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beforeimdeceased · 1 month

Note

I would love an ellie x reader x abby fic, something super smutty, but modern day. I don’t mind unique details, I will give your free reign on those I just want something powerbottom abby x masc top ellie.

click me!

um okay. so this is actually so unnecessarily long like why did i do that also it’s terrible please don’t beat me up okay :( it’s um definitely something guys if u hate it i’ll delete it I SWEAR I SWEAR

inexperienced!lesbian (me asf) reader x ellabs, reader orgasm, lowkey mean ellabs but ignore that, i didn’t even do the request properly everyone throw tomatoes at me :(

2k words!

nsfw!

‧₊˚ 🎐✩ 🫧 ₊˚⊹♡

The time on your phone flashed 11pm, and underneath it was a flash flood weather warning. You had been watching the news closely and carefully, but even they didn’t predict this.

“I thought they said it would clear up around 10.” Ellie joins you on the couch, a bag of fruit gummies in her hand. You nod, but don’t take your eyes off of your phone. “That’s what i thought too. I don’t know, maybe I can make it home before it gets too bad.”

Just as the words leave your mouth, Abby walks back into the living room. She rips a piece of paper towel off of the stand in the kitchen, drying her hands. “Or you could spend the night here and not end up swimming home.”

Ellie snort laughs but you bite your lip. “I don’t want to intrude. Suddenly having someone else in your private space for longer than planned? Sounds overstimulating.”

Abby joins the both of you in the living room, a bottle of water in hand. She plops herself down on the loveseat, manspreading and leaning back. You feel a knot twist in your stomach. “I don’t mind having you here for longer. Els?”

Ellie tosses a gummy in her mouth before responding. “You’re a pleasure to be around.”

Abby and Ellie wanted to ease your nerves a bit, and proposed a game of two truths and a lie. Fairly simple, you tell a person two truths and one lie about yourself and they have to guess the lie. A half hour had passed and you felt yourself loosening up around them. Laughing at how ridiculous they were being.

“No, i swear it’s the truth. I shook hands with him and everything.” Ellie holds her hands up innocently, insisting she didn’t lie.

Abby shakes her head, bringing a hand up to rub her temples. “Ellie, you did not meet a robot at the grocery store. That man was probably lying to you for fun, or some social experiment.”

You giggle, watching as Ellie put a gummy to her tongue to wet it, then throws it at Abby. “Youre a jerk.”

Suddenly, Abby has lifted herself from her seat and is tickling Ellie’s sides. All of you have burst into laughter, tears rolling down your cheeks at their dynamic.

After Abby’s satisfied with herself, she lets up on Ellie, joining you both on the couch. “Okay, your turn.” Abby looks over at you, placing one of Ellie’s gummies in her mouth.

You take a moment to think of something clever, biting your lip. “Hm.”

“Okay I got it!” You exclaim.

The girls grant you their undivided attention, anticipating your answers. “Okay, so. I’m bilingual. I’m allergic to certain coins and, i’ve never been kissed.”

The two look over at each other, confusion all over their faces. “Fuck.” Ellie leans back. “I’m gonna have to say you’re lying about the coins.”

Abby shakes her head, shooting Ellie a side eye. “Seriously? The last one is obviously a lie, I mean look at her.” You feel yourself growing shy at her statement. “You guys sure about your answers?” You smile, raising your eyebrows.

They both nod, creepily at the same time, and it makes you laugh before your reveal. “I’m not bilingual! English is the only language i speak fluently, but i have been taking some Swedish lessons.”

Ellie bobs her head. “Shit, that’s cool. So wait, what coins are you allergic to?”

You don’t even get the chance to answer before Abby chimes up. “Wait, you’ve never been kissed?” She stares at you, bewildered. “Seriously?”

You nod. “I’m pretty inexperienced. I ofcourse, don’t like men, and I came out pretty late so…” You trail.

You can actually see the devious gears turn in Ellie’s mind. She looks over at Abby and it’s as if they’re communicating with their minds. You wonder for a moment if people truly do have powers, because it seems they came to a very silent agreement just now.

“Abby’s a wonderful kisser.” Ellie blurts out, smiling at the blonde. “And a pretty damn good teacher.”

Maybe they didn’t agree on everything, because after that statement Abby shot Ellie a look that could kill. Ellie just laughed it off, lovingly tapping her shoulder.

“Oh.” You whisper nervously, unsure how to respond. Truthfully, you had been admiring the two of them ever since you’d met them. You were so eager to visit their apartment tonight, making sure to spray on your best perfume. Wearing a cute new outfit that was casual but not loungey. Planning it on a day where you knew the weather would be bad, all with the hope that you’d get to spend the night.

You were also nervous, and inexperienced in this department. What if you fucked it all up?

“I’m sorry if we’ve made you uncomfortable.” Abby chimes up, noticing your body language. You were fiddling with your hands, avoiding their gaze. “I’ll make Ellie sleep in the old doghouse outside if that’d make you feel better.”

You giggle as Ellie hits Abby’s shoulder. “Hey, not out in the rain. Maybe in the closet in the hallway.”

“Oh, you’re going back in the closet?” Abby laughs which causes Ellie to roll her eyes. You watch them stick their tongues out at each other and feel warmth in their friendship.

“You guys didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just didn’t know what to say.” You blurt. The two of them stop goofing and look over at you. Ellie’s got a smug face. “Do you want Abby to teach you how to kiss?”

Butterflies, a swarm of them, rush to your stomach. You try not to look her up and down but your eyes betray you. Soaking in Abby’s tall muscular figure. The way her legs are spread open and wide like she’s daring you to sit in between them. Her blue eyes burning holes into your skin. Anticipating your answer. You bite your lip. “Yes.”

Abby remains composed, but Ellie’s enjoying herself way too much. Moving to the loveseat so that you and Abby can have the couch to yourselves. She looks at both of you, then at you, then at Abby, then at you again. “Wait, do you want me to go-?“

“No.” You say, a little faster than you mean to. “I mean, you don’t have to leave, if you don’t want to.”

Abbys only focused on you now. Eyeing you up and down as you scoot closer to her. “Here, get comfortable. Straddle me.”

You know Ellie’s looking. You can feel her piercing eyes on your spine. Watching your every move, examining you from behind. “Straddle?” You ask, a bit unsure. You’d read the word in a couple books, but never looked up the definition. You realized that was damning you now. Fucking up this very moment.

“Sit on my lap, facing me.” Abby guides you. “Put your legs outside my legs.”

So this was the tummy turning move you’d seen in porn. It felt as good as you’d imagined it would. Your hands latch onto Abby’s shoulders, looking into her pretty blue eyes.

“You okay?” She asks, hands gripping onto your waist to steady you. Her fingers are brushing against the skin underneath the hem of your shirt and the contact is driving you crazy. You just nod, too afraid to open your mouth, knowing your words will spill out. You’re everything but composed right now.

“Okay. Just let me know if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable.” She smiles.

You nod again, and establish an understanding. She moves a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in, and places a soft peck on your lips. Truthfully, it wasn’t all that exciting but it sent jolts and waves of pleasure through your body. Your first kiss. She pulls away and smiles at you. “How was that?”

“Great- good. Grood.” You stammer. She chuckles a bit and you feel hot with embarrassment. “I meant to say- Fuck i don’t even know.”

She rubs at your sides, licking her lips and looking at you with low eyes. “Don’t worry about it, alright? You ready for more?”

“Yeah.” you breathe, head growing fuzzy from her touch. Her fucking touch, fuck. Gentle, but firm. Guiding you so carefully. So kindly.

“Okay. Open your mouth a little bit.” She whispers inches away from your face. “Yeah, just like that.”

You feel like you’re about to melt, a moan stuck in your throat, swallowed by the blonde. Her lips meshing with yours, guiding the kiss. The hand on your hip gripping tighter. She thrusts a bit, attempting to pull you in closer, and you whine into her mouth. This causes her to dig her nails into your skin, scratching at the tender surface.

By now, you’d forgotten Ellie was still in the room. You’d forgotten where you were, actually. Completely lost in a state of bliss. Her tongue on yours, teeth nibbling at your lip, touch making you weak.

She pulls away for air, and you remain leaning forward. Missing her lips on yours.

“Someone’s eager.” She teases. You bite your lip, scratching your nails on her scalp. “Sorry.” you breathe in a low voice. She shakes her head, tutting and rubbing your cheek. “Don’t apologize, it’s cute.”

Abby calls Ellie over, and you can feel her dip into the couch next to you both. Her cheeks are a flushed red and her eyes look fixated on you.

“Where are you the most sensitive?” Abby asks, shooting a small smile to Ellie.

“Why don’t we let me find out? Is that okay?” Ellie asks. You nod, breath growing heavy. There’s no fucking way this is real, you’re dreaming. You have to be. These two are working together to get you worked up.

You can sense Ellie behind you before you feel her hand slide under your neck. Fingertips on your chin, leaning your head to the side. She places a kiss behind your ear and it makes you shudder. “Fuck.”

They both laugh. This evil, menacing, condescending laugh and it’s making your thighs clench on Abby’s legs. “Ellie, you’re teasing the poor thing. She can’t handle it.” Abby places her hands on your thighs, spreading them apart as they were before.

“She can handle anything we give her, right?” Ellie’s moving her lips further down now. Trailing hot wet kisses down your neck, hands sliding up to grab your breasts through your shirt. You throw your head back, a soft whine escaping your lips.

“She’s so sensitive because she’s never been touched. Bet we can make her come without ever having to take her clothes off.” Abby’s hands begin sliding up and down your inner thighs. You feel a wetness pool in your underwear. “You’re probably right Abs. She’s already so worked up and we’ve barely done anything.”

Are they…mocking you? They’re fucking mocking you.

Ellie hums against your neck, hands slipping down to your leg, making you straddle Abby’s thigh. Abby places her hands back on your waist, hiking up your leg and making you grind against her.

You whine, head falling back against Ellie’s shoulder, but she offers no comfort or sanctuary. Hands kneading your tits while she leaves wet kisses on your jaw. “She’s probably soaked right now.” Ellie breathes.

Abby nods, admiring the way you give into their touch. So willing to be their fucktoy. She looks down at your crotch and hums. “She’s got a wet spot on her pants.”

“Such a shame. They look brand new. Now you’ve made a mess of yourself.”

It’s embarrassing to admit it, but you’re close now. The way your slick has covered your panties and is spreading all over your clit, Abby’s hands on your waist grinding you against her, Ellie’s mouth on you. Her hands on you. The way they’re talking about you like you’re not even there.

“I’m gonna-“ Can barely leave you lips before your climax hits you. You shake, dig your nails into Abby’s shoulder. Cry out an “Oh god, fuck!” and roll your eyes back as they help you ride your high.

Your body goes limp while you try to catch your breath. Everything is sensitive and you feel like you’d just seen stars.

“You did so good, baby.” Abby leans in to kiss you, and then Ellie behind you. “Ready for round two?”

Round what?

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stinmybubs · 14 days

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"I Want you Pt.2" NSFW

AN: Hi hi!! Thank you all so so much for the love on my last post, this one was planned out a tiny bit more but tbh I just want to skip to the sex at one point sooo Teehee. (I also decided to spell his name with the gou lol.)

18+!! Please Minors DNI! Please and thank you! I’m not too good at drawing sex scenes tbh! So I hope this’ll be okay I’ll practice more!

AFAB! Reader x Bakugou Katsuki

Warnings!!: Degrading!! LONGER THAN PT.1

Pt. 1 here!

Bakugou was livid. Not only was every other boy in the class able to get a peek at your ass, but you keep purposely putting yourself out there for everyone to see. Of course he didn’t want anyone to look at what he wanted. What was his. But of course, you weren’t his yet though.

Bakugou found the best way to punish you, to tease back. Maybe leave some soft touches on your body here and there, getting you to want him, crave him, and only think of him.

So, as the time passed in the gym he plotted how he was going to go about this without being caught by everyone else. But seems fate had something in store for the two of you, because you could have perfect timing.

“Fuck I need more water…” you groaned, begging for time to go faster. As you grabbed your water bottle your good friend Uraraka waved to you, quickly walking over to you with her beautiful smile on her face.

“Where ya goin? We have like 20 more minutes.” The wide eyed girl asked, curiously looking at you.

“Well, I need more water if I’m gonna survive anymore of this…or I’ll pass the fuck out.” You say, wiping your forehead with your towel as the girl chatted it up with you before letting you go refill your water.

As you make your way out the hall and to the water fountain, you can’t help but think about how sexy Bakugou looked working out. His skin glistening perfectly on his muscles, oh and the way his pecs just looked so perfect, the way he would lift up his shirt from time to time to reveal his abs. Oh god. He was so hot.

You thought about how his rough hands would feel on your body. How’s he would grab you by the waist, he honestly could easily pick you up without and issue. You gulp as you put the water bottle underneath the faucet of the water fountain. Not realizing how you were rubbing your thighs together and your breathing became uneven.

“Whatcha’ thinkin’ of? Hm?”

The voice made your heart sink. Feeling a sudden weight behind you, his hands grabbing the water fountain to trap you in front of him.

“N-nothing… I’m just thinking how long the workout out is!” You pant, your heart racing as he pressed against your back.

“Really? That’s all? Cuz yer sure was showin off a ton back there..” he leaned in to your ear, the feeling of his breath on your neck and ears made you shudder.

“I-…I don’t know what you mean Bakugou.” You try your best to keep yourself together. Oh how you wanted to just melt underneath him and let him take you right then and there.

“Hm…you think I don’t notice? Yer’ little stares? Ya’ pathetic attempts at teasing me?” He puts the thin skin of the tip of your ear between his teeth, nibbling it slightly. You let out a small whimper, omg. It’s finally happening! You shut your eyes prepared anticipating his next move.

Nothing. As hot as his pressure was, you didn’t realize he was gone. What the fuck? Was I imagining or was that real? Am I going crazy over this man? You panic internally realizing how hot your body was. Fuck, i gotta go home. With that you did not care if you all had 20 minutes left on the clock, you were all hot and bothered and needed some relief.

“Fuck…” you quickly fidget with your keys, trying to get your room door open. “Why isn’t it working?” You hiss, taking the keys out to examen them. Wrong key. You accidentally grabbed the nearest key next to your water bottle instead of your own. The worst part is. It was Bakugou’s keys.

“Oh my god, you got to be kidding me…” your heart began to race, thinking of your last interaction with the guy.

“Oi. You got something that’s mine.” The familiar voice seen shivers up your spine, your heart dropping as you turned around to look at the blonde. “Haha…seems I do” you awkwardly laugh, watching him walk over to you, he had a towel wrapped around his neck with one hand holding one side and behold his other hand. A key.

“And I’m guessing that’s my key?” You point to the key in his hand. He nods, a small smirk entering I face. Oh how handsome he was up close. You couldn’t help but stare at his face, it’s like you were entranced for a moment, watching a bead of sweat drip down his face and off his chin. Oh how you saw his grin grow wider.

“Quite ya’ starin.” He uses his free hand that was once holding his towel to flick your forehead.

“Ow, sorry! Sorry…may I have my key back?” You looked back him, making eye contact for a split second before he made a ‘hm’ noise. His body shifted closer to you, pressing your back against your dorm door. The dangled the key over your head as he leaned one arm against the door.

“Come earn ya’ keys back pretty.” He once again flicked your forehead, grabbing his own keys out your loose hands and walked away.

You were freaking I out. What did he mean? Why did he do that? What the FUCK is going on? So many question filled your flustered head. Omg, omg omg, omg!! Your face burning red.

Katsuki waited patiently in his room, leaning against his own bed, staring at the keys he had in front of him. You were taking fucking forever, all that teasing and no guts to back it up made him snicker.

Knock knock

Finally. Opening the door to see you standing there, your face all flushed red. Cute. He thought, letting you into his dorm, grabbing your keys and throwing them somewhere.

“What took ya’ so long? Fucking thought you pussied out of wanting me.” He grabbed your face, making you look into his eyes. “I uh…was nervous?” You questioningly stated. Your heart racing. His room smelt so good.

"So uh...how do I earn my keys back Bakugou?" You nervously asked as he let your face go, blushing at how big his hands were. The boy hadn't answered you yet, but oh you got your answer when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to him.

"B...Bakugou? Why-" you were cut off by Bakugou pressing his lips onto yours, moving the hand that was on your wrist to your waste to pull your body closer to him and the other pressing your head deeper into the kiss.

You were in shock, your eyes wide making eye contact with katsuki. Soon you melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Fuck. You never knew kissing could feel so good, it got hot so fast it felt like the room was on fire. Your kiss with bakugou soon became sloppy as he effortlessly picked you up by the waist, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist as he moved you over to his bed.

Katsuki released himself from the kiss, you let out a small whine because the kiss felt so fucking good you never wanted it to stop. questingly looking up at him, you noticed that devilish smirk on his face. "Wha-AT" You squealed as he tossed you onto his bed.

"What the fuck Bakugou!?" You shout, super confused on what's going on. Trying to sit up you feel your legs being grabbed and pried open by his hands. "W-Wait!" You shout, trying to stop him from removing your shorts.

"I-...I haven't showered yet I might stink." You shyly try to close your legs back up but he was just too strong, keeping them open. "I don't care. And stop calling me Bakugou...ya' know what we're about to do and ya' still keep saying the wrong name. It's Katsuki." He gently slapped your hand away from you trying to remove his hands.

You gulp, completely surrendering yourself to his will, watching as he slowly removed your shorts. you could already feel how wet you were through your own panties and were extremely embarrassed because you knew he was gonna tease you about this.

"Wow...this we for me? Or was it when ya' decided to give the whole class a show hm..? " The feeling of of one of his fingers pressing against your soaked panties, at this point the panties didn't even matter, you felt how he rubbed his fingers against you fold causing you to let out a small moan.

Katsuki couldn't wait any longer, all the teasing and the thoughts he had of you all building up to this moment. Fuck you looked so hot laying on his bed, face all flushed and completely surrendered to him.

Katsuki removed you panties effortlessly, tossing them aside not caring where they landed, fuck. This is really happening. You felt Katsuki’s fingers slowly slip into you, your slick already making wet noises which made you really embarrassed.

Katsuki watched you, he watched as your body convulsed and your face contort as his fingers moved in and out of your pussy.

“K-…Katsu please.” You look at him with pleading eyes, his fingers felt so good, but of course you wanted more. And you knew he wanted more too. “Ya’ want me that bad huh?” He chuckled leaning himself further between your legs, his fingers still doing their job as his face got closer to yours.

“Why should I give a slut like you my dick?” He questioned, you barley able to answer him over the feeling of his thick, touch fingers pounding into your pussy. “C-cuz…please?” You beg, your eyes slightly welling up with tears of desperation. You’ve never felt so hot and needy in your life.

Katsuki hummed at your expression, he could feel his cock throbbing in his pants, his mind being clouded with lust. Finally having you laying in his bed, it felt like a dream.

Katsuki removed his sweatpants and boxers swiftly, ready to feel you. Of course he couldn’t think properly, not even caring to get a condom…not like he had one in the first place, him being a virgin. He was simply acting on instinct and desire.

You try your best to brace yourself, trying to get a peak at his dick. You couldn’t really due to his tank top dropping a bit far where you could only make out a bit of it, and boy was he bigger than you thought he would be.

His dick wasn’t huge, it was the perfect size about 6.5-7 inches and hell was he pretty girthy. This made your anxiety peak a little. Will that hurt? Well the only thing that’s been inside your body until this moment has been your fingers. So yeah pretty sure it’s gonna hurt.

