#listen i am not at all opposed or surprised but this was really fucking funny to me
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#listen i am not at all opposed or surprised but this was really fucking funny to me#destiny#destiny 2#d2#cayde 6#the drifter#destiny lore#max speaks#destiny memes
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reader getting jealous when she’s seen pornstar!Ghost’s previous work with other girls even if she knows it’s irrational to be jealous since it’s his job 🤭
you chewed on your bottom lip as you flicked through photo after photo. each of them was with a different girl looking up at him or kissing him on the cheek. in some of them, his arm was draped over their shoulder, or they were perched on his lap with twinkling bright eyes.
most of the girls you knew. you'd worked scenes together or met them at work events. they were all lovely, and beautiful, and clearly his type too, judging by the grin on his features.
"christ."
it was silly. of course it was.
it was his job, just as it was yours: you knew that getting dicked down day after day did not mean anything.
it had not meant anything.
not until you’d allowed yourself to get used to the way he looked at you, his eyes full of adoration. the way he touched you, like the mere permission to run his fingers along your skin was something special. you had gotten used to the way he made you feel special.
and suddenly, it had all begun to mean something.
the realization had of course followed soon after. you were not any different from the rest, were you?
the fans all shipped you, yet there was not a single picture of you on his social media. the studio praised you for the money that the two of you were bringing in, yet they kept scheduling him with other girls.
girls who looked at him with the exact same twinkle in their eyes that you knew had to possess your gaze whenever you looked at him.
stupid. your fingers swiped through the photos faster in a surge of something bitter: something childish in the way that your lip moved into a pout. it was all stupid, all freaking—
"thank fuck you're here." the low rumble of a familiar voice startled you, and from the surprise, your fingers slipped: the betrayal followed by your phone falling.
flat across your face.
with a groan, you listened to it clatter against the floor of the common space of the studio, yet as soon as you pushed off the couch to reach for it you realized it to be too late.
ghost's fingers had wrapped around it, the man now grinning from ear to ear as he dangled it between two of his fingers. "if I didn’t know you any better—“
“ghost.”
“—I’d think you were doin' somethin' sneaky."
you shot him a warning glare as your fingers rubbed your aching nose. "give it here."
he had never been nosy: never dabbled into your privacy, and you could tell that this time too it was not his intention in the slightest. yet you could not blame him for recognizing himself on the dim screen of your phone, now could you?
fuck.
"darlin'," he paused, fingers still wrapped around your phone. his gaze flicked to yours as he raised a brow. "really?"
"just give it back."
with a grin—nearly boyish in the way his eyes twinkled—he tossed the phone back at you. "you shooting today, stalker?"
"just finished."
ghost raised an amused brow. “did you, though?”
you couldn’t help but laugh at the implication: at the knowing smirk on his features as he uncorked a bottle of water and brought it to his lips. he looked casual like this: leaning against an armchair opposite from you, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black compression shirt.
“can’t really say that we just wrapped up either, now can I?”
“fuckin’ rawdogging my girl, eh?”
“your girl, am I?” you fell back on the couch, gaze headed towards the ceiling of the penthouse as you bit down your silly little grin. "funny considering that that's what he called me. inspired by our vids, I assume."
“who’d you shoot with?”
“graves,” you mused.
“ah so, no.” you could hear the grin on his features. “you did not actually finish.”
god.
your laugh was bright as you rolled your eyes. “if I did not know you any better I’d think that all this—,” you chuckled, “was jealousy. you’re not—jealous, are you?”
"nothin' to be jealous about, is there?"
"it's just work."
"opposed to what we have, eh?" his grin was playful, yet as your gaze met his, there was something else too. something deeper in the way that his eyes studied you.
what, you did not know. before you'd managed to place a finger on it, he'd pushed off the armchair.
now walking to you.
"so what if I were a little jealous?" his voice was a warm chuckle, and he crouched on the floor next to you. "would you feed my ego? would you go 'n tell me?"
"tell you—?"
"look me in the eyes," he tilted his head ever so slightly, his voice low, "and tell me, darlin', that graves fucked you like I fuck you."
"no one fucks me like—," your words died down with a laugh: your lips parted before you'd managed to bite down the words. "I'm not gonna go and feed your ego, ghost."
"already did," he grinned. no, he downright glowed, as he took a seat on the floor next to you. "y'know, I do sorta wish it was you today."
the corners of your lips tugged into a warm smile, and you propped your head against your hand. "who is it?"
"shel."
"shel's lovely."
"yeah," he nodded. "yeah, but she's not you, is she?"
you nipped your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt your cheeks turning warmer by the second. "it's not—," you then managed out a soft laugh. "it's just work."
"doesn't feel like fuckin' work with us, though, does it?"
"no," you hummed. "it doesn't."
where your sudden courage to address any of this was coming from, you did not know. yet as you saw the switch in his eyes: the touch of something warm, of something relieved...
"darlin', I wanted you to know I—"
a call for his name, echoing from the hallways of the penthouse cut his words short, and he pushed off the floor with a chuckle.
"fuckin' A."
"duty calls." you smiled. "I'll see you—"
"tomorrow," he grinned. "oh and—," ghost wet his lips with a chuckle, slightly breathless, "it was kate who stopped me from posting our photos, y'know? on social media. somethin' about the marketing team thinkin' it's better to—they want us to be exclusive. as in," he rushed to speak with a shake of his head, "for the website. so that to see what everyone is fussing about—"
oh.
"right," you managed as you fought back the bright smile that threatened to take over your features. "right, alright. so if it wasn't for kate—"
"sweetheart, I'd have you as my goddamn profile picture just to see more of you."
huh.
a call for his name—this time audibly frustrated—echoed across the space once more, and you grinned.
"go before they fire you for keeping them waiting."
"your loss, eh?"
"only financially," you smirked—your laugh warm as you watched him bump into the doorframe on his way out. and as you unlocked your phone, the grin that ghost had in the photo on your screen—smiling next to a girl—seemed to suddenly dim in comparison with the way he had just looked at you.
a/n: giggling, blushing, kicking my feet. I’m so goddamn soft for these two, lmao help. / pornstar!ghost masterlist / I'm so freaking here for all your thoughts about him!! 💌
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x you#pornstar!ghost
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i went to mass today for the first time in years and it made me real, real sad.
tl;dr - at the end of the day, i find faith in love - the love i give and receive from my family, from my friends, from strangers, the love that give to myself. there’s joy in that. and it’s fucking limitless.
i’m in my thirties, probably haven’t been to a mass in like fifteen years. there are a lot of ways that i relate to the world differently: my relationship to sex, to identity, to joy, health, blah blah blah. and i haven’t really given much thought to my relationship with god or my faith.
but i went to mass today and, listen, i knew there’d be a lot of bullshit. but i was surprised at how angry i got. so much of the language during the sermon, the readings, hell (heh) even the singing is about how we are unworthy of god’s love and god’s grace. that our gratitude should come from the fact that we have love we don’t deserve.
i’ve spent so much time and so much energy in my adult life having to unlearn that shit. and i think before today i had an inkling that i’d internalized a bunch of church bullshit, but i wasn’t sure. but i know, for example, that my mom loves me. and i haven’t had to do anything to *earn* that love. she loves me because i exist. and i can do things to show that i love her or that i appreciate the love she gives me, but at no point do i feel like if i’m not good enough, then she won’t love me that day or whatever. (i am fully aware that this isn’t the case for most people, i’m simply using this as an example.) i just feel like if we, as humans, are able to extend that sort of love to each other, then shouldn’t it be the same for a divine being? i gotta prove myself to fuckin GOD?! the being who supposedly made me? if i don’t get shit right all the time then god stops loving me? lmao be fucking for real.
but beyond that, it creates such a fucking toxic set up for how people grow up understanding all the things love should and shouldn’t be. the church raises people to believe that love *is* conditional. so then, what does that mean for how we receive love? for me, it translated into people pleasing. i got really good at being charming and funny and putting my own needs behind other people’s because that’s how i thought one “earned” love. and what does it say about how we’re meant to give love? for my mom, it’s meant a lot of, “this person did one thing so now they’re not worth my time” as opposed to, “we can deepen this relationship by me articulating what my needs are.” it’s a perfect set up to make a bunch of people who are ripe to abuse and to be abused, in a way.
there’s a whole other post to be written about the exploitive psychology of the church but that’s not my area. it sucks because many parishioners find religion to be synonymous with faith. but the faith is based in a “love” that’s borne of fear.
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thot gf absolutely sticking up for sub Spencer
idk how to end blurbs, ever. but this is a rewrite of that baseball scene
cw: no explicit smut/smut is implied, creepy dude being creepy. wc: 1k
It was the bottom of the ninth inning, and Spencer still hadn't hit a ball once. You were waiting in the stands, watching anxiously knowing he was next up to bat. The bases were loaded, the team was only down one point, and Spencer was their last chance.
You stood up from your seat as he stepped up to bat. When you heard Spencer was going to play for the FBI's softball team, you went the whole nine yards to make it unforgettable for him – and that meant a special outfit. I was as close to a cheerleading uniform as you could get passably get away with. A short, navy blue pleated skirt, and a cropped tank top that barely covered your chest.
"You got this, babe!!" you cheered, bouncing on your toes, making your skirt flounce around you. Spencer looked at you and sighed; he was already in his head about this, and your distracting outfit wasn't doing him any favors.
"This guy's a fucking loser," someone muttered. You whipped your head around to shoot daggers at the man who said it.
"Shut your mouth," you grunted. He looked exactly like a jerk; balding, a little drunk, and probably a former high school athlete. And he spoke like one.
"Don't get sore, honey," he laughed. He eyed you up and down in a way that made you want to gag. His eyes stopped right at the hem of your short skirt. "Aren't you a bit out of his league?"
You rolled your eyes, shooting him a pointing glare and turning back around, "No. He's out of mine."
Spencer missed his first two swings. His head hung low while the opposing team teased him some more, thinking they were probably right about him.
"Hey! Time out!" you yelled.
The referee turned around. "You can't do that, you're not playing -"
"I don't care. Time out."
You shot Derek a hopeful glance, and he gave the ref a shrug. "She said time out."
Spencer looked back at you, confused. You crooked your finger and called him over, pressing up against the wire fence that separated you.
"Hey, listen to me. Don't worry about these other losers," you whispered, poking your finger through the fence and tapping his nose. "They don't know what they're talking about."
"I think they do," he laughed sadly. "I'm the one feeling like the loser here."
"You should be," the guy from before shouted again.
You turned back around, furious. "Sir, if you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to knock you out."
He laughed, and Hotch who was sitting beside you and watched the whole thing turned around to give him another glare. Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore.
"It's okay," Spencer said wistfully.
"No, it's not. You're doing so good, I'm so proud of you."
"I haven't hit a single ball."
"And I don't care if you do or don't. You don't have to impress me, you know." You smiled at him, reaching down to hold his hand – or at least, whichever fingers would fit through the fence. You could tell he was worried about looking good in front of you, he didn't even know he never had to try to do that. "I'm already impressed by you. Every day."
Spencer smiled genuinely for the first time that day.
"But, just know... if you do hit that next one, I have a little surprise for you at home."
"Really?" his voice pitched up, eyes scanning you up and down. He trapped the cloth of your skirt between two fingers, tugging at it. "Can't imagine it gets better than this outfit."
"Oh, but it does... I might've made you a little dance routine to go with it. Can't share it here."
"Mhm. And what if I don't get it?"
"Well, then you'll get the consolation prize... and Spencer, it's pretty good, too."
"Come here," he laughed, calling you closer with a finger until you pressed your cheek up to the metal so he could place a kiss there. "Wish me luck!"
Clapping your hands together, you cheered as Spencer went back up to the plate, holding the bat more confidently in his hands.
"Can I steal the prize when he loses?"
Huffing, you looked back at the creep one last time. "Listen, fucker. Not in a million years, would I choose someone like you over him. I don't care if he never makes a hit, or if he ends up bald and sad like you. No one will ever compare to him. Or fuck me as good as he does."
The man turned dark red, choking on his own spit at your last few words. Even Hotch couldn't feel anything but proud of Spencer, despite the overshare.
Spencer heard what you said. He wasn't out of earshot yet when it went down. A smirk was plastered on his face as he tapped the bat down on the plate and raised it, waiting for a pitch.
What happened after was nothing short of a miracle. Spencer hit the ball dead-on, sending it far out where none of the other guys expected him to. He ran through all the bases, sliding in to steal home. The team won because of him.
Derek was lifting Spencer up when you stormed onto the field.
"Spencer!" you yelled, running up to him. Derek quickly put him down, and Spencer immediately went around and picked you up effortlessly, as if he did it all the time.
"Woah, there. Suddenly you're a big, strong athlete, huh?" you laughed, putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself in the air. Spencer's hands were cradling you, one on your back and the other under your thigh.
"Absolutely, I am. Did you see me?" His smile was brighter than the sun as he spun you around.
"I did." You leaned down, pulling him into a heated kiss, tipping his hat off to run a hand through his messy hair. "Can't wait to give you your surprise," you said between smaller pecks.
"Ooh. Should I shower first?" He looked down at himself, covered in dirt from sliding across the field.
"No," you shook your head, smirking. "Leave it. I'm kinda digging this rugged look on you."
The adrenaline rush gave him this huge surge of confidence – that, and the fact he knew what you said about him when you thought he couldn't hear. He kissed you again, the hand on your thigh moving to a less respectable place right under your ass. He gave it a firm squeeze, and you squealed in surprise.
"Okay, big man, if this is what you're like after winning, then I think you should play more often," you laughed.
"Only if you come to the games dressed like this every time."
You nodded. "Deal."
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfic#blurb
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Hi! I was wondering (if you do headcanons) if you have any Inarazaki smut headcanons? Pls I love them sm
NSFW inarizaki headcanons
oh, i absolutely do headcanons. thank you for the message!
unfortunately i haven’t read the manga so i don’t know all of inarizaki’s players, but i’ll do the boys i feel comfortable with
post-timeskip, obviously
includes: miya atsumu, miya osamu, kita shinsuke, suna rintori
content warning: mentions of edging, overstimulation, praise kink, degradation, hair pulling, a bit of somnophilia, hickies, semi-public sex, handcuffs, oral, weed. nothing too crazy.
miya atsumu
- We’ve seen how this man acts on and off the court. He’s so into dirty talk it’s not even funny.
- I feel like he likes being praised but is certainly not opposed to a little degradation if it feels right in the moment. He’ll definitely be doing a combination of both to you, calling you his “pretty little whore” and the like.
- He loves getting his hair pulled. Like, groaning against you as he eats you out and you yank on his hair until you genuinely start to worry, loves it.
- You are his favorite alarm clock. Please give this man head to wake him up. He will never be the same.
- He’s a biter, folks. Prepare to have hickies all over, all the time.
- Quickies are his favorite thing on the planet. One time he had two games in a day and rushed out during the break saying it was a family emergency. Really he just drove home, fucked you, and made it back in time to play.
- You can absolutely get Atsumu to sub for you, but it’ll take some extra effort. We all know he’s such a brat. What does it? Overstim. He comes hard in your hand and you keep going and he nearly blacks out, begging you to stop but refusing to use your safe word. It’s the first time you’ve seen Atsumu run his mouth that much without something to say.
miya osamu
- We’ve seen how he serves. All I can say is: edging. This man will lay on his side next to you or have you between his legs with your back leaning against his chest and gets you to the brink over and over until you’re squirming and begging him to get it over with.
- He’s a little lazy, but in the best way. He doesn’t exert his energy when he doesn’t need to, so he loves when you ride him. When you don’t, he’ll lean his head against yours or pull you close to him from behind and never take his hand off of your clit.
- Not really into sexting, but one time when you were away for a while he called you and just asked you to talk to him. Didn’t take long for you to figure out he was getting off just listening to you speak. He will deny it until he dies but you’ll never forget it.
- Very patient so begging doesn’t work on him. If you’re in the mood and he’s not he’ll just ignore you or say “no” and wait for you to move on. But the secret weapon you discover accidentally . . . if you suck on his fingers he will collapse. It doesn’t show so much on his face the first couple of times, but his breathing falters just a bit and he tries to look away, face bright red. It ends with you caged underneath him every time. Do not attempt unless you intend to wake a beast.
- I might be the only one, but I don’t think Osamu would hook up inside Onigiri Miya. Too many health code violations. However, when he’s in the back office counting the register? You’re free to get down on your knees and relieve him after the stressful day. He’s also definitely asked an employee to take over for a bit just to pull you out to his car and rail you. Yes, it was dark, but there were people coming and going from the parking lot. Your knees were wobbling by the time he was done with you and it put a big smile on his face as he held the door for you on your way back in.
shinsuke kita
- I love this man.
- Kita feels a bit more submissive to me, but when he’s in charge he’s extremely particular with every move he makes. He knows exactly how to touch you to get the reaction he wants. Be patient and let him work and you’ll come unraveled in his arms
- Won’t ever ask you for favors, so often times gets pretty pent up. He just needs you to lay him down and tell him you’re going to take care of him. He doesn’t want to depend on you to calm him down in that way, but something about getting head relaxes his whole body for a week, so he’ll never turn you down.
- Favorite position is missionary. This man kisses you through the whole thing.
- After your first hookup, he was laying next to you, eyes blown wide, face flushed, hair messy, breathing heavily. He turned over on his side with a smile and asked if you wanted to meet his grandmother. You laughed at him but he was dead serious. He was so infatuated with you that all he could think about was introducing you to all of his family and friends.
- You brought out handcuffs once and he blushed every time he looked at them. Once you actually put them on him he was so good and listened to everything you said. He was breathing heavy and had pink cheeks for an hour after but he tells you all the time about how much he really enjoyed “that time we used those things on my wrist” and how “we should really do that again sometime.”
- Surprises himself with how much he likes giving up control. Doesn’t think he’s terribly kinky but you pull his hair a few times and call him a good boy and he absolutely melts. He’ll do anything for you if you tell him he’s doing a good job.
- This man doesn’t really moan. He whimpers. He’s all yours and makes that abundantly clear. It takes a lot of trust for him to act like this with anyone, but fuck it, he loves you. He’d do anything just for you to grab his jaw and tell him what to do one more time.
rintaro suna
- Definitely starts out as friends with benefits with anyone. Likes to have a level of trust with a hookup but not a level of commitment.
- He absolutely smokes and is touchy feely when he does so. He’s called you at 3 am for hookups on multiple occasions. Also, shotgunning.
