Sour, Then Sweet

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Eijiro Kirishima

Rating: 18+ (DO NOT INTERACT IF UNDER 18)

Genre: Fluffy smut

Word Count: 7K

AO3

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Kirishima used to like having sex with Bakugo...until he had to keep calling in sick every time they did it because Bakugo was so rough, it hurt doing Pro Hero work the next day. He avoids having sex with his boyfriend until Bakugo thinks that he isn't attractive anymore, causing a miscommunication between the two men. Kirishima eventually fesses up, and Bakugo reveals he's preferred romantic sex over rough the entire time.

Then, they try it out.

-

Eijiro Kirishima liked sex. Keyword: liked.

It’s not as if he’s completely averse to it now. No, he enjoys it—it’s very evident every time he does it. But, well, the effects of the deed afterward left much to be desired, and now, whenever Bakugo initiates, he can’t help but imagine the amount of pain he’s going to feel the next day. Bakugo is…rough. Very rough. Kirishima used to like it…the first few times. Really only the first time. But that’s probably because that was when he was between Pro Hero jobs and didn’t have to get out of bed the next day and do actual work.

“Oh, my God, just tell him!” Mina would say whenever Kirishima would FaceTime her, but he’d just change the subject and promptly hang up.

There’s no way in hell he’s going to talk about something as embarrassing as a sore butthole or the fact that his hips feel so rickety that he has to call in sick for work. Actually, he’s had to call in sick every single time they have sex. The fading hickeys on his neck don’t get the chance to fade away before being replaced with a fresh set; usually, that’d be very sexy to the Pro Hero, but when he has to go out as a venerated public figure, being seen by children and old people, it’s very much not desired. Mina lent him her concealer, saying “It does the trick” with a wink, but Pro Hero work isn’t exactly conducive to keeping makeup looking flawless. Thankfully, Pro Hero work is conducive to explaining away the scratches and “bruises” on his chest and neck.

Bakugo is genuinely concerned whenever Kirishima has to call in sick, but the redhead just pushes him out the door saying that he was fine; he just isn’t feeling it that day. But the excuses are running thin. There are only so many times he can call in sick without losing his spot in the top ten of Pro Heroes, and above all, he needs to help people. He can’t help but turn on the TV and watch in horror as depressing story after depressing story popped up on the news, all while lying on his side because sitting on his ass hurt too much.

So…he’d started turning down sex. And never initiating it. Well, he’d stopped initiating for a while. But he’d never turn it down. Now, before getting home, he’d use his trip home to think of all the excuses he could use when he climbed into bed with his boyfriend later that night if Bakugo was in the mood. He knows a simple ‘no’ would satisfy the blond and earn him a forehead kiss before being left alone, but…he still feels guilty. Therefore, the excuses came rolling in.

“Ah, sorry, just ate a big burrito.”

“I just took a shit. Ha.”

“Look over there! Oh, no…our potted plant broke. Gotta fix that.” (Kirishima pushed it off the dresser.)

“I’m really sweaty from work…no, it’s not sexy. No—a villain pissed on me, too.” (They had not.)

Bakugo, instead of being sexually frustrated, has been panicking. The main worry on his mind hasn’t been “Fuck, blue balls again?” Rather, it’s been “Is Eijiro not attracted to me anymore?” He hasn’t put on any weight. In fact, he’s gotten more muscular as an effect of his Pro Hero work. U.A. was challenging, especially with the League of Villains always up their asses, but at least they had their teachers and other Pro Heroes looking after them. Now it’s all up to him. He thought this feeling of losing control would stay at work, but clearly, it’s followed him back home because he can’t get a grip on Kirishima. Any time he thinks he’s figured Kirishima’s feelings out or gotten him close to talking about his feelings, he slips right out of his hands and locks himself behind a door, both metaphorically and physically. He’s already losing control and stamina in his Pro Hero work; the last thing he wants is for that to happen to his relationship.

Bakugo’s frustration boils to a point after a particularly hard day when he comes home and sees Eijiro on the couch, and instead of his boyfriend greeting him with a hug and a kiss, he stiffens and looks over his shoulder with a weary smile.

“What’s wrong with you?” Bakugo shouts, throwing his hands up in the air as he kicks off his boots. His anger subsides immediately when he sees Kirishima’s face fall, and he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, that came out wrong. I mean, why have you been acting weird?”

Kirishima frowns, visibly confused. “Weird? What do you mean?” He gets up from the couch and pads over to his boyfriend, his hands nervously laced together in front of him.

Bakugo’s scowl deepens, his eyebrows furrowing in the middle of his forehead. He snaps his arm forward, motioning to Kirishima’s hands. “I mean, you won’t even touch me. Why are you acting so nervous every time I get close to you?” He steps forward, and Kirishima takes a step back. Bakugo’s heart falls to his feet, cementing them to the ground. He’s paralyzed.

“See?” he adds with the smallest voice he’s used in a while.

It’ll be painful for Kirishima to explain why he’s been avoiding sex. But it’s even more painful to watch his boyfriend, who is usually so full of gusto, look like a timid mouse before him, pleading with him to explain himself. Kirishima never thought that communication would be this hard. It’s so simple out on the field: “Uravity, on your right!” “The villain is heading west down Third Street!” It’s short, informational, and unimportant in the long scheme of things. But relationships are a whole ‘nother level.

“I—” he starts, but panic sets in and closes his throat to any speech.

“Spit it out!” Bakugo’s hair is standing on end, and he lets out a long breath. “C’mon, Eijiro. You’re treating me like a villain here.” He hesitates before asking quietly, “Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

Kirishima’s chin dimples as he tries to hold back tears. He’d never thought that he had been hurting Bakugo, too. But clearly, he had, to the point of the other thinking he isn’t attractive. That is the most ludicrous thing he’s ever heard. So ludicrous, in fact, that out of pure spite, his mouth opens to offer the explanation once and for all.

Kirishima groans from frustration. “No, that’s not it at all! You’re still the most attractive man ever! Like, the first time I saw you, I was like ‘wow.’ Then when I saw you blow stuff up, I was like ‘wow.’ Like, you went kablam and kaboosh! It was so cool! What’s there not to be attracted to?”

Bakugo scowls. “Then why won’t you have sex with me?! Why do you keep putting things off? If you don’t want to do it anymore, that’s fine. I guess.” He begins to stutter out his next sentence before stopping to recollect himself. “I just want to know…if I did anything wrong.”

Kirishima’s never seen his boyfriend so downtrodden. He’s desperate to put a smile back on his boyfriend’s face, but the only way to do that would be to have sex with him, and well…

He purses his lips before coming clean. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise! I’m sorry, Katsuki! It’s just…you’re…” He looks up from the floor to meet Bakugo’s eyes, the blond’s ruby eyes darker than usual. Kirishima inhales sharply and balls his hands into fists by his sides, finally yelling, “You’re too rough!”

When he has the courage to open his eyes, they reveal a thoroughly confused Bakugo. His head is cocked, and his scowl has morphed into a straight line.

“…What?” Bakugo asks, lifting his hands up to look at them. “Like…my voice? Or how I act?”

“Uh…” He’s gone this far. Time to come clean. Kirishima rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and groans before saying, “In…in bed. You’re too rough in bed.”

It’s comical how quiet the two men are and how quickly they meet eyes. They just stand there, staring at each other for what feels like eons before Bakugo takes a step forward, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m too rough…in bed,” he repeats, and Kirishima feebly nods.

“I’m sorry for letting it drag on for so long; I know that isn’t really manly of me. But I didn’t…I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s embarrassing, but I can’t do it anymore. My ass hurts so much after, and—and the hickeys and bruises are embarrassing, and—”

Kirishima is silenced by the softest pair of lips upon his own, a mere brushing of lips together. He barely would have noticed had his vision not been clouded by a flurry of spiky blond hair and blushed tan skin. His hands are up in the air, unsure of what to do with them, until they come to rest on Bakugo’s shoulders, his fingertips digging gently into the hard muscles underneath them.

“You fucking idiot,” Bakugo whispers underneath his breath before diving in for a deeper kiss, making sure to keep it passionate but gentle. He lets his hands roam Kirishima’s torso with a feather-like touch before resting them on his hips, giving them a tender squeeze to let the other know that none of his words have any bite. But Kirishima has known that for a long time. Ever since they first met at U.A., while everybody feared Bakugo, Kirishima knew there was something else under the surface. And there was. Pure, unadulterated love.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Bakugo asks, pulling away for a short second before going back to kissing. “You should’ve told me.” Kiss. “Why don’t you ever tell me anything?” Kiss. “Now I feel like an asshole.” Kiss. “You’re the asshole for not telling me, asshole.” Kiss.

“If only you’d let me talk!” Kirishima exclaims with a laugh, cupping a hand over Bakugo’s mouth to stop any further kisses for a moment. “I know, I am the asshole. But it’s humiliating, Katsuki! Admitting that your butthole hurts? Why the hell would I ever tell anybody that? Especially after doing hard anal the day before? Mina laughed in my face—”

“You told Mina and not me?!” Bakugo roared, tearing Kirishima’s hand from his mouth. “You are dead. You’re fucking dead. You both are dead, you and that purple shitbag.”

Kirishima has to hold back a chuckle. “She’s pink.”

Bakugo’s head whips back to his boyfriend, his eyes flaming hot. “Not the point!”

Kirishima laughs again and cups the sides of Bakugo’s face, which is now a mild shade of red. He leans forward and plants a butterfly kiss on the tip of his nose, drawing himself back with a soft smile on his lips. “I’m sorry, Katsuki. Seriously. I really should’ve told you. I just figured that you really like rough sex and didn’t want to get in the way of that. We can still do it…just on a weekend or a day off so I can recover.”

“No, no.” Bakugo wipes Kirishima’s hands off his face and laces his own fingers through his boyfriend’s, dropping their hands between them. “We’re not doing that anymore. Unless you want it. I just…”

Now Bakugo’s face is the shade of the hot sauce in the fridge. He suddenly understands why Kirishima was so embarrassed now. Talking about sex is…embarrassing. Their first time, while sentimental, is not something he wants to remember often. In fact, his brain only brings it up when it wants him to cringe, like on a random patrol down the block. Full of misunderstandings and miscommunications, it was a jumble of body parts and weird fluids and Kirishima’s head hitting the headboard so hard he got a lump afterward. Well, the misunderstandings and miscommunications clearly didn’t stop there because they are in the same situation—just without the jumble of body parts and weird fluids. Not yet, anyway.

Bakugo inhales like Kirishima did, using the short time to build up the courage. “I thought you were the one who liked it rough. You seemed…really turned on that one time in the love hotel. With all the, uh, handcuffs…and stuff. So I just…kept on doing it like that.”

Kirishima’s eyes are wide as an owl’s, and he tries not to bite through his lip with his sharp teeth with how hard he’s attempting at not laughing.

“You based…our entire sex life off one time where I seemed particularly turned on?” Kirishima asks, his voice wavering as the laughter tries to butt in. “Is that what the logic was in your head?”

Bakugo yanks his hands back to himself and starts toward the bathroom. “Shut up, you idiot! Forget I ever said anything.”

“No!” Kirishima practically throws himself at his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist. “No, I think it’s adorable. You just wanted to make me happy, right?”

Bakugo stiffens before relenting with a nod.

Kirishima rubs his cheek against Bakugo’s back and grins. “You know, I was so excited that one time because of when you weren’t rough. When I had the blindfold on and I couldn’t see you, and you slowly dragged your fingers over me…” He mimics what he’s saying on Bakugo’s chest, stroking his pecs with the tips of his fingers. He lifts them up to the skin above the deep V of his costume, feeling the warmth of Bakugo’s skin skyrocket.

“That’s what made me so excited,” Kirishima explains. He begins to step away from Bakugo, but his hands are firmly kept against Bakugo’s chest by the other’s grip on them.

“Don’t move.” Bakugo’s voice is strong but with a needy undertone. He turns around in Kirishima’s arms, his eyes looking down at their feet. “I’m sorry.”

Kirishima chuckles. “That’s not something I hear every day. This is a cause for celebration.”

Before Bakugo can retaliate or stomp away in a fit of rage, Kirishima stands on his toes, kissing the firecracker on the forehead. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You’re still my favorite manly man.”

Bakugo manages a smile despite his previous bitterness and nods. “I’m gonna go shower.”

Kirishima nods along with him. “I’ll shower after you. Mind throwing a frozen pizza in the oven while I’m in there for dinner?”

Bakugo’s smile fades, and he hums absentmindedly as he turns around to go to the bathroom. “Yeah, sure.”

Kirishima’s smile fades as well at that response. Hadn’t everything been resolved? Why was his boyfriend still acting like that?

His worries continue for the better part of the evening, especially when Bakugo steps out of the shower and doesn’t say anything in passing before flopping on the bed and going on his phone. Kirishima tries to share a smile with him, or even just a glance, but there is no contact. He frowns to himself and goes to shower, his mind swirling with panic the entire time he’s in there. Once he’s done, he steps out and wraps a towel around his waist before walking into the bedroom. However, he doesn’t walk two steps in before he spots Bakugo sitting at the foot of the bed, smoothing the throw blanket down.

“Babe, what’s going—”

“Eijiro, c’mere,” the blond says, his voice gruff but sincere. He pats the spot next to him, and Kirishima obeys, nervously fumbling with the towel as he sits down. Bakugo places a hand over his boyfriend’s hands to still them and looks up with a gaze of pure love and admiration. His eyes rake over Kirishima’s body, the tan skin still dewy from the shower and his stringy hair framing his angular face. He truly is the manliest man, Bakugo thinks before biting back a snicker. That is clear evidence that he’s been spending too much time with the redhead: he’s even starting to think like him.

Maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.

“Eijiro,” Bakugo starts but hesitates. He clears his throat before saying, “Y’know, I like rough sex, but I’ve always been more of a romantic guy. Um, like…” He sheepishly scratches the back of his head, his eyes refusing to meet Kirishima’s. “Candles…or rose petals. Or…like, soft music. I don’t know. But…I—I like that more.” He bites his lip. “Especially with you.”

Kirishima’s eyes are wide as saucers. He knew that Bakugo didn’t always act like the rude stereotype people make him out to be, but never in a million years did he think that he would purposefully like lovey-dovey sex. He didn’t like fucking—he liked making love. Just the thought gives Kirishima butterflies, which are now running rampant in his stomach. He places a hand over it to stop the feeling from going down too far, but the look in Bakugo’s eyes makes it seem as if that isn’t so bad.

“I…I want to try it,” Bakugo finishes, twiddling his thumbs anxiously for his boyfriend’s response.

However, he doesn’t even need to think about it. He replies, “Then let’s try it.”

Now Bakugo’s eyes are wide, his head turning slowly to meet Kirishima’s determined gaze. He wants to laugh at how adorably resolute his boyfriend looks. Instead, he whispers, “Eijiro,” but he doesn’t finish his sentence, letting it trail off as he leans forward and touches his top lip with Kirishima’s. Both their eyes are lowered, their breaths quickening and their heart rates jumping.

Kirishima closes the gap and nearly falls into their routine foreplay of smashing lips and roughly tearing their clothes off each other like hungry animals. It’s strange doing it so slowly; he’d never felt Bakugo so vividly before. He can taste the strawberry lollipop some kid probably gave him on the street. He can feel every wrinkle, every cut on his bottom lip from how he’d anxiously bite it. The kiss has no teeth, no sharpness at all. Just the soft smacking of their lips and their warm breaths against each other’s chins.

It feels juvenile, all of it. As if they’re going to have sex for the first time and getting to know each other’s bodies. Bakugo lifts his hand and hesitates before gingerly placing it on Kirishima’s chest.

Cute, Kirishima thinks of Bakugo’s nervousness.

“You can touch me, Katsuki,” he whispers, guiding Bakugo’s hand to press firmly into his chest. He’s certain Bakugo can feel his heartbeat going at the speed of a hummingbird’s, but he’s not embarrassed. It’s perfect: it shows how much he’s enjoying this without him having to voice it.

“Okay,” Bakugo replies and returns to kissing, cupping Kirishima’s pec in his palm and giving it a tender squeeze.

“Mm,” Kirishima breathes, breaking the kiss.

Bakugo’s face was already red, but now it’s horridly scarlet at the mere sound of the soft groan. He’s also nervous; he knows that Kirishima will tell him—now that they’ve worked everything out communication-wise—if he’s being too rough, but the panic still lingers.

“Good?” he asks.

Kirishima can tell Bakugo’s being overly cautious, and all he does is direct his boyfriend’s hand to go lower down his torso, letting out another shaky breath. “Y-yes,” he replies, his eyelids heavily lidded. “Good.”

Bakugo nods, and they return to kissing, the one thing both know how to do softly by now. It’s everything else they need to learn how to do. One step at a time. The only “rough thing” they do is when Kirishima playfully nips at Bakugo’s bottom lip with his sharp teeth, eliciting an irresistible groan out of the other.

Bakugo laces his fingers with Kirishima’s and gently pushes him down onto the mattress, never breaking their lip-lock as he turns to settle himself between his legs. While one hand is secured in his boyfriend’s, he uses the other to roam Kirishima’s body, of which he had missed for far too long. He caresses his soft stomach, feeling the strong muscles underneath the thick skin. He runs his fingers down his black happy trail (he burst out laughing the first time he saw it, saying “So the carpet doesn’t match the drapes?” earning a swift kick to the head). His fingers’ journey is stopped by the towel, and Bakugo separates from Kirishima to look down at him for approval.

“Yes, Katsuki,” Kirishima mumbles, his breaths already heavy with anticipation. “Touch me.”

Bakugo smiles and slips his fingers underneath the towel, his hand bumping into Kirishima’s cock only a few centimeters down.

“You’re that excited for me?” Bakugo asks, gripping Kirishima and drawing out a shrill gasp from him. “I’m flattered.”

Kirishima’s about to say something before he’s cut off by his own moan once Bakugo begins pumping his hand, his head falling to the side and his free hand coming up to cover his mouth. He bites his knuckles as Bakugo’s lips fall to his jaw, then to his chin, then to his neck, leaving his skin prickling and pink wherever those lips fall.

The knuckles provide the bare minimum of sound dampening, his voice still echoing off the sides of their bedroom as Bakugo’s stroking gets faster and his kisses grow more feverish. He resorts to draping his forearm over his eyes, squeezing his eyelids shut underneath the darkness his arm provides. If he’s going to be heard no matter what he does, then he’ll hide whatever embarrassing expressions he’s making. Usually, the foreplay and sex go by so quickly, there’s no time to even look at each other. But he can feel Bakugo’s eyes on him, on his body, and the thought makes him squirm.

“Before you say anything, no hickeys, got it,” Bakugo says after pulling away from kissing. He takes a moment now that he’s hovering over Kirishima to admire his body as it is. Usually, they went too fast to savor each other’s bodies. For instance, he didn’t know his boyfriend had a freckle in the middle of his sternum. Or that his nipples are slightly mismatched—but are gorgeous all the same. Or how his stomach expands then contracts erratically to compensate for his hurried breaths.

“You’re beautiful,” Bakugo whispers, diving in to kiss Kirishima’s jaw.

Kirishima chuckles before letting out another soft moan. “I’m a man, you’re supposed to call me handsome.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Bakugo replies, tweaking Kirishima’s nipple playfully and earning a surprised yelp and displeased grumble. “A beautiful dumbass.”

“I’m going to harden and crack you across the face.”

“But you’re already hard.”

“Hey-!” Before Kirishima act out his promise, Bakugo tightens his grip on him and strokes him even faster, pressing his thumb into the head and smearing the precum around it. “A-ah!”

Kirishima shivers, but Bakugo isn’t done with his compliments, even though his boyfriend thinks he doesn’t deserve them.

“Beautiful nose,” Bakugo says, kissing the tip of Kirishima’s nose that’s peeking out from underneath his forearm.

“Beautiful cheek.” Kiss.

“Beautiful jaw.” Kiss.

“Beautiful neck.” Kiss.

“Beautiful chest.” Kiss.

“Beautiful stomach.” Kiss.

Bakugo sits back on his haunches as he pulls the towel away completely, revealing the rest of Kirishima’s body. Another shiver racks Kirishima’s body at all the compliments, his legs self-consciously shutting closed at all the love. He isn’t used to being looked at. To being revered. Of course, Bakugo compliments him, but it’s usually laced with an insult or said begrudgingly. Not like this. Not so easily. Not so…tenderly. It’s…nice. The butterflies are at full speed now, and he’s feeling dizzy as he watches Bakugo continue to press kisses into his skin. Probably because all the blood in his body is draining into his dick. With each compliment, his head gets fuzzier.

“Cute dick,” Bakugo says, which brings Kirishima’s mind back to fully functioning.

He tosses his arm off his face and sits up to look at his boyfriend staring up deviously at him from between his legs, his cock right in front of his face. “What? Not beautiful? Cute?” he exclaims, his voice breaking.

“Yeah, now shut up,” Bakugo says, pushing Kirishima back onto the bed and giving the head a kiss before the redhead can retaliate.

“T-that’s playing—ah! D-dirty…” Kirishima says before dissolving back into his moans.

Bakugo snickers and gives his cock another lick before kissing the tops of Kirishima’s thighs, delighting in seeing them flinch at the touch. “Beautiful thighs.”

He lifts Kirishima’s leg to his shoulder, all the while still pumping him vigorously.

“Beautiful calves.” Kiss.

He kisses the top of Kirishima’s foot. “Beautiful feet.”

“You’re into feet now?” Kirishima asks with a half-laugh, half-gasp.

Bakugo doesn’t answer. He knows that what he’s about to do will be funnier than anything he could say. He licks a trail from Kirishima’s ankle, putting down his leg in the process, to his thigh, watching with satisfaction as his boyfriend’s back arches off the bed. Without giving Kirishima time to recover, he engulfs his cock in his mouth, nuzzling his nose into the black happy trail before coming up for air.

“T-too fast!” Kirishima cries out, his forearm pressing down on his face while his other arm was outstretched, his hand fisting Bakugo’s spiked blond locks. “I’m gonna come…”

“From just that?” Bakugo teases. When he feels Kirishima’s legs tense underneath him and try to close, he forces them back open, leaning forward to give the tip another kiss. “C’mon, Eijiro, I thought I knew you better.”

But what Bakugo is really thinking is: If this is what it takes for him to come so easily, no wonder it took him so long when we were doing it rough before.

He makes his way back to Kirishima’s cock and lays his tongue flat against the base before licking up the shaft, giving special attention to the head before doing the whole routine again. He takes it into his mouth again and, using the spit pooling at the base, wets his fingers and circles Kirishima’s entrance.

Wait, he thinks, stopping himself. That’s too rough.

He lifts himself from his mewling boyfriend, reaching over to the nightstand and retrieving a condom and the lube bottle rarely used since they get to the deed so quickly, there’s barely any time to stretch.

Fuck. I’m an idiot. No wonder Eijiro was complaining about the pain. It must’ve hurt like a bitch.

He coats his fingers in a generous layer of lube and lowers himself back onto Kirishima, rounding his entrance tantalizingly.

“Katsukiii!” Kirishima whines, his hand back in Bakugo’s hair. “Please!”

“Patience, babe,” Bakugo replies nonchalantly. “Didn’t you say you wanted it slow?”

“Not this slow!” the other exclaims from underneath his forearm. His legs spread apart to make room for his boyfriend, his body language much more communicative than his words.

Bakugo is about to tease Kirishima some more before he gives in and works in a finger, spreading Kirishima’s walls and pumping it back and forth. He’s just as needy and impatient; sure, he loves some romantic lovemaking, but damn, did he want the main course.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, looking up at his boyfriend while he busies his mouth with his cock.

Kirishima feebly nods. “Getting t-there.”

“Just have to find the right spot,” Bakugo whispers to himself, using Kirishima’s moans and sighs as a guide to where his prostate is. He has a vague idea; however, yet again, they went too fast for him to properly know where it is.

He inserts another finger, scissoring Kirishima open while trying to find his spot at the same time. All the while giving him a blowjob. Why hadn’t he done this earlier? The delicious moans and cute exclamations and sultry expressions Kirishima’s releasing is addicting, and Bakugo can’t picture their future sex life without any of it. Even though they’ll probably be having sex less often with how long the process is going to take now, it’s completely worth it.

“Yes!” Kirishima cries out, his back arching again and his head flying backward into the pillow. His legs begin to tremble the more Bakugo massages the bump raised from the velvety walls around it. “Katsuki—hnngh! Feels…so g-good…”

Bakugo puts all his energy into working Kirishima open so that he feels no pain the next day while paying special attention to that special bump, sending Kirishima into a pleasure-fueled frenzy.

Kirishima’s tripping over his own words, his tongue getting caught in “C-coming! I’m—"

“Not so fast,” Bakugo says after popping off his cock, slowing down his hand and slowly slipping it out. Kirishima lets out a high-pitched whine at the loss inside him, and Bakugo chuckles as he pushes himself back up to his boyfriend’s face and kisses his cheek. “Just a little more, baby. You can take it.”

Kirishima’s panting like a dog in heat at this point. The only reason he isn’t completely humiliated is because his forearm is his saving grace, but even that is taken away by Bakugo. He grips Kirishima’s wrist and uncovers his face once and for all, pushing his wrist into the mattress.

“I want to see your face,” he whispers in the other’s ear, giving the lobe a feathery kiss. Kirishima grumbles something under his breath but complies to his boyfriend’s request since, after all, how is he supposed to see Bakugo’s face and all his expressions if his eyes are closed?

Bakugo uses his free hand to lift the condom up to his mouth. He uses his teeth to tear the packaging, spitting out the corner and retrieving the condom from inside. He meets Kirishima’s eyes for the first time the entire night, which are dark with lust and wild from unadulterated pleasure. “Mind putting it on me?”

Kirishima’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, but he eventually nods, pushing himself up by the elbows and taking the condom from his boyfriend’s fingers. He reaches forward, pinches the tip, and slides it on with ease, giving Bakugo’s cock a gentle squeeze and quick stroke to tease him back for everything he’s done.

“Fuck,” Bakugo mutters with a heavy exhale. He smirks and looks up at Kirishima, who’s now laying back down with his hands fisting the pillow underneath his head and his pink legs spread wide open in invitation. “You can be a little devil, can’t you?”

