces over each bump and rugae on the gummy sides, and snickers at your shit attempt to kiss him back with your slack mouth drooling out the corners.

He feels a pawing at his arm— your hand meekly grabbing at the sleeve of his shirt to bring him in closer, press his chest into your soft tits, crowd him into you more, more, more.

It’s cute; it’s stupidly desperate.

He gets it though, it’s no worries. Human nature is all it is; the desire to climb higher and higher— he wonders if he can get one out of you before the pill hits him.

There’s no gentleness in the way his hand slots between your legs and cups your dripping cunt this time. He wishes he has more time to admire the way your legs quiver and twitch with every firm pat against your clit, but he’s on a time crunch. There’s so much time to spare, he can play with it all he wants later.

He can feel your needy moan vibrate through his lips and reverberate straight into his brain, sloppy mouths working simultaneously together and against each other as he rips your panties and shorts off in one go. Any self respecting girl would shut their legs in shame, in embarrassment, any attempt to protect their dignity, but you don’t. He doesn’t let you, anyways.

A hand moves under your shirt to roughly grip at your tits in the same breath he sinks a finger into your sopping hole. Inhale; squeeze, thrust, exhale— you moan. It’s tight, as tight as a virgin pussy should be, but not too tight that it fights against the foreign digit ramming into it at a relentless pace too rough and quick to befit an unexplored hole.

He can feel the pulsing around him, gummy walls milking his finger for all its worth, and he digs his palm into your swollen bud; it’s all he needed for you to come undone. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream, the 2CB in your system rendering you incapable of anything except long breathy sobs of his name.

His finger pops out with a wet squelch, and he brings it to his mouth to taste it; tarty, thick— he’s still sober. You’re blubbering out drivel about the stars you saw, the colours swirling around at the peak of your euphoria, you think you saw God— is Dabi God?

Dabi had to laugh, pat you on the head with his hand covered in syrupy slick, watch it leak and clump your strands of hair. He picks you up with your shorts and panties drenched through dangling at your ankles, and walks you to your bed.

You don’t notice, still basking in the afterglow; he knows this. Not that you’d push him off, tell him to stop. Not in your state anyways. You couldn’t even if you wanted to.

He drops you once the bed’s in frame at the same time he feels his pulse rise, heart palpitate, and a wave of nausea threatens to bubble over. It doesn’t; he doesn’t let it. An experienced veteran would never. It’s a welcomed sensation, one he’s all too familiar with, and he gives himself a brief minute to breathe it in, savour it, before glancing back down at your limp body on the bed.

Is it your body? He can trace your silhouette from the dip of your waist, the full of your hips, something glistening, gleaming in the light— your pretty little virgin cunt. His eyes roll back at the next inhale before he finds himself landing on the bed on top of you, forearms digging into the soft mattress of your bed.

He hears your voice singing into his brain, soft lulls of his name stringing out in DabiDabiDabi— the desperation and need shooting straight to his cock, he doesn’t even need to look down at your soft pliant body, welcoming him, inviting him in.

“Feels good, yeah?” His voice comes out rougher than usual, low and strained, and laughs at how eagerly you nod, watches your chin catch the air and paint strokes of colour following the route it takes, “Who makes you feel this good?”

He knows, he knows because it’s all you’ve been able to say the past while, the only word on your mind that you can even blubber out—

“You, Dabi,” your pants grow heavier; his pants grow tighter, “it’s you Dabi, please—“

A hand reaches up to cradle his cheek, your soft, uncalloused, hand, and he grips it by the wrist before bringing it up to his face. He traces every line that curves and meets on your palm with his tongue, letting it be covered entirely with drool before wrenching it down under his joggers and into his boxers to cup his aching erection.

His hips rut into your palm almost immediately as a knee-jerk reaction, every hump into your tiny hand has him panting into your face, sweat beading at his temples. His tongue drops down to lick at your lips, asking for entrance, begging for access. Your lips might’ve parted just a fraction, maybe just to let out a breathe, but Dabi takes it as permission to thrust his tongue in and prod at your dormant one.

He can feel you gag at the sudden intrusion, throat convulsing to push back the unfamiliar slimy muscle, and he briefly considers yanking your hand out and shoving his cock down that pretty little mouth of yours.

But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t have the patience. He needs it urgently, needs your tight virgin cunny stretching and agonizing over his overbearing size, needs to feel the flutter of the gummy walls with each thrust; he needs it bad, he needs it now—

Your hand is wrenched away as he yanks both waistbands down to his thighs. He looks at you, eyes blurring through kaleidoscopic vision, and makes out your disoriented gaze staring back at him. Disoriented with toxins, disoriented with need, lust, desperation— a hand reaches behind Dabi’s neck and pulls him back down to crash bruised lips together.

It’s all the invitation he needs, not that he needs it, no, what he needs is to sink his painfully hard cock into that sweet, sweet cunt of yours. There’s a faint squealing coming from underneath him, and he thinks he can feel nails digging crescents into his nape, but all he can feel is your warm, wet walls clenching around him.

There was no need to prepare you for any longer, there’s no point if he doesn’t stretch your virgin pussy out with his own cock; it’s wasted on fingers, his fingers don’t deserve to feel the way you walls quiver and contract around it. The pitched cries stop eventually as he feels your body go pliant and soft, and he has half a mind to realize you’re probably starting to come down soon.

He doesn’t wanna deal with that, you won’t be sober for another few hours, but you’ve peaked already, and not with him; that’s not fair, that’s no fun. His cock stills inside you with half still unsheathed and he reaches down into his pocket to take out a baggy of powder. There’s a spoon in, thank fuck, and he feeds a small bump right up to your nose.

“Inhale,” he slots it right up your nostril, “it’ll make you feel good, didn’t you feel good?” Your head lowers to nod, bumps the edge of the spoon right into the cartilage of your nose, and inhale. Good girl.

The baggy is tossed haphazardly before he’s working his dick into you again, cockhead pushing through the doughy walls in search of that pocket at the end of your pussy.

You don’t struggle anymore, instead clinging onto his shoulders and carving half-moons into the flesh. It hurts a lil, and Dabi doesn’t like it when it hurts, not when he’s the one hurting.

He snatches your hands off him and pushes them above your head, into the plush forgiving mattress. His teeth are back on your neck, biting over the ripples of purple and green and red and blue, reveling in your cries and moans that come out in symphonies.

It feels good, great— divine, it’s what he deserves for bringing you to Nirvana. He’s basically your muse, after all, how can you truly describe rapture without experiencing it first?

He can hear your moans ringing out from underneath, can see them traveling in the air in hues of reds and pinks and reds and reds— there’s red on your bedsheets, of course there is. He forgot that’s what comes with a virgin cunt; blood, mixing with the translucent coating his cock, dripping down and painting the crisp white sheet red, drifting into the air and congesting the whole room with red.

He inhales the colour, sucks it into his lungs, and uses it to fuel the pistoning of his hips. Your breaths turn to pants, turns to sobs of his name leaving your lips again, and he thinks you look good, so good, taking his cock like this. You should thank him for bringing you to your second orgasm.

Just look at you, crazy isn’t it? Crazy what a lil pill can do. But he’s got something better, something so much better, something that’ll bring you to a new dimension. You want that, don’t you? C’mon don’t be shy, Dabi will bring you right there, don’t you worry.

There’s still the faint cries from your orgasm when he flips you over and pushes your face into the untainted sheets. He watches as your hands sprawl up to grip and grasp at something, anything, and his hands ease up on the hold on your skull for a second to let you wheeze and greedily gasp for air.

He flickers a trail of blue down your back, watches the flames dance and rage in a mirage, every bouquet indented by the ligament of each tender rib, and there’s a faint scream. The pitch rises with the flames, taunting it to go higher, faster, paint murals in every swell of your back until he can’t see anything except ash coal char.

Dabi blinks, squints his eyes as he throws his head back to focus on the paint chipping on the ceiling. It cracks and crinkles, shying away from his pointed glare, before he sucks in a deep breath and looks back down at you.

There’s no ash, no char, only warm tanned flesh, pressed flush against the pristine white sheets underneath. It burns against the pads of his long fingers splayed out across your back, and he winces in annoyance at the irony.

You don’t seem to notice his pause, too fucked out or fucked up to register what’s going around you probably. A mixture of both; Dabi can’t really remember what he’s given you or how long he’s been there.

He can’t decide if he wants to stay there anymore, can’t make out the pros and cons of either. He counts them off with each painful yank of your hair, each harsh thrust into your abused virgin cunt— it was that, wasn’t it?

He was there because he sniffed out a cute lil virgin, one so untainted and untouched, one begging for him to corrupt. He’s not known to be very generous, but sometimes he gets into one of those moods; it can’t be helped when there’s a desperate doll waiting to be torn apart.

He knows what you want, can read you with his eyes closed— you don’t need eyes to feel the pulse of a greedy cunny; it clenches with every slap of the face, damn near clamps down entirely as his slender fingers slither around to the front of your throat.

Two fingers shove past your lolling tongue and yanks your head back by the digits hooked on the corner of your mouth. There’s drool, and spit, and so many fluids coming and entering all at once— and then you’re coming, again, probably, for the third time that night. Fourth?

It’s methodical, straightforward, he reads the instruction manual once, maybe twice if the first one’s a bit faulty, and he’s got it down to muscle memory.

At the sound of heaving he looks back down again, admires the feel of two of his fingertips fucked straight into the back of your throat, and pushes down on the rugged gummy wall. You gag, and he laughs. It’s cute, so cute, you’re real cute, you know?

“Such a good lil whore aren’t you?” He digs his nails into the flesh of your hip and rams his cockhead until he can feel the kiss from your puckered cervix. “All fucked out of your mind, bet you can’t even hear me, can you?”

He watches as you gurgle out words past his fingers wedged down your slack mouth, and choke on the pools of saliva drooling out. It’s the funniest sight, fascinates him to death, really.

A slap to the face might bring you out of your daze, so he slips his hand back out of your sloppy mouth and revels at your body propelling forward straight into the headboard. He grasps at the tips of your hair and wrench your body back towards him before any satisfying impact could sound out. It’s a shame, but concussions are not in his agenda.

“Been fucked so loose, filthy slut can’t even keep your body up,” he rolls your hair around his hands and yanks back until your skull meets his chin; it’s excruciatingly painful, probably, and that’s why it’s the best.

It’s the perfect way for your mouth to fall open naturally, to scream, squeal, fluster around in attempt to be freed from the position— it creates the perfect hole for him to spit in. He watches as your face contorts in disgust, tongue pushed out to let his spit drool out the sides, but that’s no fun, not very nice of you, is it?

“Swallow,” he assists you with an extra hard thrust, and you choke on the moan coming out. His hand comes forward from your hip to rest under your chin before pushing it up so it clamps shut, “I said, swallow.”

Your eyes flood with tears that waterfall down your face, and God, he thinks you look the best like this— wrecked on his cock, body littered in purple and red, covered in sweat and blood and cum; his perfect lil cocksleeve, just for him.

It’s emotional, almost— religious, even, he can feel the palpitations in his heart thumping against his chest echoing off the headboard banging against the wall, and lets the euphoria consume him, wash over him as he coats your walls with hot ropes of cream and white, hips stuttering with your greedy cunny fluttering and clenching around it, milking and sucking in his cock in deeper, deeper, more.

He thinks you might’ve cum, might still be cumming, but all he can hear is the Messiah calling for him, choir singing lulling him into an infinite jubilation; he closes his eyes to bathe in it, let himself be cleansed and washed over with ecstasy.

When he pulls out, your body flops onto the mattress, and he watches as white dribbles out your quivering hole, mixing with the red on the sheets, creating a puddle of pink and magenta, before passing out in the fuschia.

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smol-and-grumpy · 3 years

Text

Legally Yours - Ch. 01 (Prologue)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: None. Maybe the end will get your heart racing.

WC: 1796

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Buy me a coffee

Y/N’s sitting at her desk as she types an answer to the inquiry from a customer, when her friend Donna practically slams a glamour magazine over her keyboard.

“Have you seen this?” The blond woman asks.

“Jesus, Donna! I haven’t saved that document yet! God!” She picks the magazine up and tosses it to the side as she continues to finish the document on her screen.

Donna’s still waiting, staring at her and she wonders if that woman has nothing else to do. Y/N’s sure Donna has plenty to do, they always have a lot of work and that’s why she gets home so late and sometimes, Liv would already be asleep. Sometimes, when she’s lucky, Liv was awake and she’d read her a bedtime story of princesses who are rescued by a heroic prince.

As soon as Y/N is finished, she turns around in her chair, to see her friend still staring at her instead of doing her own work.

“What is it?” She asked with that added annoyed nuance to her tone of voice.

“Look!” Donna lifts her chin to point towards the magazine she slammed in front of Y/N just a moment before, “Have you seen it?”

Turning back around to her desk, she picks it up, “Donna, I’m not reading those mags, so no, I haven’t seen it. Why?”

Instead of answering her, Donna only grins. The grin that shows her dimples. The wicked one, “Page twenty-six,”

With raised eyebrows and that little spark of curiosity which Donna had added to her interest, Y/N rifles through the pages until she reaches page twenty-six.

There’s a picture of a man who stares right at her. He’s wearing a perfect suit. His one hand fakes the adjusting of his cufflink on his wrist. It’s a total male model pose. Well, he looks like one, so she can’t really say that anything’s out of the ordinary.

At a second glance, though, she realizes that he looks familiar. His face is a little scruffy, but that makes him look edgier, makes him look more handsome. He’s smiling bright, showing his perfect white teeth. There are crinkles around his emerald eyes, seven on his right side, and she knows she shouldn’t even be counting them, so she ignores his left side. And she definitely can’t help but notice the freckles across his face.

Oh, she thinks.

Oooohhhh.

“Is that..?” She asks with a frown that gets deeper between her eyebrows because she’s just not sure? She hasn’t seen the man that many times in real life.

“Ya! Our fucking boss! The icy King!” Donna shouts, “Isn’t he dreamy? My god, I wanna eat him up! And he doesn’t look as icy and distant like he always does,”

“Donna!”

“What? Only telling the truth here! Read what the headline says!”

Her friend is right, though, Mr. Winchester’s normal aloof and cold persona isn’t captured in the picture. He’s known to be the icy King in the company. Instead, he looks kind of welcoming and warm. Y/N eyes go to the top of the page, and she can’t lie, it’s hard to concentrate on the writing when there’s a good looking man staring her down.

The headline is in all caps.

DEAN WINCHESTER, HOTTEST ENTREPRENEUR 2020

She frowns, as her eyes leave the magazine to look back at her friend, “That’s what you wanted to show me?”

“Duh! There’s also a whole article about him being the center of attention everywhere he goes,”

“Well, that’s not really surprising, is it? Looking like that?”

“It also says that he has a fiancée.”

“That’s also not surprising,” Y/N shrugs, “I mean, seriously, look at him. Who wouldn’t want to marry that?” She didn't. At least not when they say that he’s cold-hearted. But again, she’s not the norm here because every female is gushing about him.

She closes the magazine loudly, deciding that she shouldn’t waste more time. She wants to get home on time today. Liv went on a field trip with her school and she wants to hear her little girl telling her about how exciting it was. Y/N still has a lot of work to do and also a meeting with her supervisor later. The sleazebag.

“So, can I go back to work?” She turns to Donna, “I have a meeting with Raphael in about twenty minutes.”

“Ew,” Donna cringes her nose.

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Exactly,”

“Will you tell him off?”

“I already did,” She sighs, “Multiple times,”

“Why don’t you just go to HR?”

Donna knows what happens. What always happens when she has a meeting with Raphael. He’s always trying things with her. Accidentally brushes his hand against her breast or her ass. He once told her to sit in his lap as he was showing her the numbers of her performance. It wasn’t the first time he suggested it, and she doubts that it will be the last time either. He tried to kiss her more than once, but knowing that they are in an office environment, he didn’t dare to force her too much. He also offers to drive her home almost every week, and she’s slowly getting tired of it, not to mention creeped out.

At their last meeting, he made her hang up a picture frame in his office. His hand rested on her hips to supposedly support her, but they traveled further down until he kneaded her ass in his palms. She immediately got down from there, and left the room wordlessly.

She knows another secret about Raphael, though. One she could use against him, but she just doesn’t know how just yet. Y/N knows and has got proof that he’s been skimming money. He takes it out of the customer’s account. Not a lot, a small sum that customers wouldn’t notice is missing, but in the end, it’s probably a whole lot when he does it to all the customers he’s supposed to look after.

Again, she can’t really bring that up because she’s sure that he’ll spin it around and Raphael is good at that. With a push on the button of his keyboard, he could reverse everything and she knows that.

“I can’t go to HR,” Y/N lowers her head and mumbles to her friend, “Because they won’t believe me,”

And that’s the truth too. The Head of HR is Duma, a woman who occasionally fucks Raphael. They have a friend with benefits thing going on, even if she’s married with children. Duma will never believe her because Y/N’s sure that Raphael can spin this perfectly to fit his narrative.

Besides, what can she possibly tell? It’s her against him. It’s like a mouse against an elephant. She’s only an accountant and is replaceable, whereas Raphael is a member of the leadership team. And who will be let go? She doesn’t think it’s going to be him and she needs the job to survive.

Y/N watches as Donna’s lips start to curl up, the white teeth of the woman are visible, as she drums her fingers annoyingly on her own desk.

With a frown, she asks her friend, “What?”

“I have an idea,” Donna says and pulls up her outlook calendar.

She types in something, and then a calendar appears with a lot of colorful blocks.

Oh no. She has quite the idea of who’s calendar it is even if she can’t read the name from where she’s sitting, which is too far away because she doesn’t want to give the impression that she’s not working. And it’s stupid that they can do that. They have quite an open calendar policy at the office. Everyone can send and block meetings for everyone, even for the icy King.

“Donna, no!”

“Why, Donna, yes!” Her friend grins, “He has an open window right now. The meeting in the boardroom is in ten minutes. You should go tell him what you know. If someone can change anything, it’s him, right?”

Donna’s not wrong, she isn’t. But Mr. Winchester is what? At least four tiers above her if not five. Why should he care what a simple worker in his company is thinking? Why should he care what the hell she goes through every day while he earns enough profit to fuel his expensive and glamorous lifestyle?

“He wouldn’t believe me,” She shakes her head.

“You can tell him about the money skimming, I bet he won’t be happy to hear that.”

“Ugh,”

Donna stands up and walks over to her, braces her hands on the chair Y/N’s sitting on, “What’s the worst that could happen, huh?”

“That I get fired?”

“Meh,” Donna squeaked, “I doubt that. You’re doing a great job. Your records are great. And besides, if they do that, you can go and file a lawsuit against them. Besides, who knows, if you go to HR, Raphael will fire you before the icy King does.”

True, but still.

“Now go get your ass up to the executive floor. Maybe take him a coffee, I heard he likes it black,”

“Oh, just like his heart?”

“Ya, maybe I wouldn’t tell him that?” Donna chuckles.

Y/N’s on her way to the elevators. She can’t believe that she’s really doing it. But Donna’s right. She can’t go on and live like that. It’s already hard to part from her child every morning and to get bullied at her job and being sexually harassed should not be the norm. She just fucking wants to earn enough money to keep her kid and herself above water.

God, she’s really doing it!

Fuck.

There are six elevators lined up in the foyer. Three on each side. Only one goes up to the executive floor and also one is reserved for Mr. Winchester’s penthouse on the top floor. Everybody knows that.

To get the elevator to run up to the executive floor, Y/N would need to have a card with a chip, which she doesn’t, and she feels stupid to have just realized it. And now she’s standing here, lost, with a hot black coffee in a lidless plastic cup that almost burns her fingers off.

Ugh.