- Makes the prettiest faces when you give him head. He doesn’t know you’re watching because he has his eyes closed, but with his face screwed up and brows furrowed, you don’t think he could possibly look better. Especially when he covers his mouth to stifle a sound that comes out as a groan, he just looks so desperate and fucked. He thinks you’re just being nice for offering it so often, but really you just can’t get enough of him.
- Likes taking naps with you. More specifically, likes waking you up from naps with a gentle finger and a flick of his tongue. You always stretch as you begin to stir, grinding your hips up into him in a way that drives him crazy. Your breathing starts slow and heavy but quickly turns into gasps. He savors every moment of it, obsessed with the way you squirm when he wraps his arms around your thighs and gives you nowhere to run.
- Similar to how he feels about Kita, he doesn’t like how put together you seem to be, even in the bedroom. It’s like you’re holding something back. So, one night, he focuses entirely on you. He uses his hands and mouth and himself and even a toy to get you reeling, shaking and whimpering with tears plastering your cheeks. That’s the view he’s been waiting for. He can’t stop himself until you’re so fucked out that you can’t open your eyes or mutter anything but his name. He realizes he’s in deep when his first instinct is to wrap around you, brushing your hair off your face lazily and kissing your forehead.
#haikyuu smut#atsumu smut#atsumu headcanons#atsumu x reader#osamu smut#osamu headcanons#osamu x reader#kita smut#kita headcanons#kita x reader#suna smut#suna headcanons#suna x reader#haikyuu headcanons
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Anon Request: Hello!! Can you write a nsfw scenario with hard dom Aomine😩I need more Aomine content he is so fine. Thankss
A/N: He indeed is, anon, he is very fine
Warnings: unprotected sex, hair pulling, mirror sex, degradation, jealous!Aomine, hard dom!Aomine
All characters are 18+!!
You were attending your high school reunion sans boyfriend of course, saying that he didn't really care to go, so you went without him because you really wanted to see your former classmates.
Since you were the manager of the basketball team with Momoi, you found yourself talking with most of the basketball team, finding Momoi first before the rest of the team. You greeted everyone, not surprised that Aomine didn't show, and when you greet Wakamatsu, he gives you a side hug, but keeps his arm around you.
You don't really think much of it, keeping the conversation flowing and listening to what was going on in everyone's lives since you all graduated. You're assuming it's because of the small amount of alcohol you've had, but you find yourself suddenly laughing very loudly at a joke Wakamatsu says.
You're nearly brought to tears, your ab muscles hurting from how much you're laughing.
"What's so funny?"
Your laughter dies down almost instantly, and you try to play it off. You turn your head to the side to see your boyfriend standing next to you, and the look in his eyes makes you shudder slightly. Obviously no one else can hear the edge in his voice, and you quickly regroup yourself as you respond.
"Aomine! You're here," you say, mostly in shock because you remember very well that he said he wasn't coming.
He just gives you a slow nod, the look in his eyes nearly making your legs go weak as you give him a small smile. "Yeah, I had a certain feeling that you might be ready to go," he says easily. "Guess I was right," he mutters, his words only audible to you before he clears his throat.
"She can't leave now," Wakamatsu starts, his hand moving to your shoulder, pulling you a little closer to him, and you don't miss the way his eyes narrow. "We were thinking about going out for drinks," he says. "You can leave your girlfriend alone for that right?"
Oh shit.
You know he's doing this on purpose, and Aomine chuckles softly. "Yeah, but we've got a long day tomorrow, right?" he asks, his voice daring you to oppose.
You nod quickly. "Yeah, we do. Maybe next time though? Tonight was really fun. We have to hang out again soon," you add, and you say your last goodbyes before walking out the gym, following Aomine towards his car.
The air is tense between you during the ride home, and you're trying to relax yourself as you wait for him to say something. His hand is gripping the steering wheel tightly, his other resting on his thigh in a fist just as tight. "So, you have fun?"
You nod quickly as you rub over your thighs. "Yeah, yeah, it was really nice to catch up with everyone."
"Wakamatsu always been that funny?" he asks, and you can hear the strain in his voice when he says his name.
You scoff softly. "Come on, Daiki, it was a funny joke. I wouldn't have laughed if it wasn't," you reason playfully, and all he does his nod as he pulls into the driveway.
He doesn't say anything as you walk into the house, and you're pretty sure you're in the clear, but then he sighs when you walk into your room. "I know you know the drill."
"Aomine-"
"Am I gonna have to repeat myself?" You swallow heavily as you shake your head before you turn around to let him unzip the back of your dress. You already feel your panties being soaked as you let the fabric fall off your shoulders, pooling at your feet, and you turn around.
He raises his eyebrows at you, his patience running thin, and you speed up your movements, the rest of your clothes landing on top of your dress. He takes a few steps back before beckoning you over with a curl of his finger.
You walk over, and you lightly grips your wrist, turning you to face the mirror. When you turn your head away, he gently guides your face back to the mirror by your chin. He lightly trails his finger down your arm, making you shiver slightly.
"You let him touch what's mine?" His voice is low, and you can hear how pissed he is.
"It wasn't like that," you respond quietly, feeling vulnerable and literally exposed in the situation you're in. He hums softly, feeling yourself shudder under his gaze, and when you try to look away again, he wraps his hand around your neck, using his fingers to hold your head up while his other trails down your body.
He scoffs darkly, both of you noticing how your arousal's running down your legs, and you whimper softly when he runs his fingers through your folds. "You're such a fucking slut," he spits. "Soaking wet from another man touching you."
You shake your head quickly to deny, but he tightens his grip around your neck, silently telling you that you can't answer. "You wanna get fucked like a slut?"
You don't know whether to curse Wakamatsu or thank him. You know he was taunting Aomine on purpose, their dislike for each other coming out as if they were back in high school. But you can't help how your knees are starting to go weak at the mean, dominant persona coming from the man behind you.
You're focused on too many things, like his fingers brushing your folds, the stimulation nowhere near close enough to relieve you, and how he seems to be radiating anger, that you don't even register the sound of Aomine unbuckling his belt.
You moan without even realizing it when his hard, thick dick digs into your ass, jolting when you feel a hard smack against it. "You forget how to answer?" You pathetically nod your head and there's another smack to your ass causing you to bite your lip at the sting. "Say it."
"I wanna be fucked like a slut," you say, your voice still barely above a whisper, and you're having a hard time keeping your body from squirming due to the fact that he's not giving you what you so desperately need.
You hear him chuckle and you gasp suddenly when you're bent at the waist, and he pulls your head up by your hair, keeping your focus on the mirror. He has his other hand on your hip, pulling you flush against him, and he stops you when you try to wiggle your hips.
"You wanna be Wakamatsu's slut? Huh?" You quickly shake your head, and you cry out softly when he smacks your other cheek.
"No," you sigh, correcting yourself. "No, Daiki, only yours." You see him smack your ass again, and you let out a soft moan, feeling the heat coming off of your skin.
"You sure? You two seemed pretty friendly at the reunion." He grinds against you, watching you fall apart from a simple action and he smirks.
"I'm sure." You're scared to beg in fear that he won't give you anything at all, as you feel yourself clench around nothing. "M sorry, I won't do it again," you breathe, hoping he gives in.
He scoffs darkly as he lines himself up, his grip on your hair still tight. "Yeah, you won't," he confirms before ramming into, nearly making your legs give out, screaming at the sudden intrusion.
He doesn't give you time to adjust or catch your breath, the sounds of your skin slapping together filling the room, and the only thing you can do is watch your eyes roll back in your head as your body goes limp. "You like being a fucking whore?" he hisses, his scowl deepening when clench around him.
You can't even respond, the pleasure coursing through your veins rendering you speechless. He slaps your ass again when your eyes close, wanting your attention to stay on the both of you. Your noises start to get louder as you get closer, and he grins widely. "You wanna cum like a filthy slut?"
You nod eagerly to best of your ability. "Yes, yes, please Daiki," you moan, tears blurring your vision.
He doesn't respond, and he gives you a few more hard thrusts before he cums, fucking you through his high before pulling out.
"Then cum." Your eyes widen as you look at him, your head dropping slightly when he lets go of your hair. You thought that he was just going to fuck you until you couldn't walk, until you were only screaming his name.
"Filthy whores don't get help to cum."
Tags: @her-majesty-kiara
#aomine daiki#daiki aomine#daiki aomine x reader#daiki aomine smut#aomine smut#aomine daiki smut#aomine daiki x reader#knb#knb smut#knb aomine#kuroko's basketball#kuroko no basket#kuroko no basuke#🛶.hoarny
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feysand blind date
Loving Every Second of It
Fluff//3010 words
Feyre wasn’t sure what she was expecting tonight.
Lucien had set her up on a blind date with a friend of a friend and there was no way it wasn’t going to end miserably. Maybe Feyre would say something stupid and he would think she was weird. Maybe he would decide she wasn’t pretty enough or her clothes weren’t nice or she was just boring. Maybe some other woman who was everything she would never be would catch his eye. Maybe—
“I really hope you’re not still imagining ways this will end poorly.”
Feyre frowned. “Seriously, Lu, this is a bad idea.”
Lucien elbowed her. “You said, and I quote, “I’m done being a lonely spinster who’s too busy regretting my life choices to get laid.” Therefore I, as the good friend I am, decided to get you a date. And consequently, laid. So stop being a bitch. If it doesn’t end well, at least you put yourself out there, right?”
She sighed. “If it doesn’t end well, I will have to endure the long-lasting humiliation and despair for the rest of my life. That’s not something I’m inclined to want.”
“The only reason I’m still here listening to your self-pity is because I know if I leave you’ll chicken out.”
“And because I’m your best friend?”
“Yeah, that too.”
Feyre scowled and crossed her arms. “You don’t say that very convincingly.”
Lucien just smiled and gave Feyre a peck on the cheek. “You’ll have a good time tonight. Just be yourself.”
“But what if he doesn’t like myself?”
“He will. Azriel has good taste in people, as evidenced by the fact that he’s dating me,” Lucien stated matter-of-factly.
Feyre rolled her eyes but allowed a small smile to cross her features. Azriel had only started dated Feyre’s best friend a couple weeks ago, and she’d met the man a handful of times. It was his friend, Rhys, she thought he’d said, that she would be going on a date with tonight.
“It’s time to go,” Lu told her.
Feyre blinked. “Already?”
“Yes, don’t pretend you haven’t been counting the seconds. You’re such a bullshitter.”
A mournful sigh was all she gave Lucien before heading to the door. They had agreed to meet at the restaurant, a fancy, but also homey, little place downtown.
“Wait.”
Feyre almost growled out loud. If Lucien kept distracting her, she was going to lose her nerve.
“I’m driving you to the restaurant.”
Feyre spun around. “What do you mean you’re driving me? I was about to walk out the door.”
Lucien crossed his arms. “Yes, but that still leaves you with dozens of opportunities to turn back around. I won’t risk it.”
Feyre narrowed her eyes, but reluctantly allowed him to take her. The drive was unpleasant—Feyre would never admit it to him, but Lucien had been right. Had she had the option, she would have turned around by the time they pulled up at the restaurant. Feyre’s hands were clenched into fists to keep them from shaking.
She tried to think when she had become so nervous about dates. It probably had something to do with Tamlin. Tamlin was a bastard who had ridiculed and scorned Feyre subtly enough during their relationship that Feyre had begun to think of herself as worthless, entirely unaware it was his fault. She’d dumped his sorry ass after she caught him in Feyre’s own fucking bed with Ianthe, a “friend.”
Yes, that was definitely the cause of Feyre’s anxiety. She was never excessively social or flirty, but she had at least been cool and collected, as many guys noticed. Or they used to, anyway. Now she was scared to go on a single gods-damn date.
“Are you going to get out of the car, or are we going to sit here all night?” Lucien’s dry voice cut into her thoughts.
Feyre glared at him, not deigning to give a response other than a raised finger (try and guess which one) and getting out. She closed the door and turned around, checking her phone for the time before turning it on silent. It was only a few minutes before six-thirty, so he may or may not be there already.
Taking a moment—and making sure Lucien had already driven off—Feyre smoothed out her dress apprehensively. She was wearing a plain blue dress suited for a special occasion, but still simple enough not to be too flashy. Had she misjudged what to wear? Should she have with something more stylish? Or maybe more revealing, showing off more of her legs or breasts?
And her makeup—was it too plain? Should she have chosen better earrings? Should she be wearing more jewelry? Were her flats too drab?
Feyre almost wished Lucien had stayed to make sure she made it in the restaurant. Steeling herself for the inevitable letdown that tonight would be, Feyre went inside.
Before she had a chance to look around, she nearly ran into a man waiting at the entrance.
“Oh, you’re pretty.”
The man raised an eyebrow.
Feyre blinked. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” She was blushing and cursing herself for her lack of a filter.
Although, who could blame her? The man was dark-skinned, violet-eyed, and muscled, with dark, tousled hair and strong cheekbones. He was wearing an insanely hot dress shirt with the sleeves—the fucking sleeves—rolled up, revealing tattooed forearms. Pretty was a bit of an understatement.
The man was grinning now. The bastard probably had a lot of women telling him he was pretty. Feyre kicked herself internally.
“Well, if it makes it better, I think you’re pretty too.”
Feyre’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “Um, thanks. I should… I have a date… with um…” She trailed off, the man smirking all the while. And then she thought of something.
“You’re Rhys, aren’t you? I mean sure, there are plenty of other people here who could be Rhys, but I have the worst luck, and telling my date he’s pretty totally qualifies as bad luck. Fuck, I thought we’d at least make it to the table before I scared you away. Oh shit, I’m just making it worse now, aren’t I?”
Rhys, or the random guy Feyre was assuming to be Rhys, smiled. Not condescendingly or rudely in any way, just more of an amused expression. “I am Rhys. Which I think makes you Feyre?”
Feyre nodded sullenly.
“It takes more than a beautiful woman complimenting me to scare me away, don’t worry. Why don’t we sit down?”
Feyre’s face was crimson, she was sure of it. She hadn’t expected a compliment from him after that little incident. She tried to think of what Lucien would say right now. Don’t worry, it’ll be a fun story to tell your kids. Okay, not helping.
Trying to turn off her brain, admittedly without much success, Feyre nodded once more and let Rhys lead her over to a table by the window. It was mostly dark outside, so the choice of seating only allowed to give them some privacy as opposed to being in the middle of the room. Probably not a conscious choice on Rhys’ choice, but Feyre quite liked it.
He also pulled the chair out for Feyre to sit. What a gentleman.
Feyre awkwardly fumbled with the menu, trying not to stare at Rhys’ beautiful face.
“Have you been here before, Feyre?” So much for that.
She looked up. “No, I haven’t.”
“I’ve been a couple times. Of course you can get whatever you like, but I would recommend the braised pork. It was delicious.”
Feyre bit her lip. “It sounds good.”
The waiter came over just then and Rhys asked for the braised pork for himself, then Feyre said to make it two orders.
He left, and the pair was left in silence once more. “So, Rhys,” Feyre said, making an effort not to be entirely silent. “Tell me about yourself.”
He smiled. “I work as an architect. I like reading, sightseeing, and talking to interesting ladies. How about you?”
Feyre snorted. “I’m an artist. I like, well, painting I guess. And jogging. And talking to handsome men, I suppose I should say.”
Rhys full-on grinned. “Tell me about your work. Is it just paint, or other types of art?”
Feyre answered his question, and then a few more. She tried not to talk too much, not wanting to take over the conversation, but Rhys showed such a genuine interest in her passion that Feyre could help opening up. By the time the food arrived, he knew her style, her favorite colors to use, her methods of gaining inspiration, and her opinions on some classic pieces that Rhys seemed to know more than the average person about.
Then the waiter interrupted with their meal. Once everything was served and Feyre had already dug into the pork, which was even more delectable then Rhys had let on, he asked another question.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you decide to try out a blind date?”
Feyre finished chewing, using the time to think about how to answer his question properly. “I ended a bad relationship a few months ago, and I’ve been a bit lacking in confidence since then. I guess I’m just sick of spending my weekends alone. What about you?”
“I’ve been searching for a relationship for a while. I’m interested in the idea of spending my future with someone, so when Azriel suggested a date with you, I jumped at the chance.” Rhys seemed to reconsider his words. “Not that I would be spending my future with you, necessarily.” He paused. “I mean—”
“No, I get it,” Feyre cut in, not wanting to hear any more of this. “I’m not the type of person you want to be in a serious relationship with.” She had known all along. Rhys was charming and handsome and smart and funny and there was no reason he would want to spend his life with her of all people.
Rhys’ eyes widened. “No, not at all!” he exclaimed. “That came out wrong. I was only trying to take it back so as not to pressure you. I didn’t know how much you’d be okay with hearing me tell you how interested I was in you after saying I’m looking for a relationship.”
Feyre blinked, surprised to find that it hadn’t been a dismissal. Surprised at more than that. “Oh.”
Rhys smiled, the first signs of nervousness shining through his calm demeanor. “I like you, Feyre. We’ve only been talking for fifteen minutes, and already I like you. And I’m not getting too ahead of myself by claiming you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Not nearly this soon; hell, I just met you. But I do think you should know what I’m looking for so we can end this before it goes too far. If you’re not ready for something like that, I mean.”
Feyre was stunned. Rhys not only liked her, but enough to tell her something like that?
“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but I like you too,” she replied. And she meant it. Rhys was really nice, and very intriguing. She hadn’t considered what she wanted past a date. After all, she had been positive he would diss her by the end of it. But Feyre sure as hell wanted something with this man.
Rhys almost seemed surprised. “I’m not asking for commitment or anything like that. Certainly not on the first date. But maybe you can think over that later, and we can finish dinner now?”
Feyre smiled, still processing his words. “Okay.”
They dug in. There was less conversation than before, both because Feyre was too busy letting out content groans at the taste of the food and from the lingering awkwardness. But they did start talking more toward the end, Feyre snorting into her hand as she heard the end of some ridiculous story Rhys was telling her. By the time the waiter came over and let them know the restaurant was closing now, they’d returned to an animated conversation.
From everything to Rhys’ work as an architect to gossip about Azriel and Lucien to current events and old movies and bad jokes, it had crossed the discussion. Rhys was an exceptional conversationalist.
Rhys pulled out a wallet, but Feyre said, “We can split it.”
He glanced over. “I’ve got it, darling. Consider it my treat.”