Kirishima lifts a hand to Bakugo’s face, drawing him closer until their lips are touching once again. Bakugo’s blond eyelashes tickle his cheeks, and he smiles. “Make love to me, Katsuki.”

Bakugo’s power trip is gone, replaced with highlighter bright red cheeks. That’s it. He’s going to only make love to Kirishima from now on, especially if it means this.

He nods; it’s the only thing he can do. He glides his hands into Kirishima’s, prying them from the pillow and pressing them into the mattress next to his shoulders. Their hands are so warm together, slick with sweat, their knuckles white from how tightly they’re clutching each other. Their hands are their anchors. Bakugo nor Kirishima can imagine separating them now.

“I love you,” Kirishima whispers, placing a butterfly kiss on the tip of his boyfriend’s nose. “So much.”

Bakugo smiles and presses his sweaty forehead’s into Kirishima’s. “I know.”

With that, he slowly slides inside, letting out a low groan at the sudden warmth and tightness surrounding him. Kirishima, on the other hand, is speechless. He’s confused; either it’s the combination of the lube and the stretching or he’s just gotten looser from all the rough sex, but…it doesn’t hurt. He just feels full, yet to feel pleasure, but if he shifts his hips a specific way, he’s certain he’ll feel it in no time. But it’s the lack of pain that he’s surprised about. He couldn’t be happier.

“You okay?” Bakugo asks from the crook of Kirishima’s neck, where he buried his face, his voice muffled by the soft skin underneath.

“Move,” Kirishima demands, moving his hips down and whirling them around. He’s left speechless again as Bakugo’s cock brushes against his prostate, his eyes wide and his nails digging into Bakugo’s knuckles. “Move, please.” He doesn’t want to rush it in case of injury, but damn, he’s on cloud nine.

Don’t need to ask me twice, Bakugo thinks. His hips move on their own, rocking forward slowly and drawing groans from both men. He starts up a languid rhythm, listening to the noises spilling out of his boyfriend’s cherry-red mouth both because it’s music to his ears and for any signs of distress. But there is none. Just begs and whines and mewls.

“Faster,” Kirishima pleads, his thighs clinging to Bakugo’s sides. Bakugo can feel them shaking, as well as the rest of Kirishima’s body. And he gladly complies, ramping up the speed, but it’s nothing compared to their fuckfests. Even though it’s slow compared to their other times, Kirishima is treating it as if he’s going a hundred kilometers an hour in terms of going absolutely crazy. His back is arching so much, his stomach meets Bakugo’s, their chests touching every time Bakugo pushes inside. His neck might break with how far his head is thrown back, allowing his Adam’s apple to protrude from his neck and dance along to every single moan and whimper that comes out like samba music.

“Yes, Katsuki—fee…ls s-so—nngh!” He dissolves into blabbers and incoherency, working his hands free from Bakugo’s to cling onto his back for dear life, leaving ugly red scratches along the way. “I want…I want—ugh!”

“Use your words, baby,” Bakugo murmurs, and Kirishima’s shoulders hike up to his ears at the warm breath on one of them.

“Mm… deeper, harder—” That’s all that comes out of Kirishima before he’s overtaken by moans again.

Bakugo works out his pace. Usually, he just goes fast. But Kirishima isn’t asking for faster anymore, he’s asking for deeper. Harder. Same speed, but just—

SMACK!

“GUH!” A guttural cry escapes Kirishima’s throat, and Bakugo groans along with the hard thrust. It echoed off the walls, the bed creaking to show its displeasure with the move.

“Yes! Like that! Just like that!” The scratches are numerous and ugly now, covering the majority of Bakugo’s back.

“Good boy,” Bakugo mumbles, pressing a kiss onto Kirishima’s forehead adorned by beads of sweat. “You did good. F-fuck.” Now Bakugo’s getting incoherent, unable to form a singular thought as he continues the punishing thrusts and slow pace. “You f-feel so good, baby, so good…”

“Close…I-I’m close,” Kirishima warns, crossing his ankles behind Bakugo’s back to push him even closer. He drops his hands from Bakugo’s back and cradles his face with them, bringing his boyfriend’s face back to being nose-to-nose with him. “God, I love you. Make love to me, Katsuki. Love me, love me, love me—”

“For the rest of my life,” Bakugo murmurs back against Kirishima’s lips. “For the rest of my goddamn life, I’ll love you.”

That’s all that Kirishima needs. Yes, the pleasure he’s receiving from his prostate being abused by Bakugo’s cock is more than enough to push him over the edge. But hearing his boyfriend, the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with, confirm that he in fact feels the same way and is using passionate sex to communicate that to him…it’s more than enough.

“Katsuki, I’m gonna come—I’m—!”

With one last snap of Bakugo’s hips, Kirishima’s done. White blurs his vision, his entire body racked with pleasure, tears, and electric pulses, both across his skin and deep in his muscles. His hair stands on end, goosebumps decorate his skin, his body is pink and glistening with a sheen of sweat, and his come is the last garnish on the eye candy that is Kirishima’s orgasm.

Bakugo would’ve come anyway from how tight Kirishima’s clamping down on him, but just the look of ecstasy on his love’s face pushes him over the brim. He buries himself deep inside Kirishima and grabs one of Kirishima’s hands on his face for support, burying it in the mattress. He rides through the demanding orgasm that commands his entire body, his hips continuing to snap forward because of the aftershocks, causing even more oversensitivity to torment his body. He feels the ends of his hair singe from how hot he’s burning, and he’s afraid that the intense orgasm will lead to him burning down the apartment.

“Fuck!” he growls, using Kirishima’s lips to silence himself.

“Katsuki, Katsuki…” Kirishima pants, trying to separate from Bakugo’s kisses. “I love you…”

The two men stay there for a few more moments catching their breath, Bakugo long since collapsed on top of his redhead. Their chests rise to meet each other, their skin sticking together like glue. Their hands are still joined together, making a nice imprint on the mattress. Everything about them is joined together.

Somehow, Bakugo finds the courage to push himself off Kirishima and pull out. Both men hiss with displeasure, the loss of warmth on Bakugo’s end and the loss of fullness on Kirishima’s end. He carefully rolls the condom off him and ties it at the end, tossing it in the trash and flopping onto his back. Kirishima immediately saddles up next to Bakugo, tossing a leg over Bakugo’s hips and laying on his chest.

“Thank you,” Kirishima mumbles, giving the skin underneath him a kiss.

“For what?” Bakugo asks then laughs. “For giving you the best night of your goddamned life?”

Kirishima laughs and hardens his fist to punch Bakugo playfully on the chest—delicately enough to not scar, but hard enough to hurt. And it does: it elicits a great yelp of pain from his boyfriend.

“No. I mean, yeah, but—I mean, there will be other nights—ugh, that’s not what I’m trying to say.” He props himself up on his elbow to look Bakugo directly in the eye, unhardening his fist to slide it up to cup his boyfriend’s cheek. “Thank you for understanding. For not making fun of me. I…” He sighs. “I regret not talking to you. I’ll always regret that. But I just wanted to make you happy and being rough seemed to make you happy. So, I went along with it.”

“Eijiro—”

“Let me finish,” Kirishima stresses. “You didn’t force me. I liked those times. But this…this is different. I’ll tell you what I’m in the mood for. I will let you know.”

Bakugo’s eyelids are heavy with fatigue, but he nods and runs a hand through Kirishima’s damp hair, shaking the hair into his boyfriend’s eyes with an amused smile. “Okay, babe. Just don’t pull that shit again.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Kirishima says. “Manly men don’t break their promises.” He winks before relaxing back into his boyfriend’s side. “I love you.”

Bakugo snorts and drapes a lazy arm over Kirishima’s waist. “I love you, too. Idiot.”

They’re both drifting off to sleep when Kirishima whispers, “Who would’ve known you’re just a big ol’ softie for lovey dovey sex in the end.”

Bakugo stares at the grinning redhead through the darkness.

“Ow! Okay, I get it, sorry! Stop burning me!”

…

When Kirishima awakes, Bakugo’s already left for the early shift he picked up from Ingenium since he’s sick. When Ingenium’s sick, that means something is really wrong with him since that nerd always clocks in, even if he has to wear a face mask because he’s hacking up his lungs from the flu.

He stretches his arms over his head, delaying the inevitable: the sharp pain in the ass from sitting up. He’s woken up with this pain one too many times, so he turns to slip off the bed instead of sitting up. However, out of habit, he sits on the edge of the bed to stand up, and he almost misses it before he stands up. His ass is fine. He has no pain. He feels nothing. It’s almost as if they didn’t have sex last night.

Did they? Yesterday feels like a fever dream, but that doesn’t make the fact that he feels no pain after sex any less real. He stands up, almost as if testing the waters, and walks around. No pain. He slips on some boxers, which includes lifting his legs, which also elicits no pain. He sits down on their ottoman. No pain. He gets in the shower to clean himself up, pressing his fingers inside himself. No pain, other than the usual sting from going in dry. No throbbing, no swelling, no puffiness. Nothing.

No more pain.

Kirishima has successfully had sex without needing to call in sick afterwards. And he’s ready to celebrate.

He cooks himself a giant breakfast fit for a king and goes out on patrol with a grin so big, it startles a few children. He knows his coworkers know that he got laid, but they don’t know why specifically he’s so happy about getting laid. He can actually walk. And use his Quirk without a flare-up of pain in his lower back. And he doesn’t need to worry about bruises or hickeys to cover up. Mina sees his joyful demeanor and tries to “accidentally” wipe away the concealer on his neck as a joke, only to reveal that there’s nothing to cover up.

“Did you even have sex?” she asks, and Kirishima gleefully nods.

“Yep.”

Mina’s eyes snap open. “What? How are you standing? Why didn’t you call in sick?”

Kirishima smirks and shrugs. “No pain.” He winks at his pink friend and throws her two finger guns. “I worked it all out.”

Bakugo, on the other hand, is suffering from taunts from everybody in his department. He has a relatively conservative costume compared to Kirishima’s, but his shoulders are still exposed for all the world to see as a spectacle. Kirishima made sure of that. They’re tattooed with angry red scratch marks, and anybody can see that they lead to a maze of many more rows underneath his shirt. Bakugo can’t even think of an excuse. Yes, a villain is an obvious excuse, but with how airy and normal he’s acting at the agency, anybody can infer what happened. He’s blowing up a lot less and isn’t using his Quirk on innocent bystanders to intimidate them.

“You should get laid more often,” one of the Pro Heroes in his agency mutters under his breath, and in return gets his eyebrows singed off.

But it’s true, and Bakugo can’t deny it. When he gets home, he finds Kirishima on the bed sitting back on his heels, his eyelids heavy and his sharp teeth tugging on his bottom lip in a smirk. He takes full advantage of the fact that his good behavior at work earned him a day off and that Kirishima got a day off from so efficiently handling villains by making love to his boyfriend all night. When Kirishima wakes up the next day to reveal, yet again, that he has no pain, he can’t help himself to a morning lovemaking session as well. And the cycle continues.

Eijiro Kirishima likes sex. Keyword: likes.

So I was sitting, trying to work on a bit of art, when my mind took a left turn and was like "How would you turn Katara evil?". So over the course of three hours I wrote this. It's intended to set the ground work for what the rest of the story would be should I decide to continue it. Any future chapters would be much more detailed as that's where the bulk of the story truly begins. TWs: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Execution Style Murder, References to Early Childhood Trauma. I think that's all of them.

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Blood's Calling

Absolute Power Corupts Absolutely. It was a foolish thought which had once caused Katara to swear never to bloodbend again. It was a memory she could recalled clearly, as if she was reliving the moment. She remembered sensing Hama's veins and arteries, flowing like rivers throughout her body. She remembers desperately grasping those rivers, ripping the will of thier controller away. Forcing the old master to submit to her. It was her first taste of power. True power.

She was no longer the weak child who watched as her mother resigned herself to death. She was no longer the young teen who froze in shock as a Fire Navy vessel slammed through her villages wall. She could use this. She could prevent other young children from being orphaned. She could...

That night the thought stopped there. It wasn't the power that scared her. No aspect of waterbending has ever scared her. What terrified Katara, was that she enjoyed it. She enjoyed forcing Hama to release her friends, saving thier lives. She loved the control, knowing she would never be helpless again. It felt wrong at the time, relishing in such a thing. Subjugation was what the Fire Nation was fighting for. So she swore never to use it again.

____________________________________________

That promise was not long lived. Storming the Southern Raider vessel was an opportunity she never believed could be a possibility. How could she possibly turn away the opportunity to bring her mother justice. To stop whatever future, monsterous actions these beasts were sure to commit.

Under the light of the full moon, her blue eyes, darker than the ocean's deepest abyss, bore into the ship as she flew closer. Calling out with her bending, nearly the entire crew was swept out to sea. Boarding the vessel, she made quick work of the few men left on the deck before storming inside, water trailing behind her. Katara had almost forgotten the former Fire Prince was with her until he stopped a solder attempting to enter through a door they were passing.

As the captains door was blasted open, she gave him no time to retaliate. His blood called to Katara, and she answered. The fire in his hands flickered out immediately as she turned his body against him. Images of her mother's body, charred unrecognizable. A smell of burnt flesh seared into her mind. As the memories assaulted her, Katara was left feeling one desire permeating her being. She would make him suffer.

She cramped his hand immediately before dragging him around, slamming the appendage into the floor. Katara smiled slightly, savoring in the power she now held over her mother's killer. She forced the captains arms behind his back, contorting the joints to near dislocation. His blood was singing to her, and unlike the first time, she was not afraid to grasp it.

Zuko's questioning of the man broke through her rage. Lifting him to look her in the eye, she knew within a moment that it wasn't him. As if being snapped from a trance, she realized what she had done, nearly torturing an man who'd never wronged her. Quickly releasing him, Katara heard the identity of her target as she walked away.

____________________________________________

She believed that was the last time she'd ever bloodbend. She was wrong. Since that day, the urge to bloodbend was stronger than before. Every full moon, she could sense the steady pulses of her sleeping friends, like faint whispers begging her take control. She chose not to of course. Katara couldn't imagine subjecting them to such a power again.

Time passed, the war finally ended, Zuko ascended to the throne. On the surface, the world was at peace, or so it seemed. Her epiphany came a few months after the wars end. It was a couple hours past sundown on the night of a full moon. Once again the desire to bloodbend filled her senses, withholding sleep from her grasp. Katara's recent appointment as ambassador to the Southern Watertribe brought her to Caldera, assisting in negotiating a trade agreement between thier Nations.

With sleep alluding her, she decided to walk through the the main city, hoping the cool night air would help clear her mind. Passing an alley, she heard an odd noise. Stepping into the darkness and turning a corner around the building revealed a sight that made Katara's blood boil. Backed into a corner by a man wielding a knife was a young woman, a small child was hugging the back of her pant leg, large innocent eyes reflecting fear. Looking at the child, her mind flashed to another little girl, standing in an igloo, not knowing that was the last time she'd hear her mother's voice.

Katara wouldn't let that happen again. Grasping the man's blood, she lifted him into the air, sending him crashing against the wall.

"Take the girl and go." Katara's voice lacked the passion that it typically carried. Instead, a cold voice, sharper than any blade of ice came from her.

She didn't give the man a chance to rise as she seized him again. Katara brought him to his knees, arms bent behind his back, forcing him to look up at her. Drawing water from her pouch with her off hand, a large icicle hovered in the air.

"Please..." His voice quivered with fear. The same fear that was in the child's eyes mere moments ago. She directed a dark glare at the man.

"How many have begged you the same way your begging me..." It was a whisper, however the words cut through the air like a knife. She didn't give the creature a chance to respond. With a swift motion, the icicle flew threw the air. A sickening thunk echoed in the alley, as the ice slammed into the monster's heart.

A crack of thunder preceded a downpour during her walk back to the palace. A sense of detatchment settled over Katara. Of course she considered it to be more of an awakening. Despite thier efforts, ending the war, negotiating treaties, writing laws, people were still suffering at the hands of monsters impersonating people. The legal system is slow and flawed. It let's too many slip through, allowing them to continue thier torment.

'I will never, EVER, turn my back on people who need me!'

The memory echoed through her being. An oath she swore, resonating from the core of her being. The legal system failed repeatedly but she would not. Katara had power. The idea of what true power was is something Katara never understood until now. The ability to take dreams, desires, and force them into reality. She could change things. Bring justice to people who've suffered and protect children from the horrors that still plagued the world.

____________________________________________

A year passed and one thing became evident. Katara needed to get stronger. She'd made strides in eliminating the beasts that stalked and preyed upon the innocent. But it wasn't enough. There were too many for her to only take action once a month. Traditional waterbending was too loud to use against them. If she was caught, her friends wouldn't understand. She needed to do this, to protect the people. She needed bloodbending.

The training started much how Hama had described inventing the bending form. She started with small animals, which she mastered rather quickly unsurprisingly. The larger ones, like the tiger seals, proved to be a much bigger challenge, one she eventually completed. The lack of the moon's light was a difficult obstacle to overcome Yet as she stood before the kneeling moose lion, whining in pain as it failed to break from her will, she knew she was ready.

The next year was far more successful. With the growing population in her own tribe, Katara had to make sure the vermin were weeded out as soon as possible. Patrolling every night she was home allowed her to remove sixteen threats to her people. She found another twelve during her trip to the Northern Tribe, where she helped negotiate an alliance with them. The corruption there ran deep. Extra effort would be made during her next trip.

The Earth Kingdom is by far where Katara made the greatest impact. Twenty three criminals were slew in Omashu, another thirty one during her month long stay in Ba Sing Se and fifteen bandits who tried to ambush her during her travel between the major cities. It was an interesting observation, how quickly the eyes on these creatures shifted from arrogance to fear once they no longer held the power. Not unlike the one in the alley that first night. So many of those beasts have been removed by her, and she knows she protected countless people in the process. Katara knew she was doing the right thing, hearing children playing outside only reaffirmed her resolve.

Katara had only been back home for a few days when Aang landed at her village center. Running out of her igloo to greet him, she hesitated at his serious expression.

"Aang, it's good to see you."

"You too, Katara. I wish it was under better circumstances though." Katara tensed at his words as Sokka exited thier igloo behind her.

"Hey Aang. What's up?"

"Zuko needs our help. There's a group of rebels in the Fire Nation. According to his letter, they call themselves the New Ozai Society. They want to dethrone him and restart the war." Aang said. Katara didn't give any outward reaction to his statement. She hadn't been to the Fire Nation since that first night in the alley.

"We'll help. Come on Sokka." Katara immediately cut in as he finished speaking. Turning, she headed back inside the igloo, lost in thought as she began packing. Her neglect of the Nation was clear. How could she allow those scum to coalesce into such a threat. She would make up for it during this trip. She needed a way to learn who all was involved and where they met. Someone who could get inside thier ranks. Who wouldn't report her own involvement to Zuko or her friends. Her thoughts led her to one person who would be accepted by them with no problem. She wasn't happy about it, but it couldn't be helped. At the very least the visit would be interesting. After all, with all of Katara's travels, she had yet to see the inside of an asylum.

"Appa, Yip, Yip!" Aang called, begining thier journey across the sea.

___________________________________________

So, as you can see, the route I would take to make Katara a bad guy would be to take a core aspect of her character (in this case "I will never, EVER, turn my back in people who need me." Still one of my fav moments for her character btw.) And twist it into something dark. I took the helplessness surrounding her mother's death to foster a craving for control within her which connected to bloodbending. I tried to depict a steady dehumanization of criminals in her eyes through the time skips. I felt really awkward writing dialogue but hopefully you all enjoyed my take on a Darker Katara :)

⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  FIVE TIMES TOUCHED  //  SELECTIVELY ACCEPTING  // @humanetic​​

❛  I’M GOING OUT -----  ❜ you don’t even remember how it started--- both of you live so close to that vivid strip of scarlett frustration, running in and between yourselves, wrapping around you both and pulling pulling, P U L L I N G --  that it never takes much to P U S H over the edge into oblivion, into words that would be wrapped and buried down but are always spoken out loud. How else could it be ? your hands at the door, eyes full of fire and fury. you burn so intently, so brightly --- that the thought of settling the room ablaze SCARES YOU. you go to leave because it’s all that you know. you run because it’s easier than facing HIM and allowing this to consume you both. HIS hand at your wrist is strong, sudden as the power that flows from steel and cybernetics drags you back into the room --   a touch of flesh // beneath his chrome -- wrist relenting, giving in as your chin dips and eyes close. body brought closer, away from your EXIT and back into the ring -- so close, close enough that your wrist arches into his and you RELENT. muscles once prepped for flight now brought crashing back down to earth with a drag of gravity so strong , breath catches within your lungs. crashing into him as the deep well of emotion buried inside you threatens to overflow, forehead finding his chest - close close close now.  close enough to inhale him -- close enough to feel the words ruminate deep within, feel the ache grow inside you as words surge and you beg to hear them again, hear them forever --- oh, runaway -- now you have a place to belong, don’t you remember how that feels ? to be NEEDED and to need so much in return.  the door will need to be fixed ; but you ? you’re almost there, almost .

THE REGRET IS INSTANT --- your balled fist meeting his jaw puts out a shattering pain that runs along and down through your fingers, coursing along the muscles and sinew of your arm --- ah, sweet regret. your face still full of fury  -- curse words of your mother’s tongue flying and falling through the air -- some for him and some for yourself as his hands seek out your waist and you stand firm, own hand held in hand as you stay tightly bound --  unable almost, to look him in the eye. rage, rage of your mother and father, rage of your sister lost to demons and darkness, rage that boils and simmers just below the surface. HE won’t know until you tell him --- but how do you explain the inherited fury that flows through you stronger at each turn   - a touch of acceptance  //  as his fingers find the exposed skin and you settle, simmer.  oh my love , you bear it so well  ---  ❛  i know you didn’t, I ----- ❜ but what can you offer him as a branch ? what can you say to apologise ?  eyebrows furrowed together, not confusion, not regret for the pain which should have been anticipated, blinded by the red mist that always ALWAYS descends. your work, so close , so personal. ❛  mi cielito ---- don’t, fuck ow ----  ❜  hand aching as you ring it out, lowering it between you like a weapon cast to one side - you are the olive branch, my love ---  serves you right though, doesn’t it ?

❛  LUKAS  --  ❜   HIS name echoing in the darkness  -- rattling, unsure whether it’s been spoken or whether it’s simply hanging in the dead air that surrounds your body // crushing steel and concrete, dust that hangs in the air and fills your lungs ------- the ringing in your ears so piercing that you think it might last forever, senses dulled and listless for an infinity.. CARELESS --- pulse triggers and chances missed, a cough -- dry and deep as your lips search for more oxygen. ( where are you -- where ?  ) beneath you a familiar warmth spreads out from your hip -- enveloping you in a perfect bloom of comfort, a warmth that grows and floods down, over and across your limbs, seeping into the decayed earth below ---- and that’s where you feel him. feel him before you see him -- a shape, heavy and desperate as knees land next to you and the rubble that remains parts easily, broken beneath him. touch of need // as his arms pull you closer and you try to respond, eyes half closed to the lights that pulse from his angelic  form ----- ❛  lukas ---  ❜  do you hear yourself ? do lips move as you want them to or simply gasp for more, greedy as you try and fill yourself --- you breathe, finally HEAVILY and all you can see is him, all you grasp for is him [ asset ; listen to the heart that beats in your chest --- listen to the breath of life. all is not lost. ] it’s saving you both now, a hand clinging to the cuff of a jacket now covered in ash. a touch of mercy ----  Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo. Santificado sea tu nombre…. 

A CONTENT SMILE ; warm and sated, so deeply felt --- curling inside of you as fingers card loosely through hair of gold --- dark eyes once full of lust, burning for HIM, now finally contented as you settle steadily into your pillow -- a shared afterglow that fills you with a certain warmth only this can provide. his body is littered with the marks of your making, ruby and amethyst runs next to steel --- as precious as any stone bound beneath the earth, you long to touch him ---- you long to soothe and cosset. but this time is precious -- this time is for him to FEEL what you’ve done together. ( precious boy, beloved -- pain you crave hidden so deeply beneath the surface, let me bring it closer into the light… ) the pleasure he feels from this is no longer a surprise, the joy it gives you when he writhes beneath your touch, the CONTROL --- leather bound at his throat, welts across his back, clawing at flesh and exposed instruments of destruction --  illustrated by your own hand and oh, he is the art you have so longed to create ! your life’s greatest passion in the flesh. you crackle with achievement and happiness ; his easy soft smile is like ambrosia and you drink it deeply now - a hand caressing bruises blossoming so delicately , blood at your fingertips as you seek him out --- ❛  you’re beautiful ---  ❜ words dancing across you lips, words that rain down on him as a balm, so proud --- a silent acceptance of gratitude as you lean to place a lingering kiss at his temple - touch of pride, touch of mercy  -- inhaling him again - every groan of agony he’s given rolling around inside of you still. you give everything to him and in return he gives you so much more than you could of ever known possible.  oh sigh, sigh now that you’re here together entwined  ---- ❛ so beautiful.  ❜

THE SIREN DOESN’T REGISTER AT FIRST --- the silence where you are is overwhelming, a moment of peace that finds a place inside of you, a peace you often wish would stay longer than snatched moments rarely won. eyes stay focused on the heavens above, only partially clear -- you wonder show much of it is real ? you remember to yourself the nights you spent under the same stars as a child and now here, laying next to HIM you breathe deeply - cool air dancing across exposed skin as you feel him reach out and pull you hand upwards. a kiss so delicate as blood dries against your cheek -- blood that’s not your own, blood that’s been hard won. eyes close, flickering tight shut. how long will it last ? this feeling, this wholeness of being --- you shuffle closer across the bonnet, head finding his shoulder in the darkness as his thumb trails across the scars that grace your fingertips.  touch of love // of words unspoken and silences held together, an acceptance than this is deeper than either of you have ever known, than you dreamed you would ever feel ---- the wail of sirens growing more distant bleed into the night surrounds you, covers you and protects you ( for now, lover -- for now. ) and for now this will do, you shift you wrap your other arm around his core, the sound of tech whirring beneath you and bringing COMFORT -- this is everything. HE is everything. and you couldn’t ever imagine another place half as perfect. 