She’s so fucking stupid.

Well, she could still try, couldn’t she? She jumped over her own fear and has come this far. She definitely shouldn’t give up now.

Her finger hovers over the buttons. Closing her eyes and exhaling loudly, she gives the button a push. Standing back, she waits, her heart is drumming loudly against her ribcage.

And she doesn’t even have to wait long because not even thirty seconds later, the elevator dings and opens up to reveal a man in a nice suit staring back at her.

It’s him.

Ch. 02

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#legally yours #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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jonnnysuh · 3 years

Text

could we get along with svt in real life?

A collaborative series by @vernonsnostrils and me (Nala)!

A/N: Lately Bee and I have been doing daily rankings for fun and we decided to share our very very specific and dumb insights with all of you. For this one we're ranking who we think could tolerate us......... <3 Warning: Dumb info ahead

NALA:

13.Wonwoo – looks scary. I also have a rbf so imagine us together omg. Everyone would think we’re vampires. No one would want to be friends with us so we’d only have each other.

12.Woozi – I feel like I know nothing about him :-( He’s an amazing musician, and does come off as a little tiny bit mischievous. I feel like Woozi is the type of guy I have every class with but then we graduate never saying a word to each other.

11. Jun – I think Jun is funny as hell but he’s so quiet. I’d want to be his friend but I wouldn’t know how to approach him. Everyone loves him tho so he has his pick of friends and it does not include me LMAO

10. Jeonghan – (this one kind of doesn't make sense bc he should be higher on the list,, but also?? i'm the one who made this list so fite me) but I think that me and him are pretty similar. We both have a side that’s devious and wants to create havoc but we’re also the mom friend that takes care of everyone and with that I feel like we’d butt heads/ be the designated parents which is EW I am 20 years old,, I'm no one's mommy YUCK.

9. Joshua – he’s also quiet but I know he has a good sense of humour!!!! Hypes up my bad ideas bc he’s not involved -- but he will be giving me a thumbs up in the sidelines. I feel like he’s the type to make me text the guy I have a crush on “Just do it. What do you have to lose?” UM my dignity??? Tf Josh.

8.DK – The human version of a “pick-me-up” He is so “no thoughts, head empty” and I am too. Let’s go cloud watching !!!!!!!!! Let’s pick flowers !!!! A good friend to text on a bad day bc he will literally tell you the most embarrassing thing that happened to him, and even though you’ve heard it before it’ll still make you laugh.

7. The8 – simple, really. He likes art and I love art. He likes fashion, I like fashion. I feel like we could talk shit together LMAO. He has the most specific roasts but they’re always on point. I need someone who’s a little bit mean in my life <3

6. Mingyu – I know I could bully him jokingly and he’d take it (bc he knows I’m joking) but it wouldn’t stop him from pouting a bit. I feel like he’d be scared of me at first LMAO. We both share the hobby of photography so my ideal day out with him is just wandering around with cameras and taking pics of things we think are beautiful. Also forcing each other to pose in front of a dirty brick wall bc “IT LOOKS COOL, TRUST ME.” “WAIT I DON’T KNOW HOW TO POSE THO” and then he’d literally have to mold me into a good pose bc I am Play-doh

5. Vernon – The calm to my crazy, convinces me not to beat someone’s ass. Walks into my room to say nothing else but “Spaghetti” and then leaves quietly. Doesn’t talk to me for 5 months but will send me a meme at 5am bc it reminded him of an inside joke we had. Live-texts his emotions to me while watching tv shows, and shares new conspiracy theories with me. He’s a little bit too chill, I need someone ready to fuck shit up.

4. S Coups – is reliable and gives good advice bc he’s also a ball of anxiety. Nags me to do the right thing. Messes with me a lot. Would stay on the phone with me if I was home alone and told him I heard a noise. Says “Calm down there’s no one there.” BUT he’d also say shit like “check under your bed”

3. Seungkwan– I feel like we’re just as annoying as each other. He has the biggest heart and is super encouraging and thoughtful. Half the time we’re joking around, and the other half we’re fighting. Very much love-hate. Capricorns and virgos are a superior duo. I said it.

2. Hoshi– all round good vibes. Chaos and Loudness matched. Doesn’t always have to be around a lot of people bc he creates the fun when it’s just us two. The kind of friend I practice flirting on and everyone’s like ??? “You’re in love with him” no bro I’m just bored… we just do this kind of shit and he is IMMUNE to my lovey antics by now.

1.Dino– We bully each other a lot but we also have each other’s backs. Definitely not ride or dies tho bc we will tell each other when the other fucked up. We are sarcastic dumb dumbs and that’s why we like each other. I feel like he would only tell me how much he cares about me on my birthday.

BEE:

13. mingyu – i literally don’t know what i would say to mingyu. “tall man” or “what up big boy.” i would be scared of him until someone taught me how not to be. like i gotta hang out with him in a group setting for three months straight until i can say hi to him when i enter a room. if i saw him i would simply just Not See Him.

12. wonwoo – like mingyu i don’t know if i’d have anything to say to him. him and mingyu both have popular high school boy personalities and that scares me.

11. josh – besides being californian, i don’t know if we’d have anything to talk about outside of in n out and traffic. he’s too pretty for me.

10. The8 – i feel like we’ve been over this for me. he’s too intellectual and polite i wouldn’t have much to say to him. but i feel like we could talk good shit about other people.

9. jun – i think i get along well with people with quiet funny personalities. like the kind where you don’t have to necessarily say anything but look at them and they’re telling you what they’re thinking. he knows that i know. so he kept reacting and looking at me. i think it’d take a while to develop a friendship though.

8. jeonghan – i wanna cause chaos with jeonghan. i want to do lots of things with jeonghan i feel like he would give me piggyback rides while sliding with his socks on the floor. he would tease me and i would be offended for five minutes while he pretends to tell me he’s sorry (he’s not).

7. dino – dino and i would be like twins building a sandcastle on the beach. that’s our vibe. like the kids you meet on vacation and play pirates with at the pool. relegated to the kids table kind of vibe.

6. scoups – he’s like the type to play catch with the stuffed animal in the room while we sit on the floor and chat. like he just arrived and is asking me about my day and picks it up from my bed and we throw it around while talking.

5. seungkwan – i think seungkwan and i could sit and talk outside on the patio when the stars are bright. like we could sit outside and stare out at the stars while i talk about my biggest dreams and don’t even need to see him to know that he thinks the world of me

4. hoshi – i see a lot of face masks. hoshi teaches me how to dance while they rest on our faces, but they keep sliding off because we’re laughing too hard. he has immaculate vibes, like the type to say “here for a good time not for a long time” but it’s an absolute lie because he’s there for both.

3. woozi – although i like to joke that he’s an evil little man, i think we could talk a lot about music and he would be very happy to teach me what he knows, and we’d spend a lot of time developing ideas and growing together.

2. vernon – he has the personality of my irl best friend, like a slightly chaotic aquarius who is horrendously hard to reach like 99% of the time. he’s the kind of guy who would try to make dinner but end up fucking it up so horribly that when i come in it’s like smoky and awful and the fire alarm is going off, so i have to air out the apartment and go get takeout and bring it home to my burned smelling apartment and eat it on the floor of the living room while binge watching a new netflix show.

1. dk – i just love the kind of joy and energy he radiates, like would be excited to do anything at all if it’s with me. would love to accompany me on any task if i just asked, like getting ice cream at 10pm and he’d know exactly what kind of flavor he’d get so it could accompany mine well when we inevitably switched halfway through the cone. saves the bottom of the cone, the chocolate tip, for me because he knows it’s my favorite.

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13uswntimagines · 3 years

Text

Your Ass Is Out of This World (Kelley x Reader)

Request: alex or kelley or sonnett x reader where they've been dating for a few years R is an astronaut for NASA and she gets to go to space

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog cause without her, none of this would have happened.

Kelley wasn’t quite sure how she had ended up standing next to a dive bar sipping a lukewarm beer on a Friday night. In her defense, Ali and Ashlyn had convinced her it would be fun and had promised to pay for the Uber rides both ways. It had been fun for a while, dancing with them to some old 70s songs on the light-up dance floor, but half an hour ago they had disappeared off into a hallway somewhere, and she had no intention of third-wheeling (she knew she should have convinced Alex to join them). But she also wasn’t going to leave without them, because she wasn’t convinced either of them were sober enough to take any kind of transportation safely (someone needed to be there to make sure they didn’t puke in someone’s car).

So here she was, standing by the bar waiting for her friends’ sexcapades to be over, nursing her drink. The clink of a glass settling in front of her caught her attention. She blinked at the bartender. “I didn’t order another one,”

The man’s lips ticked up and he shrugged. “Lady on the end paid for it. Said you looked sad,”

Kelley looked up, following the man’s eyes towards a woman standing a few seats down the bar from her. She was also standing alone but was dressed as though for a different event altogether. Kelley had embraced the 70s theme of the bar slightly, wearing a jumpsuit and a scarf around her head, but this woman had just thrown a white NASA shirt--like the one Kelley got for her little cousin at Target-- over a pair of black jeans. As she bobbed her head to the music she met Kelley’s eyes and smiled.

Kelley took that as her invitation to approach. Kelley’s eyes traced her form, lingering on the white material. She didn’t know those came in adult sizes...

“You must be a star, I can't stop orbiting around you” Kelley smiled charmingly as she approached you, setting her beer on the bar beside you and settling in the seat to the left of yours.

“I do believe I was the one to buy you the drink…” you said, your lips twitching as you tried to keep a serious expression. “Shouldn’t I be the one throwing pickup lines here?”

“You bought me the drink, so I get to be the one to woo you. I’m Kelley, are you from Mars? 'cuz I wanna explore you with curiosity.” Kelley said, wiggling her eyebrows at you, enjoying the light blush coloring your cheeks.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “that was terrible. I mean really good but absolutely awful.”

“At least I got you to smile, but you still haven’t told me your name.” Kelley laughed, taking a sip of her beer. She was prepared to lay on the horrible pick up lines for your entertainment.

“I’m Y/n,” you said, putting down your drink and holding out your hand, “pleasure.”

“They call me the milky way...Pleasure You Can't Measure,” Kelley smiled, shaking your hand as you laughed and pulling you a little closer “Why look at the moon, if I can’t touch it? Why look at your lips, if I can't kiss them,” she said, winking so you knew she was completely joking.

“How do you know so many of these?” You said, shaking your head in awe. “ All I know off the top of my head is ‘do you work for NASA? Because you’re out of this world!’”

“Ah, a magician never reveals her secrets,” Kelley whispered conspiratoryly, bringing her hand up to cover her lips. “but my team and I have definitely had flirt offs for bonding nights,”

“Your team?”

“Yeah, I play soccer for the US and Washington,” She shrugged as if it wasn’t a huge accomplishment.

Your eyes widened and you nearly spat out your drink. “Didn’t they, like, just win a World Cup?”

“Yeah, No biggie,” Kelley said, side-eyeing you as she took another sip.

“No biggie? I’m surprised you don’t have a swarm of paparazzi shadowing you, that’s incredible! Weren’t the USWNT like the most successful US team in soccer?’

“Hm, there’s not enough drama for them, but we don’t mind. How about you? What do you do beautiful?” Kelley hummed.

“Oh. I work for NASA,” you said, gesturing at the shirt. “I can’t wait to bring some of those lines back to work.”

“What??”

****

“So do they at least give you a good choice of flavors? So you don’t get bored and stuff?” Emily asked from across the table, licking her dripping I cream cone.

When your girlfriend decided to introduce you to the team after their match against Colombia, you were quite surprised she had chosen an ice cream shop as a venue. But with how food motivated the youngins seemed, you realized how appropriate it was.

“I mean,” you said, your spoon suspended in the air as you blinked at Emily, “ice cream isn’t the only thing we will eat. I’m going to be on the station for like 8 months. Ice cream is not a balanced diet.”

“But it’s the only one they sell in the stores. You don’t have to lie cause the veggie lovers are here,” The defender said, leaning across the table, as though it would prevent the rest of the table from hearing her.

“Babe, you literally love most veggies too,” Lindsey rolled her eyes, using her thumb to wipe a spot of chocolate ice cream from Emily’s nose.

“Actually, I heard they’re a pretty good selection of dehydrated fruits and veggies and MRE’s and Tortillas and stuff. Plus I get to take a few things from home…” You mumbled, leaning back.

She couldn’t be serious right? There was no way she thought you were supposed to sustain yourself on horrible freeze-dried dairy products for that long. Not to mention, freeze-dried ‘astronaut’ products for the most part weren’t actually possible to bring to space, with how crumbly they are. You were more likely to eat actual ice cream on the space station (less chance for an errant crumb being inhaled or destroying an important piece of equipment) than that gift shop garbage.

“Oh yeah, MRE sounds way more likely than just eating the stuff they literally label as being for astronauts…” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “What does that even stand for? ‘Must reject Emily?”

You opened your mouth to answer, eyebrows furrowed, only for Kelley to nudge you softly.

“It’s not worth the fight babe, trust me. Not the brightest lighthouse if you know what I mean,” Your girlfriend made a swirling motion with her finger next to her temple.

You leaned in closer so your lips were nearly touching her ear. “She’s not serious right?”

“I never joke about ice cream,” Emily answered seriously.

You blinked at her, looking to your girlfriend who just shrugged and raised her eyebrows.

“I’m, I’m not sure if they have a flavor rotation system for ice cream flavors. We haven’t been… briefed on that yet,” you nodded seriously.

…...

“Can you hear me?” Kelley said, tapping her fingers impatiently as your face appeared in the video call.

“He- -utiful,” You smiled through the glitchy computer screen. Your waving was broken up like a bad claymation. You leaned in to make out the fuzzy figures standing behind your girlfriend, assuming she was at camp or something.

Normal long distance sucked, but literally being off-planet really made things difficult. It wasn’t like Kelley could just text you when she missed you, or randomly call you when she missed you at 3 am. Sure, she could email and you made a tremendous effort to schedule calls once a month, but it was still incredibly difficult (and slightly weird that a NASA tech dude had to monitor each call to make sure the connection stayed up). And sometimes even the best video-calling technology had issues. Like today (when a giant satellite or piece of space trash would block the signal).

“Are you hav- -un at -amp?” You asked, grabbing your floating water pouch pushing out a sip sized water drop.

“Yeah, it’s great,” Kelley said, watching you munch on your water. When you first got on the station you sent her pictures of artwork you made out of different drops of colored water- specifically making a giant water ‘soccer ball’ for her. Then you tried to boop it around and ended up losing control, amusing all your crewmates who watched you trying not to run into too many walls. “We’re looking forward to playing against Brazil on Friday, should be brutal.”

“We’re set to be ov- Florida on -day, so I’ll try and tune into the ga-. Catch a nice - view,” You nodded, wiggling your eyebrows (which looked more like you having a seizure due to how badly you were pixelated).

While Kelley wasn’t entirely sure what you were saying, she went ahead and nodded. “Let me know what you think!”

“Wh- color -it are you w-ing? Y- look -uper s-xy in the -ue,” you said, floating up in a ‘draw me like one of your french girls’ pose.

“You’re favorite one,” Kelley said, winking at you.

“-es!!” You cheered “-ake p-ture -or -“ the screen flickered dangerously for a second. Before a wobbly picture returned.

“Babe you’re breaking up, I can’t tell what you’re saying. Y/n. Are you there? UGh. I love you! We’ll talk soon.”

“-ove y- -oo”

Kelley blew a slow kiss to her camera before she heard a deep voice saying “Sorry ma’am. The connection was lost. Y’all still have five minutes on your scheduled call- Want me to try calling again? See if the signal improves?”

“Yeah,” Kelley shifted, rubbing the bridge of her nose as typing sounds echoed through the speaker. How she was going to make it through four more months of this she had no idea.

“What if like the ship was attacked by aliens or something,” Sonnett whispered from her left, staring at the blank screen with real trepidation.

“Not possible ma’am,” she heard him laugh. “But I doubt I would have the right level of security clearance to know.”

“great.”

Kelley grabbed a pen and marked a day off the calendar hanging on her wall. So much for ‘phone call with Y/n.’ She sighed. Just a few months to go.

****

Gravity fucking sucked. It was disorienting and heavy and made you sick to your stomach. Space station alums always talked about re-entry and how bad that was, but you thought sitting in a NASA hospital bed while your equilibrium readjusted was way worse than your fireball craft plummeting into the ocean.

“This fucking sucks,” You groaned, again throwing your hand over to pull out the IV. You hated how hard it was to move (and how you actually had to hold up a cup of water to get a drink but that was beside the point).

“Whoa babe, I know you’re a little out of it right now, but that has to stay in. Just try and relax for a little while,” Kelley said, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of your knuckles.

You frowned at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “Don’t wanna be here. Wanna be home with you.”

“I know, but you gotta stay here until the re-entry symptoms have worn off a little more,” She said again. She knew that you weren’t going to be 100% when you stepped out of the spacecraft, but she hadn’t expected you to be so out of it. You were sick to your stomach and entirely unable to walk without assistance.

The doctors assured her that you would be fine (residual effects from not being in gravity for so long and the impact of the landing or whatever), but it was still difficult to watch. It didn’t help that you were a horrendous patient.

“Just watch the game. The US is even in Blue,” Kelley tried to coax. Even she was beginning to grow restless. But you couldn’t leave until you could keep down solid foods.

“I don’t want to watch. You’re not in it,” You said, grabbing the remote from her and turning the television off. Then you tried to set the remote in the air, but instead of hovering like it should have done, it dropped to the ground.

“Alright, commander Y/l/n. It’s dinner time,” one of the NASA hospital nurses said, bringing in a tray for you. Kelley thanked them as they left since you were too dazed to think of it.

“God this food sucks, I hate jello ” you grumbled, lifting the spoon in front of your face (fully expecting it to float so you could take your bite) and dropping it as you want to open the pudding packet instead. “I just want a big juicy cheeseburger. With bacon and onions and-“ You trailed off, your mouth watering at the thought. You hadn’t had proper food in 8 months, and it had been your major cravings food.

“A side of diabetes” she scoffed, picking up the discarded remote and spoon, “And are you going to keep dropping things everywhere?” She asked, carefully filling a spoon with chocolate pudding and guiding it to your mouth.

“Fuck Newton. Things are supposed to float,”

****

You loved the soft skin behind Kelley’s ear. It was so smooth, and it always smelt like a mix of her perfume, shampoo, and something inherently Kelley. It was a bonus that your exploration of the area always sent a shiver down her spine. You ran your nose along the skin there, nibbling on her ear before moving down her neck. Leaving little kisses along your path. Kelley sighed, sleepily scratching your scalp and tilting her head to the side to encourage you to continue.

“You,” Kelley said. “ I like you.”

“Hm, I’m glad. It would be kinda scary if you were doing this with someone you didn’t like,” you mumbled against her skin, unwilling to part with it for even a moment. Kelley giggled at the tickling sensation. How you still had so much energy after you had thoroughly worn her out getting… reacquainted she would never know.

“But what do you like most. Tell me, babe,” You said, moving your lips a little lower, towards where her shoulder and neck met.

“I love… your ass. It’s out of this world.” She said sleepily, reaching around to grab her favorite asset of yours.

“Well, it has been,” You laughed, pulling away reluctantly so you could look her in the eyes.

“Shut up you goof,” She rolled her eyes, grabbing a pillow and whacking you lightly. You fell over dramatically, pulling her so she was on top of you.

“Hm, I’m your goof,”

“Yeah. You are. And babe?” She smiled down at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Hmm?” You hummed against her lips. She leaned back to look you in the eyes, one forearm across your chest and her other hand beside your head supporting her.

“No more space travel for a while?”

“Pinky promise,” You said, wiggling your hand so your littlest finger connected with hers.