Trying to suppress a shiver at the new nickname, Feyre said, “Really, I can help out.”
“Persistent, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll let you buy me coffee next time.”
Feyre knew he was teasing; there was no doubt he would refuse to let her pay next time. He seemed like the kind of guy to insist. Still, Feyre was more than satisfied with hearing that there would be a next time.
Disappointed with the fact they had to leave, but definitely pleased with how the date had gone, Feyre stood. Rhys walked Feyre out in silence, the latter surprised to find how long they’d been chatting. The restaurant was almost empty.
Feyre pulled her phone out of her purse.
“No ride, darling?” Rhys had raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“No, my friend dropped me off. He was worried I would flee if he didn’t actually bring me here himself.”
Rhys grinned. “Would you have fled?”
“Probably,” Feyre admitted.
“Let me drive you home. No expectations,” he added hastily at Feyre’s expression. “Just so you don’t have to wait out here. It’s getting cold.”
“Alright,” she agreed, very appreciative.
She’d sent Lucien a text and he had shot back a message letting her know he would be on the way. Feyre swiftly sent another text.
nvm rhys is dropping me off
Then she followed Rhys over to his car, laughing when he opened the door for her with a bow. Feyre wished she was the one driving; it would have been easier to keep her eyes off of him if she had something to focus on.
“Am I really that pretty?” So he’d noticed.
Feyre scowled. “Shut up.”
Rhys chuckled and glanced over, then turned his eyes back to the road. “I had a really nice time tonight, Feyre.”
“Me too,” she said.
The only words passed between them after that were directions on how to find Feyre’s apartment, fairly close to the restaurant. They were a street over when Feyre pulled a scrap of a receipt out of her purse, as well as a pen—Lucien often made fun of her having everything in her purse, but it was useful—and wrote down her number. They parked and Rhys looked over.
“So you don’t have to contact me through Lucien next time,” she clarified, handing him the paper.
Rhys smiled and put the paper in his pocket.
“Thank you for the ride, Rhys.”
He frowned mockingly. “What kind of person do you think I am, darling? Didn’t you know the good guys walk their dates to the door?”
Feyre laughed and mumbled something, getting out. Rhys stepped out of the car as well. But Feyre was starting to get nervous that Rhys was expecting something from her. Tamlin always had, after all.
They reached Feyre’s door and she stopped. But before she could say goodnight, Rhys seemed to realize why she was so anxious. He was too observant for his own good.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Feyre. I didn’t walk you here because I required anything of you.”
She flushed. “It’s not that I thought you would, exactly, I guess it just… been a while since I’ve met a nice guy.”
Rhys looked very sympathetic. “I understand. And for you, Feyre, I couldn’t care less if you wanted to drag me in your apartment and have your way with me now or wait a year to so much as kiss me. You’re worth it.”
There was no way Feyre’s face at all resembled a normal color. Or her ears. Or her neck. Gods, she was positively reeling.
“Really?”
“I had fun with you,” was all Rhys said.
Feyre barely noticed herself leaning closer. “Maybe a goodnight kiss wouldn’t be so bad.”
Rhys’ lips twitched and he assessed the sincerity of the statement. He leaned in slowly, giving Feyre every chance to back away, before planting his lips softly on hers.
Feyre melted into the kiss, obsessed with the soft feel of his mouth. It only last a few seconds, and Rhys’ touch remained featherlight. He pulled back, grinning.
“Goodnight, Feyre.”
She leaned against the wall for support. She was probably swooning. “Goodnight.”
One last smirk was all she got before he turned and walked down the hall.
Making it into her apartment, Feyre tried to process what had happened.
She’d met the man and made a fool of herself. Still, he had been nice and showed an interest in her. Then he had said he desired a serious relationship with someone, and she was a good candidate. There had been some more startled deer-like behavior on her part and some more suaveness from him. Then he had been super gentlemanly about not expecting her to sleep with him.
Basically, he was all Feyre could have wished for—and then some.
Feyre groaned loudly, throwing one of her flats at the wall. Then the other. She wasn’t sure why she was angry. Probably just because she’d been so ridiculous tonight. Or maybe it was the pent-up up hormones.
Feyre glanced at her phone, saw about a dozen messages from Lucien telling her to have fun and “be safe.” She threw her phone on the couch and grumbled about what a nosy little asshole her best friend was.
Then she slumped to the floor.
Feyre was going to spend the rest of her life mooning over Rhys and making a fool of herself, she already knew it. And she was going to love every second of it.
Oh, she was screwed.
———
Tag List:
@aelin-bitch-queen // @feysand-loml // @infernoqueen19 // @live-the-fangirl-life // @midsizewitch // @sleeping-and-books // @story-scribbler // @thebonecarver
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Or if we’re blind and the truth is just a painting in grey..
Izuku midoriya x gender-neutral reader!
BTW y/f/c stands for Your Favourite Color
Quirk info: Your quirk, Siren, allows you to have most of the characteristics of a siren. You can hypnotise the weak-willed with your voice, alluring them to do whatever you wish. You can breathe underwater AND on land, because i can’t keep you in the water if I want you to go exist near 1-a. You also have razor-sharp teeth for biting people, though one of the downsides of biting people is that you enter a euphoric/manic state whenever you accidentally drink someone’s blood. Allllsoooo your legs turn into fins in water and vice versa Y’know. But they still have scales!!! Cute little scaly legs. Also other downsides include:Sore throat from singing, weakened immune system (not too badly) and occasional aches in the gills
Summary: You’ve been a villain your whole life, or at-least since your quirk developed... But you aren’t really a villain. You’re a vigilante, and even still that term angers you… Because some vigilantes claim to kill for justice, and maybe if you disagree with that you aren’t one. But you’ve never killed anyone and you never plan to. Unlike those ‘heroes’ who claim to fight for justice, killing all those who oppose them.
If you asked yourself, it doesn’t matter what somebody’s done.
Because if you kill them, that’s just another life taken…
And they have the gall to excuse it with their sickening justice.
You hate heroes.
————;=+ Act 1; In which a siren sings her encore +=;————
You lied. There was one person you wouldn’t mind killing.
All Might.
And so, You had managed to engage a student of UA whilst trying to break in.
You just wanted him dead, is that too much to ask? Actually, don’t answer that. Hell, He was putting up such a fight that you’d happily just leave at this point! You didn’t want all-might dead THAT badly.
Suddenly, you’re snapped out of thoughts by Izuku going in for a punch. You hiss in anger as you quickly throw yourself out of the way, hearing a rib or two of yours cracking.
God.
Dammit.
’I’ll be fine for now.’ you mumble, standing up. You look Izuku in the eye, watching as his face swirls from anger to hate to pity to an apologetic look then repeating. Stop it, you think.
Stop pitying me, you think again.
He’s readying an attack, you notice. His stance tenses slightly when he’s charging an attack.
Your eye twitches as you seethe in rage. Finally, you begin to get too frustrated. You sigh, readying your voice to sing your song in one of its purest forms.
The boy hisses in confusion, seemingly trying to break out of your hypnosis. You tut.. He’d have so much potential, had it not been ruined by these ‘heroes’
Finally, you begin. Your voice wavers for a second at the beginning, but you manage to iron out most imperfections. Slowly but surely, the greenette’s eyes glaze over and he steps towards you.
You smile genuinely, for it has been far too long since you last hypnotised someone.
The boy stands awaiting your orders and you slowly stand, wincing. “Lucky for you, little bunny, - ow, - I didn’t plan on killing any students today, or any day, really..” you say, still pondering what to order him. ”Ah, Right, Tell me, little bunny, where is.. All might?” You sigh. you’ve always thought the name All Might was dumb.
The boy slowly points down the hall and you smile, turning on your heel. Your smile drops immediately as Eraserhead’s capture weapon wraps around you. It’s not too uncomfortable, all things considered, but you’d rather not be in it. And so, You struggle, attempting to bite the ‘scarf.’
It does not work, clearly, as you listen to your teeth scratch across the material. He seems to hum in realisation as he sees your teeth, scarp and triangle-shaped, clearly made for eating meat. You keep struggling as you lose energy, the pure adrenaline running through your bloodstream slowly fading out. Your struggling fades from ‘Feral cat’ to ’angry cicada’ in the span of about 20 seconds.
And the worst part? The ‘hero’ who caught you didn’t even react.
You feel the scarves tighten, cutting off your oxygen and covering your gills. After about 30 more seconds, you begin to pass out.
————;=-+ Act 2; In which.. Interviews amiright +-=;————
You awake in the UA interview room. More so an actual interview room than.. an impromptu villain interview room.
It still peeved you to be considered a villain, but at least it’s better than being considered a hero... You glance down to your hands, stuck in handcuffs. You aren’t all that uncomfortable, really, and you can’t help but be glad it’s warm in UA. Better than the streets, at the very least.
You glance down at your legs, thick scales running up them and slowly dissapearing at your hips. They glow a brilliant light Y/F/C, darkening at the edges where light doesn’t fully reach them. There’s some traces of a scalpel inspecting them, you judge by the perfectly straight scratches leading up some. You snort, imagining their confusion. Suddenly, a voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
”What’s so funny?” It says. You assume it’s an older man, judging by tone. “Ahh.. so there is someone listening,” you smile, “Were you inspecting the scales?” You say, cutting yourself off a few times with short-lived laughs. You hear a sharp sigh of exhaustion from the speaker.
”Name?” They ask. You decide to respond, despite the part of you telling you to be rebellious and silent. ”Technically don’t have one. Pronounced dead,” you sigh, “Try searching y/n y/ln”
Theres a 10 minute pause consisting mostly of you getting lost in your thoughts, before somebody seems to relay info to the mysterious voice (tm).
”Pronounced dead.. at age 5.” they say and you giggle. “Big surprise! I’m not dead.” You say, voice dripping with venom. There’s a resigned sigh as you avert your eyes.
So competent they just decided you were dead.
”Quirk?”
You giggle. ”My quirrrk?” You draw out the r, “It’s siren.”
”Siren as in ambulance siren?” The voice says.
”Siren as in man-eating mermaid.” You answer, though you dislike calling yourself a mermaid.
”…” There’s a short pause followed by… silence. Pure silence. It’s deafening, really, and your mind can’t help but imagine all the ways they could kill you. A few minutes later, a staff member - not eraserhead, luckily - walks in and removes the restraints. You flex your hands at the newfound freedom, immediately raising a hand to your gills which are placed upon your neck, as they try - and fail, due to you having lungs for on land - to suck in air. You stumble over to the camera, assuming - and hoping, - that there’s a microphone there too.
“You guys got any water bottles?” You ask, scratching at your gills. A few moments later, another staff member - it might be the same one, actually, - walks in with two bottles. Your eyes light up and you immediately open one, pouring it into your gills. You feel some relief at having ‘cleaned’ them out. It’s never fun when you get gunk. though, for a second, you are concerned that the water might be poisoned.
You take your other water bottle, pouring out a little bit onto your palm. There’s enough water left to soothe your sore throat, since you are now realising that you weren’t, at all, ready to use your song at such a high perfection level. Slowly, You run your now-wet palm up your scales, moistening them slightly. It feels nice, okay? Don’t judge, It’s rude.
”hang on..” you mumble, spinning on your heel to walk around the room. “did those assholes take my phone?” You ponder aloud. There’s a short crackle from the speaker, followed by a “Yes.”
”oh.” you sigh, kicking your legs up onto a table. You immediately fall over, since you managed to forget you were standing.
”Hey, what time is it?” you say into the void, hoping the mic will pick you up. “16:34” they say.
“cool!” You say, ironically unenthusiastically.
After a few minutes, you begin to get bored. You decide to whine to the mic. “I’m borrrreeeddd….” you whine, seemingly forgetting you’re literally a criminal. Not a big one, but a criminal. Of
Theres a short click from the door as a staff member opens it, they’re holding a phone. Not your phone, sadly, but a phone. “Hell yeah!” You say, bounding over to the phone. You grab it as the staff member hurries out the room, seemingly afraid. “Don’t get any ideas, it’s tracked.” The voice says, once again coming from the speaker at a slightly-lower-than-comfortable volume.
You scroll through the mostly blank phone, until you stumble upon a group-chat. ‘Class 1-A,’ It’s named.
Huh, you think, clicking on it.
————;=+ Act 3; In which you make fun of class 1-a +=;————
Class 1-A
16:47
Tsu: We still up for girl’s movie night?
Y/n: mowovie night
Kirishima: huh???
Bakugou: WILL YOU STOP BLOWING UP MY FUCKING PHONE
Bakugou: FOR FIVE
Bakugou: MINUTES
Y/n: will youwu stowop blowoing uwup my fuwucking phowone owo
Bakugou: I AM GOING TO TEAR YOU APART
Kaminari: lol
Kaminari: Wait who’s that?
Kirishima: bro yeah who IS that
Iida Ten
Bakugou: STOP PARROTING EACH OTHER YOU DUMBASSES
Y/n: stowop parrowoting each owother youwu duwumbasses owo
Bakugou: I’LL RIP YOU APART
Y/n: I’ll rip yowouwu awpart…
Kaminari: Bakugou hang on lmfao
Momo: Theres nobody named y/n in our class
y/n: i’m ur uncle
Momo: Who’s uncle?
y/n: yes <3
Tsu: ?
Izuku: Guys, please stop blowing up my phone I’m trying to watch tv,,,
y/n: izuwukuwu
Izuku: Huh,,,,?
y/n: huwuh,,,?
Izuku: Why is everyone messaging me???? and telling me not to use this chat???
Bakugou: WE COULD‘VE EXPLAINED IT TO YOU IN DMS YOU IDIOT
Y/n: we cowouwuld’ve explained it towo yowouwu in dms yowouwu idiowot
Tenya IIda: Please stop sending so many messages in the chat. I am trying to sleep.
y/n: damn lemme just stop my hilarity so you can sleep /s
y/n: wait
y/n: I mean uhh
y/n: please stowop sending sowo many messages in the chat. I am trying towo sleep.
Tenya Iida: Please do not make fun of what I say. Please remember I am a moderator here,
Y/n: ’moderator’ bitch this is a gorilchat
y/n: shit
y/n I mean groupchat
y/n: also I mean
y/n: Please dowo nowot make fuwun owof what I say. Please remember I am a mowoderatowor.
Kirishima: srsly who is this
y/n: me looking into a mirror ^^^
Bakugou: ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION
y/n: woahh calm down there hot stuff
y/n: get it
y/n: because you’re not hot
Momo: Can’t say they’re wrong there, Bakugou.
Kirishima: ^ Don’t be mean to bakubro!!!
y/n: are any of you organic creatures
Kaminari: I am
y/n: give life juice pls thx
Kirishima: they’re reverting back into gamer speak from their hunger :ooooo
y/n: what u want me to talk like mr stick-up-my-ass iida
Tenya Iida: Please refrain from using profanity, Y/n!
y/n: wow I’m so sorry I’ll never do it again (1/2)
Tenya Iida: Thank you.
y/n: I mean really I’ll never do it again mr stick-up-my-ass iida (2/2)
Bakugou: KARMA FOR TELLING MEMTKO GET MY FEET OFF MY DESK
y/n: wow mr not-hot did you just have a stroke
Bakugou: I’M GONNAKILL OYU
Y/n: well I hope Oyu is ok
Y/n: also if you’re wondering who I am
y/n: sorry for lying (I’m not)
y/n: Y/n sent a photo
(PHOTO ID: A photo of a young girl, seemingly. they’re no older than 16, by the looks of it. They have brilliant y/f/c scales across their entire legs that fade out near the hips. Her face is pulled into a grin with razor-sharp teeth unlike that of a human.)
Kirishima: wasn’t Izuku fighting someone like that in the hall
Y/n: bingo! fingetbuns
Y/n: *fingergusn
y/n: fINGERSUNS
y/n: NO
y/n: FUNGHUNS
Y/n: HFJFHHFJDIDBJDIFH FINGERHUNS
Izuku: it’s okay, take your time (:
Y/n: FINWR GUNS
Kirishima: ur getting there bro!!!
Y/n: FINGERGUSN
y/n: NO
Y/n: Finger guns
Bakugou: STOP FUCKING SPAMMING
Kirishima: i’m so proud of my mermaid son
Y/n: siren*
Kirishima: I’m so proud of my mermaid siren
Y/n: yeah ok I guess
Y/n: serious question
Y/n: does anyone have a small amount of blood
Y/n: that they’d be willing to gift towards me
Kaminari: wtff
Kirishima: bro I got some right here
y/n: give pls
Kirishima: where do I have to go B)
Y/n: go find aizawa and tell him to give blood to the siren girl
Kirishima: oki
-——————-
In the UA interview room, You smile down at your phone.
They’re actually willing to be kind to you, even if you just fought them. You’re actually happy.
It’s an odd feeling,
But it’s one you’d like to keep.
-——————-
Class 1-A
17:22
Y/n: I got my blood
y/n: down the hatch
Kirishima: kindness is manly
y/n: damnfucki; right iwns tis
Kaminari: huh
Izuku: are you okay
y/n: bkoodjsm
Izuku: i think they’re saying blood?
y/n: hehe
Bakugou: STOP BEING WEIRD
y/n: djhrnsia rothg god i am so fhilarous
y/n: nr igni kimsh
y/n: ithink I might have anxiey
y/n: anxieuty
Kirishima: bro u okay?
Mineta: cute…
y/n: i am going to hurt you
AUTO: MINETA left the chatroom
Momo: oh thank god
Jirou: ^^^^
y/n: hwlrnd
y/n: how say
y/n: how say jrlis
y/n: jirou
Jirou: jee-roh
y/n: skfnsj blood make
y/n: me is haopy
Izuku: Blood makes you happy?
y/n: yed
Izuku: it’s very interesting to have a quirk that’s mutation but also allows you to gain serotonin/dopamine
Izuku: what else does your quirk do?
y/n: sing sovng
y/n: make peop,e do what I want
y/n: but hurt throat
y/n: leg turn fin
y/n: make hunfhyehdbvlood
Izuku: I’m designing a hero costume as we speak!
Bakugou: NERD
Kirishima: manly!
Izuku: (:
y/n: thenhahighswearingiffof
Izuku: translation: The high is wearing off
y/n: thus koamsjs
y/n: brb
——
y/n: ): high wore off
Izuku: What WAS that?
Y/n: blood side effect
Y/n: its really fun
Izuku: Hang on
Auto: Izuku called Sensei Aizawa
——
Class 1-A
18:12
Izuku: ok I asked eraserhead n he said he doesn’t mind (:
Izuku: Can I interview you
Y/n: do I get blood after
Izuku: Sure!