Zenith

- Do you know about Zenith? No? I mean you own a computer so you must. I hear the whole planet is covered in one large city.

- Zenith lives up to its name, as it is regarded to be the home to the height technological development in the Magic Universe. It houses the more universities, research institutes and engineering testing fields on its tiny surface than Magics and Earth combined.

- Though it is true that the planetoid is covered with a seemingly uniform cityscape, there are patches of untended ground peeking through, mainly the polar seas.  Antitheva and Bitheva may only classify as large lakes elsewhere, but they are perfectly fit for a small planet of Zenith’s size. They even help populations of merfolk at some point in time.

- The overwhelming amount of construction covering the planet’s surface has long become its vice. With no reflective surfaces left and with machinery forced to operate day and night to fuel the latest technological advancements, the whole planet has become a singular heat trap. The seas were boiling and the air was unbreathably hot. What got research going however was the failing performance of their heavy duty machinery, screws sweating and bending out of shape, lasers blinking tired and unfocused. They devised a plan to cool down the surface of the planet by releasing agents to shield them from the thermal effects of solar rays, and achieved the impossible. Zenith’s climate has since then settled on a comfortable average of 250 K.

- The seas froze over and the merpeople disappeared - or maybe they did already during the boiling phase, out of their luck living off already dead fish. Urban development was given final approval and the last patches of earth disappeared from sight, buried under the striving for more.

- Despite its  aforementioned properties, Zenith is no monolith and it would be amiss to describe it as such. Zeniths countries and cultures are diverse, only connected by their burning need for advancement and their fight against the cold. They have a spectrum of governance forms in the different countries ranging from democracy, constitutional monarchy to representative republic and in some cases even direct democracy of people.

- As cities cover all of the planet, it is difficult to determine where individual settlements in a country begin and end. Country borders are the only demarcations, each government shielding itself with force fields, trenches or physical walls from imagined spies and malevolence.

- Techna’s home of Haikar is in a country that still tries to honour the memory of the separate settlements that have melded together. So Haikar is not a separate town as much as it is just a borough with its own town governance, and is considered to be the capital of Transjordan.

- Other Zenith country names with capitals where applicable: Tribilisi (Kandu), Gorgan, Nuzul (Xihat), Tbaku, Navyol, Urzghar

- Most of these countries don’t get along with each other too well. As is understandable, seeing as they are very culturally diverse. Each wants to be the best though and their most bitterly fought battles are usually over patent rights and the tenure of well-respected scientists. As banal as these reasons seem, as brutal are their methods of mutual sabotage to keep the leading edge.

- Transjordan unfortunately is quite small and has many neighbours, so their paranoia and battle readiness is markedly large even on planet. Growing up, Techna went through disaster and terror awareness training regularly, to the point where they could probably recite what to do in case you found a car bomb better than they could explain a simple recipe.

- Oh and are recipes important! As clean edged people think the inhabitants of Transjordan are, there is nothing minimalist about their food choices. They love combining spices and textures and always serve feasts with generosity rivalling Eraklyon’s. Deserts usually have some sort of fruits, nuts AND some preserve in them, the combinations endless.

- While it is true that for the most part, cultures on Zenith value a simple approach to things. If it can be done in a few words, why waste a sentence on it? Bureaucracy is usually a two-click-formula affair, their whole lives are condensed on a sigle digital display ID, shopping comes to you at home. Hell even marriages are just an affair of simple form signing.

- But food is where they really go full ham. It is not seen as frivolous to waste 10 eggs on a cake, because what you are doing creating nutrition and enjoyment. It is simply reasonable and efficient to go to the max when you do that and create an absolute delicacy you can gorge yourself on in one slice or less.

- So if they are so into feasting and enjoying things with purpose, what gives Zenithians such a bad name? Well, it is just that. People of Transjordan for example, like to enjoy things with purpose. They don’t really care much for music or theatre, they are just activities to air your brain out. They will import off-world made products, but there isn’t a lot of room for cultural arts on Zenith because they channel their passion elsewhere.

- Yes you heard right, Zenithinas have passion galore. They just, in the Universe's most efficient move, channel that passion into the work they already do. The majority of scientific discoveries have been made because somebody cared enough to look deep into a topic and push further, because previous answers were unsatisfactory. Children are coached to find something that inspires this level of devotion in them and have extensive education and support networks to get them there.

- On the topic of children: most of them aren’t the genetic descendants of their parents, rather a random selection from the common gene pool. The public gene pool is a hotly debated topic, but a long established structure of procreation that only the very wealthy have the option to contest. (There is a way to gain approval to sire an own baby from just the genes of two people, but it is extremely costly.)

 In some research some time ago it was determined that for the optimal survival of people on the planet, genetic relation to the parents raising the child was not only suboptimal, but actively detrimental to overall population survival. In this “more civilised” approach, parents apply for a baby who is conceived and birthed in bioreactors. This way no people who can conceive are put through undue stress and the public gene pool babies also carry less hereditary health conditions. It is supposedly a win-win situation, yet it leaves a sour taste in most people’s mouth. No wonder less and less Zenithians plan families if that is the process they have to do it by.

- As straightforward as they are, Zenithians often struggle when communicating with people from other planets and not only because of arising cultural differences. Sure any Zenithian would blush and pale when forced into a situation dealing with overly expressive Solarians, but in any other regular case, the Universal Translation Spell is not on their side either. Jordan is a very logical and to the point language and the floralitiy of other languages is impossible to be transferred to it. The UTS instead produces blocky, difficult to parse translations that often leave Techna confused to the intentions of others.

- It is of course evident that the main industry of the planet is electronics production and R&D. Companies on Zenith produce all manners of gadgets, but they are best in creating refrigeration technology (ironic, right?), astronomic instruments, self-propulsion transportation (vehicles) and medical diagnostic tools and applications. The associated application programming industry is also booming with server houses the size of smaller cities. It is no surprise that Zenith’s electricity consumption is through the roof with such a vital sector to support.

- Before their trade for electricity with Solaria, Zenithian people used static electricity discharges to harvest energy. Their planet being covered with one gigantic city didn’t leave much space for utilising the natural resources of their planet. All the mineral ore having been exhausted, no major flowing waters left and stranded with miserable and cold weather the options for energy sources were limited. What they had however was tall buildings and thunderstorms, so they used lightning harvesters for ages.

- With the storm and snow clouds obscuring the sky most days, Zenith is quite dark. The cities illuminate themselves, kind of like year round festive ornamentation.

- Spirituality is an interesting topic on planet that everyone you ask will have a different answer for. Major parts of Tribilisi and Urzghar for example believe in machine assisted immortality. They see machines as superior to biological matter and work towards the unfallability and omniscience of artificial intelligence in which part of their conscience will be able to rest after death. The predominant belief in Transjordan that Techna grew up with is that after death, there is nothing. Based on the theory of energy conservation, what one doesn’t use and convert into heat will be redistributed into the rest of the world. It is selfish to think one could hold on to any energy after death.

- Most people also don’t care for magic. Sure some magic users crop up among them here and there, but they most likely remain untrained. This is why Techna chose a school off planet to pursue their passion and why they weren’t claimed as a Guardian fairy of Zenith after they graduated. (Since this position doesn’t exist.)

- Almost all things on the planet are solved non-magically accordingly. Their transport systems are unparalleled with some regions using small-distance whole structure replication, aka honest to god matter teleportation. The frozen over seas are also fully utilised with air cushion containerships cruising the flat expanse. Along a certain longitude Zenith also sports a unique feature: the longitudinal crust train. A four meter wide segment of the planet, as if cut out of the surrounding cityscape, moves on straight rails around the whole circumference of the planet. It is the fastest mode of civilian transport available.

- They need all the good transportation and radio transmission they can get - by the way, the Universe Wide Web is also a Zenithian invention, who would have thought - as with their living space limited, Zenithian countries have spilled over onto nearby moons, essentially colonising and terraforming those.

- So, you see, Zenith and either of its countries aren’t by far as boring as one might think on the first glance and most of them certainly don’t shy back from showing emotion.

*       AVAN JOGIA+ CIS MAN+ HE/HIM —— have you seen ROMIL “RJ” JOSHI around? they’re a TWENTY THREE year old LINE COOK known around town as the THE OPAQUE. not only are they broke af, but they’ve been in town for FOUR YEARS. they’re VENTURESOME + SELF MOTIVATED, as well as HEDONISTIC+ FANCIFUL, but what else would you expect from a AQUARIUS? one nail painted a different color from the rest, lips chapped and red from gnawing at the surface whenever they’re lost in thought, and the smell of freshly baked bread on a cool sunday morning.    * OOC INFO: raq. 21. cst. she/her.

hello hello here’s romil! i’ve linked quick things to know /  his wanted connections tag so we can throw together a plot if you’re down! you’re welcome to slide in my dms to plot with me or i’ll pop in to plot with you. would love to see ya’ !

name: romil “rj” joshi

age: twenty-three

date of birth:  february 12th || aquarius sun, aries moon, scorpio rising 

place of birth: albuquerque, new mexico

orientation: bisexual

occupation: line cook at a diner

tl;dr: definitely the guy with about a billion pipe dreams who stays in the town he swears he’ll make it out of one day. well meaning, but probably not as warm as he could be. a big dreamer, who ( thanks to life’s unending twist and turns ) really hasn’t fulfilled a single one of his  goals. incredibly headstrong, but i mean we gotta love him for trying    i keep thinking about the ratitoute musical and how i fully made an anyone can cook ass muse subconscious huh?   sfsad

MUSINGS ///  WANTED CONNECTIONS TAG

MORE IN-DEPTH 

 There isn’t too much about Romil’s early life that veers from the average. Some might say his life was a textbook case of the perfect middle class suburban lifestyle. White picket fences surrounding a happy little family of RJ, his parents, his 3 sisters, and even a family dog. They couldn’t be more average. Far from wealth but abundant in the mundane. His mother’s unrelenting schedule as a registered nurse pretty much gave way to RJ spending a good amount of time with his dad. Most of the time they spent together was in the kitchen as his dad tried about a dozen recipes to somehow satisfy his family full of picky eaters. It’s really those days that would lead RJ to fall in love with cooking. From cooking alongside his dad to making dinner for his family some nights, he definitely found his passion at a very young age.

As he grew older, that passion never really faded. Romil would decide he’d chase his passions. The plan was pretty simple. Get the hell out of New Mexico, ( blah blah, he totally didn’t really plan this middle bit well )  open a restaurant of his own some day, and travel the world with all his profits. Head full of big, bright dreams he’d finish highschool and move to El Dora with his girlfriend. It was all meant to be easy.

Unsurprisingly, his overzealous dreams took a quick halt when he realized it wasn’t as effortless as he hoped it’d be. Everything he was trying to pursue sat at a complete standstill and he was completely and utterly broke. Life on his own so young without the  help of his parents ( much too prideful to reach out to them ) turned out to be a bit tougher than he thought. Bills piled and his relationship would break under the pressure of financial stress. In addition, his own rose-colored glasses of how things were meant to be shatter -- albeit for better or for worse. 

It’s been several years now and there’s been no progress in his original ( as he sees it now ) a little bit frivolous dream. Parts of him still hopes something magical will happen, but even then he doubts. All of which, boils down to where he is now; just a bit stuck in a rut. What was once someone overly lively turned a little bit inward, colder. Jaded by the let downs that he wasn’t quite prepared for. 

PERSONALITY: 

Definitely has a case of big dreams but no thoughts. While he wants alot of things and is rather self motivated to achieve them, he hasn’t a clue really where to start. And he can be a bit too prideful to ever want to ask anyone. The best way I can put is mildly aimless but he just knows he shooting for something. 

Tendency to come off a little mysterious ( it’s the scorpio rising for me lmao). Not at all a social type and tends to keep most people at an arms length. Appears to be feeling great and very happy / proud of about where he is in life on the outisde -- but, he is definitely not. You’d have to know him very well to see though that façade. It’s been too many years and he’s gotten good at it. Though, the loyalist friend you’d probably ever had they’re someone he’s willing to care for. Though, he probably won’t spend a ton of time saying that to them but he might make them a box of cookies randomly just to say i love you.

Often his own big ideas cloud his judgment. Tendency to be blinded by his desire to be successful in something ( as he does feel like quite the failure in everything ). Maybe a little melodramatic at time and definitely self-destructive when things don’t go precisely as he’d “planned”.

Shattered Lives Ch 25 Pt 2

He let her sleep late. He knew it made her feel guilty, the feeling she’d dumped the kids on him but he didn’t see it that way. He was home and he wanted to be a part of the kids lives, of Sildie’s life as much as possible. Life had changed for him and this was his new normal, his new set of top priorities.

It had been a rollercoaster, still was, but what a ride, he grinned as he set the kettle to boil with Lily tucked into him for morning cuddles. “What do you think little lady?” He murmured to the little girl, giving her a slew of kisses on her temple as she snuggled in more. “Should we all move in together? Be a big family?” Her hand clenched his shirt and that soft dad dad melted his heart. “Yeah. That’s what I thought too.” He chuckled and kissed her again, the boys piling into chairs around the table to start breakfast.

There were jokes and giggles from the twins as they ate but Gustaf noticed Brendan was quieter than usual. He knew why, the teen was anxious about Sildie going away. The what if’s, the separation, the stark reminder of what happened last time a parent went away. Watching the kid carefully he decided, even though Sildie had said to leave it, he couldn’t, he couldn’t take her away knowing Brendan was feeling this way. He knew she wouldn’t relax and neither would Brendan, which defeated the purpose of the weekend.

“You ok B?” He asked quietly once the twins had gone to take their showers.

“I’m ok.” He said softly but Gustaf knew that underlying anxiety, the one that simmered before it full on hit you over the head, turning your world inside out.

“You can tell me anything B you know that right? No judgement.” He pushed gently.

“I know.” His half smile only made Gustaf’s heart ache. The kid wasn’t going to budge and he couldn’t push it before school. The brave face routine would only last so long before the teen would crumble.

“Ok, well, you know I’m here for you right?”

“Yep.” The teen said quickly and moved off to rinse and stack his dish before going to yell at the twins to get out of the shower and stop horsing around.

“Hmmm, we’ll just have to chat with him tonight huh little lady?” Lily squealed as they made their way into the bedroom to wake Sildie.

How was it the woman nearly stopped his heart every damn morning, he wondered? He wanted to kiss her, from toes to brow and take his sweet time waking her up, then ravaging her senseless. Unfortunately, she had to work, and the ravaging would have to wait.

“You could just come over here and kiss me instead of thinking about it.” She mumbled into the pillow.

And she was a mind reader, he smirked. He sat on the edge of the bed and put Lily down before stroking a knuckle down her cheek and tucking the stray wave of copper behind her ear.

“My goddess.” He murmured and kissed her tenderly. “How is it you get more beautiful each day?”

“I think you need glasses.” She snorted.

His kiss was nothing short of electric, one of those that shot to her core and sent her pussy throbbing. Tomorrow couldn’t get her fast enough she thought. He lingered, she could feel his need as much as her own.

“Up you get love.” He murmured softly, kissing her again. “Cases to close.”

“Mmmm. More kisses first.” She smirked, leaning in for another.

“No.” He chuckled. “No more until you’re dressed, or you and the kids are going to be very late.” He grumbled and stood up holding his hand out for hers.

“Spoil sport.” She huffed as the grin spread across her face.

“Indeed I am.” He sighed. She threw back the covers and took his hand letting out a small yelp as he pulled her to him. Warm and naked and soft. “Fuck you feel good.” He growled before kissing her passionately, those hands dangerous over her skin. She was breathless when he reluctantly let her go.

She sauntered to the bathroom with a smirk and his groan was all it took to make her laugh wickedly.

“Woman you are too much.” He mumbled as he fell face first onto the bed with a grin before rolling off and collecting Lily, her wicked chuckle the only sound as she shut the door.

He had the kids ready to go by the time she ventured out, his lawyer looking every bit the sex kitten she was. She was teasing him in her see through off white blouse, the black lace beneath whispering to him seductively. He wanted to rip it clean off her, bend her over the table, and take her hard.

“You’re going to be in all sorts of trouble tomorrow my love, teasing me like this.” He murmured as she came into the kitchen. He stood behind her and let his already hardening cock press against her ass. “You feel and smell good enough to eat.” He growled and she felt her pussy clench.

“Tomorrow love.” She chuckled, and wiggled her ass, his groan worth the nip to her ear.

“I know but, damn woman you turn me on.” He kissed her below the ear and got the soft whimper he was after. “Eat, fuel up, you’re going to need it for today.”

“You sure you’re ok with the kids tonight?” She asked eating a pancake he’d plated for her.

“Yes, I’ll swing past with lunch and we can trade cars.” He kissed her quickly before chasing Lily, catching her giggling and squealing he took her to get ready.

Normal, she thought, normal and happy and what their family should have been like with Quinn and Dana. She glanced at the digital frame cycling through their wedding photos, life was so unfair sometimes. She caught the sob and breathed it out, cursing that she’d let that grief bubble up and take hold.

“Fuck I miss you.” She sighed to the heavens. Reigning it in she shoved the grief down as Gustaf came back into the living area with a giggling Lily. She couldn’t let it into their weekend, her grief was for her birthday so she’d lock it down until then.

With the kids all packed and ready, lunches made, he stood on her threshold, a happy Lily in her arms singing dad dad for all to hear. He could see the grief, she was burying it, but it was there. My love, you can’t hide it from me, he thought, but nice of you to try.

“See you for lunch.” He said softly, kissing her tenderly. “Around twelve?”

“Yeah that’ll work.” Her smile warmed him. “Don’t break my admin.” She grinned.

“All I said was hello, how are you?” He chuckled.

“Bye love.” She laughed and he kissed her, that slow burn that made her tingle.

“Bye.” He kissed her quickly before she stepped into the elevator. “Bye kids, have a good day.” His face lit up at their smiles and waves. He couldn’t be happier he thought as he closed the door and walked to her room to take a shower.

He thought about Brendan and what might be going on in the kids head, could see the anxiety rippling just under the surface. Dressed he sat for meditation in his apartment, the urge to clear his mind before the weekend was strong. He breathed out and let his thoughts drift.

He’d talk with Brendan tonight, gently coax it out of him, listen, have a good cry if that’s what the kid needed. It was still a learning curve for him, for them all. Learning how to help them without pushing them to deal with something they weren’t ready to face. Like not pushing his brother into their faces he thought wryly, like you did the other night. “Slow and steady.” He breathed. “Just be the big brother he needs.”

His mind drifted to his notebook. The toxic pages that held his pain, his fear. He would take that damn thing with him tomorrow and torch it. They’d have an open fire at the cabin and he would see it destroyed, he would close that chapter of his life, he would move past it with Sildie, for Sildie, for himself.

He felt different as he thought about Ana. The pain had diminished, the anxiety gone. “She has no power over me anymore.” He murmured. “I’m not what she tried to make me.” His voice was strong and unwavering. “I will be rid of her.” There was no anger in his words now, just absolute conviction. “After this weekend, it’ll be done.” He let the breath slowly and calmly leave him.

He opened his eyes and focused his mind on Sildie. “Maybe her ripping into me was what I needed to get me past it.” He huffed and a grin split across his face.

He ran through everything she’d said the other evening. Her grief was in the forefront but having her independence shackled had brought out a different rage. Remembering her brief outline of her past relationship he breathed out. “You fool.” He muttered. “You should have paid more attention to what she’d said back then.” Taking a deep breath he focused on Sildie. “You have to wait for her to ask for help. You can offer, but you can’t force it.” He admitted to himself he’d been a little heavy handed, a little more forceful than he should have been. He had to back off.

Her panic attack concerned him, they were far worse than he’d ever experienced. He’d honestly thought she was going to stop breathing and pass out at one point, that wheeze was terrifying. He’d done that, he’d forced her into a situation she wasn’t ready for. His eyes snapped open. “You can’t do that to her ever again.” He growled, furious at himself.

He went through everything she’d told him like it was a shopping list. Pulling it apart, analyzing, and deciding how he would handle it in the future. He was determined not to make the same mistakes twice. “I just have to slow down, play it cool, be the calm she needs. I’m going to burn the notebook and then tell her I love her.” He blew out a breath and opened his eyes. “No pressure.” He quipped sarcastically as he stood.

He packed a bag for the trip and headed over to Sildie’s. Tidying up he made sure he had something ready to cook for the kids tonight when they got home, even though he knew they’d pressure him for pizza. He made a few calls, one of them to Bill. He’d agreed to come over and have some game time with the boys. Gustaf hoped it would settle them a little more with Christmas approaching, give the kids another friendly face they knew.

He tucked the notebook into his bag and set it by the door. Grabbing his keys and phone he threw his coat on and headed out to get coffee with Daisy and pick up some lunch for Sildie.

“Risotto I think.” He muttered, turning the key in the ignition. It was a bitterly cold day with the threat of rain which could turn to snow, perfect risotto weather.

It was a busy morning and before she knew it she was finishing up her last meeting before her lunch with Gustaf. Being busy was the best distraction. She wanted to dwell on her brother but couldn’t allow it, she couldn’t go to that dark place, not now. She couldn’t face those memories or that depth of grief, it was too overwhelming.

It wasn’t fair to Gustaf, to the kids. He’d spent time and money on this trip to relax and reconnect, she wouldn’t allow it to taint that, not if she could help it. He was trying so hard to let go of Ana, to get past it and she had to get him through that first.

“Next Thursday Sildie?” Oliver said as he waved a hello to Gustaf.

“Yes, we’ll have the discovery documentation ready to go by then too.” She tensed at seeing Gustaf here even though she was expecting him. She knew all eyes were on him, on them.

She shook hands with her client and watched as Gustaf got to his feet, a woman she didn’t recognize standing beside him.

“I’m at lunch Vera.” She said gently and watched her admin nod, those dreamy eyes lock on Gustaf.

“Hello my love.” He murmured softly and kissed her cheek. “Relax, I won’t let them eat you, that’s my job.” He grinned and pecked her cheek again at her snort. “This is Daisy, we had coffee earlier.” He watched her face light up at the familiar name.

“It’s nice to put a face to the name.” She said softly and shook Daisy’s hand.

“Likewise.”

“And thank you for taking care of the correspondence on his last trip away.” Sildie was speaking generally because she knew people were listening in. “I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime, and I mean it. It’s no trouble.”

“Thanks, we’ll talk. Are you joining us for lunch?” She asked hoping she wasn’t but understood if Gustaf had invited her.

“No, I have an appointment in, crap twenty minutes,” She swore looking at her watch. “so I’m going to split. It was great to meet you and yes, we’ll talk.” She gave Gustaf a sidelong glance and chuckled.

“I suddenly feel ganged up on.” He said sarcastically.

“In a good way.” Sildie grinned.

“Ah ha, sure.” He said suspiciously as Daisy smiled innocently at him.

“Bye G, chat Tuesday.”

“Bye.” Gustaf chuckled.

“Come on, I need food and less of an audience.” She grumbled.

“I can stop coming if it’s too much love.” He said softly as she closed the door.

“No, it’s not that it’s, fuck I don’t know. I’m not ready for everyone to start making assumptions and asking questions about us, about the kids.” She huffed and flopped onto the sofa. “I’m not ready for them to start poking their noses in where it doesn’t belong.”

He carefully sat the food down on her coffee table and joined her. Brushing his knuckles along her cheek she turned to look at him. His kiss was tender, that heartbreaking love surging into her that he kept locked away from the outside world.

“I’ll go and talk to everyone if that’ll make you feel better. Smooth it over.” He watched her, calculating. He could see part of her wanted him to, but no, she wouldn’t stand for that unless she did it herself.

She shook her head. “No, I just need to stop being so sensitive to it.”

“Give it time.” He kissed her, tongue teasing and it robbed her of breath when he pulled away. “Eat now, I have other stuff to talk to you about.”

“And what’s that?” She asked opening her risotto and moaning her approval.

“Brendan.” He said simply and waited until she relaxed back and started eating. “He’s anxious about us leaving. I saw it this morning.”

“Yeah I picked up on it in the car on the way to school.” She said gently.

“I hate to say it but we can cancel if you think we should? I don’t want him freaking out while we’re away.” He said and saw the shake of her head. “Normal separation anxiety is one thing love, but a full on panic attack would be something else.”

“No. When I asked him he said he wanted us to go but to phone when we get there. I don’t want it becoming a habit that the kids freak out about something and we cancel plans. I have to get them past it.”

“I’ll talk with him tonight.” He put his hand up when she was about to argue with him. “I need to Sildie. I need to know I’ve done all I can to ease them into this.” He kept his tone calm.

She snapped her mouth shut, he had a point. “You’re right.” She said sharply.

“But I’ll back off if...” He knew that tone.

“No, you’re right.” She shook her head and leaned over to kiss him. “We need to get them past it. It’s not just me anymore. Maybe he needs to hear it from you too.”

“I don’t want to push Sildie, but I do want to help.” He could see she wasn’t too happy about it but she was trying. She was trying to yield a little, let him take some of it on, he was trying to ask not just bully his way over her like he had. Maybe she had listened to something he’d said the other night, he thought, he certainly had.

“I know, and I have to bend a little here.” She kissed him again. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a control freak over it.”

“They’re your kids love, I just want to help.” He said softly.

“You are.” She watched him, that lanky frame folded up, elbows on his knees, eating and her heart melted. This kind gentle soul who would do anything, literally anything, to see her and the kids hurt a little less, grieve a little less. She was so gone over him. “Will you let me know how it goes?”

“Of course. I suspect he’ll cry it out which is what I’m hoping for instead of the anxiety meltdown he’s heading toward.” He sat back and relaxed as he finished.

“I really don’t want to cancel this weekend.” She said softly.

“Then we won’t.” He rested a hand on her knee and squeezed gently. “I understand why you don’t want to, it’s a habit we can’t fall into, they can’t fall into. I get it love, but know that the option is always there, no judgement. We’ll figure it out, together, but at the end of the day, they’re your kids, your decision.”

She blew a breath out. “Yeah. I just wish it wasn’t so fucking difficult all the time.”

