#hes dodged the motion picture for too long
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can you write neteyam and human reader you’re exploring in the forest and ends up losing you and when he finds you after searching for a long time you’re actually having so much fun gathering things and running around and it’s all cute and protective! ^.^
i looove nete n human reader it’s my weakness … i hope u like this!!!
“nete! c’mon!” you call out to your boyfriend as you run amongst the trees. you giggle as you leap over a fallen log in one fluid motion, somehow landing on your feet over the other side.
“hey!” your boyfriends accented voice cackles from behind you, but your feet refuse to relent. obviously, if he really wanted to catch up to you, he would. his long legs give him the advantage. your head dodges branches, and vines, and your legs hop over rocks as you sprint through the foliage.
something bright catches your eyes next to your swift feet, stopping you in your tracks. you’re finally able to take a deep breath as you slowly backtrack. right at the base of a tree trunk, three bright pink flowers sit buried in the dirt, rustling slightly in the wind.
a fwäkìwll; a mantis orchid.
the huffing and puffing boy catches up to you, his usual unruly braids are secured behind his head. with two that must’ve escaped that frame his face perfectly, “you’re nuts, you know that?” he laughs breathlessly.
“look!” you bend down to examine the flora, admiring the softness of the petals, “oh my, it’s so beautiful.”
neteyam can’t help but giggle at how you gawk over a simple little plant. something he’ll never understand, but he will always appreciate your fascination.
your hands reach into the small bag slung across your body to pull out a notebook, flipping to an empty page to sketch a rough draft of the flowers.
his large four-fingered hand rests on the top of your head to softly rustle your hair, pressing his fingers into your skin to slightly massage your scalp. your head angles up to look at him, smiling wide at your boy before stuffing your head back into your book.
your pencil scratches satisfyingly against the lined paper; instinctively bringing your lip between your teeth as you focus.
“i’ll be right back, okay? stay here, my love.” neteyam pats your head as you nod, but truly his words went in one ear and out the other. it was something about him leaving, but your attention is taken up by the flower.
once you have a few key points labeled on your little picture, you finally close the book. your eyes dart around to seek out the blue skin of your na’vi boyfriend, but something else catches your eye.
behind a wide tree trunk in the distance, you see the edge of a plant. the loreyu; also known as the helicoradian!! you excitedly spring to your feet, and creep toward the giant plant. ducking under thick vines and swatting at buzzing bugs.
on the way there, you stumble upon a small stream that has glittering rocks and gems under the water. obviously, you can’t help but snag a few and store them in your bag— but you can’t let yourself get too off track, so you continue forward.
the salmon-colored spiraled plant is almost twenty feet high, which is ginormous compared to your tiny human body. as you grow closer, you realize the one loreyu is surrounded by clusters of smaller and even bigger ones.
“oh my god.” you breathe out in shock as you carefully weave between the helicoradia; already having the knowledge that if they’re merely brushed against, they’ll retract into the ground.
you mindfully sink to your knees, folding your legs underneath your body as you lean back on your heels. you unlatch the notebook from being pressed against your chest, flipping through the used pages to find the one you’re looking for.
you’ve already observed this plant elsewhere in the forest, so theres a few notes and drawings written down already. you decide to perfect the previous drawing you have in the middle of your page, even sketching a close-up of the edge of the leaf.
you tuck your pencil into the crease of the book before closing it and sliding it back into the safety of your bag. you glance up into the sky, but you can barely make out the blue color from the plants that tower over you.
it’s so serene and peaceful; you’re hidden amongst these intimidating plants that are five times the size of you. it seems like nothing could ever hurt you, as if you’re shielded from the unforgiving environment of pandora.
you carefully lay down against the grassy soil. once your back hits the warm ground, you suck in a deep breath— mentally wishing you could breathe their air to be able to smell the fresh dirt.
although the oxygen mask is your key to survive, it’s also so suffocating. one of the biggest problems it gives you is that you’re unable to kiss neteyam whenever you want. only able to get inside the privacy of your room in the scientists shack, but even he needs his own mask.
wait, neteyam. where is neteyam?!
you abruptly sit up in your spot, suddenly feeling as if you’re claustrophobic from the menancing plants that surround you in every which way. oh god, you’re gonna throw up. your feet scramble to stand as you panic, causing your shoulder to brush against the tendrils of the plant.
with a pop, it sucks itself into the ground. the movement creates a chain reaction that triggers the entire field to recoil into the dirt. you watch as each plant disappears, waiting until the area clears entirely. everything around you looks the same, and absolutely nothing looks familiar.
something firm grasps your upper body from behind, strongly spinning you around to face them.
your frozen expression is met with wide, worried eyes that belong to neteyam, “what are you doing?!? where were you?” he lectures as arms tug you tightly into his chest. he briefly embraces you before pulling away just as fast to stare back down at you.
“i told you to stay where you were! why did you walk away?” his voice cracks from his raw emotion, his honey-colored eyes dart frantically over your face.
“i’m—i’m sorry, i- i didn’t realize i walked so far away… i was just taking notes and… drawing.” your voice stumbles over itself.
his shoulders drop slightly from your anxious voice, his eyes watch how your quickened breath slightly fogs the glass of your mask.
coldness washes over his body when he realizes just how harsh he sounds and the points of his ears droop from his realization, “you scared me. i thought i lost you.” his sharp voice has softened and his tight grip loosens on your shoulders.
you take a step forward to stand in between his feet to wrap yourself around his body, smooshing yourself into the warm skin just above his navel. “i’m sorry i won’t do it again.” you whimper out, your apology slightly muffled.
his hand soothingly cradles the back of your head as he holds you against him, “don’t be sorry.” he tsks, “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have left you.”
your head angles up to gaze at him, giving him a soft downturned smile, “well, i should’ve listened to what you were saying.”
“s’okay. you’re with me now, that’s all that matters.” his fingers toy with the elastic band of your oxygen mask, itching to rip it off and kiss you; but he knows that he can’t.
“oh! i uh- i found some crystals! i think you can use them for your clothing and your hair beads, ‘n stuff.. do you wanna see?” your hand wiggles your bag persuadingly with an excited grin.
neteyam stares down at you in awe and nods his head, “‘course i wanna see, ma yawntu. show me.” he nudges his nose in the air for you to continue.
your hands rummage through the weaved sack on your hip, pushing past your notebook to the little bag at the bottom filled with the rocks. you pluck it out to dump the contents into your palm, admiring how the multi-colored crystals sparkle under the sunlight.
“those are perfect. i must make you some jewelry out of them.” his eyes brighten from the idea, “what would you like? a necklace or somethin’ else?” one of his fingertips roll the rocks in your palm to examine them, careful not to push them off into the grass.
“really? you‘re gonna make me something?” your voice sounds surprised, which is shocking to him. of course, he is going to make you something; you’re his mate, his muntxate.
when he first courted you, he gifted you a handmade bracelet — which you’re currently still wearing and have no plans to take it off, and the weaved bag that never leaves your side.
“yes, for you, silly. who else would i make jewelry for?” neteyam rolls his eyes at you playfully, a sneaky smirk crawling it’s way onto his lips.
your eyes flit over his face, still surprised, even after all this time, that you’ve bagged yourself a tall, gorgeous, blue alien. something comes over your body, a sudden rush of adrenaline as you suck in a deep breath of your oxygen to hold your breath.
confusion twists over neteyams features as your hand grips the lower part of your mask to push it over the top of your head, “what are you-?” his question is cut off by your hands reaching up to grip the edge of his waist adornment to tug him down to you.
he happily obliges with a pearly grin, ducking his head down to your height to urgently pull you into a kiss. you smile when his lips move against yours and his hand presses into the small of your back to lean your body slightly backwards.
even though kissing him is a rare occasion in itself, it still feels like the first time— every. single. time.
his tail curls around his back to wrap around your upper thigh to hold your body in place, as if his hands aren’t strong enough to do so by themselves.
neteyam reluctantly pulls back, staring down to admire your beauty without something separating him from you. his hand sits heavy on your neck with his fingers curled up under your jaw. his thumb swipes down the bridge of your nose, and over your plump lips before pulling the mask back over your face.
your human features are so soft, and delicate; he can’t help but touch you without your mask whenever he gets the chance.
once the mask is firmly fitted over your face you suck in, a definitely needed, sharp breath. your chest expands as your lungs inhale the air, giving neteyam a small sad smile. “i love you.” you whisper once you’re finally able to talk.
neteyam’s face lights up from those three words, his lanky arms wrap around your tiny frame to lift you into the air to his height. it’s nothing new to express your love to each other, but whenever he hears those words it feels surreal to him.
the sudden change in height makes you squeal, and wrap your arms around his neck for support, “i love you.” he replies and presses his forehead to the glass, which you instantly lean forward into.
“let’s head back to camp. we can get some food, and just hide in your room and do nothing for the rest of the day?” he offers as he lowers you back down to the ground.
when your feet hit the softness of the grass, your hand reaches out to grab his. neteyam’s fingers practically engulf yours, so you decide to hold onto him the best you can.
“sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.” your voice hums with a content grin.
neteyam gives you a little nod, before looking around to see which way he should go. he begins to walk to lead you back to his ikran, mindful to go slow since his legs are much longer than yours.
but not without his tail wrapping protectively around your leg. this time, he’ll make sure you won’t stray away from his side, not even a little bit...
-
stop this is so cute i’m in love w this 😭
#neteyam#neteyam x reader#neteyam x human!reader#neteyam x human reader#neteyam x you#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x oc#neteyam sully#neteyam sully x human!reader#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam sully x you#neteyam sully x y/n#neteyam sully x human reader#neteyam sully fluff#avatar twow#avatar#avatar neteyam#avatar x you#avatar x human reader#neteyam fic#neteyam imagine#neteyam blurb#neteyam request
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fuck your inhibition. | k. bakugou
♢ tags ; very big age gaps (19 years), questionable ethics, ex deliquent / runaway reader (22), fighting / violence, brief mentions of living on the streets, retired pro-hero bakugou (41), emotionally charged sex, afab + masc!reader, top!reader, bottom bakugou, reader is really rough around the edges, backstory for reader, arguing, oral (both receiving),rimming (m!recieving), strap-ons (not a dom thing. no particular power dynamics), prone-bone, dirty talk, size difference (reader is smaller but no specifics), happy endings sort of.
no explicitly gendered terms for reader. usage of words like clit / cunt for readers body parts. reader is implied bisexual.
(also while this fic is certainly intended to be read as masc., it can just as easily be read as completely gn.)
♢ wc ; 10.2k (two days. this is so alarming)
♢ a/n ; happy birthday to my favorite guy. sorry in advance. this fic is so disgustingly self-indulgent. str8 self-inserty ngl. i simply dont want to look at it djskfgdf. this fic is pretty tame tho age gap aside. been a while since ive written for him. title is from "lemme know" by vince staples
♢ synopsis ; who knew that the boudoir pictures you've been getting off too your whole life would look so much better in person?
You’re not convinced there’s any way to get used to getting your lights knocked out.
At this point, your fighting prowess is good enough that you can dodge swings from even heavy handed opponents. Just agile enough to bob and weave. Your reflexes are good too, from years of getting into with cops or otherwise. So getting absolutely dusted in a single, swift motion is not a frequent occurrence.
That’s why you are sorely caught off guard when it happens to you in the back of an alleyway, tucked into a corner of Osaka—a long ways from home.
You were fucked from the minute you stepped foot off the train; you knew that instinctively. You haven’t been back in years and it’s not like you’re here for leisure. And sure, you took the job knowing there was some possibility you’d run into some old foes but shit. They couldn’t’ve waited till the week was over?
3 days in and your life as a runaway comes back to bite you in the ass. Worse, they catch in front of the very storefront you were working up the nerve to visit at the end of the week. If that old man catches you 1. making a ruckus in front of his cherished bakery and 2. fighting like those “worthless punks” that he openly detests, he’s definitely gonna be on your ass.
It’s amidst conflict, you decide to take the beating and wait it out. Hopefully, whatever higher power is looking over you will let you get out without busting your lip.
But fuck, this last hit is leaving you worse for wear. You blink your eyes open and you’re still surrounded by him and his bunch of goons. What was this dudes name again…? Aka…Aka-something, you think. Without warning, you get another punch, a clean left-hook - this time to your side. You cough at the sensation.
Ah, life is so unfair to you.
He grabs you by the front of your collar, dragging you upwards until you’re nose to nose. This fuckers breath is hot. Something warm slips down your nose, a rivulet of blood over your lips. You grunt.
“I should’ve beat the shit out of you the first time.”
You blink slowly as you regain your vision and sense. Despite many transgressions and altercations, your time in Osaka as a fugitive is notable. This bunch of fiends are a somewhat half-assed motorbike gang. It’s an old story. You stole and ruined not one, not two, but four of their bikes total. In your defense you were a young kid scrounging for change - hotwiring and deconstructing for parts was always pretty profitable. And stealing flashy bikes was a hell of a lot easier than scratching up your knees in the scrap yard.
Ah, there was that other thing too. Why you’re pretty sure this guy has held such a grudge against you for god knows how long. Irritable with a bad sense of self-preservation, you give up on behaving well.
“Yeah? No need to sulk now, right?” You grin, hands practically itching to throw him onto the ground. A familiar sense of adrenaline burns in your stomach. You should just hit him, but you don’t - instead opting to aim where you know it’s gonna piss him off most “How’s your little sister by the way?”
Red flashes in his eyes, nose puffed like a bull. Despite your self-satisfaction, you close your eyes and pray to god he doesn’t actually kill you. There’s still some ass you have to tap before you die and it’d be a real shame to die only inches away. You cover your face when his fist winds up. Riling him up was probably a bad move.
Before you get your lights punched out forreal, an angel comes to rescue you.
“Oi, you fuckin’ punks—go take this shit somewhere else or I’m gonna singe every last goddamn hair on your head.”
You smile, almost drunk on the adrenaline. An angel, indeed. A cursing, blonde, abrasive angel.
“Oh, shit—we gotta get outta here. That dude Dynamight doesn’t fuck around”
Before you know it, said group of miscreants disperses like a swarm of flies. You find yourself stumbling back against a bunch of crates, back hitting them and sliding down, snagging in your work clothes. The leader says something about “not being finished with you yet,” but you don’t catch it with how your ears are ringing in your skull.
You rub your eyes and groan, seeing double. When you open them again, your favorite blonde old man is standing in front of you. Arms crossed over his chest, sporting that signature glare you’re so fond of.
Your head is throbbing. Fuck it hurts.
You only manage one sentence before promptly blacking out.
“Did I die and go to heaven?”
—
You wake up in a familiar bed.
A bed you spent a lot of time resting in when you were out at on the streets here, something like four years ago now. The memories of the time aren’t entirely pleasant - being a homeless runaway was pretty shit. But meeting your life long hero (and getting your rocks off in his bed) are quite fond regardless. You’re surrounded by nice, white linen sheets that you’re pretty sure cost more than you make in a month. He’s not really much of a flashy character despite his career, but he does have an eye for the finer things.
You haven’t been back here in a while. Since moving to a different prefecture, you haven’t had any good reason to come see him. This week was a good excuse for just that. Didn’t exactly plan on it happening like this, but you can’t really win 'em all. You’d consider being back here a win on your part regardless.
The fact that you’re here instead of molding in the pouring rain means that he dragged you up there by himself. A fact you try not to put too much stock into, because he’s still a pro even if he’s retired. What makes it hard not to feel giddy about it is the fact you’re all cleaned up. Bandaged wounds and all, he even took off your shoes. Jeez, he’s gonna kill you one of these days acting so cute.
You turn to lay on your back, reaching your hand to the ceiling and making a fist. Your knuckles are still pretty bruised up but it’s clear he took some time to check over them. You drop your hand down, squeezing a fist over your chest and sighing. You roll over again.
“Still giving me so many mixed signals.” You say, half in jest, trying not to be too affected by it “Ah, fuck, this is bad. Gonna end up doing something weird just like old times.”
Before you commit another act of degeneracy in the bed of your long time crush and childhood hero, you sit up with your legs over the edge. He took your pants off too, a pair of boxers hung low on your hips. Your back is fucking killing you.
You stand to your feet, scratching the back of your neck as you turn to examine yourself in the mirror. You pull your tank up over your side, a bruise the size of a melon developing on you. It goes from just under your chest all the way down to above your waist. You press your finger to it and wince at the sensation of pain, dull but throbbing so deep in your nerves you can’t help but feel it.