“Good. I can’t believe I was dating someone from TEXAS for a while.” Kelley pretended to shudder. “Jus think, one of your coworkers might have been a Houston dash supporter!”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #literalhedgehog #kelley o'hara x reader #kelley o'hara imagine

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beauvibaby · 3 years

Text

boudoir - j.benn

a/n: not proofread, but plus size reader x Jamie 😌

“Babe? You got a package.” Jamie called into the house, you heard the crinkle of a shipping bag in his hand and raised your eyebrows, trying to remember what you had ordered. A gasp fell from your lips as you realized what it was, Jamie froze, halfway to setting it down on the counter when you came bounding down the hallway, all but stealing the package from his grasp. “Well, hello to you too.” He mumbled in confusion as you put the bag behind your bag, you laughed under your breath, “hi babe.” You stepped forward to kiss him quickly. “Why so secretive?” He raised an eyebrow at you. You bounced on your feet, a girlish smile on your face, “it’s part of your anniversary present.” You admitted. “Part?” He asked as you turned and started walking away, “wait, our anniversary isn’t for another month?!” He added, “perfection takes time, Jamie!” You shouted in response.

When Jamie left for a game a couple of nights later, you tried on the set you had gotten online, finding yourself more than happy with the way the lingerie fit you. Normally it was a hassle to find something that fit you properly, that gave your curves the right type of definition, and this was definitely, definitely that.

The photo shoot went even better than you could have imagined, the photographer was kind and patient, directing you to pose in certain ways, and assuring you that you looked amazing— that you and Jamie both would love what came from the session. You’d don’t plenty of research on boudoir shoots, finally setting one up with someone who was used to doing plus size shoots.

You walked into the house, giddy and nervous to see the final pictures from the photo shoot you’d just done, you knew it would be a few days until they were finished, but the excitement was still there. “Hey.” Jamie smiled, turning to look at you over the back of the couch, he did a double take as he saw the makeup on your face that he was certain wasn’t there when you left. “Got a secret man I should be worried about?” He teased as you walked over to him, you leaned down to kiss him, smiling against his lips when he put his hand there to hold you in place a little longer. “You look pretty, baby.” He murmured, pecking you once more before letting you go. “Thanks.” You giggled, reaching out to wipe some of the red lipstick off of him, he complained as you teased him for it. “What did you do today?” He questioned, pausing whatever show he was watching as you did your small routine like hanging up your purse and putting away your shoes. “Hung out with some of my friends, got lunch, nothing special.” You explained, the whole thing being a lie, a good lie of course. “Did you have fun?” He asked, watching you like a lost puppy, “yes.” You answered with a breathy laugh as you caught his gaze. “Did you miss me?” You teased, your only response being a wide smile.

***

You nearly bounded into her studio, eager to pick up Jamie’s anniversary present on your way home from work. “Hi, Y/N.” Sheila laughed as you walked in with a grin, she handed the leather bound album right over, she anxiously watched you open it, “oh my god.” You gasped, hand shooting to your mouth as you looked through the pictures of yourself, you saw yourself completely different now. You felt like you were on top of the world, “Sheila, oh my god, thank you.” You looked over at her, “of course!” She grinned, happy to see your reaction. “Be sure to tell me what Jamie thinks.” She added with a giggle,

“Jamie?” You shouted into the house, you’d spent the last ten minutes in the car trying to figure out what to write on the blank page on the book. You settled on a sentimental message for your husband, putting the book back into the box before heading inside.

“Office!” He called out in response, you were about to kick your heels off and head for him, but you bit your lip and decided on keeping them on, letting them click along the floor as you walked towards Jamie’s office. “I’m about to do an interview.” He spoke as he clicked away on the computer, he glanced up at you and saw the happy smile on your face as you leaned against the doorway. “Alright, guess I’ll just give you this when you’re done.” You smiled over at him, slightly shaking the box, he raised an eyebrow, “ok, I shouldn’t be too long.” He laughed softly as you nodded eagerly. “I’ll be in the bedroom.” You called already clicking your way down the hall. He stared at the door curiously for a moment, wondering what it was that you had gotten him.

***

It felt like an eternity but in reality it was only forty five minutes until your husband came padding down the hall to find you. “Hey, babe.” He hummed, seeing you stretched out on the bed, your work clothes long gone as you wore one of his shirts and some leggings. He chuckled as you popped up, “come here.” You demanded eagerly, it was a couple of days early, but you couldn’t wait any longer, this had been nearly a month in the making. “Wow, my day was good, thanks.” He teased, joining you against the headboard where you were now sitting, you laughed and pulled him in for a kiss. “I missed you, how was your day Jam?” You asked as he plopped down beside you, hooking an arm over your shoulder, “better now.” He quipped, reaching for the box. “It’s a little early, but it’s your anniversary present.” You mumbled, he grinned over at you, slowly pulling the lid off the box. You turned to be facing him more as he moved the tissue paper aside, his eyebrows furrowed as he lifted the leather book out, he pushed the box away and set the book down on his lap, flipping the cover open and reading your message.

He pulled you in for a quick kiss, “I love you.” He mumbled, caressing your cheek for a moment, “I love you too.” You whispered, biting your lip as he flipped the page over, he froze for a moment, eyes widening s bit. He shut the book dramatically, looking over at you, you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “Keep going.” You encouraged, scooting closer to him as he moved to the next page of the book, “oh my god.” He muttered under his breath as he continued flipping through the book. You giggled as he threw his head back with a breathy chuckle as his face reddened. “Baby, these are, wow. You’re gorgeous.” He gasped, so in awe of what he was looking at. “The last one is my favorite.” You admitted as he reached the end, he flipped to the last page, smirking as he looked at the photo of you on the floor, head resting on the front of a couch seat, back arched, one hand on your bent knee, the other pushing your hair up as you looked directly into the camera, lips parted in a smug smile.

“You know what I think?” He spoke up, holding the book out in front of the two of you, your favorite picture staring back at you. “What?” You asked softly, confused as to what he was going to say. “I say that I order a big print of this to hang up.” He teased, sending you into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, that’s not happening Jamie.” You pushed on his shoulder lightly, shrieking as he tossed the book down to the edge of the bed, quickly moving over you. “You’re the best wife ever.” He mumbled, kissing across your face, “I love those pictures, but I love even more that they made you feel so good about yourself.” He admitted, smiling against your lips as you quickly pulled him in for a kiss. “You know,” you started, rolling your head to the side as he kissed across your neck, “they do couples shoots too.” You watched him lift his head up, giving you a curious look. “Mhm, no, I’d much rather look at you in lace than me.”

taglist: @heybarzy @kiedhara @anxietyandtacos @literarycharleton @miracleonice87

#jamie benn #Jamie Benn imagine #Jamie Benn imagines #Jamie Benn fic #Jamie Benn x reader #Jamie Benn x plus size #dallas stars #nhl fics

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peach-pops · 4 years

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Famous S/O HC

This is very self-indulgent cause I’m the type to make up fake scenarios where I’m famous and going on interviews and press tours asfjdks. If you guys want, I’ll make more of these! Oikawa+Tsukishima underneath the cut!

How The Haikyuu Boys Find out that You’re Famous

-Bokuto- (Pro-Athlete)

Bokuto knew you were an athlete but he had NO IDEA that you were super famous. Like he always thought it was normal for people to come up to you after your game to ask for pictures or autographs ???

I mean that’s why he was so drawn to you because of how much passion you had for your said sport cause duh he could relate

One day when you two were out at the mall, he told you that he needed to get new shoes to work out in and so the two of you went into the Nike store so he could look around

He was looking through the shoe aisle and after almost two hours of looking through the same shelves, he finally found a pair he liked (shopping with him is so time-consuming but that’s for a different day)

when he found a pair he liked, the two of you made your way to the cashier to pay for his shoes. As the cashier was ringing Bokuto up, his eyes traveled up to the large poster/banner that was directly behind the cashier’s area and smiled to himself

It was a colorful promotional banner with a bunch of top athletes from around the world and as he’s looking at the banner, he sees this girl and he nudged you like,” Babe, she looks like you!”

You look up from your phone and sure enough, you’re plastered on the wall posing with other athletes

“ Oh yeah, I didn’t think this shoot would come out until next month.”

Bokuto didn’t even process what you just said but my dude behind the cash register stopped scanning the shoes to turn his head to the banner and he turned PALE.

He even does a double-take cause hold up, is there seriously a pro athlete in front of him?

“ Oh my god...You’re Y/N L/N!”

“ How do you know my…” Bokuto furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the banner again and he even squinted like hold up

AND IT ALL SUDDENLY CLICKS FOR HIM

“ Y/N? That’s you!”

“ Yeah-”

Bokuto can’t even believe it and he totally spaced out when you take a selfie with the guy behind the register with the banner in the background like UMMM HIS GIRLFRIEND IS FAMOUS WHAAAAAA

“ YOU’RE ON A NIKE POSTER OH MY GOD! LOOK YOU’RE ON THIS MAGAZINE WHA-”

Dude is totally making a scene in this store but he does not give a single fuck

As he’s walking you back home, he’s looking up all of your stats and even watches a compilation called “ 100 times Y/N L/N was a beast!” and he’s just shooketh

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE A FREAKING PRO ATHLETE??”

“ I didn’t think it was a big deal I mean, you’re pretty famous too babe.”

“ I DON’T HAVE A PROMOTIONAL BANNER WITH NIKE!”

He’s not salty at all he’s just a bit emo cause he felt bad that he never even noticed before

As your fame grows, so does Bokuto’s with his volleyball career. You and him are described as a powerhouse couple and it really hypes the two of you up like THE POWER YALL POSSESS TOGETHER ON AND OFF THE COURT/FIELD/WHATEVER

Lots of training together and joint interviews together like Wired autocomplete or your favorite ~THIRST TWEETS~

“ ~Bokuto could spike a volleyball in my face, crack my nose in two different places, and I’d thank him~ oh my god that’s horrible I would never do that.”

“ I mean, you’ve done it before haven’t you?”

“ That was different anyway, your turn Y/N!”

*passes that clunky ass bucket*

“ ~Y/N L/N, please tie me up and- oh my god this is too dirty I can’t! My mom will watch this!”

If you’re a pro volleyball player, you two get compared a lot and it bugged you at first since you felt like you two were two very different in terms of playing style but after a while, you both started to encourage the idea of your own playful rivalries like comparing stats and wins

But if you’re in a different sport, you two get asked questions like who’s sport is harder or what it would be like if you two switched sports like??? But because you two are in different fields, you both have such major respect for each other cause you can’t even imagine how much hard work it is

He absolutely does not mind it at all when fans approach you two if you guys are on a date. He knows how important your relationship with fans are, especially if they’re younger girls who look up to you as a role model

Bokuto will fall in love with you all over again whenever you crouch down to a younger fan ughhhghgh

He doesn’t care for the paparazzi to be honest. he knows it comes with the territory but he will get a bit protective if they start to get too close to you

“ Hey, we’re just trying to get back home so just let us through please,” but if it continues, he will not give a single fuck about being nice,” dude, what did I just say? Back off!”

Mad!bokuto will be the death of me

He knows how stressful it is being a pro athlete but he will always remind you how proud he is of you and if he ever sees you overworking, he will make sure you take a day off even if that means just napping together all day

Long story short, Bokuto would be amazing to have by your side as you’re navigating being in the public eye and you may quote me on that

-Oikawa- (Actress)

This attention whore I swear

So Oikawa knows that you act but he doesn’t know that you’re an actress (which is basically the same thing)

Like as a kid you were in commercials and you had a small role in a tv show but it wasn’t like it was super popular.

But what Oikawa didn’t know was that a couple months before you two started dating, you were flown out to America to star in an upcoming and highly anticipated movie

since you were under a contract, you weren’t allowed to talk about it until the trailer dropped and it ate away at you because all you wanted to do was tell people especially your boyfriend

ANYWAY He decided to take you on a date to the movie theatre and as you two were getting popcorn, these girls came up to you two

“ Hi! Is it okay if we can get a picture with you?”

“Of course, how could I ever turn down my lovely fans-”

“ No, not you, Y/N!”

Oikawa is just flabbergasted as the girls hand their phone to him so he can take a photo of you with your fans he deadass thinks it’s some prank

After the girls left, he gave you a weird-ass gaze and asked you what that was about but you just shrugged and told him that maybe it was because of ur mini part in that one tv show

So he thinks nothing about it and teased you that it was so cute how you had a mini fanbase and you weren’t going to lie, it was pretty freaking cool

You guys entered your theatre and got settled into your seats as the movie trailers started to play.

(Oikawa loves watching trailers like this dude is the type to take you 45 minutes before the movie actually begins JUST to make sure he doesn’t miss anything)

As you’re chilling in your seat, you see the trailer to your movie so you do your best to keep your eyes on your boyfriend and the screen at the same time cause you want to see his reaction

The trailer plays and Oikawa seemed to be interested in the movie but again, it’s like any normal trailer UNTIL he hears your voice coming from the screen and he immediately sits up in his seat

“ Wait- was that your voice?”

“ My voice?”

“ Nevermind, I think I’m going crazy-”

AND THEN HE SEES YOU ON THE SCREEN! Since it’s a trailer it was just about five seconds of an intense/dramatic scene but it’s enough for Oikawa to lose his mind

“ OH MY GOD THAT IS YOU!”

This prompts some people in the audience to shush him but Oikawa doesn’t care

“ OH SHUSH THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND! Y/N! THAT’S YOU!”

“ Toru oh my god yes that’s me but stop screaming or they’re gonna kick us out!” You whispered loudly as Oikawa clamped his hand over his mouth

He’s so happy and he’s beaming with pride so he pulls out his phone and records the trailer to post it in his group chat cause duh he wants to show the boys how proud he is but when he sees you kissing someone else for .6 seconds, Oikawa just (ㆆ_ㆆ) and stops recording

“ Are you okay babe?”

“ Was that real or CGI?”

“ The building crumbling is all CGI-”

“ No...the kiss.”

THIS DUMBASS LMAO HE’S SO SALTY AND JEALOUS

“ Why didn’t you tell me you were this good?”

“ I- I was always this good! But I couldn’t say anything, I’m under a contract!”

“ But you could’ve told me! I wouldn’t have told a soul!”

That’s a whole ass lie, if he knew, he would’ve bragged about it to Iwaizumi

But foreal, Oikawa is such a supportive boyfriend like as months pass and your following gets bigger, he just gushes cause yep that’s his famous girlfriend ( he will 100% use you sometimes for clout)

this dude LOVES bragging to his friends that he’s dating a famous actress. Like he was always showing you off and hyping you up before but it gives him such an ego boost when people find out the two of you are dating

Oikawa is an attention whore like I said so you know whenever the paparazzi appears, he eats it up and will pose which is SOO embarrassing like pls why do u do this

But there are some days where you don’t want to get recognized and he 100% understands so the two of you will wear disguises as to not get recognized. One time you two ended up getting caught so he just grabbed your hand and the two of you SPRINTED back to the subway

He will have all of your movies on DVD and if your movie is on a streaming service, he will buy a membership JUST so he can watch your movie

Sometimes you’ll come over to his house and he’ll always try to make you watch your movie for the millionth time

“ Toru, can we please watch something else?”

“ But my extremely talented and beautiful girlfriend is in this movie why would I watch anything but this?”

Don’t be fooled he WILL skip through any kissing scenes or scenes where your character shows any type of affection to another character

LOVESSS tagging along with you to photoshoots, interviews, red carpet events ALL OF IT

Red carpet events give him a chance to dress up and lowkey his outfit is always one of the best there. He won’t outshine you per se but fans actually look forward to see what he’ll be wearing and he’s not even in any of the movies I-

Your schedule gets pretty busy once your career takes off and even though there are certain time periods where you’re across the world, it won’t stop him from sending huge bouquets to your set

Basically, Oikawa is such a supportive boyfriend and is overall so proud of how you managed to juggle your studies with your acting career 10/10 best boy

-Tsukishima- ( Musician/Singer)

You and Tsuki had only been dating for a bit and since it was all still new, he kept it on the down-low because the last thing he needed was his teammates pestering him about a girl

Tsuki knew you liked to sing and write songs but you never told him about how well known you were simply because he never asked

He just assumed it was a side thing for you UNTIL he showed up to practice and some of his teammates were huddled around Noya watching something on his tablet

“ Move your elbow! I can’t see-”

“ Watch your hand-”

“ Shush! I can’t hear her-”

“ What are you idiots watching?” Tsuki asked as he craned his neck to look at the screen

No one answered him so he started to watch the music video and low and behold, your face popped up on screen singing along to your lyrics that he’s heard a million times

Tsuki is a bit taken aback cause why is his girlfriend in such a high production video and why is his heart feeling some type of way seeing you in that outfit

Like lemme just take off my glasses and see that again ( •_•)>⌐■-■

” Where did you guys get that video?”

“ What do you mean, it’s online? She’s trending right now-”

“ God all of her songs are so good I want to see her live-”

“ I can’t believe she goes to school with us-”

“ I wish she would step on me-”

“ Hey, don’t talk about my girlfriend like that,” Tsuki said dryly as he glares at the back of Noya’s head, which prompted everyone to turn around

“ You’re dating Y/N L/N? Ha! That’s funny Tsuki!” Tanaka laughed as he slapped Tsuki in the back harshly

At first, even Tsuki was questioning himself like wait, is he even sure you’re dating? cause this girl in the music video was NOT the same girl he was on the phone with last night

If you had asked Tsuki 10 seconds ago if he would ever reveal to the guys he was dating someone, he would say helllll no but now that he knew about this, he didn’t care about keeping the relationship a secret especially if they were thirsting over his girl

He had all the proof in the world that he was dating you but took the salty approach to prove it to them. He pulled out his phone and shot you a text even though you were in class

Tsuki: Come to the gym right now

Y/N: is everything ok?

Tsuki: just come quickly

You left your class to “use the restroom” and practically rushed to the gym thinking that something was wrong with your boyfriend. You slid into the gym, causing the boys to look up from the tablet and you ignored their shocked faces

“ Where’s Tsukishima?”

The boys slowly did a doubletake from the music video back to you to make sure they were seeing correctly and even though you were a bit embarrassed to hear your song playing in the background, you were just worried about Tsuki

Tsuki walked out to you from behind the guys and you rushed over to him

“ Babe, what’s wrong?”

“ BABE?!”

The boys were shocked and the second years practically FAINTED in your presence

Tsuki pulled the tablet from Noya’s cold, dead hands and showed you the screen,” Care to explain this?”

“ I- Um, it’s my music video…”

“Well are you famous or something?”

“ I wouldn’t say famous…more like upcoming artist?”

And then the next week you’re a nominee for the VMA’s asjfkghdk

honestly out of Oikawa and Bokuto, he probably handles it the best on the outside, he doesn’t make too big of a deal out of your fame but on the inside he’s can’t even believe it

He doesn’t go around shouting to the world that he’s dating the Y/N L/N but he has his own ways of supporting you. He’ll listen to your songs whenever he’s walking in the hallway or doing homework at home and he’ll catch himself liking tweets that are about you as long as they’re positive

He’s def the type to argue with people online if they say mean comments and will report/block them before you can even see it

IDC how much he tries to hide it, he is deadass ur biggest fan. Tsuki will tease you about how nervous you act during interviews/award shows but he will ALWAYS go with you to ease your nerves even if he had prior plans

If you ever write a song for him, he gets SO RED AND EMBARRASSED so pls do that

Will def call you baka for doing so but deep down, he’ll fall in love with you even more cause you’re able to put into words how he feels about you

I don’t think he’ll be too comfortable with you posting about him but he knows he can’t do anything about people taking photos of the two of you out together in public

Tsuki would never be rude to your fans though like if you were recognized during a date, he wouldn’t make a fit and will take photos of you and your fans to speed the process along

He HATES HATES HATES the paparazzi’s like it’s one thing for fans to come up to you when yall are in public but he gets mad when the paparazzi harasses you with questions/pictures/comments

“ Y/N! Turn around and give a smile!”