“Look at me.” You heard the blonde boy growl, one of his free hands forcing you to look up at him, making eye contact the whole time he slowly put in his dick.

“Ah..! Katsu-…it hurts!” You hiss in pain, feeling his dick stretch out your walls. He simply groaned, stopping a little bit to make sure you adjust to him. “Fuck.” Katsuki leaned in to kiss you, trying to help distract you from the pain as he slid the rest of his dick inside you.

You moan into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you felt even more pain writhe throughout your body. Soon the pain easing into a more pleasurable feeling. Oh you felt so full.

“Kats..!” You separate the kiss, leaving a string of saliva from one another’s lips. “You can…you can move” you struggle to say. Katsuki didn’t waste anytime, slowly he started moving his hips. He was trying his best to hold himself back, but you were so fucking tight and he just wanted to ravage you.

Slowly his thrusts became faster, leaving you a moaning mess as your vision became a bit blurred. Oh how you didn’t regret teasing Katsuki at all if it all means he wanted you this badly as well.

“Fuck!” Katsuki exclaimed looking back into your blurred eyes, loving how pathetic you looked underneath him. “Ya’ look like a whore.” Katsuki’s comment made you feel something, you never thought you’d like anything like that but his comment turned you on even more.

“Ya’ like that huh? Like being called a fucking whore and slut.” You gulp, nodding your head profusely as he kept fucking your pussy.

“Katsu…please! More!” You beg, you couldn’t help but give up your own will because you just felt so good. “Beggin like a fucking whore…ya’ so fuckin perfect for me.” Bakugou kissed you, a rough and sloppy kiss.

You felt like a fucking pornstar as you stared at the ceiling when he kissed you, feeling closer and closer towards your climax. Fuck…thought I’d last longer. You admitted to yourself.

Immediately you remove yourself from the kiss, letting out pathetic moans, “gonna…cum!~” you shout, wrapping your legs around his waist trying to trap his dick inside you.

“Fuckin cum ya’ slut.” Throwing your head back in pleasure, you could feel your legs violently shake as you finally came. Katsuki stopped, looking at your pathetic state and with a lick of his lips he lifted one of your legs over his shoulders.

“Wh…what…?” You question, barley able lift your head to see what he’s doing.

“I haven’t cum yet…” he gave you his signature smirk.

Oh fuck. You were in for a long night.

AN: This took me a lot longer to complete than I liked it to. I got stuck at the sex scene because I just forgot how to write it. So I’m trying to practice on smut again! I hope you all enjoyed it I am sick rn so I will proof read this later! Thank you so much for all the love!! Xoxo Stinmybubs.

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #mha x reader #bakugou headcanons #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x y/n #bakugou katsuki

194 notes · View notes

benkeibear · 9 months

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⋆꙳✧༄ Pegging them

❖ Characters: Bachira, Reo, Barou

❖ Reader: female

❖ Wordcount: 2.5k

❖ Summary: You're pegging them for the first time

❖ WARNINGS: dom!reader, anal fingering, pegging, usage of buttplugs, praising, handjobs, mentions of masturbation, overstimulation, slight dacryphilia

❖ A/n: this idea was born in a chat with @crybabylisa and enabled by @mrskenmakozume and @deskaisers kinda hating and loving you guys for this 🫶

☰ Bachira:

Bachira wasn't shy when it came to what feels good and what he wants to try out with you, his endless stamina making it hard to get all powered out before his cock got too sensitive to touch. It took you by surprise when he suggested trying out anal play but you would never judge him, agreeing to it if he guided you through it by telling you exactly what he wanted you to do. His sweet grin grew even wider when he reached into his bag and pulled some toys out, a bashful expression on his face “good because I already got all this on the way home” he admitted sheepish, letting you look through the array of butt plugs, lube and different sized straps. It was clear by his expression that he was excited to get started, not wanting to wait any longer since buying all of this got him rock hard and aching for your touch already.

More than eager Bachira leaped into your lap, his neediness clear in the way he kissed you and when he started rutting into your hand, making you stroke his cock over his pants until he was whimpering into the kiss, your touch too much but not enough as he quickly undressed himself and got onto all fours. The surprise was written all over your face when you saw a glittering stone sitting snug between his cheeks, the blush creeping onto his face “couldn't wait…” he admitted sheepish, giving his leaking dick a few desperate strokes as you regain your composure, adoring his neediness. Your lover whined when you gently tucked on the buttplug, pulling it out just to stuff it back in with a smirk on your face “you're even more sensitive there, hm?” You teased when he nodded helplessly as you removed the plug from his puckered hole, watching it gape slightly before applying some more lube to his already glistening hole, two of your fingers slowly slipping in to massage his insides which made him hold onto the sheets tightly. “So good… always dreamed of you doing it for me” he whined, admitting to fingering himself from time to time when he's touching himself. “Is that so, bumblebee?” You ask with a grin, the pads of your finger finding his prostate, letting him see stars “yes! Yes! Gonna cum! G-gonna-” he started thrusting his hips against your hand, angrily fisting his cock when you picked up the pace, massaging his prostate. Bachira moaned and whined when his orgasm rippled through his body, hot cum painting the bedsheets white as his thighs started to shake from the intensity.

Slowly you removed your fingers and pressed a kiss to the dimple on his lower back “you're so sensitive, Bumblebee” you mused and let your hands caress his shaking thighs, your nails raking over his delicate skin when you saw how hard he was even after he just came, his hole clenching and aching to be filled once again. “Strap. The strap” he babbled, his head barely able to form a sentence, the high of his orgasm still lingering on his mind like a curtain of fog. Bachira barely had the strength to help you put the strap on, the dildo quite big but he wanted it, lubing it up with eager hands before throwing his body onto the back, his thighs pressed to his chest ao you could easily line yourself up. “And you're sure?” You asked once more, the toy appearing so big when you wrapped your hand around it to push it inside of your waiting boyfriend who nodded eager “yes please fuck me… I need you, flower” he whined, already palming himself in anticipation when he felt the tip nudge past the tight ring of muscles. With each inch that disappeared inside of him, his whines got louder and more desperate, his hands digging into his thighs which left crescent dents in his skin.

Precum smeared onto his abs when you pushed the last inch into him, stilling your movements entirely until you felt him rocking upwards, allowing you to start off slow. The feeling of a dildo inside of him was a foreign feeling but the way his eyes crossed and he whined for more and more reassured you that he was into it, screaming and crying out in pleasure when he finally convinced you to pound into him, spurts of cum shooting over his abs and chest as you milked his prostate yet another time, ready to slow down but bachira eagerly pulled you down to kiss you hungrily. “Please flower. More” he whimpered, already overstimulated from the attention you gave him but he enjoyed it far too much to risk you pulling out now. Bachira was entirely drunk on the feeling of getting pegged, begging for you when the tears streamed over his face as yet another orgasm shook his body, the cum flowing over your hand as you continued to jerk him off, the strap deep inside of him.

☰ Reo:

Reo didn't even know what a strap really was, never having looked into that kind of stuff before but while he helped you sorting out your closet he came across your toy box, holding up the strap which made you throw the shirt you were currently holding into his face so you can take it away from him. He knew you had partners before him but his newest discovery left him curious. From time to time he liked to use a vibrator on you, he even teased you relentlessly with a buttplug and that's when it dawned on him what the device he just held in his hands was for, a blush spreading on his cheeks when even you realized that he knows. It was his conversation topic number one for weeks on end, asking you all sorts of questions until you caved in “if you want me to peg you, just say so, Reo” you sighed, hating how he was beating around the bush but truth be told, he wasn't even sure if that's what he wanted. You eased him into it slowly, starting to introduce the idea of anal play whenever you two got intimate, wanting him to find out like this if it's something he likes. The only rule he had was that everything you do to him, he would be allowed to do with you as well which you were unsure about at first but agreed, finding it reasonable. Your boyfriend always had his focus on your pleasure before him so he would never do something that doesn't leave you screaming his name in ecstasy, wondering where his bratty ass learned to eat you out like this.

Reo’s pretty eyes were brimming with tears when your circled your tongue over his puckered hole before leaving a generous amount of spit there only to rub it in with your thumb, earning the prettiest moans from him. He kneeled in front of your full body mirror, allowing you to watch his face when you played with his behind. The pink tint on his cheeks didn't seem to leave when he looked at his reflection, an image of a whiney brat looking back at him which made him blush even more. “Do you want to watch them slip in, pretty boy?” You asked with a warm smile, the tip of your middle finger pushing past the ring of muscles to let him know what you meant and he nodded softly. “Use your words” you warned him, pulling away to signal that he will lose your touch without verbal consent “yes please” his voice came out more like a squeal before he turned around. Reo looked over his shoulder into the mirror, seeing how you spread his cheeks with utmost care before pushing one, then two lubed fingers into his tight hole, his eyes threatening to roll back from the pleasure he felt right away. The first time you fingered him it was almost painful but the more you did it, the faster his cock twitched, aching to be touched and now he was a moaning mess just from feeling them slip into his tight hole. “I think I'm ready today” he moaned out, eagerly spreading his own cheeks to get a better view of your fingers sinking into his hole repeatedly. “You sure, baby boy?” You asked curious to which he nodded “absolutely” he reassured you, knowing you want to hear him say it.

His butt was gaping ever so slightly when you pulled your slick fingers out, his hands still spreading his cheeks apart. The absence of your fingers were mourned with a whine full of desperation but you didn't make him wait much longer to be filled and stretched further than ever before. The strap was quickly secured and you moved him around to watch his face in the mirror once more, his hips prepped up on two pillows. “Next time I'll make you suck it and beg for this” you teased him with a smirk, the purple tip of the dildo nudging against his puckered hole, letting him feel the slight vibration which came on your end, moaning softly as the base made sure to tease your clit perfectly with its vibrations. Reo’s eyes widened when it slipped inside of him so easily, seeing your proud smile in the reflection of the mirror. “You're taking me so well, pretty boy. So eager” you praised before holding onto his hips tightly, gently grinding into him to get him used to being so full. His entire body went limp when you brushed his prostate for the first time, aching cock grinding against the pillow beneath which almost tipped him over the edge right away. His jaw went slack as desperate moans left his sweet lips, having to watch himself getting fucked in the mirror and god he looked so pathetic like this. Your hips remained a steady and slow rhythm that stole his breath, his lungs feeling so empty yet so full with air. Was he drowning in pleasure? He wondered, his orgasm building with the way you rocked into him, feeling the soft vibrations against his prostate and hearing your beauty moans. Your gentle fingers were sure to leave bruises as you came undone, shuddering as you tried to plow into him, the slow pace getting more erratic when you started to feel overstimulated, juices running down your legs from the sweet noises your lover made, humping the pillow beneath him as he came undone, crying out your name as he tried to pull your strap deeper inside of him.

☰ Barou:

Barou didn't want to agree to your proposal, wishing to rip your head off for even requesting something like…this. But he also promised you that he's open to everything and willing to try everything at least once so maybe it could feel nice? You could see how he was fighting himself over a simple question and decided to let it rest to not trouble him any further. He was so sure that it couldn't feel this good, having his poor back entrance spread open and left gaping but he remembered the way you were reduced to a drooling mess when he pounded into your puckered hole, fingers buried in your dripping cunt… so maybe? Before realizing it he reached out to hold onto your wrist “let's do it. One single time and we never speak of it again” he said through gritted teeth and you gave him a look “Sho, we don't need to if you don't-” you couldn't finish your sentence before he interrupted you “I said we do it” he growled, knowing you wouldn't force him into anything he didn't want. His lips found yours in an angry kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth uninvited and with such force it almost knocked the breath out of your lungs. Your gentle hands found their way into his hair before pulling him off of you harshly “just stop being such a brute for once” you hissed and bent him over the edge of the bed and he surprisingly let you. His muscles ripped beneath your touch like an ever lasting earthquake when you raked your nails over his broad back, wanting to see how much he will take before snapping.

All it took for him to hold your wrist in an iron grip was your middle finger slipping into his lubed hole “don't you dare doing that” he growled, brows furrowed in anger which left you confused. “Sho, I need to prep you, it will hurt otherwise” you tried to reason, your finger slowly retreating from his puckered hole when his jaw clenched up “i don't care. We only do it once anyways” words spitting out of him like venom and if you didn't knew it any better you wouldn't go any further with him but he insisted on trying it out once despite his body tensing at every touch on his backside. A long sigh fell from your lips when you applied lube to the strap that was already tightly secured to your hips, fearing that the sight of it was what made him so nervous. Barou remained unmoving, still bent over the edge of the bed, his cock rubbing against the outside of the cold frame when you applied more lube to his puckered hole just to be sure.

Your lovers knuckles went white from how hard he gripped onto the sheets, only the tip of the relatively small dildo lodged between his cheeks “just- push it in at once” he hissed through gritted teeth, the pain driving him insane as you did what he asked you for. The foreign feeling of being full and split in half left his head spinning and his mind racing “h-hah” a single strained moan leaving his lips when you shifted your weight, barely moving. After what felt like an eternity he nodded, giving you the permission to start moving to which you obeyed, gentle thrusts against his sore hole left him sweating, black hair sticking to his forehead. “Shh it's okay Shoei… let me help you” you mumbled before kissing his muscled back. Barou couldn't ask what you meant, feeling his favorite fleshlight wrap around his cock like a perfect sleeve, a loud moan escaping it. “That's it. Now keep thrusting, baby” you encouraged him, making him fuck the toy while simultaneously fucking himself with the strap, leaving his mind torn to pieces before only pushing back against you, the pleasure winning him over as you too started moving now. Drool leaked onto the clean sheets beneath him as he moaned, low rumbles roaring from his chest when he fucked back with such an intensity that almost knocked you off, making you pound him harder and harder until he was screaming your name, his cum coating the bedframe as you continued to milk his prostate with the strap and his cock with the fleshlight, driving him into overstimulation but you needed to hear him whine just once since he never experienced an orgasms this intense. Maybe you were right and this feels good… maybe he would come back to it again.

Networks: @enchantedforest-network @themovingcastlez @planetonet

#blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock x female reader #bachira x reader #reo x reader #barou x reader #bachira smut #reo smut #barou smut #bllk x reader #bllk smut #bllk bachira #bachira meguru #bllk reo #reo mikage #bllk barou #shoei barou

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starlightshadowsworld · 4 months

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The Sheep King and his Demon AU

Aka Bsd except Chuuya doesn't join the Port Mafia.

Not technically canon to this... Butt what if Dazai joined the Sheep.

Basically the whole operation of setting members of the Sheep free, takes a lot longer than anticipated.

And so Dazai is sort of taken hostage by the Sheep until their hostages are released.

I say sort of because Dazai offered himself up as a hostage.

He's curious, he wants to know about this gang of teenagers that causes such havoc for the Port Mafia.

Especially their king.

The Sheep hold a meeting and they agree.

Dazai is suprised by his treatment, sure he and Chuuya argue constantly and he can piss off anyone without even trying.

But they treat him like they treat each other.

At first Dazai assumed they were lax about security because he came willingly. Or they were just that overconfident.

But he realises that's not the case at all.

Sure they keep an eye on him, mostly Chuuya. But he's not restricted to their base, just warned against going further into Suribachi city.

Obviously, Dazai doesn't because that sounds like more trouble than its worth.

But he's not handcuffed or kept in a makeshift cell. He's allowed to roam around the base and the surrounding area with a Sheep member keeping an eye on him.

Their all well aware of who he is, and have procedures and an agreed upon plan if things go south.

But for the most part, Dazai is treated like one of them.

Like, Yuan takes food inventory. She calculates how much they've got, rations the food as fair as she can.

So Dazai is suprised when a can of crab is handed to him every so often.

Because no one else eats crab, he's the only one. And Yuan goes out of her way to get him it so he'll have something to eat.

He wonders if it's to keep him on their good side, but it's not the case. Because Yuan tries to grab the others food that they love, it's not always possible but she tries.

None of the others comment about it, some joke about him eating crab of all things but leave it there.

They never force him to eat with them but the door is always open.

"Thanks for the crab."

"Hm? Oh your welcome."

Shirase is a strategiest, which suprised Dazai given their first meeting.

But apparently when he's not blinded by emotions, he's a lot more calculating and smart.

Dazai's offered to help when he's seen Shirase scheming a heist against a shipment heading into Port Mafia terrority.

"You... Want to help us steal from your people?"

"Why not?"

Shirase just stared at him for a moment before snorting, moving to sit beside him.

Showing his notebook and filling Dazai in what was happening.

They spend the next few hours pouring over ideas.

Tossing plans back and fourth. Sometimes they end up walking in circles and Shirase ends up leaving to patrol but thanks him for his input.

Dazai's never had anyone but Mori to steategise with, but this felt different. Quietly he'll admit that it was fun.

For all of Chuuya's grumbling of not being a king, he's an effective leader.

And so different from Mori.

After becoming Boss, Mori is strictly hands off.

He rules through fear and intimadation. He doesn't have to fight because he had tools that would it for him.

Mori's word was law, you didn't challenge it unless you had a coffin picked out.

Than you had Chuuya who constantly throws himself onto the front lines. He's a team player even if he would jump into danger alone to spare the others.

The Sheep follow Chuuya because they trust him. They need each other to survive and care about each other.

Chuuya doesn't give orders, everything feels like an open ended discussion. They debate and scheme and come up with solutions together.

The Sheep have even benched him when he's injured despite Chuuya saying he was fine.

They know each other's limits and don't use that to exploit it each other. Rather how to help and take care off each other.

It's so different to what Dazai's used too.

It's werid.

But it's not a bad werid.

Dazai starts to dread the idea of going back to the Port Mafia. He makes a throw away comment about it at dinner and everyone goes silent.

Chuuya just looks at him like he's said the dumbest thing he's ever heard.

"Idiot, if you don't wanna go back. Don't."

Dazai wants to laugh and say that it's not that easy. You don't just leave the Port Mafia, he'll be killed or worse and that's before Mori finds out and deals with him personally.

Chuuya rolls his eyes, as if reading his mind. He tilts his head to the others, and Dazai looks around.

And notices the looks on everyone's faces.

No one objects, no one looks annoyed or angry... Infact, they seem to all be in an agreement.

If the Port Mafia tried to take Dazai, they would all rally behind him.

And Dazai... He smiles.

Somewhere deep down he knows he's found where he belongs.

Chuuya gifts him his blue wristband, putting it on his wrist.

Dazai: Werid way to propose Slug.

Chuuya: I'm not proposing?! We're not even dating!

Dazai: Do I have to do everything around here?

Chuuya: You never do shit!

Shirase: Not true! Shirase tell him! Tell him how useful I've been!

Shirase: He's not wrong, Chuuya.

Dazai: Awww thank you hedgehog!

Shirase:... Nevermind he's been lazing around all morning.

Dazai: Gasp betrayal!

Yuan:.. Did he just say gasp?

Dazai:, Fine fine, oh great king Chuuya will you go out with the lowly peasant that is me?

Chuuya:... I will pay you to never call me that... And sure fine I'll go out with you.

Yuan: I win! Pay up scrubs!

Everyone else: groans and pays her their money

Chuuya: You bet on us?!

Shirase: You can't actually be suprised.

Chuuya:...

Yuan: Thought so.

Dazai: Damnit why didn't I think of that?