Y/n: DEAL
———
You look down at your phone.
It’s been a hour of you scrolling the internet, looking at memes that only earned a short snort from you.
You’re tired, although it’s only 19:32.
You decide it doesn’t matter, and that you’ll sleep.
You spin around on your heel, before pausing. There’s no bed.
Ah well. Floor looks awfully comfy.
-———
You awake around 9Am with only the light of an old lightbulb to illuminate the room. You miss seeing the light from the water, sitting on a rock until the sun finally peaked... But you were lonely, back then. You aren’t sure whether or not you want to go back to those days.
A small knock at the door alerts you of Izuku coming around for his interview. He’s holding a notebook that has ‘Y/N quirk’ messily written on.
He glances down at your legs, covered in shimmering scales. His eyes light up with fascination, to which you chuckle. “You can touch.” You say, watching his hand reach down to the y/f/c coloured scales.
His hand runs gently over them. You grin watching his fascination, and he looks up. He pulls a fold-out seat from the hallway, placing it behino the table before placing himself upon it.
You sit down on the opposite table, smiling. He glances up towards your teeth, watching them glimmer. “Don’t they.. hurt your gums?” He asks.
“Oh, these,“ you press a finger against the top of your tooth, immediately drawing blood, “the skin near them is hardened so they don’t stab me.”
you watch him turn his head down immediately and start writing in his notebook. You glance over, watching him write down all the info about your quirk. He seems to be sketching a costume on the side.
”Oh, don’t forget the voice thing.” You notify to him. He glances up, eyes questioning, tilting his head like a puppy. “Cute.” You say flirtatiously. He turns bright red, averting his eyes before trying to change the subject. “S-so.. if I were to film your song would it still hypnotise me?” He asks.
You wink at him. “Wow, wanting to listen to me sing already..” You say, “I’m just kidding, It wouldn’t hypnotise you, but you might cry. Just a side effect.”
Izuku averts his eyes, blushing furiously. “Could I get a r-recording of it.”
Does he really have a crush on me? You think.
Is that really why he wants a recording of me singing?
You respond with a mere “Yeah, sure.”
He nods, pulling his phone out of his pocket, ”Should I leave?“ he asks, and you nod.
As soon as he leaves, the pull of your quirk on your phone begins.
You derive your tune from the one you’d sing at the beach. It’s sad and melancholic but there’s an upbeat note, reminiscing on times where you felt free even if there was a tug upon your heart. The air seems to split, allowing the vibrations of your song to pull across the air. It’s not the perfected version, but it’s close.
You love to sing, really, but you’ve always felt bad. you’re only good at singing when you’re using your quirk.
Finally, your song fades out and you hit the record button to turn it off. There’s now a 3:30 minute long recording on Izuku’s phone.
You open the door to see Izuku with a pair of earplugs in, so you push aside your shock at the fact you could just open the door.
You tap him, watching him jump. So cute, you both think in unison.
So cute.
You him his phone, having now secretly added your number.
Very sneaky.
—————
13:36
Izuku: Very sneaky lol
Y/n: (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ what can I say I’m an assassin.
Y/n: btw tell aizawa to get me a bed lmfao
Izuku: You don’t have a bed!? Where did you sleep last night?
Y/n: floor comfy
Izuku: lol weird
Y/n: said the boy with a notebook about me (⁄ ⁄•⁄Ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄
Izuku: bullying
Y/n: possibly <3
———
Another day passes, more texts coming back and forth from Izuku.
He’s really flirting.. huh…
He’s cute. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the familiar ding of Izuku messaging you
———
Izuku: wyd lol
Y/n: nursing my sore throat lol I practiced my song too much
Izuku: :o oh no
Y/n: it’s fine B) I’m too cool to be defeated by a mere sore throat
Izuku: lol (:
Y/n: wyd
Izuku: just went to recovery girl!!! I broke a finger again ):: I was making so much progress,,
Y/n: it’s not reverting your progress!! It’s still progress.
Izuku: y/n you’re gonna make me cry..
Y/n: go listen to that recording then crybaby
Izuku: THAT RECORDING LITERALLY MAKES ME CRY ):::::
Y/n: yeah cuz ur a crybaby <3
Izuku: stopppp bullying meee <3
Y/n: it always looks like ur flirting when you put a <3 (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄
Izuku: does that mean that you’re flirting?
Y/n: possibly
———
A few more days pass, flirtatious messages passing back and forth.
They’re just a joke, you’d think, blushing furiously.
———
15:32
Y/n: IzukuHeklp
Izuku: ??? Whats wrong??
Y/n: ripped scalepain
Y/n: Y/n sent a photo message
(Photo ID: It’s a picture of y/n’s y/f/c scales. One appears to have been ripped off of her skin, and there’s blood coming from underneath it. Through the blood you can just barely see an underdeveloped scale that was going to replace the broken scale when it was ready.)
———
You’re pulled out of your agony but Izuku slamming open the door, rushing to your side. He’s holding a piece of cloth clearly ripped off of his shirt. He wraps it around your leg gently, watching attentively as it soaks up blood. He picks you up bridal-style, not even noticing the way both you and him blush heavily.
(By the time you’ve reached Recovery girl, the piece of cloth is almost as red as your face.)
You lay on the small bed, bleeding now stopped due to recovery girls quirk. You glance toward izuku, tears welling up in his eyes. You gently pat his head, watching him watch you.
”Stooppp cryingggg” you whine.
Recovery girl watches you with a look that says “oh to be young and in love..”
Izuku pouts. “Make me.” He sighs jokingly.
You spot your opportunity there. “What if I told you that you could come ’round to my room later?” You say blushing.
Izuku turns tomato-red, nodding.
————
As soon as your out of recovery girls office, Izuku follows you like a puppy. You glance toward the bandage now wrapped around your leg to stop infection. Turns out ‘you didn’t have enough energy to fully heal it from all those all-nighters‘ or something.
You open the door to your room, fairy lights turned on and glowing purple. There’s a small sofa that fits two and Izuku beelines for it. You’re so glad Aizawa let you decorate your room. You sit down next to him, cunning your perfect plan.
”I think I hate all-might a little less, now-“ you say, preparing yourself for the infodump from Izuku.
“i’m so glad! You know, ever since the toxic chainsaw fight-“ Izuku begins, not noticing you tune him out after 5 minutes. “Stop infodumping..” you say playfully and he picks up on it. “Make me!” he pouts.
”Sure.” You smirk, leaning in.
As soon as your lips collide, Izuku seems to blank out. He’s blushing red like a tomato. The rain outside seems to quieten over the roar of your pounding hearts..
And you don’t regret it at-all.
Once you finally pull away from the kiss, izuku’s a stuttering mess. “Wh-W-What does th-this make us?…” he asks, stuttering and stumbling over his words. You chuckle, leaning in close to his face so you’re essentially in his lap. “I think you know..” you coo into his ear, watching it slowly turn pink.
He nods slowly, watching you. “So.. I was thinking about a beach date?” you say, softly. He giggles slightly, although he still stumbles over the sound. “Sounds to me like you just want to go into the water..” he says.
You look him in the eye.
”I never said you couldn’t come into the water, too..”
#Bnha x reader#Midoriya Izuku x reader#izuku midoriya x you#izuku midoriya x y/n#reader-insert#reader insert#midoriya Izuku x you#midoriya Izuku x y/n
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'birds of prey': a cinematic masterpiece
It's been a little over a year since Birds of Prey came out, a couple of months since I watched in on a whim, and I'm still not over this film.
Too many men people get pressed whenever you say you like this movie. "It's objectively bad," they say. "It's campy. It's too divergent from the canon. It's SJW propaganda."
Who gives a fuck, Richard? Who gives a single flying fuck?
I'll preface this by saying, my knowledge of the DCU is flimsy, at best. I've watched a couple of movies. My mum used to watch Smallville. I watched the pilot episode of Gotham. And I know enough about it to get the few references sprinkled in other media. But I draw a complete blank when it comes to the comics. So the canon of the comics had no effect on my enjoyment of the movie. Which I did. A lot.
I walked in blind when I watched Birds of Prey for the first time. I was unaware of the controversy surrounding it, and the only reason I even gave it the time of day was because I was bored.
I watched Suicide Squad circa 2016, and positively abhorred it- the only good thing about it was the soundtrack (the best songs are always wasted on the worst movies. Case in point: Twilight). And the not-so-casual misogyny was just... Yikes.
And then, we got Birds of Prey.
Since watching the film, I did a bit of research (see: Googling 'birds of prey movie reviews' and clicking on the first few results that popped up). The response was mixed- which honestly came as a surprise, since I thought it was great, and mine is the only opinion that holds weight.
I've read and watched a lot of those reviews. I watched the CinemaSins video. I watched the CinemaWins video, because CinemaSins has taken a major nosedive since I first started watching them.
Were all the negative reviews not-so-subtly indicative of the (predominantly male) critics' misogyny? I dunno; how did they talk about similar male-centered action films? I don't think it's fair to scream, "SEXIST!" just because someone didn't like the movie. Critics hated Venom (which was admittedly pretty meh. I still enjoyed it, though), but it was still pretty well-received by viewers.
I saw one review say that Birds of Prey was 'for the birds'... I'll let you unpack that yourself.
And yet, though I try to keep an open mind, I find it unfathomable how anyone can dislike Birds of Prey.
One of my favorite parts about the movie was the female gaze present throughout its entirety. I've seen people bring up the obvious change in Harley's costume- which I'm a bit iffy about, to be honest. Don't get me wrong- I love her choppy bangs and fun pigtails and the whole fluffy top thing she's got going on, but a whole lot of the critique towards her getup in Suicide Squad comes off a tad too slut-shamey (that isn't a word? Well, it is now).
Her outfit wasn't the issue. It's how she was framed.
In Suicide Squad, we get loads of shots of men leering at Harley, and a little too much emphasis on her breasts and arse in almost every scene she's in. As opposed to Birds of Prey, where Harley's still sexy (I'm seriously concerned for the straight men who found Harley unattractive in this film... You good, Pete?), but we focus on her face instead.
That part where Harley gives Canary a hair tie in the middle of a fight scene? Brilliant.
The characters have depth (a lot of reviews disagree with me. Well, what do I know? I am but a lowly STEM student). One of my favorites was Canary (and not just because I found her insanely attractive)- I love, love, love her arc in the film.
I've seen people complain that the villain didn't really get all villainy until towards the end of the film; which, if Sionis had to put on the mask for you to finally see him as the bad guy, then you've clearly missed most of the film. He's literally introduced while he's peeling the skin off of someone's face. Not to mention that one particular scene at the club- I won't go into too much detail, because it could be triggering to a lot of people- but it chilled me to the bone.
Following up with the villains: "All the men are bad guys," they say. "The whole film is feminist propaganda," they say.
And me posting this on International Women's Day is a bit on-the-nose, I'll admit, but this particular critique bothers me. Because those men aren't unrealistic. They aren't caricatures of men in the real world. We all know men just like them. A lot of them hit a little too close to home for me.
I've seen people complain that women touting the film as feminist turned them off from it- which, I dunno about you, but seems problematic to me on so many levels. Sure, not everything has to have a political agenda, but it's hardly like Harley & Co. scream, "GIRL POWER!" every three minutes.
(Also: it's funny how way more people get mad about poorly executed feminism than actual issues a lot of women in the world face, but that's a topic for another day.)
The diversity was just- wow. Getting not only one but FOUR Asian characters with lines? Hollywood, am I dreaming? The LGBTQ+ representation (not going into Sionis and Zsasz being queer coded)? Holy shit, yes! Maybe I'm getting too excited about this- Hollywood's a lot kinder to us minorities as of late- but it still fills me with joy whenever I see people like me onscreen.
Another complaint that springs up with regards to Birds of Prey is the skewed order in which Harley narrates the events. Which is kind of one of her defining traits- she's an unreliable narrator. And she makes it pretty obvious (this video explains it better than I can). The cartooned beginning was engaging, as corny as some of it was (loved the style, too).
The fight scenes were thrilling to watch. Not a single minute passed by where I was bored (my eyes usually glaze over during prolonged action scenes in films, which did not happen in this case). The comedy was well-timed and bold; the cartoonishness added to its charm.
And this is probably not even significant, but I adored the color scheme. I loved the bright, shocking colors; the emphasis on the pinks, reds and blacks.
And, finally, how could I go without mentioning the soundtrack? It was divine- I listen to the Birds of Prey album on Spotify almost every day; Lonely Gun and Experiment On Me are among my most-played songs, and the rest of the music is just as delightful.
In conclusion: go watch Birds of Prey if you haven't already. It's the closest thing to a spiritual experience I had last year.
#birds of prey#harley quinn#suicide squad#movie#movie review#dc comics#dcu#feminism#international womens day#women#action#margot robbie#joker#canary#huntress#feminist
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“Here” part 3!
Here is part 3! Enjoy!
********
I woke up early that next morning, yawning and stretching myself. I found that a neatly folded pile of fresh clothes were by my bedside and new shoes. I smiled putting them on.
It was a soft and nice blue blouse and pants as I looked quite nice in it. I could hear chatter outside my room as I looked outside.
D’Vorah and Erron seemed to be discussing something.
“That broken flower of a human is powerless! How can they be able to serve the Kahn?”
“Indigos are rare, D’Vorah. They’re one of a kind and they can alter their abilities if given time.”
Indigo? What in God’s name is an Indigo?
I hid behind my door listening in on it. The bug lady began,
“Erron, you wasted your money. That human will die young you know. The only way to spare them is to take them to Shang Tsung and slow their aging process.”
“I know. I plan to.”
“Without the Kahn’s consent?”
“Beat you to the punch. He said I can last night.”
“If you insist, but if that moon child turns into bloody slime its your responsibility.”
I gulped at that statement. What were they gonna do to me?!
I had to keep myself calm as I could hear footsteps approach my door.
“Hey, Y/N, you awake?” Erron called.
“Just a second!”
I open the door to see Erron with a veil over his arm and he tells me,
“Well, you’re comin’ with me kid.”
“Okay. Where to?”
“To a friend of mine. He can answer your questions.”
He approaches me to place the veil over my head.
“Nuttin’ personal kid, but the Kahn wanted me to see to slowing down your aging process. That way you’ll be around for a few centuries.”
I was in total disbelief.
“Wait, what?! What are you saying?”
He sighed with an annoyed tone informing me,
“I am saying that the Kahn doesn’t like the shortness of a human life span, so I’m taking you to a special friend of mine to take care of that. Now come with me.”
I nodded and he called to D’Vorah.
“Hey! Toss me that amulet will ya’?”
The bug lady smiled and handed him the device,
“With pleasure Erron.”
Taking the item, he opens another portal wiping slime off his hand with his pants. He looked at me for a split second before he looked away.
I wonder what this was all about…
“Well, let’s go.” he didn’t sound confident but I obey.
“Y…yes sir…”
I follow him through the portal, and he grabbed my wrist. It didn’t hurt, but he was frighteningly strong.
“You move too slowly. Stay behind me.”
“Okay, sorry…”
Once through the portal, I find myself in a place not like the throne room of Kotal Kahn’s palace. It had a temple feel with jade statues everywhere.
I see Erron walk with me, my wrist still in his hand to a man with what seemed to be Chinese features. Long black hair neatly braided behind him and silk black and yellow robes. He smiles seeing the man holding my wrist.
“My dear friend Erron Black. What a pleasant surprise.”
“Hello Shang. I have a problem.”
Erron let go of my wrist finally but left a welt in me. He pushed me towards the man as Shang coyly replied,
“Be gentle! You brought a fine specimen. What do you plan on with this mortal? An offering to my experiments?”
Erron told him,
“I need you to slow down that kid’s aging process. Kahn’s orders.”
Shang gathered my hands into his while he stared at me,
“Pity I can’t keep you my dear. This one is quite beautiful…Is this one a sleigh beggy by chance?”
“No, They’re an Indigo, a moon child. Or as some call them lost souls.” Erron’s tone sounded concerned, or maybe it was just me. I can sense a person’s tone how they really feel. Is he actually concerned about me?
“Ahhh I see. If this one were a sleigh beggy that would be twice as difficult to work with.”
Shang brought his hand up to touch my face. I felt odd receiving such compliments.
“I see why Kotal Kahn wants this one, quite special indeed. Thank you Black. i will see to that at once.”
Erron warned him,
“No funny business, we clear?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Shang asked in a playful tone.
“I mean, don’t make any stupid mistakes or fuck up. I payed good money for that Indigo.” Erron growled.
Shang’s expression turned into a smirk.
“You bought this moon child? As much as I am opposed to buying slaves I will admit, you bought a beauty.”
Shang lowers his hands off my face and takes my hand.
“Come with me you two so we may begin.”
I turn my gaze to Erron, and I could see a bit of fear or concern in his eyes. Well, I am scared too a bit. I don’t know this Shang Tsung from Adam or Eve for that matter.
Shang led us to a work room I presume, full of all kinds of items I never saw on Earth. Were there embalming tools on the table? And I wondered why there were fetuses in jars of some odd orange liquid on a high shelf. I felt uneasy as Shang strides into his small back room for something.
“Ah ha! Here it is!”
He reveals a large green box with an ornately decorated lid. In a way it resembled a treasure chest but with a heart design on the lock. He handed it to Erron,
“You know the procedure Black.”
“Of course. Hey Y/N…”
I turned my attention to Erron.
“Can you reach behind me and grab that satchel hanging off my belt? Its the brown one next to the small vials of sand. I would but my hands are full.”
“Okay.” I replied.
I walk behind him, pushing his cape aside reaching for the small pouch.
Erron said calmly,
“Shang, how’s a hundred thousand for payment?”
“That will be just fine. If you were a stranger I’d charge extra.”
“I know,”
Erron informed me,
“Hand the coin pouch to him. I have what you need.”
Nodding, I handed the coin purse to the man,
“Thank you my dear.” Shang smiled, placing the bag on his desk. Knitting his fingers together, he purred,
“Now I just need a blood sample and we can get started.”
“Blood sample? What are you up to?” Erron asked.
“Not from you, them.” He said pointing to me. I felt afraid and hugged Erron’s side. I began to tremble fearing the worst.
“Don’t be afraid, he’s gonna help you…I hope.” His last statement was more of a whisper.
Shang patted my head,
“I didn’t mean to frighten you, child.”