“ Not right now, I’m sorry.”

“ Oh come on, don’t be shy! Just show the camera a little skin!”

“ How about you shut the hell up before I smack that camera out of your face.”

Head empty, no thoughts, just thinking about Mad!tsuki

It’s a big adjustment for Tsukishima that he has a girlfriend in the entertainment sphere but he knows how hard you’ve worked for it and he would never tell you to stop living your dream

Sometimes he’ll feel insecure because you’re so successful and he doesn’t want to hold you back but since he can’t imagine being without you, he just pushes those thoughts away and enjoys every minute with you

1K notes · View notes

fantasia-monogram · 3 years

Text

Seven to twelve

♥️ Inseong x female reader (female anatomy); mentions of other SF9 members.

♥️ This is set in the As the clock strikes midnight universe, right after the epilogue! Read it before this one to get the context.

♥️ Smut (2.7k words); y/n is a professional Domme. Inseong is a bisexual sub. Mommy kink, degradation, spanking. Mentions of other BDSM practices.

♥️ Quality Department leader Kim Inseong has two secrets: first is his love for kink, second is a massive crush on a hot guy from HR department. Every Thursday, a trusted Domme helps him deal with frustration keeping those secrets causes.

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

As you stepped back into the dungeon, you admired the transformation the room had undergone while you were taking a shower. Your previous customer made a huge mess (still, not even comparable to the mess you've made of him). You weren't the best at cleaning - you've had other talents that got you through life, after all - so you couldn't help but be amazed at the work the cleaning staff did in such a short time.

Gone were the wet stains on the floor, and a soiled rug had been replaced for a fresh, fluffy one. All the scary torture equipment was hidden behind partition that would automatically slide out of the nearest wall by a press of a button. Antique leather chair was switched to a cozy looking armchair with blankets laid out on the floor next to it. The mood of the otherwise pretty sterile space was warmed up thanks to pink tinted lighting.

All of those were a tell-tale sign who your next customer would be.

You opened the wardrobe and took a black satin-and-lace bodysuit out of it. Your usual tight corset and leather boots wouldn't be needed this time. After you put the garment on, you opted for classic shiny stilettos, and topped the outfit with a short flowy dressing gown.

Just to be sure everything was in place, you checked yourself out in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door: the look was a blend of a retro housewife and a pin-up girl, complete with vintage style lingerie, aggressive eyeliner and red lipstick. Just as he liked it.

There were only minutes left to the appointment, so you stroke a couple more poses to see the outfit in different angles. Perfect. You crossed the floor in a few elegant strides, to finally take a seat on the armchair in the middle of the spacious room.

You had a pretty chill end of the workday ahead of you.

A soft, somewhat cautious knock on the door broke the silence.

"Come in."

There he was, entering hesitantly, and closing the door behind him in an awkward manner. Inseong - you had no interest in your customers' last names, it was something only the administration ladies kept for business purposes - was a tall, very tall man with broad shoulders, lanky limbs and a bit of a tummy; his face, though, was that of a teenage boy, with barely any wrinkles and nervous expression. From what he told you, he was some kind of a supervisor or a boss or something in the field of corporate banking. At that moment, however, with his black bangs covering his forehead, he was stripped out of all titles he might have held as a higher up.

Honestly, he looked pretty cute in a set of pink fleece pajamas with a print consisting of little yellow chicks.

He stood there, big eyes looking at you anxiously. You knew he was waiting for your sign - his wish was to experience your different moods, so you always kept him uncertain for a bit. It was more fun this way.

That night you decided to play nice, at least for a while. You put on your warmest smile, spreading your arms.

"Come on, baby, come to Mommy!"

Inseong didn't need to be told twice. He rushed from his place. In seconds, he sank onto his knees inbetween your spread legs. You sneaked your arms around his neck and harshly pulled him forward, only to let him plant his face right into your breasts.

Right, he had a thing for boobs. And muscular body types. That's why he chose to pay for your services in the first place.

He stayed like this for a good minute or two, occasionally rubbing his face against your soft flesh. You kept gently patting his head this entire time, until you decided that was enough and yanked him away by a handful of hair.

"Why don't you tell Mommy about your day, baby?" You cooed, still gripping his hair tightly. His eyes, looking even bigger, were all fired up already.

He was so easy to figure out.

"Y-yes… Yes, Mommy, I will," he stuttered. You let go of him, so he could sink back to the floor and lie his head on your lap.

You got back to combing your fingers through his black strands, just to keep the variety.

"There is this guy in the company…" Inseong started, his voice a bit hushed. "In another department. He's dreamy. But I don't think he's interested in me. I don't think he's interested in guys at all. Or at least in pathetic guys like me."

You uttered a soft mhmm to encourage him. Oh, so he came in to release the frustration. You already had a plan on how to help him with that, but that required waiting for a good moment to start the actual scene.

"I can't believe anybody would be able to resist my pretty baby," you sighed, staying in character.

"Thank you, Mommy…" Inseong replied shyly; he knew how to behave, or rather, how to reply to your compliments. "Actually, he spends so much time with that… I can never remember her name… She's a monster. Five and barely a half feet of a goddamn monster. I've heard they want to promote her to a leadership position soon. And she's so old! I can't believe Jaeyoonie is into older women."

Your eyes went wide at the name. No way. Glad Inseong couldn't see your face right now, you quickly calmed yourself down.

"Some guys are into milfs, you know that, right, baby?" You snorted. The things you had to do just to pace the appointment right…

"She's not a milf! She's only a year or two older than me," Inseong explained.

Come to think of it, you had no idea how old he was, and it was hard to tell by his looks only.

"Anyway, I'm sure he's fucking her. Or that awkward skinny boy always hanging out with them." Inseong started to sound pissed off at this point. "Now that I think of it, he could easily take them both! And that would mean he's into older women and younger guys. I don't fit into any of those demographics. What a nightmare."

"You never know," you concluded, although internally you were getting more and more suspicious of Jaeyoonie's identity.

"But there's more…" Inseong's voice broke at the last word. "There was a company party earlier that week… I drank too much and he saw me throwing up in the bathroom… I can't believe I embarrassed myself like that…"

That was the moment you were waiting for. You stopped your caresses immediately.

"Wait a minute. When was that party, exactly?"

You could feel Inseong tense up under your hand.

"Wednesday night…" He mumbled.

"Is that why you rescheduled from Thursday to Friday?"

You gripped his shirt at the back of his neck.

"Yes, Mommy… I was so hungover… I wouldn't be able to play with you…" Inseong started stumbling over his words. You slid your hand up, grasped a fistful of hair and pulled it back so he could face you in a very uncomfortable position.

The panic that flashed through Inseong's eyes gave you a solid rush of adrenaline.

"Good boys don't drink more than they could handle," you stated in a dead serious tone.

"B-but…" Inseong stuttered, "I have low tolerance. And everyone else was drinking…"

You tightened the grip on his hair, eliciting a strangled whine out of him.

"Then you shouldn't have drunk at all, you silly baby." You slowly stood up from your seat, dragging Inseong up on his knees, followed by a litany of pained whimpers. "You made Mommy sad. I've been waiting for you the entire day."

"Oh, no… I'm so sorry, Mommy…" Inseong babbled, on the verge of crying.

Not wanting to overdo it with his emotions just yet, you let go of his hair. He barely managed to feel relief, when you forcibly grabbed his chin.

"You're Mommy's favorite boy, but you need to learn your lesson" you concluded, staring straight into his panicked eyes. "What should I do with you now?"

Inseong went silent, nothing but anticipation pictured on his face.

"Oh, you look way too eager," you said, loosening the grip on Inseong's chin, "Go to the corner, hands on the wall."

"No, please!" Inseong cried out, although you knew very well he was just playing along. "Not the corner!"

"Should I make you go there on your fours?"

The guy mumbled a barely audible I'm sorry and obediently walked to the nearest wall. He took the usual position: propped on his hands, head hanging low, his broad back facing you - obviously, with the round butt presented to you in a shameful way.

To keep him waiting, you first took in the sight, unable to hold back a smirk. You knew soon he would be absolutely wrecked, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment and shining with tears.

Saying you loved your job would be an understatement.

Satisfied, you approached him, clicking of your heels the only sound in the room.

"I guess I have to spank you."

Inseong's head jerked up a little.

"I'm going to do this through your pants, though, and I'm going to use my bare hand only."

Inseong whined, head leaning down to previous position.

"One more complaint and I'm going to shove a plug into your hole and make you stand here for the rest of the night."

"I'm sorry!" He apologized frantically.

It's not like you haven't done that punishment before - you smiled at the memory of him coming untouched - but he really seemed desperate for some action this time.

You came closer and hovered your hand over the perfect curve of Inseong's butt. He trembled under your touch. So, so desperate.

"It's gonna be thirty, because that's how many hours I had to wait between the time you rescheduled to this meeting," you announced, causing Inseong to whimper quietly.

"Can I count?" He asked shyly.

"You're dumb enough to not know your limits, I think counting to thirty would be too much to ask."

With that, you landed the first slap.

You observed Inseong for a couple seconds before continuing. He didn't make a sound, but his arms shook, long fingers folding into fists against the wall. You wondered if he would even last the whole session.

Your predictions would soon turn out to be true: he started whimpering after each hit as soon as you landed the third one. When you approached the tenth, the whimpers turned into screams. Once you passed the first half, all he could do was to moan uncontrollably, his legs shaking so much you were wondering how could he even stand up at that point.

He didn't use the safe word, not even a single word of protest escaped his mouth either, so you knew it was fine to continue. He was so close to breaking. You absolutely adored the feeling of this moment approaching.

Finally, as you were raising your hand to slap Inseong's ass for the twenty seventh time, his knees gave up. The guy sunk down to the floor, still leaning against the wall. That turned out to be too much for him, though - ultimately, he slid his hands down, too.

You looked at him intently: Inseong, resting on all fours, kept trembling, his breathing so loud you could hear it from above. What an absolute mess. You were so amused you decided to end the session on a sweet note; however, your understanding of sweet was very... specific.

"What's that, baby? You can't take it anymore?" You cooed, approaching closer. Your shin brushed against his buttcheek.

"Mommy… I…" Inseong panted, visibly struggling to form a complete sentence. "Can I touch myself? I can't take it anymore…"

You almost laughed at how pained his tone was. Led by curiosity, you kneeled right behind him and leaned to take a close look: indeed, he was tenting in his cute pajama pants. Pathetic.

"Mmm, I'm not sure," you mused. "I don't think you've earned the permission to touch yourself."

"Mommy, please, it hurts," Inseong pleaded. He regained the ability to speak, but his voice started breaking.

"I want you to come, but I also want you to embarrass yourself even more, since you couldn't take your spanking like a good boy," you wondered aloud in an amused tone, "What should I do?"

You knew exactly, but hearing Inseong hold in his breath was worth every second of suspense.

"Anything… I'll do anything…"

Hearing that, you came to conclusion you've had enough of toying with him. You reached to ruffle his hair. He leaned into your touch like a cat.

"Dumb kittens like you don't deserve to be touched directly."

You lodged your thigh inbetween his legs, making him moan loudly at the sudden contact. He felt hard and heavy against your skin through the fabric separating you two.

"Work for it, baby," you commanded.

Inseong didn't need to be told twice. Disregarding all dignity, he started grinding against your thigh, his thrusts becoming more and more furious with time, until he couldn't hold back grunts escaping his mouth. You could feel his cock getting heavier; years of having to keep your urges to yourself during sessions gave you incredible self control, but Inseong's eagerness was turning you on so much you had to think of something quick. To ground yourself, you grabbed onto his hips, helping him grind even harder.

He looked so broken, though - with his head low on the floor, resting on his arms, and his ass high up, relying on you completely in his need for pleasure. The sounds coming out of him weren't making it any easier for you either.

It didn't take him long to finish at this pace. He stilled, arching his back, and came with a delicious, drawn-out moan. You quickly retracted your thigh, as you felt the wetness on his pants coming in contact with your skin.

You let him come down from his high. Once he was fine enough to sit up, you pulled him into a back hug. He sighed happily, leaning against your cleavage.

For good measure, you planted a couple kisses on his cheek and the side of his neck, leaving bright lipstick marks all over; he giggled uncontrollably at your affectionate gesture.

"Thank you, Mommy," Inseong purred, a smile adorning his pretty lips, "My head is so clear now. I feel so much better."

You wondered how he could sound so innocent with a huge wet spot in the front of his pants, not to mention he probably could barely sit with his butt burning from the spanking.

"I hope my baby has a good weekend." You kissed his cheek once again, this time letting your lips linger on his skin for a little longer.

Inseong's legs turned out to be still too wobbly to support him, so you helped him stand up and walked him to the door.

"You're gonna be fine in the shower?" you asked, a bit worried considering his weak state.

"I wish Mommy would join me, but I'm a big boy. I'll manage," he assured you.

To be honest, you wished for the same thing, but business was business, and Inseong was just your customer - no matter how much fun you had ruining him each time.

"Thank you, really. I needed that so much," he said, dropping the character. "See you next week."

You stared at the door for a while after he left, pretty sure there was something that slipped your mind during the meeting.

At last, it hit you: Jaeyoon, probably matching Inseong's ideal buff type, working a 9-to-5 job in some corporation. Could he be your old acquaintance from the BDSM community you met at a self defense course? You wondered for a while at the possibility.

Opening the wardrobe, you briefly rested your eyes on the clock. Seven to twelve. No time to muse over the past; you hoped those two would get together eventually, because if Inseong was the supervisor Jaeyoon couldn't shut up about all those years ago, then… well, they had some catching up to do.

#sf9 scenarios #sf9 imagine #sf9 smut #inseong smut #inseong thirst #inseong scenario #inseong imagine #inseong x reader #i was away for a while #contemplating shutting down this blog #tell me if you liked this one :(

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yespleasetommyshelby · 3 years

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Love in the 21st - Jay Halstead Fic - Three

"We got a name, Omar Rojas." I said loudly as me and Jay got back up to the bullpen, going over to the printer and grabbing his photo that I had printed on the way here, wireless is a wonderful thing, and slapping it up on the board next to the two who are now headless.

"Alright, this guys got priors for drugs, assault, carrying a weapon, the usual. Except he is a member of the Columbian Cartel." Jay explained as he took a seat on the edge of his desk.

"Good job, see if there's anything else you can dig up on this guy, friends, family, known locations." He instructed just as his phone rang. "Excuse me."

A whistle coming from the top of the stairs caught everyone's attention, Al had been over to the academy and pulled someone out to help us out. The guy he had got was tall and he had dark blonde/brownish hair.

"Guys, this is Adam Ruzek, Adam this is intelligence." He briefly introduced before he looked over at Erin. "Where's Voight?"

"Uh, he took a call, he went down the hall." She answered nodding her head in the direction he went, with a nod Al made his way past.

"Antonio Dawson, welcome to intelligence." Dawson got up and introduced himself, everyone following suit as they met the second newbie today, sighing to myself slightly I stood up and walked over being the last one to introduce myself.

"Hey, Kylie Platt fellow newbie." I smiled shaking his hand, that were real soft by the way.

"Adam Ruzek, and I wasn't told there was another newbie." He smiled looking down at me.

"Uh yeah, I was transferred here this morning, although I didn't know I would be in intelligence until a couple days before I started." I laughed slightly thinking back to how shocked I was when Trudy first told me.

"We must be real good at what we do then." He joked winking at me, he was about to say something else before he was interrupted.

"Hey Kylie, wanna grab a coffee?" Erin asked coming up besides me with a 'let's go' kind of look on her face.

"Uh, yeah sure." I said kind of unsure giving Adam a small smile before following Erin into the break room.

"Listen, I just wanted to let you know that if I was you, I wouldn't get romantically involved with anyone here." She smiled slightly pouring herself a cup of coffee as I made myself a tea, never a fan of coffee.

"What? Adam? I just met the guy like five minutes ago." I said confused.

"No, I don't mean him I just mean in general, ya girls have gotta look out for each other, I'm mainly letting you know because of Voight, he really does not approve of in-house romances." She said with a slight smile grabbing her mug before walking out into the bullpen.

"Hey Erin." I called making her look back over her shoulder. "Thank you, for the advice." I smiled receiving one in return.

"There's one last hit, I've arranged a meet with another deal Xavier." Voights voice booms as he strolls into the bullpen, putting yet another picture up on the board. "Ruzek you're up, you're gunna pose as a buyer and get this guy to set you up with his boss." Voight pointed at the newest newbie.

----------

The meet was a success, the Xavier guy was quick to roll on another guy, his whereabouts currently being traced by Chicago's finest tech whizz Sheldon Jin, speaking of which.

"I got a location boss." His voice sounded from the hallway as he practically ran through to Voight's office.

"Alright, lets gear up, Platt you ride with me." He said nodding to me.

"Uh, yes, Sarge." I nodded as he walked away. "Okay, what did I do?" I asked the rest of the guys who were getting ready to move out.

"Probably for your baseball practice earlier."Jay grinned as I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What baseball practice?" Antonio asks as we make our way down to the armory.

"You haven't heard how we got Omar's name?" He asked looking over at me with a sly grin on his face.

"I haven't, how'd you get it?" Adam asked as the rest of them shook their heads that they didn't know either.

"It was simple, he told us, anything Jay says is a lie." I lied narrowing my eyes at Jay.

"That doesn't sound right." Adam chuckled going along with Jay, Jackass.

"It's not, mini Platt here took the guys bat and started swinging it around the store, there was shit flying everywhere. He was so pissed man." Jay laughed loudly, the rest of the team joining in.

"Ha ha ha, you're real funny, you know that?" I laughed sarcastically.

"Come on mini Platt, I've already told you it was badass, Voight probably just wants to know if it went down the way he was told or something." Jay said throwing his arm around my shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, oh and by the way until you stop with the 'mini Platt' nickname you've got going on, you will be further known as chuckles." I smile sarcastically at him as the rest of the team got geared up.

"That'll never stick." He laughed shaking his head checking my vest was secure, just as Adam walked back in.

"We're ready to roll, you guys good?" He asked looking between my narrowed eyes and Jay's laughing face.

"We're good man, right mini Platt?" He chuckled raising an eyebrow at me.

"Wait, it just clicked, you're the niece aren't you." Adam asked wide eyed as he looked down at me.

"You're way too good for intelligence Ruzek." I laughed sarcastically patting his chest, turning and walking out towards the cars, hearing Jay's laughter as I went. "C'mon Chuckles we've gotta go!" I yelled grinning back at him as I watched how the laughter stopped and he narrowed his eyes at me for a change.

-----------

We were about five minutes away from our location when Voight turned to look at me slightly before looking back at the road again, this is all the fifteen minute drive has been, him looking at me every now and again.

"Hey, did I do something wrong?" I asked looking at the side of his face, watching how a small smirk made its way onto his ever resting bitch face.

"I heard about what happened in that store." He said without looking at me.

"I didn't hurt anybody and I got the name, what's the issue?" I asked shrugging my shoulders. "I mean sure some of his goods are now unsaleable but that's his fault for not telling me when I first asked." I carried on looking out of my window.

"You did good kid." He smiled at me as he stopped the car before something behind me caught his attention. "Damn it." He muttered as he got out of the car and went over to a guy wearing a suit, who I believe is the Lieutenant from violent crimes.

"Approaching the apartment now." Jules' voice came through on the com as her, Antonio, Erin and Jay made their way inside the building.