You examine the rest of you, turning to either side. Work tomorrow is gonna fucking blow, but considering you don’t have any broken ribs - you think it’s not the worst it could be. No stitches either, so a win overall. If the rest of the week passed by silently that’d be perfect.
You look around the room for your things. They’re in a neat chair in the corner of the room. Bakugou’s cat is over there too, asleep on your uniform. You can hear something faint from downstairs, the sound of a T.V. playing. You should drop down there since you’re awake but you’re reluctant. You wonder if he’ll chase you out since you’re up. If he still has as much of a soft spot for you as he used to, it couldn’t hurt to test your luck.
You open up the bedroom door and shut it quietly before padding down stairs.
You end up finding him where you’d expect him. He’s in the kitchen with an apron on, a fitted gray shirt with a piping bag in hand.
He looks older every time you see him. His hair isn’t all gray yet but the platinum is starting to turn brilliant white. There’s lines in his face that weren’t always there, even with the scars and fine wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. He’s still as jacked as he used to be, but it’s softened up. Mostly it’s his personality, you find, to be mellow. Only someone with patience could take up such a tedious hobby after an entire life out in the field - killing baddies and chasing thugs and whatever other shit hero’s do.
It’s kind of ridiculous that he’s piping delicate little designs onto some pastries, but unfortunately for you it only adds to his charm. You lean against the wall coming into the kitchen, in the frame. Half-dressed with your lips quirked up in a coy smile.
“Whatcha makin’ old man?”
“Don’t break my concentration you noisy brat,” He says straightforwardly “Sit down and shut up.”
“So cranky,” You muse, but ultimately comply, sitting at a chair on the kitchen island. Looks like he’s on his last round of whatever he’s making.
You get by on staring at him. It’s pretty typical for you even now. Sitting here in front of him doesn’t feel as awkward as you expected, which is worth something. When he’s finally finished, he puts the piping bag on the counter and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.
“Permission to speak, sarge?” You ask, sarcastically. He frowns at you.
“Not granted.”
“Cold as ever huh,” You say, leaning your elbow on the counter - palm on your cheek “Thought distance was supposed to make the heart grow fonder?”
“That only counts if there’s fondness in the first place.” He says with ease. This time you scoff at him, but he cuts you off before you get a chance to reply “You wake up with any pain?”
“Worry about yourself, you old bastard,” You say impudently. You see the corners of his lips twitch as he stares at you “‘m fine. Got a nasty bruise on my side but my ribs aren’t broken. Work tomorrow is gonna suck.”
“That why you’re back here?”
“For about a week, yeah.”
“Confidential?”
You shake your head and lean back.
“Nah. Bodyguarding some rich dude’s kid. Birthday tomorrow. Spent the first two days being a lousy maid but the pay is good so I can’t complain.”
“Shit. The party is tomorrow? I have an order for tomorrow.”
“Guess you’re not senile yet, old man.”
“Fuck off,” Bakugou says, not bothering to hide to his expression “How old’s the kid?
“A little younger than me I’d guess. 19 or so.”
“Isn’t this a good opportunity to get laid?” He suggests like he’s purposefully trying to irritate you. He already knows how you feel. Why he insists on pretending is beyond you but it never fucking fails to piss you off.
You shoot him a glare.
“Nevermind. You’re definitely senile. Might wanna try some puzzle games to keep your shit in tact before you start peeing in public and buying ten pairs of the same pants.”
“You’re still just as mouthy as I remember.”
“Learned from the best.”
A comfortable silence settles as a weird feeling overtakes you. Fuck, you’re still pining your youth away after all this time. Maybe getting laid would fix some of your issues, but no one is gonna hold a candle to having the real thing. You rub your temple in preemptive apprehension. Bakugou starts working on cleaning up the kitchen, and you resign yourself to thinking about what you’re gonna do.
It catches you off-guard when he talks to you first.
“Earlier,” He says, opening up the fridge to rearrange it “Why weren’t you fighting back?”
You don’t know whether you want to laugh or cry hearing him ask. You don’t feel like softening the blow with your usual shit, so you give it to him straight.
“It doesn’t suit a tactical genius to play dumb, old man.”
He stiffens, then sighs.
“Still hung up on that, huh.”
Oh now you’re gonna get pissed.
“Don’t.” You warn, low and indifferent. He sighs, sliding a tray into the fridge and “Don’t piss me off, alright?”
“Hey. You shitty punk. When are you gonna get it through your thick skull I’m doing this for your fucking sake? Stop—”
“Next time, just leave me in the rain.” You seethe, venom in your voice, making you numb and agitated. He stops, breath hitching “I don’t give a shit if you’re a retired hero. I’m serious. Leave me out in the alley next time if you’re gonna pull the mentor act again..”
Man this sucks.
Not like you were expecting some heart warming love story out of a guy like him but still. You didn’t think he wouldn’t budge at all. You can feel yourself getting angry just thinking about it. It might’ve been better not to come. Mentor or not, his whole dismissal never fails to annoy you to your core. You knew that before the week started he might be like this. Maybe if shit went your way - you could’ve had a regular reunion. But now, he just had to see you getting beat up on purpose and he just had to fucking ask about it.
Seriously, where’s his decorum? Prick.
“Kid.”
“Don’t—I needa get outta here. I shouldn’tve—fuck, this blows.”
You stand to your feet before you have a chance to look back. You feel kind of pathetic running away again but it’s still the preferable option to having this fight a second time. It’s something you’re just too sensitive about to deal with head on. Getting rejected twice by the guy you’ve been in love with since you were nineteen is bound to fuck you up abs you don’t have it in you not to drink yourself into a fit.
So you’re practically running up the stairs, but you can hear him calling behind you. You go into the bedroom to get your things and Bakugou follows you into it predictably, shutting the door. You turn around to him, annoyed.
“Get outta my way.”
“No. Not while you’re all pissy. Gonna get yourself hit by a car.”
“What’d I just say about cooling it with the mentor act, man?”
“It’s not a fuckin’—it’s not an act.” He says, with a sigh that almost makes you feel bad, “I haven’t seen you in two years.”
“Two years is nothing. Old age is making you soft,” You scoff, arms crossed over your chest “But I don’t need your sympathy. My feelings haven’t changed.”
“Kid.”
“I’m not a kid anymore, alright? Cleaned my act up, got a job and a license and a place. Haven’t slept in a cell in two years. Been off the streets that whole time just like you told me to do. The least you could do is take me seriously.”
“I didn’t want you to do that shit for me. I wanted you to do it for you.”
“Too bad,” You reply back almost immediately, pinching the bridge of your nose “Save your lecture for the next injured bird you raise up and leave me out of it.”
“I’m trying to put you on the right path, you ungrateful little jackass. Don’t act like—“
“Spare me the goddamn lecture.”
There’s a quiet silence befalls the both of you. Shit is going nowhere fast and you both know it, Bakugou as much as you do. Memories of your last argument come back to you almost instantly.
After you turned eighteen, you were run out of the orphanage you’d spent part of your adolescence at. It’s a pretty regular sob story and you’re quite the sad sap. A dead mom in Mustafu and an absent father. You had a strong quirk, and hell maybe if you grew up different - you could’ve been a hero.
Shit didn’t work out that way, so at 11 you were thrown to the wolves. It’s not a fun time to look back on and you figure there’s no use thinking about the past. You did whatever you had to to survive which mostly meant being in and out of orphanages and running away whenever the next worthless schmuck tried to take advantage of you. You always got away by the skin of your teeth, and made money doing whatever you could. If it put food on the table, you’d have probably done it at least once.
It’s something of a cliche, but Dynamight was your idol. You liked that he wasn’t like other heroes. He was crass and hardcore and liked to talk shit. He was cool. You spent a lot of time hanging around T.V. stores watching him through the glass, watching interviews on your first hand-me-down phone. Even though he didn’t really have the tragic backstory, you always thought he was courageous and honest.
A celebrity crush and idol combined, you stole more of his pin-up magazines than you’re entirely comfortable with. A lot of them you still own, shoved into the back of your closet.
Once you’d turned 18, your life of petty crime had brought you all the way down to Osaka. It was also the worst year of your life. Social agencies seem to get off on tossing kids into the streets as soon as they can and with a criminal record like yours, there wasn’t a whole lot you could do.
You spent the first 6 months knee deep in all sorts of shit. That’s when you ran into that biker gang for the first time. You hung around bars and slept with strangers for a place to sleep. A lot of bad shit happened and it wasn’t getting any easier.
It was a cold, rainy day when you met Dynamight for the first time. The worst day of your life, more accurately. You got mugged and lost your job all in the same few hours and you were pretty sure god himself was spitting at your face.
But it wasn’t all bad. Cheesy as it sounds, meeting your hero was worth the trouble.
He was different off camera. That was the first thing you thought when you talked to him. He had a softer way of speaking and he was weirdly perceptive. He didn’t talk much, either - at least not at first. You spent a lot of time in comfortable silence. The first time, you didn’t do much more than share a meal. He asked you about your life. He gave you money for a hotel too. The only thing you could think to do was ask when you could see him again.
He was 36 at the time. Hadn’t retired yet, either.
That was the beginning of your long relationship. To this day, you don’t know why he decided to involve himself with you. It’s a mystery you’ve yet to get answers for and maybe you never will. Sure he was a hero, but you’re sure he’s seen a lot worse. Why take pity on you in particular? Whenever you ask him about it, he usually just scoffs. Sometimes he’ll tell you that you reminded him of someone. Who that person could be is lost on you even now.
It was a gradual relationship. You were young and persistent, but he never turned you away either. Sure he’d been a good influence, but stopping a life of crime wasn’t easy. You got arrested for some months after meeting. Bakugou took you in when you were 19 and homeless - let you stay with him. He retired at 37, opening up a bakery in Osaka. The place you’re staying in now is just over it. The same one you spent two years of your life falling in love with the old bastard.
It was hard not too. You’d admired him for a long time, and he managed to supercede your low expectations. It wasn’t the first time you fell in love but it was definitely the strongest sensation. You tried to ignore it for a while but that didn’t work out for shit either.
You confessed to him on your 20th birthday. Made a whole big deal with flowers and candles and shit. And again - it’s not like you were expecting romance out of the motherfucker. A flat-out rejection would’ve sufficed.
But…that wasn’t what you got either.
The whole reason for your fight wasn’t just because he didn’t have feelings for you. He made it a whole big fucking deal trying to tell you about your feelings. That you needed to get your shit together and grow up and that it was a phase that you’d grow out of. That he “really cares about you, kid” and that he’s just trying to do what was right by you as an adult.
(“You’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m like either. Been through some tough shit and you latched onto me, alright? So don’t go wastin’ your time.”)
You don’t really give a fuck about how old he is or about his status. None of it matters to you in the slightest. What was pissing you off all that time was him not taking you seriously after everything you’d been through together. Trying to tell you would fucking grow out of it and that it was a waste. You got into an argument after that, and like you’ve been doing your whole life - you ran away. Back to Shizuoka where you started to get your life together.
Hit the books and studied your ass off, graduating late from a night school and then picking up a vocational school to fall back on. Some old connections got you a job in security and you bounced from place to place in the meanwhile. You even got your license and bought a beat-up cruiser that you fix-up when you have the chance.
You grew up so to speak. You came back here trying to prove that. Being dismissed so fucking quickly makes you feel rage beyond reason so you’re trying to step back. Seriously, two fucking years and nothing. Not even a pity “I’m proud of you.”
“Just admit it,” You sneer, inching closer to him “It’s not about any of that shit, is it?”
He widens his eyes as you stalk towards him.
“The fuck are you—“
“Don’t play stupid. You feel guilty, right? Feel all wound up cause you know it’s not nothing. This isn’t nothing”
This time he goes silent. Fucking bullseye.
“You thought I forgot? How you kissed me all tipsy? Thought I didn’t notice you looking?”
Oh it feels good to let it all out. He shrinks, this time unable to say anything. You both know it’s true.
“Look—“ He puts hands on your shoulders as you back him into the wall “You’re too fucking young for all this. And about me, you don’t know—”
You lean into him, face inches apart. You already know what he’s gonna tell you, almost word for word. Trying to maintain some innocence you hardly have anything left of.
“You sure? I heard you through those walls plenty of times. You take dick like a champ.”
“Shut the hell up. This is for your own good, we can’t do this.”
You can hardly believe he’s still being like this.
“I used to know you were home. When I brought people over,” You whisper low against his skin. His eyes widen “You heard me too, I’m sure. So, be honest Mr. Dynamight, you think I can’t give you what you want or are you too afraid to find out?”
“You’re such a fucking punk.” He grits out. Still not denying your words.
“That’s right,” You muse, words heated and heavy “I’m a worthless street punk trying to fuck the old man upstairs ‘cause I don’t know any better.”
It’s not the first time you’ve kissed Bakugou in your life. The first time was when you came over to his place tipsy. In front of all the other pro-heros you had admired so much. It’s different this time. Not only are you both shockingly sober, there’s an aggression in it that wouldn’t be there before. No matter how begrudging he acts, he’s still kissing you back just as hard as you’d expect him too. His lips are softer than you thought they’d be, arms wrapped around your neck. Fuck he’s still so huge. How much does he work out to still be this jacked?
You can’t even imagine how that’s gonna look when you finally get to fuck him. Shit, just thinking about it sends electricity through your spine. You groan a little into his mouth, your hands tucked on his nape and tugging at the fine hairs. You push your incisors into his lower lip and tug, pulling away just slightly to intake how fucking flushed he is.
He looks like a pornstar,
You pull away, hand cupping his jaw and forcing his mouth open. You’re gonna lose it if you stare too long.
“You’re so fucking sexy.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” He mumbles. You laugh lightly at him.
“Your cocky attitude is pretty sexy too,” You hum, amused. You kiss him one more time, hands reaching for the thickest part of his waist. He’s built like a trunk, but his reactions are almost girlish. The contrast is making you twitch.
“Can’t say the same for you.” He spits. Your grin splits your face as you pull away from him, teeth nipping at his jaw. You can feel the scruff of his skin, unshaved as you let your tongue travel over it.
“Aw, what? You don’t think I’m sexy.” You nudge a knee between his legs feeling the half-hard outline of his cock. You shudder “You sure about that?”
“What the hell are they feeding brats like you?”
“Liquor and cigarettes.”
“Since when do you smoke?”
“Helps me relax after work,” You whisper against the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the lobe before “I get pretty stressed out. Sure you know something about that.”
“Hngh, fuck. Fuck you.”
“Do you even know how? Not like that thing gets much use, huh?”
You reach down to cup his cock through his jeans, hard against the palm of your hand. He pushes his hips up slightly, sharpened glare. He pants.
“You sound, shit, so fucking sure.”
“I am sure. I’m looking to fuck you, not the other way around. Not sure how that’s gonna work since I don’t got my stuff on me.”
You’re not sure what you’re expecting him to say. This whole thing is feeling like a fever dream you can’t wake up out of. Maybe he’ll give you a suggestion on what else to do.. But instead of that, a blush crawls onto his face. It leaves you floored. He looks away from you.
“...Your shits still where you left it.”
It takes you a second to register what he means. When you do, you can feel your brows hit your fucking hairline. There’s no way he’s saying what you think he is.
“You’re shitting me.”
“Shut the fuck up. I thought you’d come to pick it back up but you never did, and I went to go move it into some boxes. I didn’t have any reason to toss it.”
A thought crosses into your mind.
“Hey. Old man. Where is it?”
He stares at you. You grasp onto him firmer, making him gasp. You can feel how heavy his cock is in your hands, rubbing it through the cloth of his sweats. You whisper harsh into his ears.
“If I open your goddamn drawer right now, tell me, am I gonna find my old strap in it? Clean and getting use? You been fucking yourself with the thing I used to lay dick with?”
When he doesn’t answer, pure glee ignites in you. He can’t answer, apparently. But his face is a harsh, permanent red now and his cock is painfully hard. You want to rail him into the fucking floor just for that. You wouldn’t make up some shit like that in your wildest dreams, so the fact that he’s not denying it makes your insides feel like they’re melting. You rub yourself against him, feeling how slick and hard your clit is just thinking about it.
“Go lay down.”
“Are you telling me what to do?”
You grab his ass as hard as you can before landing a hit on it that makes him nearly topple over. Even though he’s bigger than you in more ways than one, he reacts like that. His anger only lasts so long before it morphs into want.
“Of course I am. And you’re gonna listen.”
“What makes you so sure about that, huh? You think you can satisfy me?”