“It’ll get easier.” He said softly.

She snorted as she tidied up their trash and went out to get them a tea each. When, she thought, when the fuck was any of this going to get easier?Placing the teacups on the table she shut the door and went to sit on the sofa. Gustaf pulled her into his lap and kissed her, that slow burn, a promise of more.

“How much more do you have to do tonight love?” He asked kissing her again.

“A fair bit. I’m hoping to be home around eight but it might be later.”

“Good thing I brought you dinner as well.” He pointed to the second bag on the table. “There a huge slice of lasagne in there, make sure you eat it.” He kissed her again. “I know you.” He said grinning. “You’ll work solid until you drop. I’ll text you at seven to make sure you’ve eaten.”

Her laugh was one of slight irritation. “I’ll eat.” She huffed.

“Yes you will. And you can huff at me all you want you know I’m right.” His grip tightened around her and he kissed her longingly. “I like these curves right where they are.” He let his hands wander up her skirt a little, his fingers teasing the soft skin where her lace top stockings finished. “Make sure they stay there.” He growled and kissed her again.

She had to capitulate. He wasn’t wrong, she’d work herself into the ground given half the chance and she needed to give in a little. He was trying to take care of her and she needed to let him without taking it as an insult to her independence. She needed to stop being so stubborn.

They enjoyed their tea, the soft tender kisses, a promise of more later. The quiet knock at the door had her rising and opening it to find her admin.

He tidied their cups and stood, knowing their time was up and she needed to get back to it.

“I’m sorry my one o’clock is here.” She said as he came to the door.

“I’ll see you tonight. Don’t work too late love.” He said as she walked him out. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and a wink as he left her to it. Damn she thought, just that wink alone made her wet.

Gustaf busied himself with grocery shopping, making sure to stock up on the kids favorites. He was spoiling them sure, but he wanted them to have a good weekend too. By the time he was done he headed to pick the kids up, the three o’clock pickup giving them more time to spend together.

Gustaf noticed the twins were full of laughter while Brendan was still on the slow simmer. He’d deal with that after dinner if the kid didn’t implode first. They helped get the groceries upstairs and Gustaf smiled at the memory of their first meet nearly eight months ago.

The twins set the groceries on the counter and disappeared to take care of homework, Brendan lingered. He would wait for the teen to come to him, he had to play this cool and calm. Gustaf let the kid help put away the shopping and have the silence. If he was going to reach out and talk, it had to be on his terms.

Gustaf sat Lily down on the floor to play with her toys as he heard the sniff from Brendan, he could see the tears and his heart broke for him. He pulled the teen into a hug as the kids hands shook, emotion winning out and engulfing him. Brendan clung to Gustaf as the sobs raged through him, the older male being the steadying force the boy needed to ground himself.

“Easy kid.” Gustaf murmured as Brendan gave him a good hard shove, the anger spiking before he melted into him again crying. “Easy.” He sighed softly. “You’re ok.”

“I want dad.” He mumbled which sounded more like a whine between the sobs.

“I know. I’m sorry Brendan. There’s just me now and I know it’s not the same, but it’s all I got dude.” Gustaf held him tighter. “What else is going on B?”

“I’m scared.” He said simply, a little embarrassed at being thirteen and sobbing because he was scared.

“About us going away?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough.”

“I want you to go but I’m scared.” He sniffed.

“Scared something will happen, that we won’t come back?” All the kid could do was nod as a fresh wave of tears started to fall. “What can I do to make it better B?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t keep us safe from everything. I can try by saying I’ll drive carefully, we’ll have our seatbelts on, call when we get there, take very precaution we can for a safe trip. But other than that we just have to wing it. Unfortunately with life, you just have to do the best you can to be safe and leave the rest up to the universe.” He kept his voice calm, he had no clue if he was doing this right. “I’ll cancel if that’s what you need me to do.” He said after a long silence. “I’ll be bummed about it but I’ll do it if that’s going to set your mind at ease. I don’t want you freaking out all weekend.” Sildie would be furious but the kids came first, she’d made that clear at the very beginning of their relationship.

“No.” Brendan shook his head and looked up at Gustaf. He’d said the same thing to Sildie. “I want you to go because like Ama said we all have to move forward, but I’m just scared something will happen and I’ll never see you again.”

“It’s ok to be scared, and it’s understandable considering what you’ve all gone through. I’ll take good care of Ama you know that right?” He said as Brendan pulled away nodding so he could grab a tissue. “I’d do anything for her B.”

“I know. You take good care of her.” Brendan said simply and it made Gustaf’s heart swell to hear it. “Of us.”

“I need you to trust me to take care of her. I know that’s what you’ve been doing isn’t it? Making sure she eats, helping out, you’ve been taking care of her because she’s had no one like your dad to take care of her?” The kid nodded. “That’s what I thought. I need you to let me worry about that now, ok? You just concentrate on being a kid and kicking my brothers ass this weekend.” He grinned and Brendan huffed a chuckle drying the tears and trying to smile. “You had to grow up way to quickly B and be the man of the house for Ama and your brothers, little miss Lily. Let me do that now ok? That’s a burden you don’t need to shoulder anymore and I think your dad would be ok with that.” He could see the relief relax the kids shoulders. That all consuming stress virtually melted off him.

“Thanks.” Brendan said quietly as he blew a breath out. “Sorry for crying like a girl all over you.” He huffed, trying to lighten the mood.

“Nothing wrong with crying, we all do it, even me.” He smiled softly at the teen. “Just ask Ama how much of a girl I cry like.” He grinned and he got the chuckle from Brendan he was after. “I love her, and I’ll do everything in my power to see her happy and to make sure she’s safe.”

“I know.” Brendan hugged Gustaf hard before pulling back to help to start dinner.

“We good?”

“Yeah.”

Gustaf knew that Brendan should be doing homework but he also knew cooking helped the kid relax and his emotional state of mind was more important. They ate and laughed but Gustaf couldn’t help but feel slightly strange at Sildie not being with them for dinner. He texted her once the dishes were stacked in the sink, Brendan was doing homework, and the twins settled into their nightly routine.

Time to eat love, fuel that wicked smart brain of yours.

There was no answer and he smiled as Lily wobbled and walked over to him. Sildie was probably in lawyer land completely oblivious. He kept texting her until she replied.

I’m eating jeez.

Don’t sass me love, you promised.

He grinned as her text came in, the photo of the half eaten lasagne on her desk, and he had no doubt she was probably chewing her bottom lip and grumbling at him.

You still have a way to go.

No way I’m finishing this, it’s a huge slice.

Half at least.

Quarter at most, now let me get back to work.

How much longer before you can head home?

A few more hours.

Sildie, don’t wear yourself out.

Gustaf, butt out.

His eyebrows shot up with her retort. It was rare she snapped out at him like that. He let it go not wanting it to get out of hand any further before she got home. He didn’t need her imploding tonight, she’d had enough for this week.

“You still here Sildie?” Oliver said as he stopped suddenly by her open door seeing that there was someone in her office.

“Yeah, squaring things always before my four day weekend.” She said as she texted Gustaf to butt out and let her work. She was really hoping Oliver would leave her to it as well.

“I think out of everyone here you work the hardest.” He said softly.

“I doubt that, you’re still here Oliver.” She smirked.

“Yeah but I’m senior partner and cofounder so I have to be. You on the other hand aren’t, yet you do the hours regardless. Why is that?” He was curious at what made her tick.

She shrugged. “It’s my job.”

“No, not like this it isn’t.” He watched her carefully. “Have you thought about partner?”

“A little.”

“And?”

“Off the record?” She said offering him a seat and dropping her pen. She didn’t want to have this conversation now but it looked as though they were having it.

“Sure.” He said taking a seat.

“I’m not sure I want it.” She said honestly and watched his eyebrows arch up. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great opportunity, good money, and everything a lawyer works for, but life has changed for me Oliver, and I don’t know if I want it like I did before taking on four kids solo.”

He nodded and tented his fingers in front of him thinking. “Ok, that’s fair enough. For arguments sake, what would we have to do to get you to agree to take it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sildie, we want you as partner, we love your work, your ethics, everything, and we believe you are the right fit for this firm in moving forward, our future plan if you will. We all understand the home situation and fully support your decision if that’s what you truly want. But let’s talk hypothetical for a moment. Say you accepted, what would we need to do to accommodate you with the kids?”

“At the moment I have no clue to be honest.” She said a little dumbstruck at his words. “The main issue would be time. I can’t devote anymore time to work without sacrificing time with the kids.”

“Ok, I’m sure we could work something out there. Would some work from home hours help? Longer days one or two days a week in the office to have more time on other days to have off?”

“I’m not sure I’d have to look at it.” She hesitated. “There’s also the cost.” She put up her hand and knew what he’d say. “I know Oliver, to make partner means you buy into the firm and I’m fully aware and in agreeance. I’ve saved for an extension in my apartment for Lily’s bedroom because she currently sleeps with me. Once that’s done I’d be able to take on the partner loan if I were to accept. I just need a little leeway.” She wouldn’t sacrifice her plans again for this, the kid needed a bedroom and she wasn’t going to see the universe fuck with her plans anymore. It just meant her saving a would be non existent once she paid for a new car.

“I’m sure we could arrange something.”

“I’m still finding my feet with managing my career and the kids, and now Gustaf. It’s a lot Oliver and I don’t want to take on partner and have my world implode because I took too much on. That’s not fair on me, on the kids, or on the firm.” It was the truth and she wouldn’t be persuaded by money or pushed into something she wasn’t ready for. That had happened enough with taking care of four kids that were pushed on her. No not pushed, rammed down her fucking throat was more like it.

“Would you do something for me?” He asked gently.

“Sure.”

“I’d like you to write down your list of compromises. Say I gave you partner tonight, what would we have to do, or change, or make exceptions for, for you to accept.” He watched as her eyebrow arched, she hadn’t seen that coming he thought.

“Ok, I can do that.” She said softly.

“Everything, write it all down. I don’t want to force it on you but I also don’t want to see you get passed over because you needed a few compromises to make life work with the kids. We care Sildie, and in case you haven’t heard it enough, I’m proud of you. Not just the work you do for us but the way you handle everything outside of the office. It can’t be easy.”

“It’s not.” She snorted. “Somedays I wonder if I’m in way over my head but what other options do I have.”

“None if you want to keep the kids together and see them grow into functioning adults.”

“Exactly.” She said simply. And this was why her and Oliver got along so well, he got it and she didn’t have to sugarcoat anything.

“Enough work for now. Pack up and go home, it can wait until Tuesday.”

“I just have to finish...”

“It wasn’t a request Ms. O’Rourke.” He smirked standing. “Go home.”

“Ok, ok, going.” She conceded, there was no way she was arguing with the boss.

“Think about partner.” He said softly.

“I will.”

“Goodnight Sildie, have a great weekend, rest, you’ve more than earned it.” He said as she packed up her desk. “I’m locking up. Don’t be here when I come back to my office to collect my bag. And Sildie.” He said gently and she stopped to look up at him. “You’re a damn good lawyer, don’t ever forget that.” He said as he left.

It was just past eight when he heard the key in the door and smiled. Home earlier than expected, and he could tell she was in a mood just at the way she yanked her key out of the door, something had happened with the later half of her day.

She stopped and looked at him as he took her bag and melted. All the frustration and anxiety of the partner talk with Oliver just fell away. She kissed him, no words, just kissed him and wrapped her arms around him. This was what she needed, him to come home to.

“You ok love?” He asked gently.

“I am now.” She kissed him again and he deepened it. “Mmmm definitely ok now.”

“You finished early?”

“No, I go kicked out by Oliver.” She shrugged. “We had a long chat and I’ll fill you in once I’m showered.”

“Go shower and I’ll make tea. I have stuff to tell you too.” He kissed her again before taking her bag to the table while she kicked off her shoes and went to shower.

She found him reading at the table looking delicious as always.

“Feel better?” He asked as her hands rested on his shoulders to then drift down his chest.

“Yes.” She mumbled into his neck kissing him, breathing him in to calm herself. “I’m sorry I was snippy with my texts.” She kissed him again before he pulled her onto his lap.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah I was just trying to get through it all and then Oliver came in and we talked about partner.”

“And?” His belly tightened, he really hoped she was going to accept it.

“I told him I wasn’t sure I wanted it and he asked if I’d make a list of accommodations. They want me, I’m still not sure.”

“Well you have time to think about it. Don’t give them an answer unless you’re ready and sure it’s what you want.” His fingers toyed with her hair, tucking it behind her ear before kissing her tenderly. “I missed you at dinner tonight. It felt weird eating here with the kids without you.” He chuckled.

“And that’s one of the reasons I don’t want partner.” She shrugged. “It’ll eat away at my time with the kids, with you. I don’t know, it just feels like it’s less of a career now and more like a job to pay the bills. I love what I do but...”

“Maybe you’re just overwhelmed with everything else? Do the list they asked for and see where it gets you. The worst that’s going to happen is they say no and you stay exactly where you are.” He kissed her again and deepened it, tongue teasing as his hands gripped her thigh. “You smell so good.” He growled as he leaned forward to pour their tea.

“Brendan ok?” She asked gently.

“Yeah, he had a good cry, we had a good chat. He’s ok.” He wouldn’t go into detail unless she forced him to.

“Us going away?” She asked and sat up to sip her tea.

“Mostly. He’s scared we won’t come home, which considering the situation, is understandable.” He watched her carefully. He hoped he hadn’t stepped over a line.

“I hate doing the tough love thing but we have to get past this first separation.” She said softly as his knuckles brushed her cheek. “I fucking hate knowing he’s upset about it. It rips at me.”

“I think he’ll be ok. He’ll be a little anxious but it won’t be as bad now we’ve both talked to him.” He kissed her, that slow, tender kiss that made her toes curl.

“Anything else I need to know about?” She asked sipping her tea and placing it on the table.

“Nope. We talked about guy stuff, and he had a good cry.” The rest of their conversation wasn’t necessary for Sildie to know about and he didn’t want to betray the kids trust. There had to be some sort of confidence between them or the teen would never open up to him.

She leaned her head against his forehead and relaxed as he placed his teacup on the table and held her. “Thank you.” She said gently. “For being here, for being someone that he can come to.”

“Always love. Together remember.” He smiled as he kissed her brow. “I’m so ready for tomorrow.” He breathed out. “Have you packed yet?” He smirked, she shook her head and looked at him.

“What time are we leaving?”

“I was thinking after I drop the kids off at school. But it can be later if you want to sleep in.”

“I’ll drop them at school with you. I want to see them off before we go.” She was nervous herself.

“They’ll be fine love.” He said seeing her mind start to chew on it. “Alice has all our numbers and Bill is coming over Saturday to spend the day with them playing games. He’s been at me since Tuesday to come over and get to know them.” He saw her nod but her face dropped, shock more than anything. “Aaaand you’re not ok with it, because I forgot to ask you. Shit I’m sorry Sildie I should have asked but...” You fucking idiot he screamed internally, how can you fuck up so much?

“It’s fine.” She smiled as her hand cupped his cheek. “It’s fine.” She kissed him sweetly. “It’ll be good for them to know someone when we go for Christmas and they seemed to take a shine to him when they met him even though they were a little reserved.”

“I was sort of thinking along the same lines.” His voice quiet, he should have cleared it with her first. He filed that away for later, something else he had to remember, she was the boss when it came to the kids. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, it’s another one of those things I have to bend on.”

“Yeah but I need to tell you. I just forgot.” He kissed her. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ll get it right next time.” She chuckled and was determined not to make this a big deal like Tuesday night because it wasn’t. It was a learning curve for them both and she was trying so hard not to be the control freak and snap at him about it.

They finished their tea and decided to get an early night. She was beat, the week had caught up with her and he could see it. Curling her in he settled with a book and read as she went under. Sleep took her fast and deep.

Good, he thought, she’d be well rested for tomorrow and the thought made him grin. He waited until she was out cold before closing his book, placing it on the nightstand, and turning off the light. He snuggled her in and sleep claimed him soon after.

He was roused a few hours later by a tiny body pressed against his back, an arm finding its way around his neck. He’d vaguely heard the bedroom door open and once he opened his eyes and woke a little more he realized the tiny body was crying.

“You ok buddy?” He asked groggily as he carefully started to roll so he didn’t wake Sildie, or squash the kid. He wasn’t sure which twin he was dealing with yet but had a feeling it was separation related.

“No.” Came a muffled voice.

“Come here little man.” Gustaf curled an arm around and snuggled the kid in. He was obviously upset about something. “Who’ve I got here? Finn or Liam?” He asked, placing a kiss to the kids head and trying to wake his brain up enough to function.

“Finn.” He sniffed. “Can I stay with you?” He asked simply.

“Sure. Can you tell me what’s got you all upset?” He murmured.

“Scary dream.” He sniffed and Gustaf felt the tears land on his skin.

“Ahh, those aren’t much fun are they?” The boy shook his head, no. “Can you tell me what it’s about?”

“No, it’s stupid.” He huffed.

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Gustaf said honestly.

“You didn’t come home.” He said quickly as fresh tears fell. “Ever. And then we had to put you in the ground like dad.”

Gustaf could read between the lines, they were pretty clear. “You’re scared I’m not going to come home after the weekend?” He asked gently and Finn nodded. “I’ll be ok, so will Ama, she’ll take good care of me and make sure I get home to you safely.”

“That’s what dad said to Mum too.” He said quietly.

Gustaf was racking his brain, he wasn’t equipped for this at two in the morning. He gave Finn a similar explanation as he gave Brendan and it seemed to settle him. How did you explain to a seven year old that sometimes life just sucked and people you love die? It’s outrageously unfair, but accidents happen and you can’t foresee them all, you have to wing it.

“Make sense?” He asked as Finn processed his words. “Ama will call when we get there ok?”

“Ok.” He nodded. “Can I still stay with you?”

“You can stay. Straight to sleep now, you have school tomorrow.”

“Gustaf?” He said softly.

“Yeah bud?”

“I love you.”

“Love you too little man. Sleep now.”

Gustaf lay there thinking of their brief conversation and tried to shelve it for tomorrow. Finn crashed out pretty quickly, obviously feeling safe and secure enough. Eventually sleep claimed him again and took him deep.

***********

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector

cute without the e | emo!jim x reader

the ship: emo!jim x reader

the song: taking back sunday - cute without the e

the summary: emo!jim wants to try out a stereotypical kink

the mission: cheer up my beautiful wife @shenevertricks1831​. i hope this helps baby!

warnings: vigorous sex, knifeplay (/razorblade-play), bloodplay, squirting, dom!jim, cockblocking sandy, mention of self harm, slight fluff if you squint

word count: 2.1k

“Mom, please, keep your voice down,” Jim pleaded in a gravelly hushed tone, nervously twisting his lip ring with the tip of his tongue.

“I will not keep my fucking voice down just because you brought a girl home,” Sandy hissed, hands flailing in the air as her means of expressing her blood boiling beneath the surface. “And quit playing with that fucking lip ring, you look desperate.”

Sandy was always aware how much her words hurt her son, but they still poured unfettered from her lips like diluted poison. Her fierce protectiveness of Jim only intensified with every day that passed without Phil, her life force aimed at the defence of her son in exchange for the wasted efforts on saving her marriage.

“I really like her, mom,” Jim’s gaze dropped awkwardly to his feet, hands weaving through his choppy black layers. “She’s a great girl.”

“I don’t care about your bullshit excuses, Jim Mason, you sound like your fucking father talking about his stupid whore.” Her snarls through pursed lips and gritted teeth skewed her face into that of someone Jim didn’t recognise. Someone Jim didn’t want to keep fighting against.

“Believe what you want, mom, you need to go and calm down,” Jim’s defensive palms flew into the air between him and Sandy as he backed tentatively through his bedroom door, clicked it closed and swiftly sliding the lock.

“I... I guess you heard all that, huh?” Jim sighed, collapsing onto the bed beside you and wearily wiping his eyes, oblivious to the smoky black smudges he created as his fingertips swept across his thick eyeliner.

You sat cross-legged atop the duvet, tugging at the loose threads on your jeans, the thin knee holes you chopped into the black denim fraying recklessly like your sanity mere moments before Jim burst into his room. “It’s okay, Jim. These things happen.”

“I’m sure your parents don’t call me a whore when I come over,” he blinked back tears, weaving his fingers through his hair, poker straight and a deep black that shone electric blue in the sunlight.

“Parents don’t understand and they never will, they haven’t grown up the same as us. They haven’t sat through an entire Taking Back Sunday record and fought back tears.”

Jim pouted, twirling his lip ring.

“Sorry, Jim, I should go—“

As you stretched out your legs to leave, Jim grasped your thigh.

“Please, don’t go,” Jim hummed softly, leaning in to plant a light peck on your cheek before bumping his forehead against yours. “Don’t let her spoil this.”

You swallowed thickly, focusing on his I fingertips digging into your jeans, his chipped black nail polish sinking comfortably into the denim. Your gaze wandered up his form, lingering on his AFI shirt you bought him for his birthday. You paused at his lips, his black lip ring sinking into his mouth as he chewed down nervously. Journeying up to his eyes, deep and piercing like the boundless waves beyond his bedroom window, they stared back at you warmly.

“Come here, princess,” he husked, cupping your face with both hands and drawing you in for a haunting kiss, his lips consuming yours with a hungry intent, sitting up to tower over you and deepen his infinitely passionate embrace. He mumbled into your mouth with a low growl, “I want you so badly.”

“What if your mom hears us?”

“Good thinking,” Jim hummed, smiling against your lips as he reached for his phone in his back pocket. With a few blind taps, somehow without breaking your kiss, his bedroom speakers broke into song.

Your lipstick, his collar, don't bother, angel

“You’re such a fucking emo,” you chuckled into his mouth, tugging his shirt before parting from his lips to cast the black cotton across his room.

I know exactly what goes on

“You love it really,” he giggled with a quirked eyebrow, decimating your shirt in the same manner and leaving his fingertips lingering impatiently at the top your studded belt. “Almost as much as I love you but much more than I love these fucking jeans that I can never get off you.”

When everything you'll get is everything that you've wanted, princess

Rolling your eyes and curling the corner of your lips, you battled with your buckles and zips as Jim practically drooled over you stripping for him. Laying back against the pillows to slip the denim past your hips, Jim gulped uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

Well, which would you prefer?

“That’s it,” he growled, gripping your jeans and sliding them past your knees before slithering between your thighs. “Stay just like that, baby girl.”

My finger on the trigger or me face down, down across your floor?

Anticipation hitched in your throat as his one hand lay gently in the valley of your pelvis, the other grappling his length from beneath his jeans. Cursing himself for putting on three studded belts that morning, he finally battled himself free and proceeded to run his tip over your clothed folds, gradually dampening at his mere presence.

Well, just so long as this thing's loaded

“Jim,” you husked through gentle gasps, hips rutting frantically up to him. “I need you inside me.”

And will you tell all your friends, you've got your gun to my head?

“Not just yet, be patient for me little dove.” Jim fixed a soft peck on your forehead before diving over to the bedside cabinet, tucking into a drawer and retrieving a small gleaming razorblade. Your breaths stilled as you clocked its flawless silver sheen, reflecting beautifully in the bayside sunset beaming into his room.

This all was only wishful thinking

Pinching the blade between his fingers and spinning it idly in his grasp, a devious grin crept across his full lips, his gaze darted back to your eyes to discover the glint of fear in them.

And will you tell all your friends you've got your gun to my head?

As much as you trusted Jim, he’d never wanted to hurt you before and, holding a shimmering razorblade above you, it certainly looked like that was his intention.

This all was only wishful thinking, let's go

“Can I…” he trailed off, not sure how to describe his intentions. Hovering the blade over your breast, he traced a small letter J in the space just above your skin, moving to your other breast to mime a letter M over it. “Is that—“

Don't bother trying to explain, angel

“Of course it’s okay, Jim,” you smiled contentedly once he’d explained his idea. Resting your hands around his waist to signal your willingness, Jim breathed a sigh of relief and leaned in to kiss you. “Be gentle with me, yeah?”

I know exactly what goes on when you're on, and

“Always, baby girl,” he cooed softly, one hand swiping aside your panties and pressing his leaking tip at your entrance, the other lightly sinking the blade into your chest just enough to feel the cool metal shock your skin.

How about I'm outside of your window?

Jim had worked out his positioning meticulously in the moments he’d hesitated — marking just beneath the light red rubs of your bra lines, where your cup would conceal his initials once you dressed.

Watching him keep the details covered

“Ready?” His excited intonation poured through his broad grin. As you nodded tentatively, he rocked his hips forward and slipped through your folds while swooping the curve of his J into your breast, leaving you hissing through gritted teeth. Years of self harm taught him how hard to push down on the razor to make light chicken scratches that delicately weep crimson, the small swipe across your skin gathering a soft bead of blood at the edge.

You're such a sucker for a sweet talker, yeah

The searing shock of the cut sent a bolt of pleasure down to your core, a fresh wave of arousal flooding around him as Jim buried his length inside you. His eyes widened, blown with lust and a sadistic streak you hadn’t seen on him before. Where his hips had rolled carefully into you at first, his pace now quickened as he growled under his breath, gazing lovingly at the wound and plowing into you as your blood gathered.

And will you tell all your friends you've got your gun to my head?

“Jesus fuck that was hot,” he moaned, casting the razorblade to your side as he anchored himself with both hands curled over your shoulders, pulling you down as he curled his hips and rammed his cock against your walls. His gaze couldn’t part from the slash, the single droplet now racing across your chest leaving a glistening red trail in its wake. “It looks beautiful, you look beautiful.”

This all was only wishful thinking, this all was only wishful thinking

“Li—like what you see, baby?” You stuttered through broken pants, his furious pace stealing your breath from your lungs. His satisfied smirk widened, pounding into you ruthlessly in response, soft hums leaving his lips with every thrust.

The only thing I regret is that I never let you hold me back

“Oh yeah I do,” he mused, leaning down to lick a clean stripe over the wound, sweeping the gathering crimson beads onto his tongue and groaning gratuitously as the metallic tang shocked his tastebuds.

Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens

His eyes nearly popped from their sockets as he leaned back to take in the view before him — gazing down at his girlfriend, spread wide open beneath him, your breast bleeding ever so slightly — a wave of insatiable hunger for you washed over him.

A thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins

“I love you, I love you so fucking much,” Jim gushed, fixating on the wound so hard it was almost as if he was addressing the J carved neatly into your chest, bouncing with every snap of his hips. “You know that right?”

I will never ask if you don't ever tell me

“Kinda got that when you started carving your initials in my tits, Jim,” you joked, raking your nails down his back and raising your hips to meet his.

I know you well enough to know you'll never love me

“You... you just get me,” he trailed off as he hammered against your walls, his persistent aim tightening a burning coil deep in your belly. “You know me, you understand me like nobody else.”

Why can't I feel anything from anyone other than you?

“So hurry up and finish it before I cum, Mason,” you pleaded through breathy moans, your spine keening eagerly toward him with every thrust, an inch away from the hollow ache of the coil in your gut snapping. His own climax wouldn’t hold much longer, noticing his base frantically twitching between your folds.

And all of this was all your fault, and all of this

Jim obliged all too happily, reaching for the blade again and leaning down to press a jagged M into your other breast, concealing the shock of the slash with another sharp snap of his hips.

I stay wrecked and jealous for this

The heat from the fresh cut once again sent a jolt of arousal through you, this time an overwhelming tsunami that left you gasping as you came over him.

For this simple reason I just need to keep you in mind

“Fuck Jim, I’m… I’m—“

As something larger than life

As Jim reared his hips back, the room filled with sinful squelching, realising you’d squirted all over him as your fluids came gushing through your folds. A deep growl erupted in Jim’s chest and he quickly pulled out, pouring his release over your abdomen and crying out with every spurt over your pale skin.

I stay wrecked and jealous for this

Your chest heaved relentlessly through your aftershocks, panting as you gazed down at the new scrawl on your chest. Jim’s stare fixed on it just the same, waiting until he rode out his own orgasm before leaning down to latch his lips onto the crimson droplets from your second wound.

For this simple reason I just need to keep you in mind

Moaning greedily as the coppery taste filled his mouth, Jim smiled against your chest and planted a kiss over his last initial.

As something larger than life

As the music faded around you, Jim pulled up to capture your lips in a lingering, grateful, haunting kiss.

“Baby girl, that was…” he hummed into your mouth, cut off by the sounds of his mother’s voice shrieking in the hall.

“Do you two think I’m deaf or something?”

Bad Day

It was easy to tell when you walked into the lair that something wasn't right for instance the normally relaxed atmosphere was suddenly chaotic and the yelling coming from the dojo was more then less surprising or at least it was until you heard the angry voice of the genius turtle yelling right back

Donatello never yelled rarely did he raise his voice unless something was really wrong or Mikey had once again broken something in his lab

Before you could call out to let the turtles know you were there something - or someone hit the floor and Donnie was storming through the living area growling and muttering under his breath as he headed for the lab, caution told you not to follow if he was in that bad a mood to actually be raising his voice would he even want your company

That thought left your mind as you realized your feet were moving anyways the door was still open so stepping inside you saw the normally chaotic and messy room was completely clean and organized nothing out of place nothing sitting on the desk his collection of coffee mugs gone and every surface wiped clean, and right there in the center of it was Donatello pacing furiously looking angrier than you had ever seen him in all the time you had known the four Mutant Turtles

You now could see the problem and why he was so pissed off to begin with

After months of hearing Leonardo's threat to straighten up the lab due to his impulsive need for cleanliness your best guess was while Donnie was either sleeping or out checking the security system the leader of the group had recruited the other two brothers and possibly their friends and had cleaned the entire lab spotless. Everything was organized to Leo's liking and you had to admit the room looked good but you knew Donnie; you also knew everything even out of place was organized to him it didn't matter what it was the genius knew exactly where to find it when he needed it and from just glancing you could see he had been searching for something that he can now no longer find

Although you couldn't hear words it was very clear his anger was being expelled in harsh words and filthy names against his brothers small angry clicks and chirps in his secret language we're being vocalized, he wasn't making any sense yet you ignored all thoughts and reasoning that bothering him right then was a bad idea stepping towards him calling out his name in a sweet tone, barely the heat of your hand near his skin as you reached out then instantly you were against him in a tight grasp his breathing coming out as hisses has he muttered and cursed louder before you were in his arms pressed firmly against his chest as he kissed you hard and in a way you had yet to experience from him, his body shaking from the anger as he suddenly lifted your body placing you on the closest desk roughly his hands cupping both sides of your face and a good portion of your neck from the size difference so lost in the kiss it didn't even matter if you were in trouble or not

You two had been friends for the longest time ever since you had met the turtles and quite recently both of you had just started to explore the fact that even with denying it you had feelings for one another this wasn't something that had become a planned subject you would only kissed once but In the heat of the moment there was no way to say no or order him to stop not when you wanted it bad

Your clothes regrettably didn't stand a chance

His lips didn't leave yours as he shredded them from your body which he instantly started to touch and squeeze groaning softly at the feeling of soft skin under his palms roughly swiping one hand sending the organized pens and pencils in small containers, papers stacked neatly, folders and anything on the desk went flying to the floor with no care as he pushed the smaller body back undoing his pants with one hand as your tiny hands kept him in place pushing the suspenders off his shoulders his glasses were already off his face probably laying somewhere on the ground as you started to respond to his sudden actions

The biggest pet peeve you had and something that had made him fall for you was him keeping his mask on constantly even around bedtime but one finger hooked through the cloth and the mask was around his neck your hands coiling into it pulling him down on top of you, a growl like nothing you had ever heard before rumbled his chest as he entered you fast and with no warning every solid inch of his impressingly massive length not only filled but stretched you wide in one thrust both of you letting out a chorus of pleasured sounds

Your body was ready for him just from the rough beginning but there was still a gasped cry and the arching of your hips as he started to hammer into the wet heat that enveloped him groaning and grunting wildly as he took every bit of frustration out on the smaller form beneath him your lips were bruising from the intensity of his passion, your hips would likewise probably be discolored as well but this was new and so interesting you didn't have the clear thinking consciousness to tell him to stop nor did you give a flying fuck

The genius never lost his cool never showed frustration even when he was about to lose his mind, he never did anything like this but damn you were loving it!

His hands slipped down your body as his teeth bit into your lower lip feeling his touch over your chest pulling a needy groan from his throat as he squeezed both breasts wantonly then slipping down your belly until both legs were over his arms leaving you wide open and defenseless just as his hips started to gain more ferocity in thrusting his growling almost feral as he marked your skin repeatedly dark red developed under his mouth before he moved again to latch onto another spot of soft silken pale skin, a helpless cry ripped from your lungs echoing through the room and possibly outside due to the door was still standing wide open before his name was being chanted loudly almost like a plea for more

It was as if your voice almost snapped him out of his anger for a moment his hips faltered as you reached down finding his pants undone but still hanging on his hips grinning as your fingers found the straps of his suspenders winding them around your wrist and hand the moment he seem to almost stop but a firm tug shoved him in completely trembling wildly as he was forced inside until you were positive you could feel him all the way up to your stomach if it was even remotely possible screaming out happily the turtle's hips started to move once more going deeper than before as you guided him in what you desired

For a moment the thought of him flipping the desk with his wild movements entered your mind until his body was leaned over you one hand at your neck lightly squeezing growling out you were his as he throbbed inside that tight coil while the other found purchase on the top part of his desk holding it in place as he thrusted and pounded into the now soaked center of his mate leaving nowhere for her to go but take the full brunt of his needs

The burning knot that pulled in your stomach told not only you your body was reaching its limit but the tight coil that was pulsing around Donatello's still moving cock told him to let you have it, there was no movement from him that you saw but instantly your body was yanked further down the desk bottom half hanging off the edge as he shoved your legs higher onto his shoulders moaning wildly his hips pounded him deep keeping him seated in your womb grinning has your hands pulled him closer by tugging on his suspenders, the throb growing more painful by the second as both grew closer to the finish

He knew his body well and the moment he felt the heat boiling at his base he knew he wouldn't last much longer wanting to get every bit of pleasure he could he forced your legs open wide meeting your eyes as he growled out your name softly then raised as his hips started to move sloppy his thrusts uneven yet stronger than ever having never felt anything so good he was growing closer by the second

"C-Cumming... Fuck I'm cumming! Oh fuck- I gotta-" his hands quickly landed on the desk trying to pull himself up to pull out of the woman under him once he felt his cock throb and pulse just before he orgasmed almost pulling completely out; what he hadn't been expecting was the second he stood up straight your hands we're still tangled in his suspenders, the feeling of him pulling out of you just as your orgasm washed over your senses made you pull him forward again not knowing just how close he was having not believed his words

He underestimated your strength and before he could do anything the strong pull from you shoved him completely back in all the way up to the hilt as your legs hooked behind his shell, that one move sent him over into one of the most powerful orgasms he had ever felt his hands snapped to your hips shoving you down fully as he roared out his finish

The heat of his hot cum suddenly filled your insides before you were screaming out at the top of your lungs one hand moving to his chest plate trying to keep him from going too deep but it was too late he rode out his climax roughly spilling every ounce of his seed into your waiting womb your eyes rolling back as his grip tightened keeping your hips elevated as he made you his churring as if he was in heat

It felt like it took forever but finally the genius turtle's grasp on your hips eased leaving him panting and groaning before he fell back landing in his chair pulling you with him both of you breathing hard. Still in the cusp of your second orgasm that had crashed through you like a tsunami wave your eyes watering and your tongue hung out between your lips, shuttering and twitching against his chest completely flushed and still filled to the brink with his hot load and his hard length keeping it all in place

A soft relaxed chuckle left Donatello's lips as he clutched his chairs arms leaned back ever-so-slightly keeping your limp body safely against his as he finally looked down at you "Hey there love - what brings you down here"

Even with as tired as you were and how completely wiped your mind was in that very moment you still manage to smile shaking your head unsure why you had came down to visit anymore hoping that after a small breather and hopefully with his help maybe you could remember that and maybe your own name

@bloody-dark-shells03 @fyreball66 @lonelyheart-clubband got off work early and this has been bouncing around in my head for the last 2 weeks so couldn't help it I do apologize and I hope you all enjoy... 🤣😂💕

One Shot: Sea of Love

@callmethehunter, here’s the other part of your birthday present! 😁🙌🏽🙌🏽���🏽 I have fleshed out your excellent idea of Robert and Maggie alone on a yacht. Thank you as always for sharing these story ideas with me. They’re always fun to write, and I always get lost in the whole fantasy of the thing. This one is no exception. I hope you enjoy this NSFW story. ❤️❤️❤️

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It was a perfect day, Maggie thought to herself. It was her birthday, and her wish was to spend it with Robert, and him alone. He'd hired a yacht, and they'd been enjoying the feeling of being lost at sea, not having seen the shoreline in hours.

The Pacific was on its best behavior for them, as calm as a mighty ocean could possibly be. The sun found a regular rhythm of spots to beam, mirror-like, off the water, before the rolling waves marred the illusion.

The captain remained in the wheelhouse, so it really felt like Robert and Maggie were the last two people in the world. Sex on the deck was transcendent, thanks to the feel of their world consisting of the cloudless blue sky and the slow-rolling ocean, nothing more.

That was a few times earlier. Presently, Maggie had been watching Robert swim, bobbing in and out of the waves, without a care to the seemingly infinite possibilities of creatures big and small that he might encounter. His skin had become more bronzed by the hour, and each flash of his arms and legs breaking the surface was in fine contrast with the hue of the ocean. She was a little shielded from the sun, under her straw panama hat, but the heat of the day had made her skin go darker, too, around her white bikini.

Robert had been teaching Maggie how to swim in his pool, and amid the flirty contact and lessons that dissolved into lovemaking, both were pleased with her progress. But as much as she enjoyed propelling herself through the pool, she was not ready to trust herself in the boundless sea--or trust its bounty of marine life. Instead, when she wasn't fantasizing about Robert's strong body in his tiny striped Speedo, she had been reading Interview With the Vampire, lost in a world of angst-filled antebellum immortals.

While reading and contemplating Robert's athleticism, she'd become inspired and turned to songwriting. The lyrics were very much tied to images of an overflowing ocean of romance. She realized it was tied to the fun of the day, but also inspired by Robert's delightful crooning of Sea of Love, a song that ranked high on his list of childhood favorites. It was one that he often sung at home, and one he'd seranaded her with today during lunch, unable to resist singing about the sea while at sea.

While lost in thought, with her pen dragging on the paper, she saw out of the corner of her eye that Robert was ascending the ladder to join her on the deck again.

She placed her pen in the inside groove of the spine and gave him her full attention.

She saw his dripping hair first, followed by his broad shoulders and wiry arms in motion. When the full swell of his chest came into view, her body pulsed, knowing what else was coming. Robert had regained composure from his gently labored breathing. He continued to climb, and he smiled his smug smile when he realized Maggie was watching as his waterlogged bulge went on display. By the time she was ready to contemplate his thighs he had hauled himself fully onto the deck.

"I've never felt so much like a Bond girl in all my life," he joked as he pantomimed shyly covering himself up with a nearby towel.

"I'm convinced that every second of your life is a performance in some way, Robert, but it really is, hands-down, the best show in town."

"I'm glad that you approve." Robert beamed as he stooped over the lounge to kiss her.

"Robert! My writing!" She quickly removed the pen and closed her book so the beads of water departing from his body wouldn't blur her words.

“Keeping a journal of all our escapades? Might make a nice book someday, when we’re all in our seventies,” he mused.

“Writing a song, actually, incorrigible man.”

“Can I read it?” He reached for the notebook on the table, which rested next to a near-empty tequila bottle that eventually would be discarded in favor of its unopened companion next to it.

“No!” Maggie squealed and grabbed the book. “It’s going to be a surprise.”

“Well you know I’m extra curious now, darlin’...” He climbed on top of Maggie on all fours and reached for her notebook, but she tossed it on the deck behind her before he could grab it.

She smiled a satisfied smile and moved his wet hair behind his shoulders.“Still curious now?”

“Always. He lifted her hat and set it on the table, putting a tequila bottle on the brim so it wouldn’t blow away.

“Have the best birthday ever,” he said before kissing her. The rhythm of their lips and tongues joining matched the gently rolling tempo of the ocean.

"I'm already on there," she said, staring into the depths of his stormy blue eyes.

Maggie slid her hands down Robert’s sides, enjoying the feel of the heat on his skin, mixed with the slowly warming feel of the last remaining salty droplets on his body. She kept her hands on the prowl until they reached his Speedo, which she tugged off of his hips.

“The lady knows what she wants, and I like it!” He stood and removed the wet scrap of material.

“Don’t you feel much better now?” She took off her sunglasses and sat up so she could view his growing hardness in living color.

“A little, but I know you can make me feel even better…” He sidled up next to her and edged his cock into her field of vision.

“I think I know what you want…” She scooted to sit in the middle of the length of the chaise and motioned for Robert to meet her in her new location. She placed a hand on the top of his thigh and the other around his hardness before she took him in.

His delicate skin was still a little cool and tasted of the sea. He growled softly as he slowly warmed up with her teasing.

A gentle moan caught in Maggie's throat. She enjoyed the work, as she always did. Robert stooped a bit to slide his hand down her back and untie her bikini top. She paused to remove it from her body.

“Oh, Maggie girl…” Robert let loose with a rugged gasp. “Fuck…”

Robert stood, legs apart, hands on his hips, pelvis forward. It was a stance that Maggie had seen him assume many times onstage, and in this moment, its magnetic pull was exalted, probably because Robert's enjoyment was so damn incendiary. With very little movement, save his back locking rigidly in place and his slow, shallow breaths, Robert was a sex god in a very pleased body.

Maybe it was the never-ending supply of heated sun rays, or the thrill of so much passionate intimacy on display outdoors, or just the splendor of such a delicious birthday celebration, but Maggie had never felt more alive.

"Always so good..." Robert sighed before withdrawing from Maggie's mouth. "I don't want this to end, darlin', but I can't be that greedy on your special day. Lie down?"

Maggie swung her legs back onto the lounge.

Robert peeled away Maggie's bikini bottom and resumed his place on all fours over her. His long, tender kiss set the tempo of their latest tryst to slow-boiling.

It felt like hours of Robert's playful, roving tongue in Maggie's mouth, slithering down her neck, bathing and awakening her nipples, trailing down her abdomen, and making a home in the pool of sweet nectar in her sex. Robert diligently painted love onto her aching bud and every fraction of an inch of her soft folds. There was little force in the forearm that held Maggie’s hips in place. It wasn't needed. She wasn't going anywhere while Robert expressed his admiration in such an incomparably passionate way.

Maggie enjoyed Robert's rapid, ravenous movements when neither of them could wait for release, but in this moment, her climax was a blooming of energy, or an unfolding, like a spring flower revealing its beauty in spite of itself, while nature took the lead in a chain reaction older than time.

Maggie’s body radiated with transcendent energy. With her eyes closed, it felt like the heat and light of the sun were byproducts of her ecstasy.

"Robert, that…" The words never made it out of her mouth, because Robert's was on top of hers.

Robert covered the full length of Maggie's body with his. He swirled the head of his sex between Maggie's lips below, with as much reverence as a master painter committing a tentative, but passionate, brush stroke to a blank canvas of endless, beautiful possibilities.

When Robert glided inside with smooth, steady motion, the combination of pleasure and savage fullness made her back arch involuntarily.

Robert lowered himself to be closer. This round of lovemaking was unhurried and exquisite, with each thrust of Robert's being a gentle blast of bellows that flamed Maggie's pleasure higher in the smallest of increments. Their rhythm, like the sway of the boat on the ocean, was hypnotic. Robert's loving strokes were a tender lullaby that was soothing and the sweetest torture at the same time.

"Ay, Robert, you're so good to me… Maggie was thoroughly intoxicated by Robert’s ministrations, and the words tumbled from her mouth like she was talking in her sleep.

Robert chuckled. "I've only just begun, darlin'..."

Robert's thrusts, while still slow, become more deliberate. His thickness and length become dozens of satisfying birthday presents, and over time, each became more extravagant than the last.

Maggie clutched Robert and thrusted faster.

Robert tisked and grinned apologetically. "Not this time, sweet girl…" He gasped while he delivered the bad news; the sensations of pleasure were building in an undeniable manner for him, too, but he refused to rush.

Their primal slow dance continued. The sun persisted at full strength. The boat rocked with a bit more animation, and a cool ocean mist gave a little relief to their sun-warmed, lust-inflamed bodies.

A tear formed in the corner of one of Maggie's eyes. Their lovemaking was so beautiful, so romantic, so intimate, so overwhelming. "Yes, baby, come on," she sighed.

Both of them could sense climax on the horizon, as their steady simmer of sensations began to boil over into extreme need.

"I don't think I've ever felt this high from you…" Robert murmured as he lifted himself to thrust with more passion. "Fuck, I'm going to come, baby !" He groaned loudly with desperation.

"Me, too, love… Oh my God!" Maggie wailed as she gasped for air.

Their amorous greed and, at last, impatience, made the last few minutes the hard-driving healing they both craved. Robert's cock felt larger than life as their blistering tempo of fucking took over.

There had been no sound of seagulls as far out as they were on the ocean, but their cries filled the air nicely. When their clamor abruptly faded in the face of their synchronized orgasms, the ocean provided all the zen-like sounds they needed while the racing of their hearts abated.

Still inside of Maggie, Robert relaxed and cradled her face with his hands before kissing her with lazy, love-sedated energy.

“Feliz cumpleanos, bonita…”

“Of course your Spanish consists of the most charming phrases.” Maggie teased as she drew large circles on Robert’s back with her hands.

“Somebody’s got to do it for you, innit?” He kissed her nose. “And I hope there are many more with you.”

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary

The One Where They Got Married

Pairing/s: John Seed/Nadine Sinclaire

A/N: This was for f/o february but stuff happened, anyway, have this short wedding drabble that still has me feelin’ soft 

Marriage wasn't exactly what Nadine had been thinking about when they emerged from the bunker with the Seeds. When they started their new life in New Eden they were unsure about everything, unsure about their relationship with the youngest Seed brother.

In the seven years trapped underground John had barely left them alone, not that they truly wanted him too. They'd grown close, feelings that had been boiling over before the collapse spilling over as they fell into and over each other. Most of that time was spent learning about each other, exposing their pasts in detail and admitting their regrets and deepest secrets. The rest of it was filled with heated embraces and becoming acquainted with every curve and dip of the others body.

Marrying John wasn't a thought in their mind at the time. All they knew was that they didn't feel safe unless his arms were around them, didn't feel whole without his heart next to theirs. They could confidently say they loved him but they couldn't see what the future in New Eden would be like. Nothing would be the same; they definitely weren't the same. None of them were.

Rebuilding was a giant task, but the community worked mercilessly and supported one another day in and day out. Nadine was shocked to see the people they had previously fought in such a different light, as humans rather than peggies shooting at them and threatening their life. Apologies and forgiveness was shared over time, the past was the past at that point.

John didn't rebuild his ranch, instead he and Nadine had a generous sized cabin in Holland Valley- What was left of Holland Valley. The first night on a bedless floor with nothing but blankets and furs was anything but uncomfortable, it felt like a new beginning. With John's kiss burning their skin and hands grounding their body Nadine felt like they could stay with him in that cabin forever.

When John took Nadine to where Joseph's church used to stand tall and got down on one knee they didn't know what to do. He didn't have a ring, just his bleeding heart and promises to make every day of their life full of love and laughter. And that's all they could have ever wanted. So they took his hands in theirs, kissed him until their lips were swollen and repeated his favourite word like it was a prayer.

The sun shined and the birds sang the day James walked Nadine down a makeshift aisle beside the Henbane River. The grass was cool under their heel and the white dress hand sewn by Faith danced in the wind. John stood under an arch made of flowers, blue eyes watery as they bore into Nadine's with nothing but love and devotion.

They could see in his eyes this was everything he had ever wanted, maybe it was all they ever wanted too.

Joseph was the one to marry them, watching with pride and happiness as Nadine and John said their vows to one another. Jacob had made two silver rings, nothing flashy and obviously hand made but they did the job. When John slipped the ring onto Nadine's finger it hit them, the seven years in the bunker and everything before it up to that moment all came flooding to the surface.

Their breath was stolen staring at John illuminated by the sunlight, there was no one else but him in that moment. It felt like there had never been anyone but him. They barely said 'I do' when John kissed them, tenderly and soft yet fiercely and passionate. He was in just as much awe as they were and the cheers and congratulatory words fell upon deaf ears. Nothing mattered in that moment except the two of them, foreheads pressed against one another and hearts beating in sync.

Marriage hadn't been what Nadine was thinking about but, when Nadine woke up the next morning in their shared bed with their husband, who stroked their cheek so softly and kissed them in a way that made the world fall into place, they knew they wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

Bonus scene- The Machinations of the Son 8.5

So... those that have read my latest one shot will know that the end of it features a rather pissed off Togruta. I wanted to explore the fallout of her anger, as well as her emotions, however I couldn’t fit it in with the main one shots as they are exclusively from Anakin’s POV, and I doubt she’ll let him near him at the moment. 

To that end I decided to create a little bonus scene instead that sort of bridges the gap between the two chapters, as it will also help explain something that happens next time as well. 

Not only that but I thought it’d be another good opportunity to expand the Kaesoka aspect of the story for those fans. Either way I hope you like it. 

Normally, the sight of Ahsoka Tano within her apartment was one that calmed Kaeden Larte down. The Togruta former Jedi had an aura about her that radiated calm and coolness to those around her. Just by seeing her you felt as if everything would be alright. 

Well, at least Kaeden did. No doubt she was slightly biased towards Ahsoka and how she was viewed by those around her. 

So naturally, when the Togruta in question came storming out of the doorway that led down into the basement where two variations of her former Jedi Master currently were, it was clear that something was wrong with her. Not only that, but her expression was downright murderous. 

Kaeden watched as she strode through the assembled group of people, some of which called out to her in concern, but all were ignored. Instead, the Togruta woman moved swiftly and aggressively towards the hallway, before heavy thuds could be heard, signifying that she was storming off upstairs for some reason. 

Kaeden might not have been Force sensitive, but even she knew when someone was hurting, or at least angry with someone. She had spent enough time around the Togruta to know when she was angry. Whatever had happened down in the basement had upset Ahsoka tremendously if she stormed out like that. 

Without hesitation, Kaeden moved to follow. In her position as Ahsoka’s girlfriend, it fell to her to comfort her, not that Kaeden minded at all.

It didn’t take long for Kaeden to find where Ahsoka had come from. The sounds of aggravated and infuriated yells echoed from within their bedroom, a clear sign that something was wrong. Upon entry, Kaeden bore witness to a sight she had never seen before. 

Ahsoka was beyond angry, a look of pure rage on her face as she picked up and threw one of her pillows at the wall with all her might. The soft impact it had did little to satiate Ahsoka’s anger however, resulting in the Togruta picking the pillow up and throwing it three more times before letting out another roar of frustration, slamming one of her hands onto the bed itself. 

“Ahsoka? Are you alright?” Kaeden asked, already knowing the answer. The Togruta didn’t reply however instead storming off into the ensuite bathroom, grumbling under her breath. Kaeden was able to decipher a few of the words, but not much else. Something about ‘Anakin’ and ‘murder’.

Crossing the room herself, Kaeden barely managed to make it to the bathroom door before she heard the sound of glass shattering, along with a quiet yelp of pain. 

Instinct kicked in and Kaeden moved as fast as she could, pulling Ahsoka into her arms, even as the Togruta fell to her knees, whimpering softly, barely concealing her tears. Kaeden didn’t spare much of a glance towards the now broken mirror. All her focus was on ascertaining and repairing Ahsoka’s wounds, both physical and mental. 

Gently, Kaeden pried open Ahsoka’s balled up fist, and began to inspect for damage. Her knuckles were bright red, standing out even upon her orange skin, and several small cuts lined the surface of her skin from where she had punched the mirror in anger. Nothing was broken luckily, except maybe Ahsoka’s pride.

And the mirror.

Thankful that was the extent of the physical damage, Kaeden began to pull Ahsoka back to her feet, gently guiding her towards the bed, before laying down next to her on it, resting their foreheads together. 