"You didn't think to tell me this why?!" Voights yell carried through the air, grabbing his walkie. "Suspect is believed to be in the building! I repeat Pulpo is in the building." He yelled into his radio just as gunshots were heard coming from the apartment block.

"Officer down! Officer down! Jules has been hit in the neck!" Erin's panicked voice came through the coms causing my blood to run cold.

"Pulpo's heading out the back exit of the building, he's armed." Antonio's breathless voice came through the radio.

"All units go! This guy shot one of our own, I don't care if he walks out." Voight ordered, nodding I took off knowing exactly what he meant, if you get the shot, take it.

"He's heading south through the alley that runs along the north side of the building." Adam's voice came through.

Stopping in my tracks I turned around jumping in one of the SUV's and taking off to where I knew that the exit to the alley was. Just as I made it to the alley a loud bang was heard as a body ran straight into the side of the car, falling to the ground with a thud, jumping out I raised my weapon and held my aim on the guy groaning in pain on the floor.

"Chicago PD! Stay down and put your hands behind your head," I yelled kicking the gun that he'd dropped away from him, Jay and Adam appearing seconds after. "What's up chuckles, too quick for you?" I laughed as he knelt down and cuffed Pulpo.

"Smart thinking." Adam panted leaning up against the car with a small smile on his face.

"Why, thank you." I smiled helping Jay stand Pulpo up and shove him in the back of the car.

-----------

"My god, I can not wait to go home and just forget all about today." I muttered from my place infront of Trudy's desk as I nurse my now cold cup of tea. Jules didn't make it, the bullet that hit her caught an artery, she had bled out before she'd even made it to med.

"I know Kyles, I still can't believe that he kept the fact that the bastard was in the building, if he would've just told Voight she'd still be alive." Trudy muttered narrowing her eyes at a figure who was in the captains office. Lieutenant Belden of violent crimes, absolute scum if you ask me.

Nodding in agreement I turned round just as Belden left the office, bad timing for him though as an extremly pissed off Voight stormed into the building.

"You did this!" He yelled as he charged at Beldon shoving him into the wall behind him. "You got her killed!" He yelled pointing his finger in his face.

Trudy was quick to come round and push him away, pushing against his chest as other officers grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Not the time or place Sergeant." Trudy told him seriously as she let go and pointed upstairs. "Go on." She told him receiving a slight glare from him before he stormed off slamming the gate behind him.

"Everyone back to work!" She yelled at the patrolmen who were stood watching the scene unfold. They quickly went back to their business. "And that, is just a taste of why you do not mess with Hank Voight and his unit." She sighed walking back round to her side of the desk.

"Platt, get back upstairs now." Voight's loud voice caught me off guard as he rushed back down the stairs and past the desk towards the garage type place where the cage sits, our private interview room for pieces of shit such as Pulpo. Which is currently where Antonio is, hopefully beating him senseless for what he did to Jules.

"What's going on Sarge?" I asked as me and Trudy looked at him confused.

"Antonio's son has been kidnapped." He said lowly before he went, I'm guessing, to the cage to get Dawson.

"Oh shit." I muttered to myself spinning round and sprinting up the stairs to intelligence.

#jay halstead fic #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead imagine #one chicago pd imagine #one chicago imagine #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd fic #love in the 21st three

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mythiccheroacademia · 4 years

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“All these kisses and hugs is not shit. You a damn drug, you're toxic.” —Kehlani

Word Count: 1.3K Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader Context: Everything is the same, you’re just pro-heroes. Oh, and Bakugo defintely broke your heart when you were younger, but for some reason, you two don’t want to act like that happened? Warnings: explicit language, sexual content (but no real smut), a couple laws were broken

Manga Recolor by XCamykoX on DeviantArt

All characters are 18+

A/N: You to me when I give you the look for feigning for this man. I swear I love Izuku. I just had to do it for the drabble. You’ll understand in a few lines. Also, idk if Hampton is a real place. I just saw it in a hotel ad and went along with it. Enjoy <3

Bakugo Katsuki | Toxic

Bakugo Bakugo Bakugo.

He was all that was in your mind and you knew it wasn’t supposed to be like that. He wasn’t supposed to make your stomach quiver or your legs tremble with anticipation. He was supposed to be the hallmark of your heartbroken memories—not the pillar of your desire.

You groaned before mentally making a verdict. You bolted upright and decided to trade in your battery-powered boyfriend for the real one.

Izuku.

Your boyfriend, you reminded yourself.

You shook your head. Today was a good time to be risky. You felt comfortable in your skin for once and confident enough that the right picture would make the usually reserved man run across town in four seconds flat.

Giggling in excitement, you felt your stomach fill with butterflies. You traded your pajamas for the white lacy lingerie you’d been keeping in your closet. You analyzed yourself in the mirror, adjusting the straps of the thigh highs for good measure. Smoothing down your fit, you grabbed your phone and tried to take an endearing snapshot of yourself.

The results made you frown. This wouldn’t do. It wasn’t demanding enough. Your eyes traveled around the room and your face brightened as an idea popped up in your head. You set the timer and set your phone against a stand.

The round of camera clicks allowed you to relax. Soon enough, each pose came easier than the last.

When you were done, you almost skipped to your phone. You couldn’t help the string of giggles that spilled from your lips as you scrolled through the photos.

These were the ones. They were enough to a send wave of goosebumps over your skin. The courage and exhilarant thrill that chilled your spine fueled you to caption the seductive pictures.

I’m feeling very lonely. Come keep me company?

You bit your lip to quell your nervous shivers. The photos were sent and all that was left for you to do was wait. You flopped face first on your bed and hopefully looked on your phone for that thrilling response of—I want you in X position by the time I get there—or something along those lines.

Things that Bakugo would say when you’d—

Stop it. Bakugo isn't who you want. It’s Midoriya.

You kept your thoughts positive as you scrolled through your texts. That is, until you noticed the messages weren’t conversations between you and your boyfriend.

Your heart sunk into your gut when read the contact name. Flicking to the number, your throat dried up as you read that the area code was 485 instead of 487.

No no no no no no no no no no no—

You scrambled onto your knees, panting as if you had run a 10k. Your chest ached as tears burned your eyes, your fingers fruitlessly scrambed on the smart screen for any type of recall button.

“Oh fuck,” you cursed.

Swallowing the rock in your throat, you sniffed and blinked away the tears. This was your fault. You decided to go ahead and act like a horny teenaged airhead instead of doing things the mature way. There was no point in crying about it now.

You forced yourself to take a quick look of who you sent the private pictures to.

Bakugo Katsuki.

Great.

You threw yourself down onto the bed, this time, letting a couple tears fall down your cheeks. You fucked up. Big time. Not only had you miserably failed at distracting yourself from the same man that you were supposed to stay away from, but now he had even more things to hold over your head.

As if leaving you for your best friend in college wasn’t bad enough.

You would never be able to live this down. How the hell were you supposed to face him tom—

Your phone rung.

Dread stung filled your chest. Without even having to look, you knew who was calling. His name ran bold across your homepage and the rhythmic piano song filled the corners of your room.

Couldn’t he just let you wallow in your misery? Did he really have to add on to the torment you would undoubtedly face tomorrow at work? Maybe if you just let it ring, he’d leave you alone.

…As if. This was Bakugo you were talking about.

It was better to face him now.

You pressed the answer button and spoke.

“I know I screwed up really bad, but remember how I thought I was dyslexic? The area codes looked the same out of the corner of my eye and I didn’t mean to send this to you and it was totally meant for Izuku—“

A deep husky voice reached your ears sending waves of pleasure to your core.

“Y/N L/N, what the fuck kind of game are you playing?”

The last time he used your full name was when his hands were rubbing down the hills and valleys of your body. You nervously played with the strap on your shoulders and continued.

“Bakugo, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m stupid. Just forget I ever sent the pictures and—?“ Your brows creased together as the sound of highspeed winds flowed through the speaker. “A-are you driving?”

The hero’s foot fell harder upon the gas pedal. “How the fuck can I forget about that when I know you own the lingerie you have in my dreams?” Bakugo blared the horn of his car and swerved around a slower vehicle. “You make me regret living in shitty Hampton.”

Your eyes widened. Hampton? Was he driving 45 minutes to—

“No, Katsuki. Go back. I’m begging you.” You didn’t realize the silk-laced voice was yours until seconds after.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you begging for that reason. You wanna play games? Fine. When I get there, I’ll make sure to play every position in the book. But for now, I’ll entertain you. I know this is really rushed but, baby, are you wet?”

Your mouth was dry but your body was flushed. You couldn’t lie to yourself any longer. You loved it when his desperate voice was still as gruff as it was. You loved the way he’d become frenzied with arousal over a few pics. For crying out loud, he was taking a 45-minute drive to your house because of three pictures.

But Izuku. Simple, boring, good-two-shoe, Izuku. He was your boyfriend. You couldn’t let Bakugo bust in here and take you—no matter how much you wanted him to.

Besides, were you going to let the same man that broke your heart reclaim the pieces just because you were horny?

You sighed.

“Look, Bakugo. I would really appreciate it if you just deleted the pictures and forgot about it.” You gave a distorted chuckle. “Or you could delete it and make fun of me for the next twenty years. Anything, you want.”

“I want you prince/ss—“

You hissed at the nickname.

“Baby…”—you couldn’t even be bothered to stress over the pet name—"Please go back. From what I hear, you're breaking twenty-five state laws and twenty-four federal ones. It’s two in the morning and we both have to be at work in five hours. And I don’t wanna deal with the paparazzi if they catch you here. So go back home. For me?”

Choice words flew from his lips. Then there was the sound of tires screeching to a halt. Bakugo heavily exhaled.

“Damn you, Y/N. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

Relief came as a nervous chuckle. You placed your hand on your chest. “Thank you and, again, I’m so sorry. We can laugh about this later today. And—“

“But you still haven’t answered my question.”

You inhaled sharply at the curt tone of his voice.

“W-what question?”

“Are you wet?”

#katsuki bakugou #mha drabble #bnha scenarios #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #midoriya izuku #izuku x reader #izuku x y/n #I can't even blame you for being a lil stupid #katsuki has demon dicc #2.5k follower event and celebration!

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turtle-paced · 3 years

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A:tLA Re-Watch: Fine-Toothed Comb Edition

Warning for a heavy episode. This brightly-coloured family show full of optimists and strange critters has a setting built on a genocide.

Book 1, Chapter 3 - The Southern Air Temple

(0:55) Previously on Avatar, Katara and Sokka found Aang in an iceberg. They realised he was there for a hundred years, making him the last known airbender. Katara and Aang decide to go to the North Pole to learn waterbending, Zuko in pursuit.

(1:43) The establishing shot here tells us that we’ve come a decent distance from the South Pole already. There’s no ice in sight.

(1:50) However, Katara is still in a thick winter coat. Partly this has got to be because she doesn’t have other clothing. This is still worth keeping track of, as the recurring cast often change their outfits (according to the weather and cultural demands), usually while keeping the same general ‘look’. There are, however, exceptions.

(1:59) Katara gently tries to manage Aang’s expectations. She still has more information than Aang does about recent history, but what she says here in the face of Aang’s excitement is, “A lot can change in all that time.” This episode will get into showing us the double-edged nature of Katara’s greatest virtue and deepest flaw. Which, in the tradition of many excellent characters (and definitely in keeping with the main cast of the entire series), is the same character trait.

Meanwhile, poor Aang. What an optimist he is - his reaction to learning that he woke up a hundred years in the future is to race home and see how everything’s changed, because it might be really cool and he wants to show his home off to his new friends! In some ways it’s really easy to look past how well Aang handles waking up a hundred years in the future. He’s not openly preoccupied by the fact that it’s likely that everyone he knew and loved is dead, but concentrating on the good stuff he has right this minute.

Like Katara, Aang’s greatest flaw is an extension of his greatest virtue. Aang is fantastic at focusing on the here and now, on the positives of his situation, on keeping his spirits up. Though as we’ll see, this is vitally important in how he stands up under incredible pressures, we’ll also see him ignore real and potential problems coming down the track. Like right here, when despite knowing how shocked everyone was to see an airbender, he ignores Katara’s hint that he’s not going to like what he finds here.

(2:17) Sokka is definitely a teenage boy. Lots of sleep and lots of food required.

(2:27) “There’s a prickle snake in your sleeping bag!” What I’m taking from this is that the fauna of Avatar world was still a work in progress at this point, because they’re not talking about echidna-snakes or porcu-snakes or hedgehog-snakes.

(2:36) We pan over a shipyard full of clearly Fire Navy ships. Even before the details of the flag come in view, there’s the industrialisation, there’s that harsh colour palette, there are those spiky, spiky ships. Plus there’s the horn. The production team is training us to associate these things with Fire Nation.

(2:39) Then the pan across hits Zuko’s ship. This is some brilliant recontextualising of the threat Zuko posed in the previous two episodes. The ships in dock at this timestamp are to Zuko’s ship what Zuko’s ship was to Katara, Sokka, and Aang last episide. It’s also visibly more battered than the others. Yet Zuko is a prince! Three seconds, not a word spoken, and the show’s visually raised some questions about Zuko’s relationship to his nation’s war effort.

Also worth mentioning is the fact that in this episode, Zuko’s ship is a noticeably lighter shade than Zhao’s black metal fleet. Still the bad guys, but that one’s a solid tip that Zuko is the less bad guy. Combined with the aforementioned beat-up ship, this recontextualises Zuko himself. Katara later says that when she thought of the face of the enemy, it’s Zuko she thought of - but the viewer’s got more information than she does, and can see he’s not the operator of the war machine.

(2:48) Zuko orders Iroh not to discuss the Avatar in Fire Nation territory, thus indicating for us that the Fire Nation characters are not all working together for the same goals.

(3:00) “Captain Zhao.” “It’s Commander now.” Another quality introduction! Zuko’s address of Zhao by the incorrect rank shows he’s out of the loop. Zhao’s correction shows us the upwards movement and the importance of his own power to him, the pleasure he takes in this emphasised by the acting. Five words!

The show follows this up by giving some context on Iroh. Zhao greets Iroh as a general and “great hero” of the nation, but where pretty much the first thing out of Zhao’s mouth was “Commander Zhao,” Iroh says that he’s retired, deflecting the praise of his previous career. Zhao also helpfully exposits that Iroh is the Fire Lord’s brother, so we’re clear that Iroh is Zuko’s paternal relation. We haven’t had the same signalling that the Fire Nation is patriarchal that we’ve had with the Water Tribes thus far (we haven’t actually seen a female Fire Nation character yet, and won’t for a while), so it’s still a little hard to know where Iroh stands vis-a-vis inheritance.

(3:10) Zhao refers to the harbour as his harbour. While it saves the writers having to come up with a disposable place name, it again goes to indicate Zhao’s possessiveness of authority.

(3:21) In something that will eventually provide an excellent contrast with Azula, Zuko shows himself to be a terrible liar. Iroh’s not much better. Not in this situation. Man can keep his secrets, but I suspect the real secret is never being asked difficult questions.

(3:47) A rare instance of Iroh hauling Zuko up short and flat up telling him what to do. Show respect. A bigger deal once you know Zuko got a fireball to the face for being disrespectful/‘disrespectful’ in a meeting with military figures. However, given that Zhao controls the harbour, probably necessary for Iroh to step in.

(4:10) Sokka complains about a lack of food supplies. We don’t always need to know where the gAang is getting food, because the show reliably brings up supplies when they’re an issue. We’ll also see this as an issue more in season one, when Katara and Sokka are still getting used to travelling. By the time we hit season three, the group is much more confident in their ability to secure supplies even in areas they don’t know well.

On top of this, Aang’s use of Sokka’s jerky as kindling is the first part of the understated running gag that Aang just does not like Southern Water Tribe cuisine. Vegetarianism aside.

(4:40) Katara gets a bit more blunt about what’s likely at the Southern Air Temple. This is the first mention of the fact that Katara and Sokka’s as-yet-unnamed mother was killed in a Fire Nation raid. Remarkably for a kids’ show, they actually say that Kya was killed and discuss the fact that the Fire Nation might have killed all the airbenders.

For Aang’s part, this is a bit repetitive, but the new info about Katara’s family situation keeps the plot and character development moving along.

(4:58) At the same time, for all the flack he gets about being naive, Aang’s rebuttal isn’t “people wouldn’t be so cruel!”, he’s arguing that the Air Temples are literally inaccessible without airbending in some form and that therefore death on the scale Katara thinks might have taken place is logistically impossible.

(5:20) The setting design in this series is amazing, and the Southern Air Temple is actually kind of meh by the series’ later standards (Western Air Temple is where it’s at, IMO). That said, you wonder how much pre-war architecture outside the North and South Poles was a joint effort between different types of benders. In a really nice detail, you can see the airball field from this shot.

(5:36) “And by year’s end, the Earth Kingdom capital will be under our rule.” Zhao implicitly puts the series on a timetable here, even before we get the details.

Tellingly, when we pan out, Zuko is not engaged in this assessment. He’s literally got his back turned. He’s doing bad things for bad reasons, but it’s not naked imperialism fuelling his determination. We’ll get into what Zuko thinks about the war effort a bit more in season two, when he starts actually thinking about the Fire Nation’s war, more critically and carefully than he expresses in his next line.

In the meantime, a) it’s the height of privilege that Zuko can turn his back on this and b) I do wonder if Zuko’s criticism of his father here wasn’t some early instalment weirdness, with the writers not having quite nailed down the dynamics between Zuko and his parental figures.

(5:48) “Two years at sea have done little to temper your tongue.” So! First, more timeline for us. Second, the implication here is that Zuko was known to be outspoken. Imprudently outspoken.

(6:03) Once again Zuko can’t lie very well, but unlike that moment when he was just getting off the ship, this isn’t played for laughs. Zuko can’t lie very well, and that’s serious. Also, Zhao confirms the Air Nomad genocide over here in the B-plot, while over in the A-plot we’re still waiting for that painful shoe to drop. Builds tension - it’s not just Katara’s suspicions anymore, but straight from the mouth of a Fire Nation commander.

(6:19) Can’t help but notice that Zhao is a firm believer in the Avatar’s power. The man has done his spirit research.

(6:23) “If you have an ounce of loyalty left, you’ll tell me what you found.” More implications that Zuko is not perceived to be totally on board with broader Fire Nation goals. If he was, why would his loyalty be in question?

(6:38) Zhao halts Zuko here as his men report that they interrogated Zuko’s own soldiers offscreen. So this entire thing was never about how well Zuko could lie, but Zhao giving Zuko enough rope to hang himself. Zhao ends up being lower stakes and lower competence compared to the endgame villains, but man, even now, the villains of this show do not mess around.

(7:06) Speaking of early-instalment weirdness, not sure the writers worked out quite what to do with Sokka this episode. He’s basically a running gag in this episode, almost entirely lacking in depth and nuance. Almost entirely - I’ll point out those moments when we get to them.

(7:22) For all Aang believed his people might be alive, he can’t deny the emptiness of the temple.

(7:33) There we go! There’s the depth from Sokka that repeated “I’m hungry” gags don’t get through. Sokka sees that Aang is depressed, and asks a question about something Aang genuinely enjoys. Followed by the cut to Aang thoroughly kicking Sokka’s ass at a sport designed for airbenders.

(7:53) Sokka let Aang kick his ass at an airbending sport for seven rounds.

(8:06) More nuance from Sokka as he and Katara find evidence of Fire Nation soldiers on temple grounds. He says that he and Katara should tell Aang, but when Katara decides otherwise, he doesn’t overrule her and force the confrontation. He respects that Katara’s got the better relationship with Aang. At the same time, his call-out of her failure to tell Aang is a pretty gentle one that recognises why she doesn’t want to tell him.