“You think you’re gonna intimidate me into backing down? After knowing you fuck your tight little ass to the thought of me? Fat chance.”
“I didn’t say anything like that.”
You laugh “You implied it. Now go lay down. Where’s your lube?”
He frowns at you.
“In the same drawer.”
You give him a knowing grin to which he shoves your face away. Ultimately though he listens to you, lying and making himself comfortable in the sheet as you grab whatevers in his little sex drawer. He wasn’t kidding about the strap, the lube seated next to it. You grab both quickly and join him, hovering over him.
You opt not to talk, slowing your pace to appreciate the view. You think he’s says something. Asks about what you’re doing and why - but you tune the words out as you run your hands over the curves of his body. He’s a wall of fucking muscle, his arms especially with a torso just tight enough for you to grab. The fabric of his shirt doesn’t leave much for imagination, but you’re still overwhelmed as you pull it up over his waist, his chest, his arms. The fabric comes loose and it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. You’ve got plenty of porn mags in your back pocket and even more boudoir shoots from him that you’ve stared at for hours.
But seeing it in person is completely different. You can see the rise and fall of his chest - the raised skin of a scar and plenty of over scratches and wounds. Fuck, he is so sexy and you are so drunk on lust you almost feel sick.
“Somethin’ catch your eye?”
His voice draws you out of the trance you're in, a lazy smirk spread on his face. You laugh.
“I get why you’re such a show-off,” This time you lean forward to kiss him - a hand wrapped around his throat, spare going to grab his chest. His tits are soft, they look like hard muscle and sinew but the fat is squished in your palms to perfectly for that“Fuck.”
“You’re acting like a horny teenager.” He says flatly.
“Been thinking about fucking you that long, so I guess so.”
“Are you serious?”
“Why’re you so shocked?” You make work kissing down his neck slowly, down his chest, one tweaking his nipple while your mouth makes work on the other one He swears above you, another wave of heat pulsing in your body “Don’t you hear shit like that all the time?”
“Shit that feels—I didn’t think you were, hngh—serious.”
“Obviously not. I still have all your slutty ass photos in my apartment somewhere.”
He pants. Makes the prettiest fucking sounds for you as you grope and squeeze and touch his body. You bite, hard, into his tits leaving a red mark of teeth that makes him shudder. You need to do it all over again.
“Haah, fuck. What the fuck?”
“You’re way sexier in person if that’s worth anything,” You groan, a shudder passing through you “Like way sexier.”
He looks like he wants to say something to you but the words die in his mouth. You laugh as you peer over him. His reactions are fucking adorable. Face is hot with a flush, watery eyes. Pretty. As much he’s rugged and strong and downright handsome, he is annoyingly fucking pretty. Having him underneath you is making all the power go to your head. Nothing feels more appealing to you right now than the idea of wrecking him completely.
You kiss down his body until you’re at his waist, taking his pants off unceremoniously. You have half a mind to rip them but you’re sure they’re expensive. He lifts his legs for you anyways, leaving a tight pair of boxers that leave nothing for the imagination at all.
“What the fuck,” You mumble, getting face to face with it. You pull the boxers off slowly, kissing his hip as you do. His cock pops out slowly as you pull it down. What an asshole. His dick is impossibly big too. A tuft of well trimmed blonde hairs sit neat at the base and the tip is a harsh red. There’s a little drop of pre-cum dribbling down the shaft that makes your brain feel fuzzy. It’s veiny too, tight balls sitting net at the base.
Another shiver wracks through you, as you reach your hand out to touch it tentatively. He groans sharply. You stick your tongue out, licking up from base to tip. He tastes of salt and skin, but it isn’t bad. You let your tongue lick at the slit, elated looking at him squirm underneath you.
“Nice dick.” You say back plainly. He snorts.
“Fuck off.”
‘’m serious,” You add, letting your eyes lid to look more serious “I don’t blow just anyone.”
You open your mouth wide, pulling lips over teeth as you ease the tip slowly. It’s hot. Hard as steel and intrusive against your tongue, you can feel it throb. Pulsing relentlessly, you lower yourself onto it slowly - taking as much in as you can. It’s difficult and messy, tongue out to cover as much as you can. You suction your mouth slowly, hollowing your cheeks. There’s something that feels so good about having him in your mouth, something even better about watching the faces of pleasure he makes above you.
You hum in appreciation and the vibrations prove to be too much as he nearly thrusts his dick into your throat. You brace yourself for it happening again - setting an even pace. He looks good like that, drowned in pleasure and unsure of what to do with himself. You wonder if it’s been a while since he’s acting so fucking cute about it. You assume as much.
What he said before, you wonder if he was picturing it. If he felt guilty about it. The idea of him jerking off in shame over the thought of his dick in your mouth makes your spine tingle. You cup his balls in your hand, squeezing gently as you get into a steady rhythm. You feel him above you trying to hold it all in, the muscles in his abdomen tightening each time you manage to get down further. It’s hard to breathe, the back of your throat feels narrow. Your skin is on fire.
“Fuck, fuck—where’d you learn how to—fuck!”
You feel him getting ready to cum, so you pull off swiftly. A delicious, needy whine comes out of his throat that leaves you mesmerized.
“What the hell?” He mumbles, heaving. You laugh.
“Hey,” You hum, lifting his hips until you can see his hole - pink and twitching “Every had someone eat your ass?”
“Are you offering?”
“Yeah.” You say back, kissing the insides of his thighs, gripping the muscle “I wanna know if it feels good for you.”
For whatever reason, this statement in particular makes his skin tinge pink. You hold back a laugh internally.
“So fucking weird.”
“Is that a no?”
“Do whatever you want.”
You chuckle at that. You sink your teeth into him again, this time working on the build up. His muscles give tension to your incessant biting, hard bone against muscle as you mark up his thick thighs. His ass is nice like you’d expect, tight and muscular. You work your way towards his hole slowly, thumb circling the tight ring of muscle first to gauge his reaction. He shudders, making you hold back a laugh.
“Kinda sensitive,” You say amused. You can feel him glaring without having to look “You can’t cum without it now, right?”
You’re mostly saying it in jest but the prolonged silence leaves you at a loss for words. Your eyes snap up at him, watching him huff and puff in embarrassment. Heat rolls through your body.
“It’s not like I fucking can’t ever, alright?”
“You’re too cute for your own good.”
“Don’t fucking call me cute you shitty little brat.”
“But you’re acting kinda adorable, old man,” You say slyly. You stick your tongue out, licking a long stripe against him. He shakes “Blushing up a fucking storm. Been a while?”
“Not really.”
“Oh, so it’s just ‘cause it’s me then?”
He looks like a fucking cherry. You laugh.
“To think you were so against it. How’d you hide your expressions that long? Did it help you to masturbate to the thought of me fucking you?”
“Would you shut up?”
“I don’t feel like it.”
Before he can scold you any more, you let your tongue slip against the exposed rim. The reaction is tentative at first, slow licks trying to gauge if this is something he’s even into. You do it again and again, burying yourself deep. He makes a noise that you recognize to be a muffled moan. You groan in appreciation, repeating the action - letting yourself dip into the tightness of it. You can feel the muscles of his body go taut as you grip him - hands over the tops of his thighs. The action is more shameless the longer you let yourself indulge.
You’ll have to fuck him open anyways before you actually get on top. You think doing this much will make everything easier. Mostly you’re doing it because you like seeing him embarrassed. The gap in appearance vs expression never gets old. Seeing like this repeatedly proves to be novel and fuck knows if he’s gonna let you do it again any time soon. You’re more than determined to squeeze out every last ounce of his pride.
You want to see everything.
And frankly, pleasuring him like this is driving you all kinds of crazy. Not like you’ve ever been a selfish lover. Always aiming to please or whatever. But he’s got such a raw fucking sex appeal looking the way he does it’s making you drip. You’re pretty damn sure you’ve soaked through everything you have on and you’re not sure how much longer you’re gonna make it without touching yourself.
It’s all material you’re committing to memory, either way. If anyone saw him like this, you’re pretty sure they’d fall head over heels just like you. It’s hard not to give him everything he’s ever wanted Not to want to fuck him within an inch of his life, just to see his big muscular frame curl in on itself. He’d look so good all messed up, all knotted with pleasure.
You can feel it again this time, another wave of desire that makes his cock twitch. You wrap your finger around the shaft, holding it around his balls so he doesn’t cum without asking you. He lets out a noise of disapproval that you ignore, pulling your mouth away. Pre-cum dribbles out of tip. You use your finger to swipe it up and lick it.
He looks scandalized.
“Not bad. You eat clean huh.”
“You’re going to kill me someday.”
“You’re too young and too healthy to die.”
He makes a face of disapproval at you. You toss him the lube before grabbing the strap.
“Think you can work yourself open for me tough guy? Normally, I’d do it myself. Edge you out nice and slow, get you all soft. But I’m dying to fuck you already and I wanna make you cum on my cock.”
He looks at you exasperated.
“Where’d you learn to talk like that?”
“Casual sex and porn mags. You don’t like it?”
“It makes you sound your age.”
“Want me a little more suave? Tell you that I’m gonna make love to you?”
He snorts. You take off your boxers and sit up on your knees as Bakugou opens the lube in his hands. You watch him idly, mostly focusing on wiggling yourself in the harness and making sure it’s comfortable enough to fuck in.
He takes a deep breath, and you watch him reach between his legs. How it’s difficult since he’s so muscular. You almost want to help him, but instead you get between his legs again. Stood on your knees with a heavy bit of silicone weighing you down. You connect the tip to his, watching him push a finger in slowly.
“Not if you say it like that.”
“Having trouble there?”
“You piece of shit.”
“A worthless punk or something. C’mon, just say it. Ask me to finger your ass so I can fuck you. Or you want me to say something more delicate?”
“Fuck, c’mon just, help me already.”
“What’s the magic word?”
“....Please, you worthless asshole.”
You grin, grabbing the lube from the bed and squeezing it into your fingers. You laugh, leaning over him.
“Got some manners left in you after everything, huh?”
You pull him down towards him by the waist, pulling his legs up. You kiss the inside of his knees, nudging his legs apart as you position your hands, warming the lube between your fingers. He’s surprised by your strength, but you don’t do anything but grin.
“Keep your legs up for me, yeah?”
He scoffs but doesn’t go against your will. He looks good waiting for you like that, so you don’t take too much time trying to split him open. His hands are thicker than yours, so your first finger slides in like it’s nothing. He’s soft and hot on the inside, and the way he accommodates you lets you know this isn’t the first time he’s done this.
It doesn’t irritate you as much as you think it should. Maybe you’re a little screwed up to think it’s sexy but the idea of him getting fucked at any point is turn on. Once you’re down to the knuckle and you can pump in and out of him easily, you use a second finger to stretch him further. There’s more resistance so you slow, feeling up against his walls for the place you know it’ll feel good.
You know you find it because his whole body tightens up in front of you. His eyes shoot open and he’s all breathy and fucked out. You relish in it.
“Right there?”
He must be feeling good with how little he’s combating you.
“Y-yeah.”
You lean forward to plant a kiss on him again but this time it’s tender. He must feel really good because he wraps his arms around your neck to keep you there. You moan in surprise and when you pull back he looks hazed out of his mind.
“Didn’t know you could make a face like that.” You say, amused. He frowns at you.
“I’m not happy about it either.”
A laugh falls out of you and you catch the faintest whisper of a smile on his lips that has you kissing the corners of his mouth. He catches himself before he leans into it too easily, but you notice before he can shy away.
“Looks like I’m making your heart flutter. Forget the ethics for a little and let me.”
“I should toss you out of a fucking window.”
“You’re not gonna though.”
This he doesn’t reply to. You slip a third finger while he’s distracted and he gasps. This time he’s almost stretched completely. You give him a minute to breathe, swallowing up the little sounds he makes with a hearty grin. It’s so fucking good just doing this. Incredible. Way better than you could’ve ever imagined.
“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you,” You say, bemused. He’s delirious enough to laugh.
“The stamina of youths scares the hell outta me.”
“I don’t wanna hear it from a retired pro.”
This time he grins. You find yourself pleased with the development.
He’s stretched now, and restless. You pull your hand away and rub the remaining slick onto the tip of your cock, giving him a look.
“Do you know how you want me?”
“It’s your fantasy fuck,” He says, semi-sarcastically “Do whatever you want.”
You laugh, tapping his ass lightly.
“Turn over and stick your ass up a little.”
“Don’t wanna see my face?”
“Wanna see how you swallow my cock up like it’s nothing, more like.”
He curses under his breath. You feel accomplished. He turns over just like you’ve asked him too and fuck the sight of him is way too much. You can’t get over it. He’s big and strong and trembling with desire and it’s driving your sex-drive as high as it can possibly go. You move so your knees are on either side of his thighs. Leaning forward, you lick up from the small of his spine all the way up his shoulder, before sinking your teeth in the junction in between.
He groans underneath you, and your hands make themself present around his hips. Most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The fucking arch and the scars and the ruggedness of all of it.
“You’re damn gorgeous.” You say, with utter and sincere appreciation “It’s driving me fucking crazy.”
“Save your smooth talk.”
“I’m bein’ serious,” You say, pulling his ass apart with your palms “Like. Woah.”
He snorts “Real poetic.”
“I barely graduated school, asshat.”
In the midst of your bantering, you let the tip of your cock slip into him slowly. It steals the words of reply out of his mouth in an instant. You can feel him melt underneath you. At the intrusion, at the feeling. At every single sensation. You feel the phantom of it in your spine. Like there’s fireworks in all your nerve-endings, just watching how his ass looks around it. Just the tip with no movement, no adjusting.
He’s silent, shuddering - holding onto a pillow. A bead of sweat rolls down his spine. He has little dimples in his back. You groan.
“Shit. Look at you.”
The praise seems to make him keen. He’s always been one to like the attention. You roll your hips, fucking another inch into him agonizingly slow. He moans like he’s deflating, breathing ragged and voice raw. You rock back and forth until there’s no longer anything to resist, then push in and in and in.
Once you bottom out with his ass against your pelvis and your hips on the back of his thighs, you lean forward and press your weight on top of him. You think he’s expecting something else, because he seems surprised. But you let yourself weigh upon him, then with a heavy grunt - cup his jaw and tilt his head to kiss him.
“You like that?”
“Shut up.”
“C’mon. Be honest. You look like you like it. Ears turning so red.”
He groans.
“In your fucking dreams.”
“Still not gonna budge huh?” You say. anchoring yourself at his sides with a deep sigh “So stubborn.”
When you feel stable enough to move, you don’t hesitate to fuck him with all of the expertise you have. You give it to him in just the right way, measure up to where he needs you but don’t give in quite enough. It’s a strenuous affair but you keep it at. A steady pace that’s hard and deep but not good enough to make him cum. Something to leave him on the edge, you fuck him just like that. The sound of skin hitting skin and short, broken moans echo in the room.
You focus on taking him like that, making sure each and every thrust is precise and calculated until he gets where you want him to be. You can practically feel when it’s starting to really get to him. When he can no longer hold himself up, so resigns to smushing his face against the pillow and going limp. You lean up, moving so you can pull his hips back with you - hovering off the bed on his knees instead of laying on his stomach.
This time you reach deeper. His whining gets louder, more in tune with everything. You laugh as you reach around him, hands gripping at the base of his cock. It takes patience to unravel him like this, matching your hands to your movements until everything is in a slow, steady synchronization. Fast but not fast enough. Hard, but not hard enough. Close but not close enough.
He lets out a heady groan that reverberates in his chest, opening his mouth finally.
“C-c’mon. Just. C’mon.”
“Aw what?” You say, rolling your hips up against him, where you know he wants you most “What is it, hm? Did you want something?”
“Fuck. Just. Fuck me already.”
“I am fucking you, though?”
“You know what I mean!”
“Oh, you want me to fuck you harder? Make you cum? I thought you didn’t like it.”
He groans, dropping against the pillows again.
“I didn’t say that. C’mon just. Please.”
His voice is hoarse when he asks. You laugh against his shoulders, listening to his requests. Giving it to him how he needs it. Harder and a little deeper, you can feel it now. How you knock into the place inside him that leaves him trembling and shaking. You can read his cues now, when he starts getting close. But of course it’s not gonna be that easy.
You keep the pace stand, putting your hand on the tip of his cock. You rub your thumb over the slit and hold it there. He sucks in a breath, whining a little.
“Wanna cum so bad?” You offer, mouth twisted in a feral grin “Tell me you love me.”
This knocks the wind out of him.