He pulls a small knife out from his sleeve,
“May I see your arm?”
I reluctantly stretch my arm out, and as quick as a wink, Shang cut my wrist across with a swift motion. I wince in pain as I saw blood drain from my wrist.
“Don’t hurt them, Shang.” Erron hissed.
“Oh I won’t friend.”
The man took his now bloody knife and tasted it.
Eww…
He smiled, and said in a pleased tone.
“I knew it…that taste is one in three trillion.”
Erron looked at me in a fearful manner as Tsung continued,
“This one is truly an indigo. You chose a great specimen. Now, you two may leave to your own accord. The instructions on the age slowing process are in the chest.”
Erron gave a polite tip of his hat, and walked with me out the door. I held the door open for him as he set the box down onto the ground. He inspected my cut as he shook his head.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“He shouldn’t have cut you like that. Any deeper you would get an infection.”
He reaches into one of his pockets and bandages up my wound with a handkerchief.
“That should slow down the bleeding.”
“Erron?”
“What?”
“Where you afraid of what would happen?”
He looked down to his shoes and took a while to answer me.
“He’s been different for a while now. I…I can’t explain how.”
I hugged him tightly out of whatever instinct I had telling me to.
“Huh?”
“Thank you Erron. I oddly feel safe around you…” I whispered.
Rubbing my head, he said to me in a softer tone,
“You’re welcome. Let’s get you back to the Kahn’s quarters so I can get your age slowing started.”
I nodded letting go of him. He pushed my face up to look at me.
“Are you feeling all right? You look kind of pale…”
“I’m fine…what the…”
Suddenly, the world around me felt like it was spinning. I felt dizzy and I fell to the ground. Everything turned black as I closed my eyes.
Erron’s POV
“Y/N!”
I tried to grab them as they fell but I managed to keep their head from hitting the ground. I felt my throat grow tight in concern as I looked around wondering how to assess the situation. The veil I had on Y/N to protect them didn’t work it seemed. That thing was supposed to help protect from Shang’s spellwork! But wait…
What exactly am I feeling? Why did my heart suddenly feel tight when Y/N fell?
Tossing Y/N over my shoulder, I try to reach for my belt for Shinnok’s amulet. Opening a portal to Kotal Kahn’s throne room, I stick it back to my belt and lift the box of things Y/N needed. I get up to walk through the portal. Soon, I see Kotal Kahn stand waiting by the portal.
“What has happened?” He demanded.
“Y/N passed out on our way back. I dunno what Shang did to them. He acted totally different when I went to get the things we need.”
The Kahn rubbed his chin to think.
“That sorcerer has been different? How?”
“When I informed him Y/N was an indigo, he seemed to grow malicious. I think he wanted to keep them for his experiments.”
The Kahn nodded,
“Good thing you left early then. I don’t want my future soothsayer to be dead.”
“Yes my lord.”
I carried the box and Y/N to their small bed, placing the chest on the floor. Opening the chest was a small vial, a note and some things I used when I slowed my aging. But this didn’t seem right.
Closing the chest, the Kahn tisk-tisks at me.
“I did what I had to my Emperor.”
“That is not the issue Erron. If what happened was because of Shang Tsung, you are not in the wrong here. You may stay with Y/N until they awaken.”
“Yes my lord…”
Now what should I do? But I didn’t ask. No way would I risk it.
to be continued…
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From horny twitter: Hermann writes a very very detailed review of a vibrator online
not sfw below cut!!!!!!!!!!!
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Now, usually, Newt doesn’t mess around when he’s on the clock, because that’d be very unprofessional of him and that’s totally not who he is, but he’s in a little bit of a rut with his current project and could use the distraction. Online shopping is his favorite go-to distraction these days: he can lose himself in size charts and color options and hunts for coupon codes and forget, even for a few minutes, that the end of the world is accelerating towards them at an intimidating rate. Plus, he can write off half his shit as work-related expenses. Win-win. Though maybe not this particular search.
Newt has a pretty reliable arsenal of sex toys he’s used on rotation since he packed up and shipped across the world for the PPDC, but the ten-year warranty vibe he’s used since PhD #3 (and his favorite of the bunch) finally crapped out on him last week after a historically intense fight with Hermann got him historically wound up. Eleven years ain’t bad. After testing out a different charger, poking around in the wiring, and even going so far as to zap it a few times with some sorta-stolen drift tech to see if it stirred any life back into it, he finally decided it was time to just mourn, move on, and buy a new one. (Even if, unfortunately, his particular favorite model was discontinued when the company’s factory was destroyed in a kaiju attack and they never quite managed to recover. More casualties of the war.)
The sex toy market is truthfully booming during the apocalypse. It makes sense, Newt guesses—anything for a distraction. Personally, for Newt, orgasms tend to dampen his own existential dread, even if it’s just for a few minutes. He scrolls idly through a few Top Ten For 2023 listicles on various sex magazine websites to see if anything jumps out at him (some of the recommended toys are dildos he already has, and vibes that are a little beyond his k-sci paycheck), just hoping for something to jump out at him. Apparently he missed out on a limited-edition run of jaeger and kaiju-themed vibes and dildos that came out in early January, which he’s honestly a little pissed about—he’s the top expert on kaiju biology, god damn it! Didn’t anyone want to consult with him about their hypothetical junk? Accuracy matters.
“It’s all off,” Newt mutters grumpily as he examines a 360 view of one of the kaiju dildos. Trespasser. “It’s not even the right color. Fucking amateurs. Did they even try?”
“What are you doing?” Hermann says.
Newt slams his laptop shut. Hermann decided to cut his lunch break short today, apparently. “Shopping,” he says.
“You sounded awfully angry about something, is all,” Hermann says. He clacks over to his half of the lab and shrugs off his big parka, then pauses. “Do you need to...talk about it?”
“No,” Newt says.
Hermann breathes out in obvious relief. “Good,” he says.
He takes his usual spot at his chalkboard and resumes his calculating. Newt re-opens his laptop and scrolls away from Trespasser before he can make himself angry over anatomical inaccuracies again. The jaeger vibes from the collection are pretty cool, actually; the designs are a lot cleaner, and their artistic license is a lot more forgivable. The highest-rated of the set is one obviously (but not enough to invoke copyright infringement, if that can even exist for a jaeger) modeled off of Coyote Tango, with like, a million different settings, and an astronomical cost to match. Newt eyes it enviously. He could be shoving that up his ass right now if he’d just signed up for a stupid email list last year.
He follows the link to Amazon to read through some of the reviews enviously, too. Life-changing; best money ever spent; warranty lasts a lifetime. Ten stars across the board. Sold out, obviously. No idea when it’ll be back in stock. He could get the Striker Eureka model for twice the original cost as when it came out, if he wanted, but the idea of constantly having to associate the twenty-something punk Hansen kid with his intimate affairs makes him shudder.
A nine-star review for the Coyote Tango model from someone named MathLover69 is the only one to make Newt really pause, on account of how absolutely insane it is.
I saved quite a few paychecks to purchase this vibrator, and though the cost is steep, I must say it is absolutely worth it. As opposed to my normal vibrator (here another vibe is linked, and Newt’s eyebrows jump at that price, too), which has only five settings, an admittedly bulky body, and average battery life, the CT2023 has a generous ten, a sleeker design, and charges fully in a matter of minutes. The orgasms I have experienced while using it are higher in quality (and more numerous) than any resulting previously from masturbation, though I have not tried beyond setting six yet. It also works wonders for stress relief. (I have an incredibly irritating colleague, and nothing calms me down so much as a quick round with the CT2023 after a spat with him.)
The body is versatile enough to be either inserted into one’s—
Newt feels heat rise to his cheeks in spite of himself, and he skims the second paragraph of MathLover69’s review to get the gist of it—that there are, uh, plenty of ways to utilize the vibe, that it’s discreet and small enough to wear to work (if you were inclined to do so, as MathLover69 implies he might’ve been) and that when combined with the Yamarashi dildo, the pleasurable experience increased tenfold. Talk about oversharing. Jeez.
My only complaint would be that the design is a poor approximation of the real Coyote Tango, and for that I’ve docked a star. I would recommend this product.
“This guy is a total nut,” Newt says to himself.
“Hm?” Hermann says.
Newt considers the implications of showing Hermann the vibrator listing: Hermann will know he was shopping for sex toys, Hermann will know he was shopping for kaiju and jaeger-themed sex toys, Hermann will know he was shopping for kaiju and jaeger-themed sex toys during working hours a mere ten feet away from him. Embarrassing, but on the other hand, MathLover69’s review is too funny to not share with someone else. “Hey, Hermann,” Newt says, angling his laptop towards Hermann. “Look. Who comments shit like this?”
Hermann descends his ladder carefully and inches up behind Newt’s shoulder, squinting at his laptop screen. He immediately turns bright red. Newt must’ve offended his Victorian sensibilities with the mere suggestion of self-abuse. “Oh,” he says. “Er.”
“Way TMI,” Newt says. “Listen to this line. ‘With the Yamarashi toy inserted into one’s mouth, and the CT2023 inserted up one’s—'”
“Well, how else is one meant to review a masturbatory aid?” Hermann snaps, surprising Newt. He looks oddly flustered. “Details can be—er—helpful. Can’t they?”
“Sure, dude,” Newt snorts. “Except they’re obviously just screwing with people. They literally have a 69 in their username.” He taps at the MathLover69, and doesn’t mention—on behalf of Hermann’s delicate mathematician feelings—that the MathLover part is obviously meant as a joke too.
“Well,” Hermann says. “Perhaps it’s just his—er, their birthdate.”
Newt turns around to stare at Hermann, taking in his red cheeks, his red ears, and the gaze he’s fixed steadily on his shoes. It’s all Newt can do to not to gape at him. “Hermann, you’re kidding,” he says. “Right?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Hermann says.
“You didn’t,” Newt says.
“I,” Hermann stammers. “Well—”
“I didn’t even know you—”
“That I what?” Hermann says.
Newt gives a half-shrug. Hermann doesn’t seem the type to engage in any sort of vice, let alone this kind. And especially not with the type of sex toys he apparently gravitates towards. (If Newt was a little bolder, and had a little less shame and care for hygiene, he might ask to check out the Yamarashi, because anatomical inaccuracies aside, wow that sounds awesome.) “I mean, you know,” Newt says. “You’re kinda you. No offense.”
Hermann takes offense. “I am human,” he says. “I am allowed to masturbate, Newton, and I was merely attempting to educate other customers about the—product—with my thoroughness.” He adds, awkwardly, “My review was voted very helpful, as you can see.”
“Okay,” Newt says with a grin. “I get it. Sorry.”
Hermann marches back over to his side of the lab with a scowl. Newt waits until he’s sure Hermann’s not watching him, and is too distracted by muttering angrily under his breath, to bookmark MathLover69’s page of reviews.
It turns out (as Newt revisits the page later that night, in the privacy of his bunk) Hermann buys and reviews a truly staggering amount of dildos and sex toys, and on top of that, has absolutely zero filter behind the wall of anonymity. It’s to the extent that some of his reviews read like goddamn sexts.
It took me three occasions to successfully work myself up to taking in the entire length…
My orgasm was so pleasurable I alarmed my colleague with the noise I made, who believed me to have injured myself…
The highest vibration setting is a bit of a disappointment…
These are excellent for double penetration…
It also turns out Hermann is a veritable sex fiend. Or at least a masturbation fiend. Judging by his reviews alone, Hermann’s purchased more than a dozen different toys in the past three years alone. That’s four a year. One every three months. That’s not even including buttplugs, which (according to other reviews) he sometimes just wears into the lab (“work”) for the hell of it, which Newt isn’t even going to think about right now. How the hell has Hermann kept this much of his life under wraps? When the hell does he have time to jerk off as much as he apparently does? No wonder they never seem to have any fucking funding; all of Hermann’s paychecks are funneled directly into his—well.
Newt recalls the faux-injury incident Hermann mentioned in a comment with mild embarrassment. No wonder Hermann had been so weird and flushed when he opened his door, and made excuses to say bye to him so quickly—Newt just caught him (oh, boy) immediately following the best orgasm of his life. Well, mild embarrassment, and a little more than mild arousal. What Newt would’ve given to have been there five minutes earlier, to watch Hermann in the act of the best orgasm of his life, to maybe even be the one to cause it…
What Newt would give to use Hermann’s fancy-shmancy vibrator on him, or literally anything from his giant masturbatory arsenal. Or even just watch him use it on himself. Hermann’s just so damned buttoned-up and uptight—it’s all about the contradictions. Juxtapositions. Newt unzips his jeans and sticks his hand down his boxers. “Stupid Hermann,” he moans, as he begins to bring himself off to the image of Hermann with that stupid kaiju dildo down his throat and that stupid jaeger vibe up his ass. Negotiator of peace between the two? Stupid joke, stupid Hermann. Or maybe he’s picturing Hermann showing up to the lab, all plugged up and loose from using a different vibe on himself that morning. Or maybe Hermann pushing two dildos into himself at once. How the hell can he even manage that? Ass his size— “Oh, goddamn it,” Newt moans again, and comes all over his hand.
Whatever. It’s not like Hermann’s ever going to find out about this.
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HEY HEY HEY ! hows your Sunday going ?? Could I please have a lev nsfw story coz I’m thirsty for lev 🥺 and also coz boi is underrated 🥰 THANKIEWWW
ASK (thrice?) AND YE SHALL RECEIVE. So this one came to me while I was taking a shower and apparently I am in THE MOOD for our lil Russian bb—I also want to include that any other requests in my inbox that are asking for a Lev nsfw drabble, hc, oneshot will be directed to this post. Also Lev is 20 in this, Alissa is 24. Ahem, without further ado—
Warnings: uh Lev this is not how you comfort people who just got cheated on but, comfort sex, Lev’s first time, also awkward theme of having a crush on someone younger??
Edit: when you write nsfw while at work. the irony is not lost on me
Haiba Lev thought that one day, maybe, his stupid cliched crush on his older sister’s best friend would subside. A challenge in and of itself, considering you had been spending weekends at the Haiba home every single week for four years.
Four agonizing years of seeing you parade around in spandex shorts that clung to your body like a second skin with a baggy cutoff that dipped low enough to offer your bare hips.
Four years of listening to the way you pined after different crushes you had throughout the years.
Two years of hearing you gush over the unsavory, filthy things your boyfriend did to you through thin shared walls between his and Alisa’s room.
Four years of all of this bullshit, and Lev had finally had enough. He had to get out of this house before he either jacked off, again, from imagining he was the one balls deep in your cunt rather than your stupid boyfriend or he burst into Alisa’s room and just started reaming you in front of her.
Yeah, he needed to leave.
Yet, when Lev slips by his sister’s room, he doesn’t hear any gushing or squeals or even laughter coming from beyond the closed door. He hears crying, accompanied by soft shushing that he recognizes is Alisa’s voice.
“—you’re so much better than this and you deserve better than him.”
Oh?
Without even thinking, Lev knocks gently on the door, calling out your name. “Everything okay?” A dumb question, perhaps, but he can’t shake the feeling, the calling, that he needed to do something. To his surprise, Alisa opens the door, though not quite enough to allow him to see you in your obviously distressed state.
“Actually, can I ask you for a favor, Lyovochka?” Alisa peeks her head out the door, bright green eyes wandering as if to scope out the surroundings even though she knew nobody else was home. Like she was sworn to top secret information that nobody else was allowed to hear except for the man in question. Lev gives a half-hearted shrug, goading his sister to continue. “I just wanna run to the store really quick and grab some sweets for [name]. But she isn’t really in a state to come with me and I don’t want to leave her alone right now. Can you just watch over her?”
It felt wrong for Lev to admit this, even if only to himself, but he felt like after all the years he wasted praying to a god he didn’t believe in, his prayers had finally been answered. “Yeah, yeah I can do that.” Alisa opens the door a little more, revealing the disheveled mess that was you. If he were to sum it up in one word, it would be Yikes.
But even with your face red and your nose running and your eyes nearly swollen shut as you sobbed, you never looked more beautiful to Lev. So raw, so you. So damn beautiful. “I’m just gonna go grab some ice cream, [name]. Lev’s gonna be here for you until I get back, okay?” You have a nod, simultaneously choking down the bile that rose in your throat as your mind flurries with vivid, foul images of finding your boyfriend plowing a woman you’d never seen before in your bed. Thinking it’s smarter to leave sooner so that she can return quickly, Alissa flits off, leaving you in her little brother’s care.
It’s a little embarrassing, having your best friend’s little brother stand in the door jamb while every ounce of liquid is propelled through your eyeballs in waterfalls but you can’t stop. “I-I’m sorry, Lev, I should—“
“You don’t have to do anything.” The boy’s voice is lighthearted as he takes cautious, weary steps towards your crumpled frame on the floor. You say nothing as he approaches, lanky arms open slightly as he crouched before you. “C’mon. I don’t think sitting here is going to fix anything.” Lev gingerly places a hand on your bare feet, capturing your attention until he’s once again holding his arms open, gesturing at himself. Sniffling up the snot that had dribbled down your face, you limply wrap your arms around his neck. The Nekoma alumni wraps his own snake-like arms around your waist before hoisting you up to carry you. Feeling the sudden shift in gravity, you instinctively wrap your legs around his midsection so he didn’t drop you.
Were this under any other circumstance, Lev would be over the moon over the close contact. Shit, he was, but that was inappropriate. He was supposed to keeping you company not indulging in his wet daydreams of holding you just like this while he—
Bad Lev.
The middle blocker adjusts his grip around you to better support you, one of his arms dipping lower to press your hips closer to his torso while the other crosses over your shoulder blades and he swears he’s not thinking lewd thoughts in the moment. No, not in the slightest. Instead he convinces himself that he’s focused on the way you’re sniffling in his ear while your tear-soaked face is buried in his shoulder. He swears he’s not thinking about the way your lips are moving, albeit in sobs, along the thin fabric of his shirt. He swears.
Lev successfully manages to bring you to the living room sofa, ready to plop you down so he can try to comfort you with some cute, heartfelt movie. Yet your hands refuse to unwind from his neck, despite his arms already having fallen to his sides. “P-please...just hold me right now?”
There had to be a god or an angel or whatever higher power looking out for Lev.
As opposed to plopping you down on the couch, the younger Haiba plants himself beside you before fixing it so that you’re comfortably across his lap while his arms encircled your waist and resting his chin on the crown of your head. The soothing gesture only makes you sob more. “Do you want to talk about it?” Lev asks you, his chin applying and retracting pressure on your skull as he talks.