#Bsd #Bsd the sheep #Sheep Dazai #soukoku #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs #bsd shirase #bsd yuan #The Sheep King and his Demon AU

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lunarw0rks · 11 months

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A/N: This is pure filth bc I need this man biblically. It would solve my problems :))

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), language, knives, DUB-CON!!, oral sex (fem. receiving), edging, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it please omg), size kink if you squint, creampie, overstimulation, c0ckwarming, no aftercare

Word Count: 2.9k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ PART ONE // requests | ao3 ver.

Sparring | Part Two

The base had gone quiet, with most already asleep or working quietly at their desks. It was not the time of day you expected to work on your sparring, but he was your superior nonetheless. He didn’t have to give you reasons.

As you wandered down the dimly lit halls, wearing your training clothes, you finally reached the training room. You weren’t sure what to expect, given the tension bubbling between you and Ghost the day before.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it multiple times throughout the day, straddling his lap with his own knife pressed against his throat. What an image, given his status and the intimidating exterior he upheld around everyone else.

When you opened the door, the room was lit only by a little, leaving the shadows in pitch black. You were greeted by his large hands holding you against the wall. You could feel the cold cement wall through your clothed stomach.

“You let yourself get pinned again, Sergeant. Always expect the unexpected.” He grumbled, freeing you so you could turn around and see him in full. Still the same training getup as the day before—a tight black tee, and gray cargo pants. Instead of his skull mask or balaclava, it was the back surgical mask he sometimes wore when you posed as citizens. The bridge of his nose was more visible now, as well as the structure of his cheekbones and jawline—something you rarely got to enjoy seeing.

“What environment is this supposed to be?” You motioned toward the darkness of the training room, where you could barely see past the outstretch of your arm.

He scoffed as if you were supposed to already know the answer. “If you want any chance of staying alive out there, you need to be prepared for anything.” Something about the way he said the last word sent a chill down your spine, more so than his deep authoritative tone already did.

No more questions. Lesson learned.

“Let me pose a scenario.” He crosses his arm over his chest, continuing to stand over you. “You’re being hunted. The lights are out, and you don’t have your gear. Hm?” He says, attempting to maintain a professional tone, but he’s practically quivering in anticipation.

The whites of his eyes glowing in the void practically burned into you, waiting for a response.

“Well…” You began, pressing your back against the wall in uncertainty. “I suppose I would use my stealth. Try to avoid conflict.” It was hard to give a proper response, with the knitted brows he harbored.

The exchange of stares lasted a little longer than you expected, which made your posture tighten in suspense of the next move.

He stepped away from you, turning to face the opposing wall. “You have one minute, and the entire gym at your disposal. Use it wisely, Sergeant.”

No countdown, no release. The time had already begun, forcing you to get moving.

For the first part of the minute, you allowed yourself to sprint to create distance. But then, you needed to quiet your stomps, so sound alone didn’t give you away.

Once you’re about halfway through the gym, you’ve reached the area with little to no light left. Once you pass this point, it would be lucky if you didn’t stumble and hurt yourself, or the heaviness of your breathing echoing through the room as a giveaway.

You feel around, finding one of the spare foam mats, which you know is always stored in the corner, by the office. If you can loop through there, and find a hiding spot in the locker room, there might be a chance. However, the clock was ticking, and he’d be retracing your steps any second.

You slowly twist the handle to the door, cringing at any creak of the metal hinges. Your footsteps are much too loud now that you’re back on concrete, so you decide to rid them of your shoes. Perhaps if you leave them here, it’ll throw him off your trail.

Gazing down at your watch, you estimate you have about ten seconds remaining. You hurriedly place your boots by one of the file cabinets. Then, use the desks and bookshelves as your tunnel system. Of course, the office has large windows overlooking the training room, so you need to stay low.

You go from desk to desk, ducking beneath the nearest one when you hear the door to the office open. He’s close, and surely not that easy to outsmart. You’ve seen him on the field, quick, deadly, and near silent at all times.

He’s inching closer but hasn’t spotted you yet. That is unless he wants you to think he hasn’t. You suck in a breath and keep as still as possible. By now, he’s right next to the desk you’re hiding under, just waiting for you to make a mistake.

With a sigh, he turns around and leaves the way he came. You peeked up a small amount, seeing his shadow retreat down the hall. It’s only a matter of time before he knows you’re not in the gym, so you need to move.

You remove yourself from the confined space, continuing to crawl across the floor. Finally, you reach one of the entrances to the locker room—the only place he hasn’t looked at yet. You rise to your feet once you reach it, poking your head around the aisles of lockers and benches.

Your heart rattles as you find each area clear, unable to pick up on any of his movements. He’s too damn fast, and too quiet for your liking. You’ve convinced yourself, if he knew where you were he’d have found you already.

You reach the shelves that are filled with piles of clean sweat towels, which is more of a maze with limited lighting.

You stop in your tracks when the door on the opposite side opens, the one you enter through when you’re in the gym. Of course, you should’ve suspected he’d close in soon. Cat and mouse can only last so long, even in the dark.

This time, he makes no attempt to stifle the click of his boots against the tile, letting you know approximately how close he was at all times. You press your back against one of the shelves, hoping he’ll somehow turn around and go the opposite way. But he was too close—too close for comfort now.

You search for any way out, or another temporary hiding spot. Sneaking past him to get to the gym again won’t work, so the showers are your best bet, however, they lead to a dead end. Showers, it is.

You curse under your breath and whip around the corner, entering the showers. Here, having your boots would’ve been helpful. The tile is still slick from those who used the showers before lights out, so not ideal. Surely, getting caught was bad enough, but slipping and cracking your head open would only prove his point. You needed to stay light on your feet and use your head.

You snuck around the ledge of the half wall, the one that separated the showers from the changing area.

His fingers brushed over the collar of your shirt, barely slipping past him. “Cheeky little bastard.” He growled in frustration, his footsteps pounding close behind you.

Just when you made it to the first shower stall, your socks slid against the tile, making your movements halt. His fist was wrapped tightly around your ankle as you fell to the ground, accepting your defeat. He released your ankle but quickly mirrored the position you two were in the previous day. Pinning your thighs with his knees, with one hand pressing both wrists to your chest, and the other holding his blade to your throat.

“Decent attempt, you think?” He tilted his head down at you, maintaining his grip. When you don’t respond, he answers his own question. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. Or killed.” His tone was different than before, more of a groan.

You panted against his grip because now the fatigue of running from him caught up with you all at once. And now, whatever consequence he has in mind is bound to come.

That look you were giving him was going to drive him mad. Obedience, mixed with unease. He knows he has you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Looks don’t lie, either, and the way you stared at him the previous day filled him with need.

He let go of your wrists, but the blade remained, pulling down his mask below the chin. “Are you going to keep your mouth shut, Sergeant?” You nodded your head quickly, allowing your eyes to examine his true appearance.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth when he saw your eagerness to comply. He eased the pressure he had on your legs and stood up, reaching out his hand for you to grab. Then leaned in close, so close that the tip of his nose was making contact with yours. You could smell the cologne he always wore paired with the faint stench of whiskey on his breath.

You met his eyes, which resembled two black holes filled with an appetite for you. To say you haven’t thought about this before would be foolish. Thought, daydreamed, actually dreamed about it. He’s built and authoritative, but not obnoxious about it. It’s all the way he carries himself on the field.

He presses his lips to yours, going at an agonizingly slow pace at first. It was not what you were expecting out of him. When you reach out to hold the sides of his face, he doesn’t break the kiss, but grips both of them, using just one of his hands to restrain you.

His other hand slides down your stomach, teasing his fingertips at the edge of your belt, giving it a small tug. When he’s satisfied with the teasing, he pulls down your bottoms enough to reveal your underpants. He jams his large hands in between your thighs, inching toward your core—which is aching by this point.

Your wrists are still restricted as he squats down on one knee, tonguing along your thigh until he reaches your clothed clit. His pupils flick upwards when you gasp slightly, only encouraging him to go further. He pulls your panties to the side, keeping eye contact as he swipes his tongue along your folds, going back and forth.

He releases your wrists so that he can hold onto your hips tightly, making sure they don’t buck too far from the wall he’s pressed you to. Your breath shutters as he continues licking away, quickening his pace at each reaction you give him.

He hums to himself, sending a vibration against your sensitive pussy. You could practically feel a smug grimace on his face when he realized how good he was making you feel. There was no time to question the morality of this, the only thing on your mind was the pleasure you were feeling. You dig your fingernails into the tile, not daring to touch him and risk him stopping. You were too close to climax for his teasing games.

He loves glancing up at you, how each thrust of his tongue sends your mouth agape. How your eyes rolled back ever so slightly—something he’s been daring to witness since you joined the Task Force. He remembers how his cock twitched in his pants the first time he saw you a sweaty panting mess in the training room, or when he scolded you for making a mistake and you gave him those submissive eyes for the first time.

He waits until your gasps become closer together, and your hips jerk a bit more aggressively, then pulls away, having successfully edged you. His lips are saturated in your own slick when he kisses you hungrily, guiding you towards the half-wall in the middle of the shower room.

The curve of your spine thuds into it. He slides your pants the rest of the way down, tossing them aside somewhere in the room.

You’re nearly whining in anticipation, because of how cruelly he denied your climax. “You keep complaining like that, and I’ll leave you here.” He growls straight into your ear, flipping you around so you’re bent over the ledge of the wall.

He unbuckles his belt hastily, and pulls down his briefs, pressing his hips against your bottom. You can feel his length pressing against you, making your core ache from the emptiness it’s feeling. He’s too eager to leave you like this, too needy. He’d never show that, but his self-control is diminishing the longer he ogles you bent over in front of him.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your lower lips at first, feeling the wetness he caused to form. A smug expression was written on his face as he pulled your panties to the side, pushing into you slowly so you could adjust to the stretch.

He groans, expelling all the tension he’d felt towards you once you were wrapped around him. When you’re about to let out a moan, he clamps his hand over your mouth. The room is already echoing every little sound, he doesn’t need this moment to be interrupted by a nosy recruit.

Once he’s confident in your ability to take him in full, he pushes into you, filling you with every inch of his length.

A strangled coo is blocked by his palm when he begins thrusting at a moderate pace. Your knees buckle slightly at the sudden exertion, and how much of him is pumping into you at once. You moan against his hand with every buck of his hips.

His other arm is occupied by digging his fingertips into the plush skin on your hips, so firmly that there would be imprints the next day.

“Knew it would feel this good.” He says cockily, picking up the pace of his thrusts little by little. The feelings of pleasure you were missing are beginning to return, and even more, know that he’s gotten rougher. You loved the way his large hand silenced you, and how the other delved into your skin.

If he continues, he’ll be nearing his climax within moments of yours. He prided himself on being able to give and take your pleasure whenever he pleased, having you completely at his mercy to do with you what he pleased.

The arousal coating your entrance made it so easy for him to glide in and out of you, slamming into you without any clemency now. Your stomach dug into the ledge of the wall with each thrust of his cock, but the pain was overshadowed by the orgasm overtaking you.

The hand on your mouth instead turned into his index and middle shoved inside of it, forcing you to gag and slobber against them because of how drunk you felt. You trembled around his digits, feeling your saliva coat them endlessly as your legs began to shake.

Shockwaves rippled through your core, all the way up your spine as you finally reached your peak. He could tell by the way you pulsed around him, nearly delaying his pace from how tight you were. His eyes rolled slightly when he knew he had finally given you an orgasm, and it pushed him closer to his own.

He uses the hand in your mouth to turn your head, forcing you to crane your neck and look at him, at least as well as you could with the tide of your body as his hips slammed against you.

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes from how sensitive you were—Simon still pounding inside of you moments after your high. Your sensitive clit was getting all the friction, as well as your aching walls, which still remained tight around his cock.

If he had all the time and privacy in the world, he would overstimulate you with multiple climaxes until you ushered him to stop. He’ll take what he can get when he can, even if that meant fucking you senseless at the base.

His thrusts turned sloppy as his cum began to spurt out, filling inside you with so much that it began to seep out, soaking your panties and running down the curve of your inner thighs. He went tense during the last spurt, using you to cockwarm him for a few seconds after.

You mewled as he pulled out of you, feeling the soak he left behind that was coating your lower half. His fingers removed themselves from your mouth, allowing you to huff freely now. You loosened the tight grip you had on the ledge, finally allowing you to stand on bobbling legs.

By the time you turned around, he’d already readjusted his mask to cover the lower region of his face, and his cargo pants were pulled up. Somehow, he looked as if he wasn’t just screwing your brains out. More disheveled than usual, but looking at you as if it was any other day.

He leaned close to your ear, placing his hands behind his back in an administrative manner.

“I’ll see you bright and early for training tomorrow, Sergeant.” He scoffs at his own words, giving you a small wink as he walks out of the room, leaving you to clean yourself up—and process what the hell just happened.

#simon riley #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #mw2 #mw2 fanfic #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley smut #call of duty

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ohnococo · 3 months

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Fight Night | CHAPTER 9 | MMA Fighter!Sukuna x Reader

You take care of Sukuna, and he takes care of you - this time with a gift. Uraume gives you a little insight along the way.

Warnings: Phone sex, mutual masturbation

FIRST CHAPTER

LAST CHAPTER

It’s far from the first time you were left floating from all the butterflies in your stomach because of Sukuna, but it was the first time you’d done it quite so openly - with your arms wrapped around him, cuddling him like he’d always been here with you. It had taken everything in you to not ask him to spend the night, for the sake of keeping up your little game.

In the end though, you were happy with that choice. You’d already been on the verge of ending it all then and there in the heat of the moment and begging Sukuna to fuck you, but the longer he went without, the softer he seemed to get.

Emotionally, at least. As for his cock, he was left very much hard and very much soaking a wet patch through his pants right where his fat tip was nestled. It was enough to have your mouth watering, and his restraint when he finally got up to wash his hands and leave only had your pussy begging your mind to relent. Your mind won out though, when he gave you that smile that told you he knew everything you were thinking of letting him do to you, and said goodnight.

It made you feel pampered, knowing his word was his vow, knowing that he was content just to have pleased you and eased your mind in one. And eased your mind was, as you laid curled up in bed, having locked the door behind him only half an hour ago. But your core was still churning, wondering how a man that had first presented himself to you as a veritable God of hedonism could so easily switch it off just like that.

You think, and think, and think until your sleepiness is gone, coming to the conclusion that he hasn't switched it off, not really. He’s hidden it away in wait, and just as he denied himself temptation when preparing for his fights, only to release all restraint after he’s had his victory. But with this he’s holding back all of that hunger to release when you see fit.

It’s hard not to wonder how long he can wait until that dam bursts. You suspect he could hold out much, much longer than you with his mind so set on it. Then, you wonder if you really want to wait long, and decide that no, you don’t. There’s a date in mind, one you’ll keep to yourself, but in the meantime you find you need more to satisfy you than an orgasm all by your lonesome.

You roll over in bed, pulling your phone off charge and calling Sukuna, knowing he wouldn’t have been home for long and surely wasn’t asleep just yet. He answers on the second ring.

“I’m not coming over there again.”

It makes you giggle, giddy before you’ve even made your demands. “You in bed yet?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I want you to do something else for me.”

“Well?” He says it like he’s annoyed, but you can taste the anticipation in his voice.

“Get your cock out.”

He laughs, loud and sweet, and you hear fabric rustling as he does just as you’ve asked. His voice is light, playful, and you swear you can hear him smiling, “What now?”

You roll onto your back, nestling your head into your pillows, “Stroke it.”

His response is a low hum, and the lack of hesitation to follow your instructions sends waves of electricity coursing through you. “Nice and slow.”

He’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks his voice is even, and his words alone wouldn’t betray what he was doing if it weren’t for a small intake of air through his teeth. “You’re certainly full of demands tonight, aren’t you?”

Something about the way his voice sounds over the phone has that familiar pull in your stomach begging you to do something about it, so you slip your hand into your panties. As if he knows, he lets out a little groan right when you start sliding a finger around your clit, and you’re matching it with a shaky little gasp.

Now his voice is affected, “Hm? Is that what this is about?” He pauses, hissing as he adds something imperceptible to his movements on his cock that shake his voice only slightly. “You want me to help you get off again?”

The rumble of his deep voice is quickly turning that answer into a yes, though your response remains in line with your original plan. “I just want you to cum tonight.”

He’s chuckling again, taking a deep breath after to steady his voice even as he continues stroking his cock for you. “How sweet.”

You lick your lips, then put the call on speaker as you lie the phone next to your head on the pillow, rolling your fingers gently over your nipple while your other hand is busy in your panties.

Sukuna doesn’t miss the change in noise, “Are you playing with your clit? Or do you have your fingers inside?”

His words make you moan again, and he groans in response as you answer his question. “J-just my clit.”

“Mmm, why don’t you give yourself something to clench around when you make yourself cum? Fuck that cunt since I can’t do it for you right now.”

There’s no restraint in the noises he was getting out of you right now, even from afar, and though you’d started this as the one calling the shots, you’re obeying without question. You pull your panties down to your ankles, spreading your legs to slide your fingers inside while you resume your tight circles on your clit, getting lost in the low sounds of him panting as he strokes himself for you.

He isn’t leaving you to get too lost in it though, “And what about me?”

Your mind draws a blank, while you only fuck your fingers into yourself faster, before you’re catching up with your thoughts. “Stroke it faster.”

“Thank you.” It’s slightly patronising, reminding you that controlling him was a game you were playing because he’d decided to let you, but that has your chest and pussy clenching in unison.

He moans and you swear he’s playing up the noises he’s making more than ever, relishing in his ability to get you so heated just from the sound of him. It’s working, and working well as this time when you moan his own noise eclipses yours and has you drawing your knees up as your orgasm nears.

“Are you close?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle that turns to a groan halfway through, “I can be. Need me to cum for you?”

That sends your head spinning and your pussy clenching. “Please, I’m close…”

His breath only gets shakier, and you can hear the wet sound of him stroking himself fast, groans and moans coming closer and closer together. You try to slow down for him, to wait until he’s there with you, but it only gets harder.

“I was saving this up for your cunt.”

You can only whine in response to that, but his next words are all the go ahead you’d wanted to let go, “but I’ll just have to cum all over myself for you instead.”

His end is so hot on the heels of his words that it’s a wonder he even got them out, short deep groans sending you to your end with him. You’re moaning loudly for him as you work yourself through your orgasm, imagining just how much of his cum was covering his beautiful body just because you’d asked that he make it happen.

It has your thighs tensing, toes curling, and when you gasp out the last of your pleasure you sink deeper into your pillow, catching your breath as he does the same on the other end of the phone.

The two of you stay in a comfortable silence for ages, both staring up at your ceilings, both breathing softly as you bask in your shared afterglow. Then, you glance at the time and sit up, grabbing your phone.

“Shit, don’t you have to get up at the crack of dawn?”

Sukuna chuckles, having not been quite so unaware of the time, “I’ll be fine. Get some sleep.”

You know you’ll sleep well, and hope he does too.

He texts you the next afternoon, updating you on how his pre fight weigh-ins had gone. They’d gone just fine, apparently, though Todo had made some threatening gestures that had done nothing as far as affecting Sukuna. You figured it was just the younger man’s brand of bravado, and Sukuna says as much when informing you he’d only laughed in Todo’s face as the cameras clicked incessantly, eating up the display.

You want to see the little showdown yourself, but don’t even have to wait as Sukuna sends you a link to an article with a video included. He comments on the flashy poses Todo had assumed, persona apparently quite marketable, though Sukuna says he’d be suited for fake wrestling with a palpable level of derision, even through text, as he waits for your reaction.