This is what I mean by Katara’s greatest strength also being one of her most severe character flaws. She’s so driven to help and protect the people she cares about - but this occasionally veers into being overprotective.

(8:49) Sokka continues to argue that Katara should tell Aang after the cut. Goes to show some of the differences between the siblings. Katara puts her friend’s feelings first, Sokka prioritises truth and facts. Handled badly, I’m sure we can all see how this could be extremely sexist storytelling.

Here, though, the story appreciates that the harsh truth of what happened to the Air Nomads is unimaginably harsh, and should be broken appropriately. Aang needs to know the truth, and Aang deserves emotional consideration for the impact of that truth. Katara’s not wrong to be sensitive about a sensitive subject; she’s just wrong in taking that last step in lying by omission.

(8:57) Aang introduces Monk Gyatso via statue, so we have some idea of Aang’s family situation. Note the outfit.

(9:06) Cut from the solemn and wise statue to Gyatso imparting important cake-baking airbending techniques to Aang. These are some priorities I can get behind. And frankly you can see the similarity between the teacher who uses airbending to help with baking, to Aang who uses airbending to get bison snot out of clothes. Practical, everyday use.

(9:22) “The only mistake [the monks] made was telling you before you turned sixteen.” More implications! Aang was told about being the Avatar very young. Reasoning left obscure. It’s also giving some texture to the Air Nomads; they’re not idealised, but capable of making ordinary human mistakes right off the bat.

(9:29) “We must act on what is,” Monk Gyatso says, which is also clearly something else Aang took to heart. The pan over the Southern Air Temple as it was a hundred years ago is also pretty heartbreaking, with all the greenery, and the bison, and the people.

(9:47) Next plot flag, guide for Aang in the inner sanctuary.

(10:08) I strongly disapprove of wasted cake. Though as we see, Gyatso was trying to maintain Aang’s sense of fun and improve his aim, both of which are legitimate goals.

(10:54) Aaaaand Sokka’s back to being a food joke.

(11:58) More hints at Zuko’s status given that Commander Zhao feels pretty safe calling the Fire Lord’s son pathetic.

(12:10) This gives us another layer of complexity in Zuko’s plot this season. He’s now competing with Zhao to find the Avatar. More than that, he’s the underdog here, compared to the much better resourced Zhao.

This is some vital positioning to maintain audience engagement in the heel part of Zuko’s slow heel-face-turn, where the risk is people turning off Zuko as he does bad things for bad reasons. We don’t meet Zhao from Aang, Katara, and Sokka’s point of view, where he’d be pretty similar to Zuko in some important ways. We meet Zhao from Zuko’s PoV, so we’re clear on how Zuko is better by comparison, and so we barrack for Zuko to continue to show those better qualities.

(12:30) In a rare background detail failure, not many of these Avatar statues appear to depict female Avatars.

(13:07) A characterisation detail for Aang I like. Upon realising that every statue here depicts one of his past lives, he doesn’t appear to feel it as an oppressive weight - no, he treats it as a Cool Thing.

Meanwhile, Sokka doesn’t believe in reincarnation. While hanging out with the Avatar.

(13:21) Our first look at Roku. (Next to him, it’s Very Definitely Not Kyoshi. Early instalments!)

(13:31) And the exposition! Now we know who it was vanished from that spire in the intro.

(13:45) The show frames Aang’s knowledge of Roku’s name as a sign of their connection, past life to reincarnation. Personally, I would have thought that especially in Aang’s time, people would have been quite likely to know the name of the previous Avatar. Given that Katara and Sokka were both born a hundred odd years after Roku died, and grew up in a very isolated place, I can believe that they wouldn’t have known Roku’s name.

(14:00) Even in the middle of the Southern Air Temple, the kids immediately hide when they hear footsteps and see a shadow, assuming it’s a firebender approaching. That’s how cautious they are already.

(14:17) Introducing Momo!

(15:23) What starts riling Zuko up here is Zhao treating him as inconsequential. Kid covers up his deep-seated self-worth issues by insisting on the external validation.

(15:33) Aside from Zhao emphasising the disparity in his and Zuko’s respective resources, Zhao also tells us that Zuko is formally banished.

(15:38) But then Zhao gets to the heart of Zuko’s issues. “Your own father doesn’t even want you.” We’ve seen this episode that Zuko’s got the one battered little ship. We know from the previous episodes that Zuko needs to capture the Avatar, and heard his desire to return home. Now we get the concrete info that Zuko’s dad kicked him out.

Again, this is all important in setting up Zuko’s long arc. This kid is being treated horribly by a representative of his own nation. The viewers are already being given reasons not to want to see Zuko defeated, but to want him to get out.

(15:47) When Zuko maintains that his father will welcome him home with honour if he just captures the Avatar, Zhao immediately undermines that idea by telling Zuko that if his father really wanted him, he’d’ve just rescinded the banishment without conditions. He’s Fire Lord, he can do that. This is another case of both sides being right here! Ozai does eventually welcome Zuko home with honour for ‘killing the Avatar’ - but by then Zuko’s got an inkling that Ozai’s acceptance is 100% conditional, and his father does not truly want Zuko back or care for him as a person. Because if he did care about Zuko as a person, he’d never have done any of the things he did in Zuko’s backstory.

(16:01) Zhao says that Zuko’s scar proves he’s a failure and a disgrace. Details left out. It’s enough to connect Zuko’s scar with his banishment, though.

(16:07) The introduction of Agni Kai, which is clearly a duel.

(16:17) Iroh asks Zuko if he remembers the last time he challenged a master. Zuko replies in the affirmative as we pan from the unscarred side of his face to the scarred side. Again, implications. Combined with Zhao’s earlier comments about Zuko’s time at sea not tempering his tongue, we actually have a decent picture of the events leading up to Zuko’s banishing, here in episode three. We definitely have the implications that Zuko said something, fought a duel against a master, lost (or he wouldn’t be a failure), and was scarred.

The show won’t confirm this for another ten episodes. But the backstory’s there.

(16:32) Meanwhile, back in the A plot, Aang chases Momo around the ruins of the Southern Air Temple.

(16:41) And comes across a rather grisly sight for a kids’ show. There are a lot of bodies in the room Aang walks into, arranged so it’s clear this was no accident.

(16:49) Gets worse as Aang spots Gyatso’s distinctive necklace (which was in focus on the statue earlier). There’s no good way to find this out, but Aang stumbled into the scene of his parental figure’s violent demise. Again, with the context of ‘The Storm’, this is way, way worse. It was already bad.

(17:07) Aang is understandably distraught, and unfortunately distraught untrained Avatar = Avatar state.

(17:22) As Katara wanders through the sanctuary and its depictions of past Avatars, she sees the eyes of the statues light up and knows that something’s up with Aang.

(17:26) Cut to elsewhere (definitely Earth Kingdom), followed by what must be the Northern Water Tribe, and the Fire Nation, where their depictions of Avatars are also lit up. Note that the Earth Kingdom’s mural definitely looks more like Kyoshi.

(17:35) The sages at the Fire Nation temple spell it out - this is inarguable proof that the Avatar’s back. Again ups some tension for us. The Avatar’s return is now public knowledge, and we know more people than Zuko and Zhao will be after our protagonists.

(18:03) When not reduced to a running gag, Sokka is already super quick on the uptake - he put together that Aang discovered his mentor’s corpse from the outfit, too, it seems.

(18:35) Iroh instructs Zuko to remember his firebending basics. We’ve already heard one - the breath.

(18:50) This fight scene helps us do some assessment of how dangerous Zuko and Zhao are in straight fights. Initial threat scaling - we’ll get more information over the course of the season. In the meantime, enjoy the choreography! One of the reasons the fight scenes are great is because the writers and animators did their research into the martial arts styles that bending is based on; another is because they don’t lose sight of the fact that characters are involved, with differing temperaments, goals, and skill sets. Avatar fight scenes convey character as well as progress plot.

Over the brief course of this fight we see Zuko start very aggressively, lose breath control, and get reminded to break Zhao’s footwork. That is, he’s not paying attention to Iroh’s basics. When Zhao counterattacks, Zuko’s defensive work is noticeably weaker than Zhao’s, basically tanking the fireballs on his forearms and torso while he gets pushed backwards (Zhao manages to break fireballs apart or split them well in front of him and away from his core, without losing ground).

(19:40) We can see Zuko’s fear as someone aims a fireball at his face. But with that, he turns the tables, gets up, and starts a counter-counterattack. Aimed at Zhao’s feet, as Iroh said to do. Zuko does not win this fight on skill alone - he wins because when he gets knocked down, he gets back up and tries again, applying the lesson of his previous mistakes. Could this be Zuko’s arc in miniature? I think it might be!

(20:15) Given a free shot at Zhao, Zuko declines to so much as scorch one of his earlobes. A gesture Zhao was not willing to make bare seconds ago, and going by the scar, also not a mercy extended by Zuko’s previous opponent. This is why he’s the less bad guy right now - Zuko’s not hurting people, not even his enemies, just because he can.

(20:29) Cheap shot from Zhao there, so we know he’s not one to accept when he’s lost.

(20:32) Completely cancelled by Iroh, out of fucking nowhere, who effortlessly knocks Zhao on his ass. Like I said, initial threat scaling. Early season one, the extent of Iroh’s abilities are hinted at rather than showcased.

(20:52) “Even in exile, my nephew is more honourable than you,” Iroh says. He also thanks Zhao for the tea.

(21:03) “Did you really mean that, Uncle?” Zuko asks, once they’re out of Zhao’s earshot. There speaks a young man who does not often get positive feedback from anyone, and who can’t believe someone was sincere about their public praise.

(21:08) Iroh implies that he meant it, without explicitly saying so. It’s graceful - gives Zuko that confirmation, but doesn’t put Zuko in a place where he has to accept a compliment he’s not ready for or equipped to handle.

(21:15) Meanwhile, back at the A-plot, we’re seeing Katara at her best. It’s true that her desire to protect Aang didn’t work and didn’t help. We don’t leave off on the ‘greatest weakness’ part, but on the ‘greatest strength’ part. She empathises with Aang’s pain and offers of herself to help Aang. “Sokka and I - we’re your family now.” Without hesitation.

(21:38) The Water Tribe siblings step closer to each other for reassurance once the threat of being blown off the mountain has receded. Little things like that show you how close Katara and Sokka are.

(21:46) Again, Sokka’s got Katara’s back in her decision that Aang is now family. He doesn’t initiate like Katara does, but he’s on board.

(21:53) The first thing Aang says is “I’m sorry.” I can’t help but think that the uncontrolled Avatar State must really, really suck for Aang. It’s not gone into in any detail, but how bad must he feel that he endangered his new friends and further damaged the temple? His first words here are to apologise to others, rather than continuing to manage his own grief.

Aang is a very thoughtful person in many ways.

(22:03) Not stupid, though, as he can see that if the Fire Nation targeted the Southern Air Temple, chances are good they got to the others as well. Katara hugs him as he tries to deal with the fact that he is the last airbender.

(22:17) Aang emphasises the fact that he’s going to need some help from Roku. Just throwing that out there for future plot.

(22:44) “You, me, and Appa are all that’s left of this place,” Aang says with what seems rather likely to be a faked smile. He and Katara laugh at the newly-named Momo’s theft of Sokka’s fruit.

(23:04) But the fact that this doesn’t erase Aang’s grief is emphasised by the end of episode, where he silently watches the ruined and empty Southern Air Temple recede into the distance. Even though he’s good at putting up a front and focusing on the good things that are, the loss of his home and people will underpin Aang’s character for the rest of the series.

This episode is a damned important one, and the importance comes out more when looked at holistically rather than my running commentary above. For Katara and Sokka, this episode gives the key detail of their mother’s death, and gives them that solid and explicit emotional commitment to Aang that will provide them with motivation for sticking with him all series, but this isn’t their episode.

This episode kicks Aang out of his past and locks Aang into the hero’s journey in the A-plot. Meanwhile, in the B-plot, it sets Zuko up not as a primary villain, but as a deuteragonist, catching us up on how he too has been kicked out of home and left to quest. This episode shows us why neither protagonist nor deuteragonist can go home again.

#a:tla #cw: violence #cw: abuse #fine toothed comb edition

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blissfulalchemist · 3 years

Note

“ you made it look so damned easy to leave me. ” + twc kids xx

Ah Thank you Stella! Some angst but nothing detrimental but we’re dealing with an ex so there’s that. I hope you enjoy a little back story as timeline wise this would take place just before main game events.

It’s the worst type of weather, always had been for Hayat, the sky grey chilling the air and the clouds holding back the rain desperate to fall, combining into a sticky cold day. Always the second week of April every year without fail, a constant in this small town. Normally, Hayat would have been inside still, inviting others on the police force to have lunch in his “office” so they could all relax and have fun for a little while, not today though as he forgot his lunch and the lack of breakfast made the vending machines no longer an option for the day. So here he was, walking down Main Street unsure of where to get a decent lunch and starting to freeze, he should have brought a beanie with him today.

It’s the familiar scent of grains of paradise that slows him down. It comes from a new restaurant, open only a few weeks, one he’s been wanting to try, hoping to have a little bit of home closer to where his home is now. No time like the present, he thinks making his way to the door, blowing on his hands for some warmth.

His speed picks up the closer he comes to the door, inattentive to another customer walking out. Their eyes are focused on their phone, running straight into Hayat, the two of them almost falling over.

“Oh. Sorry man, didn’t-,” Hayat’s words catch in his throat as he identifies just whom he ran into.

Bobby Marks.

Despite the glasses Bobby wears now, Hayat would know the dark blonde hair anywhere with it being the same style since they first met in college, short along the sides and enough length at the top to spike it up with some kind of hair gel or wax depending on the weather, It would have been wax on a day like today. Bobby brushed himself off, giving Hayat a lopsided smile, “Don’t worry about it, handsome,” Hayat repressed the growl at the old nickname, “Surprised to see you out at this time.”

“Just needed some lunch,” he took a step to the side, the reporter following him, “so if you don’t mind,” Hayat tried once again to make his way into the restaurant.

“Maybe we could eat together,” Bobby stepped closer, “just like old times.”

Hayat scoffed, “‘Like old times’.” He shook his head, crossing his arms, “What do you want?”

“Who says I want anything?”

He rolled his eyes, Don’t be difficult, “Because it’s you, Bobby. You always want something from me. Whether it be some story, information, or privileges there’s always some ulterior motive with you when it comes to me.”

“Maybe I just want to have lunch with you,” Bobby shrugged, “especially since we’d be having the same food.”

Not any more, Hayat turned on his heel, “You know what, I'm actually not that hungry anymore.”

“Bull. Shit,” Bobby spat out, moving to keep pace with the officer, “You can’t lie to me, I know you better than that.”

“The fuck does it matter to you anyway?” Hayat stuffed his fists into the pockets of his jacket, “I don’t like hanging out with you unless absolutely necessary and this,” he stopped looking down on the journalist, “isn’t necessary.”

Bobby glared at him, clenching his jaw, “You know what I don’t understand with you? How you act like I didn’t ever love you when the exact opposite is true.”

Hayat rolled his eyes grumbling, “Could have fooled me.”

“It’s the truth Hayat,” Bobby pleaded, stopping himself as soon as the words left his mouth. He shook his head, “Why am I even arguing with you about this? You were the one that made it look so damn easy to leave me.” Hayat flinched, crossing his arms, “Don’t look at me like that. You think I didn’t see the traveling,” Trying to find a way back home, “the new relationships,” It was the only way to stave off the loneliness and feel something, “all of it leading to this shiny job that everyone says you’re just born to do. ‘Just like his old man, Rook!’ that’s what they all say.”

Hayat laughed, mouth thinning as he paced in a slow circle, “Easy, right. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself all these years?” He shook his head running a hand through his dark hair, “Bobby, leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve had to do. I loved you. Leaving was the last thing I wanted to do, but what was I supposed to do? You screwed me over to a point that I had to make a new life with new passions from scratch.”

“That was never my intention,” he snapped, “You could have stayed. I could have helped you find something. I could have taken care of you.”

“Taken-? No! I didn’t need to be taken care of and like hell I’d let you be the one to do that.”

“Fine. But you didn’t have to leave me still. We still could have had a life together, you and me,” he jabbed a finger into Hayat’s chest, “but you were the one that threw us away.”

Hayat shook his head, pushing Bobby’s hands away, “No, I didn’t. That was you, the minute you decided to frame me like the coward you are. You threw our relationship away, not me.”

“How was I supposed to know that they’d strip you of your academic accomplishments! You were so nice and good, you never broke a rule in your life! I thought they’d go easy on you, Hiya.” Bobby bit his lower lip, “I’m sorry they didn’t.”

“What kind of universe are you living in that made you think they’d go easy on me, Bobby?” The journalist looked at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck fumbling for a response, “Look, I don’t know if you’ve cared to notice but I’m not like you,” he kept his breathing even, his voice rising in volume, “There’s a reason I never broke a rule, why I had to be so nice to people that I would have loved to have avoided in any other situation. The reason? Because it was hard enough to get past the assumptions on what my education would be used for, getting past the sneers by some of the other students as the fear mongering grew once again, and to top it off the department head had been looking for just about anything to use as an excuse to get me out of there since day one,” The racist bastard. “So yeah, I can be as mad as I want about it because you, of all people, should have known what they would do to someone like me.” Hayat’s fists shook, taking a deep breath, he just had to calm down, He’s not worth the fight. Not worth getting this angry over, “You're just selfish and that’s all you ever will be.”

Hayat finally turned away from him, stalking towards the station, hearing Bobby call out, “I wouldn’t have come back if that were true you know!”

Hayat scoffed, grumbling, “What fucking bullshit. Only here cause you figured the job was easy,” And that I was still easy to manipulate.

“There’s something bigger going on here! You’ll need me one day! Just you watch,” Bobby called out, He’s just wanting to get under my skin, Hayat thought as he walked faster, eyes focused on the cobblestone below.

“I’ll never need him. Never did to begin with,” he mumbled nearing the edge of the park. He just needed a bit of a walk before heading back to the station, he could use the cool down. The station would be fine without him if he was late and if it wouldn’t be then he carried a phone for a reason. It wasn’t long before the trail became uneven, Hayat glancing up, he’d made his way towards the woods surrounding the town. He paused, letting out a long breath, whispers of fog leaving him, “Guess I start heading back,” he whispered, turning a one-eighty on his heel. The shaking had stopped, his head becoming clear once more, shoulders starting to hang and feel sore, stomach cramping with hunger. “Little deli by the station it is, I guess.”

The focus he held for the ground below him didn’t give any leeway to notice the person nearing him, not like the stranger paid much mind either as he worked to light a cigarette. Their shoulders connected, Hayat stumbling back a few steps while the dark haired stranger stayed in place. “Watch where you’re going,” he growled out, Hayat getting the briefest look at the man already stanturing away. He had to be new in town, or just passing through, his dark olive toned skin showing some time in the sun, Probably on vacation somewhere exotic. How lucky. His shoulder length hair blew softly in the breeze that picked up, Hayat rolling his eyes, Probably gets to just use some dollar store shampoo for upkeep I bet.

He let out a sigh, eyes catching the bright white carton on the dirt trail. He bent down to pick it up, the structure still stiff and showing little wear on the edges, a near brand new box. Hayat couldn’t help but glance inside the box, half the cigarettes already gone, Good luck to him in five years. “Hey wait up,” he called out, jogging the small distance between them, “You dropped these.”

The man turned slightly looking at Hayat's outstretched hand, quickly grabbing the box. “Thanks,” he said simply, walking away from him and pocketing the carton before Hayat could utter a response. With one last look, he gave a shrug, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket making his way back to the station, where Tina waited for him with a small meal from Haley’s bakery.