“There isn’t really anything to talk about,” despite you responding slowly after a brief pause, your voice is painted with bitter distaste, “I-I came home from work a-and he was, um, in our bed with someone.” You’re trying hard, so hard to hold it together but with every syllable is paired with a flicker of memory that causes your voice to break and crack along your lips. “I just...left. I couldn’t stay there, I-I didn’t even wait for an explanation—“
“[name], you don’t need an explanation and he should never have put himself or you in that position to begin with!”
“W-what?” Lev pulls himself away from his natural slouch, turning you slightly so that your hands find purchase on his broad shoulders and you can see the way his emerald eyes are on fire, despite the seemingly contradictory groan that rumbles in his chest.
“[name], you’re stunning, you’re funny, brilliant and you didn’t lose anything in this but some douche that can’t see how fucking amazing you are.” Maybe it’s Lev’s words or maybe it’s the way the pads of his fingers are now all but clutching at your skin as he cradles the sides of your face or maybe it’s the way his thumb is running over the trail of damp tears caressing your cheek bones. Whatever it is, your lips are pulled apart slightly as rapid, shallow breaths are leaving your lungs as your heartbeat thrums in your eardrums and swallowing this moment whole as Lev’s lip slat over your own.
The fire that was once swirling in his green eyes moves as he closes them, separating into the kiss to bring you the warmth you craved and desire into his belly because Lev wanted more. He wants more and he can’t stop himself from worming his tongue past your slightly parted lips and into your mouth. The muscle greets yours, shyly waiting for some form of reciprocation before proceeding. Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling him closer and forcing more of him into you because god, the only things you wanted right now was heat and comfort and affection and someone to show you that you were worth loving.
One of Lev’s hands that was resting on your cheek maneuvers away to once again snake around your waist as it had when he was carrying you. This time, his limb acted as a guide to grind your hips along his half-hard erection through his tightening jeans. Despite rushed and needy actions below, his kiss is the perfect juxtaposition. Tender and tentative, now that you’ve silently given him permission, Lev slides his tongue along the crevices of your mouth with your own petting the underside in encouragement. Meanwhile, your arms unwind themselves around his neck, allowing your fingers to trace down the front of his shirt until you’re met with the button of his jeans.
A surprised grunt leaves his chest while his lips leave yours, causing you to pull away while Lev watches your nimble fingers deftly working off the button and zipper off of his pants. “W-wait...” he tries to fight off the trepidation in his voice, grabbing onto one of your wrists to prevent you from ripping off his bottoms. He’s trying to not fuel every dirty fantasy he’d ever experience because this is real life. This is real life and for the past four years, Lev has had feelings for you and he can’t just bring himself to take advantage of your vulnerability. “We don’t have to do this.”
“What?” You nearly snarl. He waits until after he’s soaked you through your spandex to let his guilty conscious get in the way?!
“I love you, [name],” the trepidation is replaced by a swirl of confidence. If Lev is about to dick down the woman of his dreams, he was going to make sure you knew all the pain and suffering he endured and all the love behind his motivations. “And I’m not going to allow myself to just be a rebound—“
“You were too young,” you interrupt. Your hands finally stopped fidgeting with his pants and trying to get them off; instead, you mimic the same action he had done earlier with cupping his cheeks. “Plus, having a crush? On my best friend’s little brother? Talk about a cliche.” To your surprise, Lev lets out a laugh before he allows you to pull him closer, initiating the kiss this time around. Contrary to his own fire moments ago, your kiss is tender and delicate and full of tremors that reassure him he isn’t the only one feeling this. But your hips, on the other hand, are grinding even harder into him, his cock standing at full attention from under his boxers, the fabric pushing at the ajar zipper. “Touch me.” You breathe out as you pull away, raising your lower half so that he can rip off the damp spandex shorts you were wearing.
Your words give him the green light that Lev has been waiting to hear for years and he would be damned if he wasted anymore time. Plus, Alisa could be home at any minute and he’d really really rather be balls deep in you before she returned. The second your shorts and underwear are off, Lev licks the pads of two of his fingers, bringing them to your already swollen clit. Though apparently, his own assistance was unnecessary because you were fucking soaked. All from a fucking kiss. But, still wanting to prepare you and abide by your wishes, Lev unceremoniously plunges his middle finger into your core, forcing a scream to tear from your throat.
This was so much better than you imagined.
His massive finger was quickly accompanied by one more, stretching your walls beyond what you were used to by yourself or even your now ex. “Holy shit,” you seethed through clenched teeth as he moves them in urgent successions. From what you can tell, pleasure isn’t the first thing on his mind—just feeling you is enough for him. And right now, it’s enough for you too.
You claw at his bottoms, pulling down his jeans and boxers low enough to allow his mast to stand at full attention. The look on his face speaks volumes, along with the peridot glow swirling with the natural lust in his emerald orbs—he wants this to last. Lev doesn’t want to rush even though he had just told himself he didn’t want to waste time, doesn’t want this to only be a brief flicker of in the movie reel of his life. He wants permanence. “Maybe not when Alisa is on her way,” you murmur gingerly, brushing your hand under his jaw to pull him into a sweet kiss before slowly sinking down on his length.
Slowly, because had you matched the urgency you had while half undressing him, his girth would have caused tearing. “Fuck,” Lev hisses, instantly feeling your walls clench around him like velvet encasing glass. This was so much better than he ever dreamed of.
His large hands dig into your bare hips, the hem of your cutoff shirt draping over his knuckles as he cautiously guides your body closer and closer until his cock is fully sheathed inside. “Holy fucking shit.” Never in your life had you felt so full and you weren’t sure if it was the fact you were fucking Lev at all or the fact that his dick was pressing on your diagphram responsible for the moans leaving your lips.
A small laugh bubbles from his chest, either from being impressed or the fact that he was feeling the same, you were unsure. “You alright?” Lev is breathless, the question laced with subtle attempts to catch his breath as he brushes stray locks from your forehead. When you give a nod, he presses a chaste kiss to your swollen lip, swallowing the shriek that came from him starting to move you.
Surely, you had died and entered the ninth layer of hell because there was no way on earth riding your best friend’s little brother’s dick was supposed to be this fucking good.
Cautiously, with Lev’s guidance, your hips rise and fall, each gentle rock aiding in stretching you further and further. Lev lets out a groan, throwing his head back as you inadvertedly clenched tighter from the veins of his dick greeting your walls. As an opportunist, you took the chance to latch your lips along his exposed neck, allowing wanton need to flow through your teeth as you nibble at the flesh. The bruises that would surely come would only be the public reminder of the salacious act between the two of you.
Lev can feel his balls tighten because goddamn you weren’t letting up on the clenching. Were you even clenching? He was unsure at this point—maybe it was just you being naturally tight. All he was certain of is that he didn’t want the feeling of your pelvis smacking against his to ever end. And he wants to say something, anything, about how good your tight little pussy is squeezing him so tight and his badly he wants to cum inside you and how he waited to lose his virginity to you, but Lev just can’t make anything other than breathless moans leave his lungs.
Satisfied with the hefty, dark purple bruise forming on his neck, you ghosted you’re lips over Lev’s in the most intimate way you could muster, with the two of you sharing a single breath that spoke volumes over any words you could have shared. You’d waited for Lev, and you needed him to know that. Waited for the day that the two of you were able to overcome the awkward boundaries of meeting mutually through Alisa, waited for the day you could apologize for not waiting for him to come of age. Waited for the moment in which you could forgive yourself for dating some shit head when you could have been with the man you’d been pining after since he graduated high school.
But he knows this—Lev can feel it in the way you’re moving your hips on your own, taking his full girth and screaming his name. He can feel it in the way the muscles of your cunt are spasming around his cock as your end breaks through the surface and the way your head is falling to rest on his collarbone because you just can’t take the way his length is rubbing you in all the right ways. “‘M cumming,” you mumble out along his skin.
“Couldn’t wait for me anymore, huh?” He lets out a broken laugh before thrusting up into you, forcing the rest of your orgasm through. Your wails, the way your hips are meeting all of his thrusts, the way the bulbous head of his cock meets your womb—he can’t fucking stand it anymore. He’s so overwhelmed with everything, being swallowed by lust, that Lev cradles you’re jaw once more to pull you in for one more kiss in which there’s no more love. There’s no love, no lust, just you. “Where do you want it?” He asks, green eyes strangled with need because he was right fucking there.
“Cum inside me,” you whine. The words end all conscious thoughts as Lev grips your waist brutally, holding you in place while he fucks into you punishingly from below until you can feel his cock twitching as he paints the walls of your pussy with his emission. His pace slows gradually until he’s just barely moving, yet he refused to withdraw. He didn’t want to leave your warmth quite yet, especially not with the way your chest is heaving against his and the way you’re clutching at his bare arms.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for the last four years.” He lets out a laugh, his cock softening along with his eyes while he looks at you lovingly.
“Me too,” you admit quietly, forgetting how events had even lead to this in first place. It didn’t matter anymore. The two of you stayed that way, flaccid dick remaining inside your exhausted cavern until Alisa walked in through the door calling both of your names.
Oh fuck.
#samwrights#haikyuu!! imagine#haikyuu imagine#haikyuu scenario#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu!!#haikyu!!#haiba lev#lev headcanons#lev x reader#lev haikyuu#lev haiba#nsfhq
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I Just Want to Kill You (Except That I Don’t)
Fandom: The Old Guard
Rating: T (Mentions of blood, war, religious themes, and kissing) (also there are approximately (2) uses of the word f*ck)
Word Count: 2k
A/N: Ever wonder about what it was like for the other crusaders watching Joe and Nicky kill each other over and over? Well I did, and this is what happened! This story is from Ferrando’s perspective, watching as his fellow soldier figures out that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t hate the enemy (or more specifically, one singular enemy) all that much.
Warning: I am not religious, but there are mentions of Christianity and the Crusades, along with potentially racist connotations when referring to Yusuf and his people. This story is not historically accurate, and any mistakes that I make are my own. This story does not personally reflect my own views on Christians or Muslims.
Tags: @theocatkov, @cosmicbug379, @marydjarin @perropascal
Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my works!
Please consider liking and reblogging, I love the feedback!
It had been three weeks since the Saracen had killed Nicolo, and by the grace of God, Nicolo had been brought back. Their commander had declared Nicolo’s resurrection a holy sign, that their cause was just in the eyes of God, and that their siege of Jerusalem was the will of God.
Ferrando had believed their commander, he’d had no reason not to, until the very next day when Nicolo faced off against the same Saracen as before. Ferrando thought that Nicolo had killed the Muslim soldier, just as the soldier had killed Nicolo, but now, here they were, fighting ferociously.
Ferrando watched, stunned, as Nicolo and the Muslim struck each other at the same time, burying their weapons in the other’s chest, falling on the battlefield once more. Surely Nicolo was only entitled to one miracle, and now that he had struck down his foe for good, God would be gracious, and Nicolo would be allowed admittance into Heaven.
But, as Ferrando fought his way over to his fallen brethren, he was shocked to see Nicolo’s eyes open once more, a shuddering breath escaping his fellow soldier as Nicolo grasped the Saracen’s scimitar, removing it from his chest in one swift movement. On the ground, across from Nicolo, the Saracen jerked awake as well, removing Nicolo’s sword from where it was buried in between his ribs.
Both men sat up, and Ferrando watched as their wounds closed, miraculously. The Saracen stood up, and Ferrando raised his sword, ready to defend his shield-brother, but the Saracen merely held out Nicolo’s sword, hilt first.
Nicolo stood slowly, eyeing the Saracen warily. He slowly held out the scimitar, trading weapons with the enemy. An understanding seemed to pass between the two men, and the Saracen turned away, heading back to his campsite. Nicolo watched him walk away, a funny look on his face. Ferrando tried to get Nicolo’s attention, but Nicolo just waved him off, heading back towards their camps.
And so the pattern continued day after day. Every morning, Nicolo would charge onto the battlefield, but he always seemed… distracted. That is, until he managed to cross paths with the Saracen. Ferrando didn’t always see them fight, but he heard stories from the other men. Over the course of three weeks, Nicolo and the Saracen had killed each other in practically every single way imaginable.
At some point, Nicolo learned the Saracen’s name was Yusuf–when on earth did Nicolo find the time to lean the Muslim’s name in the middle of fighting to the death–and there wasn’t a night that went by that Ferrando didn’t hear at least one complaint about their enemy, and more specifically, Yusuf.
“Why must God torment me so?” Nicolo lamented one night, sitting beside Ferrando in one of the tents. “How can it be God’s will that I strike Yusuf down when he rises the same as I each and every time?” Nicolo sounds so despondent, and Ferrando might feel bad for him if this wasn’t the third or fourth time he’d heard this complaint.
“Surely this is the work of the Devil, tempting me so that I may stray from my holy path,” Nicolo mutters, and Ferrando looks over at his shield-brother in shock. But Nicolo doesn’t seem to realize that he’d spoken aloud, and Ferrando is left to wonder just what it is that Nicolo meant.
Ferrando gets his answer two days later, when he once again witnesses Nicolo facing off against Yusuf. The men are evenly matched, and Ferrando notices much of the fighting seems to cease near them, as though the others, Christians and Muslims alike, are waiting to see the outcome of this fight.
The battle seems to last for ages, the clash of metal ringing out, the dusty ground stirring up around the two men, creating the illusion of two otherworldly beings. Finally, Yusuf managed to gain the upper hand, trapping Nicolo between his chest and his blade. None of the other soldiers move, they all remember Nicolo’s anger when a fellow warrior of Christ had struck Yusuf down. Nicolo had raged at poor Benetto, nearly causing the young soldier to faint from fright, yelling about how only he was allowed to kill Yusuf. Ferrando had raised an eyebrow at that, but Nicolo had been too angry to realize what he’d said. Ferrando watched as Nicolo gathered Yusuf’s body into his arms, and to his surprise, he saw fear on Nicolo’s face.
Perhaps their divine blessings only kept them alive if they were the reasons behind each other’s demise. But surely Nicolo should be pleased? His enemy might finally perish? But as Ferrando watched Nicolo press his hand against Yusuf’s wound, pleading with the Saracen to come back, he wondered if perhaps there was something more than just anger tying the two men together.
Now, with Yusuf pressing his blade against Nicolo’s throat, the only thing the Nicolo could do was press back against Yusuf’s chest. Ferrando watched with no small amount of interest as Yusuf leaned forward, his lips a hair’s breadth from Nicolo’s ear, whispering something. Ferrando can’t hear his words over the sounds of the battle raging around them, but he watches as a blush spreads across Nicolo’s cheeks, right before the scimitar slices across his throat, spilling his blood on the dirt. Nicolo manages to stab Yusuf in the side as he goes down, taking Yusuf down with him. Somehow, Ferrando doesn’t think that blush is the result of threats, and he can’t help but wonder what Yusuf said to Nicolo to make his cheeks turn as pink as they did.
***
Ever since that day, Ferrando noticed that Yusuf was getting bolder and bolder in his attacks. He seemed to find ways to ensure that he was in contact with Nicolo in some way each time they fought: pining Nicolo to the ground, against a wall, against his chest. Yusuf seemed to prefer grappling with Nicolo instead of fighting with swords and scimitars. Every time, without fail, Nicolo would flush, which delighted Yusuf to no end. He seemed to enjoy making Nicolo feel embarrassed, delighting in every blush, stutter, and gasp that he could wring from him.
And every single night, Ferrando had to listen to Nicolo complain, moan and whine about Yusuf. He listened, with the patience of a saint, while Nicolo begged for someone to tell him why Yusuf tempted him so. Nicolo was not normally a very talkative man, but in his frustration with Yusuf, he’d spoken more in a month than Ferrando had heard him speak in a year.
By the thirtieth time the two men have killed each other, most of the soldiers in their regiment and the enemy’s camp know of the two opposing soldiers, touched by God, fighting to the death every day. Ferrando is quite proud of the fact that he was the first to notice when their little dance stopped being so angry and hateful and something… other.
He’d run out of fingers if he had to count on his hands the number of times other soldiers had come up to him to ask if the Saracen was Nicolo’s bedmate. Their tension on the battlefield had transformed, and all the men could see it. Except for Nicolo. He refused to. Ferrando would hear Yusuf speaking in Arabic to Nicolo while they fought, and despite not understanding the words, the tone in which Yusuf spoke made Nicolo flush a brilliant red. Nicolo was quite vicious in his kills whenever Yusuf would taunt him, although Ferrando thought it might be less out of hatred and more embarrassment. Nicolo was a priest, after all, at his core. Not a soldier.
But even priests can be tempted, and according to Nicolo’s rants when he thought the others were asleep, Yusuf was the most tempting of all. Cosimo and Giacomo had started a betting pool on when Nicolo would finally snap, and either outright rejecting the Saracen or finally fucking him. Ferrando really should shut it down before it came to the attention of their commander, but he couldn��t bring himself to. There was so little entertainment in the camps, let the men have their fun.
***
Two months from the day that Nicolo and Yusuf rose from the dead for the first time, everything changed. Ferrando wasn’t entirely sure why things changed, today of all days, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. It had started out normally, just like every other day on the battlefield. The two armies clashed, men fighting and dying like they had every day for the past two months. Once more, Nicolo and Yusuf met on the battlefield, to fight to the death, like they had every day for the past few months. Yusuf had gained the upper hand for the past week or so, and Ferrando knew that it angered Nicolo to no end.
Today, Nicolo gained the upper hand–and fought ferociously to maintain it–rather quickly in the fight, and he managed to force Yusuf to his knees, the tip of his sword pressing into the hollow of Yusuf’s throat. Ferrando was still shocked at the fact that Yusuf never once looked afraid, before any of his many, many deaths at the hands of Nicolo. Somehow, the Muslim managed to look smug, even when on his knees, with a deadly blade at his throat.
Nicolo was red in the face, panting from exertion, his white-knuckled grip on the longsword betraying his nervousness. Both men were dirty, covered in dust and blood from wounds already healed. Ferrando could hear as Nicolo began to yell at the man before him, the one who’d been tormenting Nicolo for two months. He couldn’t hear everything Nicolo was yelling, but he was yelling in Genoese, so Ferrando doubted Yusuf even understood him. Yusuf had shown no indication that he understood Genoese, so Ferrando wasn’t sure how effective Nicolo’s scolding was going to be.