In the video, you do indeed find Todo’s little moves entertaining, but get momentarily side tracked from texting Sukuna as much when you pick out a mop of pink hair off in a corner with Todo’s coaches. You think you might see some interaction there, but as Sukuna enters and exits from the opposite side of the room they don’t seem to cross paths. Then, the subject is changed before you can dwell on it too much.

when are you off work?

There he goes, getting you giddy just with the hint of a suggestion of time spent together.

Started early today, i’m out at 4

The text you were always waiting for comes through, quick as ever.

good. come over

No isn’t even a possible answer at this point, though you do want to actually get out of your drab work attire first.

I need to stop by mine first. What are we doing?

I have something for you.

Whether he’s referring to an actual gift or something else is lost on you, but you’re excited either way.

Excited enough to make quick work of showering once you’re home, touching up your makeup and putting on something much less business-casual now that you’re off the clock. Then, just as you’re about to slip your shoes on, Sukuna calls.

“Hey.”

“My pre-fight medical got pushed forward, so I won’t be back home for a bit.”

“Oh, rain check, then? Or do you want me to come over later?”

“No,” he says it like either were silly suggestions, “Uraume is in the kitchen today anyway, they’ll let you in.”

“Oh, okay.”

You say your goodbyes, and continue on your way out the door.

Uraume takes as much getting used to as Sukuna in some ways, except you didn’t click with them right away the same way you did with him. Now, you find they’ve grown on you.

With the way they open the door - giving you a small nod, which was their version of a friendly gesture - you suspect you’ve grown on them too. Had you found yourself in a big house alone with them several months ago you would have had your hairs standing on end thanks to their chilly demeanour, but now you were happy for the company.

As you follow them to the kitchen, opting to sit with them while they work, they call over your shoulder with just the smallest hint of amusement, “I see you two have made up.”

You’d forgotten that Uraume was technically in the next room for half of your awkward dinner, and if you didn’t know them better you’d have responded with an air of defensiveness. With Uraume though, you just say it like it is. “We weren’t really mad at each other or anything.”

Once you’re in the kitchen, Uraume is facing you properly, resuming their work at a cutting board on the island in Sukuna’s spacious kitchen. You take a seat across from them at one of the several high stools, leaning onto the countertop.

“I know.” Their face is unreadable, but they speak with a discerning tone, “If Sukuna had been truly angry you wouldn’t have gotten a word about his brother out of him.”

You freeze then, caught in two minds as to whether you should push for more or just move on. You choose the latter, turning the conversation elsewhere.

“So why do you do all of this stuff for Sukuna? You’re like a PA half the time.”

Uraume shoots you a look, unamused at you questioning their duties. Then, they shrug. “He looks after the people he cares for. I return the favour in the ways that I can.”

You ponder over those words, Sukuna looks after the people he cares about…

“Can I ask you a question?”

Uraume peers up at you, knife still working quickly over the onions on their chopping board, before they turn to push it into an awaiting pot on the stovetop behind them. You think you’re getting their version of a No, until they finally respond as they push the onions around with a wooden spoon. “He did try to take care of Yuuji, but he just sent everything right back.”

“Oh…” It was jarring hearing Uraume say his name. You’d tried to push it out of your mind since you’d read it under an image of him and Todo online, rather than having heard it from Sukuna himself.

They turn and shoot you a look that broadcasts the admission was between the two of you, but you have to admit you weren’t being nosy this time.

“I wasn’t asking about that, actually.”

Uraume’s posture stiffens, and you swear you see the beginnings of a blush as they turn away quickly, turning up the heat and stirring the onions much more vigorously. “Well. Just ask your question then, I need to get back to work.”

You’re glad they’ve turned away, otherwise your smile might have made them feel even more flustered at volunteering such information. “Does Sukuna always party like he did with me? With other girls, I mean.”

Their shoulders relax, feeling a little less embarrassed now that you were there being slightly vulnerable. Their response is said in that usual curt tone, but their glance over their shoulder at you feels like a silent indication of some kind of weight to their statement. “Not for more than one night he doesn’t.”

It has you smiling wide enough that you’re on the verge of chuckling outright, but hold back just a little with Uraume there. “Thanks Uraume, I’ll leave you to it then.”

You’re only just wiggling off of the stool before Uraume stops you, having recovered slightly from their blunder. “You can stay… just don’t distract me.”

Though Uraume had grown on you, they still didn’t make for the most sparkling conversation, so the time passes slowly until Sukuna returns. That isn’t entirely to blame on Uraume though, with your impatience at the time between seeing Sukuna having grown stronger and stronger as the months went by. As smitten as you are though, you do hold back on running to greet him at the door like an excited puppy - that was simply a step too far.

He doesn’t make it easy, though, smiling wide when he makes his way into the kitchen and looks from you to Uraume, then back to you.

“Are you two conspiring against me?”

Uraume doesn’t find it amusing, offering a little scoff and returning to dividing food into glass containers. You do, though.

“I don’t think we’d have a chance, even in a 2v1.” You look up at him as he comes to stand next to where you were seated, your eyes wide and a slight pout as you add, “Unless you go easy on us?”

His brows flick upward, adding an edge to his smile, “Never.”

Uraume is unperturbed as ever by the energy shift as you two speak, pulling a tray out of the oven and speaking about their only concern, “I’ll plate up in a moment, if you want to sit down?”

Sukuna nods, though his eyes are still on you, “Of course, Uraume.”

Now you are moved to get up from your seat, wrapping your arms around Sukuna’s hips, and resting your chin on his chest, “Dinner at yours two days in a row? I’m starting to think you have a crush on me or something.”

He huffs, and when you stand on your tiptoes he leans down to give you the kiss you were so clearly requesting. You part your lips for him immediately, granting him entry to explore your mouth, hands travelling down your back to squeeze at your ass then settle on your hips before he’s pulling back to speak.

“Stating the obvious is a waste of time.”

You roll your eyes, pulling away from him, but his hands have you locked firmly in place. He dips his head low, pressing his cheek to yours, “Crush is a word for children. You’ll have to use something better than that.”

Then, he’s letting you go and heading towards his dining room, gesturing for you to follow. You do, quickly, having wound up the excited puppy anyway thanks to his words.

This time dinner is without worry, and last night’s uncomfortable brand of tension is traded for one that’s much more pleasant. Your concerns are gone, and you just enjoy your time with Sukuna, you’ve even forgotten why he’d asked you to come over in the first place until your food has been long finished and your conversation has moved to his living room.

When you’d come in you’d glimpsed at the large white gift box on the centre of his coffee table, but decided to continue the conversation until Sukuna brought it up himself.

Instead you’re settled in on his couch, as comfortable as you can get on leather that's too new to be supple enough to relax on, and your bare foot sticks uncomfortably to it as you tuck it under your knee while turning to face Sukuna. He pulls it from under you, settling it on his lap instead before resting a heavy hand on your ankle. You bring the other one up to join it on his lap and lean back onto the arm of the couch as he speaks.

“They have special seating for family and friends of fighters, you’ll be right behind the judges and able to see us clearly.” He waves a hand dismissively at his next thought, “You’ll be separated from the riffraff too.”

It’s exciting, watching a fight up close. You’re sure you wouldn’t have cared some months ago, but now you have a vested interest.

“Will Uraume be there? Or are they going to be with you?”

“Uraume will meet us afterwards. They don’t like the noise of the events.”

You are and aren’t surprised, “But they like the noise of the club?”

He shrugs, unphased by the multitudes his quiet personal chef apparently contained, “They like people watching in places like that.”

You’re reminded of the first night you’d met them both. “Yeah, I gathered that…”

“We’ll need to go in hours before you anyway,” he starts rubbing his thumb along the arch of your foot as he speaks, “you can stay here the night before, I’ll send a car for you when they’ll be letting your section in.”

You nod, happy to have the logistics out of the way for the first live fight you’ll have ever watched. You hope it won’t be the last.

“Are you nervous?”

He laughs, shaking his head, “No.”

“So are you going to finish him in the first match?”

The corners of his mouth quirk downward as he feigns deep thought at it, before responding with a wicked grin, “Second round. He seems fun.”

You wiggle your feet against his lap, as his touch goes light enough to tickle, and he takes that as an opportunity to finally address the box on the table, flicking his index finger in its direction.

“That’s for you.”

You lean over to grab it, pulling your feet off his lap to sit cross legged as you set it between the two of you. There’s no grand reveal as he explains what it is before your hands have even reached the black ribbon wrapped around it, untying it carefully before starting to slowly pull the lid off.

“Something to wear for the fight.”

You’re flattered, but your guard is up ever so slightly as you fold back the tissue paper surrounding the clothing inside. There are some ways that you don’t fully know Sukuna just yet, but you absolutely know what he’s like and expect to find it’s some tight revealing thing not entirely dissimilar to the things he seemed to love seeing you in on your nights out. It has you questioning if you’d really want to wear that around people who admire him, people who don’t know what the two of you had spent months doing with reckless abandon.

As it’s finally revealed, you run your hands over the neatly folded pale blue dress. It unfurls as you lift it by the shoulders, and you’re surprised, having to stand to hold it out and take it in fully. It’s clearly meant to be form fitting as you’d expected, but it’s long enough that it would hit just below the knees. The sleeves are long too, and the neck is high. You might even call it modest, if it weren’t clearly meant to hug your every curve.

“It suits you.” He says it with a sense of certainty. He hadn’t seen you in it, he hadn’t seen you in anything quite like it, but he will because he expected it. And if there was one thing you did, it was meet his expectations, then exceed them.

You turn it around, taking in the deep cutout on the back, and smile. There was the little hint of what you’d been expecting, accompanied by a slit in the back to allow you to move in the tight dress, though you’re aware you have no hope of wearing a bra in it - something that surely weighed heavily in his choice.

Despite the gesture, your face feels hot. It was strange, like it was too much. Technically, it wasn’t. He’d absolutely spent more than this dress was worth on drinks and drugs and rides across town alone, but this was something to hang onto, something tangible.

Then, he’s giving you that sigh, the one that tells you he’s putting a stop to something that bores him. “Stop thinking.”

You’d been good at that with him. Some of the time at least. Other times you’d been awful at it. He was right though, since you’d started getting to know each other more any time you’d second guessed his intentions you’d found them to be true to what they initially appeared to be. It’s just a dress, you tell yourself, putting it back in the box carefully.

“I’ll see if it fits.”

He smiles, satisfied, knowing it would. Knowing you knew it would too.

“Thank you.” You add, and you mean it.

He nods, but waits, watching your face. He knows there’s something waiting to be tacked onto your appreciation. With the way his raised brows beckon you to just come out with it, you’re reminded that he could always read your tells the way you’ve come to read his.

“But… you didn’t get me this because of yesterday, did you?”

His jaw tenses for a moment, then he closes his eyes as he lets out a little sigh. When he opens them he looks a little less hardened than he had just moments ago, “I’m giving it to you right now because of that, yes.”

You aren’t sure how to feel about that, but he heads you off at the pass before you can wonder at his intentions with it.

“It was bought weeks ago.”

You run your fingers across the fabric, thinking despite his attempts to ease your mind. So he tries again.

“This… thing with my brother is not something I’ll keep to myself forever. For now, this is another apology. But it was only bought because I wanted to get you something nice.”

You’re satisfied with that, breathing out the last of your apprehension as you move the box back to its original place on the coffee table, and sit on Sukuna’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and playing with his hair.

“Thank you.” This time it’s said with nothing but gratitude, and you kiss him on the cheek, having to move quickly to avoid him turning to meet you with his lips instead.

When you pull back, he looks smug. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m gonna ask you something awkward now.”

His body tenses, mouth straightening into a line as he raises his brows in wait for your question.

“This isn’t a fling right?”

He relaxes immediately, head tilting back as he lets out a boisterous laugh. You’re unsure of yourself for a moment, as he takes a bit too long revelling in whatever amusement he got out of your question. “Is that all?”

You nod, leaning back a little as you pull your hands from his hair, but he’s grabbing you by your upper arms, wrapping them back around him. “I wouldn’t buy a $300 dress for a fling.”

“Jesus Christ, did you really spend that much?”

“Well you’d have probably started pouting about buying me something in return if it had been jewellery.”

You don’t know what to say. He was probably right, some big rock on a necklace would probably have left you lightheaded, but your head was already spinning just from knowing he’d spent a car payment on a dress you know will wind up a mess from whatever happens around town after his fight.

“Honestly when you said you had something for me I thought it was going to be lingerie.”

He dismisses the thought with a shake of his head, “I’d rather you go without entirely. Lingerie is just a waste of my time.”

It has your blood pumping faster, but you also can’t help scoffing and rolling your eyes at him. “Okay so you’re too good for cute panties, noted.”

He doesn’t take the bait, suddenly kissing you instead, wrapping his arms around your body. You melt into him, and when he pulls back to let you breathe you finally find your way back to the question you’d asked earlier, bolstered by Uraume’s earlier words as well as Sukuna’s own.

“So I’m not a crush, not a fling… what am I?”

Sukuna smiles, looking into your eyes and holding your body so close to his that he can feel every little muscle threatening to tense in anticipation of his answer.

“You’re mine.”

CHAPTER 10

#reminder minors and ageless blogs get blocked #my writing #sukuna #mma fighter!sukuna #mma!au #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #reader insert #self insert #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

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idontplaytrack · 1 month

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Hey! I absolutely love your fics!! They genuinely bring me so much joy!! Can I request subby!needy!Janis smut?

thank you so so much reading them! :)

here it is- sorry for the wait. flare ups have been bad lately and having to think of new ideas was on the back burner.

Answer Me

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut. oral, fingering, spanking, orgasm denial (Janis receiving)

In which, Janis can’t keep her hands off reader and keeps being a brat. For which she was then punished…but to her advantage.

The longer you say at the table, the more overstimulated by the music pulsing through the speakers in the school gymnasium you were. And when you felt a hand on your shoulder, you jumped in your seat, shrugging it off abruptly.

“Damn, y/n. It’s me.” Janis says, sitting back down in her seat beside you. “I got you a drink.”

“Why do you keep-” You inhaled, “God, I can’t stand the music anymore- I feel like my heart is beating out of my chest and every little thing is pissing me off because I just want some peace and quiet now. Why is it continually the same kind of music?!”

“Okay, why don’t we…get outta here?” She leaned in to ask, her hand on your thigh. You looked at it, then at her.

“Eh, whatever. Beats being here.”

Janis took you by the hand and led you to the bathroom. “You- are such a brat.” Your hand snakes around her waist as she closes a stall door behind both of you.

“Are you gonna give me what I want or do I have to wait even longer? Hm?” That last little…word ticked you off. You smacked her on the ass, the noise thankfully muffled by the horrendous music in the gym. Janis purposely moans into your ear. “Shit.” You cursed, pushing her pants down. Janis chuckles, “You’ll always give me what I want? Right…? Mommy?”

“That’s new.” You arched a brow looking at her as she called you that name.

“You like?” Janis asks with a sheepish grin, attaching her lips to a sensitive spot on your neck. You smirked, “Mm, convince me.” You chuckled, “Let me do everything first, though, huh? Since you’ve been so needy all night. Trying to touch me to rile me up?”

Janis watched you in anticipation, and you weren’t even sure what you were saying actually registered into her mind.

“And that crap you pulled moaning into my ear?” You whispered, “It’s like you want us to get caught.”

“Oh, like you smacking my ass was so subtle.” She rolled her eyes. You roughly shoved your hand down her front, rubbing her clit through the thin fabric of her underwear. “Shit, you are soaked.”

“You look so hot, babe…that dress and the leg slit?” She grins, running her finger up that said slit. You swat her hand away with your free hand and the other one pushed her underwear aside so you could insert your fingers. “Fuck.” Janis curses, exhaling slowly. “At this point I can just ride you myself and just come.”

“Absolutely not.” You disagree, “I’ll make you come. Stay still.”

As she leaned against the stall door, you were gathering some of her wetness before plunging a finger in and out. Beginning at a languish pace, she was quick to show you just how badly she needed more.

“I’m gonna need more than that, y/n.”

“I know, Janis. I’m making you wait.” You licked your lips, kneeling down next, “You gonna be good? Or are you gonna pull that shit again?”

Janis gulps.

“Answer me.” You demanded.

“I’ll be good. I’ll be good.” She nodded hurriedly.

You shrugged, dipping your tongue into her folds, lapping up her slick.

In your terms, that meant no noise and no release till you said it was okay. But you feeling how quickly she was getting wetter and wetter, it was going to be a challenge for her to keep quiet. As you practically assaulted her warm, pulsing cunt, you watched her face contort from the pleasure, and the pain from biting down on her lip till it drew blood. Her hand started to run through your hair, getting it tangled and also holding you closer.

————

As you sucked her lower lips, she whimpers. So your mouth lets go of them and returned its attention back to her clit- mercilessly circling and flicking at it with your tongue, her knees start to buckle and you pushed her back against the door causing a bit of a thud to be heard.

“I’m fine, y/n.” She assured you when she saw you looking.

“Good.” Your voice was muffled by your face being in her cunt. She squirms, so you held her with your hand on either ass cheeks and pushed your own face deeper into her.

“Oh, my fucking God. y/n- that feels so good. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” She started to whisper then blocked her mouth with a hand. Pulling your mouth away from her, you smacked her on her cunt then proceeded to rub it pretty aggressively. A throaty moan escaped her throat- you kissed her to swallow the sound, your tongue soothing the swelling that was starting to form.

Oh, your fingers? Shamelessly pushing and pulling in and out of her dripping pussy. Within minutes, she was tightening around you, begging to come.

“Say please, baby.” You said while pulling away from her mouth lazily. “Say please and I’ll let you. All you gotta do is answer me.”

There was absolutely no thought behind those eyes right now. It was like her brain rapidly turned into mush by the second as you fucked her.

“Answer me, princess.” You shoved two fingers back in to poke at her g-spot, “You said you wanted to come.”

“Please, can I come…please, mommy?” She did just as you said, having as good as no ability to form any other thoughts except for the fact that she was feeling as if she might explode.

“Good girl.” You grinned proudly, sucking at her neck as your fingers railed into her repeatedly to get her to unravel.

Silently, tears fell from her eyes as Janis tries her hardest to fight back the moans that were threatening to leave her mouth. They came out in the form of high-pitched little whimpers and whines - non stop. Until her body calmed down.

Your hand ghosts her sensitive heat, causing her to flinch due to overstimulation. “Baby, do you think you can give me one more?”

She was trembling, but she still said yes. Janis was taking all she could get tonight and if you wanted her to come again, she damn well would. “Mm, mhm.” She sniffled, “Yeah.”

“Don’t cry, princess.” You cupped her cheek, kissing her sweetly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. Just feels so good-” Her reply was curt, because you interrupted it by finger-fucking her again for a second time.

“Let me hear you this time.”

#auli’i cravalho #janis ‘imi’ike #reader insert #x reader #female reader #janis ‘imi’ike x fem reader #wlw #queer #lgbtqia #wlw fanfic #smut #wlw smut #wlw ns/fw #mean girls 2024 #dom/sub #sapphic

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nihilara · 1 month

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so, i know my carrd is clunky, and messy and bad. so i've decided to make a big masterpost for kuro's hsr au. because as i play it, it is growing, and evolving as i find new things to !!! over. plus i feel it's a bit easier to just have the verse post here on my tumblr anyway where folks can see it easier.

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: hamasaki kuro , just kuro please.

𝐀𝐆𝐄: 1000+ , his exact age isn't known. he's legit forgotten it.