“What?”
“Say you love me with all your heart and I’ll let you cum.”
“You’ve got to be fucking with me.”
You fuck into him hard right where he needs you. He moans.
“Nah. My fantasy fuck, remember? Right now, we’re playing love birds.’ Like’ works too, I guess. If you’re too scared,” You half-way mock, starting a pace now that borders cruel “Now say it nice and sweet and I’ll let you cum.”
“You’re such a—agh, fuck,” He shudders against the bedsheets, repeating himself as you pound him. It’s easy to piston your hips. He’s so sensitive to begin with that it doesn’t take much “You’re insane.”
“C’mon, old man. Confess your feelings to me like we’re sweethearts.”
“In your dr—oh, shit.”
“What was’at? Did you wanna say something?”
You can practically feel him turn it over in his head. You’re mostly doing it to mess with him. Punishment for all of his beating around the bush and bullshitting. Getting to fuck him has been more than enough.
So you’re not expecting him to stop you. To turn over flat on his back and lay with his legs spread and wrap his arms around your waist and stare at you through hazy, flushed eyes. This time you’re really looking at him. At the lines on his face and the scruff and an expression torn with time and desire and lust. Your heart nearly falls out of your fucking ass when he wraps his arms around your neck, palming your nape and pushing your foreheads together.
When you’re nose to nose, he looks very serious all of a sudden. You swallow something in your throat, unsure of what else to do.
“Gonna say this one fucking time, only. So listen up cause I’m not gonna repeat myself.”
He’s got to be fucking with you.
“Love you..I love you or whatever. But that doesn’t mean—”
Before he can finish his sentence, you put your hands up under his knees and fuck him for all you’ve got. Half-way as revenge for the shitty confession and half-way because if you think too long about what he’s saying you’re pretty sure you’re going to collapse.
He sounds good under you, as you fist his cock and laugh in absolute fucking delight. You stare at him hard. At his fucked out expression. You’re gonna cuss him out as soon as this shit is over, you swear. What an asshole.
“O-oh, oh fuck, I’m gonna, g-gonna cum.”
You goad him cause you aren’t sure what else you should do at this point.
“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock? Show it to me. Let me see what you look like.”
The words are enough to push him over the edge. He gets unraveled right before your eyes, his whole body pulled like a bow before losing all the tension. You can feel his cock twitching hotly in your palms. Thick strings of white covering your fingers as you fuck him through it. He sounds so perfect like that, so fucking good for you. You can feel your whole body ready to give out just watching.
When Bakugou finally finishes, he releases you from his grip. You pull out only seconds after, staring at his flushed state in wide-eyed disbelief.
“Were you serious?” You ask, because it’s the only thing you can think to ask. He sighs, tired.
“Yeah.”
Where the hell is this dudes class?
“Fuck.”
He laughs, laid down before poking his head back up to stare at you.
“You didn’t cum yet.” It’s more of a statement than a question. You shake your head.
“Not yet. I can take care of it.”
He clicks his teeth.
“No way. Come ‘ere.”
You undo the harness of your strap before crawling over to where he’s laid. You end up standing on your knees. He props himself up on his elbows, and you look down at him absolutely mesmerized. He crinkles his nose at you.
“That fucking lovesick look on your face is gross.”
“Been like this for four years.”
He flushes.
You stand in front of him, bare on your knees. He reaches forward, brushing the hair over the hood of your clit gently.
“You’re so wet.” He murmurs. You laugh.
“Yeah, no shit.” You say, too tired to do much arguing “Lemme borrow your mouth,”
He snorts “Got it.”
You fist your hands into his hair and tug, bringing his open mouth to your clit with a sigh. Your cunts sort from being pushed into and neglected. Even the barest brush of his mouth is making you shiver. Bakugou must know a little something about this, because he latches onto you without thinking twice. The sudden added pressure has heat building your stomach at the speed of light. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so on edge in such a short period of time.
Plus looking down at him while you hump against his face is enthralling.
“You’d make a cute little wife, old man,” You say thoughtfully, dull pleasure aching as you tuf his hair at the root “You can cook, clean, bake and you know how to use your mouth fucking perfectly.”
He gives you a look of exasperation, but the warmth down his neck tells you he likes it. You laugh, throwing your head back. The visible sight of arousal flowing down his chin and making his face messy is making you more horny than you know what to do with. You don’t have the energy to cum more than once but you’re sure when you wake you you’re gonna be horny all over again.
You try not to think too hard about it as you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter before unraveling all at once. Your insides are hotter than lava, the entire lower half convulsing as the strength in your thighs and legs gets lost gradually. Bakugou sucks until you’re nearly overstimulated, and you have to pull him away before it really gets to be too much for you.
“You taste good.” He says thoughtfully. You laugh.
“Got plenty more if you want it.”
“We should clean up.”
“You’re not kicking me out?”
“I’m not a villain, damn it.”
“You feel like one for that loser ass confession, but I’ll let it slide. I need a fucking nap though. Getting my ass kicked and having incredible sex in the same day is exhausting.”
He laughs as you lay down besides him, sitting up. Even in your half exhausted state, you catch the feeling of his lips on your forehead.
“Get some rest you brat.”
__
You wake up in a familiar bed.
If the sore feeling of laying pipe wasn’t in your hips, you’re pretty damn sure you just woke up out of a dream. What the fuck just happened to you? Your back and body is sore, but you’re clean like you’ve been wiped down. You’re stark naked though.
The idea that he could give you a wipe but not dress you makes you laugh. When you sit up, all of your clothes are sitting still on a chair. There’s some new clothes on top of them though, his clothes. You stand to your feet, your back cracking as loud as possible as you examine the wounds. You have some hickies now (when the hell did he leave those) and when you turn there’s some scratches on your back. You feel self-satisfaction as you get dressed. You should hit the showers when you feel less lethargic.
When you’ve reconciled with the fact you didn’t just conjure up what happened a few hours ago, you trek back into the living room. You find Bakugou where you expect him, bent over the stove making dinner. You lean on the frame of the door with a grin before walking over to him.
You don’t hesitate in sliding your hands on his waist under his tank top. Better, he doesn’t react like you’ve shot him dead. A laugh blooms in your chest.
“Morning grandpa.”
“You fucking—if you don’t sit down.”
You snort, but sit yourself down at the counter like you did a few hours ago.
“Whatcha making for dinner.”
“Grilled fish and rice. There’s sides.”
“Sounds healthy.”
His ears turn red.
‘“You have work tomorrow but you need to recover.”
You couldn’t smile more if you fucking tried.
“We gonna talk about what just happened,” You ask, pouring yourself a glass of water as you sit down. You take a long sip “Or are you gonna pretend to keep washing rice?”
He sighs, putting down the dry rice and the cup to measure. He almost looks furious, but he’s too cute for it to mean anything to you. You grin.
“Hey. Fucking. Look. Alright. You’re way too fucking young. I’m old enough to be your father a-and you only just barely got your life together, so yes I told you whatever I told you. But no fucking funny business until you’re at least 25 and your brain is developed more than a peanut.”
You nod..
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda a coward old man?” You say thoughtfully. He looks pissed again but it’s too funny for you to care “What’s funny business? Sex? Cause if it is, I’ve got bad news.”
“We just. We have to be careful.”
“So I can kiss, hug, fuck you in private but keep it outta the press?”
He stares at you, scratching his neck. “Yeah. Basically.”
You give him a thumbs up, grabbing a snack off the tray on his table. Chips, the fancy kind. They’re good.
“Got it. Can I stay over? I don’t feel like driving down to my hotel this late.”
“....You’re not pissed?”
You laugh.
“Are you kidding? I wasn’t mad the first time cause you rejected me, I was mad cause you were acting all fucking ethical and holier-than-thou. I figured it was gonna be something like that anyway. And I’m not much of a romantic, so dates and shit are whatever to me,”
“Forreal?”
“Yeah. Having sex and staying over to hang out for a while is cool. It was your fat head worrying about it, not mine. Did Mr. Deku managed to talk you out of your crisis while I was asleep?”
He gives you a look. Bullseye again.
“You two keep in touch?”
“He’s a good dude and he buys me a meal when I’m short on change. Jealous?”
He turns away from you before answering. His ears are burning. You feel your heart squeeze.
What shit taste you’ve got being head over heels for this old bastard, you wonder.
“Just shut up and eat your chips.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”
#bakugou x reader#bakugou smut#bnha x reader#bnha smut#writing tag#age gap cw#the craziest part of this is me reading this back and thinking. oh man. i could make this so much longer#im tainted beyond repair#the fact this is ONLY 10k is quite literally a miracle
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✨Pairing✨: mechanic!Ari Levinsonxblack!reader
Summary🪄: Brynn has her first bout of stage fright (Operation: Rekindle addition)
⚠️: 18+ NO MINORS!, oral (male receiving, allusion to female receiving), allusions to happy adult fun times (please make sure willies are wrapped, there’s peeing after sex, and everyone is being safe), partial bad language word, pretty much all teeth rotting fluff💕
*DISCLAIMER!: although visual was made by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*
“Aliana Marie Y/L/N-Levinson, you need to put on clothes!”
The three-year-old only giggles as you chase her around the small living room - expertly dodging scattered toys along the way
Her sister Brynn just watching the whole ordeal from her booster seat while she finally ate her Mac and cheese. Short giggles coming from her as well enjoying her little dinner show
Eventually scooping her in your arms, you carry your wiggly daughter back to the couch where her clothes lay trying yet again to get her dressed
“Come on, we’ll go get milkshakes,” you sweetly try to bargain as she rolls and moves her arms so you can’t put on her shirt
“No!,” she replies giggling once again as you sigh completely exhausted. So far you’d been at this for almost an hour - on top of getting dinner ready and then giving the twins a bath. Not to mention doing Brynn’s hair in what had to be a perfect top knot according to the instructions from her ballet teacher.
Overall, you felt like you’d been going all day
Hearing the click of the lock and soft rattle of the doorknob tells you of Ari’s arrival before he makes his entrance with a deep but pleasant, “hello!” Both girls immediately squeal in excitement turning their attention to their father with an equally joyful, “hi daddy!”
He makes his rounds sweetly kissing Brynn’s forehead then Ali’s and ending with a soft peck on your cheek
An interaction much too short for your liking
“What’s uh going on here?,” he asks with an amused tilt to his lips seeing a half naked Ali in only her pull up, one sock on her foot, and hair unruly
“Your daughter apparently wants to be a nudist. She won’t put her clothes on.”
His large hands fall to his hips as he tsks in faux disappointment. “Now Aliana..”
“Hi daddy,” she giggles with her little fingers in her mouth peering up to Ari who looks the size of a tower from where she lay
“We gotta get dressed sweetpea. You don’t wanna get left do you?”
After a few seconds, she lifts her arms in the air as if surrendering herself to the larger man making you playfully narrow your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Such a daddy’s girl.”
Chuckling, Ari squats down placing a hand on Ali’s tummy lightly tickling his little girl while also securing her to the couch. “Can’t say I blame you on the clothes rebellion though.”
“Well since you’re the favorite right now, mind getting her dressed? I’ll try to do her hair after I get ready or I’ll just have to do it there.”
“I’ll take care of it, you go ahead,” he motions his head towards your bedroom
“Thank you!” Ari knows he shouldn’t let your simple touch excite him, but it’s like a memorized response how his muscle warms and pleasantly tingles from your hand on his upper arm. Not to mention the little swell of his chest knowing he put that relieved smile on your lips
“Promise I won’t be long,” you state over your shoulder flitting from Brynn - to clean her face and release her from the booster seat - then to your room to finish whatever you needed to do
The whole time Ari lovingly watching you with that soft smile only the slightest mention of your name could envoke
That is until Aliana’s impatient kicks snap him out of his short lived trance. “Hey don’t you start, you could’ve been dressed by now had you not been difficult for mommy,” he replies only making her giggle more as he pulls her little dark jeans over her legs
-
Luckily you weren’t too late when your clan finally arrived at the dance studio. Ari took care of finding two seats near your families while you hurried backstage to get Brynn lined up with the rest of her class - of course making sure to get a few pictures and steal a few kisses before joining the rest of the parents in the waiting crowd
The once plain and neutral auditorium now sparkled with white and blue string lights - some in the shape of snowflakes both medium and small - along the walls. A couple frosted trees sat on either side of the front steps leading to the stage with piles of glittery, snowlike fabric underneath
And to wrap the winter wonderland together, plastic icicles hanging over the stage as if dripping from the small curtain at the top
It seemed everyone else was just as impressed as you, from the pleased murmurs and pointing
“Good evening all!,” the tall, slender woman greeted with a model-like smile. Her onyx hair tied back in a neat bun made her appear as if she was a dancer herself standing under the spotlights in her grey sweater dress and black heels
“I’m Miss Holli, the co-owner of this studio and head instructor, and I’d like to welcome all of you to our Winter Showcase!” The crowd erupts in a round of applause, slowly coming to a hush as Ms. Holli begins to speak again.
“We’ll be having a total of three performances tonight starting with our tiny tots and little kids, then our pre-teens, and finally ending with our older teens and young adults. Now we understand if you have to leave after your child’s performance, especially our little ones with stricter bedtimes...” The crowd - mostly those with said little ones including you and Ari - lightly chuckled at that. “But we hope you can stay and see what all our kids have been working on and practicing so hard for.”
“Now without further ado, our tiniest ones with Snowflakes in Freefall!”
You, Ari, and both of your families perk up in your seats watching Brynn’s class pad onto the wooden stage and to their marks with the help of their two instructors. You try to wave in order to get her attention, but she just stares straight ahead. Even Ali excitedly shouts “Ben!,” - she was still getting the hang of pronouncing Brynn - while standing on her father’s thighs at the sight of her sister.
Still she stares forward, and as the music begins to play - leading up to the note where she’s supposed to start her dance - you realize her staring isn’t due to focus
Brynn stays on her mark and even at her teacher’s beckoning, she doesn’t move
“What’s going on?,” Ari’s mom, Celia, asks in a whisper leaning in close behind you
“I’m not sure. She knows her dance and was excited all day today.”
Without a word, Ari hands Ali to you before carefully moving through the aisle to head towards the steps leading to backstage. There he meets a pouting Brynn sniffling trying to stop her tears as one of her teachers consoles her and the other tries to explain to the crowd how they just need a few extra minutes, and asks the stagehands to close the curtains
“I think it’s just nerves, but she won’t talk to me,” the younger of her two teachers explains to Ari as he kneels down to join them
“I’ll try to figure it out, thanks,” he smiles before the bubbly redhead rejoins the rest of the class. “Hey, what’s wrong honeybee?”
“People…lots,” she whispers wiping at her right eye
“Yea, it is a big crowd huh?” She nods. Definitely bigger than the few parents watching from behind the glass that she was used to. “I know it’s scary, but everything’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna do great.”
She still seems unsure wiping at her eye again and not making any attempt to move back on stage. “Wanna stay wit you.”
Ari sighs being careful of the light glitter makeup on her cheeks as he wipes the watery line below her eye. “I wanna stay too, but I can’t B.” Her disappointed pout cuts him deep enough that he’s ready and willing to leave now. To take his babygirl wherever she wanted to go and get an extra large strawberry milkshake on the way to make her smile again
But he knows he can’t. This was just the first in a lifelong line of things she’d have to conquer on her own. He couldn’t whisk her away every time she was afraid - although that protectiveness instinct screamed at him to do so
Though, that didn’t mean he couldn’t help at all
“Mr. Levinson?,” the redhead nervously returns, “I don’t mean to rush, but we have to get going. Will Brynn be able to go on with us?”
An idea - albeit a humiliating and potentially dumb one - sparks in his mind briefly turning towards her teacher. “She’s still nervous but I think I know what can help. If it’ll be okay that is?”
-
After 10 minutes and a short announcement from the head instructor, the lights dim and curtains reopen to Brynn front and center again with her classmates behind her. She seems a bit happier this time posed on her mark making you relieved that Ari could help
When he finally descends the short steps from backstage, your brow tilts in confusion watching him stop adjacent to the stage now only in his dark brown and white flannel, his jeans, and white socks on his feet. Additionally, posed just like Brynn
“Daddy,” Aliana points seated in your lap
“Yea, what’s daddy doing?”