“Heard about your run in,” she said with a sympathetic smile, “You know if you need help in learning how to ignore him, I’d be more than happy to teach you.” She sat on the edge of his desk, leg swinging beneath her, “Can’t tell you how many people I’ve had to do that for.”

Hayat laughed, “Oh I wouldn’t be surprised with you, Tina,” her jaw dropped, giving him a small slap on the shoulder with a smile. He gave her a light push off the desk, the two of them laughing a moment more as he opened up his lunch. “Thank you, Tina. You’re a good friend.” She posed, batting her eyelashes with a big grin she couldn’t contain, Hayat giving a chuckle, “Alright Miss America, go and get what we need for patrol before you make me regret saying it.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain,” she said with a salute, laughing as she made her way to the other side of the building.

#but I love my boy so much! Thank you Stella!#I am sadly nothing more than someone that sticks close to canon with changing what I don't like #hayat khademi oc #will also be reblogged no more than three times in 24 hrs sorry #I just feel nervous about posting this #twc oc #twc detective oc #twc detective #the wayhaven chronicles

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plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

Crumbling Attitude

Warnings: Mommy kink

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: Yall remember when they would call Shigaraki a man child? Yeah, this is that (hopefully) (also i took the mommy kink and went with it so yeah)

Tomura sits at his desk, controller in hand as he plays a level. His hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, bits and strands peeking out as the loose shirt he wears drapes over his frame, black sweatpants clinging onto his skin. His tongue sticks out between his lips, the tip of his pink muscle clenched between his teeth as fingers move rapidly against the controller, pads of fingers pressing down with a forceful grip and an all too familiar jingle rings out and makes you wince in reaction. You look up and from your phone and see that he has lost, his character laid flat and still and you when your eyes dart to his lazily, with a quick in your brows you’re surprised to see him so calm. The previous times that he’s lost, he’s thrown a fit, the controller gripped too tight until the plastic begins to creak and curses spat out with a venom taste as he loses. And yet, now he remains still, muscles tense and tongue slipping back in as he shuts the game off and places the controller on the desk. His fingers curl into his palms and you watch as his knuckles pale, and when he releases his hands, he lets out a loud breath, eyes pinching and mouth pulled into a tight line.

You call his name, a hint of concern laced into your voice and he rises from the desk and walks to the bed where you lay watching him with careful eyes. The bed groans under his weight, knees digging into the mattress, hands careful to keep a finger raised above the duvet, and when he comes down to lie next to you, he places his hand above your stomach, indexes raised precariously. He curls up, bringing his knees forward and looks up at you with heavy bags under his eyes, the fingers that touch your shirt start to drum in a loose rhythm. You tilt your head and give him a small smile before returning to your phone, fingers typing away.

“You doing okay Tomura?” You ask, narrowing your eyes and clicking your phone off when there is nothing interesting to view.

“I lost,” he grumbles, hand curling and clutching your shirt, and with wide eyes you glance down and watch as your shirt fades into dust.

“Tomura,” you warn, placing your phone down on your night stand, eyes narrowing.

“Come on, I lost. Treat me for the day,” he says with a nasally voice, removing his hand and rolling onto his back, legs spreading and knees bending. “I think I deserve it.” He tilts his head to look up at you, pale, blue hair frames and covers an eye, obscuring his view. His hand reaches to grab onto yours, stretching it until it cannot, letting your hand linger on the space where his chest and abdomen meet. “I’ll be a good boy.”

You scoff and carefully rise from the bed, chest bent forward as dust spills onto the floor, catching between the space of your bra. The hand on his body slides away, as you pat gently against your chest, turning around to lift the band to have the dust fall unceremoniously onto the floor and when you turn, he doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. You bite down a scowl and begin to dust the bed, jumping back as the dust rises and makes you sneeze. “Yeah, and I deserve a shirt.” You look at him again and narrow your eyes. “What’s with you? You aren’t usually so-” you swallow the word you want to say and replace it with something softer- “moody. Is it really the game?” You come to sit on the bed, raising your hand and watching as it stains in a faint color of gray.

“Long day,” he grumbles, upper lip curling into a scowl. “I’m-” he turns to look at you and his eyes glance down to your chest- “Can I lay down on your lap?” He rises to sit with his legs crossed in front of him, hands rested in front of him with pinkies up and with a tilt of his head and wide smile that looks a bit too perverse, he looks adorable.

“Am I getting a new shirt?” You ask, stretching your legs in front of you, patting your lap. He rolls his eyes and nods, placing his head on your lap, his face facing your stomach and hands slipping between your thighs, thumbs raised and fingers warmed between your thighs. “Are you cold?”

“No,” he says truthfully, turning his head to peck at you. “Why do you ask?” You aren’t given time to answer until he’s asking in a sweet voice for you to pet his head, inching closer to you, the pads of his fingers pressing into the soft skin of your thighs.

“You’re being awfully cute,” you mention, your hands curling around the top of his head, nails dragging against his scalp. “Is there something you want?” Your nails start from the side of his head, pushing forward, strands of hair tugging along until they fall into loose waves around his ear. “Or am I just lucky today?”

“Ask me again in five minutes,” he mumbles, a hand slipping away from your thighs to go and disappear between his legs.

“Oh,” you realize with a small rise of your eyebrows. “You’re needy.” Your hand stills above his head, resting against the back of his head, hand slowly coming together, strands of hair fisted and knotted between your fingers. “Is that it? Did I guess correctly?” Your smile curls, thinning and stretched across your face.

“You’re acting smug,” he says in a gruff voice, thumb pressing against the thin material of your leggings and you click your tongue, hand fisting in his hair. “Get rid of the attitude.”

“You know you’re acting like a brat, right?” Your hand pulls on his hair in a light tug, a slight warning as you raise your legs, his hand raising and patting against your thighs, eyes closed as the dust scatters away from you. “Now you owe me leggings too.” He remains silent under you, turning to rest on his stomach, face buried in the crevice between your thighs. There’s a sharp click, soft shuffling of fabric against each other, scratching dully and sounding the room; his knees meet the bed in a sharp pose, his breath hot against you, moistening your skin. His teeth nip at your thighs in a soft bite, lapping it over with his tongue. Your hand tightens around his hair and you pull him up, a sharp gasp ghosting past his lips as his neck cranes. “Now, now Tomura, what do you think you’re doing?” You coo, voice sickly sweet.

“I’m-” he curses under his breath and lets out a harsh sigh, his hand leaving under his thighs and raising flat in the air in a surrender sign- “needy.”

Your hand tightens around him. “Well, I’m glad you realized that, sweetheart, but you do realize that you just destroyed my clothes, right?” You move his head to nod and you hum pleasantly. “Well I’m glad you understand that.” Your hand softens, losing just a bit for him to lower his head. “And now what? You want to hump me?” He squirms at the words and you scoff at the small buck of his hips against the mattress. “That’s cute,” you mutter under your breath, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, letting his hair go. The dust falls from your skin with each pat of your hands. “I mean, not cute enough to make up for the fact that you dusted my clothes, but cute nonetheless.”

“Look, I’ll get you news ones-” his hands come to cup your breasts, index fingers raised and stretched outward, palms pressing against the lace detail of your bra- “just, come on. Let’s do what we do,” he says in a pleading voice, high and whiny, fingers coming past the edge of the bra, nails grazing by your nipples. “Please.”

Your body is coated in a light layer of dust that won’t shake off, coating your body in a pale gray. His hands glide on your skin, tickling at your sides with the coarse pads of his fingertips, nails that snag on your skin and leave faint marks where he presses down with the palm of his hand, careful not to touch you with all his fingers. His head inches towards you, mouth forming unspoken words as his tongue peeks, wetting his lips. Calloused hands find their way to grope the underside of your breasts, perking your breasts upwards, daring to have the areolas peek between the gap between the cups.

A hand courses through his hair, eliciting a shiver to run down his spine, shoulder twitching forward as he looks at you with wide, expecting eyes, waiting for permission to latch onto you. He gasps as your hand curls around the back of his neck, the edges of your nails loose and threatening to tease at the wounds on his neck. He’s held in your grasp, completely at your will, trusting you to have your hand on him, to take control and take care of him. He swallows and he can feel his erection twitch, straining to be released from the confinements of the sweatpants, his hands curl around you, twitching and flaring as you analyze him, eyes dripping down his body, watching as his face turns a shade of red that burns and runs from his chest.

“Sweetheart?” You ask, tightening your grasp around him. He chokes out a hummed repose, cracking in the middle and elongating the noise. “You dusted my clothes. And now you have the audacity to come up and ask me for something?” Your hand holds him, cradling the back of his head and you pull on his hair, turning him on his back, arched with the pillows that decorate the bed, eyes wide and flooded with a mixture of fear and arousal, whispering your name as you sit above him, his sweatpants dusted in a light gray as loose decay covers him. Your hands slip down his chest, nails poised and teasing his nipples that pebble with the immediate, but fleeting attention. You pull at the hem of his shirt, a coquettish grin playing at your lips, as the article of clothing is removed, draped over the edge of the bed.

You’re sat above his crotch, hips swirling in a slow motion as you hold his face, lips meeting in a sensual kiss. His hands tremble as they hold you by the waist, fingers ghosting above your skin, dancing along the curve of your waist leaving phantom touches that makes your skin prickles and tingle. You press your chest close to his, your hands slipping from his face, curving around his neck that is etched in angry lines. He shudders at the touch, erection twitching under his boxers straining to be released and against the dark fabric, a spot starts to darken, growing and rubbing against you with each swirl of your hips. Your fingers graze gently at him, rubbing along the scars and curve over his collarbone, fingers dancing and trailing over to cup at his chest.

He lets out a breath and presses himself close to you, grunting at the slight relief that it provides. “Please,” he grunts out, his hands stilling and tightening around where they rest. “I’m begging.” His tongue flicks at your bottom lip, pushing past and sliding above yours. The intrusion of the muscle denies you the attempt at an answer, hands pawing at your chest, grasping at the hooks in desperate attempts to let your breasts free. He throbs underneath you, sighing and cooing, with each rut against you. His moans vibrate in your mouth, tongue spreading and running above the roof of your mouth, a thin pool of spit pools in your mouth and you pull away, licking at your lips. Tomura visibly deflates, shoulders slumping and eyes drooping. His mouth is parted and gleams with shared spit. “I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want, but can you touch me? Please?”

You tut and purse your lips. A hand leaves his chest, the racing heartbeat underneath, a fleeting memory as you grip his face in your hand. His chin held between three fingers and you force him to look at you. His face is flushed, pupils dilated and with the press of your fingers against him, he whines, thigh jerking underneath you.

“Oh, Tomura, baby,” you sigh, pecking his cheek, your lips brushing against his skin as you continue to speak, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

His hips jerk, hands tightening around you, before they let go and rest on the bed with palms up. “Yes, I do,” he says defiantly. “I want you to touch me. I want to touch- fuck!” His head dips and rests against your collarbone, mouth open and hands that fist at his side.

In between your fingers, is a soft, pert nipple that blooms in red at the treatment. “Are you talking back?” You press a kiss against him. “Hm? Are you talking back to me, sweetie?” He shakes his head, a hand coming in between the both of your bodies to rub at the erection that has yet to be sprung free. “It felt like you were. Am I wrong?” He breathes out an answer and moans as you twist the other nipple, the soft pink around him darkening into a red.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a stutter. “I just- It’s- It’s been so long and I need you.”

“Don’t you remember what you did to my clothes?” He freezes against you and mutters a soft confirmation, hands leaving him, jumping as they make contact with your skin. “Do you think you deserve to feel good?”

“Mommy, please,” he croaks in a breathless voice, panting and jerking his hips upward, with eyes shut tight. “Oh god, I promise to be good,” his voice cracks and he throws his head back, hands clawing above his thighs. His face is tinted in a blushing shade of pink, a quiver in his chest as he takes a breath.

“Honey, look at me,” you ask of him and silently he obligues, head raising slowly, eyes watery and there’s a soft pang at your heart as he looks like a kicked puppy, bottom lip trembling with glassy eyes to match. “Do you want to be a good boy?” He nods, the apple in his throat bobbing. “Say it,” you request, leaning close to him until your lips brush against his.

“I promise to be good. I want to be a good boy,” he murmurs.

“Then lay your tummy on my lap, baby boy.” You pull him in for a another kiss, guiding him backwards, his neck outstretched to meet and keep in contact with your lips, whimpering at every touch that you give him, your hands brushing along the side of his arms, grabbing and pulling down on the back of his neck and lowering him until he rests on your lap. You stroke his hair, shushing him as he squirms. “You’re going to be my good boy.” He nods in agreement to your statement, promising to be good under his breath. “All you need to do is count, okay? And then Mommy will take care of you. Do you think you can do that?” You ask in a pout, twirling a strand of his soft blue hair around your index.

“Yes, Mommy.” He shudders as your index traces down his spine, following the soft arch.

Your hands hook under the waistband of his boxers with slow movements as you remove them until they rest at his ankles and with a small pinch to his calves, he kicks them off, thanking you for the freedom. His erection is pressed against your calf and your hand rubs over the curve of his bum, following the pale colors as it dips between his legs, darkening until you meet with the red sheen of his cockhead as it oozes watery discharge against your bare leg.

“All you have to do is count.” His body pricks in goosebumps as he nods, sucking in a sharp breath as your hand leaves his body. “Relax baby,” you whisper. The room is silent for a minute, the harsh breathing coming from him is the only thing breaking the silence, until a smack fills the room followed by a sharp moan. “I didn’t hear you count,” you comment, spanking him again, smiling as a whispered ‘one’ fills the room. “A little louder next time, baby boy.”

His cries grow harsher, numbers that are broken and pained, as his erection leaks onto you, staining you in sticky fluids while his bum is marked with your handprint. The numbers grow sharper, his hips rising to meet your incoming hand and lowering against you in a pathetic rut, crying out in numbers and your name in hushed whispers, that are breathed hot against your skin.

“Th- Thirty,” he moans, pinching his legs together. His bum is painted in red, soft welts that rise and are soothed over with a rub of your palm. He flinches at the touch, shaking his head. “Mommy, ‘s hurts,” he murmurs, “no more, please.”

“Do you think you can sit baby?” He shakes his head, still underneath you save for the soft shudders as you run your hand over him. “Do you want to sit on me?” A soft plea is breathed against you. His feet plant against the floor and he waits for you to seat yourself properly against the bed, nails clawing at the side of his thighs with a tear stained face. Your eyes glance down at his erection that is painted in an angry color, oozing out with arousal and he stands so small in front of you. “Oh sweetheart, do you think you learned your lesson?” He nods, lips pulled into a pout. “What’s the lesson, baby?”

“Don’t be mean to Mommy.” He continues when you raise an expectant brow. “And don’t throw fits.” He brightens as you smile widely, clapping your hands in praise and with a look at your lap and an encouraging look, he scrambles to sit on your lap, legs over yours and face pressed against your chest.

With a simple movement, you remove your bra, letting it fall next to you on the bed. With a pat on his head, hand pushing down to a breast, his mouth latches onto a nipple, suckling it into his mouth, tongue pressed flat against the bud as he rolls it in his mouth. You take a sharp breath of air through closed teeth as your hand knits through his hair, groaning as his hips move at a fast pace against yours, cock slipping between your legs with nothing to grasp onto.

His mind is foggy, moaning against his tit-filled mouth, drool sliding between the corners of his mouth. The pink muscle twitches and flicks the pert bud, cheeks hollowing as he nurses, tongue flickering in and out, distraught to hear more of your pleasant moans. His chapped lips roll the bud around, wet, kissing noises filling the room as he sucks it in. He sighs in relief as your hips meet his, his mouth pressing open kisses against the valley of your breasts until his mouth latches onto the other teat, teeth pressing against the sensitive bud in hesitation, continuing as your press his head further down, whimpering at how your hand slides between the bodies, and wrapping around his erection, mewling against your chest.

“Is there something you want me to do with it?” He nods, nipple still encased in his mouth. “What is it? Tell Mommy what you want them to do to you.” He croons at the hand that leaves his head, fingers slipping with tendrils of hair in between.

He pops the breast off of his mouth and presses a chaste kiss against it, lips pressing down at the softness of it. “Can-” he clears his throat- “I want-” He covers his face with his hands, fingers curling and nails pressing down on his skin, red lines forming vertically and under his palms his words are muted, garbled and slurred. His eyes water, peeking between fingers, and slowly his hands lower, tracing down his face, until they wrap around his neck, eyes that dart away from you and there’s heat in your stomach, clit throbbing as you view him in his needy, whimpering state where he flushes a delicious shade of red, eyes catching with tears and a stuttering breath.

He jumps as you cup his face, your thighs pinched together with a half lidded eyes, and a grin that has curled above your teeth, smiling sickly sweet at him, running your thumb over the bottom of his face. “Suddenly lost the attitude, huh Toma-chan?” He nods, a squeak sounding in his throat. “Do you want Mommy to take care of you?” He nods again, moving his hips in attention. “What do you want? Do you want me to put your cock in my mouth? To jerk you off? To stick that sweet prick inside of Mommy?”

His breaths are ragged, goosebumps trailing on his skin and his slit leaks with pre-ejaculate trailing down his length as you speak the words into existence. He nods shakily, scarred lips breathing out a plea. “Inside Mommy,” he gasps, hands poised in front of him, hesitant to touch at your skin.

He watches as you move away from him, sitting yourself at the end of bed, raising your legs into a bend where your underwear slips past your thighs and hangs off an ankle. Your vulva squished together that shines and leaks with your own arousal. His mouth waters at the thought of you being near, to sit yourself on him and he salivates at the thought, muscles tensing and apple bobbing in his throat. He breathes your name in a low whimper, deep rises and falls of his chest as you crawl yourself towards him, hands that rest on his leg and trail to his knee, landing on his thigh, then too close to his erection for comfort, too close where he can feel the soft texture of your hands that promise him nothing but comfort. He sits and watches as you raise your hips, your sex above his, hands that cup his face until his head is angle to look up at you.

“What’s the magic word?” You smell of vanilla and peaches and he wants nothing more than to smell of it, to have himself be consumed by your sweet scent that’s intoxicating and makes it difficult to think.

“I’ll be a good boy,” he murmurs, eyes drooping and with a bum still a bit too sore for his liking, you settle on him.

Your walls envelop his cockhead in a squishy grip, sliding past and taking him in. He grunts at the feeling, teeth gritted together as he lets out a wheezy moan, eyes pinched tight as his cock is held within your walls. Your hands are on him, running through his hair, tracing at the scars on his face and neck, sliding down until they rest on the ones that adorn his chest, curved and straight, smooth and twisted and your lips burn as they brush against him, they’re hot against him, searing your touch onto him but they breath life into him, cooling him and making him feel whole with each tender kiss.

His hands grab at your breasts, watching as the skin peeks between the gaps, a pinky raised, extended towards the ceiling as you circle your hips, your moans, breathy and face pinched. Your cunt squishes, soft, shucking sounds filling the room with each movement. You’re soft inside, your walls wet and pulsing against him. His leg kicks out, straightening and bending as you tighten against him. The sound of skin against skin grows louder, his head lowered and mouth open as he drools onto your breast, watching his hand get coated in a thin layer.

His stomach burns, twisting and knotting, cock standing erect and he realizes that this is his first time with you. To be nestled deep and held delicately, to have you on top of him and be raw while his arousal leaks with the promise of his seed close. He mewls under you, shameless about how loud he is as you rock yourself, hands pinched around his nipples.

“Feels good, baby boy?” You ask, licking a stripe of his neck and blowing cool air onto him that makes his whole body give a shudder.