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐒: favored of the plagues author , cat guy ( express crew ) , killjoy , emanator of yaoshi ( not anymore. ) , more to come i'm sure...

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇: abundance ( previous ), later path dependent on plotting :)

as you know, kuro's home world died.

the planet just could not sustain life anymore, and while it isn't coincidence that yao/shi chose him to be an emanator- it didn't happen until the planet was dead. a husk essentially, for him to implant the power of the abundance within, and bring it back with that alone. making it completely reliant on the aeon, and an ecological horror show of never ending life and growth.

during his time as an emanator, kuro worked to spread the influence of yao/shi to other worlds too. and unfortunately, the xian/zhou was collateral damage to these endeavors. which has earned him not only a bounty, but a permanent ban from any of the xian/zhou alliance ships. the damage he did to them was... comparatively minimal to what he did to the world he was focused on at the time. but it has given him history with certain characters, that is both traumatic, and brief-- enough that it's not necessarily reliant on fine details, for kuro to be a wanted criminal by the xian/zhou and potentially in hot water with the IPC.

the reason he stepped off his path... is unknown. but there's some speculation among those who knew of him. that yao/shi abandoned him perhaps, that he saw the truth of abundance, that it terrified him. the real reason is much too complicated. and he will not discuss it with anyone.

the astral/express & jarlio/VI

kuro didn't immediately join the express, he did wander for a while. it didn't feel right to pick up a new path right away. and despite losing his status as an emanator, he'd maintained his immortality-- though he's yet to suffer the effects of mara, despite his surprisingly long life. only time will tell there.

welt and hi/meko know about kuro's past. and he is accepted a temporary passenger who's job is to help pom pom in keeping the train tidy. though his stay ends up being much longer than any of them anticipated. making a home in a large room of a secondary passenger car. where he has about 6 cats, not including mimi. who he's convinced is hyper intelligent, and has a genuine personality. he gets along with the crew as much as he can. never really putting himself out there, and usually... usually avoiding visitors to the express whenever they come by to see the mc. the only one he will come out to see consistently is ar/genti.

he really wasn't too present for the first arc, but he did leave the train with the other three. and got to see jarlio/VI with mimi. they mostly stayed out of trouble, and sorta just,,, vanished for a bit. found back on the train when it was finished.

the luo/fu, the xian/zhou, and jing/yuan

kuro really does his best to not be a part of this one. his history, as mentioned above, with the xian/zhou is not good. and he has quite the bounty on his head, despite the several of centuries since he last saw the fleet. when he does actually leave to board the luo/fu he wears some extra accessories to disguise himself. but, jing/yuan despite the distraction of the stellaron & phanty/lia... finds him.

it's after this point, that kuro's past and history with yao/shi become entirely public to everyone. and he is almost imprisoned in the shackling prison. something he barely escapes thanks to ?????????????????? then vanishes entirely from the express, along with mimi. hm.

pena/cony, boot/hill & the IPC ( a wip, im playing through it now )

long story short- kuro ends up at the pena/cony. how he gets there is still pretty up in the air. but he does have his own room.

( meaning i will be adding more to this post as i go!!! )

in that span of time however, between the luo/fu and the pena/cony-- he does meet boot/hill. i'm aware his lore is also very unfinished, open, and much of his backstory is really just speculation. but i've got a bit of plotting going, and the two of them are in a bit of an in-between stage at the moment. making the two's meeting entirely possible and,, potentially beneficial to both? also, boot/hill is optimistic, and frankly quite unhinged. where as kuro tends to be nihilistic, and more mellow in comparison. it's a funny sort of interaction, very silly, i love it.

i do wonder if kuro's relationship or opinion of the IPC is also sour. though it's nothing compared to the xian/zhou, kuro's hands are not at all clean. and he's messed up at least one ( smaller ) planet in the past so, hm.

BIG potential for kuro to become a galaxy ranger as end game :)

#𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓; 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆. / about #𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄. / hsr #okay phew.... i did it #this is so long #i did it and it's not even 100%#IT WILL BE SOON !!!!!!!!!!!!#IVE BEGUN!#I LOVE THIS PLACE SM

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bigtreefest · 4 days

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Let's do 23 and 38 for Handiwork!Curtis and reader, please and thank you! 💜

Kris! Thank you so much for sending this in! I’m elated to answer, and honestly, it’s something I hadn’t thought of before. This is longer than I anticipated (what else is new?) so answers below the cut:

From the Handiwork Series

23. What are the defining characteristics of their relationship?

I’d say one of the first ones is playfulness. From what we’ve seen so far already (which isn’t too much😬), they’re both very easygoing when around each other and love a good joke. As time goes on, I hope we see them rag on each other a little more as Cherry helps to bring Curtis out of his shell some. I also think, as we’ll see very soon, trust is HUGE and goes hand-in-hand with honesty. Right off the bat, Curtis is honest with her about what it takes to fix her truck, and doesn’t claim a bunch of other things like another mechanic probably would. And then Curtis wants to make sure she’s safe, going as far as requesting Edgar to walk her home and driving her home, himself. From the very beginning, she has no doubts on Curtis’s intentions, even asking for him to give her a ride with only feelings of safety and no hesitations from hardly knowing him yet.

38. Who’s got a quicker temper?

Hm, see, this is tricky because I think there are many layers to it. I think Cherry is one to be more outwardly vocal about her temper. If someone gets on her nerves or is especially awful, I don’t think she’ll be afraid to say it to their face, or even tell those around her, nearly unprompted. She’s gotta be tough and assertive in her job, so she’ll yell, pretty easily, if she has to. As for Curtis, we’ve seen a little bit of what his temper could look like, but not much. And now that I think about it, he’s pretty patient. He likes to gather all the facts before making a final judgement and acting. You can see he gets a little annoyed and closed off at first around Bucky, but then once he really gets to know him, they become good friends. Now, Curtis got into his fair share of fights in high school, but none of them really had to do with him. It was more of a ‘Cole started it, so I finished it to protect Jake’ sort of thing since Curtis had evaluated Cole as worth punching and Jake as worth protecting. That changed as time went on, though, so Curtis still doesn’t forgive Jake and therefore, both will experience a shorter temper from him, but still probably 70% of the patience he just naturally has.

Now if we’re talking about with each other, this is an entirely different beast. But…actually, is it? I think Cherry gains a patience with him she doesn’t have for the general public, and Curtis’s grows deeper, as well. The thing is, though, I think she also get scared to tell him when she’s upset about something, instead closing off and expecting him to decipher it. Curtis isn’t into the cryptic messages as much, so he struggles with that and begs for a conversation. And when he’s upset, I think he’ll come out and say it, not raising his voice if he can help it, but sometimes it can escalate beyond both of their control. This is on very rare occasions, though. So it may as well not happen.

But all of that yapping through my answer finally figuring out the dynamic to say: Cherry on 90% or more of occasions. 😅

Referring to this Ship Ask Game

#keep sending asks!!#Curtis Everett #handiwork series #Curtis Everett x reader #mechanic farmhand Curtis Everett #outta nowhere #outta nowhere AU #handiwork

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quaranmine · 1 year

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The Incandescence of a Dying Light (Chapter Three)

In which Grian is not immune to the good times, and both fire and watching happen.

Chapter Three: 8,718 words

<< Chapter Two | Masterpost | Chapter Four >>

hiiiiiii! welcome to chapter three! this is the other half that i had to split off of chapter two and as you can see by its wordcount, i probably could've split it again if there was a place to do so. lots of firewatching related things in this one, so it was fun to write!

CW: mild conversational talk of past injury, conversation/story involving alcohol/drunkeness. Continuation of the themes of loss/grief. This chapter may contain spoilers for Top Gun (1986)

May 1989

It’s a sunny day, like the day before it and the day before it. Summer is creeping into the mountains, slowly taking the frigid edge from the wind that whips around Grian’s lookout tower. And although temperatures often still dip below freezing at night, the stream in Thunder Canyon is fuller and fuller with each passing day as the snow melts off the southern slopes of the peaks.

There’s wildflowers on the alpine meadows in the distance, dotted between fresh green grass. There’s birds in the trees. When Grian steps outside, he hears the sounds of running water wherever he goes–little trickles of ephemeral streams borne from the snows of the winter.

Grian is cleaning his tower today. It’s a day he’s working, so his process goes a little like this:

Sweep part of the floor. After a minute, look up and scan the horizon. Go back to sweeping, sweep the dust out the door, start to scrub on the dirtiest parts of the floor, and realize you’ve got no water.

Go fetch water for cleaning, and haul the heavy bucket up the four story tower from the spigot on the ground. Do an in-depth scan around the tower since it’s been a while since the last time you looked. Work on the floor some more, get bored, set the bucket aside and begin organizing shelves and supplies. Stand up every so often to look again.

You get it. Grian’s not fully sure yet what the best rhythm for looking is–he doesn’t want to miss anything, but surely there isn’t much opportunity for changes if he does it every few minutes. It’s a little jarring to have your attention so split between tasks, but that’s the job. You can do whatever you want in the tower as long as you remember to look. The looking is the reason he’s paid, and as distracted Grian may be, he still intends to do this job with a determination to make Mumbo proud.

Grian is just about to set out to clean the windows when his radio goes off again. It’s Scar. He sets down his supplies to go pick up the radio.

“Good morning, Two Forks,” Scar greets breezily. “What are you up to this fine morning?”

“Are you feeling separation anxiety already?” Grian snipes back. “We only spoke an hour ago when we did morning weather reports with the rest of the Forest Service.”

“No! Can’t a man be curious?”

Grian rolls his eyes. “I’m just cleaning. It’s amazing the amount of dust that gets blown in here.” Or tracked in here from his boots every time he ventures into the forest, oops.

“Hm. At least that’s something to do,” Scar says, before complaining: “I’m bored.”

“I don’t think this is the job for you if you’re bored,” Grian says.

“Hey!” Scar cries. “I’ve done this job a lot longer than you have. I’m allowed to be bored. Rookies aren’t allowed to be bored.”

Grian’s been here for three weeks, but he’s already accepted his fate that he’s now Scar’s go-to person to talk to when he’s bored. He wants to ask if Scar has ever tried to strike up friendships with the other lookouts in the area, or if he always talks this much to the lookouts he’s supervising, but he feels like that question will only put Scar on the defensive. And really, he doesn’t mind the guy–it’s just this is nothing like what he anticipated when he took the job.

For some people, the isolation of it all is precisely the draw.

Grian starts to clean the windows, sticking the radio in his pocket for easy access since Scar’s in a clearly talkative mood again. The windows must always be clean, lest some spot or smudge on the glass make it difficult for smoke to be spotted in the distance.

After a minute or two of silence, Scar speaks again. “Do you like movies, G? What’s your favorite movie?”

“I don’t know,” Grian says. “I don’t have one.”

Movies were always Mumbo’s thing, not Grian’s. He hasn’t paid attention to anything that came out in the past year or so. It just wasn’t important anymore.

He smiles a bit though, remembering how Mumbo was always dragging him to the theater near their university back in England. They’d try to sneak into movies without paying sometimes, and had gotten kicked out on three separate occasions. But the owner of the theater had liked Mumbo, with his endearing smile and nervous habits, and had never tried to ban him from the theater. When Grian thinks back on it, he wonders if sometimes they had just been allowed to stay.

“I can’t believe you don’t have a favorite movie,” Scar says. “My favorite movie is Top Gun! Did you ever see it?”

“Um, no,” Grian says, although he remembers the name. It was everywhere, for a while. Entertainment about the American military didn’t exactly spark any patriotism in him though, dual citizenship or not.

“Oh my goodness,” Scar says. “Not only do you not have a favorite movie but you’ve never seen Top Gun! You’re in worse shape than I thought, G-man.”

“How will I ever survive,” Grian says.

“It’s only the greatest movie of all time,” Scar says.

“Uh-huh,” Grian says. If he plays this right, he’ll be able to finish cleaning the windows without having to reply at all. “What’s it about?”

“Wait, you’ve never even heard of it? You don’t even know what it’s about? Top Gun? It was like the biggest movie of the year?”

“I guess you’ll just have to tell me about it,” Grian says, and ah–that’s done it. He’s bought time.

“Oh my goodness,” Scar says, and Grian can’t help but smile ever so slightly at how excited he seems. “So it opens with this amazing synth score, and like–the score on the whole movie is incredible, really. And it opens with the great music, and the whole intro is just the jets flying around–it’s about Navy pilots–and they’re real planes! They actually filmed in F-14 fighter jets–”

Grian sets the radio on the deck and carefully steps around it, cleaning the outside windows, sun warm on his back. When it’s time to step inside to look again, he picks the radio up and takes it with him, carrying Scar’s voice along.

He’s talking about some volleyball scene that’s apparently iconic, although Grian had been under the impression this was a plane movie, not a sports movie. He also talks about which actors were his favorites in the film–some Grian has heard of, others not so much. Mumbo’s probably heard of them all, though.

Grian frowns at the streaks on the window. He thinks that next time he’s asked to report any feedback, he’ll ask if they can supply his tower with a new squeegee, since the rubber on this one is very worn. He’d been a little surprised that such a specific tool had been in his tower at all given the distinct lack of other amenities–like running water, for one–but it made sense for a room surrounded on all sides by windows.

The next time he tunes in, Scar is giving him a demonstration of that highway to the danger zone song he’s heard all over the radio. Grian stops what he’s doing and puts a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, as if there’s anyone around at all to hear him laugh. The thing is, Scar wouldn’t be half bad at it if he was taking it seriously but this rendition of the song is…distinctly not. It has no right being as charming as it is.

Grian lets him ramble for a long time. The exact length of time doesn’t matter, because a location like this lays the very nature of time at your feet, rippling out infinitely along with the hills. There’s just the warm spring sun and cool spring breeze and the clouds in the bright blue sky and the cry of birds and the whisper of wind in the trees and the sound of Scar’s voice. They’ve got forever and a day out here, where Grian measures the passage of time by the length of the shadows on the deck.

“You have to watch the movie,” Scar concludes his spiel with.

“I feel like I’ve seen it already,” Grian says, and he isn’t exaggerating.

“No no no,” Scar says. “Something like this has to be seen with your own eyes! Experienced! Felt! It’s about the atmosphere, the music, the feelings! You gotta go rent it whenever you go home.”

“And if I don’t?” Grian says. He’s walked back inside temporarily to scan the horizon once again. There’s no little wisps of smoke to be found. “You’ve done such a good job explaining the plot to me already.”

“Then you aren’t allowed to come back as a lookout next summer,” Scar says petulantly. “I will remember, you know. I’ll ask you every time until you see it. Eventually it’ll get so annoying you’ll have to watch it. ”

And it’s–it’s at this moment where the reality of this hits Grian once again. The wind feels colder than it did a moment ago. Scar thinks Grian might come back next year. And maybe that’s some of Grian’s fault, because he’d played up how much he wanted this job when he was interviewed for it. When he answered the newspaper ad with his resume and application, he’d asked for placement in Shoshone National Forest as his first and only preference. He’d emphasized this location specifically. They must all think of him as particularly enthusiastic for fire-watching.

But the only thing that mattered about this location, this national forest, this tower, this job, was Mumbo. He just has to get close. He was sent home empty-handed last time, the search parties had eventually turned from “rescue” to “recovery,” searches were altered and stopped due to fires and eventually stalled altogether when the weather finally turned in the fall. So he just…he has to get close, because Denver is too far away, but as long as Grian is right here it’ll all be fine and he can fix it.

Grian has plans to skip town the moment he finds Mumbo.

“Do you think I’m coming back?” he asks quietly.

Scar seems to interpret the question a little differently than Grian meant it. “I think you’re doing great G-man,” he says. “You’ve learned everything so quickly. I don’t see why they wouldn’t hire you for next summer. You’re so thorough and determined to get things right that the Forest Service would be dumb if they weren’t glad to have you.”

“Uh,” Grian says, a little unclear on how to accept a compliment. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Scar continues, “as your supervisor, I can report any issues I see with you, so you’d maybe wanna think about seeing Top Gun. Wouldn’t want me to mark you as deficient, of course.”

“This is manipulation,” Grian says. “I’m telling everyone that this is an unsafe workplace. I’m being coerced! Coerced into seeing a plane movie!”

“Grian,” Scar cries, scandalized. “How could you possibly call it a ‘plane movie’ after everything I’ve just told you! Were you even listening?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grian says. “Synth, danger zone, F-14s, motorcycles, need for speed, volleyball. Is that all?”

��There’s so much more than that! But, well, maybe that too. It’s a lot of fun.” Scar pauses for a moment, and Grian uses the space to try and think of something else to banter back with, but before he gets a chance Scar speaks again, softer this time.

“I liked Goose’s death,” he says, before quickly walking that statement back into something a little less shocking. “Or–I didn’t like it, it made me sad but…things happen, I guess. It was an accident. It was preventable. It wasn’t Mav’s fault. But he was still…guilty, when he grieved. And we watched him grieve.”

“Oh,” Grian says, and he doesn’t really know what else to add to that. “That sounds nice.”

“It is. I told you it’s my favorite movie.”

“Maybe I should watch it.”

»»———-　　———-««

June 1989

Some hikers stop by in the early morning, just after Grian makes his weather report of the day. They are the first people he’s actually seen since he started not quite a full month ago, although Scar told him there’d likely be more as they got deeper into the summer. Particularly, he said, there might be more tourists this year since people want to check the extent of the damages from the severe fires last year. A lot of people had been concerned that the whole Yellowstone area burned to the ground after the media firestorm, you see, and wanted to see it for themselves.

The hikers are keenly interested in the tower and happy to ask Grian questions about it, which he answers to the best of his ability. He lets them briefly tour the lookout tower–it’s a small room so there’s not much to see and it’s cramped with three additional people in it. They look out the windows at all of the country they’ve been hiking through and trace their paths along the mountains. Grian points out Jonesy Lake, the place they’d been camping, to the west.

It feels like being put on the spot though, to answer all these questions with so little experience in the job, so he’s happy when they decide to get going a few minutes later.

“I saw some hikers,” Grian says into his radio, watching them hike away until they disappear into the forest again.

“Are they on their way out?” Scar asks.

“Yeah,” Grian says. “I told them about the storm this afternoon and they said they knew about it and were heading back.”

“Hm, that’s good at least,” Scar says. He sighs. “They were leaving on your trail?”

“Yeah.”

“That trail is difficult,” Scar says, and Grian agrees–it’s one of the reasons he’s opted to not go back into town on his days off. It’s just too much trouble. The other reason is that his days off are already preoccupied with a more important activity. “Maybe you should contact the rangers and give them a heads up that these people are on the trail.”

“Like what?” Grian asks. “You don’t think they’re going to make it?”

“They might,” Scar says. He sounds tired. “They might not. Last thing we need is a couple of drenched wet freezing hikers on that trail. If you give the rangers a heads up, they might be able to check the trailhead to make sure they got back to their car on-time.”

“Copy that,” Grian says. “I’ll be back.”

He flips the radio back to the official frequency, the one that broadcasts forest-wide, and calls in. He always feels a little self-conscious on this line, never quite sure of who can hear him. It goes out to dispatch, fire crews, other lookouts, rangers, and any hobbyist who might know the frequencies to listen in on. There’s dozens of unknown ears listening to his every word.

He waits a moment, making sure he isn’t interrupting any priority call taking place, and proceeds when the channel is silent.

“Dispatch, this is Two Forks.”

“Two Forks, proceed,” comes the response.