The soft, playful music begins again and on cue Brynn starts her dance just as she’s practiced for all these months with Ari perfectly following along to every movement as well
Light giggles and chuckles could be heard among the crowd - and your families - getting a kick out of this giant of a man dancing along with a group of kids. From as many times as he sat at her rehearsals, you shouldn’t be surprised he knew every step yet here you were with bright eyes admiring the father of your children
A familiar warmth blooming over your body that you’ve tried to push away so many times, but ultimately couldn’t still being so deeply in love
When the final note plays, the kids and Ari stand in their final pose receiving applause and standing ovations. A wide smile on Brynn’s lips as she waves to her dad and an equally big smile on his as he winks at her
And when he somehow finds your eyes amid all those around - his cheeks a light pink as he gives a small wave - you forgo trying to ignore those feelings anymore. Fully letting them take control let it be for better or worse
-
It was a tad shameful how quick you were on him after you both put the girls to bed. Your lips immediately finding his as soon as he closed the door to their room, turning to tell you goodnight
You didn’t care though letting yourself get lost in the pillowy softness of his pink lips and his tongue on yours while your body pressed even closer into his. Your sudden need for him was surprising to Ari, but how could he focus on questions - or even thinking at all - with your hands roaming his firm chest and traveling lower to the buckle of his jeans. A small “oof” leaving his mouth as you lightly pushed him down to what used to be your shared bed after pulling his boxers down enough to release what was hidden beneath
Now on your knees between his legs, time is a foreign concept letting his pleasurable grunts and moans fill your heated ears until his release eventually coats your throat. Even then your slurping and bobbing continues, ignoring the burning in your chest and throbbing of your head
“Fuc- too much baby too much,” he mumbles gripping your hair to pull you off while he lies back trying to catch his breath. You can’t help but leave a last, teasing lick from its underside to the tip making him shudder and you softly giggle to yourself
Standing to your feet, you clean the embarrassing drops of drool and other fluids from your chin with a nearby tissue taking in his ruddy face. Bits of hair sticking to his forehead from the small beads of sweat and lashes - long and curled - lying against his cheeks. He always was so unfairly pretty
Slowly crawling up his body, you trail kisses along his sternum, collarbones, and jaw as you gently straddle his taut abdomen. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were getting old on me.” For that, you get a warning smack to your bottom slightly startling you yet also making you giggle while Ari tiredly chuckles
“Just gimme a couple minutes. We’ll see who’s makin’ jokes then.”
“I’m holding you to that,” you whisper nibbling his earlobe as you briefly grind down leaving a noticeable wet spot you’re more than sure Ari can feel, “because she really missed you.”
Clearly he’s caught his second wind sliding his hands from your back to gripping your buttcheeks and pulling you forward until your dripping core hovered over his mouth. A surprised squeak coming from your chest followed by a small mewl as his tongue dragged along your slit to your eager button
“Can’t keep her waiting then, can we?”
#ari levinson#ari levinson au#ari levinson x black!reader#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson x woc#red sea diving resort#chris evans#chris evans x black reader#chris evans x reader#chris evans x woc!reader
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Smudged (5)
Summary: Rodrick lives up to his side of the deal, or should I say, community service.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1K
A/N: Okay, so, this wasn't all that was planned for this chapter. Buttt I felt really rushed and hadn't updated this fic in a little over a month. I'll edit this with the rest of the chapter when I get to it, but for now, it's being put to rest indefinitely. Thank you for the support!
-
The next day, your best friend arrived in English early, much to your surprise. Daniel tossed a notebook onto your desk, slouching in his seat as if he were a drunk, divorced father. You took it into your hand, reading the messily written label, before looking up at the sorrowful boy in front of you. The pages were filled to the brim with outlines, sketches, and ideas; some pictures were lightly colored in.
“I see you’ve been busy,” you quipped.
Daniel hissed, the bags under his eyes more prominent, “This prompt is crap! I’ve been up all night trying to figure out how to do this.”
“You’re thinking too hard about it, Dan.” You pass it back to him, fingers tapping the wooden desk.
“That’s easy for you to say,” he ranted, “you just have drums!”
“I’d rather have the guitar.”
He rubbed his temples, “Not my point. Can’t you come with me tonight to take pictures?”
“In the forest? Dude, that’s every horror movie plot,” you scoffed, watching other students file in.
They sat in their seats or hopped on desks, with one girl rudely scooting on Daniel’s, “I know, that’s why I want you to come with me. I need photos for the presentation board!”
“I dunno if I can, I’m supposed to be going to Rodrick’s house tonight.”
“Since when did you start hanging out with him?”
“Since the need for a decent grade.”
Ms. Kawiti was the last to stroll inside, setting her bag on the table in the front of the classroom. She cleared her throat, and caused all chatter to cease, including your conversation with Daniel. Your best friend grumbled, turning back around, attempting to dodge the long hair intruding in his personal space. The girl herself reluctantly returned to her own place, sharing a few final giggles with her group. You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed and feet perched underneath your desk on a metal bar. There were other boys around the class doing the same, and you adjusted yourself to make the position more comfortable. Why did time have to go so slow when fun is on the other side?
On just another thing you were better than Rodrick at, you did not break any personal property when parking outside his house. Your shoes clacked against the concrete driveway, purple laces swinging, only stopping to knock on the door. The person who answered was not Rodrick, no, but a much older woman with a professional-looking outfit and brown hair to match. She looked so strikingly different from the drummer you knew that you almost backed away, apologizing for coming to the wrong house. Almost.
“Excuse me, ma’am, is this the Heffley family’s house?”
She seemed taken aback, almost wary as she took in your appearance, “Yes, are you one of Rodrick’s… bandmates?”
“Uh, no, I’m Heather’s brother. He invited me over for research,” you shrugged.
“Rodrick and research?” Mrs. Heffley cocked an eyebrow up, slightly stepping back to allow you inside.
You waved your hands, and said, “I know, absolutely unbelievable! However, I can assure you that I’m telling the truth– he brought home some books.”
“And I read it, duh,” a voice called from above.
Rodrick, the devil, hung his head over the overhead railing. He cocked his head at you, sneering. Mrs. Heffley shook her head, sighed, and walked into a separate room beside you; there wasn’t any attention on her anymore. Rodrick motioned for you to come up the stairs, before disappearing again.
His voice echoed, “C’mon, my room’s the coolest here!”
For a split second, you hesitated. You glanced back to where Mrs. Heffley had disappeared, unsure of whether it was appropriate to leave your shoes on and make a mess of the house. Just to be safe, you set them neatly beside the door, before following the other boy up the stairs.
When you finally arrived, Rodrick had already vanished once again. There were multiple doors running down the hallway, but the only hint as to the correct one was the faint sound of guitar riffs. It almost sounded like it was coming from above you, though you decided to peek into the closest unlocked door. This room wasn’t even a bedroom; it was simply a small bathroom meant for one or two people. There was a bit of a smell inside, like someone hadn't flushed the toilet. Hell, as curious as you were, you weren’t going to confirm that.
You barely could close the door before a finger tapped your shoulder, and you flinched, turning around– it was just Greg. The little boy was Rodrick’s unlucky younger brother, who was at least a head shorter than you. He seemed nicer than your acquaintance, and it really made you wonder how the two of them were raised in the same household. Perhaps Rodrick was adopted? Nah. Greg was studying you with a standoffish look in his eyes, the kind kids get when they meet strange family friends. You weren’t surprised; your looks were far from the typical suburban rich boy.
“His room’s in the attic,” Greg said, plainly, “Last door.”
He scurried off to do his own things, possibly to bug his mother about the newest Nintendo game. There was no last door on the left, only a wall that held an uncharacteristically peaceful family photo. Rodrick was still Rodrick, just younger, with devilish messy hair and dirt under his nails. On the right, however, there was a slightly ominous wooden door. In direct contrast to the opposite wall, the door had a sign that read Rodrick Only. It was so childishly Rodrick that you couldn’t help but chuckle under your breath.
One knock, two knock, three knock. The music coming from above grew ever so slightly quieter, and you could hear heavy footsteps coming down the attic stairs. It opened, only to an unimpressed drummer.
“Dude, aren’t you coming?” He frowned.
You shrugged, pointing to the sign, “I’m not allowed in. It’s Rodrick only, remember?”
Said boy rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh, “You’re the exception.”
“The exception?”
“An exception,” he corrected himself.
You pushed past him, clambering up the stairs, “Whatever you say, dick.”
“Weirdo.”
Rodrick’s room was, to put it nicely, a mess. His bed was undone, random magazines poked out from under his mattress, and you honestly couldn’t tell if the jeans hanging on the railing were dirty or clean. Three, conjoined windows were the only source of natural light, and you swore you could see a spider web hanging off the sill. Posters and grimy t-shirts were plastered all over the walls and ceiling; you doubted any space was left untouched. Rodrick’s drum set sat in the corner, shining like it was brand new.
He was shuffling through a bookshelf behind you, containing almost everything but books themselves, much to your amusement. Rodrick must have seen the quirk of your lips when he managed to pull a thin, perfectly packaged music book from its depths, as his eyes narrowed when he turned to face you.
“This is for the bare basics of drumming, it should cover all that mechanical stuff you have in your outline,” he shrugged.
“You actually read that?”
Rodrick’s gaze flicked towards you, unsure, before his chest puffed up obnoxiously, “Duh, what kinda guy do you take me for?”
…
“I’m not gonna answer that.”
“You’re just too scared to admit that I’m awesome!”
You mumbled, “You’re delusional.”
“Aha! I knew it!”
“If you know so much,” you tapped the cymbal, “give me what I’m here for.”
The
Rodrick groaned, “You’re such a party pooper sometimes.”
“Ironic.”
He swiped the drumsticks from the seat and pointed them at you threateningly, like an annoyed teacher, “Shh.”
Rodrick used the sticks to point out each individual drum part, explaining the noise they make and how he uses them in his band. You scratched your nose while he rambled on, not feeling in the mood to tell him you knew this already. It was only when he started back on the ego talk that your attention drifted to other parts of his room, to all the little details. There was a large poster of a woman holding a dark colored guitar, her hair swept back in a 90’s hairstyle that most definitely wouldn’t be possible without layers upon layers of spray. She had eyeliner smudged across her eyelids, but they had a cleaner edge than Rodrick’s attempts; quite similar to yours. Rodrick was now doing light taps to 4-4 time, nodding his head to the rhythm, eyes closed.
The fan in the opposite corner was making the glossed pages under his mattress flutter and loosen from where they were hidden. If you squinted your eyes, you could just barely make out a part of the photo– were those biceps? If you shuffled a bit to the right, you could pull it out enough that it would flutter out on its own, and that it did. Hell, Rodrick was too busy rocking out on the drums to hear your suspicions being confirmed.
You wouldn’t be surprised if Rodrick had a magazine full of half naked women hanging around somewhere; it was Rodrick, after all. However, one full of shirtless men? That was out of character for the self proclaimed womanizer. For a moment, you thought about telling him that you knew about his stash, but quickly dismissed it. You couldn’t imagine how embarrassing that would be for someone, even an asshole as shameless as him! Besides, who knows how insulated the walls of this house are, right? You bit your tongue, humming along to Rodrick’s music as he made a dramatic finish to the song.
“I was starting to worry I wasn’t keeping your attention there,” he chuckled to himself.
You tilted your head, “I just got lost in the beat, you know how it is.”
“That I do, dude. Was that all you needed?”
“Bingo, you were super useful.”
He grinned, “I’m always helpful! You could literally just ask Gregory his opinion on it, I taught him all about how to survive middle school.”
“The harshest environment, I’m aware.” You stood up.
“Okay,” he sensed the sarcasm in your tone, “you’re banned. Get out.”
“I’m going, I’m going, don’t get your panties in a twist!”
You ran down the stairs, hearing him cackling the whole way down. Rodrick was funny sometimes, you had to give him that. Maybe these next few weeks wouldn’t be so bad, after all.
-
#x male reader#male reader#lgbtq#male y/n#gay#bi rodrick heffley#rodrick heffley#doawk rodrick#rodrick x reader#diary of a wimpy kid rodrick#rodrick rules#transgender#punk#trans male reader#trans ftm#doawk#diary of a wimpy kid
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Permission Playlist!
So I‘ve tried to put together the songs which inspired me the most or that I remember vividly listening to, while writing chapters!
A lot of them just served to put me into a certain mood, so the lyrics don‘t necessarily match up, but the lyrics of most of the songs played a huge role. You might recognise some of them even 😋
Here’s the link: Permission Playlist
And if you haven‘t read Permission yet, here‘s Chapter 1.
Other than that, I want to give a little direction here, that you know which songs belong to which parts of the story, since sometimes they guided me for a whole chapter, sometimes a whole song for just a short moment! Sometimes the songs describe y/n’s point of view, but sometimes Sukuna’s too!
I’ve been writing Permission for over a year, so I probably won’t remember everything, but these were the most important ones I remember! I also tried to put them into order of when they fit into their moments or chapters:
(in-depth description (-ish) under the cut)
Song 1-15 (Wicked Games - Jenny Of Oldstones)
I listened to those songs mainly when I was planning the whole story. To give me moods, themes, emotions that I want to convey. I listened to the Game Of Thrones Soundtrack a lot in general, but those songs I listed in there were the ones who inspired me the most!
Fun fact here: Mado Kara Mieru from Christopher Tin was the one which gave me the most inspiration for how Sukuna’s melody would’ve sound like.
Song 16 (Serj Tankian - Rains of Castamere)
Basically my Soundtrack for Chapter 13 and especially the throne room scene, when the new girl arrives and Sukuna invites her in.
Song 17 - 21 (Obsessed - Entitled)
Those songs guided me from the moment when Sukuna saves y/n from the curses until the end of the camping arc. I don’t recall listening to music a lot during that time of writing, cause I acquired that skill only later 🌝
Honorable mentions here:
Zandros - Obsessed was for me the moment y/n sees Sukuna standing over her after killing the curses, seeing the snow flakes crash against his body. Idk this song carried the mood for me.
Adin - Somebody Else was one of the few songs that I connected with Sukuna’s pov.
Song 22 - 23 (Crash and Burn - Breathe)
Those songs described for me the moment when they return to the shrine and long for each other, before y/n gains the courage to knock on his door in chapter 24.
Song 24 Max Richter - On The Nature Of Daylight
I don’t remember clearly, but I think I listened to this to get in a sad mood to describe y/n’s pain when Sukuna left for war and she misses him dearly.
A good song in general to get a fucking sad mood tbh.
Song 25 - 27 (The Way - Violently)
Oh those were the songs I listened to when y/n follows him into the war. Chapter 29 & 30 all the way.
Zack Hemsey - The Way was perfect to listen to when she realises, she’s close to Sukuna and the war is starting. This remix with the sirens was perfect for me to visualise how she’s running over that battlefield, dodging the bombs, fighting her way through. It’s still such an epic scenery in my head which I hope I could convey!
Jayme Deville - Right on Time kinda gave me slow motion pictures in my head, for when Sukuna approaches her during battle.
Mira - Violently is such an incredible song for me. It describes her whole journey and emotions so so good. I listened to it when I wrote the kissing scene, but it grew to be a super important song for their whole relationship, that’s why I would choose it for a rolling credit song hehe.
Song 28 - 31 (The Shadows - Take Me Back To Eden)
Those were all the songs which inspired me for the Sex Scene when Sukuna returns from war in Chapter 32.
Honorable mention here:
Sleep Token - Take Me Back To Eden just IS the moment for me when y/n notices, that Sukuna stayed in her room and he opens his eyes to her.
The lyrics
My, my, those eyes like fire
I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
just describe the effect that Sukuna (and his gaze and eyes) have on y/n (and on me tbh) so perfectly, that I needed to add that to the rolling credit choice as well.
Song 32 - 33 (O Saki Saki - Lahu Munh Lag Gaya)
Heh! Chapter 33, the festival! I actually planned to have a dancing scene with y/n and other people from the festival, kinda Bollywood style, to impress our Lord and Saviour Sukuna! 😆
However, since that requires A WHOLE OTHER LEVEL of writing skill, I decided to leave it. The Songs still served me perfectly well to get in the mood for a cool ass festival atmosphere for a cool ass King!
Song 34 Clann - Her & the Sea
Chapter 35, when Sukuna and y/n talk on the bridge. Just that moment and atmosphere.
Song 35 - 36 (Timeout - You Thought)
Mood Songs for when y/n is gonna find out that Sukuna fucked around when he was in war. No particular moment here, but served me to get into her emotional state.
Song 37 - 41 (Ecstasy - Luscious)
Again mood songs for sex scenes after Sukuna’s confession in Chapter 36.
I think I listened to Ecstasy and All I Need by The MXXNLIGHT for the Throne Sex in Chapter 25 as well.