“Why? Why must you torment me? Surely you’ve been sent by the devil, for there can be no explanation for why God would choose you to rise by my side!” Nicolo was frantic, begging for answers, answers no one had, least of all Yusuf.
Ferrando watched as Yusuf looked up at Nicolo, and for a moment, Ferrando thought he was going to speak. Instead, he winked.
Nicolo stared at Yusuf, a blush spreading across his cheeks as the Muslim stared up at him, smirking lasciviously. Ferrando thought Nicolo was about to run him through, but to his and the other soldiers’ shock, Nicolo dropped his sword, yanking Yusuf up by his tunic and pulling him into a kiss.
Ferrando felt his jaw drop, but he made no move to close it. He never could have imagined that Nicolo would actually act on his feelings, but the evidence to the contrary was clear in front of him.
Nicolo pulled back suddenly, his grip on Yusuf’s tunic weakening. He blinked, looking stunned, as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. Yusuf slowly opened his eyes, a dazed look on his face. Nicolo started to apologize, stuttering and stammering over his words, but Yusuf was having none of it. Gripping his cheeks, Yusuf smashed his lips against Nicolo’s.
Ferrando and the other soldiers watched as Yusuf kissed Nicolo more passionately than any of them had ever seen, let alone experienced. Many of the men looked away, cheeks red. Even their enemies had stopped fighting, choosing instead to stare at the two men kissing like they would die if their lips stopped touching.
Nicolo buried his hands in Yusuf’s hair, holding the other man as close as possible, and Yusuf’s arm wound around Nicolo’s waist, clutching tightly at the fabric of Nicolo’s shirt. It was as though they’d forgotten they were supposed to be fighting.
Ferrando was startled when he felt a tapping on his shoulder. There stood Cosimo, a smug grin on his face. “You should’ve joined the betting pool, I just won twenty bezants!” Ferrando smacked him across the back of the head, but that didn’t deter the grinning soldier.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. I don’t want to be here when the armor starts coming off.”
#The Old Guard#origin story#the beginning#of nicky x joe#nicolo and yusuf#kaysanova#crusades#historical inaccuracies#Im sorry#canon queer relationship#the beginning of the immortal husbands#the life of a background crusader#ferrando is DONE#joe x nicky#yusuf x nicolo#first kiss#enemies to lovers#fics
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Survey #427
“don’t pray for me when you’re the one enslaved”
Your ex taps you on the shoulder and says, “I still love you.” You say? I wouldn't say anything, I'm pretty sure I'd just break down.
Do you play video games? Not really anymore. :/ I probably would, though, if I had the appropriate consoles for games I want. You can only replay PS2 games but so many times before you're tired of them.
Do you spend a lot of time with family? No, honestly.
Is your house more than two stories tall? It only has one floor.
Have you ever hit your significant other? Has he/she ever hit you? I'm not in a relationship, but I have most certainly never hit an s/o, and they've never hit me. I wouldn't tolerate that shit.
What makes you an attractive person? (Talk about your personality too!) I'm not.
What color is your hairbrush/comb? White.
What snacks do you have available in your household atm? Hm. Just some fruity grain and oats bars, as well as cashew ones. We try to keep sweets out of the house.
Has anyone recently told you that they like you, or find you attractive? No.
Are you attracted to the last person you Facebook messaged? Holy fuck yes, she's drop-dead gorgeous.
Do you care about anyone that doesn’t care about you? Ha, I'm sure.
Was your last Facebook friend requests from a male or female? Some random middle-aged man, like who are you sir.
Which one of your relatives is most likely to embarrass you? My dad. He can be so rude to people sometimes.
When was the last time you ate a bar of chocolate? Not sure. It's been quite a while.
Do you play any games on Facebook? No.
What would you like to get a degree in? It'd be nice to get a degree in Arts, but yeah... I'm never going back to school.
Do you wake up a lot in the middle of the night? Pretty much every night.
Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? Play a video game.
Do you usually get popcorn or soda at the movie theater? Almost without fail. You've got to, it's part of the experience.
What genre of films do you like the best? Horror.
How many bank accounts do you have? None, actually.
Have you ever had the flu? No, thankfully.
What is your goal for the next few months? To start getting in shape/losing weight. I seriously hope this gym routine works out.
Have you ever had some kind of sleep-disorder? How did it affect your life? I have seveeeere sleep apnea. It's shocking, I never would've guessed it, though, so the diagnosis (I had a sleep study, so yes, it's legit) was an extreme surprise. I don't snore at all, nor do I like pass out in the middle of something, but I stop breathing A LOT. For a year or two (no, that is not an exaggeration), it caused consistent, horrible, and violent nightmares/terrors. It made sleep frightening to me, and I was never getting a truly restful sleep. Now, I have an APAP mask (like a less extreme version of a CPAP mask) that helps me greatly. I only very rarely am surprised by a more subtle nightmare now.
Have you ever had food poisoning before? Describe the experience. No, thankfully.
What are two things that you have no problem paying full price for? Quality tattoos, for one. And maybe uhhh... idk. We're the kind of family that buys off-brand foods and drinks all the time because it's cheaper, so I can't say that. Maybe health care? Like I wouldn't want service from a sketchy dentist or something.
Funny, charming, cute, romantic, smart - choose only 2 for the opposite sex. Charming and romantic.
Have you ever let somebody use you? Why did you do it? No.
You can go back in time & change something in your mom’s past - what is it? That's hard for me to say. She doesn't seem to like talking about her past very much, because I know it's turbulent with her mother. I would say her being disowned, but I don't know how that *actually* affected her. Maybe it was for the better she wasn't under her mom's authority anymore.
Do you know anybody who is around the exact same size as you? Who? I guess my mom, but she's actually smaller than me now. She's lost a lot of weight and is still going at it.
Ever been to a haunted house? How scared were you? Not a house, but rather hay rides and those places you just walk through and experience different stuff. They don't scare me at all; I love 'em.
Been on any websites today you wouldn’t want your parents to see? No.
Which is worse: dusting or mopping? Ugh, mopping. I don't mind dusting.
Would you marry somebody who was intensely religious? No.
Did you pull a senior prank? No. That shit is so dumb.
Did you graduate? High school, yes.
Have you ever been unfaithful in a serious relationship? No, and I never would.
What was the last song you listened to? I'm listening to Lauren Babic and Halocene's cover of "Bleed It Out" by Linkin Park right now. It's great.
Are you one of those lucky people with 20/20 vision? Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell no.
Is fashion one of your interests? No.
Do you think you’ll eventually find that special someone? Hell if I know.
Do you care what people think? Way, way more than I should.
Is acting something you enjoy? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. I feel so stupid.
What was the last thing you broke/sprained? I tore a ligament badly in my foot maybe a year and a half ago. I was SO sure it was broken. My mom had to help me walk everywhere, and even when she did, I'd be whimpering and seething.
Have you ever fought with a friend because of their boyfriend/girlfriend? Because of yours? No.
Has a stranger ever yelled at you for your language? No.
Whose house, other than yours and your families', are you most comfortable at? If we're excluding all family, I suppose Sara's?
Has any of your friends’ family ever yelled at you? Probably at some point as a kid.
Did you ever play a sport as a little kid? Did you enjoy it? I played a lot. The only two I really didn't like were soccer and cheerleading.
Did you ever watch the show Full House? Hell yeah, I loved it as a kid.
Is there a celebrity you are just DETERMINED to marry? Ha ha y'all know I joke about it, but no, not legitimately. It's not like I know him personally at all, and I'm not chasing him to California either. Just let me dream still lmao.
Have you ever burned someone’s picture? No, but I've actually heard it's truly therapeutic and not just for dramatic effect, so I wouldn't be opposed to doing so if you handed me a picture of him and a lighter.
What’s the longest hike you’ve ever been on? I've never hiked before.
Would you ever get a lip tattoo? Uh, no.
Who is the first person of the opposite sex that pops into your head? Jason.
Do your parents smoke cigarettes? My dad smokes like a chimney and is 100% going to end up with cancer because of it. You should hear his cough. Mom smoked for a very, very brief period before I was born.
What does one of your T-shirts have written on it? "Equal in our bones" is on my favorite shirt.
Name a pet you definitely wouldn’t want. Certain inverts people are wild enough to get, like giant African centipedes in particular.
Would you prefer your partner smaller or taller? Can't say I care.
do you enjoy going through old pictures? Sometimes. Other times, it's too painful. It also depends on the era of the pictures.
Do you believe people when they say they don’t judge people? Ha, no. We all have natural first impressions and things like that that just... happen.
What did you love the most about the town you grew up in? Nothing, really... besides just childhood memories that inevitably came. My hometown was dangerous.
What’s a movie that you laughed the hardest during? I'm not sure.
What’s a movie you cried the hardest during? I want to say Old Yeller, but I'm not sure.
What’s your favorite restaurant? Olive Garden and The Cheesecake Factory.
Is there a dessert you don’t like? Yeah; I don't like pie, strawberry shortcake, and I know there're others.
Favorite album? Ozzy's Black Rain. It was my introduction to metal, so there's nostalgic value there, but I also just LOVE every single song.
What’s a book that you read because everyone else was reading it? None. I don't read books for that reason.
Underwater or outer space? Both kinda frighten me to a degree, but I find outer space to be way cooler. So many colorrrrrrs.
Dogs or cats? Cats.
Kittens or puppies? Ugh, both are so cute, but I gotta hand it to kittens.
Bird watching or whale watching? Whale watching would blow me away. Whales are such magnificent, awe-inspiring animals.
What is your spirit animal? Probably a deer. Skittish, shy, and quiet.
What was your best subject in school? English.
What was your worst subject in school? Math.
What is one thing you wish you knew in high school? You and Jason aren't going to last, hunty.
Who is your fashion icon? I don't have one. I wear what I want/what's comfortable.
Diamonds or pearls? I think diamonds are a lot prettier.
What color dress did you wear to prom? First one was maroon, last one was black.
What’s your favorite plot-twist? Silent Hill: Shattered Memories. My jaw actually dropped.
Honestly, are you jealous of someone right now? Yes.
Honestly, what’s the worst thing you’ve done when you were mad? Said things I shouldn't.
Honestly, ever made anyone cry when you were mad? Yes.
Honestly, when was the last time you REALLY cried your heart out? Two weeks ago or something like that.
Ever pop someone else’s pimple? OH MY GOD NO alskdfa;wekrwer;
Do you need to return anyone’s phone call? No.
Who are you closest to? My mom.
Have you ever had a bad concert experience? No.
Are you currently sad about anything? A number of things.
Have you had any form of exercise today? No, but tomorrow is day #2 at the gym!
Can you handle blood? Yeah, np.
Has any place hired you underage for a job? No.
Have you ever carried a concealed weapon? No sir=ee.
Are you currently searching for a job? Not anymore, at least not actively. I was going to after TMS, but I'm just... still not ready. Right now, I'm focusing on the gym and getting healthy again, but if the seemingly perfect job comes along, I'm not opposed to taking it up.
Does eating breakfast make you sick? No, I've got to have breakfast or else THEN I feel awful.
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Whitmore Guy comes clean
Whitmore Guy masterlist
word count: 4158
music: why are you here by mgk, halfway dead by steve aoki, global dan and travis barker
“I’m here”, he said after a pause. By this time she was already sat in her bed, in a defensive position, with her knees firmly in the mattress.
“Mal!”
He didn’t let her finish.
“Would you have preferred me to stay invisible, would that make you feel more comfortable?” he asked reasonably, reading her mind. “You know I’ve been here. Because I told you”.
“Bonnie did”, she yelled, “Bonnie did! What are you, Mal?”
Mal stepped out of the darkness without making noise, and it hit her finally. Finally. He’s not human. There’s no way in hell he’s mortal! The way he moves, the way he never looks tired, although he claims to barely ever sleep, the way he just manifests himself at places; she thought of the first time they met, back in the gatherings hall, and how he smelt sweet like chewing candy. And how she thought he might be a trickster. That would suit him well. The eyes were pitch black in the twilight of the room. Y/N didn’t move.
“That’s a bit harsh”, he said coldly. “What am I, really? You think I’m some kind of monster?”
He chuckled and gave his light attitude away.
“How did you get inside my house? You never broke the lock”, she said quietly.
“I picked it. It’s easy. Do you want me to show you?”
She got out of bed puffing. She wasn’t afraid of him, but he creeped her out. If that makes sense? She felt like she could take him out, no matter what, and not because she could arguably throw a punch. But because she had certain power over him. Mal has always been nice to her, not in a friendly way, but in a ‘you’re special’ way. As opposed to everybody else. With other people, he was superficial, secretly arrogant and dismissive, but he treated her differently which, unfortunately for him, gave her the advantage. That’s what she thought.
Mal smiled slowly as she approached him, circling the bed. He bit his lower lip, pretending to check her out.
“You never answer any of my questions. You never tell me the truth”.
“I never lie to you, either. You just gotta ask the right questions”.
Mal lifted his hand and looked at the invisible watch on his wrist.
“We have to go. Can you get dressed really quickly?”
She narrowed her eyes. Obviously, something’s up if he showed up in her house. And didn’t ‘stay invisible’. Clearly, she needs to call Damon ASAP and check on them. Her paranoia told her to. Yet, she was standing there, in comfortable darkness, allowing him to listen to her heartbeat, two steps away from him, and her head was filled with the memories of them making out on the couch after the dinner party. Between the dinner party and finding the bodies in the house next door. She wanted to kiss him again, wanted so very badly, but thankfully, she was a thinking creature. Hot take: the desires of the body are not stronger than the council of the brain. Mal wanted that, too. His face was lean, wolf-like in the shadows, and he watched her carefully, badly hidden threat behind his smile. His smile was always only lips-deep, like a sticker he put over his face, like a mask. Every time Y/N touched him, it fell, and she took in his deep, dark color, and she couldn’t get enough of it.
“You think I’m going anywhere with you, you’re severely mistaken”, she said.
“I thought you wanted to know the truth”, Mal said innocently, and tilted his head.
“Truth about what? There’s too many things messed up to know clearly what you mean”.
“What if I tell you they’re all connected? Your gape in the head, and Damon going on a killing spree, and…” he paused, puzzled, “uh… that…” he closed his eyes, ruining the mysterious allure. He was trying to recall a name again. “That dude… Ma… Mutt?”
“Mal, fucking hell”, she threw her hands up, “Matt, his name was Matt, and he was one of my best friends”.
Mal nodded, seeing that she wasn’t joking anymore. Y/N stepped away and went to the window to open the curtains and let some more light into the room.
“Why don’t you jump out of your pj’s and put something on, so that we can go? It won’t be too nice in the town for the next ten hours or so”.
She turned abruptly.
“What do you mean?”
Mal shrugged again.
“I will honestly strike you on the head if you don’t stop talking in riddles”.
Mal licked his lips, and she finally saw, as the street light fell on him, that his jaws were pressed together. His eyes were dark because he was pissed, even though he smiled, even though his voice was close to normal, the usual. There was a time bomb inside his head, and she could all but hear the ticking behind his eyes.
“Listen, I don’t have time to chat you up, okay?” he said, and it sounded like he was a stranger. Y/N’s instincts kicked in, and she grouped standing at the window, like a small animal. As Mal moved towards her, her brain made a crazy attempt to convince her crawling out of the window will be a good idea.
When he grabbed Y/N by the shoulder, she could feel the zip again, that happened occasionally. He always wore synthetic shirts, and she got quite used to it. She never even brought it up, and now suddenly, it was clear as day that she should have. There were no accidents with Mal. This weird itchy feeling when he touched her, meant something and he knew about it, too. She was startled for a second, then she tried to kick out, but his fingers wrapped around her forearm decisively.
“I gave you a chance to change, now you gotta ride all the way to Georgia in your sleeping shirt”.
She didn’t know how he managed to drag her down the stairs, but when she blinked, they were already standing at the driveway. Mal walked towards her car taking her keys out of his pocket.
“Get in, we’re going”.
“What have I gotten into”, she mumbled, approaching the car and opening the door slowly. “You’re too strong for a normal dude, you know that?”
Mal smiled shortly as if she complimented him.
“I’m not a normal dude though, am I?”
He started the car quickly and drove out into the street. Mal usually refused to get behind the wheel if Y/N was willing to drive. He even whined a little about having to drive when she got too drunk to do it. Now, he looked as if he’s been the most experienced driver. The wheel was calm and obedient under his hand, and it felt like betrayal, too. Like she didn’t know him at all. Y/N looked at him, the side of his face, the upturned nose and focused eyes, and thought that it wouldn’t surprise her if his whole personality was a lie, too.
“What’s happening with the town? Are the guys alright?”
“How am I supposed to know?” he frowned childishly, his eyebrows gathering together. “I just don’t want you to be there when it comes down, obviously. The FBI guys have returned, apparently, and they’re determined that Damon has killed everybody… which I fully support”.
“You know damn well he hasn’t killed anybody”, Y/N bumped her fist into his shoulder and he didn’t budge.
“How do you know? You’re so brainwashed by him”, Mal threw.
“That’s far from truth”, she muttered, checking the pockets of her pants. As he was dragging her out of the room, she was still holding her phone in her hand. Millennials, am I right?
“Where’s the damn phone”, she said to herself, frustrated. Mal drove out into the main street and sped up, clearly wanting to get out of the town soon. She put both her hands into her pockets and checked the seat.
“Where’s my phone, Mal?”
“I have it”, he tapped himself on the chest pocket of his jean jacket. Y/N blinked with one eye; it was more like a twitch.
“Give it back”.
She realized he had slipped his hand into her pants while they were walking down the stairs.
“To do what?”
“Give it back, you tricky bastard”, she leaned over and grabbed him by the hand free of the wheel.
“Whoa! Calm down, psycho”, Mal grinned and pushed her back gently. “What do you need it for? It’s the middle of the night, everybody’s asleep”.
“I need to call Elena to make sure she’s alright! Do they even know the FBI… whatever they are, are in town?”
“Of course. I learnt it from them”, Mal said shortly. They were now straight on the highway leading out of Mystic Falls. The town is that small. A couple of streets, weaving inside like spider guts, a park, a square, and that’s it. A little place to live, really. It closes your mind, clogs your imagination. One can easily go crazy here.
“I was at the Craze, then the blonde slow vamp, Carrie, runs in, and her eyes are like, this big, and she says the tol and the smol are back. And I’m like, so what? And she’s like, they’re onto Dean! And I’m like, good for them, you know? Carrie is all flustered. But he’s our friend, and he didn’t kill anybody… while he totally did”, Mal shrugged. Y/N closed her eyes, irritated at his intentional name mess. He has established his dominance enough times already. There’s no need to purposefully diminish them every time, to remind her he doesn’t feel too psyched about the gang.