“Reporting three hikers that stopped at the tower this morning around 9:30 am,” he says. “They were traveling from Jonesy Lake onto the Thorofare trail back to the trailhead. It’s a long hike and I’m concerned they might get caught in the storm this afternoon before they make it back so I’m giving a heads up.”

“Copy that,” Dispatch says. “We’ll check the trailhead after the storm to make sure they made it back. We’ll be able to find their permit too. Pay attention this afternoon, Two Forks, it’s officially fire season now.”

“Affirmative,” Grian says.

He flips his radio’s frequency to the now-familiar channel he and Scar use exclusively.

“I reported the hikers to the Service,” he says. “They said they’ll check the trailhead later to see if they made it back. I didn’t know their vehicle, of course, but I doubt there’s any others there right now besides mine.”

“Oh, good,” Scar says.

There’s something brushing the back of Grian’s mind today. Scar just sounds different. “How are you this morning, Thorofare?” Grian asks. “It’s been so long since we did the weather report an hour ago.”

“I’m fine,” Scar says with another sigh, which really isn’t like him at all.

“You sound bad.”

“Thanks, G-man,” Scar says sarcastically before admitting: “It’s the storm. The weather changes always make everything hurt more.”

“Hurt more?” Grian asks. It’s something he’s heard people complain about, but nothing he’s ever experienced.

“It makes my joints hurt,” Scar says. “More than usual, I guess.”

“Do you have any pain medicine in your lookout?”

“It doesn’t really help,” Scar says. “Not anymore.”

“Oh,” Grian says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” he says, but the slight edge in his voice is telling Grian that used to it doesn’t mean can’t feel it.

“Why does it hurt?” Grian asks.

“What do you mean why?” Scar replies. “Like, in general? No clue. Weather changes seem to make it worse. It’s also worse in the winter but I’m not in this tower in the winter so I’ve got a little more control over how I deal with it then. But as for why me, it’s because of old injuries.”

“That sounds awful,” Grian says. “Can I help? I mean, I don’t know how since I’m all the way over here but…if you think of anything.”

“You could talk to me,” Scar says. “It’ll either distract me or overwhelm me but we could try.”

“Okay. Um, what do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me a funny story from England,” he says.

Grian stops for a moment to think. What’s a good funny story? He probably has many of them, but it’s hard to pick one specific scenario out, so he narrows it down to his university years and immediately remembers a good one.

“Right,” he says. “I had a lot of friends in university.”

“Showing off?” Scar says. “Mr. Popular?”

“Shush,” Grian says. “I’m telling you a story. A lot of people I knew in college, and even a few from secondary school went to the same university as me so I basically already knew them.”

Grian slowly spins around in his tower, giving the hills near and far a glance over. There’s no smoke to be seen, but he can already tell that big clouds have built on the horizon. They won’t all be storm clouds, but the weather is clearly right for it. He goes back to his story.

“I had this one group of friends: Timmy, Martyn, and Joel. Most of us were studying different things but we had some overlapping time and liked to hang out after class. Joel had made really close friends with a girl named Lizzie, and we’d ended up spending a lot of time with her too. Anyway, in this story though, we’d gone to the pub without her.”

“I don’t think anything has ever gone wrong at a pub,” Scar says solemnly.

Grian laughs. “Yeah, alright, we all got super drunk at the pub. It’s 11 pm, we’re all drunk, and Joel announces he wants to confess his love for Lizzie. And this is like, the best idea we’ve ever heard, because Lizzie is super cool, maybe even cooler than Joel is. So we’re like, let’s go now.”

“Oh no…”

“Have no fear, Scar,” Grian says. “I told you it was a fun story.”

Grian continues. “We leave the pub and decide to go find her flat near campus. We got turned around once or twice because Timmy’s awful at navigation and the one person who actually knew where she lived, Joel, was too busy trying to come up with poetry or something. I don’t know. It was nearly midnight when we finally found her flat, but her light was on so we knew she was home.”

“Did you guys throw rocks at her window?” Scar asks. “Like a modern Romeo and Juliet?”

“I thought about that actually,” Grian says. “But she had a ground floor entrance so Martyn just said we should knock on the door instead. Which was probably a smarter option, honestly.”

“Did she answer?”

“Her roommate did, actually, but she just rolled her eyes and went to go fetch Lizzie. The rest of us stood back while Joel presented her with a gift, which was actually just some small yard ornament he stole off of someone’s front garden a little down the street. I didn’t actually remember that part, Lizzie told it to me. She made him go put it back the next morning.”

Grian sighs and shakes his head a little, a smile on his face at the memory. They’d been so dumb, but he’d give anything to be back there right now. Back then, he had all his friends–now, they were all either across oceans or in different countries, or both. Or…or they were missing.

He shakes his head again, this time not at the thought of his previous shenanigans, but to dispel the darker thoughts from his mind before the cloud out the funny memory.

He continues, “When she answered the door, Joel had some great speech planned. Well, I don’t know if it was actually great. I did mention we were all pretty drunk. It sounded good to me, though. He said he was in love with her and she was so smart and so pretty and he wanted to go on a date with her. And then she started laughing, so hard she almost started crying.”

“What?”

“We were all confused too. But then she wiped her tears and said, and I remember these words as clearly as if it was yesterday. She said, ‘Joel, we’ve been dating for three months now.’”

“Wait, really?” Scar says. “They were already dating? Did you just not know or forget?”

“Dude, I don’t think I could have defined what was going on with the two of them if I tried. I'm not convinced Joel knew how to define it either until then.”

“That was a good story,” Scar says. “I gotta know, though! Did it work out?”

Grian grins. “Well, they got married a few years later, so I think it did.”

"Aww! I love a fairytale ending," Scar says.

"Did you go to university?" Grian asks. "We were all so stupid then. I’m not convinced we’re any less stupid now, we just know how to act like we aren’t."

"Uh, no," Scar says. "I did some work in landscaping though. Before all this."

"I was an architect."

Grian wonders if that career is all but shot. It’s an unexpectedly painful thought to have, but it had been his dream job for so long. He'd only been just done with certification and doing his own clients during the time they'd been in Colorado. He wasn't exceptionally experienced or anything.

He hadn't left the job on good terms either, with a string of no-shows, subsequent disciplinary actions, and a final letter of resignation wherein he specifically wrote he planned to take this lookout job because "nobody believed in Mumbo but him."

He winces. All his past coworkers probably thought he was insane. Maybe he was.

"Ooh, now that's a fancy job," Scar says.

Grian wants to move on from this discussion, before Scar has a chance to ask why he's here instead of at that fancy job, so he quickly says: "It's your turn for a question now. Ask me anything."

It occurs to Grian after he saysvthis that maybe telling Scar to ask him anything didn't exactly save him from the potential of awkward questions and just opened him up to a wider world of awkward questions. He's already tossed the ball back to Scar though, so now he just has to wait.

Scar is silent on the other end of the line for a while, and when he speaks again there's a more somber quality in his voice.

"What's the worst pain you've ever felt?" he asks.

Yeah, he should have just asked Scar to trade another funny story instead. Because he just…can’t answer this. He sucks in a breath, trying to steady the way his heart rate spiked with just that one question.

It’s a question that pulls him back into that black hole that threatens to break open his chest everyday. He's circling the event horizon. They should've stuck to funny stories.

Grian scrambles for a safe answer, one that doesn't involve the marked up topo maps in between the books on his desk–hastily slotted out of view from the earlier hikers–or missing posters. An answer that keeps his head above water for this conversation.

There’s just, there’s just a certain kind of whiplash from talking about funny experiences with his friends in university –friends who weren’t even Mumbo–and then being reminded of the elephant in the room once again. He carries that pain with him wherever he goes now.

He isn’t the person he used to be in university in England, or when he was an architect in Denver.

He looks down at the radio in his hand that demands his immediate reply, and his attention flicks to his forearm.

“I broke my wrist two years ago,” he blurts out. “It’s a funnier story than it sounds, I promise.”

This is a safe memory. It’s even a safe memory of Mumbo, because even though the edges of it are vignetted with pain, the memory still sticks out brightly as something that makes Grian smile. It still hurt, of course. Grian didn’t enjoy breaking his wrist. That wasn’t why it made him smile.

It’s just that the memory of Mumbo following him around their flat like a puppy for a week apologizing to him sticks out more than the white-hot shock of pain when it happened. It’s Grian calmly navigating them to the ER because Mumbo was the one who was almost too freaked out to drive, something Grian teased him about endlessly.

“Ouch,” Scar says. “I sure know that feeling.”

“I fell off a bike,” Grian says. “Well, that makes it sound too simple. It was more like I lost control on a steep hill, drove it off trail, crashed, and my poor wrist took the worst of it when I tried to catch my fall.”

“Oh no! Did they do surgery?” Scar asks.

“No, it healed by itself, fortunately,” Grian says, and decides to tell the rest of the story anyway since it makes him smile. “I’d gotten my roommate a mountain bike as a gift, since he was really interested in that stuff. He loved it–although we actually had to take it back and get another one ‘cause he was too tall for the one I bought, but he said it was the thought that counted. He was so excited to try it that he made me come with him and rent my own bike.”

“Which you then immediately crashed?”

Grian sighs. “Pretty much. You should’ve seen his face, though. I think he was panicking more about it than me. I was like, okay, we’ll just walk back to the car and go to the ER, you can help me walk the bike up this hill. But I thought he was going to pass out!” Grian smiles. “I got a lot of leverage out of that, though, since he’s the one who talked me into it.”

“Oh, I have no trouble believing that,” Scar says. “So no biking for you?”

“No,” Grian says. “I’ll just walk, thank you. Besides, I had to pay for repairing that rental!”

“Mm, more options for hiking trails that way anyway.”

Grian scans the horizon again, eyes lingering on Scar’s lookout just a little longer than necessary. “What’s yours?” he asks. “The worst pain, I mean.”

Scar doesn’t answer for a moment. It’s not a long enough moment to assume he didn’t plan on answering at all, but right after Grian speaks it hits him. He wants to slap himself. “Oh. It’s the old injuries you mentioned earlier. The ones that still hurt right now.”

“Something like that,” Scar replies.

“What was it?” Grian says. “Can I ask?”

“I was in a really bad car accident a few years ago,” Scar says. He’s miles away but sounds more distant than usual. “It nearly killed me, actually. I broke a lot of bones, spent a lot of time in the hospital, recovered for a long time, you get it.”

“That’s awful,” Grian says. “I’m really sorry.”

“Well,” Scar says. “It happened, I guess. Nothing you can do about that.”

“For what it’s worth,” Grian says, “I’m glad it didn’t kill you.”

When Scar speaks again, it’s quieter than before. “I don’t know if I always felt the same,” he says. “But I think I do now, these days.”

Oh. Grian doesn’t even have words to say to that, but he doesn’t need to, because Scar is still holding his radio’s button down. Still on the line, preventing Grian from responding.

Scar sighs. “Listen, it’s been nice chatting with you G, but I have to go feed Jellie and do a few things before this storm hits, so I gotta let you go.” His voice is brisk now.

“Um, okay,” Grian responds. “Do you feel any better? Did it distract you?”

“It gave me something else to focus on,” Scar says firmly. “But now I need to go. Talk to you when the storm hits, okay?”

“Okay.”

»»———-　　———-««

The National Weather Service in Riverton has issued a severe thunderstorm warning for Park County in Northwestern Wyoming, Teton County in Northwestern Wyoming, Fremont County in Northwestern Wyoming, Hot Springs County in Northwestern Wyoming until 6:00 PM.

At 4:26 PM, a severe thunderstorm was located over Yellowstone National Park moving west at 40 miles per hour. Hazard…60 miles per hour wind gusts and quarter sized hail. Impact…Hail damage to vehicles is expected. Expect wind damage to roofs, siding, trees, and/or power lines.

Locations impacted include Yellowstone National Park, Canyon Village, Shoshone National Forest, Wapiti, Cody, Powell, Teton Village, Jackson, Meeteetse, Dubois. For your protection move to an interior room on the lowest floor of a building or get inside a sturdy structure and stay away from windows.

Along with large hail and damaging winds, continuous cloud to ground lightning is occurring with this storm. Move indoors immediately. Lightning is one of nature’s leading killers. Remember, if you can hear thunder, you are close enough to be struck by lightning…

The message ends with a harsh beeping tone, and Grian turns the volume down before it can repeat itself. The message had cut in and out with static the entire time, probably due to the distance and the mountains, even though it was being transmitted from Cody. A moment later, Grian flips the channel from the National Weather Service frequency back to the one he and Scar use, which is surprisingly stable.

Grian steps out onto the deck surrounding his tower. The sky is dark blue to the west, and the tops of the trees are already being picked up by the wind. It’s a little disconcerting, actually, to be way up in the top of the tower. The thick wooden support beams still allow a little bit of sway when the winds are strong enough.

There’s suddenly a CRASH from rolling thunder, and Grian flinches involuntarily. Right. The radio had just said that if he was close enough to hear thunder, he was close enough to be struck by lightning. Grian decides that he should step inside, instead of standing around outside.

Although, if he’s being honest with himself, inside doesn’t seem much better either. All this talk about moving to the lowest floor of a building and staying away from windows doesn’t mean much when your only shelter is a four story wooden tower on the highest mountain top around, encased on all sides by windows.

But that’s the job, isn’t it?

He doesn’t get to take shelter–if there were a place for him to take shelter in the first place–because his job is to watch from this perch. He’s supposed to be noting and locating every lightning strike he possibly can and looking carefully to see if any of them start fires. Lightning causes even more fires than humans, typically.

He’s been provided a wooden stool with glass feet to use during the storm since both of the materials are not very conductive, but that isn’t really sparking a lot of confidence in him. And there are some lightning rods and other protective grounding measures, but it’s still a little…disconcerting.

Grian’s glad he turned his radio back to its normal frequency, because Scar calls in a moment later. “Here she comes!” he cries. “I know you heard that thunder too.”

“It’s getting so dark,” Grian says.

The lights aren't on right now–although he doesn't normally need them midday anyway–so the rapidly approaching weather fills the tower with almost palpable shifting gloom. Earlier Grian had switched off the generator at the bottom of the tower and covered it with a tarp in preparation for the storm.

“This might be an interesting one,” Scar says. “We might see some of the first fires of the season in this area today.”

“That’s what they said this morning when they reported the fire risk. And what the ranger told me after I reported those hikers.”

“Lightning starts most of our fires out here,” Scar says. “They might let it burn if it’s a lightning based fire, but I’m not sure after how bad it was last year. They might want to suppress it to keep the public happy. Generally though, human-caused fires get suppressed but natural ones might be allowed to burn.”

“Yeah, you told me a few weeks ago that the ecosystem needs fire or something.”

“It gets along pretty well by itself without our help,” Scar says. “We just…like to keep the pretty parts to ourselves. Don’t wanna see ‘em get destroyed.”

“I get that,” Grian says. He sighs. “Do you feel any better?”

“Um,” Scar replies. “Not particularly.”

“Oh. I thought you sounded better.”

“Thanks, I’m good at that.”

"You shouldn't have to be good at that."

"I'd never get anything done otherwise," Scar says.

Grian turns to watching the leading edge of the storm roll in. It’s really beautiful up here, on his little perch. The sky is a dark blue-black to the west and clear to the east. The thunderhead is high and lofty. Grian can see the slopes in the distance disappearing in a curtain of rain, the same blue-gray color as the clouds.

“Keep an eye on that cloud and right around it,” Scar says a few minutes later. “We might lose visibility when it passes over us but it’s close enough now for us to count the lightning strikes.”

Just as Scar speaks, Grian spots the first one in the distance, darting down quickly to the ground and branching as it goes. It’s beautiful too. Grian quickly lines it up in the sight of his firefinder, spinning the circle around until it’s pointing directly at the strike area. He marks down the general area with a pencil on the map in the center of the disc.

Just after he finishes doing that, thunder claps and it feels like it rattles the whole cabin. Grian decides maybe it’s time for him to stand on the stool, just in case.

When the storm draws closer, the lightning will probably be too fast to keep up with. Grian’s already having issues finding them in the firefinder before another strikes. For this reason, he has a profile map of the area around his tower too, with the peaks drawn exactly in the way he can see them from the center of his tower. He marks little X’s in pencil on the areas of the slopes the lightning strikes.

“This storm has a lot of lightning,” Grian says into his radio. “How do you keep up?”

“Just try your best,” Scar says. “The profile map helps. We’re mostly trying to just remember the areas where it struck, so that later we can keep an eye on them for fire.”

“Do you think it’ll cause a fire?”

As soon as he lets go of the call button, he spies another strike, way off near Scar’s tower to the North. He dutifully marks it down. It dances down from the sky, landing somewhere in the mountains between them.

“We might not be able to tell until after the storm,” Scar says. “And sometimes it’s hard to tell right after because of fog and stuff. You’ll figure out what real smoke looks like soon enough.”

“Doesn’t the rain put these fires out?” Grian asks.

“Sometimes,” Scar says. “Sometimes they smolder for a while. We might need to keep an extra eye on these lightning strike locations for a few days in the future, which is why we're marking it down."

The thunder continues to rumble all around him, and soon rain starts to fall. They're big fat drops too, and it takes no time at all for the deck outside to be completely covered. They start to hit the windows too, so Grian squints around them as best he can. Sometimes the lightning just flashes all around him, no discernable ground contact in sight.

"I'm losing visibility," Grian says into the radio.

Scar replies, but the words are lost in the background noise of the rain and the wind and the thunder.

It's pouring buckets now, and Grian sets down his pencil. He can't see anything but rain now, and maybe the softest outline of the next closest hill, so there’s nothing to report. Experiencing the storm in this little glass cage is unique. It’s chilly, with the wetness and the clouds bringing the chill back into the normally sun-warmed cabin. It’s also very loud–the rain hitting the glass and the wood and the thunder rattling the window frames nearly drown out Grian’s own thoughts.

Grian shuts his eyes against the sway of the tower in the wind, as if he can keep it grounded by willpower alone.

The air feels charged and buzzing. Grian’s fingers feel a little tingly, and the hair on his arm starts to stand up with the static. He’s got enough presence of mind to think huh, that’s weird, before–

CRASH!

There’s a horribly loud noise all of a sudden, and Grian flinches so hard he nearly falls off the stool he’s standing on. It’s accompanied by a flash of bright light that he instinctively closes his eyes against. It’s blinding even against his eyelids. When Grian blinks them open and steadies himself, heart beating wildly out of control, everything just looks…normal. The tower is fine, and so are the misty treetops he can see closest to the tower.

It must have been lightning, it had to have been. Maybe not on the tower or in his obscured sightline, but close enough to nearly send Grian to an early grave from a heart attack. He feels horribly shaky now, and it takes him a few tries to firmly depress the button on the side of his radio.

“S-Scar,” he says. “I think there was just–there was lightning.”

He can barely hear Scar, but he thinks he says, “Did it hit the tower?”

“No–no I don’t think so,” Grian says. “But it had to be close.”

“As long as you’re okay,” comes the muffled reply.

It isn’t long before the rain begins to taper off. It isn’t long at all, actually–it’s sort of surprising how quickly the worst of it passes, but the storm had been moving quickly according to the weather service. Through the mist of rain, he can once again see the Thorofare Lookout through his northern window. With the visibility restored, he goes back to marking down lightning strikes. His map is full of them now.

“It seems like it passed,” Grian says, once the rain is just a sprinkle. “What do we do now?”

“For the rest of the day? Probably not much–the ground is really damp. But we’ll keep an eye out on the lightning strike areas for the next few days for smoke. They might send planes to inspect the forest after the storm.”