Song 42 Clann - She Loves The Rain
I think this one explains itself…Dancing in the rain with Sukuna in Chapter 44.
Song 43 - 44 (Fatal Attraction - Obsession)
Again mood songs for their overall relationship, that represent how knee deep y/n is in love with Sukuna.
Song 45 Mira - Thorns
Oh Mira, how I love her music. That song was published a few chapters before I was ready to write Akiko’s murder, but it described y/n’s reaction regarding Sukuna’s apathy so perfectly in Chapter 45. My heart ached so much when I listened to it the first time!
Fun fact here: The moment when Sukuna reveals that he was pushing the maids with motivation, was actually planned to be directly after Akiko’s death. I noticed in the early draft of that chapter, that it doesn’t work out and decided last minute to completely change that plan and to write that moment into the finale of the story.
Song 46 - 48 (Blood Code - Cold Blooded)
My soundtrack for y/n’s killing spree in Chapter 46 😆
Song 49 Zandros - Look What You’ve Done To Me
Mood Song for the aftermath of Sayako’s death and y/n’s feelings about coming a monster in Chapter 47
I think that‘s it. I hope you enjoy! <3
#permission#permission playlist#permission chapters#sukuna#true form sukuna#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#true form sukuna smut#fanfiction#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you
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𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞
Jake Kim Fic.
Notes: I will give you no warnings and I fully expect you all to question my mental stability. (Y/N) is AFAB
Something was different about Jake’s mornings now. He had a new mattress, set an alarm, and did live in a small apartment. That’s not what he meant though.
It was a different feeling. A sudden jolt in his stomach and a slight panic whenever he awoke. It only lasted a few seconds before he returned to his numb state of consciousness. A sight panic. It wasn’t immediate… in fact a few minutes into his morning routine always passed before he felt it. Suddenly he’s come to the realization that he was alone, but not completely.
He wasn’t used to waking up, glancing over his shoulder, and discovering a warm bundle of… a person… laying beside him.
It still weighed on him. He wasn’t looking after just himself anymore. He had bigger responsibilities than just Big Deal.
He’d avoid it like the plague at first. Slip out of bed as quietly as he could. His feet heavily padding against the floor as he stumbled into the kitchen. Make breakfast, style his hair, get dressed, and then wake the kid. That was the routine.
Jake would help him into his high chair. A high chair Jake hadn’t bought and still struggled to use. He fumbled with the bib, but eventually the kid had it on and he could give him whatever breakfast there was.
He knew, deep down, helping a toddler wasn’t that hard. Especially when he was sleepy still. Jerry could strap him into that high chair in a heartbeat. Somehow Jake couldn’t.
Everyone else seemed more capable of caring for the little tyke except for Jake. And he wasn’t sure how to feel about that, especially since the kid lived with him.
Even if the kid didn’t have much stuff to begin with, Jake was happy some items around the house gave him comfort. Items lying around that normally only added to the clutter.
Samuels old jacket; Golden Age pictures; Samuel’s old cigarettes; magazines of women’s clothes; some of Jake’s cologne. The kid loved those things, and Jake knew why. He missed the kid’s dad, too.
Strapping the kid into the car was difficult, too. Jakes fingers fumbled with the baby-seat-straps. Sinu’s car held a lot of memories, especially in the back seat.
It smelled of cigarettes back there. Just a little though. Stale cigarettes- Jake didn’t smoke.
“Smells like daddy.”
“Yeah, it does,” Jake smiles.
Jake smiles a lot for the kid. The kid does make him smile… naturally.
Jake walks around, feeling numb and hollow. He goes through the motions. He leaves the kid with the ladies of Big Deal street, and naturally that lifts some weight off his shoulders.
There’s only one downside.
“Jake! Today we was… folding clothes. And they said ‘just like… yer mama!’ And I said ‘yes!’” The kid slurs his words together before waddling up to Jake and wrapping his chubby arms around Jake’s legs. “Mama mama…”
Another thing that leaves Jake feeling empty, maybe even confused. He never fuels the topic. On the ride home he’ll listen to the jumbled, mumbled words of the toddler, nodding and smiling, giving soft “wow”s in reply. The baby mentions his dad and Jake stops smiling. The baby mentions his mom and Jake asks him to be quiet for a minute. Politely of course. The kid stares out the window.
Jake could ghost the hallways of his apartment for hours. He can spend the rest of eternity clawing for some warmth and wondering why he feels so lonely. He could dodge phone calls for months, not speak to anyone for years, stay by himself for as long as he needs until he’s healed. In reality, he can’t do any of that.
Not when he crawls into bed at midnight, then turns in the covers to see the kid already in there. Warm little guy, wearing his pajamas already, pudgy cheeks smushed into the pillows.
Jake can’t process anything when he’s a godfather. He didn’t even know it until the parents were gone.
He wishes he could hear Samuel’s bitter voice asking, gruffly, reluctantly, if Jake would accept the position. Jake would have said yes. He would’ve done anything for him, especially if it would’ve filled this void of confusion and emptiness he feels right now.
When did Samuel ever decide he still trusted Jake? When had he ever agreed to (Y/N)’s insistent arguments? Jake wanted to know so badly. He wanted to hear their voices, in person, asking him. Telling him. He wanted to feel their presence. They didn’t have to touch him… he just wanted to feel that they were really there.
Something, anything, because Jake was goddamn lonely. He felt so sick; so empty; so horrible. How could he be expected to heal? How could he move on. How… when that little Samuel lay beside him in bed? How… when that miniature (Y/N) tried his hardest to please him, tried his hardest to make Jake smile.
How was Jake supposed to heal, when instead of the kid wailing about missing his parents, it’s the godfather sobbing into his pillow in the middle of the night. How can he teach the kid to walk on his own, when Jake himself can hardly crawl?
Jake doesn’t want to participate in this kid’s life when all it seems to do is drain his own. When did he become such a pity-party? When did Jake Kim become such a sour wuss?
Maybe it was the moment his hands went numb. His body tingled and his stomach dropped. His mind shut off. But he was crying. He was crying a lot. The moment when everyone froze… everyone panicked, because their boss was crying.
Jake didn’t want to be alone in this apartment. He didn’t want to have to wake up, eat some breakfast, and then realize he had to make another serving for someone else’s kid.
He didn’t want to sit in silent solace, waiting for some form of comfort to come to him. He didn’t want to be alone. He wished he wasn’t so adept at hiding his emotions. He wanted help. He wanted Jerry’s help… maybe; or else Lua’s help. Or maybe he wanted a long talk with Jason or Lineman. Maybe he just wanted to sit quietly with Brad.
It all sounded so nice. Nostalgic.
The only activity that actually excited him… made him feel warm inside… was being with Sinu. But not just Sinu. Of course, Jake wished for the impossible. He would kill to stand, just the three of them on the pier. Sinu, Samuel, and Jake.
He wanted to hug (Y/N) again. He wanted to feel their touch, smell their hair, listen to their voice. He loved (Y/N). The way they laughed, the way they whispered. The way they confided in Jake about everything. About Samuel… about being pregnant.
Jake wanted Sammy. He had stopped using the nickname in his head… but he realized that it was the only name that felt right.
Jake didn’t even realize he was crying until he felt the teardrops on his pillow. He felt two little hands shaking him. He heard a trembling voice.
“Jake…” Iseul sniffled. (Y/N) had picked the name out. Jake loved it.
He sat upright, wiping away at his tears hastily. It was hard to get toddlers to stop crying… he had no idea how the kid would react to seeing him cry.
”Y-Yeah, what is it buddy?” Jake wipes his nose and smiles serenely. Like plastic.
Iseul crawls into Jake’s lap, lighter than expected. His head leans against Jake’s chest and the kid’s little hands attempt to grip onto his shoulders.
“Please don’t cry… please. I’m sorry I make you cry.”
“You don’t make me cry,” Jake assures, his brows shooting upward in surprise. “I was just feeling a little… it’s nothing kiddo.”
Jake is a bad parent. He’s a bad parent to Samuel’s kid. In his head he knows he could do better, yet his body doesn’t seem able to function like a proper parent.
“Yeah I do…” Iseul nods, his face rubbing up and down on Jake’s sleeping shirt. “Cuz I look like daddy.”
Jake feels his throat tightening. “Yeah you do.”
His voice feels hoarse. Lips trembling, he plants a soft kiss against the kid’s head.
A miniature best friend. The person Jake has been craving for.
He smooths back Iseul’s dark head of hair. If they styled it a bit he’s look exactly like his dad.
“I miss my mommy and daddy.”
Jake feels wet droplets on his shirt. He has to close his eyes to steady his breathing, not at all prepared for this conversation.
Tiny, pudgy hands form fists. Iseul pounds his hands against Jake’s chest, screaming and begging to have his parents back.
His little body shakes as he demands for his parents. A feeble voice shouts for them back, and Jake can’t answer.
This goes on for a couple minutes. Jake forgot to breathe. He didn’t realize all his replies were muddled by his own sobs.
The kid calms down, eyes red and bloodshot and tiny body heaving for air. Jake wraps his arms around Iseul tighter.
“Iseul I’m so sorry… that I can’t do anything about that. Really. If I could I would bring your parents back. But they’re de… they’re d-” he pauses for a few seconds.
“Your parents are gone. And I know neither of us are really yet but… I’m as good of a dad as you’re gonna get.” He apologizes in his head if he sucks at it.
The kid sleeps. Jake does too. Tired from crying, tired from hiding his feelings. He doesn’t feel ready to move on. But… he’s got a kid now.
Sorry
#This is the biggest angst brainrot EVER#Sorry Jake 🤧#Jake Kim#lookism webtoon#lookism#lookism manhwa#samuel seo#Jake Kim angst#Big Deal#Big deal angst#Lookism AU#Death AU#Samuel Seo angst#Lookism angst#Lookism fanfic#(Y/N)#afab reader#Unedited af
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Hey! Hope you are doing okay 🩷
I have a little request (if you feel comfortable, of course). I would love for you to write about Arthur Morgan x F!reader (Or GN), both are former lovers and they are reminiscing their time together. You can make it romantic, anyway you want. 🩷
Distant Memory
✿ Arthur Morgan x F!reader ✿
Warnings : TB Arthur (based in chapter 4 after he has been diagnosed- iM sOrRy) angst, fluff, past relationship, use of y/n.
Authors Note : I took the 'anyway you want' and rolled with it. I loved writing this thank you for the request queen 💙💙
Summary : You run into a familiar face and spend some time catching up and reminiscing.
You didn't expect him to look so... fragile- he wasn't well and you could see just from a quick glance in his direction. You turn around suddenly, retracing your steps as you follow behind the man and place your hand gently on his shoulder.
"Arthur?" He turns, slightly startled as you call out his name; you take in his appearance, his face was sunken and his complexion sallow. "It is you-"
"Y/n?" He speaks your name so softly you hardly hear him say it. "What are you doin' here?" He questions, motioning his hand to the busy streets of Saint Denis.
"Just visiting, it's nice to get away from the country now and then." You smile gently. "It's good to see you." You whisper.
"It-" He brings his hand to his mouth, coughing harshly. "-It's nice to see you." He responds as he wipes his hand against his shirt.
"You don't look well, Arthur..." You frown, taking his arm and stepping to the side of the street to stay clear of the bustling road. "How are you, how's the gang?" You ask. You knew little of the gang, only hearing stories from Arthur and seeing pictures of their faces littered on wanted posters.
"The gang-" he chuckles. "The gang has seen better days and, well, so have I." He sighs, leaning on his right side against the brick wall.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Don't be, was going to happen sooner or later." He replies bluntly.
"What happened?" You ask.
"How much time you got?" He asks back.
"I'm not going anywhere." You smile faintly. "Would you like to go somewhere more quiet? It would be nice to catch up after all these years." You suggest.
"Uh, yeah, we can do that." He nods. "Do you have a horse?" He questions as he whistles loudly, watching as his horse trots towards you both.
"I took the train here." You respond.
He lifts himself onto his steed and holds out his hand for you, which you gladly take; he pulls you up and you sit behind him, placing your hands carefully on either side of his waist. He tells you to hold on tight as you both make your way out of the city, dodging people and wagons as you go. You ride in silence for a while and you watch as the landscape changes from thick, murky swamps to the vivid greens of the plains.
"This should do." Arthur says as he pulls tightly on the reins, bringing the horse to a complete stop. He gets down from the horse first and offers his hand once again for you to take.
"Thank you." You smile kindly as your feet touch the ground.
"Course, no problem." He nods and heads towards a small lake, sitting on the ground a few feet from it; you follow after him and sit beside him, grateful that the grass is dry and not caked in mud. "How's your family?"
"Oh- My mother passed not too long ago." You sigh. "She was sick, went in her sleep."
"I'm sorry to hear that, she was always a nice woman."
"She still was, until the end." You smile faintly. "My Pa is well, still strong after everything." You laugh. "I know the both of you never saw eye to eye."
"He never liked the whole outlaw thing." Arthur grins.
"So, what happened?" You ask, referencing back to the gang.
"What hasn't happened?" He scoffs. "Job back in Blackwater went bad, real bad- Dutch shot some innocent girl and he ain't been right since." He sighs. "Then we lost Sean, always thought I'd celebrate the day that annoying boy left." He chuckles lightly. "He was like a brother to me..."
"I'm sorry to hear that." You respond kindly.
"Lost Hosea and Lenny not too soon after that, bank job in Saint Denis went horribly wrong."
"So, that's what all the wanted posters are about." You acknowledge. "Hosea- you used to mention him all the time."
"He was a better father than my real one ever was." He hums. "Always told me I was an idiot for not running off with you."
You giggle. "I can't imagine how that would have turned out."
"Would have been nice." He replies suddenly, surprised by his own response.
"I think you're right." You beam.
"You do?" He questions, coughing lightly.
"You were always good to me, Arthur. Always looked out for me, made me feel safe." You smile sadly. "Maybe in another life, we would have made it work..."
"If i didn't have people to look after I-"
"I know." You cut him off. "You were always so loyal, it's one thing I loved about you."
"Wasn't loyal enough to you." He sighs.
"I always knew that the gang came first, even if you didn't want to say it out loud." You place your hand over his. "They're family."
"You could have been family too." He mumbles, taking his hand from yours as he coughs roughly into it.
You frown, moving your hand to his back. "You're sick, ain't you?" You say, already knowing the answer.
"I'm dyin'" He laughs coldly. "Got tuberculosis, beating a guy for a few bucks."
"Oh, Arthur..." You rub your hand up his back slowly. "I- don't know what to say- I'm sorry." You sniff sadly.
"Dont be, I deserve every last second of it." He states bluntly.
"Don't say that!" You scold.
"I ain't the same man you fell in love with." He responds.
"Even so, no one deserves this."
"I'm a killer, Y/n." He laughs, standing up. "I hurt people, I steal from 'em too."
"There's always some good in people, Arthur. You always did good." You express, standing up to meet his eyes.
"The person you knew, he's just a distant memory." He admits.
"I don't believe that." You step closer, taking both his hands in yours. "I don't think that part of you would just disappear, Arthur."
"You don't know me no more." He shakes his head.
"I do, because the person you are talking about wouldn't have spared me a second glance: wouldn't have helped me up onto his horse and sat next to me by the lake." You grip his hands tighter. "Maybe, if you really think you have changed- you should use the time you have left to be good."
"I- I'm tryin' to help people." He sighs.
"You are a good man, Arthur Morgan." You smile softly. "And I don't think you are too different from the man I never stopped loving." You place your hand against his cheek gently.
"Wish I never left." He whispers, placing his hand on top of your small one.
"We can't change the past." You frown.
"I'll do better." He insists.
You nod, leaning up and placing a quick kiss to his cheek. "I know."
#arthur morgan#arthur morgan x reader#x reader#arthur morgan x y/n#x y/n#arthur morgan x you#x you#arthur morgan x female reader#x female reader#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#red dead redemption arthur#red dead redemption x reader#reader insert#fanfic#fanfiction#tb!arthur morgan#arthur morgan angst#arthur morgan fluff#past relationships#I want to go back in time and save this man#requests#ask and you shall receive
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TROLLS ASCENSION AU?
Okay, I've seen so many big-brained artists and writers come up with AUs where we swap a troll with Velvet and Veneer, or another troll with Floyd, etc., etc.
But what if the swap was somewhere way back in the beginning of the story?