“And I was all, hm, there might be confrontation, so how about I take you away, yeah? It’s their own problems, let them deal with the feds themselves”, his face lit up a little, “they’re big vampires now after all”.
“I’m involved in that as well”, Y/N hissed, “you know? One of the vampires, before they all died at Craze, refused to bite me, which is a nonsense for a young vampire”.
“Oh”, he frowned a little, “then it’s all the better to take a break, right?”
She hit the back of the seat hard, looking at the dark ribbon of the road lying ahead. Her bare feet were rubbing against each other. Mal started fidgeting with the audio system and actually had the audacity to take out her phone from his pocket to connect it to the player.
“Unblock it”, he said, and it sounded more like an order. She rolled her eyes and, as he handed the phone to her, tried to grab it away from the guy. His fingers were worse than ironlike clutch of death.
“Hey, don’t be funny. Listen, I don’t mean anything to happen to you, okay? I’m just taking precautions”.
There was the familiar rectangular dark shape which was the sign with the name of the town. As the music hit the car, Mal stretched his neck a little, tilting his head from side to side, and she felt a strong desire to make him open up. She just wanted him to trust her enough to tell all. To not play anymore. It’s not that she’ll run, because there’s something wrong with him. She just needs to know to own him completely. Maybe it was crazy, too early for commitment like that, but her flaring nostrils told her she’s cooked enough.
There were cars on both sides of the road, but she couldn’t make them out properly as her own car sped past them. She turned her head back and caught the glimpse of people starting to gather on the road behind them, as if they had been expecting her car to pass, to close the way. One car moved forward and stopped right in the middle, blocking the way out of Mystic Falls.
She looked at Mal, wishing to hell he glances back, and she got severely disappointed, because when he did, there wasn’t a shred of sympathy for her distress. Her gut feeling got much worse though. It looked like a trick now, less like him acting on impulse. Mal understood it, seemingly. He shrugged off his playfulness and was completely serious now.
“I lied to you once”, he said.
I’m not myself
I’m not myself when you’re around, no
Can’t be helped,
the song chanted. He spoke calmly, his head swaying a little as if his neck was a light balloon string.
“I did steal your chain. I wanted to have a part of you with me at all times. Take it”, he lifted his elbow and opened his chest pocket. “Don’t fucking touch your phone”.
Y/N felt her whole body tense, the freeze so deep her skull got stung for a second, like she all turned into a stone.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll break your arm”, he said.
She kept looking at his absent stare he was radiating onto the road. It’s like he wasn’t watching where he was driving at all, like he was inside somewhere. That’s a powerful stunt, demanding something from a person without even looking at them. She put out her hand out of curiosity and slid her fingers into his pocket. It was warm on the inside, the heat was coming from his body. Very normal human heat. Something stopped her, either the fear of pain, or the fear that this pain will be inflicted by Mal. Her fingers brushed over the lukewarm smooth screen of her phone, and she felt the pricky chain of her necklace. She pulled it out, and looked at it, mesmerized. Mal finally glanced at her.
“Was Martha Hopps ever your girlfriend?” she asked.
“No”, she shook his head, “I wouldn’t do you like that”.
Y/N looked back again and clutched her necklace in her fist. Her other hand crawled to the handle of the door. Mal was speeding no less than fifty miles on the highway. She pulled the handle and pushed the door with her shoulder, grouping and closing her eyes. The song was filling the interior of her car. It was called ‘halfway dead to me’ and now she thought, right before throwing herself on the road and potentially killing herself, that even the music they listened to together should have communicated some message she’s missed.
It happened very quickly, as the door flew open, and the wind brushed over her violently; the sound of the highway being eaten by the wheels of the car. The dark sky, a starless back dome above; she was almost out, in the air, when his hand grabbed her by her neck and pulled back into the car so hard she collided with Mal and hit her thigh. The door of the car closed by itself with a bash and the music blasted her head like a baseball bat. Y/N closed her eyes, pressing her jaws together to withstand the pain. When it let go, she moved herself in the seat and shook her head.
“You could’ve killed yourself!” he yelled, sincerely frustrated. The car swayed as he returned both hands to the wheel. She has never seen him scared before, and it baffled her. Mal gave her a wide-eyed stare. “What is happening inside your goofy head?!”
“You’re not human!” she cried in return.
“Duh!”
She punched his shoulder once again to see that he doesn’t mind the mild pain. He barely noticed.
“You’re a vampire”.
Mal sniffed with displeasure.
“You only pulled this to test me? What if I hadn’t caught you?!”
“But that’s… that doesn’t make any sense. You walk in the sun and you eat all the time, and… others didn’t smell you”, she was still panting from the jump. Her neck ached from the stiff clutch he performed on her. In fact, Mal grabbed her so hard it felt like he was about to tear her head off completely. She rubbed her throat and the back of her neck with both hands.
“And you entered my house, without an invitation”, she finished. Mal sighed, turning the music down a little. She was still very aware of the songs that were playing. They always listened to this one playlist, which she had no memories of compiling. The title, the combination of the songs, the cover was inexplicable to her. These six months were so frustrating even this screaming oddness felt more like it was meant to be. Now she realized it was the only playlist she ever heard Mal play. And the fact that it was titled ‘douche’…
“That’s because I’ve already been there before”, he said, nonchalantly. He didn’t need to say it, she already knew.
“Malivore is in Georgia, huh”, she said. Diving deep into the seat, she looked on the path they were traveling again. Finally realizing is so liberating it’s hard to describe. For a moment, it felt like the car was completely silent.
The whole attraction thing, Mal knowing ways to get to her, the music, the movies, the manners… the mutual trust which is virtually impossible among people like him… the nights and days she felt lost, when she felt like there was a piece of her brain missing and the gaping hole whistling in the wind. The pink sky reminding her of something it couldn’t utter in human language, and the sucking, sad, tragic tunnel pulsating in her guts – all this meant she was broken over losing somebody at the shore of the sea of oblivion.
“You know how you had that strange feeling you missed somebody? And thought it was Matt?” he said with disgust. Y/N had no energy to say anything, crashed down by the powerful feeling of loss once again, all coming down at once, like she was pulled away right from her skeleton. She was looking at this stranger sitting next to her, trying to fit him into the frame of the new found truth, and he didn’t match. And that was the part of it.
She finally knew who she’s been crying about those weeks, when she would collapse on the floor of her room suddenly, startled by the outburst, confused by even why the tears are coming. The long nights she spent agonizing, - and she’d never told anyone, not even Elena – over something, crouched under the cover, seized by terror, like something was impaling her – now she knew why. Her chest got hard and narrow, and she put the hand to her throat.
“You’re the guy he threw into the Malivore”, she finally said. Mal nodded. The world was tearing apart; she could see the tear line up above, so clearly. It was fucking crumbling down in pieces. Only Damon – only that bastard could ever think of that. Of throwing someone into oblivion to erase them completely.
She might have whimpered, because Mal slowed the car down, concern on his face, and they stopped in the middle of the road. The night highway was empty and hollow, and when she left the car, almost crawling out, she noticed there were stars after all. Just very far away. Unreachable.
She felt the light movement of air on her cheek that was burning up, like the rest of her body. The road was long, leading away into the dark patch of space where the street lightning failed and gave in. The fields were quiet around them, night fog falling slowly to wrap them in its deadly embrace. The wind cried, get inside! Be safe! But the blue twilight of the forest in the distance felt like a mount of doom approaching. You couldn’t hide from it in the car. She couldn’t figure out now why she was crying. She felt so robbed; she felt like somebody had the audacity to come and tear her heart out, and now, the worst thing, she couldn’t feel anything because it was the heart she lacked. She couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to Mal. A cautious look thrown at him found him on the other side of the hood, watching her carefully. It was as if he was afraid to approach. Maybe he thought she was too delicate, or was actually afraid.
“How…” she tried her voice, and it let her down. Only whisper came out. “How did you get out?”
Mal circled the car slowly, without hurry. There were no more sounds, just the music from the car, and his steps. Mal touched her shoulders and made her focus on him, shooting right into her eyes. He was being very dramatic.
“I crawled back to you. Wouldn’t even be the first time. Remember how I got out of hell?”
In a second only she realized that there’s a smirk crooking his dirty mouth. He enjoyed his little joke.
“Oh, of course you don’t. Sorry”.
Her hands grabbed on Mal’s elbows and she pressed herself into his chest. It’s fucked up how memories are nothing. How not having the essential information makes you lose your head as you try to understand why you trust a person you don’t know so much; why you intuitively know he’ll do no harm to you; how you’re attracted to him. His smell was familiar now, almost vital. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and felt a heavy sigh that left his body. Mal hugged her back, putting his chin on the top of her head.
“Don’t worry. I’ll show you. I’ll show you everything, I know how. I have so much to tell you… honey”.
All those days, and she cried in vain. And now she knew what she cried for. And that is so unfair her throat is about to burst with rage. Only Damon…
“I’m going to kill him”, she said gravely, all of a sudden. She could hear his heart now, too. Beating like there’s no special vampire force in it. Mal sighed again.
“It was their collective decision”.
She stepped back to look him in the face.
“What?”
“They were all on it”, he repeated. It was hard to hide the joy in his voice, like he was bringing good news. She knew now how to filter it. She knew he can’t control it.
“Even Elena?”
He rolled his eyes a little.
“Even Elena”.
Mal pulled her on the elbow gently as she started crying again.
“I’ll fix everything, I promise. Hey, they’re paying for it right now”.
With a shaking hand, she clutched his, and squeezed it.
“Mal, please… please, don’t…”
His face went hard.
“I don’t get it. Do you want to punish them or not?”
She moaned. She was holding on to his hand because the knees almost gave in. She could literally feel sanity leaving her, from the little hole in her temple. She was going mad.
“Mal…”
“It’s Kai by the way”, he added, harshly. “Kai Parker. Look at me. You know, this is what I never really understood. You’re so clearly upset, and it makes me very happy… I mean, like, not in a way that I like to see you hurt, but… well, you get it. But you still want to protect them? You were never able to make the choice, you know?”
Seeing that she is not able to object, he went on.
“Quite honestly, that’s hurtful. You know, after everything I’ve been through… you know, you have been the only person ever that didn’t hate me outright. You know? I always thought that maybe you will be the first person who chooses me over everybody else. Is that a lot to ask? I don’t know. Is it? Do you know that I spent more time searching and fighting for you since we met than actually being with you?”
“Mal, you’re hurting me”.
“It’s Kai. I am Kai. You call me Kai, because it’s my name”, he snapped, “it’s the only fucking thing I still have left. And you know who’s to blame for it? Your friends. The bunch of…” he sucked the air through his teeth. His hands were doing the opposite of what he was saying, holding her, rubbing her shoulders so that she doesn’t get cold. Maybe he held her too tightly. She yelped a little with pain, and he almost let go. Pressing his forehead close to hers, he whispered,
“This time I have made that choice for you, okay? Clearly, you need my help. I will never leave you, baby, never. You will be with me forever now, okay? Don’t worry. We’re not drifting away anymore, I won’t let it happen ever again”.
She shivered. As they kissed, she wasn’t sure who’s kissing whom. She knew she wanted it, and at the same time, in her mind, the sirens were going off, wailing like the apocalypse was banging on the walls of her consciousness. She was almost sure she knew what was happening in Mystic Falls.
#kai parker#kai parker imagine#kai parker x reader#tvd imagine#vampire diaries imagine#vampire diaries#legacies#whitmore guy
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lyra and john for the ship ask?
thank you lovely! 💕
GENERAL
rate the ship
awful | ew | no pics pls | i’m not comfortable | alright | i like it! | got pics? | let’s do it! | why is this not getting more attention?! | the otp to rule all other otps
how long will they last? as long as some part of either of them exists tbh
how quickly did/will they fall in love? when i say they have no chill and lyra moved into the ranch after living in hope county for two weeks i mean it
how was their first kiss? john’s nose bled, next question
WEDDING
who proposed? technically john. sort of. ( i’m sorry for this long answer but i haven’t really discussed it so ) lyra had already joined the project, lived with john, begun her training with jacob, and had taken up the rudimentary form of what would eventually become her role as the judge. it had only been a few months, but joseph believed he recognized her from his visions and wanted to bring her into the family Officially; at this point john and lyra were already 100% in it and he was straight up like if she’s going to become a seed it’s going to be through me, because, well, john. lyra just looked at him when he came to her with it and said “what of it? are you not my husband? am i not your wife?” and that was that; lyra doesn’t live by half-measures, she was married in every way that mattered to her the second she stepped across that threshold with her bags. ( well. shaggy carried the bags. but you get it. )
who is the best man/men? no one, but if you listened carefully you could hear shaggy sobbing outside the church. is he happy for them or crushed by the revelation he’s really stuck with both of them forever now? who can say!
who is the bride’s maid(s)? no one; faith was Not pleased when she heard lyra had gone and married her brother without telling her ( but it would have been her, if they’d had attendees. )
who did the most planning? there wasn’t much, but john ( and joseph, i suppose, since he officiated. )
who stressed the most? the only one who had any amount of stress was john.
how fancy was the ceremony?
back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 ( i’ve been informed inflation adjustment was necessary by virtue of lyra’s aura ) | 4 | normal church wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.
who was specifically not invited to the wedding? everyone, with the exception of joseph by necessity; while the significance of the two most extra drama fiends to ever step into the valley having the most understated ceremony in existence could be elaborated on with sentimentality — they can come as they are with each other, etc etc — it was partly a tactical move; lyra couldn’t fairly well maintain her cover with the locals if she publicly married john seed in an elaborate ceremony. they intend to have one officially in the new eden with all of the family and faithful; they never get that chance.
SEX
who is on top? either/or tbh
who is the one to instigate things? either/or
how healthy is their sex life?
barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | they are humping each other on the couch right now
how kinky are they?
straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head ( no horse head necessary in the sex dungeon. just kidding. they don’t have a sex dungeon they just hook up in the normal torture one )
how long do they normally last? before everything went to hell, as long as they want ( rip, get the ice packs ); after the reaping begins, as long as they have
do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? okay listen i’m going to be brutally honest, they fuck a lot, they’re not counting but they’re not complaining
how rough are they in bed?
softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | the bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make dwayne johnson blush. also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. ( their walls are premium )
how much cuddling/snuggling do they do?
no touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | a little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | they snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory. ( lyra is actually the biggest offender but she blames his needy ass. also if she knows you know this she’ll commit homicide. this is not hyperbole )
CHILDREN
how many children will they have naturally? none. ( in aus they do; one in the cult wins verse because lyra’s iud expired but she was not willing to sacrifice her sex life, and fairbrookseed have three; the twins via wes and a younger son via john. )
how many children will they adopt? three at the beginning of the reaping — boomer, peaches & cheeseburger. ( john unwilling. )
who gets stuck with the most diapers? not applicable, but hypothetically shaggy
who is the stricter parent? it would have been john
who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? it would have been john; lyra would have taught them the dangerous stunts they’re doing after school
who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? it would have been shaggy
who is the more loved parent? the furbabies love lyra more. obviously.
who is more likely to attend the pta meetings? it wOULD HAVE BEEN JOHN
who cried the most at graduation? same answer; lyra would have waited until they got home and then cried in the shower for an hour
who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? either/both, but in practice probably john
COOKING
who does the most cooking? neither/shaggy; lyra if you count her Attempts when she staggers in at 3am after hunting sinners or gathering intel at the spread eagle
who is the most picky in their food choice? john; lyra behaves like she is but in fact thinks it will be a shame when casey’s non-testicle related recipes are lost when he burns in the collapse
who does the grocery shopping? neither; lyra’s the most likely to bring things back from town, but it’s usually liquor she swiped from the bar ( so that mary may can’t sell it, of course! )
how often do they bake desserts? they don’t bake
are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? whatever shaggy puts in front of them; it’s probably meat and it’s probably unfortunate
who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? john, but he’s only responsible for the theatrics; everything was 100% still prepared by the flock
who is more likely to suggest going out? for the truly exceptional hope county cuisine, served in businesses they definitely didn’t try to get shut down, in which they are most definitely both still welcome and could appear together without blowing her cover and/or getting shot on sight? neither. in a “let’s physically go out by the fire pit” sense, lyra.
who is more likely to burn the house down accidentally while cooking? honestly, both of them, because in the event they were cooking one of them probably decided to be distracting~ while they waited~ and oh no they forgot about it oh no everything’s on fire oh no shaggy put it out oh no shaggy how could you let this happen
CHORES
who cleans the room? shaggy
who is really against chores? both to an extent, but especially lyra
who cleans up after the pets? neither, but since john philosophically opposes their presence in the first place and tries to ship them off to jacob every tuesday, it sure as hell ain’t him
who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? if, inexplicably, they’re sweeping, it’s lyra, both proverbially and literally
who stresses the most when guests are coming over? if the guest is joseph ( or even jacob ), JOHN. otherwise they’re unconcerned.
who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? a dollar? one (1) dollar? john keeps literal stacks of thousands of dollars in cash just sitting around. the answer is hopefully not the resistance.
MISC
who takes the longer showers/baths? john ( but lyra usually joins. )
who takes the dog out for a walk? shaggy, boomer has almost taken his leg off on fifty separate occasions. ( it’s lyra. )
how often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? canonically they never have the opportunity, really, but lyra probably would have decorated for the winter holidays. some mistletoe on the antlers, a garland on that sinner corpse hanging out by the porch. beautiful.
what are their goals for the relationship? to make it to new eden, tbh. they found unconditional love in each other when that was an impossibility for them for most of their lives; they just want to keep what they have and prove themselves worthy.
who is most likely to sleep till noon? JOHN. lyra’s up before dawn every day ( and drags him out of bed to watch the sunrise with her; he’s very excited for the apocalypse. )
who plays the most pranks? pranks? lyra, but not the funny sort, it’s like...whoops, sorry, i forgot to mention i was roasting sinners out back, the grounds will smell like burning flesh for a bit! did you bring home any flayed skin today? <3 ( i jest, it’s more to the effect of “the sinners were terribly dull today so to amuse myself i told them i heard rumors about the judge and the reason they didn’t know you had a wife is because you kept her locked in a sex dungeon. also, adelaide wants you to spank her. how went the confessions?” )
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