“Planes…” Grian says. “You know, it’s a wonder they still hire these jobs with all that technology available now. Why don’t they just use planes, helicopters, radars, and satellites?”

“Well, they do,” Scar says. “This is kind of a dying job? But–the difference with us is that we’re here all the time. You and me, we can get more familiar with this area by looking at it everyday than a pilot could from a couple of flybys. They’ll still need us, for a while at least.”

“For a while,” Grian repeats. “Until they replace the jobs with something cheaper.”

Scar laughs. “I’d be shocked if they can find a piece of technology cheaper than my salary,” he says.

“God, if that isn’t true,” Grian says. “I don’t know how people afford anything. My roommate wants a computer so bad but they’re, like, all a million dollars so we couldn’t get one. He’d be good at it though, he was learning computer-aided design at work. Best in the office!”

“Maybe you’ll get one eventually,” Scar says. “Not on this salary though.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Grian says. “I didn’t choose this job for the money, that’s for sure.”

The sun is breaking out behind the clouds now. Everything looks fresh and shiny and bright, glittering with illuminated raindrops. There’s a steady drip-drip from the lookout tower’s roof. With the strength of the sun, it’ll be no time at all before it’s all dry. The sky is still a deep blue to the west behind the storm, and the golden sunlit trees against the dark sky make a pleasing contrast.

Everything feels just a little new, a little fresh. He basks in the feeling.

»»———-　　———-««

It’s 11 AM. The sun is bright and the sky is blue.

"I see smoke," Grian says. "I know I was wrong last time but I'm not this time."

The smoke is rising, thin and wispy, from a forested section on the southwestern flank of Trout Peak.

"Confidence, I like that," Scar says. "Go on and give me the reading, then."

The motions are getting familiar now. The firefinder is a disc that sits in the middle of the tower on a small table. The edge of the circle, its arc, is covered in little degree markings. The firefinder is a type of alidade, which is a turning board that allows someone to determine line of sight for triangulating locations. They date back to ancient times–astronomers used a version called an astrolabe for navigation, telling time, and to locate the position of celestial bodies.

It's fascinating how, when surrounded by emerging technologies, we can turn to the very tools humanity has been using for millennia.

The disc has two sights opposite to each other: an upper sight with a peep hole and a lower sight with two crosshairs. Grian spins them around the arc until he is in the vicinity of the smoke, and then looks through the upper sight. He marks the degree that the opposite crosshair has landed on around the arc. That’s the azimuth of the fire. The azimuth is the horizontal angle from a cardinal direction–this fire sits northwest of Grian’s tower, and its azimuth is 321°. For a more precise measurement he takes the minutes off of the vernier, another set of markings that rotates around the base of the firefinder. His final reading is 321° 45’.

Then he looks at the map that is permanently fixed to the center of the disc. His lookout tower is situated in the middle. Grian can estimate the distance on the map from a metal tape that stretches across. Given the scale of the map, two miles is represented by an inch–Trout Peak is 5 inches on the map, so it is 10 miles away.

The upper peep hole has markings that are used to determine the vertical height of the fire, but which ones to use are dependent on if the fire is above or below the lookout. This fire is below Grian’s perch on the mountaintop, so when he looks through the sight to the crosshair on the opposite side of the firefinder, he uses the bottom crosshair.

It’s measuring -8°, so Grian does a little math. He knows the height of his lookout, he knows the distance of the fire, and now that he knows the vertical angle he can determine how much lower the fire is than him. Once he gets the number he subtracts it from his own elevation. Now he knows the fire is at an elevation of 7,150 feet.

So to recap: he’s got a fire northwest at 321° 45’, 10 miles away, at 7,150 feet above sea level.

He relays this information to Scar on the radio.

“Excellent!” Scar cries. “Here, I can see the fire so I’ll give you my measurements too. Where our azimuths cross will be the exact location. With all of this information, they’ll definitely be able to find the fire.”

Scar already has the numbers ready, indicating he did his own measurements while waiting for Grian to complete his. Scar probably made them faster, too, but Grian’s choosing to be proud of himself instead. This work is a lot more complicated than he expected it to be in the beginning. He writes down Scar’s information on a stray piece of paper nearby.

“Do you want to make the report?” Scar says. “I mean, you sighted it so it’s yours. It’ll look good for you.”

“Alright,” Grian says, “talk to you in a bit.”

He goes back onto the official channel and reports the fire to the Forest Service. He gives both his and Scar’s measurements, along with a general description of the area and nearby landmarks. He includes information on the probable cause of the fire–lightning from the storm two days ago–and the sort of landscape it is burning in. He gives an approximation of the size of the fire too. It’s a small one.

They thank him for his report and promise to give updates through the official channel. Scar’s got a second radio tuned to that all the time, so Grian flips his channel back to the one he and Scar use exclusively.

“I did it,” he says.

“Good job!” Scar says. “And good eye to notice that smoke.”

“I don’t know if I have good eyes,” Grian chuckles. “I wear glasses, you know. The Forest Service wasn’t very happy with that but I passed the eye test as long as I could wear them so they just made me bring two pairs in case one gets broken.”

“Aw, you have glasses? Are they those big silly ones? I hope they’re those big silly ones, you’d look good in them. So fashionable."

“Scar, you have no idea what I look like.”

“I’m correct though, aren’t I?”

Grian rolls his eyes. “No comment.”

“By the way,” Scar says. “You did good reporting those hikers earlier in the week.”

This snags Grian’s attention immediately. “Did they get lost?” he asks.

“I don’t think they were lost, but they were definitely unable to get back to their car before the storm hit. A ranger went up the trail after the storm passed and found them part of the way down, soaking wet. He helped them warm up and get back.”

“They must have been cold,” Grian says. “It’s warm out but not warm enough to be caught in a thunderstorm.”

“Oh for sure,” Scar says. “It’s possible they would have made it back fine but it’s also possible that being wet and cold could have slowed them down enough to be in big trouble. It just got colder over the evening and they might not have been able to start a fire with all of the tinder being wet.”

“It’s weird how badly everything can go wrong,” Grian muses. “And how quickly.”

“You did a good thing, though,” Scar says. “You helped someone. That’s what we’re here for.”

“I’m glad they’re safe,” Grian says, and for some reason he has a lump in his throat again. It’s like he can’t get away from it, this pain that rubs against his every movement. He can’t even be happy with a compliment to his work, or proud of himself for spotting a fire, because it always boomerangs right back into despair and self-pitying.

It’s a hole he can’t escape. He helped someone, but he can’t help himself, can’t help Mumbo.

He hopes Mumbo is somewhere warm, right now.

»»———-　　———-««

There’s nothing but the soft wind in the trees and the crunch of Grian’s boots in the gravel as he steadily climbs the hill to his lookout. The late afternoon light slants on the ground, throwing shadows across his path. But it’s well into summer now, and the sun doesn’t set until 9 PM, so there’s hours of warm light left.

It’s a little strange that the small cabin feels like home now, but after sleeping in a tent for three nights that’s exactly what it feels like. Grian’s work schedule grants him days off just like any job–sometimes he works 10 days on for 4 days off, like he did this week. Further into fire season, his hours will probably lengthen.

Most lookouts go into town on their days off for a taste of civilization, but Grian doesn’t. His reasons are twofold. First, he’d rather not sacrifice two days of his break just to hike that difficult trail in and out.

Second, he’s still not lost sight of his original goal: finding Mumbo.

He spent most of the last few days searching an area on the edge of his lookout territory called Deer Creek. On paper, it’s a perfect spot–there’s a year-round water supply close by, some sheltered areas between rocky outcroppings and forest, and perhaps even some very old structures from historic homesteads or ranches.

Of course, he’s coming home once again empty-handed. He saw several hawks, an elk, a fox, and some deer, and no Mumbo.

As he approaches the tower, the generator is turned off, so Grian goes to turn it on again. The Forest Service had assigned a temporary volunteer lookout to cover his shift while he was gone, but that person had left early this morning in order to get back to the trailhead. They must have turned off the generator before they left to save propane.

Grian will have to ask Scar if the volunteer was as interesting to talk to as he is. He hasn’t spoken to Scar in several days, in order to save the battery on his radio. His radio’s charger is plugged in at the tower, although he has extra batteries for emergencies.

The first thing Grian notices when he walks up to the base of the tower is that there’s an object leaned against the stairs. It’s a bicycle of some sort. He first wonders if it’s something the volunteer lookout left behind, but that doesn’t make any sense. It’s too perfectly placed for him to find it.

It’s too…familiar?

It’s a bicycle of some sort, except that when Grian really looks at it for the first time he freezes, because it’s the sort of bicycle that Grian recognizes instantly. Grian stops in his tracks, and suddenly his heartbeat is loud in his ears. His eyes dart all over the bike, taking in every tiny detail.

It’s painted in what was once bright green and yellow, but the color is faded from the sun and rusty from exposure. There’s scratches on it, and the chain looks clearly messed up.

It’s a lot worse for wear than the day Grian bought it, but he’d never forget what it looked like. He’s been looking for it for a year now.

Why is Mumbo’s mountain bike leaned against the Two Forks tower staircase?

<< Chapter Two | Masterpost | Chapter Four >>

#hermitcraft #grian #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #hermitcraft fanfic #quara fanfic #hc_firewatch_au

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mudhamster · 5 months

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CHWHWN: 20. December - "Hug"

He was standing in the large common room of the dorms, having just released the warm embrace with Ochako (so much for that), when his cell phone rang. "Yes?" It was his mother, and judging by the pitch of her generally high-pitched voice, she was thrilled. "Mom, I can't understand a word you're saying, can I call you back? We're -" "Izuku!" she said, "You always wanted to go to America, right?" "Uh, yeah," he agreed, tugging at his lip, "but what made you think that now?" Todoroki walked past him and put a hand on his shoulder as a gesture of farewell. "We can go there for Christmas!" His grin became strained as he watched his friends carry their bags to the large collection point by the door, and he couldn't say goodbye to them properly without curbing his mother's euphoria. On the phone, she explained the sudden offer in general terms. She asked if he would be interested in flying to the States with her and her new boyfriend for the holidays. Because of his job, he would have a spacious hotel room, and they would not have to pay anything for the time they would be away for the holidays. It would be awesome! So much for thinking he had four more chances! His first impulse was, of course, an overjoyed yes. It wasn't just the States that had always appealed to him, but the thought of being there when his Mum crossed the border for the first time was wonderful. She bombarded his ear with places, sights and things Izuku didn't understand with her sweet but terrible pronunciation. He could feel her anticipation through the phone, could almost taste it. She had been all alone since the day he had moved into the dorms. Now, she had the opportunity to go on vacation for the first time in her life, to a distant continent, with the love of her life. But would all sleep in one large room. His mother and her boyfriend and… Izuku too. And that on the other hand… wasn't really something he was looking forward to. "Would it be okay if you go without me?" he had asked impulsively while he had watched Krishima and Hanta dragging their suitcases down the stairs. Ochako was already at the door, ready to leave the dorms behind for the holidays. "What!? Why?" Snow rushed into the room as someone pushed open the front door. He had waved across the room to Ochako, catching her thrown air kiss with a little hop and hugging it to his chest. "Some of us got together yesterday and we'd like to stay here. We're celebrating Christmas together as friends," he lied sweetly, turning away from the other people in the room who were putting on their shoes and wrapping themselves in scarves. "Oh my God, darling. This is beautiful." "Hm, yeah." "And you're really sure? We'll take the flight tomorrow, you could still change your mind?" "No, Mom. Really. Go on, I'm happy for you!" "…and that would really be okay with you?" "Yes, Mom, I promise." "Well, if you say so," she murmured, clearly unsure, "I'll send you a card. Take pictures! This is our first Christmas apart." "I will," he promised as Shouto stepped over the threshold and looked at him over his shoulder, "I have to go now." "All right, have fun, sweetheart." "Will do, love you!" "Love you too!" Right after that, he had stumbled to the door and hugged Shouto and Ochako super hard one last time and wished them a Merry Christmas. And a happy new year. And made them promise to send pictures. Then a cab had taken Kirishima, Hanta and his two best friends to the train station. Iida had said he would leave in the early hours of the morning, since he had to travel farther and longer than the others. But of course, he couldn't be the first to leave. Honor and all that he had as a class rep. Kaminari had asked if he still had room in the cab, so they decided to take the first train. Together with Tsuyu.

By tomorrow nearly all of his friends would be gone. While everyone was planning their holidays, he had canceled Christmas Eve with his mother. And only then did Izuku realize what he had just done. He had lied to his mother. He had refused the flight. He had just said goodbye to his closest friends. He would be alone on Christmas, here in a huge building. Entirely ... alone.

His fingers twitched as he briefly considered calling his mother back. Then he vehemently decided against it. He jogged to his room, shoved his cell phone under his pillow, packed his gym bag, and went to the training rooms to block out his growing worries. He punched and kicked and ran until night fell and the windows resembled black marble, then he took a long, much too hot shower and fell into bed long after midnight, completely exhausted. The distraction had certainly worked. In the meantime, he had received 4 messages on his phone. The next morning, there was only one left to see.

Kacchan: *image attached* Deleted message Deleted message Deleted message

#bkdk #mha #bakudeku #izuku midoriya #boku no hero academia #fanfiction #kacchan #fluff #deku #chwhwn #christmas #christmas calendar #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #katsuki bakugou

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itzpris15634 · 4 days

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Today’s Plans… (ft. Vinnie x Sunil)

“So first off, we’ll head to our favorite cafe to get our drinks! We can have our breakfast with the pastries from there, too! And even better, we can go to the amusement park or so. I really gotta try winning one of those big plushies. There are some nice restuarants we could go to for lunch. And after that… tickets to West Side Story!”

Vinnie skipped along the sidewalk, talking excitedly about all the ideas he had for the day. Sunil tried to keep up.

“West Side Story? Is that another one of your musicals?”

“Hell yeah! And I’m so excited for this one! I mean, the story, yeah- pretty sure its a Romeo and Juliet style thing? Dunno. What I really care about will be the choreography! I’m gonna really enjoy that one, because its styles are inspired by…”

As Vinnie ranted, Sunil chuckled. It was so nice seeing Vinnie so happy and excited.

Sunil had never been interested in drama or theatre before, if he was being honest. But who said he couldn’t get started now? Especially if Vinnie enjoyed it so much, he’d be willing to give it a try. Maybe he’d find a new favorite thing.

At the back of his mind, however, Sunil felt like he was forgetting something very, very important…

“Alrighty, cafe’s just around the corner, I think. Ready to enjoy coffee?” Vinnie turned to Sunil, giving him his biggest smile.

…Whatever that thing he forgot was, he’d worry about it later.

“More than ready.”

“Aw man, the line is really long today…” Vinnie groaned seeing the long line of people. It even extended out the doors of the little establishment.

“Do you not want to line up at another cafe? I am sure they can make just as good coffee in other places.”

“Hmm, nah. Bliss’s Beans just hit different. Besides, neither of us are in any rush, are we?”

That was a good question.

“I suppose. We… can take our time and converse while waiting for our turn at the counter.” Sunil shrugged.

“Yeah, sounds good!”

All of a sudden, Sunil felt a vibration in his pocket.

“Wait, someone is calling me…” he fished the vibrating object out- his phone.

“Hm? Who?”

“It’s one of my bandmates.”

A press of the button, and Sunil was on call.

“Scarletta! Hello. How is it going? … Uh, I am in line at a cafe with my boyfriend… Yes, it’s Vinnie. We finally did get together! Proud of me?”

Vinnie felt a bit of pride swell within him. The idea that Sunil was comfortable enough to share their relationship with people even outside of their usual friengroup? It made Vinnie smile.

The smile faltered at the next part of the conversation, however.

A panicked look came onto Sunil’s face, “B-band practice?! You didn’t tell me there would be-… Oh. I just… I’m so sorry! I was occupied so many things and I… So what? Should I still be the- actually, what am I saying? I’m the guitarist, of course I am needed… Look, Scarletta, I’ll see what I can do, okay? Tell the others to wait a little longer, okay? Bye!”

Sunil hung up. He turned back to Vinnie, whose arms were crossed, and foot was tapping on the floor.

“…I thought you told me you didn’t have any plans for today.”

“I was not aware! I got so busy, I forgot that I had that rehearsal with everyone scheduled and- uh…“

“Hey, Sunil. I get it, really. I forget stuff all the time, really. But… let me give you my input. We were looking forward to this all week. And I spent so much money for these tickets, too!”

“Vinnie, I- hold on, please. Is there a compromise we can come to somehow?”

“Uh… check with your band buddies about how long your rehearsals will take? Maybe we can still make it to the show later, if its short enough.”

“I will try that now.”

Sunil brought out his phone again and started typing away at it.

Vinnie studied Sunil’s expressions. Nervousness, anticipation, surprise at getting the text notification.

“Uhh… If we start now, they’re saying that it’ll last about 3 hours.”

“And what time is it now, again?”

“8 AM…”

Taking a ticket out of his pocket, Vinnie checked the little print on it, “The show’s at 1.”

“Not as bad as I thought! Though, I suppose that cancels all our other plans for today…”

“Hey, not everything is cancelled. Don’t get me wrong, I am a little disappointed we can’t go to the amusement park. Lunch, we’ll figure it out later. But- We can still enjoy some things from the cafe! Even if not while in the cafe itself, we’ll have to take the stuff to go.”

“‘We’ll!?”

“I’m hoping your bandmates don’t mind a bit of an audience, because I’m coming with you! I’ve always wanted to watch one of your rehearsals.”

===

Day 17: coffee-to-go

I… I did it. I managed to crank it out.

I WILL NOT BREAK MY STREAK!!!!!!

#lps 2012 #vinnie terrio #sunil nevla #fanfic

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 year

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Prince’s Protected

Prompt: Hello, not sure if you got my other ask stattingbthis while ago or not, and if you did feel free to ignore this but I love all your superhero au come now, little prince and for a prompt idea if your interested I thought of all the charters interacting with eachother bc in all your chapters you lead up to other superheros living with janus but we never got to see how they interact in a domestic setting like that. Hope you are having a good day - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: past trauma alluded to, stabbings

Pairings: roceit and dukeceit are the most obvious

Word Count: 4519

Janus should have anticipated that the first thing he would need to address when adopting several traumatized little heroes was ensuring they knew they had the right to food.

Did he ever expect to have to do this? No, not in the slightest, but then a pesky little prince ended up bloodied and on his knees outside his door one night, and, well…here they are.

That being said, it was difficult to fathom that he had simply walked into the kitchen downstairs one morning and found one of them dropping a bag of stale cereal like it was some precious gem he'd been caught stealing.

"Shh, little hero," Janus says quickly, holding his hands up in what he hopes is a placating manner, "it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe, little hero, it's okay."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to steal, I promise, I just—"

"Hush, little hero." He hazards a step closer and hisses softly when the little hero drops to his knees. "Don't do that, little one, it's alright. Take a deep breath."

He sighs when the little hero peers up at him, eyes wide with tears.

"Hello," he murmurs, sinking to a crouch too, "there you are. Remind me of your name, little hero?"

"P-Patton."

"Patton," he says, trying to soften his voice around the name, "hello, Patton. Are you hungry?"

Patton nods.

"Alright. I think we've got something better in this kitchen than stale cereal, hm? Can I stand up and come over to you?"

It takes a tad longer than Janus's knees would like for Patton to nod, but he does, he does, and Janus smiles, standing up and crossing over to crouch in front of him.

"Hello, Patton," he murmurs, "thank you for letting me come over. What do you like to eat?"