Whether on purpose or not, Ahsoka let this happen. Perhaps she was too busy trying in vain to contain the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“It’s ok Ahsoka, your safe. You will always be safe.” Kaeden whispered to her softly, one hand grasping her uninjured hand tightly, the other resting against her side, pulling the Togruta into an embrace. Once again, Ahsoka let her. 

“He said he’d of murdered me! Me! His own Padawan! And he would have killed me without blinking! I hate him Kaeden! I hate him so much!” 

“What! He said that?” Kaeden replied as best she could, barely withholding her own anger at the situation. How dare he say such a thing! No one would touch a metaphorical hair on Ahsoka’s body if Kaeden had anything to say about it. 

“I asked him the question. His lack of response is all the evidence I’ll ever need.” Ahsoka replied, a soft sob escaping her in the process. Kaeden could tell she was tormented by what she had discovered. He usually bright blue eyes that were full of hope and joy, as well as an element of mischievousness were dull and broken, haunted, as if threatening to break loose like some sort of dam. 

“I’m so sorry Ahsoka. I know how much he meant to you, even after everything.”

The words offered little comfort, that Kaeden knew, but she really didn’t know what else to say. What could you say to someone who had just found out that the person they considered a father and brother in all but blood would have happily murdered them on the words of a tyrant?

Ahsoka said nothing in response, instead she closed both eyes, attempting to stop the tears that were now freely flowing down her cheeks. 

Despite already being close, Kaeden pulled the Togruta closer, hoping to offer as much comfort as possible. 

“He never cared. None of them did. In the end everyone either abandoned me, betrayed me or tried to kill me. Story of my life really. Perhaps I should have just disappeared to the unknown regions years ago, or been left on Shili to fade into obscurity.”

The despair and self loathing in Ahsoka’s tone hurt Kaeden. Did she really think that about herself?

“That’s not true Ahsoka. Rex cares about you, as does Maul in his own weird way. Kanan, Ezra, Hera, the twins, kriff even Chopper all care about you and would do anything to help you. Maybe the people of your past did push you aside, but you have a new family in all of us.” Kaeden whispered, nudging Ahsoka’s forehead with her own, causing the Togruta’s eyes to open. 

“And what about you? Do you care about me, or is all this just lies as well? Will you cast me aside the second something better for you comes along?” 

Kaeden knew that Ahsoka wasn’t being harsh towards her, even if the words could be taken that way. The Togruta was just in a very bad place.

“I do care for you Ahsoka, more than nearly anything. If I could have done I’d have taken you and Miara and run far away from the Empire after Raada. Unfortunately someone had to go and become a big badass rebel spymaster instead, so I didn’t get my chance. But that doesn’t change the fact that I would have done, and that I lo…”

Kaeden didn’t get the opportunity to finish her passionate reply, not as Ahsoka rolled forward and pushed Kaeden onto her back, lips coming to hers. 

Kaeden allowed Ahsoka to kiss her for a few moments before pulling away, smiling up at the Togruta above her, who had a rather predatory look upon her face, one that Kaeden had grown very familiar with in recent years. 

“I don’t think now's the best time for this Ahsoka.”

“Pffttt, spoilsport.” Was the reply Ahsoka gave, gently kissing Kaeden again before rolling off of her to lay back on her bed, now on her own back. 

As tempting as it was for Kaeden to stay with Ahsoka, she knew she was needed elsewhere. Besides, they would have plenty of time together after this bizarre situation was resolved. 

Shifting her limbs to push herself up, Kaeden spoke. 

“Are you going to be ok now?”

Ahsoka nodded her head slowly at first, before turning her face to look at her, a hesitant smile crossing her lips. 

“Yeah, I will be. I just need some time to think. Can you send Maul up to me please? I need to talk to him about something.”

“Sure. No problem Ahsoka. Anything for you.” Kaeden replied, leaning down to kiss her girlfriend one more time before rising from the bed and heading towards the door. 

As she entered the threshold, Kaeden glanced back at Ahsoka, a rush of anger boiling in her veins. 

She wasn’t angry at the Togruta, but rather the ones who had made her fall into this state. 

Grinding her teeth in suppressed rage, Kaeden turned around and began to walk towards the stairs, a clear goal in mind. 

First, she would speak to Maul.

Then, she was going to have a little word with with two specific individuals.

I could hear your heartbeat. Part 3.

I could hear your heartbeat.

I could hear your heartbeat. Part 2

She listened to the noise of the night city, peered into the distant bright lights of tall buildings of snow-white moonstone, reflected in the dark water of a deep river. Music of piano and violin played in the distance, rose high into the night sky.

Music.

The music awakened her that night, when she looked at her reflection in the mirror for the first time. She remembered sweet music that pierced her veins and blood, making her to breath and open her eyes. She remembered the frigid horror, when she walked slowly on the cold wooden floorboards, peering into her own reflection in the high floor mirror made of white opal.

She did not recognize herself. Her hair turned into pure dark gold and amber, her eyes were a reflection of a violent sea storm, a silvery-azure frost. But when her fingers reached for her pointed ears, she was overcome by silent despair and scream. She did not allow herself to scream, she could not allow the monsters living in these walls to hear and see her fear. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, tearing her flesh with fingernails, tearing the skin into blood.

Monster. She was turned into a terrible beast.

She abruptly sucked in the cold night air, and slowly exhaled, watching the translucent light curtains swaying, swirling over the massive desk of an expensive ebony; watching as shadows and light shimmered in crystal glasses of clear, icy water.

A luxury she couldn’t even imagine. The precious chandeliers hanging from the ceiling were woven from the smallest pieces of diamonds. White walls were decorated with exquisite floral ornaments - amazing and charming lace plexuses of stucco on the ceiling, depicting the vines of roses, cyclamen and aconite. 

Her huge and wide bed with snow-white silk sheets that were whiter than the snow and lighter than the porous clouds, the air of the sea foam, and when she touched the light fabric, it seemed to her that a fleur was slipping between her fingers.

But she looked at her reflection, and did not see herself in it. She felt within herself the presence of a different creature, she wanted to pull this beast out of herself, turning her into a monster. 

She looked at her hair, which had become the pure amber, looked into her eyes, which had acquired a shade of smoky quartz and a fierce storm. Her full lips were painted in a rich rowan hue, her skin became light as expensive porcelain. Her features became sharper, more beautiful. She peered at the reflection of a beautiful woman. But this beauty was cold, leathal and deadly. 

Such beauty could only belong to an evil creature.

Such beauty tempted and reduced to the edge of madness.

Her eyes carefully studied the features of her own face, on which milky moonlight descended — sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, full lips, long eyelashes of dark gold framing dark azure eyes, and then the woman turned her gaze to pointed ears. 

Nesta froze, not recognizing in the reflection her own face. The midnight lace shadows looming on the snow-white skin of her face with fancy arabesques, and peering into the blackness and coldness of her own eyes. She saw the depths of blackness in which she sank, in which she gasped. The blackness, which drew her on the very bottom of the abyss.

To the very edge of the abyss. To the very beginning of life.

The darkness longed for her, the darkness that accepted her in passionate embrace.

At the beginning of all existence, and on the very edge of existence, there was only darkness full of fury and fire.

Her hand slowly rose to the mirror, touched the cold surface that instantly burned her fingertips, when she touched the pointed tips of ears in the reflection. 

“No ...,” she said softly, peering into the reflection of the eyes, in which the darkness dwelt now. 

Her heart ached, her muscles burned with boiling iron, when she ran towards the heavy oak doors, and when her fingers closed around the long golden handles, she opened the doors with inhuman strength.

There was emptiness in her mind, and fear filled her with power. The double doors with a heavy crash swung open under the strenght of her hands, and a loud echo rang through dark and empty corridors lit by the dim light of burning lamps.

Run. She must run away. Get out of here. Away from the monsters that peer at her features from the darkness, inky shadows that extended her clawed paws as to the most desired prey. 

Shadows laughed and smiled, frightening and shapeless creatures, grinning in hollow blackness. The monsters that devoured her in the mist; the monsters, which devoured and consumed her utterly.

Her legs were so weak.

Nesta felt as if she was in a body of stranger. She could not keep her balance, when her bare feet stepped onto the cold marble slabs of a long staircase with wide steps. 

Her legs gave way, and she collapsed down, smashing her knees into the blood, tearing the light fabric of a translucent nightgown. The fabric was instantly soaked with blood, and a heavy metallic scent hit the nostrils.

Nesta froze, listening to the sounds. 

She heard the wind that slid across the golden frames of the windows and the roar of rattling glass under the weight of the raging night wind; heard the splashing of waves of a restless dark river, covering an ancient stone bridge; she heard music through the city. She heard the children's laughter and the whisper of lovers, heard the ringing of gold coins and the touch of a cold ruby ??necklace on the neck of a young woman, heard a hot kiss in the dark and a cold dagger, burned with hot blood.

She raised her eyes to the wide-open balcony doors. The cool night wind caught her long golden curls, and the silver light of the full moon illuminated her astonished and tired face. The sky was littered with myriads of constellations, like a scattering of diamonds and dawn dew, littered the night. The Northern Lights colored the sky with an emerald flame. Her full lips opened, when she looked intently at the dark night sky, at the distant landscapes of the high black mountains. A snow-white ancient city stretched before her eyes.

Beautiful. That was so beautiful. 

She blinked as if she had heard a stranger's voice in her mind.

And then she lowered her gaze to the shadow below. 

The man’s face was hidden in the shadows, and his broad black wings were darker than the night that surrounded their figures. He stood still, as if afraid to scare her away with an extra movement, as if he could hurt her with a word.

Nesta knew him. 

She knew this scent of mint, grass and sun, the scent of rain and wet stone, coniferous forest. The fragrance of jasmine petals.

“Nesta ...,” said the man, slowly and carefully stepping out from the shadows, reaching out his hand to her, as if he were a drowned man, tormented by thirst in search of a sip of ice-cold water. 

And then she saw his face, illuminated by the flowing light of a lavender full moon. She knew that face. She knew this man. She knew him. She knew him, and her blood sang and boiled. It's him. It's him. 

Only hold out your hand and you would be able to touch him.

And her fingers were full of agony. That was such an unbearable pain. She wanted him. She wanted to be closer to him. To feel his warmth, to hear his voice, to hear his steady heartbeat, to know that he is breathing only for her.

Mine. He is only mine.

She could imagine his hands on her naked body, his hot breath on her skin, his gaze burning through her own eyes.

“It seems that she has woken up finally,” said a seductive female voice behind her.

And she shuddered, and the man standing in front of her instantly stopped, turning his hot dark gaze toward another woman. Her head was buzzing, her temples were burning and splitting, and pointed, hot needles were dug into her skin. 

She could barely breathe, could hardly be aware of what was happening, looking at his face, peering into his beautiful features, while his gaze was turned to another woman. 

Her fingertips began to tremble, her body pierced with a painful spasm, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, digging her fingers into her forearms.

He kept his eyes on the woman behind her, and Nesta lowered her own eyes, feeling that she was beginning to suffocate from inner fear and absorbing despair. Despair so deep and deadly that the heart was ready to break from the pain. She did not hear the words of others, other sounds of life were dissolved for her in this pitch blackness, when she looked at the drops of blood on the snow-white marble of the slabs; when she raised her trembling palms to her throat, feeling the iron rods squeeze her throat; when she raised her palms to her ears, hoping to hide from the noise buzzing in her temples.

Mine. He is only mine.

His eyes were turned to another woman. And awareness of the truth destroyed her. 

She knew him. 

He was the beginning of her existence, and the end of her existence. His shape and his image have been branded in her heart since the beginning of life. 

And she knew that she was a newborn in this new, unknown and frightening world, full of sounds and feelings, scents. She heard everything - the fast and confident steps of the townspeople on the cobbled pavement; amber honey flowing in crystal bowls; the sound of crystals gleaming in the moonlight that adorn rich chandeliers; the sound of the heart beating in his chest. 

She could smell everything — the scent of lavender and ginger, fresh pastries; the aroma of wet stone, rose and wet earth; the scent of rain and wind; the smell of grass and sun.

Her eyelashes faltered as she turned her gaze on him, listening to the even beat of his heart. The calm beat of his heart echoed her quickened pulse and ragged, hoarse breathing. Fear gripped her, and she could not move, when the man and the woman began to talk.

She did not hear the words, did not understand their meaning. She tried to curb the anger that was bubbling inside her, wanting to burn down the entire universe. “Nesta,” he said, and she trembled, clutching herself more tightly, trying to calm the trembling in her body. His voice, warm as sunshine; gentle as the spring wind, slipping between her fingers; affectionate, as the iris petals on her face. And then she remembered.

She remembered the chilling horror of cold loneliness, when the darkness flowed into her veins with red-hot and liquid fire; when darkness, which is darker than darkness and the very moonless night, dug into it with steel claws, merging with its blood, merging with its soul and flesh. She saw the monstrous images of the creatures of darkness, and their claws pierced her white flesh - with bliss the black ghosts of darkness devoured her, devoured her, savored bones and revel in the crimson hot blood, and then mourned and praised.

In that pristine darkness, she lost herself, and she found herself as if she woke up from a long and endless sleep. Then, struggling with the darkness that was eager to devour her, she was not alone.

She was not alone. 

Something kept her on the verge of life and death. Something was calling to her, and she was drawn to the power that supported her. When her bare feet touched the crystal smooth surface of the black waters of the cauldron, burning pain pierced her body. Scream stuck in her throat. It seemed to her that the sharp fangs of black snakes stick into her feet, and the deadly mixture poison her blood.

She fought, fiercely wanted her revenge, and someone in that all-consuming blackness held out her a hand. This hand was strong, warm, full of life and desire, filled with the same rage and anger, the same raging hatred that her soul was full of. And she grabbed the outstretched hand. And in that blackness she was not alone. As if someone was gently lulling her, like black wings with a saving cocoon of darkness, she sheltered her from the ancient and cold darkness, eager to devour her.

She was not alone.

She raised her dark eyes to the man, and the pain stuck in her chest, something invisible pulled her to him. From an unbearable desire to touch him, fingers pierced a sharp pain, as if she were toching the ruby flame of a lonely burning candle with her fingertips.

She opened her lips, peering into an unfamiliar and familiar face at the same time. She peered at his hard, but beautiful features — a strong-willed chin and sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, dark inky eyebrows, and a curved pale scar that cut through one of the silky eyebrows. 

Then her eyes looked into the dark amber of his own eyes. The mighty black wings behind his back opened, hiding behind the absolute darkness the light of the full moon.

The man took a step, and she threw herself up. Her eyes sparkled with rage and anger, when she hissed with venom like a viper:

"Do not you dare to approach me".

Carefully, like a wild beast, driven into a trap, she rose from her broken bloodied knees. The salty taste of her own blood burned the tip of her tongue, but she did not take her eyes off his petrified face. His whole body stiffened, and his lips turned pale, as if he was afraid to move, too stunned by that incredible cruelty and malice directed at him.

“Don't you dare to come closer,” she whispered in a warning tone, and a golden strand of hair fell on her face.

“Calm down, child,” the woman behind her said in a soft voice.

“We won't hurt you. You're safe in this house. You are under our protection, nothing threatens you here”.

Lying. Her words were imbued with lies.

Nesta turned her full anger to the woman, who was trying to reach out her hands to her. She narrowed her eyes dangerously.

“Your people have already hurted me. You have already caused enough pain and suffering”.

She remembered the night, when the soldiers broke into her house. She remembered how the servants were slaughtered like pigs before her eyes. She remembered, how she had suggested that they should not return home, when a fierce winter storm had covered the village. She cut off their lives with this decision. She destroyed Elain's happiness at the moment, when she allowed these creatures to come to her house.

She remembered her horror, when a carpet of white snow covered the purple stripes of human' blood. She remembered the creature, bending over the body of a little boy torn to pieces, eating its remains with greed. The eyes of the severed head darkened and glazed, and on the frozen face, she saw dirty lines of black blood. Nesta remembered the pain of her palms smashed into the blood, and how cold it pierced her limbs, when men's hands dragging her through the bloody snow. She did not cry, she did not scream. She watched in horror as her white nightgown soaked in the child’s blood.

It was because of her. Because of her. That was her fault.

Nesta lowered her eyes, clenching her hands into fists.

"The trouble came to my house as soon as I allowed my sister to step on the threshold together with the foreigners".

She saw, how the soldiers set fire to the neighboring houses, with such an intoxication and thirst black wolves stabbed their fanged mouths into the  men and women, feasting, tearing children's bodies to pieces.

She wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She looked at her bloody hands. She watched the nightgown soak in hot blood, and how this blood envelops her skin, how this blood penetrates under her skin.

“Do not you dare to approach me,” she said menacingly, turning around and covering with her own body the shape of a man standing on the lower steps of a wide staircase.

“You dare to approach, and I will tear off your head,” Nesta whispered ominously, taking a step towards the frozen woman, as if she could see something in the dark pool of her cold silver eyes. 

Her eyes widened and her lips parted, a slight confusion and silent fear twisted her features as Nesta rose another step higher. 

And blood. 

Her own blood flowed down the snow-white marble steps, and a thin stream of dark purple, scarlet hawthorn and amethyst juice of wolf berries fell in large drops on white opal steps.

Nesta saw how a barely perceptible sigh, filled with fear, came from the full lips of a woman. 

The essence hidden in the depths of her steel eyes. When she was in the depths of blackness, she did not feel anything other than power and the desire to crush, create, and dominate. She was surrounded by mighty waves of power, as if in the middle of the ocean in the hour of a raging storm. 

And this power poured into her, Nesta drowned in the pristine blackness of power. Black ephemeral ghosts showed their ugly and monstrous images. Clawed animal paws stuck into the snow-white marble of the staircase, golden lace railings swept over, shadows flowed black blood from the crystals adorning the chandelier of the spacious hall. 

Obsidian snakes swept her forearms, elbows and snow-white hands in thick and fetid rings. Horned snakes raised their hissing heads, opening their mouths and  ruby eyes - they were eager to show the world their immense cruelty and anger; eager to drown the world in the poison of hatred.

The woman standing before her turned pale, as if she could see monstrous shadows above her, as she could see monstrous images rising behind her.

“You dare approach my sister, and I will not leave even the dust from what you call home.”

Her eyes darkened, her hair fell like a golden waterfall over her thin shoulders. Nesta looked at the woman as at her most hated enemy. She looked at her just as she looked at the image of blackness, which was trying to escape from her hands, and then she barely audibly whispered, leaning her head on her shoulder, like a predator:

“Where is my sister?”

The day gave way to night, the lavender twilight was replaced by the saffron dawn. And her days were filled with Elain's crying. Her moan, her cry — every bitter and mournful moan that came down from her lips, gave way to a sharp pain in her heart, as if someone were deeply sticking a burning blade between the shoulder blades. 

She did not eat, she did not speak. Hope died in her voice, and Nesta could hear despair and grief.

Her fault. 

Her fault. That was her fault.

Sometimes, Nesta thought that her sister was eager for death. And the ghosts hiding in the corners of the spacious and rich apartments, reached out her slimy bony hands, as if offering to take the life. Sometimes, Elain looked at her with a pleading look, as if asking her to take away a new life from her, which she did not want, and when her younger sister held out her hands to her, Nesta with disgust and immense fear retreated backwards. 

She was afraid that the shadows that entwined her limbs would take from her the last thing she cherished in this cursed world.

They brought food. They brought clothes - expensive silks, velvet, the finest satin.

“Get out,” she told the women, who brought silver trays with ripe fruits.

“I said get out!” 

She screamed in anger, throwing up her hands, and high porcelain vases split into pieces. One of the women stood up to silently pick up the spiky splinters, and with trembling hands she reached for the uneven and twisted parts of the broken porcelain.

Nesta took a deep breath, taking one step forward, and at the same the young woman lifted her frightened and hunted eyes to her. Nesta was silent for a long time, watching the blush leave her cheeks, and the deadly paleness colored her beautiful features.

“I told you to get out of here,” she said softly.

Fear, disgust and horror illuminated the features of a woman's face, and she quickly hurried to leave their apartment. How many times has she seen these emotions in the features of other people? The sharpness of a gaze filled with hatred and malice. Her hands were shaking.

She does not care. Let them fear, let them despise. She didn't care.

Then her sister returned. She returned to the place that she considered as a home, while her home was mired in ashes and blood. The man, whom she considered as her husband proudly and imperiously stood beside her, giving her cold contempt. 

Nesta knew this feeling; she could feel his anger in the air, his disgust. He hated her, thirsting for her disappearance. This High Lord would be unspeakably happy if she could disappear into the fire along with that wooden house with other mortals. For him, she was a heavy burden, and he had to endure her only because of endless love for her younger sister.

She didn't care.

Her own sister offered her to tell the story about how the ancient King, thirsting to enslave the human race, had outraged her and Elain. Nesta looked into the emptiness, a black gaping mouth before her. 

They all wanted to know, what happened there, in the abysses of the deepest darkness - there was death, emptiness, and insensitivity. Inside the cauldron she saw power, she felt agony as her body pierced thousands of blades. Rebirth and immortality were filled with pain. 

Sometimes she remembered that pain. She knew the true pain, when blackness flowed into her body. She swallowed life itself. She was afraid to breathe, for by breathing she could take the life of another being, another creature.

What did her sister want to hear?

“You don't know anything about what happened to me. None of you,” she whispered, looking at the silky white tablecloth and cutlery of pure gold and platinum, ruby glasses and silver plates.

What can these soulless beings know about what happened to her in the black depth, when her cry sank in the dark waters of silence and oblivion? 

She screamed, but no one heard her. She prayed, afraid to remain in that cold darkness all alone. But, instead of loneliness came a liquid fire that scorched her skin and crushed her bones.

Immortality is power and flame.

None of them did not understand her immense and boundless fear of the memories of that night. Images of darkness came to her when the night was covering the snow-white city. Ghosts whispered and sang songs of death. In her nightmares, she saw a white carpet of snow stained with blood. She saw burnt houses, heard a baby cry. She saw the clawed paws of the monsters, reaching out their fanged mouths toward her, when she was lowered into the black and cold waters.

She fixed her gaze on the man, who did not take his dark brown eyes from her. The shade of dark lime honey and fiery sunset, when the scorching disc of the sun dissolves in the gathering lilac twilight.

Cassian.

She looked into his eyes. And the longing filled her heart. Why did he not understand? Why none of them understood?

Why?

The agate claws of monstrous images covered her shoulders, when she felt the glances in the dining room. 

Short dark strands of hair fell on the handsome pale face of shadow-singer, he lowered his eyes, peering into the floral ornaments adorning his tea cup. However, Nesta could feel on herself the evil, bestial eyes of invisible shadows that swept his straight back and shoulders, that whispered in his ear and raised their heads in her direction. Shadows looked at her with the eyes of true predators. She felt their enmity and awe, fear. A woman with fair amber hair looked at her, eyes narrowed. Her red lips were tightly pressed, but she steadfastly endured her gaze. Amren’s thin lips curved into a playful smile as she brought a crystal glass of red wine to her lips, enjoying the scent of distrust and betrayal soaring in the air. For her, it was nothing more than the childish game.

Feyre proudly lifted her chin, her eyes shone with inner fire, when a strong male hand touched her own hand. Her husband and her mate.  The eyes of the High Lord promised her terrible agony if she allowed herself another word. The beautiful eyes of dark violet, which in the very depths acquired a tint of sapphire and azure of heaven.

Cassian, he was the last one and in his eyes she could not find her salvation. He supported those, who were against her, and if he had his thoughts, he did not want to speak them out loud. Nesta clenched her hands into a fist. 

It was a strange feeling. She hardly knew him, but at that moment she felt the sharp pain of betrayal.

She felt he betrayed her. 

He was a stranger, and, nevertheless, she felt his gaze on her back, when she closed the glass doors behind her. She could feel, how he rebelly bowed his head to shoulder, when Mor offered to drink them all.

Why did she want him to protect her at that moment? Why was she so eager for him to intercede for her? Why did she want his support at that moment?

Hate is born out of affection and love. She trusted her father, believed him, believed even when her mother’s wet and heated palm cooled in her outstretched hands. She believed him even when her mother’s wooden coffin was lowered into the cold and frozen ground. She did not hear her sister’s bitter cry, she only thought that her mother’s flesh would be eaten by worms, and her beauty would fade away. She believed her father even when he took another bottle of cold whiskey from the cellar, and she folded her mother's silk dresses into heavy suitcases. She sold all the jeweleries so that they could pay off the servants working in their house. She sold a sapphire necklace that her mother loved so much so that they could get to that dirty village, in an old house.

Her father, she hated him so fiercely. She wanted to die, wanted to enjoy his despair and pain. She wanted him to feel the same pain that she felt after his betrayal. 

He did nothing to save her mother. Fear and cowardice seized his heart. Nothing left of her father. She felt the warmth of the life out of his body, when she covered his heavy eyelids with her fingertips. He will never look at her again, and will never say words of love again.

It was not fair.

He had no right to say that he loved her, and then leave her forever. He left. He left her with pain and contempt for herself. Left her with a feeling of self-loathing. Nesta wanted to disappear. She dreamed of destruction and emptiness, and the ghosts that embraced her in the night, whispered to her about their dreams - how easily they could destroy this beautiful snow-white city; they told, how red would be the scarlet blood on the golden hair of a woman, whom Cassian gave his smile and laughter and how sweet her life will taste on her lips.

She heard their laughter, sometimes she heard the serenity of their conversations. And she wanted to reach out and to open the door. She wanted to be a part of the trusting warmth that was in the air. 

But only her fingers touched the cold gold of the doorknob, as she pulled away, as if it burning her fingers.

She was a stranger here. And it was not her world. It was the world of her sister. She was accepted in this house, she was loved in this house. Their conversations stopped each time she went down to the dining hall. There was an unpleasant and ominous silence in the rooms. She was silent because she didn’t know what she could talk to them about. She felt how they look at each other, and then they began a false conversation, talking about the most insignificant things, as if fearing her presence.

And she left because she could not tolerate the discomfort that caused them. Her hands were shaking as she touched the cutlery. 

She could not be among them. Could not feel joy and happiness, because her world was destroyed. 