~~~
Picture this:
It's finally time. The plan is risky, and even a little rocky, but all the preparations have been made. All the pieces put in place to put said plan in motion. The Pop Trolls were finally going to escape from Bergen-Town.
Viva was scared. Tomorrow was Trollstice. Anything could go wrong. She headed into the nursery, Poppy fast asleep.
King Peppy watched over her crib, exhausted from his renewed responsibilities as a father to a newborn. He cracked a weak smile to his eldest. “You alright?”
She shrugged. “I'm worried. For tomorrow."
Her father sighed. "You're not alone. But after your mother..."
Viva shut her eyes. They lost her mother just last year. After the Queen's death, King Peppy couldn't stand to lose either of his daughters. The day after that Trollstice, the plan to escape was hatched.
"I know," she said quietly. "But you're right, we can't let Poppy grow up here."
She glanced at her sister's small body, sound asleep. Poppy hadn't faced the terrors that the Pop Trolls had suffered yet. Viva was determined to make sure she would never have to.
Morning rose, and Viva’s eyes fluttered open to the sight of an empty crib. She bolted upright, running out of the pod to bump into her father.
“Viva,” he panted. His hand gripped hers, tugging without haste. “We have to leave, now.”
“Dad? What's going on? I thought we were leaving at noon—”
“There’s been a change in plans. With today being the Bergen Prince's first Trollstice, they're coming to the tree at sunrise. We haven't much time left."
Viva halted her confusion and nodded. It was time.
After the last of the villagers entered the tunnels, soon following behind was King Peppy and the princesses. His majesty charged ahead, leading his people. Viva stalled to make sure every troll was up and going. No troll left behind.
The rumbles and roars of Bergens could be heard above. They'd been found out.
Soon enough, the tips of pickaxes struck the ground, blasting pieces of rubble all around the target area. Large hands dug through the terrain, leaving the trolls to dodge and weave through every obstacle.
The cries of few trolls could be heard ahead of Viva, a straggler here and there. Her father grabbed whomever he could, and she grabbed the rest.
"Don't let go!" She called to the trolls alongside her. "Grab whoever you can and hold on tight. We are making it out of here--"
A hand burst from the tunnel ceiling directly above Viva, it's coarse fingers wriggling around, trying to grab whoever it could find. Viva tensed, but before it could grab her she ducked and rolled, lassoing the trolls behind her. That was close.
It felt like forever, but she and the others could see the light of a single torch. They were close to the group, her father was just ahead. But to Viva's shock, it wasn't as pleasant a sight as she would've hoped.
King Peppy was ensnared by one of the Bergen's pickaxes, and he had just thrown a cluster of trolls along the path to safety.
"Keep running! And don't stop," she told the others. She turned to his majesty. "Dad, just hold on, we can figure out how to get you loose."
"Viva, there's no time. You need to get to safety." He reached into his hair and pulled out Poppy. "Take your sister. Run."
"Dad? What are you doing?"
"I'll be right behind you. Take your sister to safety."
"What? No, I'm not leaving you!"
"If we all stay here to long, there's a chance one of us could get caught." He embraced his daughter before him. "I... I can't lose you too."
"But..." Tears welled up in Viva's eyes. She clasped her father's hand on her cheek, clutching tightly. "What about no troll left behind?"
His hand patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Viva."
With a great amount of force, he pushed her back right as a hand emerged from above. It plucked King Peppy up and away, as Viva screamed for her Dad. He was gone.
The bundle of trolls that were rolling down the tunnel finally stopped, collapsing just outside the exit in a plume of dust.
One of them limp towards it, turning to the others in despair. "I don't think... King Peppy made it."
A shadowed figure could be seen through the clouds of dust, eventually turning out to be... Princess Viva.
"Your highness," the village clamored in confusion and disbelief. "Where's His Majesty?"
Viva turned her head towards the crowd as her knees gave out, legs folding from physical and emotional exhaustion. "He's... he's gone."
She cried, sobbing to herself quietly as she looked down to her sister in her arms. "Our dad is gone."
~~~
So... Viva becomes queen. 🤪
I call it the Ascension AU. HUGE credit of inspiration to neonross_ on tiktok for their change of course trolls au!! Never would have dreamt this up without their genius. It's where brozone never broke up, and parts of it are still being revealed, so head over there and check it out!!
Might elaborate on how the plot of the first movie's plot would've developed with this change, so let me know if you guys would be interested in that! More writing and art coming soon!
#trolls#trolls 3#dreamworks#trolls band together#trolls viva#trolls poppy#trolls king peppy#trolls au#fanfic#writing#trolls ascension au
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Thank you for your destiny shipping powers!! You are keeping us kai x morro peeps fed
Just for you sweet anon, have some crumbs.
WIP of something I been working on for awhile - DestinyShipping in a sparring match where Morro learns a lil something new ;)
Soon, Morro began to realize that even as Kai moved and switched his attacks, he kept the same pattern going. First, he would aim for Morro's legs, then he'd try to strike at him with his sword. Finally, he'd lunge forward, flying right at Morro and putting him on the defensive. The moves themselves were different, changing only in presentation, but Morro found himself reacting the same way each time. Jump, dodge and defend, with the two young men circling each other as the cycle continued.
He was struck suddenly with a sense of deja vu as the memory of Wu's monastery flooded his mind. The way he was moving now reminded him far too much of the training course in the courtyard where he'd first learned how to fight. If he closed his eyes, he could picture it perfectly in his mind; the training course, the obstacles he'd faced, and the pattern he'd trained his body to rehearse and memorize until he was aching all over. It wasn't long before he started going through the motions, and he wondered briefly why Kai was making this all so easy for him.
He opened his eyes to see Kai crouched down, ready to sweep him off his feet. He leaped away from the attack, coming to a stop somewhere to Kai's right.
Over the planks…
Then the pommel of Kai's sword was headed right for Morro's chest. Only having a second to react, Morro aimed a swift roundhouse to the flat side of the blade, knocking it out the way and out of Kaiś hands.
Dodge the swords…
Without his sword, Kai leaped towards Morro with a grunt, arms outstretched and looking to grab onto something. Morro took a defensive stance, ready to pivot back and strike with his elbow.
Here comes the dummy…
He landed the blow, and suddenly everything around him was passing by in a blur, going round and around him in a whirlwind of color. Morro's breath caught in his throat as it dawned on him that he was spinning, the realization throwing him off his balance. He stumbled in place for a minute, before tripping over his own feet and hurtling towards the ground.
"Whoa!"
Before he could make contact, he felt Kai's hands grab onto him, helping him back to his feet and holding him steady. Breathing heavily, Morro allowed himself a minute to soak in what he had just done, and to give his vision a chance to catch up with his body. All these years and it had really been that easy? He'd known the moves all along?
#destinyshipping#firestorm ninjago#windflame#kai x morro#kai ninjago#kai smith#morro wu#morro ninjago#breathless writes
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Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for Trigun Vol. 1, Chapters 7-8 below. (More detailed thoughts will be their own posts.)
Chapter 7: Rem
Who counts speed in decimal points of MPH?!
I'm laughing so hard over the ominous kyuru-kyuru-kyuru of the squeaking wheel.
IT WAS JUST A DISTRACTION!!!
Dang, that's so many communication tubes...
LOL, I can't believe Vash took the time to make a sign and stick it to one of the mook's backs.
"That blond twit" is probably one of the nicer things people have called Vash, TBF. I don't think that title would bother him much.
Heheheheheh, Vash just... randomly having high-tech lost technology tiny radio gadgets on him. Because of course he does.
This is true. Also, he probably doesn't want to. He should probably just explain by smiling and saying, "I'm Vash the Stampede!" That would probably be enough.
Aw, man. Things are already not going their way.
I love, love how strongly Vash reacts to realizing he accidentally injured someone badly. It hurts to see, but it tells us so much about his character.
Current favorite Vash Serious Pose:
Oh, child. Vash knows EXACTLY what he's doing and what the risks are.
Vash is telling Katie to remember Rem's name, but without context, it's just gonna be confusing for the kid.
I appreciate the little detail that, now that the injured peon is being treated for his wound, we see his face. Now he's no longer a faceless peon. Now he's a person.
I've seen other people say it, but I'm gonna say it, too. Vash is absolutely not underestimating people.
I love how Vash's face is covered in this panel. I love how it obscures our perception of how he's reacting to this. I love how hard this hits when you know his history.
"Your ticket to the future is always blank."
Yeah, Shinypants McGee gets it. He recognizes skill when he sees it.
Poor Vash has been running around too much with all this. He needs a nap and some juice. And... uh... medical treatment.
That... is the exact opposite of "the only clear room."
And yet, Vash's first concern is making sure Katie is safe.
Chapter 8: Duelists
Aww, colored Milly and Meryl!
And here the ship's captain is like, "Yep, I'm now putting all my hopes into the hands of some rando I haven't even met because he may or may not be giving Shinypants McGee trouble."
Someone's been dodging bullets again, I see...
Current favorite Vash Annoyed Pose:
Dear lord, this crotch shot. It's upsetting. Suffer with me (and the kid) as I post a picture of it.
Pfft. I'm pretty sure only a couple chapters back Vash was talking about how people's hearts in this world were so dry it made him wonder why folks go on living. I think he knows that reality isn't exactly pretty.
DERRINGER MERYL!!! DERRINGER MERYL!!!
LOL, Milly just inventing a cool name for herself on the spot.
Overlook today's events?? Why is she blaming Vash for today's events?! He's been doing his darndest to STOP today's events, and he certainly didn't put them in motion!
Hahahaha, seems like the peons didn't realize they were up against Mr. The Stampede.
Dang, Vash cutting right to the point there. He just straight-up deduces Shinypants McGee lost family in July. Shinypants denies it, but methinks this good sir doth protest too much.
Alas, no answers for anyone here.
Despite everything this guy's done, Vash trusts he'll honor the bargain of the duel and agrees to it.
I love that Meryl and Milly are still running around in their peon suits.
DRAMATIC COIN TOSS
Really, all Shinypants has to do is drag this out. He doesn't have to win. If he takes too long, the ship is lost regardless. But if he takes too too long, he'll go down with it.
This guy opens fire wildly, but Vash... he only shot a single bullet, yeah?
Oh, babygirl. Where's your band-aid??
Sure, he's honoring his bargain, but the situation just went from bad to worse.
#this is a terrible place to leave off but it's all i have time for tonight#trigunbookclub#trigun manga#volume 1#pancake analysis
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I think it's very neat that Chase and Omi have such similar fighting styles, and I think lends to the idea that Chase may have also been dragon of Water in his time!
Water is all about ebb and flow. It reacts to all energy given to it and follows the paths of least resistance. When it's built up enough force the blow can be devastating, like a wave or a heavy rainfall. But water always seeks to return to a form at rest. It moves similarly to Wind, but they still have a fundamental difference. Wind is a force in itself, it pushes things out of its way and avoids stillness. Water is something whose natural state is rest. And while Omi is very strong for his size, his greatest strength is in getting opponents to underestimate him and use their strengths against them, especially after Chase takes him under his wing.
Likewise, Chase's whole philosophy is about manipulation and turning attacks back on people. In his first fight with the Monks, he doesn't even really fight back. He blocks or redirects attacks for the most part and lets them take themselves out in a rush.
Heck. You could even say Chase getting involved as late in the game as he does is an extension of that. Despite having a reputation of an evil overlord, Chase has clearly been content to be King Of The Mountain and not actively pursue the world of hellfire and conquer he achieves after gaining Omi's loyalty. As long as no one bothers him in his mountain lair or threatens his power, he's content to mostly let the world run as it pleases. At least until Wuya and other Heylin Big Bads show a real display of power, and Then Chase decides its time to remind people who's top dog
(writerkat)
I think it’s interesting, too!
Like you said, wind and fire are both processes, but water is a fluid with a state of rest. But unlike solid, steady earth, water is easily disturbed and almost always has this ebb and flow. It’s not the heavy, unshakeable defense like earth, or an active explosive offense like fire. Air and water both follow fluid dynamics, but water has more pushback and more weight, it’s not so easily compressed or dispersed.
And similarly, Chase and Omi’s fighting styles don’t heavily skew towards either offense or defense.
They have a balanced focused split between them, fluidly using defense to shift into counters and turn an opponent's force against them.
They don’t tank hits the best, but they’re good at weaving past attacks or redirecting anything that bears down on them. They’re good at baiting their opponents or leading the fight where they need it to be in order to take advantage, just like water is good at steadily eroding things to take new shape.
They are very strong in their own right, but they aren’t packing the physically strongest punches-- so they often let their opponents wear themselves out or take themselves out with their own strength.
Sometimes they do it by outright reflecting their opponent’s attacks or forcing their opponents into their own line of fire. Sometimes they do it by waiting until their opponent is half-way through an attack, and then launching a counter-strike in-between dodging.
“It’s not the strongest opponent, but the strongest will,” is a philosophy that’s perfectly in line with the malleable but steady force that water is.
Their styles are flowing and practiced and fluid. They’re not grounded so much as they are centered.
Just compare their movements here. “Ebb and flow”!
That also might be why fighting in his dragon form comes a lot less naturally to Chase, especially in the alternate timeline where he hasn’t gotten used to it. It’s big and bulky, and even though Chase is good with the tail, he’s a bit less graceful with everything else the form entails.
But yeah, another thing is how they both were at a stasis until outside forces spurred them into motion!
Omi just stayed training at the temple, and Chase just stayed training in his domain, until the other monks and villains came into the picture and turned Omi and Chase into more active forces.
Just like how the sea can change from serene to furiously storming in an instant, they both love fighting but are surprisingly passive by nature.
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hey i hope you’re okay,
could i get 13 with chris maybe where they’re having a family gathering and his fiancé isn’t used to the massice family gathering that come with his family still since she’s never really had that family dynamic. so she gets really overwhelmed and has a panic attack mixed with a sensory overload and disappears to their bedroom to go calm down with her weighted blankets and whilst wearing one of chris’ t-shirts to hopefully calm her and it’s just fluff from chris because she feels bad be he knows it’s something out of her control so it’s just pure comfort.
hopefully this isn’t too long sending love ❤️
I don't really write much RPF anymore, but this was just such a deserving scene to picture, I had to. I loved this, I have felt this so many times. Thanks Babes.
13- Too Loud
"Sweetheart, you okay?"
You had burst into the house from the backyard where Chris was throwing a summer pool party for the family. Even from the bedroom, you could hear the thump of music, dogs barking and kids squealing as they were taking dives into the pool.
You also felt awful for the scene you thought you caused. You loved Chris's family, they were your family. This loud rambunctious group who already labeled you as a sister, something you had never had till they came into your life.
The only issue was it could be so overwhelming. You felt his hands brush against your cheek, pushing back your hair till he could see your face clearly, obviously checking to make sure you were still with him. Understanding dawned on him as Dodger wedged the bedroom door open with a clear sharp whine. "Dodge, chill bubs." Chris said gently as you felt hot tears well up.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to Chris." You started, all of that anxiety and overwhelming panic bubbling up and he wrapped his arms around you to give you a gentle squeeze, the pressure and his solid chest making you feel grounded, not so out of control.
"Baby, it's okay. I know they can be a lot all at once." He rubbed his palms against your back and waited till the shaking stop before taking you to the bed.
"I should go back out, at least apologize to Lisa. I just cut out convo off so abruptly." You sniffled in his tee-shirt. It smelled good, recognizing your favorite cologne and it was all warmed up from him being out in the sun. You picked at his shirt, bringing the soft fabric to dab at your eyes. The motion made him chuckle a bit as he sat you down on the bed.
"Don't you worry about Ma, I will go talk to her." He gave a whistle that had Dodger scrambling up the bed, all perked ears and bright-eyed as he curled up next to you. Chris stretched out on the other side of you, still rubbing at your back. Being tucked in between your two boys, you could feel yourself starting to calm down, your heart wasn't racing anymore. Now you just felt tired.
Almost lazily you scratched at Dodgers' ears while Chris started doing small patterns in the small of your back. "You can go back if you want Chris, I'm fine, I promise." You look over your shoulder at him. His eyes were slanted almost to a shut, taking advantage of the calming atmosphere the bedroom provided.
"Just a little longer... I needed a breather too and they know how to entertain themselves." He tucked in closer, wrapping an arm around your waist while planting a kiss on your shoulder, rubbing his chin against the curve. "I think tomorrow we should stay just like this, all day. This is nice."
You weren't going to argue about him leaving you, this was nice. Dodger apparently enjoyed it as well because he promptly stretched out, his tail giving a couple thumps as if agreeing with his human.