Patton eyes him warily. Janus has a sudden memory of Roman's reaction when he'd told him he can't eat apples off the core, he has to cut them up, and soothes the part of him that wants to kill the Cyrus Corporation all over again. He takes a deep breath.

"Well, I'm in the mood for a sandwich. Would you like one too?"

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir."

"There's no need for all of that, little hero. If you're hungry, you should eat."

He's met with another suspicious stare and he forces himself to get up, to go to the cupboards and get the ingredients to make a sandwich. He leaves too many of them out on the counter for Patton to pick through, patiently assembling one sandwich and setting it on a plate before feigning a yawn.

"Forgive me, little hero," he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes, "could you make your own sandwich?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mm." Janus picks up his plate and carries it to the other end of the kitchen, sitting on a stool and taking a bite from his sandwich.

There is a strange juxtaposition to how Patton makes his sandwich. He moves as quickly and efficiently as any trained chef—better than some of them, if Janus is to be honest, perhaps if the little hero shows a passion for cooking, he can work in one of the restaurants around here—but he has the same exuberance and wonder as a child as he carefully picks ingredients that he seems to like. Every now and then he'll look up at Janus for reassurance that it's okay, that he's doing okay, and every time Janus just nods.

When he's assembled his sandwich, he just stares at it.

"I doubt it's going to taste very good unless you try it," Janus encourages, watching as Patton slowly takes a bite. "Good?"

He nods.

"Good."

They eat their sandwiches in the half-dark of the kitchen. When they're finished, Patton slowly looks up and bows his head. "Thank you."

"I meant what I said, little hero," Janus murmurs, "if you're hungry, eat. This food in the kitchen is for you."

He's not sure, that night, if Patton believes him, but the next time he goes to that kitchen, there's a sandwich waiting for him.

Stormcloud is…challenging.

The little hero is a feral cat, swiping at anyone who gets too close and baring his teeth at Janus when he thinks he can get away with it. This on its own would not be a problem—many of the...less than enthusiastic members of Janus's network start out much the same way. He is used to dealing with the swipes and claws from pesky kits.

What he isn't used to is that this is the little prince's protected. This is not someone who will become a tool of his—not like that, not ever, not if he has anything to say about it—and so he cannot simply break him. If Stormcloud hasn't broken under Cyrus, Janus won't be the one to do it.

So he must be careful.

There are a few things that Stormcloud hoardes. A soft black hoodie, left in the wash by accident with the rest of the clothes given to him that the kit curls around to sleep. There's a single purple button that fell off of…something, probably, and he's never seen anyone pounce quite like Stormcloud did when he found it. Dignity seems to be the last thing on his mind as he scrambles and scrabbles for things that are his, and part of Janus respects that.

The other part of him is still seething that this child feels the need to defend what is his with such ferocity.

So he finds the things that Stormcloud likes and allows it.

The hoodie is never taken from him, never touched, never disturbed. He doesn't have it taken when it comes time to do laundry, doesn't dare let anyone so much as approach it. He gets sloppier, leaving more and more items of clothing in the wash to see what Stormcloud will take. Another hoodie, a purple t-shirt, and one little scrap of red on the end of a white t-shirt that Janus accidentally ripped. One night, he actually catches Stormcloud holding it like a comfort teddy.

He makes sure Stormcloud sees Roman the next day.

Slowly, slowly. Trust is not a quick-time event, of course, and so he lets Stormcloud decide when and how he's going to extend it.

Then, almost right after Roman spent the night with him, Stormcloud starts to follow him.

Only ever in the communal areas with easy escape routes, and only when Janus is most decidedly alone, save for one of the others, but a dark shadow begins to lurk in the corners of the room, just out of Janus's direct line of sight.

The snake hisses, curling into a chair and letting the kit prowl around, scoping him out. It's oddly endearing in a bizarre sort of way, watching Stormcloud creep closer and closer, lingering just out of reach, but very much there. He smiles to himself when he catches him perched on top of the fridge one evening. Acrobatic little kit, aren't we?

Then again, he shouldn't be surprised. Trying to pin down Stormcloud in the field was like, well, like trying to catch a cloud. Sneaky little kit.

It comes to a head one night when Janus spots a dark blob of fabric left on the floor in one of the big sitting areas next to a window. He pauses, setting his teacup on the counter and walking over to it.

It's the hoodie. The hoodie.

He knows if he looks around, he won't see Stormcloud. But he must be here. There's no way the kit would abandon such precious cargo. No, this is a test. A test to see what he'll do.

Janus simply returns to the counter, picks up his tea, and crosses to his favorite armchair, staring out of the windows and putting his back deliberately to the hoodie.

After a few seconds, there's the softest thud of someone landing on the floor. He averts his gaze from the reflection and busies himself with swirling his tea around his cup. Ears straining, he just manages to pick up the faint noises of rustling fabric, padding footsteps, and the creak of a floorboard. He holds his breath until he hears the door shut and sags into the chair, tipping his head back.

Who knew wayward heroes could be so much work?

He would be lying, however, if he said he wasn't the slightest bit pleased with the next time he spoke to Stormcloud and the little hero mumbled: my name's Virgil.

If this were a different world, Janus thinks as he watches Logic work, you and I would be very, very good friends.

'Friends' is perhaps the wrong word to use, but the message is the same. Logic's efficiency and intelligence are an unmistakable asset and the more calculating parts of Janus can't help but marvel at just how much the little hero can do. He leans back in the chair, his cane tapping idly against his side, watching as Logic finishes yet another test that most of his senior analysts can't accomplish alone, looking up and adjusting his glasses.

"Finished?"

"I believe so, yes."

Janus hums and holds out his hand, letting Logic come over and pass it to him. He flicks his gaze over it and sure enough, there's barely an error to be found. "Extraordinary."

"I'm pleased to be of use."

Ah, yes, the root of the issue. For much like the Stormcloud, this is not one of the initiates, someone to be trained and made into an effective gear in the Serpent's machine. This is Logic, one of the little prince's protected, and so Janus must be careful.

"You know," he says softly, indicating for Logic to take a seat, "you needn't prove yourself to me."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I'm hardly going to toss you aside if you can't perform to a certain standard, my dear. You're not in competition with anyone for a spot."

Logic's hand twitches. "I understand. I am grateful to no longer be with the Cyrus Corporation."

Janus sighs. "You are a clever one, aren't you?"

"Thank you."

"That wasn't necessarily a compliment, dear. Shh," he says, holding up a hand, "let me talk for a moment, alright?"

"Of course."

"You are very careful with how you speak to me. You are clever enough to know that you must do so in order to avoid being punished or falling into the traps I may set for you. Each sentence you say has been calculated so that you do not lie outright, but you do not speak with complete honesty."

Logic simply blinks. Janus chuckles.

"Relax, my dear, I say that as someone who does the same."

Finally. The smallest of cracks in Logic's facade. "You do?"

"Oh, yes. I'm sure Roman could tell you."

"He did say you were…good at talking."

"A high compliment coming from him, I'm sure."

Logic's mouth twitches. "Of course."

Janus shakes his head, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Dear, I know you won't believe me, but you don't have to be so careful."

"You are correct."

"That you do not believe me?"

"I didn't say that."

Janus spreads his hands. "Quod erat demonstrandum."

Logic shifts in the chair, his gaze averting. His hands twitch and fidget in his lap. Janus simply waits. After a long moment, Logic looks up again. "What is it that you want from us?"

"Hm?"

"You are keeping us," Logic says bluntly, "it would be logical to presume you are doing so for a reason."

Janus hums again, sitting forward in the chair. "And how will you know that I'm not lying to you?"

"I won't."

"Then I could say anything?"

"I will weigh the balance of probability."

He chuckles. "As you wish. Then, I shall provide you with three explanations and you may determine what you like from them. Is this satisfactory?"

"Yes."

"Very well. Perhaps I am keeping you because you were large threats to my organization and I need to keep an eye on you."

Logic nods.

"Or, perhaps I wish to demonstrate my power to other would-be heroes and secure your talents for my own use. I would be a fool to give up such assets lightly."

Another nod, smaller this time.

"Or," he says, trying not to make his voice soften too obviously, "perhaps you are the little prince's protected, and thus you are as important to me as this cane."

Logic's eyes widen and his breath catches. Janus lets him look his fill, gather whatever information he would like, before he stands up and bids him good day.

The next time they meet, Logic is poring over a book on astrophysics and Janus finds he has a sudden interest in exoplanets.

He supposes it's not the best thing in the world that he plays favorites, but very few people have ever had the audacity to accuse Janus of being concerned with such things.

"Sweetie," he murmurs as Roman stirs from the sleepy little pile of blankets atop the bed, "sweetie, it's alright. It's only me, little prince."

Roman blinks up at him, eyes still wet with tears, reaching up for him. Janus lets him, wrapping his arms about him too and sinking back down to the bed. He nuzzles shamelessly into the little prince's hair and coos as Roman does the same.

"Oh, sweetie, it's alright. I'm right here. You've got me, see?"

Roman's arms are still sleep-slack and clumsy, trying to get Janus closer, closer, even closer. A little whine comes from the crook of Janus's neck and he hums.

"You're alright, my prince, you're alright. You're safe, you're safe with me, sweetie. Everything's going to be alright. Nothing can touch you now."

"J-Jan—Janus—"

"Shh, shh, my sweetie," he murmurs, "my sweet prince, my little prince…"

He murmurs more sweet nonsense into Roman's ears as they lie there on the bed, the snake curling around the little prince and hissing that he's safe, he's safe, of course he's safe, there's nowhere safer he could be. He presses gentle kisses to the little prince's forehead, his nose, and his cheeks.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

After a while, the little prince sags against his chest and Janus hums, carding a hand through his hair and kissing his cheek once more. "Hi, sweetie."

"Hi."

"Water?"

"Mm."

Janus extricates himself reluctantly to fetch a glass of water, setting it on the nightstand and helping Roman sit up. "Slowly, now."

"I know."

Janus chuckles and kisses his forehead as Roman drinks about half the glass. He leans against him and just breathes for a moment, his soft pants filling the room. Janus hums again, letting himself soak up Roman's presence shamelessly, enjoying the warmth.

"You are a serpent," Roman mumbles after a while as Janus runs his hands up and down his back, "you're stealing all my body heat."

"You're simply so warm, sweetie, can you blame me?"

"Mmf."

Janus chuckles and takes the half-empty glass, setting it back on the nightstand. He lets out a shocked noise when Roman wraps his arms around him again. "Am I your cuddle toy?"

"Yes."

He scoffs, affronted, but only to make his little prince laugh. Secretly, he's thrilled that Roman is starting to become braver about asking for what he wants, about taking comfort in Janus and having him close. The part of him that still lives in that night when Roman almost bled out in his shower hisses in satisfaction.

I'll unmake you yet, my sweet, just you wait.

"Do you want to sleep a bit more, sweetie?"

He feels Roman nod against his back, mumbling sleepily.

"Alright, then, you're going to have to let me go."

"No."

"Sweetie, don't you want to cuddle? Let me—"

Roman curls around him tighter, face smushed against his shoulder.

"Sweetie."

"Just lie down. It's fine."

"You won't say that when you have to deal with all these buttons."

"Janus," Roman whines, "please?"

Damn you, little prince, for being so difficult to say no to.

"Oh, alright," Janus sighs, "but you're going to have to move a little."

He manages to turn around and shrug off the worst of the outermost layers, letting Roman clutch him close as he drags the covers back over him. He leans down and presses another kiss to his forehead.

"Go to sleep, my precious," he whispers, "I'll be right here when you wake up. I promise."

"Don't leave?"

"I won't, sweetie, I won't."

It is a heady thing, truly, to have the little prince fall so effortlessly back asleep in his arms, tucked safely against his chest. Janus lets himself smile into Roman's hair as he too drifts off to sleep.

Sweet dreams, little prince, I will keep you safe.

He struggles through the door just in time as the security system flickers to life around him. He collapses onto the floor, groaning as the stab wound reopens. He holds a hand to it and grimaces, fumbling for his phone to call Remus, call the doctor, call anyone. He can't bleed out like this on the floor, how embarrassing.

Footsteps. He cranes his neck up and sees Roman staring at him.

For long seconds, neither of them moves.

Then Roman scrambles for his phone and barks something into it, rushing over and kneeling next to Janus's side, rolling him onto his back and pressing hard against the wound.

"Hold on," he says, voice firm and sure of himself in a way Janus has not heard in a very, very long time, "we'll get you sorted."

More footsteps and the other little heroes rush in, Patton and Logic immediately taking Roman's place as Virgil crouches by his head.

"Hey," he says, voice a softened growl, "just look at me, okay?"

"What—"

"Gauze, Logan."

"Got it."

"Hey," Virgil says again, "eyes here. Patton and Logan got you, they've patched up much worse than that before. Roman's calling Remus, you're gonna be okay. You just keep your eyes on me, yeah?"

"Am I a distraught civilian you're saving, now?"

"Civilian? Nah. Distraught? Nope." Virgil gives him a firm look. "But yeah, we're gonna save you."

Someone's hands shift on the wound and he hisses.

"You're doing great. It's okay, just try and keep breathing."

"I know what to do," Janus grumbles, "I've been stabbed before."

"But it's not like you build up an immunity to stab wounds, so just sit tight and let them do their job, yeah?"

It is surreal, Janus decides, and it might indeed be the blood loss, but at the same time…

"Just hang on," Virgil says again, reaching down and squeezing his hand, "you're gonna be okay. We're gonna make sure of it."

"Keep pressure there, Logan, I need to get the stuff."

"You got it."

"Roman, any word from Remus?"

"On his way, doctor en route too."

"Great. Janus, you just hang on, okay?"

…comforting. That's the word he's looking for. This is oddly comforting.

His last thought before he passes out is that he's glad his little heroes are here.

+1.

There are many stupid emotions that humans are capable of having. One of which is the private, repulsive rage at seeing someone get help for something you had to struggle through all on your own.

At first, Janus doesn't think anything of the fact that Remus is noticeably absent whenever he spends time with the little heroes. It's not as though he's suddenly free of his other responsibilities, of course, nor can he afford to make anyone think he's gone soft. The Serpent is still at work, after all, and Remus is a part of making sure that work happens.

But then he realizes that when Remus isn't there, it feels…odd.

For so many years, it was the two of them. Janus at the top, surveying all that is his, and Remus just over his shoulder, ready to enforce it. And while he never cared about Remus as he cares now for Roman, there was a camaraderie there that had never been present with anyone else who works for him. Remus was his, his tool, his right hand, his to use, and his to discard. Remus is his.

And he misses him.

He misses the Remus that texts mission reports with gory details and ridiculous emojis, though he'll kill you if you say it out loud. He misses the Remus that he could call when he'd had too much to drink. He misses the Remus that would just be there.

But Remus is different now.

He doesn't text his mission reports in with extra things anymore. And while that is what he's supposed to do, Janus starts to worry. He doesn't let quips and remarks free anymore, nothing for Janus to roll his eyes at and playfully scold him for. He's professional and efficient and the ideal blunt instrument and Janus misses him terribly.

So, one night, when the little heroes are safe and playing some ridiculous game, he takes a bottle of Remus's favorite whisky and goes to his apartment.

The door isn't as secured as Janus's own, but it takes a moment to disable everything and slip through. He's sure it's alerted Remus to his presence so he doesn't bother to disguise his approach, striding to the kitchen and setting the bottle on the counter, half expecting Remus to be there by the time he turns around.

But he isn't.

Perhaps Remus truly isn't home. He looks at his phone, expecting a text that reads something along the lines of if you're going to break in at least leave me something good or a crass remark that only Remus could get away with, but there's nothing.

"Remus?"

No response. Janus is about to use his phone for a very different reason when he hears something coming from the bedroom. He slips his phone into his pocket and approaches slowly, one hand out, the other on the gun tucked into his shoulder holster.

He pushes the door open slowly.

Remus is home. He's standing with his back to Janus, his head bowed, something in his hands. He lifts his head and wipes something from his face before he turns.

No.

No, no, no.

Remus is not supposed to be crying.

"Good evening, sir," the thing pretending to be Remus says, still hiding something behind his back, "how can I help?"

Janus lets the door close with a thud. He just stares.

"Sir?"

"That's not what you call me." Janus steps closer. "You call me 'Janus,' or 'Jan,' or 'J,' or anything else, but you do not call me 'sir.'"

He all but crowds Remus back against the wall. Remus lets him. He lets him, lets him do it silently and without any sort of suggestive joke.

"Where did you go," he whispers, breath fanning across Remus's cheeks, "where's my darling?"

Remus's lower lip trembles but he says nothing. Janus frowns, reaching up and cupping his face.

"Remus," he calls, "Remus."

"Sir."

Janus fights the urge to growl. "No, Remus, I don't want that. I want you. Now tell me what the hell's going on."

The hand behind his back twitches and Jansu reaches down, grasping the thing in Remus's hold and pulling it away. He holds it up.

It's a pocket knife.

It's the pocket knife that killed four senior men with a drunk boy staggering behind it.

He looks back at Remus. "Darling, talk to me."

"Don't call me that."

Remus's voice, suddenly cold and cruel, is enough to make him step back. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not."

"Not what? Not my darling?"

Remus's hands shudder and twitch. "No."

"And why not?"

Remus looks down, his gaze landing on the knife again. Something horrible and pained colors his expression before he fully bows his head, unwilling to let Janus see his face. Janus looks back at the knife too and runs his fingers over the end of it, almost caressing it with a tenderness he's not shown before. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Remus glance up and look at it, staring at it with…longing?

Oh.

Oh, no.

"Oh, Remus," Janus whispers, tossing the knife onto the bed and reaching out to take his face in his hands again, "my stubborn, ridiculous, Remus…"

Remus flinches at the first touch of his hands but can't bring himself to pull away entirely, it seems. Janus leans in and touches their foreheads, pressing him into the wall.

"I've been cruel to you," he murmurs, "I have, haven't I? Showering your brother and the other heroes with time and attention and tenderness and you've been left to starve?"

Remus doesn't say anything, but his jaw wobbles.

"Mine," Janus whispers, pressing his mouth to Remus's temple, "mine, my feral little junkyard dog, all mine, my darling Remus."

The man in his hands lets out a broken noise at that, something Janus wants to swallow and keep and hoard away from the rest of the world. He settles for pressing Remus harder into the wall and kissing his hairline. Remus whimpers.

"My good boy," he keeps murmuring, "my darling, mine, mine. All mine, my Remus."

"J-Janus?"

"Yes, my darling?"

"What—what are you doing?"

He chuckles, kissing his cheek. "Isn't it obvious?"

"N-no." Remus's hands come to rest against his chest but he doesn't push him away. "You—you don't do this. Not to me."

"Perhaps I want to."

"No. No, you fawn over Roman and the heroes, not me."

"But do you wish I'd fawn over you too?"

"What does it matter what I want? When has it ever mattered what I want?" Now Remus does push him away, but not far. "I'm the person you—I'm the thing you use to get the job done. I'm not—I'm not—you don't—we don't—"

Janus cups the back of his head and draws him close again, foreheads pressed together. "Tell me what you want, Remus."

"I—I—"

"Tell me," he coaxes, "come now, darling, tell me what you want."

He lifts up Remus's chin and kisses his cheek.

"Just tell me."

"C-can I…"

"Can you…?"

Remus swallows. "Can I be special too?"

Janus will deny how he melts at that until the day he draws his last breath. "Oh, Remus, of course, you can."

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