“Mommy, please,” his voice cracks, nails leaving marks against the top of your breasts. “Right there Mommy. It feels so good.” A heavy groan leaves lips, his head thrown back as he ruts underneath you, hips moving in a rapid pace as your cunt circles and holds onto him, feeling how your walls ooze around him, arousal slipping and splashing against the inside of his thighs. “I’ll be good- ah!” He curses, face filled with a pink blush that darkens around him, eyes that water and make his vision grow blurry. Tomura is shameless as he pleads underneath you, mouth pressing open kisses against your skin as he moans his gratitude, hands coming to claw at your back, his chin buried into your shoulder as he holds you close. “Thank you, Mommy,” he mewls in a gasping breath, shaft twitching. “I’m a good boy,” he moans, “I promise.”

You chuckle breathlessly above him, eyes starting to spring with tears as you reach your end. “Yes, you are,” you croon, pressing a kiss against the side of his head. “You’re my good boy,” you praise, scratching the back of his head, a lopsided smile taking place, hands that curl around the back of his head. “Mommy’s going to take good care of my special boy- my good, baby boy.” He whines at your words, pressing himself base deep inside of you, whining and humping against your heat, hands sliding down, leaving red lines that appear and are marked over as he scrambles to hold back onto you. “Oh my little, blushing virgin-” your hand twists around a nipple and you smile at the strangled cry- “so cute.” He cries your title, pressing himself cock twitching and with a palm that soothes over his mistreated nipple, you press a kiss against the tip of his ear. “Does the baby boy want to spill his seed inside of Mommy? Hm?” he nods and raises his hips, slamming and jerking into yours. “What kind of Mommy would I be if I didn’t treat my little virgin like a prince?”

He nods against you, tears spilling from his eyes as he moves his hips against yours, stuttering and sloppy before he stills and lowers himself, crying your name in sniffles until his teeth clamp down on your shoulder, his seed hot and thick as it spills and coats your gummy walls. He keeps himself rested, mumbling words of gratitude, hands falling limp at his side. “Thank you, Mommy.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura headcanons #bnha imagines #shigaraki x reader #i tried making him unsatisfied #but i cannot be mean to him #he is just too cute #i hope this was bratty enough #so sorry if it isnt #sfw is up next

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in-love-with-darth-vader · 4 years

Text

Star Wars as if it were like the Office! (Also i need a title, so if anyone has any ideas for that or any suggestions in general, let me know.

Also, sorry if this sucks. I don’t write very often nor have I ever written a screenplay type of thing before. I honestly just did this for fun!

PART 1

“Anakin, what are you doing?”

“I’m standing on the edge of this balcony.”

“Yes, I can see that. Why are you standing on the edge of that balcony?”

*pan to the chaos of Coruscant below; ships speeding in traffic, huge buildings, and an insanely long drop. Obi-Wan is standing behind Anakin on the part of the balcony that’s made to be stood on; Anakin is on the edge of the railing*

“Uh, well, some of the clones said there was no way that I could jump and land in one of the ships flying through the city, and I told them I definitely could, so here I am.”

*Obi-Wan looks to the camera in annoyance and disbelief; camera pans down to Anakin’s end point where Fives, Echo, and Jesse wave up to his position*

“Absolutely not. Get down from there right this instant!”

“Sorry, Master!”

*he jumps, and he is flying through the air for about two seconds when he suddenly freezes. Obi-Wan is looking down at him as he holds him mid air with the Force, slowly raising him back up to eye level*

“Anakin, you are twenty years old. Could you maybe start acting like it?”

*he drops him onto the floor; Anakin gets up and sulkingly follows Obi-Wan out of the room*

*this would be where the theme song and title card would go*

In the background: “yeah, so Obi-Wan refused to let me jump, so I had to come back here. Sorry you all waited for nothing”

*Obi-Wan turns to the camera*

So, does Anakin do this sort of thing frequently?

“Oh, yes. He doesn’t seem to care about safety or his own well-being. That’s the third time this month I’ve had to stop the Balcony Jump. And clearly I’m the only one who thinks these are bad ideas, so I’m always the one who has to step in. I swear I already have a few grey hairs from having to stop Anakin from doing something stupid so often.”

*back to normal scene*

“Alright, everyone gather around, we have a new mission to discuss.”

*anakin, ahsoka, and many of the clones from the 501st and 212th gather around Obi-Wan*

“The chancellor seems to think it’s a good idea for us to go investigate a possible takeover on Ryloth….” *fades out as we zoom in on Anakin clearly bored and not listening*

“I hate debriefings. When Obi-Wan does them he talks for forever. They’re too long, so I just tune him out and pretend like I know what I’m doing on the actual mission. When I tell the others what we’ve been assigned, I take 2 minutes tops. Master Obi-Wan stretches it into at least 10.”

*now to ahsoka*

“Yeah, Master Kenobi goes over every single detail in the mission log every single time. I’ve had to slap Anakin awake in the middle of a meeting too many times to count.”

*back to obi wan speaking to them all*

“So, we need to go in and investigate the distress signal’s purpose, mainly to see if it’s a separatist attack. Anakin, you’ll be positioned here and you’ll direct your troops to-Anakin?? Are you listening to me?”

*obi wan turns away from his whiteboard where he’s drawing out strategy to see Anakin staring slightly up at the ceiling. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed, but Obi wan knows his past-padawan turned Jedi Knight too well*

“What? Oh, yeah, of course I am.”

*interview with obi wan*

“Anakin is a terrible liar. You’ll soon find that out.”

*switch to interview with Anakin*

“Luckily for me, I’m an amazing liar, so I’m not worried.”

*back to the scene. Obi-Wan has his hands on his hips in his judgmental pose™️ facing Anakin*

“Oh really? Then what did I just tell you to do?”

“Uhhh I have to hold my position, lead the 501st, all that jazz”

“Mhm and where is this all going down?”

“Uh, Iridonia of course.”

“You literally could not be more incorrect.”

*obi wan int.*

“Told you so.”

*anakin int.*

“Okay, in my defense, there’s thousands of planets. I had like a 1% chance of guessing correctly.”

*back to the scene*

“Ryloth, Anakin. Ryloth is where we’re going. A distress call was detected coming from the planet, and since the Separatists have a history of meddling with the peace of Ryloth and its citizens, we were instructed to go inspect. I will not repeat myself again. That is all, everyone get ready. You’re dismissed.”

*interview with Rex; clones preparing armor and weapons in the background*

So, are you kind of like the leader of the clones around here?

“Uh, I’m the captain of the 501st Battalion under General Skywalker’s command. I follow his orders and then lead my brothers to execute those orders. We’re one of the most successful groups of clones, so I take great pride in-“

*rex is interrupted as the camera switches focus to the background where Jesse Kix and Fox are all at each other’s throats. They’re stealing each other’s helmets and tossing them around. Rex turns to look*

(Sigh) “as I was saying…I take great pride in our success and professionalism.”

“Rex!”

“Sorry, gotta go do my job now.”

*they board the ships and head off to Ryloth*

*camera switches to Anakin on Ryloth*

“Can we please leave now?”

“Absolutely not, Anakin. We still aren’t quite certain what set off the alarm.”

“It was probably just an accident. There’s nothing here, Master. Ahsoka, back me up.”

*ahsoka is looking down at and messing with a data pad clearly not listening to Anakin*

“What? Oh, uh, yeah. Totally.”

“Were you even listening to me?! I was speaking to you, Ahsoka. Can I get a little bit of respect please?”

*obi wan looks at the camera like ‘are you fucking kidding me’*

“Listen, Master, I started to tune you out like an hour ago. All you’ve done is complain.”

“Because there’s nothing here! I want to go home!”

“You just want to get back to Coruscant in time to go to that party for the senators.”

“What??????!?!?? That’s absurd, master. Absolutely preposterous. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

*cut to Anakin*

“Okay, I know exactly what he’s talking about, but I can’t admit it! There’s this politician gathering tonight and normally I wouldn’t be one to willingly seek out social gatherings-especially one full of politicians-but Padme is going and she asked if I would come. So of course I said yes. Also, they usually have those little cocktail weenies, so no way I’m missing that.”

*cut to obi wan*

“Anakin is terrible at hiding things, especially from me. He clearly wants to get back so he can go to the party tonight with Senator Amidala.”

Any reason why he’d want to go with her so bad?

“Oh, yes, you see my former Padawan thinks he’s sly, but as we all know he’s a terrible liar. He’s been pining after the senator since he was a boy. I assumed it would pass by now, but clearly he’s still infatuated with her. They’re very good friends but he still has his teenage crush on her. It’s very unprofessional.”

Will you be attending it as well?

“Oh, no. I’m not one for politics.”

*back to the scene*

“What? Master why are you going to that stupid thing? You hate those types of parties! Plus, last I checked, you are not a politician.”

*cut to Anakin*

“So I’ve never actually told Ahsoka about my secret relationship with Padmé…”

*back to the scene*

“Uhhhhh because I’m good friends with the Chancellor, obviously. He would like me there to….to talk about strategies. Yes. Strategies for the Republic.”

“At a formal gathering for politicians? That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“...you’re asking way too many questions, Snips. We have a mission to focus on! You’re better than this!”

*ahsoka looks suspiciously at him as obi wan shakes his head at the two of them*

“Now that you’re done bickering, will you two please go explore the blocked off caverns for any possible signs of life?”

*both, simultaneously and clearly annoyed*

“Yes, Master.”

——-

“You know, there’s nothing in these caves. He just wanted us out of his hair. He’s just keeping us busy.”

“How can you know for sure?”

“Because I don’t sense anything. There’s nothing in here.”

“Master Kenobi told us to do it, so that’s what we’re gonna do.”

“So you listen to all of his orders but not mine?”

“Well, Obi-Wan doesn’t lie to me, so yes.”

“Psh. Pssshh. I’m not lying to you...that’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not. Tell me the real reason you’re going to that party! I know that you’re lying!”

“I’m absolutely telling the truth. I don’t know why you’re so adamant about this. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh please. Whenever you lie you start using big words and you talk faster than normal. Just tell me the truth!”

“Fine. My friend Senator Amidala was allowed to bring someone and since we’re friends she asked me if I would like to come along too. So I said yes.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Makes sense why you’re so anxious about it.”

“Whatta you mean?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s just that you’re going to a party as the Senator’s plus one which she asked you to. It’s definitely a date.”

“Whaaaaaaaatt. It’s not a date. That’s ludicrous! We’re just friends. Plus, I’m a Jedi. We can’t go on dates!”

“Right, and you don’t have a crush on her.”

“I don’t have a crush on her! We’re friends! It’s extremely platonic.”

*int. With Anakin*

“Okay, so it’s not platonic. But I don’t have a crush on her because I’m married to her! If I tell her that I willingly break the Jedi Code whenever I want, then maybe she will too! And then what kind of Master would I be?!?!”

I thought you technically weren’t a Jedi Master.

*zooms in on anakin’s ‘I will fuckin kill you’ face”

*back to the scene*

“Right, and I don’t secretly steal your jackets when you’re sleeping when I’m cold.”

“What?”

“What?!”

“.....look, can we just get back to the mission?”

“Sure thing, Skyguy. Wait till Master Kenobi hears about this.”

*under his breath* “pretty sure he already knows...”

*scene switch to obi wan, he’s with Cody and many other clones. They’re in a room in one of the government buildings on Ryloth surrounding a beacon device. It’s a distress signal activator.*

“And you’re sure you didn’t do this, Mr. Syndulla?”

“No, Master Kenobi. I only use the distress beacon for serious emergencies. I have no clue as to who did this. There aren’t many people that have access, and it’s not something that just anyone can do by accident. You must enter a code and confirm multiple times.”

“Thank you for the information. Will you let us inspect the fortress for any intruders?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you. Cody, take Waxer, Boil, and Gearshift to the west wing. Gregor, you and your troops take the left. Myself and Crys will start here. Report back if you find anything.”

“Sir yes sir!”

*we see Obi-Wan and Crys searching first. They stayed in the room where the beacon is kept. Obi-Wan is looking through digital records as Crys is underneath it looking at its internal parts like those scenes where someone is laying on a skateboard to fix a car*

“This is strange. There’s no trace of tampering with the records or files. Nothing was wiped. This doesn’t seem like sabotage or a distraction for something bigger. Crys, do you have anything?”

*crys rolls out from under the beacon*

“No, sir. Everything is wired and hooked up properly. No signs of sabotage or demolition.”

“Hmm.”

*Int. With Crys*

“I’m really good with robots and droids, so that’s probably why General Kenobi wanted me to tag along with him. Usually he takes Cody, but this is more of my field of expertise.”

*back to the scene*

“This is trivial indeed.” *he’s doing his beard stroke* “I wonder if the others have found anything.”

*switch over to gregor and his troops. They’re searching the left wing of the fortress. They’ve been interviewing many citizens of Ryloth. They’re not very successful*

“I don’t see the point in talking to anyone else. I doubt they’re gonna know anything. We should report back to the general.”

*int with Gregor*

So, Gregor, can you give us a little summary of what you do around here?

“Yeah, sure thing. Uh, I’m kind of like third in command here. I’m a captain in the 212th Battalion and that’s pretty much all there is to it.”

Your helmet is very interesting. It’s pretty unique compared to the rest of your brothers.

“Oh, this? Some clones have tallies, but these represent stitches.” *he points to em* “It’s basically just showing how many injuries I’d have and how many stitches I would’ve gotten if I didn’t have the helmet. I think it’s pretty cool.”

*back to the scene. They’ve found nothing*

“Yeah, I’ll comm the general.”

*gregor taps into his comms and contacts Obi-Wan*

“Gregor, have you found anything?”

“No, general, I called to report that we’ve found nothing out of place. The twi’leks we’ve interviewed seem like they know nothing. How about you?”

“No, sadly we’ve come across nothing either. The beacon hasn’t been tampered with whatsoever.”

“We’ll keep looking around. I’ll keep you updated.”

*he hangs up the comm*

“Alright, boys, let’s keep going!”

*we now cut to Waxer and Boil being lead by Cody. They’re going door to door in the right wing where the rooms are located asking questions*

“This is leading us nowhere, Commander.”

“I know, Boil, but General Kenobi told us to inspect the entire right wing. We only have three more rooms to do. Let’s go.”

“Fine.”

*they knock at the next door*

“Hello?”

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Commander Cody of the 212th Attack Battalion. We’re on a mission here from the Jedi council. The distress beacon gave off a signal earlier today and we were wondering if you knew anything about it.”

“I’m very sorry I can’t be of any help to you, Commander, but I know nothing.”

*suddenly, a small child comes running down the hallway laughing. She trips and falls and scrapes her knee.*

“hey, are you okay?”

“Waxer you know that’s not how you talk to a child!”

“I’m sorry! You know I get awkward around kids. Why do we always find a runaway child when we’re on Ryloth? Like, how has this actually happened twice?”

*boil ignores him and kneels down to the kid*

“Hey there. My name is Boil. Are you okay? Do you need help?”

*she looks a bit frightened still. Boil realizes he still has his helmet on so he takes it off.*

“Sorry about that. Is it okay if I patch up your knee? I keep bandages on me, you can even pick the color if you want.”

“...okay. Blue please.”

“Blue it is. So, why were you running so fast? Is anything chasing you?”

“No. I was just looking for my papa. And I’m bored. I played with his fun machine today.”

“His machine, huh?”

*the three clones look at each other with a look™️ and Cody comms obi wan*

“General? I think we found your culprit”

——————

“‘Wow Anakin, you’re such a genius. It’s almost as if you were right all along!’ ‘Why thank you, Master. I knew I was right, and now we can go home even though we could’ve earlier.’ ‘Yes, you’re so right. We should’ve listened to you the whole time-“

“Anakin, are you finished?”

“‘we should make you a master on the council. I admire you.’ Now I’m finished.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Master. We get it, you’re right, now let’s get you home for your date.”

*anakin freezes and turns slowly. They’ve been walking up the ramp to board their ship when ahsoka said that. Anakin is now very red in the face*

“....what. What are you talking about snips??!! I don’t have a date. I don’t date. I’m just attending a senator party with the Chancellor. A date. Psh. Psh.”

“But you told me-“

“LETS GET ON THE SHIP, AHSOKA!”

*obi wan just rolls his eyes as they board the ship*

*We’re back to Coruscant!*

“Finally, we’re home. I’m so tired from all the nothing we did.”

“Oh, Anakin, you are such a drama queen. We did our mission like we were supposed to. Now, can I please speak to you in private?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Even though you have complained a lot today, I still care about you Anakin, and I know you made a promise to someone else already. So, I will go inform the Jedi Council that this was a false alarm by myself. Maybe I’ll take your Padawan. But you, my friend, should go get ready for your senator party.”

*anakin hugs obi wan*

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. I owe you one.”

*anakin goes up to his apartment on Coruscant where Padme is; she’s on their couch reading something and already dressed when anakin comes in*

“I’m back! I’m finally back!”

“Hello to you too Anakin. I was hoping they’d let you out. You’re cutting it close this time.”

“I’m so sorry. We had to go to Ryloth for no reason and Obi-Wan wouldn’t let me leave until we knew for sure what happened.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it in time.”

“Me too. Obi-Wan is letting me skip the debriefing for this.”

*he goes to change into his formal clothes for the party. Padme is already wearing one of her super rad fancy senator outfits. Anakin has an all black suit cause you know he’s that guy™️.

*int with Padme*

“Anakin has missed a lot of these outings with me due to Jedi business, so I wasn’t expecting him to actually be here for this one. I’m glad he is. I don’t see him as often as I wish I did.”

Do you ever think of asking him to leave the Jedi Order then?

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. I would never ask him to give up his life like that. And I don’t want that either. He’s a great Jedi and he loves what he does. I would never try to take that away from him.”

*back to scene. Now they’re walking down the halls of the senate building on their way to the party*

“So, get this, Ahsoka is convinced that I have a crush on you and that this is a date.”

“I mean, she’s not exactly wrong, is she?”

“Well, no, but I don’t really have a crush on you since, you know, we’re married. And she meant date as in ‘you invited me to this thing but we’re not together but in her eyes, it’s a date’ kind of thing.”

“Hmm so she still doesn’t know?”

“No. I can’t bring myself to tell her. I love her, but I don’t want to taint her mind and views of the Jedi Code and council. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“A very good point. You’re a good Master, Anakin.”

“Thanks.”

*they then enter the party. Many political figures from across the galaxy are there already. Its purpose is unknown to us, but it is clear that it’s important but also not too serious. They speak with many different people included Palpatine. We have yet to actually speak to him yet. Anakin is eventually over near the snack table, a drink in his hand and another one being handed off to Padme*

“Here you go. It’s your favorite.”

“Thank you. So, are you having fun yet?”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever have fun hanging around any politicians but you, but it’s not so bad. Plus, these snacks are really good.”

*padme rolls her eyes but laughs at him*

“It’s nice for us all to get together like this. It’s important for the Republic.”

“Mm, indeed.”

*they continue chatting until Anakin notices someone across the room. Fancy blue outfit. Blonde hair up in a bun. He doesn’t notice who it really is until she comes a bit closer. He does the pikachu face and drops his drink, luckily catching it midair with the force as he apologizes to those around him*

“Anakin?? Are you okay? What was that for?”

“You didn’t tell me she was going to be here!”

“Who?”

*he points to her by nudging his head in her direction hoping Padme will see who he’s talking about*

“Her? That’s my friend Satine. She’s the Duchess of Mandalore. She’s-wait a minute, how do you know her??!?”

“Nothing bad, I assure you. I’m actually quite fond of her. I just wish I knew sooner!”

“Why?”

“Because that, my love, is Obi-Wan’s girlfriend.”

END of this part.

Part2

——

#star wars #star wars prequels #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #tcw #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #padme amidala #captain rex #fic #fanfic #star wars fic #satine kryze #anidala #obitine

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