She could not see their faces full of regret. It seemed to her that she was looking into the same black abyss that had swallowed her.

She had to leave. 

She did not want to be part of their world, because she wanted the whole world to burn in the fire with her. 

She screamed and sobbed behind her frozen walls and behind the walls she cried until she felt blood in her own throat.

One day, she heard the music of the night city, and felt nothing, but emptiness. The dark and slimy claws of the creatures that visited her at night, crawled to her bed, raised their ugly faces to her face, and whispered about the destruction and the death, and Nesta felt nothing.

And her own indifference to their desire for destruction scared her. A sip of alcohol helped to get rid of the visions that they showed her at night, and the pleasure plunged her into an eternal oblivion, and she did not see the black images that were marching behind her, hiding in her shadow. But she knew that they always followed her, never leaving. Her silent solitude became her stronghold.

She did not eat, the food has lost its taste. Pages of books turned to dust, and the stories that once carried away to the new world lost their meaning. She thought she was doing the right thing, when she looked at a black hound with deep red eyes, watching her from the shadows.

Such creatures as she should not exist in this world.

Zenith

- Do you know about Zenith? No? I mean you own a computer so you must. I hear the whole planet is covered in one large city.

- Zenith lives up to its name, as it is regarded to be the home to the height technological development in the Magic Universe. It houses the more universities, research institutes and engineering testing fields on its tiny surface than Magics and Earth combined.

- Though it is true that the planetoid is covered with a seemingly uniform cityscape, there are patches of untended ground peeking through, mainly the polar seas.  Antitheva and Bitheva may only classify as large lakes elsewhere, but they are perfectly fit for a small planet of Zenith’s size. They even help populations of merfolk at some point in time.

- The overwhelming amount of construction covering the planet’s surface has long become its vice. With no reflective surfaces left and with machinery forced to operate day and night to fuel the latest technological advancements, the whole planet has become a singular heat trap. The seas were boiling and the air was unbreathably hot. What got research going however was the failing performance of their heavy duty machinery, screws sweating and bending out of shape, lasers blinking tired and unfocused. They devised a plan to cool down the surface of the planet by releasing agents to shield them from the thermal effects of solar rays, and achieved the impossible. Zenith’s climate has since then settled on a comfortable average of 250 K.

- The seas froze over and the merpeople disappeared - or maybe they did already during the boiling phase, out of their luck living off already dead fish. Urban development was given final approval and the last patches of earth disappeared from sight, buried under the striving for more.

- Despite its  aforementioned properties, Zenith is no monolith and it would be amiss to describe it as such. Zeniths countries and cultures are diverse, only connected by their burning need for advancement and their fight against the cold. They have a spectrum of governance forms in the different countries ranging from democracy, constitutional monarchy to representative republic and in some cases even direct democracy of people. 

- As cities cover all of the planet, it is difficult to determine where individual settlements in a country begin and end. Country borders are the only demarcations, each government shielding itself with force fields, trenches or physical walls from imagined spies and malevolence.

- Techna’s home of Haikar is in a country that still tries to honour the memory of the separate settlements that have melded together. So Haikar is not a separate town as much as it is just a borough with its own town governance, and is considered to be the capital of Transjordan.

- Other Zenith country names with capitals where applicable: Tribilisi (Kandu), Gorgan, Nuzul (Xihat), Tbaku, Navyol, Urzghar

- Most of these countries don’t get along with each other too well. As is understandable, seeing as they are very culturally diverse. Each wants to be the best though and their most bitterly fought battles are usually over patent rights and the tenure of well-respected scientists. As banal as these reasons seem, as brutal are their methods of mutual sabotage to keep the leading edge. 

- Transjordan unfortunately is quite small and has many neighbours, so their paranoia and battle readiness is markedly large even on planet. Growing up, Techna went through disaster and terror awareness training regularly, to the point where they could probably recite what to do in case you found a car bomb better than they could explain a simple recipe.

- Oh and are recipes important! As clean edged people think the inhabitants of Transjordan are, there is nothing minimalist about their food choices. They love combining spices and textures and always serve feasts with generosity rivalling Eraklyon’s. Deserts usually have some sort of fruits, nuts AND some preserve in them, the combinations endless.

- While it is true that for the most part, cultures on Zenith value a simple approach to things. If it can be done in a few words, why waste a sentence on it? Bureaucracy is usually a two-click-formula affair, their whole lives are condensed on a sigle digital display ID, shopping comes to you at home. Hell even marriages are just an affair of simple form signing. 

- But food is where they really go full ham. It is not seen as frivolous to waste 10 eggs on a cake, because what you are doing creating nutrition and enjoyment. It is simply reasonable and efficient to go to the max when you do that and create an absolute delicacy you can gorge yourself on in one slice or less.

- So if they are so into feasting and enjoying things with purpose, what gives Zenithians such a bad name? Well, it is just that. People of Transjordan for example, like to enjoy things with purpose. They don’t really care much for music or theatre, they are just activities to air your brain out. They will import off-world made products, but there isn’t a lot of room for cultural arts on Zenith because they channel their passion elsewhere.

- Yes you heard right, Zenithinas have passion galore. They just, in the Universe's most efficient move, channel that passion into the work they already do. The majority of scientific discoveries have been made because somebody cared enough to look deep into a topic and push further, because previous answers were unsatisfactory. Children are coached to find something that inspires this level of devotion in them and have extensive education and support networks to get them there.

- On the topic of children: most of them aren’t the genetic descendants of their parents, rather a random selection from the common gene pool. The public gene pool is a hotly debated topic, but a long established structure of procreation that only the very wealthy have the option to contest. (There is a way to gain approval to sire an own baby from just the genes of two people, but it is extremely costly.) 

  In some research some time ago it was determined that for the optimal survival of people on the planet, genetic relation to the parents raising the child was not only suboptimal, but actively detrimental to overall population survival. In this “more civilised” approach, parents apply for a baby who is conceived and birthed in bioreactors. This way no people who can conceive are put through undue stress and the public gene pool babies also carry less hereditary health conditions. It is supposedly a win-win situation, yet it leaves a sour taste in most people’s mouth. No wonder less and less Zenithians plan families if that is the process they have to do it by.

- As straightforward as they are, Zenithians often struggle when communicating with people from other planets and not only because of arising cultural differences. Sure any Zenithian would blush and pale when forced into a situation dealing with overly expressive Solarians, but in any other regular case, the Universal Translation Spell is not on their side either. Jordan is a very logical and to the point language and the floralitiy of other languages is impossible to be transferred to it. The UTS instead produces blocky, difficult to parse translations that often leave Techna confused to the intentions of others.

- It is of course evident that the main industry of the planet is electronics production and R&D. Companies on Zenith produce all manners of gadgets, but they are best in creating refrigeration technology (ironic, right?), astronomic instruments, self-propulsion transportation (vehicles) and medical diagnostic tools and applications. The associated application programming industry is also booming with server houses the size of smaller cities. It is no surprise that Zenith’s electricity consumption is through the roof with such a vital sector to support.

- Before their trade for electricity with Solaria, Zenithian people used static electricity discharges to harvest energy. Their planet being covered with one gigantic city didn’t leave much space for utilising the natural resources of their planet. All the mineral ore having been exhausted, no major flowing waters left and stranded with miserable and cold weather the options for energy sources were limited. What they had however was tall buildings and thunderstorms, so they used lightning harvesters for ages. 

- With the storm and snow clouds obscuring the sky most days, Zenith is quite dark. The cities illuminate themselves, kind of like year round festive ornamentation. 

- Spirituality is an interesting topic on planet that everyone you ask will have a different answer for. Major parts of Tribilisi and Urzghar for example believe in machine assisted immortality. They see machines as superior to biological matter and work towards the unfallability and omniscience of artificial intelligence in which part of their conscience will be able to rest after death. The predominant belief in Transjordan that Techna grew up with is that after death, there is nothing. Based on the theory of energy conservation, what one doesn’t use and convert into heat will be redistributed into the rest of the world. It is selfish to think one could hold on to any energy after death.

- Most people also don’t care for magic. Sure some magic users crop up among them here and there, but they most likely remain untrained. This is why Techna chose a school off planet to pursue their passion and why they weren’t claimed as a Guardian fairy of Zenith after they graduated. (Since this position doesn’t exist.)

- Almost all things on the planet are solved non-magically accordingly. Their transport systems are unparalleled with some regions using small-distance whole structure replication, aka honest to god matter teleportation. The frozen over seas are also fully utilised with air cushion containerships cruising the flat expanse. Along a certain longitude Zenith also sports a unique feature: the longitudinal crust train. A four meter wide segment of the planet, as if cut out of the surrounding cityscape, moves on straight rails around the whole circumference of the planet. It is the fastest mode of civilian transport available.

- They need all the good transportation and radio transmission they can get - by the way, the Universe Wide Web is also a Zenithian invention, who would have thought - as with their living space limited, Zenithian countries have spilled over onto nearby moons, essentially colonising and terraforming those.

- So, you see, Zenith and either of its countries aren’t by far as boring as one might think on the first glance and most of them certainly don’t shy back from showing emotion.

This is... going to be a bit long. sorry, mobile users. The ocs are listed by team!

SPLATOON 1 TEAMS

ROKA/OLIVIA/AGENT 3. A bit of a lovable goof, with caring too much for her little inkling body. Fierce in battle. Yes, she gets the scar in the OE arc, but the OE arc goes a bit differently in the story due to... reasons? yeah, reasons. She goes missing for a full year and that’s when Akim takes up the Agent 4 handle.

MINT TEA/PAIVA. A bit of a gossip, but also a wall of support. Wants to cheer everybody up, but is hiding issues of her own. Close friends with Roka. A possible ship with roka, as well. She’s the second leader of the team, and the only one in contact with Roka, right up until her disappearance. Oops. Literally the only one with a picture like this.

GLASSES/HENRIETTA. I did not know that the splatoon manga glasses was known as glasses, and this is awkward. and also full moon is a thing and AGH. anyway glasses. Seems to be a sarcastic little piece of shit, but honestly it’s just a front to her inner core. Of someone who likes to snipe and have fun. Wonder what caused her to be like that? hm.

Bandanna/Daphyne. She exudes an aura of edge, an aura of Not Caring... but she really does care... a lot more than she lets on. Will Fight anybody who disses her pals. Honestly a teen girl at heart. Loves black.

RETRO/AKIM/AGENT 4. A bit of a prick, but the kind of prick you know doesn’t mean his words. He’s kind of skilled in battle with his roller, which makes this W O R SE !! a big fan of music, and gaming, and also being gay. he makes jokes about that a lot.

SPECS/MARK: you know the stereotypical nerd? stays in a bedroom most of the day, tinkering around with stuff? That’s Specs! He likes to play video games with Retro, and... oh, look at that, another ship. Wow. Analytical!

SUNNY/GWEN. Similar to another person, she appears to not care, while caring a lot. Apathetic seeming, but able to come out of her core to care. Probably has a lot of interests from her girlfriend...

RAINY/SARAH. She’s fueled by a firey passion most of the time, but it tends to fizzle out quickly, and that’s how she and Sunny met, basically. Not pictured is the Traditional Headband she wears. Yes, she and Sunny are girlfriends. yay matching outfits.

PAINT! Er, she looks... not like this as much? Her gloves cover her fingers, and her hairstyle is the enemy octo hairstyle! In the ‘first game’ aka the first arc, she actually wears the paintball mask which covers her whole face, and also mains chargers. She just switched to brella in the second game. Shy, kind of nervous, but willing to put her foot down when push comes to shove. Er, she also has to be pushed to that point. Poor girl.

FISHFRY. A super out-there kinda kid. sorry, some ocs don’t have much personality. He will Protecc Paint with his life. Probably does research and field expeditions for her.

PEAKS. Proud of her role in battle, and probably the first one Paint trusted with the secret of her being an octoling, and the one best fit to break the news.

VECTOR. Full Attacc mode. Fueled by battle, loves to battle. Whenever Paint is taken off guard, she’s probably the one there to back her up.

ZEKKO. Leader of the Marksmen. Sorry there isn’t much about him. he’s definitely gay tho? Loves bothering the other players with his gun.

PANEL. A bit of a nerd, though he hides it behind his huge blaster.

SQUIDMARK. Reclusive? shows little emotion, but its definitely there.

CHECK. Loves the feeling of his hair. Probably more muscly than you would gather from his shirt.

SATIN. Loves this style and doesn’t get why people laugh at her scuba mask. knows what she’s doing in battle, but... not much outside of it.

CANCEL. Tends to ignore the outside world for her daydreams, even in battles, and still does well?? how does this team function

Ah, this is how they function. PARKA. Aka the straight person- well, they’re nonbinary and are hiding their ponytail in that hat of theirs. The person who sets the team straight and directs them in the right direction. Beakons help.

Zink. Just as odd as the rest of his team. He says his headband helps him, when it very clearly doesn’t. Or maybe it does and its just a hidden condition. Who knows? He’s just a bit bizarre.

BERRY. Leader of her team, she’s Suspicious of everything, and fierce in battle. Loves being Warm....

Olive. Er, he has the wrong ink color, and his eyes are blinking. It’s better like this instead of the WRONG PIECE OF HEADGEAR. Suave and cool, and yet constantly bickers with Berry. Ah, sibling culture. Super strong. A bit of a brat, but he won’t press on Berry’s anxious triggers. That’s Just Rude.

JELLY. Sometimes called Baby because of just how precious she acts. Will kick people if she has to.

SHRIMP. AKA... well. You know that headcanon that Pearl, Emperor, and Prince are siblings? Well, Shrimp’s their cousin. He’s got the short genes. He tries to compensate for it by being loud, and is often jokingly called Pearl’s cousin. Likes telling tales. That are often mostly true.

SPLATOON 2 TEAMS

HOOK/ATA/AGENT 8. A soft and kind soul, friendly and loves to talk more than take action, but when she takes action... whooo. she knows how to take action. If she’s angry, you don’t want to be around. Mostly quiet. Another possible ship with Roka.

YAMAGIRI/ADRIAN. Confident, and a bit cocky, but it’s mostly only a bit of exaggeration: he loves to stick to his ideals, and truly believes himself to be carrying those out to the best of his ability. Stupidly loyal to his friends.

TOOTHPICK/NOELANI. Two words to describe her: mom friend. Caring, worrying for everybody that crosses her vision, analytical to a stupid degree. Strong, so she can help throw her friends into a food cart so they can EAT FOOD. 

OCEANIC/VICTOR. A soft-spoken octoling, but is willing to do whatever it takes for his friends to Remain Happy, happy to shoulder their burdens. Hides his emotions under his big ol’ hat, though if you look under it, he’s probably a blubbering mess. Whenever angered, his voice seems to drop octaves and inflection. That’s terrifying!

BLOCKER. Oh my god, he’s a party animal. Oh my god. He likes doing memes and tricks, and, you know who this should remind you of? Aloha. Anyway, Blocker’s well known for his tricks with his brella, and his excellent dance skills... which also aids him in battle!

FUGU. He has a Big Ol Crush on Blocker, and I don’t think Blocker’s noticed yet. Oof. Kind of quiet and likes to observe before hopping into things, useful for a blaster with such a short range...? Awkward, but he’s trying to get better.

SEA SLUG. Constantly on the go, constantly moving, she’s gotta Go Go Go!! Hyperactive, probably can be seen stimming. Has an attachment to her gun.

LEAF. Seemingly hard-boiled, constantly huffing about something or other. She’s- she’s a Rider Tsundere, that’s all I can describe her as. Her friendships with Blocker the Party Master and Sea Slug have definitely Lightened her up. Still a little bit of a grump?

ARROW. Dependable. You can depend on him to tell you when you’re doing some Bad Shit, Stop That.

HOTHOUSE. A... a bit of a flirt, and a good punster. two things that shouldn’t be combined into one girl.

TACKLE VISOR. Keeps their face hidden purposefully, which hides their non-standard hairstyle. Rough and tough, a sneaky little bastard. You know, despite the TACKLE VISOR on their head.

MATCHA. A silly little guy. The oblivious one that somehow still manages to cooperate with Hothouse’s jokes anyway. May be faking obliviousness...

HICKORY. Such a casual guy. Him and Blocker are probably pals. Party pals. Would drink your soda on accident and then apologize.

DO-RAG. oh my god, look, it’s a lesbian. She loves to show off, and is super strong. Could probably lift her teammates above her head. Actually can’t see much without her glasses, they’re made for her weird-ass eyes.

REDLEAF. He looks like the type of guy who hyperfocuses on everything and has to be told to back off, but he’s not trying to be creepy. Soft. Would memorize your food favorites and cook it for you.

CLAMS. He. he loves being super fancy. Not because he thinks he’s above others, he really, really loves the aesthetic of it! He and Do-Rag fight over which splatling is better sometimes. And then help each other score dates.

EGG. Super silly, has probably eaten a raw egg whole on a dare. Easily dared into things, though this means she’s very resilient. Can and Will say silly things just to confuse people.

CARROT. Helps out with Egg’s jokes. Has shoved an entire carrot down her gut before. Egg and her were actually friends before they both traveled to the surface. They are... bad influences on each other.

RAINBOW: He’s a casual gay. I- uh. He’s super fun in battles, and is often the one daring Egg and Carrot to do things because he loves putting it on whatever the octo media is. Loves sandals, hates his toes feeling constricted.

CANARY. Oh my god this is a swamp gremlin. You know the meme versions of agent 4? that, times like 100. Jesus. This team is crazy.

SEASHELL. Doesn’t use the deco because her teammates described what the burstbomb and carbon did to people and she doesn’t wish to cause people harm....

JADE. he’s blue ba due be- i mean. he’s a good singer, but still learning the ropes of his new weapon.

DEEPSEA. A friend. The dad friend. Will tell jokes to make you feel better, but always a shoulder to lean on. Always will wear silly clothes too.

FORGE. ..... a guy of few words.... kind of like skull. doesn’t really talk much, but evidently is a good prankster and loves spicy things. Will tuck you into bed and then doodle on your face.

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Electric kettles also offer numerous safety features such as boil dry protection which shuts the unit off when no water is detected, automatic safety shut-off when water has reached the desired temperature and shut-off when kettle is removed from base. Electric kettles also have heat resistant, cool-touch bottoms which allow for placement directly on a table or counter-top for easy portability and serving. • Custom brew a refreshing pitcher of iced tea at the touch of a button with the new Capresso Iced Tea Maker. Iced tea can be served and stored in the beautiful glass pitcher. 18 delicious recipes, including Blackberry Hibiscus Iced Tea, Refreshing Mint Green Tea and Fresh Peach Iced Tea are provided with the product. • In order to understand the difference between a coffee machine and an espresso machine we first need to understand the difference between espresso and coffee (also known as filter coffee, drip coffee or pour over coffee). Ultimately all coffee comes from the same place, the coffee bean. But each kind of machine has a different process and creates a different coffee experience. Which type of machine creates a better coffee? The coffee machine vs espresso machine debate has coffee connoisseurs divided worldwide. The goal of each machine is to create the best possible drink, but that of course, comes down to personal taste. • • What is espresso? • Espresso is a quintessential Italian drink that has now been adopted by coffee lovers worldwide. It is brewed by expressing or forcing out a small amount of nearly boiling water under pressure through finely ground coffee beans. The end product is known as a ‘shot’ and has a rich and creamy flavour. It can be consumed as it is or it can be used as the basis for other types of coffee such as cappuccino, latte, macchiato, ristretto or long black. The easiest way to make espresso coffee is with a Nespresso capsule machine. • Espressos are thicker in consistency than filter coffee and contain a higher level of caffeine. They also have layers known as the heart, body and the crema. • Heart The heart is the bottom layer of the espresso shot that contains the bitter qualities of the coffee. The colour of the heart should be a deep, rich brown. • Body The body is the middle layer of the espresso shot and is caramel brown in colour. • Crema The crema is the sweet golden layer that sits on top of an espresso shot. This is where the aroma comes from and some of the finest flavours. It is also the part of the shot that helps to create the coffee art that is often seen on barista cappuccinos and lattes. • What is coffee machine coffee? • Hot water is poured over ground coffee where it absorbs the flavours and oils of the beans. It then gradually drips through a filter into a mug or container below. It’s as simple as that. 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Original capsules contain between 50mg and 120mg, Vertuo capsules range from 70mg to 150 mg of caffeine for Espresso and Gran Lungo pours, and between 170mg and 200 mg per cup for Mug and Alto coffee sizes. Espresso machine vs coffee maker Which is better? Most coffee lovers world-wide would argue that espresso machines offer a more authentic, richer, creamier coffee experience. An espresso machine also allows you to select various types of coffee depending on your mood, taste or desired strength. In comparison, coffee makers are a one-function machine and will certainly produce a weaker coffee. If you are a coffee enthusiast, you will almost certainly prefer the end product delivered by an espresso machine. • For hundreds of years, making a cup of coffee was a simple process. Roasted and ground coffee beans were placed in a pot or pan, to which hot water was added, followed by attachment of a lid to commence the infusion process. Pots were designed specifically for brewing coffee, all with the purpose of trying to trap the coffee grounds before the coffee is poured. Typical designs feature a pot with a flat expanded bottom to catch sinking grounds and a sharp pour spout that traps the floating grinds. Other designs feature a wide bulge in the middle of the pot to catch grounds when coffee is poured. • In France, in about 1710, the Infusion brewing process was introduced. This involved submersing the ground coffee, usually enclosed in a linen bag, in hot water and letting it steep or "infuse" until the desired strength brew was achieved. Nevertheless, throughout the 19th and even the early 20th centuries, it was considered adequate to add ground coffee to hot water in a pot or pan, boil it until it smelled right, and pour the brew into a cup. • There were lots of innovations from France in the late 18th century. With help from Jean-Baptiste de Belloy, the Archbishop of Paris, the idea that coffee should not be boiled gained acceptance. The first modern method for making coffee using a coffee filter—drip brewing—is more than 125 years old, and its design had changed little. The biggin, originating in France ca. 1780, was a two-level pot holding coffee in a cloth sock in an upper compartment into which water was poured, to drain through holes in the bottom of the compartment into the coffee pot below. Coffee was then dispensed from a spout on the side of the pot. The quality of the brewed coffee depended on the size of the grounds - too coarse and the coffee was weak; too fine and the water would not drip the filter. A major problem with this approach was that the taste of the cloth filter - whether cotton, burlap or an old sock - transferred to the taste of the coffee. Around the same time, a French inventor developed the "pumping percolator", in which boiling water in a bottom chamber forces itself up a tube and then trickles (percolates) through the ground coffee back into the bottom chamber. Among other French innovations, Count Rumford, an eccentric American scientist residing in Paris, developed a French Drip Pot with an insulating water jacket to keep the coffee hot. Also, the first metal filter was developed and patented by French inventor. • Other coffee brewing devices became popular throughout the nineteenth century, including various machines using the vacuumprinciple. The Napier Vacuum Machine, invented in 1840, was an early example of this type. While generally too complex for everyday use, vacuum devices were prized for producing a clear brew, and were popular up until the middle of the twentieth century. • The principle of a vacuum brewer was to heat water in a lower vessel until expansion forced the contents through a narrow tube into an upper vessel containing ground coffee. When the lower vessel was empty and sufficient brewing time had elapsed, the heat was removed and the resulting vacuum would draw the brewed coffee back through a strainer into the lower chamber, from which it could be decanted. The Bauhaus interpretation of this device can be seen in Gerhard Marcks' Sintrax coffee maker of 1925. • An early variant technique, called a balance siphon, was to have the two chambers arranged side-by-side on a sort of scale-like device, with a counterweight attached opposite the initial (or heating) chamber. Once the near-boiling water was forced from the heating chamber into the brewing one, the counterweight was activated, causing a spring-loaded snuffer to come down over the flame, thus turning "off" the heat, and allowing the cooled water to return to the original chamber. In this way, a sort of primitive 'automatic' brewing method was achieved. • On August 27, 1930, Inez H. Pierce of Chicago, Illinois filed patent for the first vacuum coffee maker that truly automated the vacuum brewing process, while eliminating the need for a stove top burner or liquid fuels.[1] An electrically heated stove was incorporated into the design of the vacuum brewer. Water was heated in a recessed well, which reduced wait times and forced the hottest water into the reaction chamber. Once the process was complete, a thermostat using bi-metallic expansion principles shut off heat to the unit at the appropriate time. Pierce's invention was the first truly "automatic" vacuum coffee brewer, and was later incorporated in the Farberware Coffee Robot. • Pierce's design was later improved by U.S. appliance engineers Ivar Jepson, Ludvik Koci, and Eric Bylund of Sunbeam in the late 1930s. They altered the heating chamber and eliminated the recessed well which was hard to clean. They also made several improvements to the filtering mechanism. Their improved design of plated metals, styled by industrial designer Alfonso Iannelli, became the famous Sunbeam Coffeemaster line of automated vacuum coffee makers (Models C-20, C-30, C40, and C-50). The Coffeemaster vacuum brewer was sold in large numbers in the United States during the years immediately following World War I. • At the beginning of the twentieth century, although some coffee makers tended to uniformity of design (particularly stovetop percolators), others displayed a wide variety of styling differences. In particular, the vacuum brewer, which required two fully separate chambers joined in an hourglass configuration, seemed to inspire industrial designers. Interest in new designs for the vacuum brewer revived during the American Arts & Crafts movement with the introduction of "Silex" brand coffee makers, based on models developed by Massachusetts housewives Ann Bridges and Mrs. Sutton. Their use of Pyrex solved the problem of fragility and breakability that had made this type of machine commercially unattractive. During the 1930s, simple, clean forms, increasingly of metal, attracted positive attention from industrial designers heavily influenced by the functionalist imperative of the Bauhaus and Streamlinemovements. It was at this time that Sunbeam's sleek Coffeemaster vacuum brewer appeared, styled by the famous industrial designer Alfonso Iannelli. The popularity of glass and Pyrex globes temporarily revived during the Second World War, since aluminum, chrome, and other metals used in traditional coffee makers became restricted in availability. • The impact of science and technological advances as a motif in post-war design was eventually felt in the manufacture and marketing of coffee and coffee-makers. Consumer guides emphasized the ability of the device to meet standards of temperature and brewing time, and the ratio of soluble elements between brew and grounds. The industrial chemist Peter Schlumbohm expressed the scientific motif most purely in his "Chemex" coffeemaker, which from its initial marketing in the early 1940s used the authority of science as a sales tool, describing the product as "the Chemist's way of making coffee", and discussing at length the quality of its product in the language of the laboratory: "the funnel of the CHEMEX creates ideal hydrostatic conditions for the unique... Chemex extraction." Schlumbohm's unique brewer, a single Pyrex vessel shaped to hold a proprietary filter cone, resembled nothing more than a piece of laboratory equipment, and surprisingly became popular for a time in the otherwise heavily automated, technology-obsessed 1950s household. • In later years, coffeemakers began to adopt more standardized forms commensurate with a large increase in the scale of production required to meet postwar consumer demand. Plastics and composite materials began to replace metal, particularly with the advent of newer electric drip coffeemakers in the 1970s. During the 1990s, consumer demand for more attractive appliances to complement expensive modern kitchens resulted in a new wave of redesigned coffeemakers in a wider range of available colors and styles. • Illy’s singular, signature blend is a rich symphony of nine pure, sustainably grown Arabica beans from four continents.