Send Me An Ask From This List
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Hello! :D
So, what about clothing styles for how many of your girls you feel like describing?
Oooh thanks for the ask, Arja! I'm gonna include pictures where I can c:
(Prompts here)
Break because this is getting long haha. I'm pulling from a mix of historical fashion and costume, apologies for the inconsistency in time periods.
Arianwen Tabris
Wen leans toward practical with subtle details. I see her sticking to Warden colors after the Joining, so mainly silvers/greys, deep blue, and black. The added benefit to these colors, of course, is that you can sneak around a fair amount and you're a bit harder to spot in the dark. She would prefer comfortable, easy-to-move-in clothes (just in case) with space to hide plenty of weapons.
I think she probably hangs out in her rogue armor most of the time, and when she's actually going to bed/committing to not wearing armor, she probably wears some version of trousers/loose shirt and she'll maybe throw a nicer-looking vest over the top if she needs to look more official:
On occasions when formality is required, she tries to stick with these same basic principles. I know it's not very Dragon Age, but I always imagine her in this general style of dress:
It has a lot going on, but it leaves her legs free to run, features a lot of folds where she might hide knives, and veils/shawls could be a good distraction if she needs to throw one in someone's face/over someone's head. Depending on the style of stays she's wearing and the fabric of the sleeves, she could still have a decent range of motion.
Now, modern AU Wen as I've written her so far is more of an infiltrator than she is in actual canon. So her style varies widely depending on the job, but I think in her down time she rocks the torn dark jeans/comfortable sneakers/inconspicuous t-shirt look and throws on a leather jacket if it's cold. Her goal is always to blend as much as possible, so I don't think she has an especially developed sense of fashion.
Maria Hawke
Maria is probably the one of my OCs with the strongest aesthetic preferences. Obviously, she favors crimson, so most of her formal clothes are that color. It eventually becomes kind of her signature thing, since she keeps getting invited to formal parties. There's the red dress, of course:
But she would also wear these:
(Carver teases her about this when she describes it to him, which is why he tells her she's vain all the time, but I think this is a somewhat calculated choice: if she looks like she belongs in Hightown, she has more social leverage than she might if her neighbors shunned her. There are people who actively benefit from her rubbing elbows with the rich, and if continuing to do so helps them, who is she to complain about the cost of a few dresses?)
When she's at home, I think she hangs out in her pajamas most of the time. Some kind of shift/robe thing is her go-to unless she expects company, at which point she switches to clothing of the minimum level of formality. She is a farmgirl at heart, and if she could get away with it I think she'd wear work clothes all the time. Alas, she cannot.
But I can see her hanging out in something like this if company is coming:
And I think she actually prefers the Champion-style armor if she's fighting. Robes are nice and all, but she has tripped on them in combat too many times to count. If she needs to dodge, it is better for all of them if she's not doing it by falling over. She didn't grow up in a circle, she grew up wearing trousers, and that's how she learned to fight. She never really adjusted to the robe/combat combo and she doesn't intend to.
I don't have a modern AU Maria! But I think she probably looks cute in the modern version of her casual look. The high-waisted bottoms/loose shirt combo fits her to a T, and I think she probably wears some version of peacoat/trench coat when she's chilly.
Various Lavellans:
Emma and Elowen preferred the armor on the left, while Salshira preferred the right (neither of these photos are mine):
But after Inquisition, I think their style diverges drastically. Emma definitely favors green and lavender, and she also prefers loose, comfortable clothes. I think if she has to dress up, she'll probably choose a fancier bodice or cape-style thing instead of investing in a whole new dress.
Elowen would stick with Dalish leggings and tunics. I don't see her wanting to be in any formal situations post-game, so that would work for her pretty well most of the time. If she has to wear human clothes, she prefers black and gold (occasionally grey) over a lot of color.
Salshira learned early that if people are talking about her clothes or something she's carrying, they aren't talking about her. If she has to be around people, she favors things with a lot of detail that she can describe at length. In general, autumn colors (orange/red/gold/brown) are her preference, but she does look striking in peacock colors and she knows it.
But when she's being casual, I think she dresses pretty similarly to Wen. She prefers the mobility of pants so she'd probably swap trousers for Dalish-style leggings instead.
Modern AU Emma is a professor, so I think she'd wear tailored coats, pants that are just formal enough, clunky doc martens-style shoes, and blousy shirts. For casual things, she'd wear soft sweaters and jeans until they were tattered and full of holes.
Modern AU Salshira works at a country bar. So she's in those gingham shirts, jeans, cowboy boots, and hat for work. She has a motorcycle, so she wears a lot of leather jackets outside of that (and a helmet when she rides, obviously, safety first), but I think she still wears the jeans/cowboy boots with that. Probably just trades out the gingham for something more comfortable.
I don't have a modern AU Elowen, but I can see her dressing in loose jeans and t-shirts most of the time.
I was also going to do Adahlena, but the clothing in that AU is so different that I didn't want to try right now haha.
#arianwen tabris#maria hawke#emmaera lavellan#elowen lavellan#salshira lavellan#ask response#maria is like a dress up doll to me#she gets the prettiest clothes
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7KPP Week 2022: Day 3
Because, at least in Jiyel, cut fruit is a love language and making food is a family bonding activity. Also known as: The moment all of Grenwold knew that Lyon was definitively a member of the family.
Yes, I am also confused by all of the fluff. WHO AM I?
Day Three - Food
Regardless of how long she has spent away, regardless of how long she has been moved into her new home, the rooms and passages of her parents’ manor at Grenwold will always be as familiar as the back of her hand. She smiles, weaving her way past servants, both recognized and new, with a nod, but does not stop, cannot stop, because she knows where she is needed. She knows in her very bones that every time she visits home without fail, the kitchens will be full of bustle and she will not—dare not—miss it.
Even before she enters the room, she can hear the chatter, the warm, rich tones of her mother, the quiet, deep baritone of her father, and she can picture them in her mind’s eye before she turns the corner, animated eyes and bright faces and light-fingered hands in constant motion, dusty with flour, creating rows and rows of neatly folded dumplings.
They look up when she enters but without a pause in their discussion, something about the moderate success of their tenants’ newest crop rotation, but she sees the open seat to Lady Hyacinth’s left, the pair of chopsticks and row of covered balls of dough, and for a moment, she finds that she cannot interject into the conversation, even if she wants to.
Instead, she settles into her seat, dodging floury smudges as she kisses her mother’s cheek, and picks up the rolling pin. The motion is half-remembered at first, the wrapper uneven and misshapen, formed by fingers now more used to holding a quill than culinary tools, but the rhythm is still there, comforting in its constance, in its timeless familiarity.
“A little lopsided there,” her father interrupts his discussion to comment, amusement dancing in the crinkles of his eyes, and she makes a face in response to his light laughter. “Looks like you need more practice.”
“Should we switch then?” she counters, and this too is familiar, the faux disappointment as he shakes his head, the fond exasperation as he passes over his own rolled out wrappers, each one a neat circle, without protest, and she relaxes as she settles into the folding process and the customary banter on the virtues of knowing how to roll out one’s own dough compared to the expediency of focusing on the part of the process that she is much more competent at, thank you very much.
For several long moments, it feels almost as though nothing has changed, until…
“Lia?”
“In here,” she calls, and it is only when Lyon enters the room and stops, sharp eyes examining her from head to foot, that she remembers the flour which always somehow, inevitably, covers her like powdered snow, and finds herself fighting a truly illogical urge to blush.
In contrast, her mother does not falter, wiping her hands on a towel before rising to her feet in a fluid motion. “Ah, Duke Lyon, I see you’ve found us. We’re making dumplings. Come and join us.”
Almost before she is even aware, another position has been set up to her left, her father passing over another set of chopsticks and dough in quick succession while her mother pulls over another chair, and it isn’t until he has folded himself into the seat beside her that she notices the hesitation in his movements, the way his gaze lingers on her hands as she tightly pleats the edges of another dumpling.
“Do you always make your own dumplings?”
She hums, reaching for another wrapper. “Typically, yes. Between making the filling and all of the folding, it is far more efficient for everyone to work together than for only a select few to make them for everyone.”
“And it has always been an excuse for everyone to sit down together.” Her father leans forward, though she rather suspects that it is less about reaching for the filling than it is to look around her toward her husband. “The experience itself provides an opportunity to come together as a family and spend time together.”
“Or, at least, a uniquely bonding experience that is different from sharing a meal or something else of that nature. It was something that I enjoyed doing with my parents, and something that we have passed down to Lia.” Her mother reaches for her own wrapper, holding it out, flat on her palm, as she meets Lyon’s gaze, warm and encouraging. “And to you, if you would like.”
It is an invitation, and even more than that, it is an acceptance, and if her smile is a little shaky as she watches him imitate her, the rest of her family are thankfully all much too distracted to notice.
#seven kingdoms: the princess problem#7KPP#Jiyel Scholar#Duke Lyon/Jiyel Scholar#Duke Lyon#7KPP Week 2022#awkward duke of my heart#otp: not intolerable#Lady Camellia of Jiyel#In retrospect this could also have worked for yesterday's prompt.#Wow look at all of this soft fluff I don't even know what is going on.#Tina writes stuff.
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Me again. Odd question. Of all the Ratchet & Clank games which one would you say has the weakest story? I barely remembered anything in All 4 One but it did give Dr Nefarious some development. Not saying it’s the weakest, I just forgot a lot of plot details. I’m just curious.
I like All 4 One's story, it's the only thing I can speak fondly on when it comes to that game. Nefarious working with our faves was a treat and Susie was adorable, I only wish the adventure was referenced in Rift Apart.
The reboot is below average, but its story is too boring to be mad about. Full Frontal Assault's story is pretty weak, especially when compared to All 4 One, since it's the shortest and didn't really have much going on because Zurgo was the main villain and Talwyn was cut from it for no reason, but in hindsight I guess she dodged a bullet LOL
But...let me just throw a wild one out there...Going Commando,,,,
Going Commando, as a main line game, has an extremely bad story. The Bad Corporation gets away with everything and it's treated like it's a good thing. Angela, who has been criticizing corporations the entire game behind the mask, suddenly ignores all of that once Fizzwidget is back. The big bad being Qwark is very in-your-face (which is fine), but even then, pinning all of Megacorp's misdeeds on Qwark when it's very clear that Megacorp has been doing so much shady stuff before he came into the picture is very weird?
If they acknowledged the hypocrisy it'd at least still be satire like "aha the corporation gets away with everything because it has a scapegoat to blame everything on" but it does not do that. Going Commando doesn't have a good ending and definitely doesn't criticize capitalism like everyone claims it does. We spend the whole game learning about all of the awful things Megacorp does, and there is no conclusion to that. None of it is uncovered for the public eye to see that Megacorp is bad. Ratchet doesn't question Fizzwidget about everything he learned. The characters just act like the real evil has been defeated and that Megacorp is ☆good☆ now that Captain Qwark is gone. And we never go back to Bogon Galaxy, so honestly, everything in Going Commando doesn't really matter in the long run. You could skip it and probably not miss much, unless Angela finally decides to come out from the rock she's been hiding under.
Going Commando isn't a bad game by any means but its story is very weak when you spend more than 5 seconds thinking about it. It also has just zero emotional beats and feels like you're going through the motions, but that's more of a nitpick from me. I'll say, the humor is pretty damn good, so it gets props for that. <3
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Notes from 3.4.24
I lived today and it was fine. Maybe it was more than fine, maybe this is what living is. Maybe the Earth orbiting around the Sun in a never-ending cycle, and the barrage of sleep-wake-sleep-wake, and endless script following, Maybe This Is All I've Got.
I was at a red traffic light yesterday and I keep thinking about this kid I saw. He must have been around 10 year old, with mussed-up brown hair and a broad face. As this single car zoomed past, I saw him with his head stuck out the window, enjoying the feel of the wind on his face. What struck me was his expression, because he looked high. To be honest, he might have had some kind of intellectual disability or something but regardless, this kid was high on life and it stuck out to me. His joyousness left behind a kind of scent trail, like after someone wearing strong perfume has left the room. The zap of energy leaving behind a wake. At that moment, I might have been a rock disturbed deeper and merged more thoroughly, into the sullen landscape of cars and road and soullessness. I didn't like it.
That moment felt like the start of something, and as reluctant as I am to admit it, it started before then and I was only just then realising it. I don't know what trajectory my life is heading in anymore and I haven't been wondering about it. Ok, I did a little. But today, I lived in the moment and I have a sneaking suspicion, or rather I know, that that was the point. I want to bury all this but in doing so, I walk straight into the palm of whatever this is. The truth, I guess. Time will tell. I think the reason why you sensed that she and I are parting somewhat energetically, of a sort, is because I used to talk to her more often, and now I don't anymore. Talking to her felt volatile (I think just from my end) and after awhile, low-vibe, because I was tired of feeling washed-out and re-imprinted with something new, time and time again, despite the purpose it served. I wanted to go my own way. I wanted to know things on my own. But I don't seem to have a choice in the matter, as if we aren't fingers on the same hand. As if we hadn't met for this one express reason. I still feel that it was a bit dodgy and unfortunate that this information wasn't divulged sooner through our own intel. But I said it myself not long ago, that I am the ninja that sneaks into the museum at night and changes all the pictures. I don't want to act shocked anymore. Any semblance of shock would be better described as simply the sudden appearance of goosebumps that one might get on their skin, when plunging into cold water. It's just a reaction on skin. The energy can change over night. Even though this information was probably procured some time ago, there is no time, right? It goes how we want it to go. Maybe we're adrenaline junkies. I've always felt there to be something rogue-ish about us.
Even as I write this I know what is happening. I can feel it, it is percolating through. I am accepting this. I do feel like I am 'here' more, whatever that means. I feel different but also the same, and definitely more powerful. I could slash someone's tires if they so much as looked at me wrong. I believe I have cracked too. I must have experienced that dream as your HS because it was also telling me, about me. Because our higher selves are intertwined. And I know that we are all one, so maybe it would be more accurate to say that our NPCs are intertwined, and the high selves leverage that, like some sweet poison and we lap it up. I dunno, I guess I'll speak for myself more than anything but I had that dream the day before we got notified of what is going on and now I feel that energy of that dream in waking life. It is trickling through.
More on that. So you know, whenever I get home, the dog is always barking at me and I will dodge it or walk by leaving a huge radius between it and I. But yesterday, I made all the motions of getting close and kicking it. I wouldn't really have done it, or maybe I would, I don't know. Mostly, I wanted to scare it away. And it was less about it, and more that I am a volcano and lava goes, where it goes. It was like your HS in the dream, I could feel this fight inside me but it wasn't born from hatred. It does not even come with like, the desire to live, even. I've pulled the sword from the stone and this is the part in the story where the hero, having roused his mind and might, is to wield that glory and embed it into the land itself, for the goodness of the realm. But the masks are off now. There is no world. I want to tear it all down. Blacksmiths make swords because they inherently know it is for destroying things. That's why they work in silence. They are whispering to the sword, begging for impunity. So now what? I am unleashed and Source did so in silence. Because it knew. There is no more tolerance for anything. Last week, my sister asked me to drive her and her boyfriend to the airport and I begrudgingly agreed. The story goes probably that I still resent her from the events of a few weeks ago and I despise that she asks me these things, knowing full well that I will do it. But beyond all that, I just didn't care. I just kept thinking to myself, Well I don't want to. And then the day of, she got it into her head somehow, that my mum had told her that I wasn't able to after all. But my mum never told her anything. I never said anything to my mum. My sister completely imagined a whole conversation. My dad ended up giving her some taxi vouchers he got for free from work. My mum ended up saying to me, Don't entertain it. It is the man's (her bf) job to take care of these things. What's the point of a man?
It feels like the world needs to submit to me or die. It will end up being both though, because the submitting won't be enough for me, it's just one stage, or shall I say, the last stage, before it takes one last breath and finally dies. I await that day. I do. Until then, I don't know. This energy is very strange. I deem it not applicable to 3D world building because I thought about getting a new job, a mortgage, getting a boyfriend, re-connecting with my friends, all of that, and the energy didn't want to siphon into those things. Into what then, I don't know. I don't care.
I'll keep writing here. Coming back here has been very necessary for me because it's very much a part of Maybe This Is All I've Got. At least we're in this together. Sometimes it feels like you mostly exist within my subconscious. Our experiences of each other seem so abstract yet vivid, like you're the narrator inside my head that I forgot was there. I just don't think this is the end. Not yet.
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