Eight decades of experience and expertise creates a taste, feel and aroma that is Illy's own.

Illy is a world leader in responsibly sourced coffee, and has been recognized by the Ethisphere Institute as one of the World's most ethical companies for the last 4 years. • A touch of a button starts the patented Iperespresso 'hyperinfusion' process that yields pure pleasure in a cup.

A capsule of the legendary Illy nine-bean Arabica blend creates a rich, aromatic and balanced espresso with a lasting crema.

Easy to use, no mess, stylish machines with a range of modern and retro looks. The Coffee Scent Offers a wide selection of Saeco Coffee Machine. SaGa Coffee S.p.A., or Saeco for short, is an Italian manufacturer of manual, super-automatic and capsule espresso machines and other electrical goods with headquarters and factories in Gaggio Montano, located near Bologna. The company was founded by Sergio Zappella and Arthur Schmed in 1981 as Sergio, Arthur e Compagnia. In 1985 they launched the first completely automatic espresso machine for domestic use, called Superautomatica and in 1999 they bought the historic espresso brand of Gaggia. With Saeco Coffee Machine you can get your perfect brew of the day! • IE Global operates since 2007 under the name "The Coffee Scent". We started out as a humble cafe located at 125 Telok Ayer. Due to a popular demand within the industry, we then decided to expand our business and enter the wholesaling industry by doing coffee machine wholesale and related products such as coffee beans, coffee brewing tools and also cleaning and sanitation for coffee machines for the SEA region. • The Coffee Scent (TCS) is the representation in the diversity of our business role in Singapore and SEA. We not only do coffee machine wholesale, but we also supply high-quality coffee and tea and other on-demand product selections around the world, followed by high-end coffee machines and coffee brewing tools from Europe, Japan, Korea and Taiwan which you can view on our eShop and our website. Our experiences in Cafe operations allow us to understand the needs of our customers or any industry related operating challenges and cater to such needs. • • Our experiences would also enable us to guide a customer who is a new F&B start-up towards a successful operating business by sharing our experiences and providing top of the line machines to them. • • The Coffee Scent is always your best partner in providing freshness & more. • Coffee is one of the most popular drinks around the world. Derived from the coffee plant, coffee beans can easily be transformed into flavoursome roasts, blends, espressos and other gourmet drinks.

Legend has it that coffee was first discovered in the 9th century by an Arabian shepherd who found his goats dancing around a dark green leafed plant with bright red cherries. Once the shepherd realised that it was the cherries that were causing his goats reaction, he tried the berries himself before telling a nearby monastery of his discovery. The monks then found the plant and brewed the cherries in boiling water to drink. Our disire and a passion to bring all values of coffee to people and  hope to help protect our green planet from the global warming with people around the world, in the beginning 2000, we had started researching on coffee and its values that means to our life.  After many years of research, we decided to establish Kien Nam Trading Import – Export Co., Ltd. on 2008 to set a foundation for further development in order to make dream come true. in the end of 2009, we have successfully studied and the name COPEN COFFEE was officially born. With our  desire, all of us  want  Copen Coffee will give people a different  look on coffee, and  contribute simultaneously  to create a new better world, a world for community health Here are 5 facts about coffee beans that you may not know:

1. There are two main types of coffee bean used in coffee production; they are the Arabica bean and the Robusta bean. Arabica beans are the most commonly used and preferred flavour, while Robusta beans are more hardy and contain almost double the amount of caffeine.

2. The coffee bean is the seed of the fruit grown on the coffee plant. The seeds are usually picked by hand before being removed from the skin and washed. They are then either left out in the sun to dry or dried by machine before being roasted and brewed to drink.

3. The caffeine in the beans helps to give us a kick start to our day. It also makes us more alert and increases our concentration levels.

4. No coffee is grown in the United States, despite its popularity there. All US coffee beans come from Hawaii and Puerto Rico.

5. The majority of coffee in the world comes from South America. Brazil and Colombia are responsible for some of the finest coffee on the market, which is mainly due to their countries warm climate which is perfect for cultivating large coffee plantations.

Now that you know a little bit more about coffee beans, you may enjoy your next cup of coffee that little bit more. 10 Things You Might Not Know About Caffeine Most of us consume it every day, but how much do we really know about caffeine? The naturally-occurring substance with a bitter taste stimulates the central nervous system, making you feel more alert. In moderate doses, it can actually offer health benefits, including boosts to memory, concentration and mental health. And coffee in particular, a major source of caffeine for Americans, has been associated with a host of body perks, including a possible decreased risk of alzheimer's disease and certain cancers. But in excess amounts, caffeine overuse can trigger a fast heart rate, insomnia, anxiety and restlessness, among other side effects. Abruptly stopping use can lead tosymptoms of withdrawal, including headaches and irritability. Below are 10 lesser-known facts about one of the most common drugs in the world.

Decaf isn't the same as caffeine free. Think switching to decaf in the afternoon means you aren't getting any of the stimulant? Think again. One Journal of Analytical Toxicology report looked at nine different types of decaffeinated coffee and determined that all but one contained caffeine. The dose ranged from 8.6 mg to 13.9 mg. (A generic brewed cup of regular coffee typically contains between 95 and 200 mg, as a point of comparison. A 12-ounce can of Coke contains between 30 and 35 mg, according to the Mayo Clinic.)

"If someone drinks five to 10 cups of decaffeinated coffee, the dose of caffeine could easily reach the level present in a cup or two of caffeinated coffee," study co-author Bruce Goldberger, Ph.D., a professor and director of UF's William R. Maples Center for Forensic Medicine, said in a statement when the study was released. "This could be a concern for people who are advised to cut their caffeine intake, such as those with kidney disease or anxiety disorders."

A 2007 Consumer Reports analysis looked at 36 cups of decaffeinated coffee and found that some contained more than 20 mg, Health.com reported. According to the American Academy of Sleep Medicine, it takes about 30 to 60 minutes for caffeine to reach its peak level in the blood (one study found increased alertness can begin in as few as 10 minutes). The body typically eliminates half of the drug in three to five hours, and the remainder can linger for eight to 14 hours. Some people, particularly those who don't regularly consume caffeine, are more sensitive to the effects than others. Sleep experts often recommend abstaining from caffeine at least eight hours before bedtime to avoid wakefulness at night. The body might process caffeine differently based on gender, race and even birth control use. New York magazine previously reported: Women generally metabolize caffeine faster than men. Smokers process it twice as quickly as nonsmokers do. Women taking birth-control pills metabolize it at perhaps one-third the rate that women not on the Pill do. Asians may do so more slowly than people of other races. In The World of Caffeine: The Science and Culture of the World’s Most Popular Drug, authors Bennett Alan Weinberg and Bonnie K. Bealer hypothesize that a nonsmoking Japanese man drinking his coffee with an alcoholic beverage -- another slowing agent -- would likely feel caffeinated “about five times longer than an Englishwoman who smoked cigarettes but did not drink or use oral contraceptives.” A strong, rich flavor might seem to indicate an extra dose of caffeine, but the truth is that light roasts actually pack more of a jolt than dark roasts. The process of roasting burns off caffeine, NPR reported, meaning those looking for a less intense buzz might want to opt for the dark roast java at the coffee shop.

By definition, one might reasonably think that energy drinks would pack loads of caffeine. But many popular brands actually contain considerably less than an old-fashioned cup of black coffee. An 8.4-ounce serving of Red Bull, for instance, has a relatively modest 76 to 80 mg of caffeine, compared to the 95 to 200 mg in a typical cup of coffee, the Mayo Clinic reports. What many energy drink brands frequently do have, though, is tons of sugar and hard-to-pronounce ingredients (check out our video report on the subject here). And for more on how much caffeine is in tea, soft drinks and other products. It's not just coffee beans: tea leaves, kola nuts (which flavor colas) and cocoa beans all contain caffeine. The stimulant is found naturally in the leaves, seeds and fruits of a wide variety of plants. It can also be manmade and added to products. When if comes to caffeine, all coffees are not created equal. According to a recent report from the Center for Science in the Public Interest, popular brands varied widely when it comes to the jolt they provided. McDonald's, for instance, had 9.1 mg per fluid ounce, while Starbucks packed more than double that at a full 20.6 milligrams. According to the FDA, 80 percent of U.S. adults consume caffeine each day, with an individual intake of 200 mg. To put that in real world terms, the average caffeine-consuming American drinks two five-ounce cups of coffee or about four sodas. While another estimate puts the total closer to 300 mg, both numbers fall within the definition of moderate caffeine consumption, which is between 200 and 300 mg,according to the Mayo Clinic. Daily doses higher than 500 to 600 mg daily are considered heavy, and may cause problems such as insomnia, irritability and a fast heartbeat, among others. According to a recent BBC article, Finland takes the crown for the country with the highest caffeine consumption, with the average adult downing 400 mg each day. Worldwide, 90 percent of people use caffeine in some form, the FDA says. According to one FDA report, more than 98 percent of our caffeine intake comes from beverages. But those aren't the only sources of caffeine: certain foods, such as chocolate (though not much: a one-ounce milk chocolate bar contains only about 5 mg of caffeine), and medications can also contain caffeine. Combining a pain reliever with caffeine can make it 40 percent more effective, the Cleveland Clinic reports, and can also help the body to absorb the medication more quickly.

Coffee is more than popular: it's ubiquitous. No other beverage is as revered or respected. It can be seen in offices, during commutes, and on kitchen counter tops worldwide.

Coffee exporting alone is a $20 billion dollar industry, mostly consumed by industrialized nations while being produced by the world's underclass. It's so beloved today, you would never know drinking coffee once carried the death penalty. After crude oil, coffee is the most sought commodity in the world There's no shame in coming in second place to oil. Coffee is worth over $100 billion worldwide.

That puts it ahead of commodities like natural gas, gold, brent oil, sugar and corn. Despite the different flavors and varieties, there are really only two types of coffee Arabica and robusta are the two main commercially grown and sold coffee beans. Arabica is the more common type of bean grown (70 percent of coffee is Arabica), and it's considered more flavorful. Robusta is hardier and cheaper, most commonly seen in instant coffee jars. Despite the different flavors and varieties, there are really only two types of coffee Arabica and robusta are the two main commercially grown and sold coffee beans. Arabica is the more common type of bean grown (70 percent of coffee is Arabica), and it's considered more flavorful. Robusta is hardier and cheaper, most commonly seen in instant coffee jars. Coffee is the source of 75 percent of America's caffeine Substantially more than any tea, soda or energy drink. Coffee shops are the fastest growing niche in the restaurant business

If it seems like there are coffee shops popping up everywhere around you, you might be right — coffee shops have a seven percent annual growth rate. Starbucks, by far America's coffee giant, is the third largest restaurant chain in the U.S.

90 percent of the world's coffee production takes place in developing countries And its consumption takes place in industrialized nations. The top three producers of coffee are Brazil, Vietnam and Columbia.

The Smeg coffee machine can, indeed, use both ground coffee and coffee pods, allowing Italian coffee lovers to choose their favourite roast and take home that real espresso bar taste and aroma. Designed and produced in Italy, Smeg ovens are excellent cooking appliances with exclusive designs that always offer peak performance. Smeg's complete range of aesthetically refined built-in ovens has evolved through serious research, offering peak performance across a range of functions and guaranteeing maximum flexibility of use with maximum safety. Truly unique appliances which combine different materials superbly, such as stainless steel, glass and enamel, Smeg ovens vary in terms of size, functions and cooking methods. Electric models include pizza, convection, fan and pyrolytic ovens. Gas, steam, microwave and combination ovens are also available, allowing you to handle any recipe and cook food perfectly. Symbolic objects, icons that transform the space that they occupy, the new 50’s Retro Style small appliances recollect the past. They are capable of shaping everyday spaces, they breathe new life into old ways and preceding habits, such as is the way in art and memory. Curved and compact products, star characters of the kitchen, developed for people who want to dabble at being a chef, but not only.

From the 2x2 and 2x4 slice toasters, to the standard or variable temperature kettles, from the blender and stand mixer to the slow juicer, citrus juicer, espresso coffee machine and the hand blender, Smeg small domestic appliances, realized in collaboration with architects Matteo Bazzicalupo and Raffaella Mangiarotti from deepdesign,  are tools that ensure excellent performance in all stages of food preparation, and have powerful personalities to match. Make your morning that little bit brighter with our fantastic range of coffee machines. No matter how you take your coffee, we’ve got a machine in your budget that’ll give you amazing results, every time you brew up.

Get an authentic barista experience with one of our exceptional bean to cup machines, or pick up an Espresso coffee maker for that ideal pick-me-up. Check out our filter coffee machines for that quick and easy beverage, and for the ultimate in convenience, our pod coffee machines are super-simple to use.

Take your pick from top manufacturers too, with coffee specialists like Nespresso, Dolce Gusto and Melitta, plus renowned kitchen appliance brands like Sage, KitchenAid and De’Longhi. And with ao.com you can get your coffee machine fast, with next day delivery available 7 days a week.

Preparing delicious hot drinks can be so easy! Your TASSIMO makes it so easy, and with little effort required, to prepare a variety of delicious hot drinks. Forget about long heating-up times thanks to the innovative flow-through heater, the Tassimo Happy can make your first drink immediately. Preparing delicious hot drinks can be so easy! Your TASSIMO makes it so easy, and with little effort required, to prepare a variety of delicious hot drinks. Simply insert a T DISC and start the fully automatic preparation using the practical one button operation. Thanks to the innovative flow-through heater, the TASSIMO does not take a long time to heat up, and you can prepare your first hot drink immediately. Water does not have to be heated up between different drinks, either. With patented barcode technology Intellibrew™, the drink specialities from Tassimo are always perfectly prepared with the correct amount of water, at the right tempreture and the right brewing time.

Great bundle featuring the Essenza coffee machine and Aeroccino milk frother. The Essenza is Nespresso's most compact machine yet - without any compromise on taste. Offering 2 programmable cup sizes, the Essenza Mini creates the perfect coffee just the way you like it. Small machine for big coffee moments. The most compact nespresso machine, to fit consumer'space. Lengh: 11 cm. A concentrate of nespresso expertise, delivering uncompromising pleasure. Brand new design with curvy lines. Great choice of 3 different colors : pure white, ruby red and lime green. Access the world of nespresso coffee. Enjoy espresso and lungo just the way you like thanks to two programmable buttons. De'Longhi patented automatic cappuccino system: to obtain real cappuccino and latte macchiato automatically into the cup or glass. Reduced heating up time, ready in approximately 25 seconds with 6 tactile beverage buttons to choose your favorite drink: ristretto, espresso, long, hot milk, cappuccino and latte macchiato in a simple and intuitive way. 6 tactile beverage buttons to choose your favorite drink: Espresso, Long, Milkylatte, Cappuccino, Latte macchiato and Hot milk in a simple and intuitive way. High-performing 19-bar pressure pump. Thermoblock heating system. Automatic ejection of capsules. Collecting tank for used capsules (10 capsules). Removable water tank (0.9 l). Cable storage underneath the machine to adjust cable length

Enjoy an enhanced coffee & milk experience and the possibility to easily create an authentic top-quality latte art coffee. Thanks to an innovative, automatic and expert steam pipe capable of: adjustable milk temperature (5 settings), adjustable froth quality (4 texture levels), temperature sensing and fast / self-cleaning. 7 coffee selections to choose from. Available settings: 3 coffee volume settings (from 25 to 150 ml), 4 milk texture/froth settings (from 2 to 30 mm) and 5 milk temperature settings (from 55 to 75c). Comes with a 480ml stainless steel milk jug, pop out cup support, removable drip grid and removable drip tray. Bring the cafe bistro into your home with a Hotpoint Coffee Machine (CM5038 IX H). Featuring hot water tap and steam nozzle. Impress your friends with, full-flavoured beverages, enjoy delicious, freshly brewed coffee, herbal tea infusions and rich hot, milky hot chocolates any time of day. New exclusive single serve system, thanks to an optical sensor the machine recognizes the quantity of milk in the jug and uses all, avoiding any waste. Easy and effortless preparation of cappuccino and latte macchiato recipe at the touch of a button, without any milk waste. 3 beverage backlighted buttons to choose the favorite drink: espresso, lungo and a milk recipe which delivers 40 ml of coffee and either 135 ml or 330 ml of frothed milk in a very simple and intuitive way. Compact milk jug for single beverages, all dishwasher safe and with maximum foam level only practical system of capsules introduction. Sliding drip tray, to allow use of both coffee cups and glasses for latte macchiato. Reduced heating up time, ready in approximately 25 seconds high-performing 19-bar pressure pump.

Worldwide, we drink over 500 billion cups of coffee every year And of that number, 14 billion are

The First Time [Part 1] (Drake x MC x Liam)

Word Count: 1,559

Paring: Drake x Jaela x Liam

Rating: M/NSFW-ish

Warnings: Language, Sexuality/Mild NSFW content (Part 2 is fully NSFW)

Suggested Song Accompaniment: 679 & No Diggity-- Jackson Breit 

Note: Welcome to the first fully fledged Drake x Jaela x Liam fic. You can find more of them, and a little backstory of this AU, on my MASTERLIST. This is Part 1 of 2, part 2 dropping TOMORROW EVENING CST. Split because it would have been MASSIVE... and why not tease a bit before Thirsty Thursday?

Tag List: @ashtonmore, @bobasheebaby

Drake

The wood splits, right along the middle, and Drake wipes sweat off his brow, setting the axe to the side. Finally, the last one. He tosses the two into the pile and wipes his hands. Looking up at the sky, he shivers—not because of the chill air tingling his pores—but because of the colors of dusk, rapidly approaching. That meant the night was near. Not just any night around the bonfire with Liam and Jaela—the night.

 Their plan—brought to fruition by his confessed his desires, hopefully, coming to life tonight. Drake runs a hand through his messy hair, turning to the blackened bonfire pit, adjusting a stone in the circle. Then he begins to build the base for it, thick fingers breaking the small branches for kindling, licking his lips. Of course, of course, they could have just asked Liam—but Drake couldn’t help think of the pure fucking sexiness of the moment just… happening. Naturally. Free. Passionate. Nothing holding them back.

 The clinking of ice alerts him to Jaela, walking up with a whiskey in hand, running her hand along his shoulders when she meets him down at the pit, a soft smile on her face. “Hey Abdi,” he says, standing up after placing a log, kissing her, arm around her waist. His son, James, is secure around her midsection in a wrap. Drake leans down and kisses the top of his tiny head, the baby looking at him with those brown eyes that melt him every time for the past four months.

 “Mm, hey,” she says, her dark eyes twinkling despite the low light. The forest is alive with creatures settling in for the evening. James makes a little sound, hand curling into a fist, shutting his eyes. “Tomás and Allie are down. James is about to sleep, but I wanted to walk him around a bit more.”

 Drake smiles, kissing her forehead. God, she’s perfect. Why didn’t he they run away together earlier? Why didn’t he follow them? Join them? “Think they’ll… stay asleep tonight?” he asks, sipping his whiskey.

 Jaela nods. “They’re all good sleepers. Even this little guy.” Her voices softens and Drake swears he could fall in love with her a million more times by the way she looks at James, finger stroking his soft cheek. “So I doubt they’d wake up tonight of all nights.”

 He nods, gulping. “You know… this is different, though. What if we are too loud or…?” He shakes his head. “If it happens, you know things are going to change, right? Forever?”

 She bites her lower lip, eyes glinting. “I know. I want them to. Don’t you?”

 He nods, Liam’s eyes appearing in his mind for a second. Eyes, so blue and honest and…. Yes, yes he does. “I do.”

 She smirks, going on her toes to kiss him. “Get the fire going. Liam should be out of the shower now. I’m making the first round of drinks. Well, second, in your case.”

Jaela

 Three rounds later, baby monitor blissfully silent, Jaela throws her head back in laughter, eyes bright. She crosses her legs, fingers brushing Drake’s hand. The fire, orange, dims in the slightest, the heat it once radiated fading from their skin—but inside, oh, she’s just warming up.

 “I’ll get some more logs,” Liam says, setting down his half empty glass. Good. Drink four… or… how much longer would it take for their plan to happen? She could feel the electricity between her and Drake every time they touch or glance at each other around the bonfire. Liam sits across from them—as it was technically Drake’s night—but how badly she wanted Liam next to her, too. To feel the same electricity that always ran between the men when they touched her separately, but together-- multiplied.

 “Let me help!” She jumps up, Liam arching an eyebrow at her newfound eagerness. Drake chuckles and sips on the whiskey.

 “You never like to…” Liam pauses and his blue eyes linger on her chest, another blouse button undone, revealing the curve of her breasts and the lacy black strap that she knew he liked so goddamn much. Jaela approaches the log pile, ghosting her fingers along his waist as he bends over. Liam gulps, standing up, face flushing beyond the whiskey blush.

 Glancing over at Drake—watching the exchange, a smirk on his lips—Jaela licks her lips and then stands before Liam, bending over to pick up a—hopefully not worm infested—log, pushing her ass against his pelvis. Instantly, it always is with him, he hardens, stifling a groan. She grinds it lightly, and he swears, one hand pressing against her hip, nails digging into the fabric of her jeans. She still had it four months after James and two kids before that then, huh?

 Satisfied, Jaela turns and her lips brush against his ear, teeth grazing the lobe, waiting for his response. Drake is practically burning a hole in her back, but this time, there isn’t the jealousy so often felt back in Cordonia. No… no this is different. A good different. A fucking hot different.

 Liam swallows, taking a finger and tugging on the V of her button blouse, pulling her closer, logs clashing together. “Mm… I thought this was supposed to be his night tonight, Jaela?” His leg is between hers, already she knows how wet she is. Fuck.

 Jaela pulls back, smirking. “I guess you’re right,” she whispers, then pointedly looks back to Drake. Liam follows, locking eyes with him. Only the sounds of the bonfire and animals fill the night, cool air thick and heavy with their tension boiling beneath the surface. “But I guess he didn’t mind watching that.”

 Before he can respond, Jaela returns to the fire and gives Drake a wink. He shifts, his boner evident. Oh, it won’t be long now. She knows how much Liam enjoys teasing—and how little he can hold out with just a touch more whiskey.

 Liam

 A hiss escapes him as the glass clicks his teeth, unintentionally, because he’s not focused. No, like hell he isn’t, enraptured by the sight before him. Jaela, on Drake’s lap, both kissing each other-- hard. Not like the pecks and tender kisses shared in the privacy of their home.

 His eyes drift them as Drake squeezes her ass in her tight jeans, or how her breasts—another button undone—peek as they kiss, lacy bra visible. Oh, the number of times he told her to wear that exact set to please him—and her, of course. It’s always been about her.

 Liam shifts, sipping the whiskey, blue eyes never leaving them. They didn’t seem to notice, Jaela making those soft sounds he loves so much when they kiss, too. There it is again, the bra. Fuck, he thinks, rubbing his face. With how Jaela was acting, he knows that she wore the full set, thong included. Though… he swore Drake preferred the red one. He’d seen that abandoned outside of their bedroom more than once. Huh.

 Liam crosses his legs, blinking rapidly. Too many questions, Liam. You’re feeling good and don’t act like you haven’t…Is it odd to watch? He doesn’t know the answer—it’s not like they don’t catch each other here and there in the home, bedroom door left open, the other always closing it, quietly. Or sometimes, kisses that go farther than expected after a night together the morning after when the kids weren’t around. It never bothers Liam, or Drake for that matter, because they have her, completely. No competition. Just her. Just them. Happy.

 No, it’s not like he wasn’t accustomed to such displays in Cordonia before Jaela. But you’re not in Cordonia anymore, her voice appears, always reminding him of the reality. Not new… but still. His drink empties and Liam leans forward, going to grab the bottle next to him when he freezes, catching Jaela’s eyes—dark with lust—locking with his, Drake’s teeth tugging on her lower lip.

 That bra again, Drake sliding the shoulder off—his eyes joining Liam’s, identical smirks on their faces before they resume kissing, Jaela louder, hand sliding down Drake’s chest. The stiffening of his dick was unmistakable, the lust and longing and thoughts mused about when Jaela was with Drake, bubbling to the surface of the former King. “Fuck it,” he whispers, standing up, walking to them, her shirt nearly unbuttoned to her bellybutton, tits looking so fucking good in that damn bra….

 Wait, maybe he was drunk. They were drunk then, too. Then they were just acting on impulse and not-- Then, as if giving permission, Drake locks eyes with him standing over them, one hand curled into a fist. “Fuck,” Liam breathes. “Fuck it.” He reaches, touching her breast, nipple stiff under the lace. He tweaks it before she looks up at him—and a look passes between all of them, pupils wide and dark, breaths sallow, desire growing the longer they stare.

 Oh, nothing was going to be the same, was it?

 “Is this…”

 But she pulls him into a kiss as an answer, nearly knocking him into Drake—but he doesn’t mind, hand catching on Drake’s knee, Drake licking his lips as he watches the kiss, hand rubbing her inner thigh. No, Liam doesn’t mind at all.

 Neither of them do.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios.