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yikesharringrove · 3 years

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Billy has no fucking clue what he’s doing right now.

He’s never taken care of a sick person before.

And he’s not exactly the nurturing type. Not like Steve is.

But Steve is fucking sick.

And Billy doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Can you check if I have a fever?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

“Just like, feel my face. See if it’s hot.”

Billy raised one hand tentatively, slapping his palm down onto Steve’s forehead.

Steve grunted, sighing dramatically.

“Uh, I can’t tell.”

“Use the back of your hand, numb nuts.”

Billy let go of Steve’s head, pressing the back of his hand gently instead.

“You feel, kinda warm?” Steve glared at him. “I don’t know! I don’t have a reference to how warm your forehead typically is.”

“Feel your own or something!”

Billy just about hit himself in the nose feeling his own temperature.

“I guess you’re warmer than I am?”

Steve rolled his eyes, flopping back into bed.

Billy just kinda stared at him.

He wanted to help, but he genuinely doesn’t know how.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Isn’t soup like, the thing for a sick person?

“I think there’s some chicken noodle in the bottom pantry.” Steve was now giving him the sweet doe eyes. Although the effect was undercut by how glassy they looked and his red runny nose.

“Okay. Um, how do I make it.”

Steve stared at him.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Soup. How do I make it?” Billy was never allowed in the kitchen growing up. Cooking is a woman’s job in his dad’s eyes, and if Billy even offered to help Susan, or one of the girlfriends before her, Neil would be breathing down his neck and calling him a fairy.

“So, uh, open the can. And pour the soup into a pot, adding one can full of water to the soup. And then just like, wait until it’s hot.”

“But, there’s chicken in it. Doesn’t that need to cook?”

Steve blinked at him a few times.

“The chicken’s already cooked, Bill. You just gotta make the broth hot.”

Billy nodded curtly. Determined.

This would be easy.

It was not easy.

First of all, he had no fucking idea how to use the can opener.

The Harrington’s had this fucking electric one. Because using a handheld can opener was somehow a hassle.

In the end, he gave up pressing random buttons and stabbed the top of the can with a knife a few times, leaving long gashes he clumsily connected.

He swore loudly when the shape he had cut out of the top immediately fell into the soup.

But he poured it into the pot, fishing out the lid in there.

He added the water like Steve said, and stared at the stove dials.

Is this, like, a medium job? Billy feels like he’s heard that. Maybe in one of Susan’s cooking shows. Over a medium heat....

Why not?

He cranked the dial to medium and hoisted himself up to sit on the counter, staring into the pot.

He was gonna do this right. Gonna take care of his sick little Steve if it fucking killed him.

He was gonna heat the soup perfectly, not burn it, bring it to Steve and maybe even feed it to him.

Wait, can soup burn? Because hot water just evaporates, and this soup is at least 50% water, with the can full Billy added. So, the broth evaporates and the stuff in it burns? Or can broth burn, too?

He glanced back down at it, startling at the now bubbling soup in the pot.

Bubbling’s good, though. Like boiling. Right?

He found a wooden spoon in a narrow drawer next to the stove, giving the soup a few stirs.

He should make sure it’s hot.

He stared at it some more.

He can’t just like, put his finger in there.

Should he assume it’s hot enough? What with the bubbling action and all.

But is the chicken hot?

He fished a piece of chicken out with his wooden spoon, blowing on it once before popping it into his mouth.

Oh, fuck.

Yeah, the chicken’s hot.

The chicken’s fucking scalding.

He turned off the stove and found the bowls after testing three different cabinets, locating the spoons after what felt like an hour.

He painstakingly ladled soup into the bowl with the small spoon, fighting the urge to bang his head against the wall when he remembered seeing a ladle in the drawer with the wooden spoon.

And when he deemed the bowl finally full, he carried it up to Steve as carefully as he could.

Steve smiled brightly at him.

“I could hear you banging around and swearing down there. Thought maybe you started a fire.”

“Nope. Just made this for you. What the fuck is up with your can opener? You really too good for one ‘a those handheld ones?”

Steve laughed, accepting the hot bowl and setting it on the breakfast-in-bed tray in front of him.

“There’s one of those in the drawer with the peelers and baster and stuff. But I assume you got is working?”

Billy thought of the knife he no doubt ruined.

“Yeah. Got it working.”

Steve ate the first bite, blowing on it carefully.

“You did a good job.”

Something warm fluttered in Billy’s gut.

“Yeah? It taste good?”

Steve gave him an odd look.

“Did you do something weird to it?”

“No. Just. Never cooked before. Wanted to get it right.”

And Steve went all ooey gooey. The way he does when Billy says something that make his cheeks go hot. Something a little to close to the vest.

“Well, you did. Thank you.” He took another bite. “But I can’t believe you’ve never even made soup before.”

“Neil says cooking is women’s work.”

“Neil can choke on a fat one.”

Billy laughed at Steve’s petulant face, the snot running down from his nose.

“Nah. Don’t think he deserves the pleasure of sucking a dick.”

“Then he can choke on something stupid. A rock. Or like, his own vomit or something.”

“Big talk from a guy that looks ready to hurl.”

Steve sniffed deeply, snorting up his own snot.

“That was fucking gross, Stevie.”

“Leave me alone if you’re just gonna be fucking rude. I’m sick. I deserve compassion.”

“And I made you goddamn soup. If that’s not compassion I don’t know what the fuck is.”

“It’s basic cooking, you asshole. That’s what.” Steve blew on another spoonful of soup, slurping up a few noodles with his bite.

Billy still didn’t know what the fuck he was doing here.

“So, uh, I can do something else? That would make you feel better?”

Steve gave him the gooey look again, the tip of his nose bright red from scrubbing at it with the tissues litering the bed.

“Just stay with me? I was gonna take some medicine,” he gestured to the bottle of dark green liquid on the nightstand, “and it’ll knock my ass out, if you wanna nap with me. Or you could leave, I don’t wanna keep you-”

Steve trailed off as Billy stood up, wiggling out of his tight jeans, stealing a pair of Steve’s gym shorts from the dirty laundry hamper in the corner. He tossed his shirt on the floor, sliding under the covers with Steve.

“So, nap time?”

“Just let me finish this gourmet ass soup and I’ll be right with you.”

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

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deckof-dragons · 3 years

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bugsnax idea: while buddy, filbo, and egg are climbing the mountain after the point of no return, beff and cromdo are grudgingly cooperating on a salvaging run to some wrecks that got shifted by the earthquake. theyre looking for parts to fix buddys airship. they also bring back some other supplies. buddy is very happy about this (it doesn't matter that it was in a sunken ship for a year, freeze dried scrambled eggs is WAY more of a meal than sauce - plus the medical supplies are useful)

I'm not 100% sure this ask was intended as a request but I treated it as such anyway because I wanted to. I mostly wanted to try writing from Beffica's POV because I love her but also hate her for being mean to Filbo. And this was a good way to do that, especially since I like her Cromdo's dislike for one another. Also, I suppose this is also a good way to establish that I'm open to requests. I do wish you had sent it to my Bugnsax blog (@poliel) though but it did come in like right after I made the blog so it's possible you didn't know about it.

“You only volunteered to do this because you’re hoping to steal some treasure,” Beffica said as they left Snaxburg together.

“Nah, that ain’t the only reason,” Cromdo replied. “Somebody’s got to do it, might as well be me, right? And if I happen upon some treasure whilst searching through the wreckage, there ain’t no harm in taking it. ‘Sides, you only volunteered to keep an eye on me. So you ain’t got a leg to stand on here.”

Beffica couldn’t exactly argue with that since it was true. But somebody needed to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t try anything sleezy. In the interest of this being a rather urgent matter though, she didn’t bother saying so or anything else for now. Once they fixed the air ship and were safely sailing away, they could all go back to fighting and hating each other. Until then though it was best to get along and work together.

So instead, she started jogging, trying not to think about the occasional earth rumbling or the mounds of what looked like food coming out of the ground. As expected, Cromdo picked up his pace too, almost immediately starting to breath heavier.

By the time they reached the beach proper, Beffica was starting to breath harder too. Gosh how had long had it been since she’d last gone for a proper jog? Too long for sure. For Cromdo however it had clearly been longer with the way he was huffing and puffing. She wasn’t going to slow down for him though, they were in too much of a hurry and it made any further conversation impossible. So onward they continued towards Boiling Bay.

By the time they got there Beffica knew to expect it to be different than it had before the quake based off the changes Shimmering Springs had clearly gone through. The lava flow that had once crossed across the sand into the ocean had slowed to a trickle, the cave it came out of blocked up with rocks. The biggest change though and what was surprising enough to cause them both to slow to a halt was how much the shoreline had been altered. It hardly looked like the same place anymore. But as Snorpy had suggested, the quake had shook up and revealed more wreckage. Including two halves of a whole ship sticking up out of the water a bit further out. Which was the first real turn of lucked they’d had since arriving on this dang island especially since it looked remarkably intact other than the whole being split in half thing. In fact it looked like it hadn’t been there for very long … Wait a minute…

“I think that’s the ship we arrived here on,” Cromdo said before she could even complete the thought. “I guess Liz and Egg didn’t run off with it after all.”

“Huh? But how’d it get… You know what? Never mind. We don’t have to time to waste. Let’s go get what we need and gather anything else that might be useful and get back to Snaxburg.” Hopefully before another big quake hit or lava destroyed the town or the Queen of Bugsnax showed up to eat everyone or the Grumpinati came to finish them off or whatever other bad thing could supposedly end them before they could got off this island.

With the ship being split in two and there being two of them the most logical course of action was to split up and each search one half. Which made keeping an eye on Cromdo more difficult but the matter was a bit too urgent for Beffica to really worry about. It also unfortunately this meant getting very wet since the ship was still more submerged than not. But on the bright side, the bugsnax meant she currently didn’t have fur anymore and thus she didn’t have to deal that because wet fur was the worst.

It was Cromdo’s idea to carry everything they could salvage back in. Beffica was the one who found the ship’s massive ice chest though. It was more than big enough for their needs and already had some random foodstuffs in it, a good start. There somehow wasn’t even much water in it.

Their number one priority was finding what could even maybe be used to fix Buddy’s air ship and get it up and running again. Lucky for them Snorpy somehow seemed to know exactly what they would need for that and quickly laid it out for them. Hopefully they could find everything he needed.

Once they had what seemed and would hopefully be enough to fix the airship bundled into the ice chest on top of what was already in there, they both went back to their ship halves to have one more look around for anything that might be useful and would fit in the space left in the chest. Beffica unfortunately didn’t find much, everything else that might’ve once been helpful was too waterlogged to be of any real use now. But upon reuniting with Cromdo by the ice chest she was pleased to see he’d found something.

“What’s that?” she asked she approached.

“First aid kits. I don’t know how well anything inside them held up with the whole being underwater thing for however grumping long but it don’t hurt to bring them along regardless. But anyway, you find any treasure? Or anything that might be worth selling?” His hopeful tone indicated he’d found no such thing himself.

“Nope.” Not that she’d had brought it along if she had. “I unfortunately didn’t find anything actually useful either.”

With a sigh, Cromdo snapped the ice chest’s lid shut.

“Let’s just get this back to Snaxburg,” she continued before he could say anything. “Buddy and company should be nearing Frost Peak by now. We need to have the airship ready to go preferably before they get back.” Hopefully Lizbert would be with them. If not then… they’d have to write her off for good.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Let’s just get the grump out of here already. You take the back end, I’ll take the front. And lift with your legs, not your back ‘cause trust me, just ‘cause you’re young don’t mean you can’t throw your back out. And you don’t want to do that.”

“Yeah, grandpa, I know.” Beffica went around to grab her side.

“Hey, I ain’t that old.”

Beffica scoffed but otherwise chose to ignore him. “Lift in three… two… one.” They lifted it with a grunt and wasted no time starting back for Snaxburg.

One escape sequence later

Filbo seemed have steering the ship well in hand so Buddy gratefully plopped down to sit on their bed after making sure everyone was okay. It was rather crowded on board but it was still their ship so everyone had kindly left the bed to them. They were a bit tempted to lie out on it and take a nap but… they were still a bit too high strung to fully relax yet. Besides, there was a large ice chest on board now, pushed up against the back wall to keep it out of the way. Someone must’ve loaded it up with stuff from the town and brought it onboard before the bugsnax really began their assault. What exactly was inside was a mystery though, but one that shouldn’t be horrible and terrifying and therefore a safe thing to investigate. It’d also just be good to know in general in case anyone needed anything that it might contain. So Buddy reached over and pulled it closer and perpendicular to the bed so they could pop the latches and open it.

Inside was mostly empty but there was a rolled-up bit of sail cloth and a few loose planks of wood. … Ah, probably the leftovers of the stuff the others had used to repair the ship. What little was left probably wouldn’t be useful but it was best to keep it around anyway, just in case it was. Underneath that was… first aid kits, three of them. They were all leaking water, probably seawater judging based off the smell of it. Anything that was waterproof inside was still good to have on hand though. And at the bottom were packets of…

“Freeze dried scrambled eggs?” Buddy read the label aloud as they lifted it. That was certainly not what they’d expected and a quick look revealed the other packets had other freeze-dried foods as well. With a shrug, the dried it off before tearing it open with their teeth. They then sniffed the opening. … Hmm… it didn’t smell like the sea water had gotten in so… the poured some into their mouth.

It did not at all taste like any scrambled eggs Buddy had ever had. It didn’t have much of a flavor at all really. But what little was there was far better than ketchup or any other sauce. It was the first solid food Buddy had eaten in months. With that in mind they were tempted to down the whole thing right this instant followed by everything else in the ice chest. Before they did that though…

“Hey Gramble.” With how morosely quiet everyone was being they didn’t even need to raise their voice a whole lot for Gramble to hear them over by the bow of the ship. “I found some real food if you want some.” He’d gone even longer without eating solid food than Buddy had so he deserved some too.

His response was barely audible but sounded and awful lot like a “No, thanks.” Before Buddy could ask him if he was sure though, he perked up, raising his voice. “Wait, by ‘real food’ do you mean not bugsnax and not sauce?”

“Yep, exactly!”

“Oh, okay then!” And he was on his way over with Wiggle following.

Next Buddy turned to look at Shelda who’d been sitting in the corner on the other side of the cabin. She’d gotten up though and approached. She took a breath, clearly intending to ask for them to share. Buddy spoke up before she could though. “You can have some too.” She may have occasionally lost the battle of willpower and partaken in eating bugsnax but she’d still mostly eaten sauce for however long she’d been on the island.

“I… thanks,” she said before settling down on the floor by the ice chest.

“Ooh, let’s see,” Wiggle said as she and Gramble arrived. “Freeze-dried scrambled eggs that’s… not all appetizing.”

“It’s a whole lot better than sauce,” Gramble said, mirroring Buddy’s feelings exactly.

Speaking of that, Buddy was done offering to share with anyone else. No one else needed any or would probably even want any regardless. And there was already barely enough for just the three of them. When they got home, Buddy would eat all the real food they desired. For now though, this would more than do.

#my writing #bugsnax #beffica winklesnoot #cromdo face #the journalist #request

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weirdfetishes123 · 3 years

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Blueberry Bottom Blaine Ripens Again (part 2) - deviantart

by juicybb

"Blaine, wake up!"

Tommy shook Blaine's shoulder as he awoke with a start. He rubbed his eyes. "Sorry T, was I shouting again?"

Tommy nodded. "You were dreaming about what happened the chocolate factory again?"

Blaine sighed. "Yeah, I just can't get it out of my head." As if to prove his point, Blaine tried rolling onto his back, but he was prevented by his swollen butt — a byproduct of what happened that didn't deflate during the juicing process.

Twiddle had been wrong though- after being juiced, Blaine hadn't blown back up into a blueberry. His hair had stayed a rich, deep blue, and after the juicing his stomach stayed the size of a beach ball. His arms and legs were still slightly swollen, and to Blaine's delight at first, his butt cheeks were the size of basketballs.

Blaine rolled in the bed, his blue spandex bikini briefs stretched around the plump cheeks. "Anything different about this dream?" Tommy asked.

Blaine yawned. "No- just reliving the events again. I keep filling up with juice and blowing up into a blueberry again."

Tommy looked down and saw that Blaine, laying on his side, sported a erection as he said it. "Just inflating like a big balloon, huh?" He smirked as he saw Blaine's bulge throbbing at the words.

In the three weeks after the factory incident, Blaine had tried to resume his life as he realized he wasn't going to stay a blueberry forever. He found pants with elastic waistbands to get over his giant rear, and spandex that wouldn't rip.

At first, the proud power bottom was addicted to the attention he was receiving. When he and Tommy and Rich would go out, all the boys would be whispering and pointing at his butt. One group even tried resting their drinks on the plump cheeks.

Eventually, Blaine came to realize that his butt was also a hindrance. The times that he'd gone home with a guy, even the biggest tops that he knew were unable to squeeze far enough past his enormous cheeks. Some were able to get their members in, but not far enough to hit Blaine's pleasure spot. The result was an awful tease for the poor big booty Blaine.

He also realized that his reputation was being changed forever. He'd always had a big butt, but the immediate swelling of his belly and butt, and his bright blue hair, were all that anyone could talk about. Blaine wasn't shy and he and Tommy and Rich didn't have any problem talking about what happened.

"Did you have plastic surgery or something??" one boy had asked.

"Nah," Blaine asked. "I had an accident at the Twiddle Chocolate Factory. We went in for a private tour, and I ended up having an accident and inflating into a giant blueberry."

"A... blueberry?" the boy stammered.

"Yeah," Blaine nonchalantly replied, beginning to subconsciously rub his swollen rear. "They got most of the juice out of me but there were some permanent side effects. I guess I'm part blueberry now!"

The nickname stuck, and Bottom Blaine also started becoming known as Blueberry Blaine. First it was only snarky behind his back, but quickly Blaine came to embrace it- having his friends call him that, and wearing blue clothes and chewing gum and blowing big bubbles that elicited comparisons to his spherical gut and butt.

Still, Blaine's hunger got worse and worse. He hadn't been properly screwed in over a month now, and he kept dreaming about what it would be like to be back in the factory, in front of his friends, blowing back up. As his sexual frustration mounted, he began to fantasize about it more and more.

That day Blaine had climbed out of bed, squeezed his taut balloon belly into a t-shirt.

Rich and Tommy were having breakfast, getting ready to go to the gym. "What's going on today, Blaine?" Rich asked, clad in a white shirt and shiny black workout tights.

Blaine pulled his breakfast out of the fridge- blueberry yogurt- and added more fresh blueberries to the cup. Rich and Tommy glanced at each other. "I think I need to see a doctor," Blaine said.

"You've seen plenty," said Tommy, who was dressed almost the same as Rich. "They've all told you, there's nothing you can do about your... bigger body."

Blaine sighed. "I know, it's just... I tried again last night, and the guy couldn't hit the spot."

"Again?" Rich asked.

"I know!" Blaine exclaimed. "And he's pretty big too- my cheeks were just too big and plump for him to get his hips up against mine."

Tommy looked at Rich, then back to Blaine. "What if we saw Mr. Twiddle again?"

Blaine's eyes lit up. "Do you think that would help?"

"Sure," Rich said. "He knows better than those doctors what happened to you. And besides, what could hurt?"

Blaine grinned. "Let's do it!" He bounded away back to his room, both Tommy and Rich staring as his big butt cheeks bounced in his blue bikinis.

Blaine returned a few minutes later, clad in the same shiny blue spandex suit from the factory the month before. It still fit him like a glove, and Rich and Tommy were surprised to see that he had held onto it. As the boys stared, he looped the bright red elastic belt around his swollen waistline, highlighting his enormous belly. "Still fits," Blaine said with a smile. "Let's go!"

The boys had phoned ahead, so Twiddle had been waiting for them at the entrance. As Blaine squeezed out of the car, Twiddle clapped. "Look at that blueberry boy!" he cried. "You make not have blown back up but you're still a sight!"

The spandex-clad boys all walked into the entrance with Twiddle, Rich and Tommy both flanking the plump blue boy in the middle. Twiddle ushered them along. "Unfortunately we're scaling up production tomorrow, so like I said on the phone, we're going to have to talk as I'm touring the factory."

"That's no problem," said Tommy.

"In fact we might actually get to see more of it after our last tour was cut short!" Rich said, shooting a look at Blaine who sheepishly grinned.

The group followed Twiddle into a large room with conveyor belts, lifts and chutes, where chocolate bars in various forms were moving around the room, being chopped, wrapped, and packaged.

"So my problem, Mr. Twiddle, is that I can't get my butt to go down," Blaine began to explain, hollering over the noise.

"I thought a boy like you was excited to have a big posterior!" Twiddle shouted in a surprised tone.

"I do!" Blaine said as he began his subconscious rubbing. "But my cheeks are too plump and it's made certain... recreational activities more difficult."

Twiddle and the boys walked into the next room, where boilers filled with concoctions rose 20, 30, 40 feet into the air! Each was spurting out candies and chocolates into sheets, and the loud sound of bubbling and steam whistles filled the air.

"I see, I see," replied Mr. Twiddle to Blaine. "But really you only have yourself to blame. I did warn you." Seeing the boy rubbing his taut plump rear end, he prodded it with his cane. "I see you're getting quite attached to the size, in fact!"

Blaine made a face and Rich and Tommy could swear they saw him blush a little — Blaine was never one to be embarrassed! — but that might have been the light and his bright blue hair.

"I need you to help, it's driving me crazy," Blaine exclaimed.

"Just consider yourself lucky that only a few of the side effects became permanent!" Twiddle said. "You can thank your friends here, for juicing you so quickly!" Tommy and Rich quickly looked away- they remembered how excited they'd been and how eager they were to release the juice from their friend's bloated erection.

They walked into the next room. This one was much quieter, with green vines hanging down from the 25-foot ceilings. The vines moved and shifted on their own like snakes, as a group of Twiddle's diminutive orange minions were carrying a giant strawberry out of the room. Once they left, the floor was empty.

The boys stopped. "What is this room?" Rich asked.

"Remember all the giant fruit that proved to be too much for poor Blaine here on your last visit?" Twiddle said. "This is where I make them. These vines are specially made to pump juice into the giant fruits. We make them on a daily basis- well, except for blueberries lately."

"Why not blueberries?" Blaine asked quizzically.

"Why, because you drained every last drop of juice out of my last blueberry!" said Twiddle. "These fruits are designed to be plumped up and then juiced, but not drained entirely. Since you sucked the juice out of my prize fruit, the blueberry vine here won't touch it." Twiddle gestured to one of the vines that was engorged and dripping blue, slippery liquid.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know!" Blaine protested.

Twiddle shook his head. "You think you're frustrated, this vine hasn't filled anything up since your visit to the factory."

As they spoke, the vine curled around, almost inspecting Blaine's rear end. The young man stopped rubbing his butt and twisted around. "What's it doing?"

Twiddle furrowed his brow. "Your rear end is plump and shiny and blue! I expect it's mistaken it for its old blueberry."

Blaine stared, transfixed at the phallic vine with the small opening at its rounded end. Blue juice dripped out. Blaine's sexual frustration boiled over, seeing the throbbing vine, and his spandex started tenting out under his taut belly. Rich and Tommy stared as Blaine's erection became more and more prominent.

"It looks... weird," said Rich.

"It looks funny," said Tommy.

"It looks delicious," said Blaine, his voice hungry and lustful. He stared as the vine began prodding each cheek, checking the plumpness of the blue globes.

"Let's move along," Twiddle said, "I've got a lot to do today and I'm behind production without my prized blueberry."

Blaine ignored him. All he could think about was something that could finally hit his spot. As the vine explored his rear, Blaine began to rock his giant butt back more. The vine leaked more and more juice, as it found the tiny rip in Blaine's suit.

"Watch out, Blaine..." Tommy warned.

But it was too late. With a loud juicy PLOP, the vine had entered Blaine. He shivered as the slick vine began to go deeper as Blaine's throbbing erection full tented out the front of his spandex suit.

"Oh man, guys, stop, its inside me!" Blaine yelled.

Tommy and Rich stared on. Twiddle blew into a whistle, and warned "That vine is plenty ripe, we'd better get it out of Blaine."

But the vine twisted and turned on it own. Blaine could feel the blue juice begin to pulse out of it, and he began to moan. "Guys, I'm finally getting to bottom!" His hands moved from his butt to his beach ball belly, bisected by the wide red belt. Blaine's eyes widened as he felt the juice pulsing in his gut as well.

"Blaine, you know what happened last time," said Tommy.

"Get it out before something happens," Rich said. Blaine heard them both but couldn't get past the feeling as the vine pulsed in and out of his massive butt.

Rich grabbed Blaine's shoulders, giving a quick break in his pleasure. "Dude, if you don't get this out of you quick, you're going to start inflating again!!"

With that realization Blaine let out a deep moan and his tent throbbed harder. "Dude... I want... this... inside me..." Blaine trailed off. Almost on cue, he felt the pulse of the juice quicken, and more began to pour into him.

The boys and Twiddle stared as Blaine's face flushed blue, matching his spandex and hair. His mouth framed in a moan, Blaine's blue eyes begged- for escape, Tommy wondered? Or for more?

Blaine's butt began to swell first, bigger and bigger until each cheek matched the size of his giant belly. He turned around watching it, feeling the juice pump it bigger and bigger. Sensing the shift inside, he began lifting his plump arms and looked down at his stomach.

The juice then began to swell his midsection, as the boy's belly inflated slowly. The red belt continued to stretch to impossible proportions as his belly went from beach ball to yoga ball sized, finally snapping with a loud POP! The boy's entire outfit and body was a bright blue now, his rear end sticking out prominently, and his taut juicy belly protruding over what was still a very visible tent made by his erection.

"Dude, you're blowing up again!" Tommy said.

Rich poked his belly. "Blueberry Blaine can't help himself!"

Twiddle smirked, "It doesn't seem like he wants to! Is that what this was about? You boys were looking for an excuse to help Blaine's inflation addiction?"

Rich and Tommy couldn't answer. Even though they had seen what happened last month, they were still transfixed by the sight of Blaine inflating into a giant blueberry. The young man was still swelling, his waist almost four feet in diameter. His arms flapped down as he felt his bloating body continue to get bigger and bigger. "Guys... I feel fuuuuunny," he said, once again understating his predicament.

Blaine's belly swelled in every direction — up, back, down, and out — the swelling midsection eventually reaching both his plumping butt and his tenting member. He began to lose mobility as his bloated legs and arms met his blueberry middle. "I'm ripening!" he gasped as he looked at his spandex-clad friends.

Tommy and Rich looked at Blaine as he once again plumped up into a full blueberry- his arms and legs slowly disappearing into his round body. The vine in Blaine's rear continued to pump more and more juicy as the young man groaned softly in ecstasy.

As Blaine once again fully ripened, the swelling slowed, his hands and feet pressed against the sides of his fully inflated, spherical body. His sighed as the vine twisted out of him, retreating to the ceiling high above the bloated blue boy and his two friends.

Rich and Tommy stared with wide eyes. Blaine turned with a few quick waddles to face them directly.

"How are you feeling, bro?" Rich asked cautiously.

Blaine looked at them with a mixture of contentment and lust. "I needed that- finally got to bottom for real this time," he said with a half smile. "I'm so juicy," he said, pressing his taut, plump, spandex covered blue body. "So ripe! I'm a blueberry again!"

Twiddle raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Tommy and Rich, you'd better get moving. You might be able to reverse some of the side effects permanently again if you juice him quick."

"Wait..." said Blaine, his deep blue face a mask of pleasure. "Take... your time guys, this feels... incredible..."

Tommy looked over at Rich. His eyes were stuck on bloated Blaine. Rich's shiny black tights gleamed, and Tommy couldn't miss Rich's tent in the spandex. Tommy realized that he had an erection to match in his own spandex pants.

Blaine eyed them both lustily. "Maybe... you guys... were a little... too quick... last time..."

Twiddle clucked his tongue at the young man. "I'm warning you Blaine, you got out lucky last time. The longer you wait before juicing, the more permanent the side effects will be! You could find yourself with an even bigger butt and bigger belly, or a blue face forever. Or you could simply blow back up into a blueberry after every juicing, constantly inflating and ripening and swelling up like a big blue blimp."

Blaine listened to Twiddle's warning and felt his erection throb harder. "Time to roll me to the juicing room... boys..."

Tommy patted Rich's butt in the black spandex, and the two then put their hands on their friend's plump, round, blue body. "Let's get going," Rich said, smiling at the newly ripened Blaine...

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imtryingthisout · 4 years

Text

Of Flames and Fire: Prologue

[If you hate me for writing this, just remember I hate myself more and that this began because of a joke.]

Warnings: Ask to Tag

Word Count: 3627

Fandom: Disney Descendants

*************************************************

Dirt clung to the fringes of Maleficent’s robes as she descended deeper into the cavernous warren. Once upon a time her presence would have struck such fear that not even the dust mites would have dared come near her, but such a time was over now, and now the endings of her black cloak grew more and more soiled with every step she took.

She held a twisted candelabra in one hand and her faithful staff in the other. The small flame burned a deep rouge color, more red than yellow, with how thick and low the air had become. Maleficent was surprised it still burned at all. She was thankful for the candle’s valiant effort. Gone were the days where she could summon a ball of hellfire to illuminate the room, and with all the dust and filth in the air she wasn't sure her darkvision would be of any use.

A drop of hot wax struck her fingers.

Maleficent continued onwards.

As she ventured closer and closer to her destination, the sound of barking began to ring in her ears. Viscous growls, the sound of teeth hitting teeth, shrieks and yelps and oh so much barking. Were she a lesser soul it might have frightened her, or at the very least given her a pause, but she knew that no dog (three headed or otherwise) lived down here, just a lonely master trying to cope with the sound of silence.

(Out of everything her new prison tormented her with, Maleficent never thought she would grow to loathe the quiet. The silence. Even on the Forbidden Mountain she would hear the rustling of wind, the roaring cacophony of her minion’s delight, the sound of Diablo’s deep cawing. But here, even with the tumult of the budding city of thieves and villains, her thoughts screamed louder than any noise. Here she felt more alone than she ever did atop her ruined castle.)

No door was mounted to the cave’s wall, it would be far too impractical to do so, so Maleficent raised a curved fist and knocked thrice on a wooden post instead. “Who is it?” a voice called out from lower in the room, it sounded irritated and gruff, good. Maleficent smiled “Just a passing visitor Lord Hades”.

Quicker than she thought possible, the exiled Monarch of the Underworld stood leaning against the doorframe, one arm draped over the rotten wood and his head tilted with a school boy smile (if a school boy had eyes of glowing brimstone and thorny rows of sharp teeth protruding from his gums). “Why Miss Maleficent, what brings you to my little.. home away from home?”

She took a moment to drink in his sight, he looked more or less the same as he did when they first met, a little more tired, maybe, a little less put together, thick silver-colored cuffs bound round his wrists to drain his godly might. Still something about him seemed different, she couldn't quite place her finger on it, then she met his gaze. “Kohl around the eyes, Lord Hades? I do hope you aren't going Egyptain on me”

He snorted and rolled his- yes, black lined- eyes “Nah those guys are great, but they sure as Me don’t need another Death God. Besides- Blue Hair? Blue Skin? It’s already confusing enough for mortals to get us mixed up at parties, and don't even get me started on the Ptolemaic Pantheon menagerie, cultural syncretism is fun and all but all that rewriting and re-rewriting and who’s who even got my head more turned around than the gordian knot!”

Here Hades stood taller than Maleficent, even with his slumped posture and hunched back. The slope of the floor was curved in his favor. Her horns were a brandished crown growing, twisting, above her head and barely scraping the stone above her.

She let the humor linger in the air for a breath before speaking. “I have a proposition for you, my lord” she said while dismissing the candle and setting it down on a rock ledge. The light from Hades’ hair and lair would suffice to brighten her vision. Maleficent raised a free arm “Shall we continue our conversation inside? I feel it would be awfully rude to lurk in doorways.” Hades’ smile grew wider, almost splitting his face in two.

“My dearest disgrace to all things dignified, it would be my pleasure” He said, taking her arm and leading her inside. Despite herself she snorted. “My lord I am always dignified, it is deferential which I am not”

Hades’s new domain lay deep underground in the heart of the Isle. Despite his many years of hatred of being saddled with the burden of the Underworld, the room appeared very similar to his old home. ‘Perhaps that is the point’, Maleficent thought, wondering if his new dwelling was really of Hades’ choosing, or did he simply wake up on the Isle in a room modeled after his old kingdom, swapping an old prison for a new one. She wasn’t sure if Zeus had it in him...but Zeus wasn't the only one hurt by Hades’ failed machinations, and she knew that Hera certainitly did, fondness for her older brother or not- the Queen of Gods would not have hesitated to rub salt in any wounds of her child’s stealer. Especially when such irony would have been involved.

In another life, perhaps it would have been Hera who Maleficent would be conversing with, she did always have a healthy respect for the Golden Throned Goddess,like draws to like afterall, and there is nothing more similar yet individual than women with power.

Then again, in another life she wouldn't need to bargain, in another life she would have crushed Prince Phillip’s sword between her teeth and swallowed him whole, in another life she would have blessed the infant Princess with a gift of her own, something clever and far more powerful than any of the Three Sisters trivial delights. In another life---

Hades leads her to a sitting area, long tatham benches set interlocking with one another, made of dark ebony wood. Maleficent gathers the excess of her robe in her grip and takes a seat, then slowly lets the fabric flow down and unfurl on the clean gray floor. The Lord of the Dead seats himself next to her, and after a moment’s pause, she allows him to wrap one of his hands around her waist.

“I have come to reclaim my debt, Your Majesty” she begins, he laughs and jokes “I’m not a accountant dollface, you’ll have to be more specific. I think I still got some styx-water sloshing around in my skull” but she can see the tightness around his eyes, the stiffness in his fingers as he cleans his ear and flicks a droplet of water over his shoulder, he knows exactly what she is referring to. He also knows that his newfound lack of power might have put him in a very precarious situation. Maleficent smiles sharply.

The grip on her waist tightens.

“Then let me help to restart your memory, years ago you needed an elixir that would turn anything, even a God, mortal. I concocted such a potion on the clause that you would… how did you say it? ‘Owe me one bigtime mama '’” she said drolling her words and making air quotations with her slender fingers. The God of The Dead had the decency to look sheepish, a bright blue blush blooming under his siltstone skin. “Okay yeah might’ve been a bit drunk on success when I said that…”

“Mmhmm” Maleficent hummed, raising a single eyebrow.

“....sorry”

“In any case, a deal is a deal, and now I see to collect my end of our bargain”

“It would be my pleasure my lovely lady of labilzation--” “that one was better” “Thank you I do try, --- however I’m sure it has not escaped your notice that, unlike before, I no longer have the Underworld and all its resources at my disposal to grant your dark heart’s deepest desire-- “Lord Hades are you implying I ever had a heart to begin with?” “ Ha ha no. But you do have desires that our current predicament might limit me from fulfilling”

“And you do hate to leave your women unfulfilled, don’t you Hades?”

“Yes I- HEY” Hades began with his usual smooth inflection, not even really looking at her, before cutting himself on and standing up in outrage. Face pinched and flushed. He started pacing back and forth in front of her while Maleficent looked on in cruel delight. He was yammering about something, going on about respect and proper dues and getting wonderfully worked up about himself. It almost made her nostalgic.

“I mean I know I’m no roving casanova like dear little Zeus-y, Persphone would gut me for even trying that and--”

Then his body stilled and he turned to face her, running his hands through his hair to gather his thoughts. Pity, she was enjoying she show. “Alright I get it, playtimes over. What do you want Maleficent? What under this damned barrier could be so important that you need to cash in on?”

“You and I both know Lord Hades that there are forces far older and far more powerful than this Godmother’s little trick. Deals, oaths, dept, magic sworn by magic will be repaid in turn. ” Maleficent raised herself slowly, taking small measured steps to where Hades stood shadowed by the cavern’s light. “As for what I want? That's simple, I want your name”

Name, she hissed out the word, the word that had churned and boiled somewhere deeper than her stomach and rose up her throat, that fell down her tongue and turned sharp and low against her teeth. The word that made her eyes flash with a power that no well intentioned Godmother or once cursed King could contain.

The word that made the Lord of the Dead, Hades himself, fall stumbling backwards to his knees. The shadow wrenched away from him in haste, revealing his wide eyes and- oh how she missed this- positively wreaked expression. If she was someone else she would say he was nervous, his face too numb to be fearful, but Maleficent knew better. He was terrified.

Pleas spilt from his lips like ambrosia in a clumsy hand. He was almost begging her now, with more fervor than he ever begged before--

( In times of old when the earth was freshly taken and the sky still red with titan’s blood, three brothers gathered to divide the cosmos between themselves. The youngest made his claim to the sky and took it’s child, the mighty thunderbolt, as his symbol. He gifted the sea to the middle brother who accepted it glady, but to the oldest he gave no pearl-rich land or magnificent heaven, but the burden of the damned and dead. The darkest corners of the world, where no light reached and the wild souls wandered aimlessly in the eternal darkness. His older brother objected, of course, and perhaps he even set aside his pride to grovel, but the youngest was unyielding. )

“Please Mali, don’t, not that I’ll do anything--”

( Once Ra fell sick from a clay snake bite, and called a council of every man and women and God to come and aid him, but they could do nothing. Then he called for Isis, for surely she would have the answers to his prayers. “What ever you need, I will provide” And so Isis said to the sun god Ra, ‘Great king of The Heavens and all we hold dear, the venom in your blood is much too strong, the only way I can heal you is with the knowledge of your Name’. So Ra listed off all of his titles and epithets, of which he had many, but Isis was not deterred. ‘My Lord and King, though those names are as grand and great as you are, they are not the one of which I refer to. If you wish to continue as yourself, ruler of the Gods, I will need your Rem to cure you’ said Isis and Ra knew she spoke the truth. Banishing the other medicine men and healers from the room he took Isis into his wings and bared to her the fifth of his soul, the name in which all his power sprang from. Isis took the name and healed Ra, feeling the universe realign with her at its helm, Goddess above Gods, of life and moon and medicine and magic. The fruits of her cunning rewarded hundredfold. And she smiled.)

“-- you don't want that old thing, I mean, what would you even do with my name anyway? It’s not like it would be of any use to you here”

“That, Your Majesty, is where you are wrong.” Maleficent slammed the end of her staff on top of the end of Hades’ robe, catching him in place as he tried to flinch backwards. She knelt before him, his back arched so completely he resembled more of a semicircle than a fallen God, his body so small here compared to hers. The long tendrils of her cloak sprawled themselves across the floor, their edges slithering like snakes, writhing and engulfing them, Hades was a cold star trapped amidst a sea of dark fabric.

“You asked me what could be so important to me that I would risk claiming my due of our agreement here, under this hell forsaken barrier. Why would I step into the limelight after years of isolation to rule an island of filth and trash” she pressed a single nail to his face tilting it up, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Because here is where my child will be born, and no blood of mine will be powerless while I still live to conquer and provide”

Her child, who was barely an weight in her arms, hungry for magic where there was none, hungry for food unrotten and drink unspoiled. If Maleficent was kinder she would crush it’s skull beneath her feet and spare it from a life full of pain and longing. Years of torment and clawing at it’s own skin spared in a moment’s decision.

(Her child, who could one day release their Mother from her prison, if they had will to do so.)

Maleficent had never been a kind person.

She did, however, on the seldom occlusion, know mercy and how to manipulate the unwilling. She could just rip his name from his chest, leave him broken and shivering on the cold stone floor. The thought was tempting, it really had been too long since she last had the chance to destroy someone so thoroughly, but she knew it would be better in the long run if she could get Hades to cooperate. Never let it be said she wasn’t a patient Mistress.

Leaning her weight forward she gingerly took one of Hades’ wrists in her hand, turning it over and carefully inspecting the thick band that now encircled it . This close she could feel the way it softly vibrated under her touch, the binding sigils carved so delicately and deep into the metal.

Her skin burned on contact, but you would never tell by her expression, eyes trained on the way Hades’ life force flowed. Faint traces of his magic traveling down his veins and funneling into the band, which would pulse slightly and constrict, the sigils would glow and hold, before loosening its too tight grip on its host. Then the cycle would continue anew.

It was one of the most brilliantly constructed and horrid devices Maleficent had ever laid her eyes on.

It was a work of art.

And as she read the runes she began to recognize what artist could have made such a beautiful thing.

“Do you know just how luck you are Lord Hades? While the rest of us villains must serve a penance that will span the rest of our days, you sit here with shackles holding only until you meet their requirements. I always wondered why Auradon would risk the order of the world just to fulfill their pallid sense of morality, and here my questions are answered. It seems the true nature of your punishment is far more poetic than a measly imprisonment, no, the true keys to your freedom lay in siring a child,”

A cold sense of realization dawned on Hades, “Hera” he whispered.

“How does the saying go again? An eye for an eye.” Maleficent pushed her nail deeper into the skin of his arm “A lost babe for a lost babe.”

Something inside Hades’ eyes broke at her words, and he begun laughing, freely, manic not maniacal, the laugh of a man who knew the entire cosmos was a joke and now he finally got the punchline. “Oh Hera!” He cried out, gathering the shattered pieces of himself and pulling them together.

He stood up from underneath her, fluid as smoke escaping from her grasp, as if his body was still atmos and ichor- not confined to rigid flesh and blood. ( A distant part of Maleficent imagines Hades, stumbling and impaling his head against a stalagmite as he has to relearn how to walk again, learn how to live in a body so forign yet familiar.) He did not offer to help her, and she made no move to rise, instead she remained sitting, her back ramrod straight and hands folded across her staff which rested on her lap.

Over the sounds of running water and the everpresent barking, Maleficent could hear the sounds of his brain work. Spinning gears within gears furiously trying to take in the new information and generate a more beneficial outcome for himself. “Alright, you want my name, you want power, you want little Maleficent Junior to grow up with magic, which I can’t blame you for. I want to get out of here and I want my wife not to kill me on my arrival, so I propose a solution that just might work for us both”

“Go on”

“ gift part of my name to the little tyke, giving them- and by extension you- power that not even this blasted barrier can suppress. That means that in the eyes of magic, I’m basically your baby’s daddy”

“And are you willing to uphold that responsibility? I have no need for a husband nor a housekeeper, but both dragons and fae are known for their possessiveness and of them I am both”

Hades didn't miss a blink, shark toothed smiled fixed back in place on his face “My magnificent Mistress of Misery from now until my chains are unfettered and I am called away to return to my Iron throne, I do swear to treat your little demonspawn as if they were born from the rotten fruit of my loins. Now, do we have an agreement?” Now he looked down at her, hand extended for her to shake. “Going once… going twice..”

Maleficent leapt forward, her hand digging deep into the weak flesh of his arm, she used to movementum to pull herself close to him, nose to nose, sharpened teeth to sharpened teeth, her horns haloing her head- two blackened crests protruding from her skull that reflected the dull blue light of the room. “Its a deal” she declared. Smiling viscously as she felt her eyes flare, not gold, but green, green as burning hellflame, fire in its purest form.

If this were anywhere else but The Isle of The Lost, thunder would crack at their declaration, a ring of light would maifest around their grip sealing their oath in color and magic. The air would ignite at their words. However, this was The Isle, and so the only illumination of fate’s rearrangement came from the flicker of light on Hades’ wrists as the runes surged, the taste of copper under Maleficent’s tongue, and the deep bone-seated feeling that something big will come. This was the stone whose ripple will cause the wave years down the line.

Maleficent hoped it would rise and drown the whole world.

She almost smiled at the thought.

---------------------------------------

“Huh”

“What?”

“You know when you said you had a baby, I kinda pictured- you know- a baby”

“I do hope you aren't talking bad about our child, it hasn't even hatched yet”

“Maleficent thats not a child, thats an egg”

“You think I would birth a infant mammal? Don’t be so crude, egg laying is a much more civilized method of reproduction”

“Wait does that make you a reptile? Oh sweet Zeus don’t tell me you are? What can you unhinge your jaw? Do you have a hemi--”

“Silence your tongue Lord Hades before I cut it out myself”

“Sorry sweetcheeks I couldn't resist”

“....”

“...sorry”

“Now traditionally Mother and Daughter would pass on a portion of their name until the time came where the Daughter earned to full title of Maleficent, usually by slaying their Mother and taking her name for herself. Until that day a middle name would serve as a placeholder to help differentiate them, a Mal Bertha or Mal Lamia or something of the sort. If you are giving up one of your titles, perhaps Mal Aidoneus would suffice?”

“Yeah, no”

“No?”

“Listen, Fairy G’s little parasite pocket is going to hone in on quote the name of the “The Mistress of All Evil” like a cyclopes at a half-off everything sunglass sale. You want this kid to have even a smidgen of a chance we gotta change it up a bit.”

“Well then Your Majesty I don’t suppose you have any better Ideas”

“........Malenthea”

“Hm?”

“Her name, it will be Malenthea”

“Then so mote it be”

“....”

“HOLY RHEA YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THE EGG WOULD EXPLODE--”

#disney descendants #descendants #fic #writing #my writing #maleficent #hades #Disney Hades #OC: Malenthea #Of Flame and Fire Au #descendants rewrite #descendants fic #Mal Bertha #mal descendants #fae Mal #dragon mal

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coolskinless · 4 years

Text

Between Pleasure and Pain

I was getting ready for our date night, even though I felt a little uncomfortable because it was that time of the month and my belly did not feel right. I usually never get cramps, but I do not know what it was with me tonight that I just did not feel good enough. So, I decided to call Lou and change the plans.

*On the phone with Lou*

Lou: Hey babe, what’s up?

Y/N: Hey babe, I don’t feel very good enough to go out tonight, can we just say in this time?

Lou: Omg, sure! Are you ok? What’s wrong? Do you need me to take you something? Do you need to go to a doctor? Tell me what to do, what do you need?

Lou sounded frenetic which made me giggle because of how adorable he is.

Y/N: Noo haha I’m fine, I just don’t feel comfortable enough to go out, maybe we can stay here tonight…order something…watch a movie?

Lou: Of course! Whatever you want, you got it. Are you sure you don’t need me to take you something? Medicine or…?

Y/N: Nah, I’m good, thank you babe, you’re very sweet.

Lou: Mmmkay, I’m on my way.

We hung up, and I just smiled looking at my phone, he´s just so sweet and attentive, he literally can’t be any more perfect. I put my phone down and start putting some more comfortable clothes because just the thought of putting on some jeans made my uterus rumble.

A few minutes passed and I heard a knock on the door and I immediately get happy butterflies in my stomach instead of angry wasps in my lower belly, so I drag my sorry but excited ass to the door and open up to see Lou holding a grocery bag up to his face. Just when I thought he could not be more perfect, he tops himself.

Lou: I did not know in what mood you might be in for, so I brought you everything.

He dumped the whole bag in the kitchen island, and he did bring me everything. Ice cream, instant noodles, strawberry milk, spicy chips, mini cakes, the whole ass store! I looked at him with grateful eyes and reached out my hands to cup his face.

Y/N: Thank you babe…

Then joined out lips in a gentle and warm kiss. His lips are so soft and plump, his hand grab me tenderly by my waist and pull me closer to him. I move my hands to the back of his neck and intensify our kiss. He really is the perfect man.

We break the kiss and look at each other smiling.

Y/N: So, what movie do you wanna watch?

Lou giggles

Lou: You pick the movie, first I wanna make my famous homemade instant noodles for my sick girl.

Half an hour went by and Lou finished making his so called “famous instant noodles”, lowkey they looked bomb, smelled spicy, lots of veggies and an egg, just how I liked it. I was grabbing my first bite, but as soon as I swallowed the spicy broth, my cramps started to act up again intensely, like Satan started to shake hands with my womb. So, I couldn’t help but to make a painful face with still the noodles in my mouth. Lou started to panic, as usual and came to my side of the island.

Lou: What is it!? You don’t like it!? Is it too spicy!? I’m so sorry babe! Spit it out, its ok! Tell me what’s wrong! What do I do!?

I smiled at him as I still chewed the food in my mouth, trying to look better so he would stop worrying. But the look on his face told my total opposite, he looked concerned af.

Y/N: I’m fine babe, its not the noodles, its just that time of the month and it hurts a bit.

Lou: Omg babe, why didn’t you tell me? I’m so sorry!

Lou apologized as he hugged me in the chair, putting one hand in my back, the other at the back of my head and resting me on his chest.

Y/N: Sorry for what? Its not your fault.

I smiled while looking at him

Lou: Still! I don’t like it when my baby is in pain.

Lou looked at me with those puppy dog eyes, and it just made me melt. I convinced him that I was fine after much insisting to go to the doctor lol. We finished our noodles, we talked and laughed about our day, this kind of distraction is just what I needed to make me feel better. Then we grabbed some more of the snacks Lou brought and moved to the couch. We started watching some movie while eating the snacks, but at some point, I feel asleep in his chest, my favorite place.

I was sleeping comfortably with the movie noises on the background when all of a sudden I feel a sharp pain in my lower belly that made me sit up abruptly scaring the shit out of Lou who was also falling asleep.

Lou: Babe, what’s wrong!? Are you okay!?

Y/N: Yeah, it’s just…

I couldn’t even finish my sentence, I just sat there holding my belly trying to make the pain away. Lou held me tight against him and surprisingly the pain went away almost immediately. I was happily surprised and looked at him in awe.

Y/N: It stopped…

Lou: It did!?

Y/N: Yeah, I guess it has something to do with the apartment being so cold and your body temperature being warm.

Lou: Okay, that settles it.

Lou got up, picked me up in his arms bridal style and started walking to my bedroom.

Y/N: What are you doing? Haha

Lou: We are going to bed

He said that with total confidence, and I was in shock because we´ve never been in bed together. But I couldn’t help but to look at his side profile and smile at him.

He tucked me into bed, went to put the unfinished groceries away, turn the TV off, to switch all the lights off so just the moonlight entered the room and crawled in next to me under the sheets. This was a next step to our relationship, but I was loving it. Just the two of us together, in bed, you could listen to our breathing, and just by feeling Lou´s warm body next to mine made me feel so much better.

The hours went by and I didn’t even notice when I fell asleep, but another sharp pain woke me up out or nowhere. I opened my eyes and saw Lou´s face get illuminated by the moonlight entering the dark room through the window. I felt a sense of peace just by looking at him sleep, so calm and beautiful. I wanted to keep admiring him, but a second wave of pain appeared like the one in the living room, making me move and moan a little, waking Lou up.

Lou: Babe, what’s wrong?

Lou´s groggy and confused voice next to me made me stop my complaining and look up at him because he highkey sounds very sexy when he just woke up. His roommates are very lucky guys.

Y/N: I’m fine…

I say out of breath, while I press on my lower belly trying to make the pain away. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows that he can’t do much. So, without saying anything, he just grabs me and pulls me close to him, again, my head in his chest, his arms wrapped around me, our legs intertwined, if my lower stomach wasn’t so uncomfortable I would say this is heaven.

Some minutes went by and the pain would come and go, mild, I can handle it. But it started getting worse to the point where I couldn’t keep still, I was moving and moaning and shaking. All I could do was hug Lou for some comfort.

Lou´s POV

It hurt my soul so see Y/N in pain, I couldn’t do much but to hold her and wait for her to feel better. But then something happened...

She was moaning, and moving her body against mine, I didn’t know what to do. She was like, asleep still, but in her discomfort, she couldn’t keep still. She was moaning and rubbing her body with mine, her legs went up and down on mine, she kept tilting her head back with her eyes closed, just enough of the moonlight hit her so I can see her features het enlightened in the most flattering way. I’ve never seen her this way, not that I haven’t imagined it, I actually think about her like this all the time but seeing her like this in real life is just so much better.

Little moans escape her slightly opened lips, making me go crazy, but I can’t do anything about it. Her arms keep moving back and forth at the back of my neck, and all I could think about was this is how she would look like if I was insider her.

Lou get your shit together…your girlfriend is in pain and you are here next to her just perverting yourself. You´re right…I should stop thinking, I should stop thinking about her breasts pressed to my chest, her hips pounding against mine, her breath against my ear, saying my name over and over again. How can I focus on making her feel better when she is turning around, and her ass is literally pressing on my cock??? I mean..I cant to much but hug her anyways, so I just hug her by her tiny waist and pull her even closer to me to feel her even better. She keeps moving and if I let myself go I can easily cum right now, but I keep my cool and just snuggle my face into the back of her neck and breathe in real deep. She smells amazing, a combination of her shampoo and Y/N, makes my blood boil in lust just like that. I run my hand through the side of her body making a perfect wave between her arm, her waist, and her hips, I cant believe that this is…like, she…and…I have no words to describe the effects that she has on me.

She turns around again, facing me and breaking my trance, she has her eyes open and is looking at me. I was breathless for a second because I didn’t know how long she was awake, if she felt me grow in my pants, maybe I made her feel uncomfortable by touching her in her sleep, I don’t want her to think that I don’t care about her feeling sick. I was lost in my thoughts when I feel Y/N lips against mine.

Y/N POV

I was half asleep and half awake, I was so uncomfortable, I couldn’t find a comfortable position to sleep in, the only thing that made me not lose my mind was Lou next to me holding me tight. I was moving nonstop in my sleep without realizing it when I felt it.

Lou was rock hard next to my thighs, pressing against them, me with still my eyes closed I kept them that way, I don’t want him to notice that I felt him and scare him away. I’ve always thought about Lou that way, we’ve been dating for two months and since we met, I’ve always wondered what’s he like in bed. We´ve never done much but make out on the couch, but this was different, he was rock hard, and I knew he wanted me. So, I just kept pretending that I was asleep in discomfort and kept moving, the only thing that wasn’t pretend was the pain, the cramps actually made me shake, I was just gonna keep my eyes closed while I ride the waves of pain and see how Lou reacts.

I turn around and purposely face my butt against his bulge, feeling grow harder. I don’t know if he is asleep anymore, but I don’t care, I keep moving slowly and little by little, so he doesn’t realize that I’m awake. But then I feel him trace my side with his hand, his slow steady hand drives me crazy, then he puts his face in the back of my hair and I feel him inhale and exhale, he is definitely not asleep anymore. So, I turn around and look at him wide awake, I stare at him for a few seconds and just see him look a little surprised, like waiting for me to do something, but all I can do is cup his face in my hands and press my lips against his.

I would love to continue this kiss and see what happens next, but unfortunately I’m on my period and we cant do anything about it, so I just kiss him softly and return to our original position and try to fall sleep again.

Lou´s POV

A few days have gone by since that night, and all I can think about is Y/N. Her body in the moonlight, her collarbone exposed, her thighs rubbing mine, her lips letting out little moans. I find myself distracted thinking about that in everything I do, while I’m cooking or eating, while I’m in the studio, with the guys, cleaning, or literally just laying awake at night thinking about her. The bathroom of our dorm has been very busy lately, not gonna lie, she is all I can think about. Its hurts that I can´t see her every day because of my schedule, but I gonna see her tonight and I cannot wait.

Y/N POV

A few days have gone by since that night, and all I can think about is Lou. I keep daydreaming of what it would be like to have him inside me, moaning in my ear, squeezing my flesh…ok that’s enough. I need to focus, because thanks to all these thoughts I have been washing a lot more of my underwear than any other clothes lately. I’m gonna see him tonight, and maybe who knows, maybe tonight is the night.

Y/N POV

Lou arrives late at night as per usual, he greats me with a kiss like always but it feels different this time, the kiss was longer and more passionate than usual, you know…those kisses that leave you breathing a little heavier after. And in general, you feel like there is a heavier mood around the room, like, dense, but I ignore it. We order dinner and start our nightly ritual of eating and watching a movie. While we have dinner, we talk about our day and just regular stuff, but with these glares he gives me, I finally figure out what this dense mood I feel is, its sexual tension. You can feel the sexual tension in the air like fog, this boy wants action tonight, and you know what? He´s gonna get it.

We finish our dinner and move to the couch to watch a movie; we start cuddling like usual, me slightly on top of him resting on his chest and his arms around me, but the dense fog of sexual tension is still there. I look up at him and smile looking for some clue, but he just gives me a side smile with a kiss on my forehead. So I look back at the TV and continue the movie, but then I feel his hand slowly lower from my upper back to my lower back where my skin is showing because of my crop top and I feel his thumb draw a little heart between my Venus’s dimples which send shivers all over my body. I look up at him and we stare at each other’s eyes for like 5 seconds looking for permission, and we join our lips on a profound kiss. My hands are around his neck and his hands are all around me, we continue kissing for a few minutes with hot and heavy breathing before I break the kiss to look straight into his eyes again and tell him:

Y/N: Lou…can you make love to me tonight?

Lou´s pupils dilate with hunger and just nods lightly before joining his lips with mine once again. He stands up with me on top of him and we stumble across the room on the way to my bed while his hands rumble across my body in desperation. Oh my god, this is finally happening.

The back of my knees feel the edge of the bed and Lou lays on top of me as we continue kissing frantically. For a second Lou break the kiss and with heavy breathing he looks at me asks:

Lou: Are you sure you wanna do this?

Y/N: Im sure…

And I pull him back to me kissing him anxiously, I run my tongue lightly through his bottom lip and bite it softly, making him let out a little grunt from the back of his throat. Which was the drop that spilled the glass, I was soaking wet and ready for him.

The make out session became a little more rough, I could feel ALL the weight of his body all over me and then some…I wrapped my legs around his waist pulling his pelvis in between my legs and feeling his bulge press against me as he starts to grind driving me crazy making me moan out loud. His hands move up to my hair and his lips move down to my neck, down my cleavage, placing wet kisses all over my chest. He sit up a bit to lift my shit off and down a bit to take my bottoms too, after he strips me off my clothes he stays at the edge of the bed just staring, and I start to feel shy and he notices.

Lou: You´re perfect

He leans down on me again kissing me painfully slow from my stomach up to my now very exposed breasts. You could se my hard nipples through the lace of the bra, and he is just over them basically breathing on them, he places his mouth over my nipple and starts playing with it over the fabric making me feel electricity. I tilt my head back to the bed and just enjoy the moment, but then he starts softly biting on my nub making me moan and squirm of pleasure. I put my hand on the back of his head to pull him closer to me at the same time he bites a little bit harder making me pull a fistful of his hair, which he moans to the motion. At this point I’m kind surprised because this boy lowkey kinky, and I live for it.

He leads the kisses downtown and continues kissing me over the wet fabric of the underwear, he runs his hands along my legs until he reaches the sides of my panties to pull them down. Instinctively I try to close my legs on his face, but he stops them by putting his palms on both my knees and spreading them wide open.

Lou: Oh my god, you´re perfect, you´re so wet

He starts sliding his hands through the outside of my thighs as he starts going down on me, slowly licking, and caressing my pussy. Giving kitten lick on my clit making me whimper, slowly making his lick bigger and bigger on my clit warming me up for the main event.

Y/N: Oh my god Lou!

I start moaning and arching my back as he is sucking at my clit like as if it was a tiny cherry flavored lollipop. My moaning just encouraged him more to keep going because he wasn’t stopping anytime soon. He grabs me by the hips and pulls me closer to his face to the point my legs are at his back and his mouth is at my entrance inserting his tongue in and out scooping my juices out for him as I’m curving my back in ecstasy. I’m moaning to loud at this point, I have to cover my mouth, but I feel a hand from underneath uncovering my hand from my mouth.

Lou: Don´t stop, I love hearing you scream for me

He picks up the pace and its getting me closer, I’m a moaning mess, my body was reacting by its own, I wasn’t in control any more, was I ever in control with Lou? I start to feel my stomach knot up, you feel yourself getting tighter and tighter, your legs start to shake and close on Lou´s face, but he keeps them open with his arms as you cum on his mouth, drinking everything from you.

Lou: Oh my god, you taste delicious

Lou incorporated himself and started to take his clothes off right in front of me, I was already a breathless mess by just climaxing, now seeing him strip is another type of high. He starts to take off his shirt and you´re blown away just like the day you saw him for the first time, he was just perfection. Then he proceeds to take off his pants to release his hard cock from his boxers, he starts to stroke it as he looks at me, and I can see his jaw clench and his arm muscles tense and release with every stroke.

Lou: You like what you see?

He asks with a smirk on his face as I, apparently, was staring at IT all this time. I just couldn’t stop imagining how his size was just perfect to stretch me open and fill every bit of my insides.

Y/N: I love what I’m seeing…

I said trying to be smooth. He smirk again and starts to crawl over me again, looking straight into my eyes, he positions himself right over me but a few inches away, so I move my hips a little closer to have him right at my entrance. I started to open my mouth to say something, but he started to enter in me before I could say anything, what was I gonna say anyways? Who know? All I knew was that Lou was finally inside me, and without breaking eye contact he started thrusting in an out of me. I move my legs around his waist to give him more access, I want to feel all of him, with every thrust I can feel him stretching me open, and all of a sudden he stops and rests his head on my neck, I was confused and wanted to ask him to please keep moving, but I realized, he was already close, if I asked him to keep moving he was gonna cum and this was gonna be over very soon, so I just cupped him by his cheeks and started kissing him with all the love I have for him.

His breathing intensified as he is trying not to move, but just feeling his cock throb inside me made me quiver, and I cant stand it any longer, I just need him to move and fuck the shit out of me.

Y/N: Lou…please…move

Lou starts to move faster and faster each time, you can hear him moan in your ear, it’s like hearing an angel sing with a very deep voice, I want more of that, so I start pushing my hips at his compass with every thrust.

Y/N: Oh my god Lou, it feels amazing!

I cry out, with every thrust you feel a spark starting to form in the pit of your stomach.

Lou: You´re amazing baby, you feel so amazing, taking me all in, swallowing… me… all… in…

His thrust started to slow down, and I feel him getting harder and bigger inside of me as I start to get tighter around him. He buries his face in my neck again, occasionally biting and sucking at my soft skin, probably gonna have marks later.

Y/N: L…Lou…i´m gonna…

Lou: I know baby I know, you´re getting so tight, cum for me

I tried to warn him, but I feel myself snapping into a million pieces. He picks up the pace and starts circling his thumb around my clit, wrapping my arms around his neck, clinging onto him as hard as I can, I feel my core bursting making me moan like crazy as I’m seeing his name in starts.

Lou: FUUCK!

He moans as he comes with me, riding my orgasm like a wave. He stays inside me while I continue shaking, he moves some hair from my face and kisses me tiredly but passionately. He pulls out gently and you can feel the your juices combined pour out of you, he lays next to me and pulls me onto his chest, laying on top of him he wraps us in the blanket, hugging him I can get a scent of his cologne and his sweat, the perfect combination to make my endorphins act up.

Lou: Y/N, I love you

Y/N: I love you too

#vav #vav smut #vav lou #vav ziu #vav jacob #vav st van #vav ace #vav ayno #vav baron #vav imagines #vav scenarios #vav reactions

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craftypeaceturtle · 3 years

Text

Way Too Adult

Summary: Thomas is having... another crisis. Oh, this is going to become a pattern isn’t it? Thankfully, Patton finds him and helps to ease him into the world of... adultery adulthood.

Note: Part two of Sanders Sides retold. Don’t need to read part one, it’s literally Sanders Sides retold as university students!

Previous Episode --- Next Episode!

He was putting it off. He knew very well that he was putting it off. But then again he was really good at putting things off. Hell this was the most time ever he had spent on his lectures. His notes were less scrawled than usual and actually highlighted facts and key methods. Who knew spending more time studying could result in better notes... Sighing very loudly with his eyes screwed shut, he got up from the chair and slumped over to the kitchen. No use putting it off any more.

Patton was sitting there already while scrolling through his phone with a bored expression and perked up at him. Thomas froze. Patton smiled awkwardly before his brow naturally quirked up.

“Hi Thom-”

“Yes I have worn this shirt for the entire week! Let’s move on!”

Thomas blushed violently and threw himself into his cupboard. He stared deeply into the cupboard. Yep, nothing had changed. But also he didn’t really need to go shopping. It was fairly full but yet it always like he was missing a part for every dinner. He had pasta but no sauces. He had a jar of curry sauce with no rice. Curry pasta? Maybe that was a meal? He had tins of tuna but no mayonnaise or really anything else. There was a weird stain that his eyes kept flicking to. It was a splatter of green.

“...and then the house caught on fire and everyone exploded. It was really intense.”

“Wha?” Thomas gawked.

“It’s okay Thomas,” Patton giggled it off, “You alright? You’re usually not this distracted.”

“Yeah, sorry. As per usual, I think I’ve accidentally agreed to do something that I absolutely can’t do.”

“The YouTube thing again?”

“Hah, not this time,” Thomas frowned and opened his cupboards again. Yep, nothing has changed. Yet his eyes searched as if he was seeing again for the first time ever.

“Okay, promise not to judge,” Thomas joked but Patton nodded like he was being trusted with the secrets of the universe, “You know I’m going home for the weekend? Well... I shall be the only one of the four brothers there. So naturally, my dad has asked me to help cook a dinner. He thinks university has actually turned me into a responsible adult or something! Here’s the thing though... I still don’t really know how to cook.”

“Okay,” Patton cracked his knuckles menacingly, “I’ve had enough of this! Do you know how often you say you can’t cook? Lot’s of times! Do you know how often you try to learn how to cook? Zero times.”

Patton gently bumped into him so he could peer into his cupboard himself. He must’ve felt the same though as he tutted and started shuffling through the disorganised stacked cupboard. “Not true! There was that one time a few months ago when... you’re right. It’s already a bad sign that I have to go back that far,” Thomas mumbled.

“Thomas you live off microwavable meals and takeout. It can’t be good for you! I’m sure Logan would be able to lecture you on exactly how bad it is. But I’ll save you the time! C’mon I can help you,” Patton smiled as he finally untucked from the cupboard. Dumping some different ingredients on the work surface, he winked before plucking Thomas’ open bag of pasta.

“No wonder you’re the dad friend,” Thomas quietly laughed before standing lamely in front of the pile.

“Well, just think of me as your sense of morality really firing back at you with a vengeance today!”

Patton stood with his hands on his hips with a bright smile while Thomas rocked back in his heels. There was a bag of open flour, milk, butter and pasta. “Right, do you know what a roux sauce is?”

“Noooooo,” Thomas finally wailed and flopped on to the counter. Patton laughed before trying to pull him back up, “This is not my day today...”

“It’ll be okay! It’s the easiest thing ever! It’s just a really simple pasta sauce that you can then add stuff to if you’re feeling saucy!” Patton winked again while Thomas tried to hide his smile, “Cheese is an obvious choice but you could add garlic and onion and all sorts. I know pasta in a sauce doesn’t sound very fancy but trust me. People think you’re some incredible amazing chef if you make you’re own pasta sauce. Even if it’s only three ingredients!”

Thomas simply smiled in response and pulled himself up dramatically. He pulled out his kinda dodgy scales and turned to Patton with an expectant glance. Patton turned on the hob before relaying “It’s really simple. 50g of butter and 50g of flour. Then 500ml of milk! All 5s!”

“How do you even remember that? Do you just know recipes off the top of your head?” Thomas gasped, stars shining in his eyes.

“Well, I’m not lying Thomas. It really is simple. Once you do it... even twice then you just remember it off the top of your head.”

They settled into measuring the ingredients with Patton occasionally perking up as he gave feedback. “Now we’re going to gently boil the milk. Gently, so at a low heat. At this point you could add all those fancy ingredients like garlic or onions in the milk but we’re keeping things easy! See, we’re just a couple of adults mak-”

“AAH!”

“What!” Patton suddenly lurched forward. Thinking Thomas had somehow managed to burn himself by just pouring the milk in the pan.

“Why you got to say that!” Thomas joked but his heart had sped up. He wasn’t an adult. He couldn’t be an adult.

“What? Adult?”

“Ah, yes! That’s the scary word!”

“No it’s not! We’re both adults here! I mean you’ve moved out of your parents and going further into your education. You can probably do more adult stuff than you realise. Like... can you change the oil in your car?”

Thomas almost looked hopeful for a second but deflated at that, “No.”

“Can you pay your rent on your own?”

“Oh no! I still phone up my dad!”

“Well how about removing bugs from your bedroom?” Patton asked as he peered into the pan to check the milk but he looked up once Thomas didn’t respond. Thomas was standing there, arms folded, with a sarcastic look, “Yeah that’s a no...”

“Oh what am I going to do!” Thomas cried out and flopped on to the worksurface again, making sure he didn’t knock anything over.

“Well it’s all in baby steps, like everything you’ve learned in life!” Patton smiled and knocked his shoulder again.

Once the milk was boiling, they then realised that they hadn’t even started cooking the pasta (and after Thomas threw out another dramatic wail) they started another pot. They fell into a peaceful silence. Thomas added the rest of the ingredients slowly, as per Patton’s instructions, and he began to loosen up. This was easy. Three ingredients for a nice tasting sauce. He wasn’t entirely sure whether pasta in a sauce was good enough for his parents but he also knew that if he saw Patton making his own sauce then he’d be absolutely blown away. Maybe it was about time that he finally started to take an interest in cooking. He couldn’t even begin to count the amount of times he saw Logan cooking lasagne or some casserole and felt immediately jealous as he ate his lukewarm microwavable meat dinner. He chuckled without thinking, causing Patton to smile at him. “I treat the stove in the kitchen like a friend that I’ve been neglecting.”

“Nah, you’re okay!”

“Hey stove! Uh hi! Um... yeah I’m doing alright... Yeah. Yeah still not planning to cook. Anyway bye stove!” Thomas joked along and acted along with the oven that was humming loudly. Patton chuckled at him but he also couldn’t help but think that it rang a little bit true.

“C’mon Thomas! You didn’t always know to do adultery things, and they came about because you took the time to learn. You can learn from your parents and the internet and I’m always here to help anyway I can. All of us are!” Patton smiled widely while he drained the cooked pasta.

“Yeah I guess, adul- wait what?”

“Yeah adultery. It’s not as hard as you think!”

“Wait that’s not a thing!”

“Really? I thought that was a thing?” Patton frowned, but his mind came up completely empty. Adultery was the word! Right? It had adult in the name.

“Oh it’s a thing but not that thing!”

“Oh I’m too dyslexic to be a teacher, cooking or otherwise” Patton laughed it off.

“I think the word you’re looking for is adulthood,” Thomas corrected and Patton nodded before making him mix in the sauce.

It was a weird moment serving up the pasta. It felt like it should be a really boring plain dish but, still, Thomas felt his chest swelling with pride. It was just boring pasta in a white sauce with some maybe stale cheese on top. The plate was chipped already. It should be boring. But both of them took a bite and immediately started squealing over how well it turned out. Surely that was good enough for his parents! “Aww let yourself celebrate a little Thomas! You did it!” Patton cheered while spinning around in a little jig.

“It was only three ingredients and you just mix them all at once. It’s not anything...” He paused once he was hit with the full power of Patton’s menacing dad glare, “But it is pretty good.”

And that was good enough for now.

#sanders sides #My writing #thomas sanders #character thomas #patton sanders #fluffy #Sanders Sides Retold #oneshot #ts patton

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spiderman-homecomeme · 4 years

Text

day six - off the record

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

A/N: DAY SIX!! AHHHH I can’t believe we’re here already and that tomorrow’s the last day. It’s been so fun seeing what everyone’s been posting, and I am so excited for tomorrow and sunday when I can finally be free to read ALL OF THEM AH

This fic is going to be a short little multi-chap journalist au! It was originally going to be just one long one shot, but then I changed my mind lol

Thanks again @spideychelleweek!!

Read here or on AO3

The anger Michelle feels right in this moment is no stranger to her.

It’s boiling hot, bubbling just under the surface of her skin, and she hides it under a thinning veil of nonchalance. She walks with purpose down the hall, far away from Mr. Jameson’s office, her footsteps echoing sharply.

The day had started out like any other, boring, uneventful, still a chance for it not to turn into a shitstorm. After writing her most successful article to date for the Daily Bugle’s website—one concerning a certain masked vigilante-slash-menace and his fight with a one Aleksei Systevich and the million dollars of damage that was brought onto Rockefeller Center as a result of said fight—Michelle had assumed that the hundreds of thousands of hits and the out pour of response from the readers, that she would be able to move on.

That she wouldn’t be stuck in this Groundhog Day time-loop of writing article after article about the dumb webhead.

Normally, hearing that the website was doing so well might make her happy. She might celebrate that every front page piece of writing is hers, her name under every article right at the top. Then again, the only reason they’re doing so well, and the only reason she’s consistently getting the top spot, is by slandering some idiot’s image.

Or rather, in this case, libeling some idiot’s image.

This job was supposed to be a stepping stone for something else, something better. Something that would launch her into the higher world of journalism. There’s this underlying feeling, one that tells her that this is only temporary. That this can lead to bigger and better things.

Though, part of her doesn’t think spending precious time writing sensationalized, gotcha-pieces is what’s going to help her.

But Jameson had said otherwise. He said that this was exactly what the people wanted, not the boring political think-pieces that she wanted to write about. The people want drama, he’d said. They want to be angry, he’d said IN ALL CAPS, his seemingly permanent speaking voice. He had turned her down when she’d asked if she could write something else, almost immediately, and instead, emailed her yet another folder of Spider-Man pictures that Peter Parker had sent him earlier.

God. Peter Parker.

Just thinking the name makes the burning anger within her flare; makes her stomach twist into stinging knots. Her jaw clenches as she thinks about how this is all technically his fault. Sure, she could very well be forced into writing the articles without the pictures, but apparently, it’s the pictures and her punny, scathing titles that grab the reader’s attention. It all really took off when they got that first up-close-and-personal shot.

And then, come to think of it—though she’s not sure how or why Parker knows Spider-Man, and frankly she doesn’t care to know—why on earth would one of “Earth’s Mightiest (ha) Heroes” keep letting this guy take his pictures if he’s just giving them to the news site that’s going to keep roasting him alive? It didn’t make a lick of sense. And if it’s just a matter of ignorance, how could he possibly not realize that was going on?

Something’s not adding up.

But then again, she doesn’t have time to follow that suspicion. Apparently, she’s got another article to write. Due by the Monday of next week, eight o’ clock in the morning on the dot in Jameson’s inbox.

She has the rest of this Friday evening and a whole weekend.

Closing her eyes, setting her jaw, she comes to the elevator, her hand just missing the button in her haste. The faint, slightly-off-pitch ding from the door opening forces her eyes open again, and truly, she’d rather just close them again and wait for the next one than get in.

Right in front of her, eyes widening a fraction in surprise before narrowing ever so slightly, is who she considers might the actual devil himself.

Peter Parker stares at her a moment before quickly ripping his gaze away. “Evening, Ms. Jones.” He says, mostly out of what she assumes is an attempt at being polite, as he stares down at his shoes.

She decides it’s not worth waiting, wanting to just go home and get this damn article over with so she can go on to write the next. And the next. And the next.

“Evening,” she replies with a curt nod, responding not because she wants the last word—it’s nothing like that at all—but simply out of the desire not to be perceived as rude.

He stands there, shifting on his feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see his thumb tapping rhythmically against the strap of his messenger bag as he glances up at the ceiling. It’s something so quiet, yet as far as she’s concerned, it brings the same effect as nails on a chalkboard to her ears.

“Heading home?” He asks after a crushing beat, starting to reach for the buttons along the wall to close the door.

“Yep,” Is her one word reply, and she leaves it at that, emphasizing the p with a final pop.

Michelle doesn’t hear any response, and sees him give a single nod when she passes a fleeting side-eyed glance. They both stare straight ahead as the doors close in front of them. The elevator kicks to life, beginning the long downward descent to the ground floor. Peter clears his throat, once again a noise that grates on her ears.

The air in the small box is thick. Heavy. Though she can’t see his face, and though he may try and hide it behind a forced smile, she knows the same disdain is there. And how could it not be? He’s clearly friends with the man she’s been writing about, being his photographer and what not, and it would explain the withering glares he throws at her after each new article is released when he thinks she’s not looking.

It’s not as if she’s watching him, though. It’s nothing like that. She’s merely being observant.

And besides, she couldn’t care less how he actually feels about her behind the heated stares and the dramatic clenches of his jaw. It’s not her problem. It’s not something she needs to concern herself with.

Peter Parker is the least of her worries.

In her peripheral vision, she sees him rock back on his heels, looking down at his watch. He blows out a harsh puff of air, shaking his head.

God, he’s thinking so loud, she wishes she could tell him to shut the hell up.

“Got a long weekend?” He asks out of the blue, shattering the brick wall of silence between them. There’s a slight pointedness to his question, and she swears there’s a hint of humor in his tone as if he knows all about this assignment she’s just been given. He knows damn well that he’s the reason she’s so miserable.

For a moment, she doesn’t answer. Perhaps she can pretend she hasn’t heard him. “Nope.” Again, she gives the single-word answer, nothing more. His attempt at conversation just to seem polite is laughable.

Whether or not he’s satisfied with her answer, she doesn’t bother finding out, and she doesn’t care. The door opens with another ding, and she’s out before he can make any other sad attempt.

“Okay, Grumpy,” Ned says as he passes a beer to his best friend across the table.

Peter looks up at him, his lips pulled into a frown. “Grumpy? What are you talking about?”

“We’re really gonna do this right now?”

“Do what?” Peter’s brow pinches together as his head jerks back in surprise. “I’m fine.”

Ned gives him a pointed look.

A beat passes before Peter finally relents, sinking back against the booth in the crowded bar. “It’s Michelle. From work.”

“I’m aware of who Michelle is, yes,” Ned gives a slow nod.

Peter shakes his head, leaning forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “It’s just—I know she’s writing another article about me—about Spider-Man. And I guess I get that it’s her job and all, but… You’d think she’d turn it down after the first dozen, you know? Like, yeah, we get it. New York gets it. Spidey’s a menace. All the help he does actually causes a lot of damage. Sure, I could probably stop giving Jameson the pictures, but... I need this job. And... And I don’t think that’d actually help.”

Ned nods slowly, listening to his friend rant.

“And—and, yeah, maybe she’s writing all this shit to please Jameson, and maybe she doesn’t actually believe anything she writes but… why keep doing it?”

“Maybe he won’t let her?” Ned suggests.

“Nah.” Peter waves that idea off. “Jameson worships the ground she walks on. She can do no wrong in his eyes apparently. Meanwhile, I give him amazing shots of Spider-Man that he can just have her completely shit on, and I do it all without complaining.”

Again, Ned gives him a pointed, questioning look.

“This is different!”

“Uh-huh.” Ned’s lips press together into a thin line as he stares at his beer in contemplation. Finally, after a moment, he speaks. “Did you ever think about… asking her to stop writing them?”

Peter frowns, brow furrowing. “Asking her? Absolutely not. She’d say no. No—she wouldn’t even let me ask. She seems to hate me for some reason? Like—” He pauses, taking a breath. “Today. In the elevator. I was trying to be nice to her. Trying to be polite. I tried to make conversation with her and she just blew me off.” He scoffs, taking a swig of his beer. “And besides, if I ask her to stop writing those articles about Spider-Man, she’s gonna find out I’m Spider-Man.”

Ned purses his lips, nodding solemnly. “I mean,” he takes a drink of his beer. “Maybe if she didn’t hate you, you could ask.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know why she hates me. That’s the problem.”

“Dude, I doubt you’ll ever find out why if you don’t talk to her.”

“Did you not hear me?” Peter asks, exasperated. “I tried talking to her.”

“Well, maybe don’t start with talking,” Ned continues. “If she hates your guts like you say she does, you can’t just walk up to her all ‘oh, hi Ms. Jones! How’s your day?’” Ned shrugs. “I guess what I’m saying is… just be… friendly? Be yourself. Don’t… try so hard. To her, it’s probably coming across as fake.”

Peter sits back again, mouth set in deep thought.

“You’re a great guy, Peter,” Ned says genuinely. “And my best friend. She’ll see that if you just… don’t be a dick.”

At that, Peter laughs for the first time that night. “Thanks, Ned.” In spite of his sour mood, the small grin that forms on his face stays.

“No problem, man,” Ned shrugs. “So, movies this weekend…”

As Ned continues, Peter picks at his thumb, twiddling his fingers, contemplating. As much as he hates to admit it, his best friend is right. He’s not going to get anywhere with Michelle if she keeps hating him, and even if he might not understand why, he needs to at least make an effort to not fuel that fire with whatever the hell he does that bothers her.

No, if he wants those articles of Spider-Man to stop one) he should stop supplying pictures for Jameson and maybe try something else, and two) become friends with her and just ask. He knows it’s not going to be easy, but at this point, he’s willing to try anything.

And as his friend is talking, he can see the memory from earlier today, the one of her steely glare that she thought he couldn’t see as she stormed out of the elevator. The way her eyes had made his stomach turn and flip, his face growing unbearably hot.

God, this is gonna be hard.

Michelle can barely hear Betty’s voice from the kitchen asking whether or not she wanted the chardonnay or the riesling over the sound of her furious typing. It’s been only three hours since she got home, and she’s already flying through this article.

Truly, it’s not difficult writing, the scathing libel. It takes skill, sure, but this has never felt like something she put one-hundred percent into. Though, now, as she’s begun to run out of different insults and turns of phrase to throw at this hero, she’s beginning to reconsider her original judgement.

“Here.”

Betty’s voice suddenly close by—accompanied by the sound of a wine glass clacking onto the coffee table—startles her out of her writing trance.

“Got you the riesling.” Betty throws a soft smile before sitting herself on the other side of the couch.

Michelle returns the expression, though it takes some effort, before reaching for her drink. “Thanks,” she mutters before taking a sip.

“Anytime,” Betty grins again. “Jameson got you writing another one?”

Michelle glances down at her laptop before running a stressed hand through her hair. “Yeah. Yeah he is.”

“Did you—”

“—Yes. I asked him. Again. Today.” Michelle answers before Betty can even finish the question. “And, as usual. He said no. Apparently, the internet doesn’t care about things that are actually important.”

Betty cringes, pulling her legs up under her. “Sorry.”

Michelle lets out a half-hearted laugh. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not. But what’s one more, right?” She shrugs. “At this point, I’d have to find something bigger than Spider-Man to get the masses all up in arms.”

Betty weighs that statement, squinting one eye. “What’s bigger than Spider-Man?”

“The Avengers, probably,” Michelle answers easily. “I don’t know. Jameson really hates Spider-Man. Like really hates him. Probably more than he hates his wife, I’m guessing. If I wanna stop writing about Spider-Man, I have to write the most sensational, stupid, dramatic article ever written.”

At that, Betty gives a half-smile, before her eyes go wide, a light bulb appearing above her head.

“What?” Michelle asks warily.

“What if you found out who he really is?”

“Who? Spider-Man?”

“Spider-Man.”

It’s Michelle’s turn to be skeptical. “You really think I can figure that out?”

Betty gives her a deadpan stare. “Please, you know you can.”

Michelle looks down at her hands. “I mean, yeah. I probably could. Eventually. But—” She tilts her head from side to side. She opens her mouth to continue before clamping her mouth shut, sitting straight up. “Peter Parker knows Spider-Man.”

“Yeah, he’s the guy who gets all the pictures, right?”

“Right.” Michelle puts her laptop on the couch, standing up slowly. “If I can get him to introduce me, and then interview Spidey, I could definitely figure it out.”

“But you guys hate each other,” Betty points out.

“Well… Yeah, but—” Michelle starts pacing. “Maybe if I were friends with him, or like… just vaguely rude acquaintances that are on relatively good terms, then maybe—maybe it could work?”

Betty’s lips twist thoughtfully as she watches her friend. “I mean, maybe. But MJ—” she cuts herself off. “If you’re gonna try and be friends with him…” She pauses. “You’re gonna have to be nice to him.”

Michelle stares, deadpan, at her friend, unimpressed with the light teasing. “Yeah. I know. But—” She sighs. “It’s not permanent. As soon as I get that interview, we can go back to hating each other. It’s perfect.”

If all it took was being nice and polite, genuinely, then Michelle could certainly do it. No problem. She’ll kick this off right. She’ll show up at his office on Monday with coffee after she turns in this next article, they’ll talk things out, it’ll be great. Fast friends.

Or, as she’d much prefer, vaguely rude acquaintances that are on relatively good terms.

No, this wasn’t as hard as Betty was making it out to be. Michelle could be mature. She could make and enemy into a friend. Plus, she’s seen Peter when he’s not interacting with her. He smiles a lot, and when he laughs, the corners of his eyes wrinkle warmly. He’s always happy to joke with other coworkers. Always helping out with other projects.

Just a few things she’s observed about him.

Other than him being an absolute dick.

“You really think it’ll be that easy?” Betty asks, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Michelle smirks, taking her wine glass in hand and taking a slow sip.

“I really do.”

#spideychelle #spideychelleweek2k20 #peter parker #michelle jones #enemies to lovers #fic #multi-chap

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perenlop · 4 years

Note

Iroh and Ty Lee?

iroh

do I like them: YES YES YES

5 good qualities:

-he’s just... he’s just so KIND oh my god i would love to have him as my uncle... hes just so nice...

-he has a really good backstory and arc like i think rn hes the only version of the trope where like hes clearly done awful things but regret them his entire life and actually got his shit together, did better, and strived to send a better message to his nephew and like yes he rightfully faces consequences for his actions and its just... man people trying to recreate this in their own shows just dont get it man

-i love how hes part of an epic old man group thats so fun

-his relationship with zuko... how he saw him as his son and wanted to protect him from his dad after his own son died... their scene in the finale... my whole heart

-i love how hes one of the characters who just has his shit together

3 bad qualities:

-his attack on ba sing se. even if i think hes well written he is still a war criminal and we still gotta talk about that

-im sad we didnt really get more focus on him i know hes not a main but i wish we saw more of his development

-i cant think of a third one i love him

favourite episode/etc: i loved that episode where he befriended toph it was so funny and ironic but still very adorable

otp: nah

brotp: does him and zuko like count here idk. def him and toph though they have a nice intergenerational friendship...

ot3: nah

notp: i cant really see him with anyone like the options are the other members of the white lotus and i just cant see him with a romantic dynamic with any of them.

best quote: “I was never angry with you. I was just afraid that you had lost your way.”

head canon: he has a memorial in his tea shop dedicated to ursa and lu ten

ty lee

do I like them: yeah!! shes very cool definitely my favorite of azula’s squad

5 good qualities:

-adorable

-sweet

-i love her little backstory

-i LOVE how she joins the kyoshi warriors

-god damn her fighting style is GOOD

3 bad qualities:

-i cant think of any she’s good

favourite episode/etc: the boiling rock, go queen stick up for your friend!!

otp: ngl she and mai are cute...

brotp: she and suki i imagine theyre gonna be very cool now!!

ot3: nah

notp: her and azula... i heard its a thing ig but azula literally threatened and intimidated her into the group cmon

best quote: "I Joined The Circus Because I Was Scared Of Spending The Rest Of My Life As Part Of A Matched Set. At Least I'm Different Now."

head canon: she sometimes uses the technique she does for chi blocking to help her friends destress by hitting their pressure points. sometimes it goes well sometimes it doesnt.

#atla spoilers #mail #pink-canine

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goddessofthundathighs · 5 years

Text

DISTRACTION

Just a little filth based off of this post because I feel like I’ve been neglecting my lovelies.

_____________________________________________

“Bro, what the fuck?” Erik yelled angrily into the headset. He’d just returned from a two-month long mission in Colombia and all he wanted to do was relax with a nice game of Battlefield 4. He checked the time on his kimoyo beads. He knew the Princess would be home soon so he removed the headset from one of his ears to listen out for her.

It had been four months since the couple had last had sex, given both of their busy schedules, and Hennessy was more than a little needy. When she came home from work, she noticed his boots and duffle bag laid next to the front door.

“The fuckum?” She paused looking around. “I know this nigga didn't...” she complained as she put away her things and made her way to the game room.

Her husband’s dark brown eyes squinted as he concentrated on the screen, his fingers tapping the controller vigorously. The voices of middle-aged men shouting in his ear made him grumble for what had seemed like the millionth time. Though she was grateful that he still kept in touch with his battles from his time in JSOC, she hated how they sometimes kept him away from her for trivial things. As he reached the end of a heated battle, he heard the light footsteps of his wife come to the door.

“Well hello to you too,” her tiny voice rang out over the loud explosions and gunshots on the TV. He could practically hear her folding her arms.

“Oh hey babe,” He called as he glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his gaze back to the TV. Who knew that one simple phrase could make her blood boil the way it did.

“How long have you been back?”

“Couple hours,” he responded, clearly still distracted by the video game.

“And you didn’t think to —,” her voice trailed off as her anger rose. Typically he made sure to stop by her office when he returned from a mission, but today was different. Today he chose to engage in an online video game battle instead of making an effort to spend time with her.

“Sorry babe,” he grunted as he restarted the game.

“Nah, you good,” she replied as she headed for the stairs. Bratty Hennessy was in full effect and by the time she was done, Battlefield 4 would be the last thing on Erik’s mind.

—————————

Fifteen minutes passed before she reappeared in the doorway of the game room.

“How long are you gonna be down here?”

“I don’t know Princess, why wassup?” He asked as he finished one of the game’s missions.

“Oh I don’t know, I haven’t seen you in two months, haven’t touched you in four. Get where I’m going with this?”

“Yeah, I get it baby. Gimme like 10 minutes and I’m all yours, I promise.”

“10 MINUTES?! NIGGA?!” she screamed exasperatedly.

“Okay, okay, 6 minutes,” he responded as he went back to angrily tapping the buttons on the controller.

“Fine,” she pouted as she walked over to the stereo system.

The sounds of Booty by Blac Youngsta filled the game room as the Princess distracted herself. Erik’s head began to nod to the beat as she bounced around the room.

Girl, I wanna see you twerk

I'll throw a lil' money if you twerk

I don't really think you can twerk

(Toot toot) twerk

If you broke, go to work

Make that big booty twerk

(Toot toot)

Can I touch that booty?

That booty, that big old booty?

Shake that booty, can I lay on the booty?

Mike Tyson on the booty

“Babe, C'mon now.. Move…”

He was so focused on the game that he hadn’t noticed his curvaceous wife’s attire. She’d traded her tan flounce jumpsuit for a navy two-piece lingerie set with a matching see through robe. As the song continued on and her best friend’s verse came on, the tiny princess decided to kick it up a notch.

Yeah, smack it up, flip it, rub it down, BBD

Yeah, I know you heard the news about that BBC

Yeah, greatest in that box, RIP Ali

Mmm, she say she love my kids, taste my legacy

Ooh, she go stupid, I'm no Cupid, I don't cuff her, I can't lose it

What she say I'm sleepin' on her, I just said she just caught me snoozin'...

As Trey continued to rap, Hennessy purposely placed her body in Erik’s line of vision and began throwing her ass like she had entered a twerk contest.

“Hennessy I said —,” his sentence was cut off as his eyes lifted to fully take in her presence. “Gahdamn,” he groaned as he reached out to move the fabric of the robe, giving him an unobstructed view. He stared like a predator watching prey as her plump ass gyrated in his face. The groans of his battles brought him back from the trance she’d successfully put him in. Pausing the game and throwing his controller to the side, he watched her hips move with ease to the beat. Before he knew it, her ass was on his lap, grinding and popping to the music as the bass thumped throughout the room. Groaning lowly, he moved the mic from his headset down to his mouth and spoke to the men who had been complaining in his ear the entire duration of the song.

“Aye niggas, I'll be back. I don't know when though.” The men's voices were cut off as he turned the PlayStation off and tossed the headset on the table. He bit his bottom lip as his calloused hands began kneading the tender flesh of her ass before giving it two harsh smacks. She moaned softly, but continued her ministrations, turning to face him now.

“You just couldn’t wait, huh? Needy ass,” he teased as he pulled her down to straddle his lap. His lips curved into his signature smirk, revealing the gold fronts that she loved.

“Nah, you wanted to play the game, remember? Keep that same energy fam,” she said as she slowly tried to slide out of his lap. His arms locked around her like a constrictor, effectively stopping her escape.

“Nah, the only game I’m tryna play is how many times Daddy can make Hennessy cum,” he growled, lifting from the couch.

————————

Hennessy’s legs shook as he feasted from her, his tongue darting back and forth with impeccable speed. Her hands moved from the sheets of the bed to his unruly dreads, tugging on them as he sucked on her clit.

As his tongue lapped over one of her more sensitive areas, she yanked his hair and moaned. As if her body wasn’t already seconds from overstimulation, a growl erupted from the beast between her thighs.

“F-fuck don’t growl at me…” She whimpered as she stared down at him. As his lips turned into a sly smirk, he chuckled softly.

“Mmm. Why not Princess?”

“Y-You know why,” she whined as his long tongue wrapped around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. He growled again, causing her to gush into his mouth as the vibration traveled up her body.

“Daddy I’m cumming,” she whined as she rocked her hips against his face. He stared up from his place between her legs, dark eyes fixed on hers as he continued to lick slow patterns on the swollen bulb.

“Let it go Princess,” he growled as he attached his lips to her clit and sucked. Her orgasm hit her hard and fast, but his tongue never stopped it’s quest. He continued feasting until orgasm number two had her clawing at his back. He licked his lips as he watched her body shake, determined to have her sated and asleep by the time he finished.

He climbed up her body slowly, kissing and biting at her skin along the way. A firm tug to his dreads had him eye to eye with the curvaceous cutie, her brown eyes piercing his.

“As much as I like the slow, sensual treatment, I’m way too horny for you to be taking your sweet grandpa time. It’s been four months, I need you to break me.”

“Say less ma,” he replied thrusting forward until he was completely buried inside of her. Her legs locked around his waist as he began delivering the powerful strokes that always left her sore and hoarse the next day.

“That’s right,” she moaned. “Act like it’s been four months since you’ve had this pussy, nigga.” He chuckled softly, leaning down to press open-mouth kisses along her cheek and jawline.

“Fuck I missed your fine ass. I missed the way your lips feel against mine, I missed the way your face scrunches up when I hit that spot, and I especially missed the way that pretty pussy clings to my dick like a life vest.” Her inner walls fluttered at his words. She had always loved how nasty he could be during sex. He sat up on his knees and pushed her legs up so that her knees were almost beside her ears.

“Grab them ankles,” he ordered as he lined himself up with her dripping core. She barely had time to comply before his hips snapped forward with electrifying force. This was one of her favorite positions because each stroke had him tapping her g-spot with deadly precision.

“Daddy,” she moaned out, feeling the familiar tingle in her lower belly.

“Wassup?” he smirked, gold fronts gleaming in the purple light of the bedroom. “You close, Mama?” She wanted to answer, but her words were caught in her throat as he continued to fuck into her. He thrust forward a few more times before pulling himself out and smacking it on her clit.

“Answer me, Monaé!” he growled, shoving himself back into her. She bit her lip and nodded, still unable to verbally express her pleasure.

“Cum for me, Princess. I feel the way she gripping me. Show Daddy he can still make that kitten purr.” At his command her released washed over her, coating both of their lower halves with her essence.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he released himself into her. He lazily kissed her lips, swallowing each moan that came in the aftershock of her orgasm. He pulled out slowly and headed for the bathroom as sleep threatened to overtake the tiny vixen.

—————

Once he cleaned both of them off, Erik pulled the Henny close so that her head was tucked under his chin. He kissed her forehead as he slowly began running his fingers through her curly hair.

“Sorry about your game,” she said, yawning into his neck.

“You’re fine Princess. You’ve always been my favorite distraction.”

———————————————

TAG LIST: @vibranium-soul @imagine-mbaku @mareethequeen @greennightspider @eriknutinthispoosy @hearteyes-for-killmonger @theegoldenjaguar @muse-of-mbaku @shesfromwakanda @thehomierobbstark @youreadthatright @tgigoldie @killmongersgurl @dameshaemonique @princessstevens @princesskillmonger @amethyst1993 @iamrheaspeaks @laketaj24 @bidibidibombaclaat @allhailnjadaka @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @forbeautyandlife @yaachtynoboat711 @panthergoddessbast @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @dacreskars @thadelightfulone @drsunshine97 @wakanda-inspired @wawakanda-btch @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @ayellepea @madamslayyy @blowmymbackout @vikkidc @champagnesugamama @sociallyawkward18 @chasingsunlight @dabluestsky

THE HOUSEHOLD: @alyshastevens-udaku @wyldjuan @itsangeludaku @thehomiekillmonger @lovemecharlie @itskimorafireudaku @poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku @killmongersprncss

#vanity writes #killmonger smut #daddy erik #erik stevens #bde #killmonger fic #my shit #erik x henny #i’m an artist #and i’m sensitive about my shit #erik killmonger #the kompound

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spiralledcupid · 5 years

Text

Fault Lines (2/7)

(Or, this was originally Riches and Wonders but the writer is an idiot n forgot she already called a fic that)

Shigadabi week day two: Lies

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki demands, half a month into his makeshift hospitalisation of the stranger. It hasn’t occurred to him to ask until now, mostly because he’d expected to be rid of him by now. By before now. But none of Shigaraki’s methods have come close to working, and they’ve had to resort to using stolen strips of disinfected metal to pin his skin back together. And this conversation can at least distract from the grossness of the entire procedure.

The stranger winces as Shigaraki uses his needle to pierce another hole, “I go by Dabi.”

“Dabi? That’s not a real name.” Shigaraki says, glowering. He’s in a bad mood, a little because ‘Dabi’ is annoying, but mostly because he’s been trying without success to make ‘Dabi’ leave Shigaraki’s bed and sleep on the floor.

Which Shigaraki has been doing.

For two weeks.

His back hurts from the hard floor and his nightmares are worse than ever, which makes his already unstable mood even worse.

“It’s my name,” Dabi insists, clutching at one of the pillows Shigaraki sewed himself. Just for that, Shigaraki pushes the needle in slower next time, “Ouch.”

Finally, Shigaraki puts aside the needle. “There. You’re all pinned together.” Rubbing his back, he wanders over to his makeshift cooking range. There are benefits to living in one room; the closeness of everything is one of them.

“Make me one too.” Dabi calls, reclining back onto Shigaraki’s pillows. Shigaraki grits his teeth.

When he finishes the makeshift coffee, he slaps it down beside Dabi so hard it splashes over Dabi’s shirt. “Oops.”

Unfortunately, the liquid just makes the thin material of Dabi’s think white top stick to his chest, becoming almost see-through. And Shigaraki has to force his eyes away.

God he’s so fucked.

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks two days later.

It’s dark outside, and they’ve spent half the evening drinking wine Shigaraki stole on his last reluctant trip to town. It’s not good by any means, but it’s strong and that’s what they both want in the end.

“Why’d you wear that hand?” Dabi counters, slurring slightly. His eyes are half shut, and that (mixed with the alcohol Shigaraki has drunk) makes him the pretties thing Shigaraki’s ever seen. He wants to blame it all on the wine. But even he’s not that good at denial.

“It’s a mask,” Shigaraki snaps, moving away when all he wants to do is move closer, “So people are too scared to annoy me.”

He’s lying. But he’s entirely sure Dabi is too, so it’s only fair.

Dabi shakes his head slowly, “Nah. You’re too cute to be scary, Mophead.” They both pause, letting silence settle between them. Shigaraki refuses to look at Dabi. Then Dabi staggers to his feet, “’m gonna throw up.”

Shigaraki watches him go, a lump building itself bigger and bigger in his throat. He wonders when they both decided to lie to each other.

He wonders if either of them will ever find out the truth.

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks.

“That’s an odd last request.”

They’re both up to their thighs in a peat bog and sinking fast. Really, Shigaraki should have kept an eye on how close they were getting to the peat, but he was more focused on… other things.

(Like how Dabi’s shirt rode up when he plucked a low hanging fruit from a tree, or how his ratty black pants clung when he bent to pick a few weeds Shigaraki pointed to. But that doesn’t mean anything.

It doesn’t.)

Shigaraki rolls his eyes. They’re up to their hips now, and Shigaraki thought the threat of death might at least encourage Dabi to be honest.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Dabi raises his hands above his head in an effort to keep his burns clean, “Any ideas? You’re the nature dude, after all.”

“Grab that branch.” Shigaraki instructs, as he sinks deeper into the bog.

Dabi reaches out, wincing when the sharp end of the branch stabs into his loose skin. But he manages to grab the branch anyway, hand slipping until he finds a patch of bark free of moss. The wiry muscles in his arm flex as Dabi pulls, the bog squelching as it slowly relinquishes him from its sinking grip. He manages to pull one bootless foot from the bog, using his leg to help him pull himself up until he’s finally free of the bog.

Shigaraki is up to his ribs now, struggling to keep his hands out of the mud, “Help me out, dickwad.”

“Manners,” Dabi almost sings, making no effort to reach out to Shigaraki.

They both wait.

Shigaraki’s face level with Dabi’s bare feet when he finally gives in, “Please pull me out.”

“All you had to do.” Dabi says, extending his hand for Shigaraki to grab.

They both lie in the deceptively dry grass long after Shigaraki is free. They’re covered in mud, sticky and stinking, all the way to their armpits, like a disgusting second layer. The ends of Shigaraki’s hair are covered too. It feels gross.

But being gross isn’t the worst thing.

The worst thing is that Shigaraki is going to have to do…laundry.

Shigaraki hopes Dabi’s asleep.

He really, really hopes Dabi’s asleep, because he’s sat out here, in the dark, in nothing but his underwear trying to scrape flakes off an old, crusted over bar of soap. The air beside the river is cold, and he’ll probably have to wash again after this to get the sand off. Their clothes mingle together in the water he’s collected and boiled, looking miserable and waterlogged. Frankly, Shigaraki doesn’t feel much better.

His skin is dry and itchy from the soap he had to use earlier, to get the last of the mud off himself, and his hair is too clean to properly use as a curtain. His nails have all broken off from the heat and the water, leaving him with scratchy hangnails and swollen cuticles. And now, he has to go through it all again with the laundry.

Honestly, the only thing that could make it worse is-

“Meow.”

That.

Shigaraki yelps, jumps away and overbalances all in one smooth move. He falls backwards and braces himself as he lands with a splash in the river running steadily beside his washbasket.

It seemed like the perfect place earlier, where he could rinse the clothes as soon as he needed to. Now he regrets his choice.

“Sorry, Tomu-chan!” A voice chirps. Shigaraki sinks further into the water, glowering up at the newcomer.

“Go away, Toga.” He’s seriously, seriously cold now, but he’s not getting out. Not with Toga… there.

Toga pouts, pushing a hand into her cat’s fur until it purrs, “You’re no fun, Tomu-chan. Are you doing chores?”

Shigaraki’s still thinking of a rely when his day goes from bad to worse.

“Wha’s goin’ on?” Dabi mumbles, staggering, shirtless, out of Shigaraki’s home. Blearily, he rubs a hand over his eyes, taking in Toga perched on a rock and Shigaraki sat in the river, the washing balanced dangerously beside him.

“Who’s this?” Toga says, managing to fit approximately 50 different implications into her voice at once. Dabi blinks sleepily back.

“Where’d you find the gremlin?”

“She just… turns up.” Shigaraki says, trying not to look at Dabi. He’s entirely sure Dabi’s going to start laughing at him any minute. And he’d prefer not to witness it.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Dabi says, smirking. A beat passes. And then Toga screeches with laughter.

Shigaraki can feel his temper rising.

Toga takes a few minutes to calm down, wiping at her eyes until her cackles turn into softer giggles. She rocks back and forth on her perch, “I like him! What bloodtype do you have?”

“Uh-“

“Toga is a bloodwitch.” Shigaraki tells Dabi, though his pettiness wants him to shut up. It might be entertaining for Dabi to be the one who needs Shigaraki’s help for once, when Toga bleeds him half to death while telling him about her latest stupid crush.

“Oh.” Dabi says. He eyes Toga with a lot more trepidation than before.

“I’m not even looking for blood tonight!” Toga protests, shooting Dabi a big, sharp-toothed smile, “I stocked up last night, I’ve got at least three days-“

“I don’t care,” Shigaraki interrupts. He can feel his skin getting tighter and tighter the longer he stays in the river, “Just go away, Toga.”

“Fine,” Toga huffs, blowing her fringe off her face, “I’ll come back for breakfast.”

“No-“ Shigaraki starts. But Toga’s already gone.

“Crazy kid.” Dabi shakes his head. He wanders back into the house, scratching the back of his head. Shigaraki’s just about to climb out of the water when a ball of fabric hits him full in the face.

“Spare shirt.” Dabi explains, and he’s smirking straight at Shigaraki.

Silence falls between them.

And then-

“Why didn’t you tell me you had fucking spares?!” Shigaraki shrieks, disturbing a few bats into flight, “Then I wouldn’t have wasted all my time doing fucking laundry!”

“Just say thank you, Creep.” Dabi tells him, leaning against the doorframe.

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks instead.

Dabi ignores him. Wordlessly, he walks down to the river’s edge, dunks his hands into the laundry bucket and starts scrubbing. Eventually, Shigaraki has to give in.

He clambers awkwardly out of the water, pulling on Dabi’s spare shirt despite his damp skin. For a moment, he thinks he feels eyes on him, but when he turns around, Dabi’s still diligently scrubbing.

Shigaraki joins him.

Together, they get through the laundry in half the time it usually takes Shigaraki. He finds the cracked skin of his hands bothers him less when there’s someone else helping him.

Later, when Shigaraki’s on the brink of sleep, he feels something brush against his cheek.

“Touya.” Dabi whispers, almost too quiet to be heard.

When Shigaraki turns over, he’s already in bed.

#shigadabiweek #shigadabi #shigaraki tomura #dabi #toga himiko #dabi is a todoroki #todoroki touya #fault lines #spoon writes #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #consistently a day late #the spoon way

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grossguns · 5 years

Text

Morishiki—Harassment/bullying, underage sex, degrading, pissplay, and more. You have been warned.

There's also short!Morishige, but that doesn't need a warning. That one's just a blessing.

—

A loud 'bang' rang throughout the hallways of Kisaragi Academy.

Currently, Yoshiki was holding Morishige up against the lockers in the hallway after school, long after the building had been abandoned by those who flocked it throughout the morning. Staying back so late was trivial business; this was completely arranged between the two, as per Kishinuma's anonymous request.

"The hell, man?!" Yoshiki's voice was intense, although it hardly raised itself above a mere whisper out of anxieties that someone was around to hear. He couldn't hold back much, though, as his chest was flared up with the burning sensation of anger.

Morishige moved his head out of the way uncomfortably. Yoshiki waited patiently for him to answer his goddamn question, but the boy never did. He only glared up at the taller blonde with oblivious eyes, like he didn't understand how he did anything wrong.

Like hell he didn't do something wrong, though! It pissed Kishinuma off that this exchange between the two was only happening now, so long after he had originally come up with his genius. He was tired, he was in deep shit, and he was mad.

Like hell he wouldn't be. Anyone would if they were in Yoshiki's position.

Yoshiki Koshinuma isn't a bully. Never was. It hadn't even crossed his mind that he could rough up some scrawny loser and get something out of it. Nah, if the school administrators found some bullcrap like that out, his ass would be on the curb faster than he'd be able to protest.

Even with that, it's not like he'd want to in the first place. The worst he'd ever done to a person was shout at some total pricks who wouldn't leave a couple of pretty young girls alone, and damn right they deserved it.

Yoshiki Kishinuma isn't a bully.

But this is different.

School is bullshit, home life is bullshit, Yoshiki can't catch a fucking break. He had two jobs to work and was expected to attend some bullshit school on top of that with no room for a smoke break in between. It was more than that, it always was, but Kishinuma didn't even need more of a reason than that to cut class to go to the stalls and light one up.

He never questioned getting caught. It was bound to happen anyways, yeah? Nothing weird about getting your ass handed to you for breaking the rules. Yoshiki didn't have to bat an eye to understand that much, so he never thought more of it.

Gossip, however, wouldn't let anything go unheard of. Especially at Kisaragi Academy, if a pencil dropped to the floor, someone would make a comment about it and there was about a 90% chance it'd turn into a wildfire.

Yoshiki was never on the receiving end of any gossip, but there sure as hell were words about him going around. He couldn't care less, so long as whatever was said about him didn't surpass a certain level of dumbassery and the ones who kept it circulating needed to get their facts straight. Other than that, though, people could think he was a fucking crook or whatever they wanted to believe. It was a waste of time humoring those people.

For the first time, though, Yoshiki wasn't the talk of the school. No, it was of the nerdy boy from 2-9 who'd trail behind the scary blonde like a puppy—at a distance. Peeking around corners, glancing through the windows, he'd always have some sort of eye on Yoshiki Kishinuma. The boy who'd constantly turn the camera of his phone in the delinquent's direction. To Yoshiki, this was proof enough that the school had a pair of eyes on him.

And after his most recent detention for filling the stalls with smoke, and once again catching onto the murmurs, Yoshiki had enough.

A note on the desk of his homeroom classmate was all it took to get him to meet Yoshiki. That's all it took.

At first, Kishinuma was suprised that it did. It's not like either of them had friends, and it's not like he signed the note, either. Morishige just found the note and obliged willingly without any reassurance or backup from anyone at all.

And now Yoshiki was holding him up against the lockers.

"Come the fuck on. You know what you did. Now tell me why you did it." Kishinuma struggled in not raising his voice. He wanted to scare Sakutaro, but he wanted answers, too.

"I don't know why this is happening." Morishige murmured as if it was all he could muster out of him. Morishige, like Yoshiki, was now in deep shit. Kishinuma knew the boy was small, scrawny, and that he couldn't run fast or fight back in this sort of situation. They both knew he just had to endure, and endure he would.

"This is happening because you're going to get my ass expelled!" Releasing Sakutaro for only a moment, he quickly regained his grasp on his peer's uniform shirt, hitting him unceremoniously against the lockers once again. "Because you can't keep your goddamn mouth shut!"

"I really don't know what you're talking about. I really," Morishige breathed. It was clear to Kishinuma that the boy wanted to run or glance around for any means of escape, but both of them retained an intense, heated eye contact.

"You keep ratting me out to the office. I know you are, so don't fuckin' try to deny it, you prick. Just fess up and leave me the hell alone!"

Immediately, Sakutaro's head began to shake back and forth frantically. His mouth was open, but it was like he didn't have the words to say 'no, no, no—'

So, of course, Kishinuma's anger boiled. He wanted straight answers, not denial, and he wanted them right the fuck now. He released Sakutaro, now, but only halfway; it wasn't like he could get out, even with only one of Yoshiki's hands holding him back. With the other, though, he grabbed Morishige's cheeks. He held the boy's chin in his palm, and with his fingers he squished Sakutaro's cheeks, keeping his mouth open.

Kishinuma expected Morishige to fight back. He expected him to do something other than sit there, staring up at Yoshiki through his glasses with big eyes. But that's exactly what happened. Total silence, not a single cry for help. Only silence and heavy breathing.

And want in his eyes.

Yoshiki swore it was lust he saw in there. He swore that Morishige's gaze read, 'This is your chance, now take me,' and it said that loudly. And Yoshiki continued to search that pale green, wanting to find any shred of uncertainty or doubt or fear, but he found none of it.

And, as if it lured him in, they collided.

Yoshiki kissed his victim sloppily, leaning in and sucking on his bottom lip like it was sugary candy. And to him, it was. The boy's lips were warm, and soft, and the surprised mewls that escaped them reminded Yoshiki of sweets.

Of course, this was all done without further thinking. Kishinuma didn't need to think, he only needed to hear Morishige's needy whines and feel Morishige's little lips on his own and feel Morishige grabbing onto his biceps to pull him closer.

They split apart, but only for a moment. A single strand of saliva connected them still as they panted before it fell and drooled lazily down Sakutaro's chin. All too suddenly, Yoshiki's tongue was in Morishige's mouth, and the weaker boy's face was released in favor of Yoshiki fumbling with the buttons on his school uniform.

It didn't take long for that, along with the shirt Sakutaro wore underneath, to be cast to the side. And Yoshiki latched onto the boy's already erected nipple, sucking on the little bud and rolling his tongue along it in slow, messy circles.

Morishige was eating it up above him. Yoshiki could hear every single moan that he let out, despite the fact that his peer now has his hand over his own mouth in attempts to quiet himself. Kishinuma, though, wasn't going to let him out of this that easily. He didn't stop, not for a moment, and even began to pinch at his boy's other nipple—to which he responded by moaning loudly.

"Kishinum—ha-kun," Morishige sighed, interrupted midway through his mindless comment as Yoshiki trailed his fingers down his tummy and supposedly sent a chill up the boy.

"Shut up. Have you always been this much of a whore?" Yoshiki asked lazily, his lips still pressed against Morishige's skin.

Before Sakutaro could respond properly, though, the taller boy started groping at the bottom's dick roughly through his pants. He yelped.

Yoshiki just smirked big, now. He stopped with the nipple play entirely, once again standing to his full height as both of his hands brushed up against Morishige's crotch. Hastily, they undid the other boy's pants, allowing those to fall to the floor.

In a mindless state, Kishinuma began to stroke at Morishige. The receiving end choked out a moan, mumbling things like 'fuck—' 'oh god yes—' 'please don't stop—' 'I've been waiting for this—'

"You're so fuckin' desperate, huh? Your cock's already hard, little whore." Yoshiki pressed his lips to Morishige's ear as he spoke, with the latter of the two frantically nodding his head in agreement and begging for more touches.

"I'll fuckin' give it to you. You're so goddamn needy, has no one ever taken care of your pathetic asshole before?"

Morishige was shaking his head this time, and Yoshiki pressed his fingers forcefully into the smaller boy's mouth before he could further beg like a slut. Naturally, Morishige sucked, and they stayed like this for several moments before Kishinuma pulled his hand away.

Yoshiki backed up so there would be room to turn Morishige around and prop him against the lockers so his hands pressed against them and his ass stuck out. A perfect position. Without any further warning or comment, Yoshiki pressed them in.

Immediately, Morishige was moaning. Kishinuma could tell just from a few moments of rocking his hand in and out of Sakutaro that the boy had serviced his own asshole before.

"You touch yourself like this, little boy?" Kishinuma taunted, only to be met with a small 'mhm—' and 'I'm sorry—,' and then more moans. While he scolded Morishige for it not moments later and punished the boy with a slap to his ass, Kishinuma was grateful that he didn't have to stretch the boy out before he inserted something much bigger.

It only took a little bit before Yoshiki decided Morishige's ass was lubed up well enough with his boy's own drool. Removing his hand (and with a whine of complaint from Sakutaro, who started to readily wiggle his needy ass,) Yoshiki began to undo his own pants, letting those as well as his underwear open up just enough for his erect cock to fully spring out from its cramped confines.

And without a moment to spare, the top was grabbing at his bitch's hips with one hand, and with the other he guided his cock to the desperate entrance.

"You need this, whore boy? Is this what you want?" Kishinuma growled, leaning over Sakutaro.

Morishige just nodded, over and over, once again letting out useless little begs in hopes they would get Yoshiki inside of him.

But that wasn't needed. After a few moments worth of teasing, Sakutaro apparently had enough and ended up throwing his asshole back onto Kishinuma's cock. They both gasped, though Morishige's turned more into a pleasured wail, and hips started moving on both ends rapidly.

Yoshiki thrusted into his moaning Morishige, the latter moving himself back and forth as to meet his top's demands.

"Yosh—Yoshiki-kun, I—fuck—" Morishige desperately tried to speak, looking back at Yoshiki with a concerned look on his pretty face. Yoshiki, however, responded by grabbing at his fuckdoll's hair roughly and pulling, causing Morishige to cry out.

"No, I—uhghghghh—Yoshiki-kun, I need to p—"

"What, you need to cum already?" Yoshiki rewarded Morishige a smack on the ass for this, but once again the bottom was gasping out protests after a loud cry.

"No...! Kishinuma-kun, I really need to piss—I really need to, I'm gonna—"

At first, Yoshiki treated this with surprise. He kept silent for a few seconds, although continuing to fuck into the boy as he moaned and repeated himself over again.

And then Yoshiki smirked.

"That's fuckin' disgusting. So you better piss all over the place, you gross whore. Make a fucking mess."

Morishige let out a few loud 'uh-huh's before he fulfilled Yoshiki's strict demand. Yoshiki could hear it, warm liquid streamimg steadily onto the ground below them and the lockers in front of them as Sakutaro choked out in bliss.

Kishinuma couldn't bring himself to handle much more after that. His thrusts grew increasingly more frequent, and within moments he was spilling his load into Morishige's asshole as his baby cried out into the empty hallways. He picked up his movement once again after, fucking into Sakutaro's asshole and repeatedly beating at his prostate until he finally reached the same limit and came all over the floor, making an even bigger mess.

They stood there for a while, panting, not speaking to one another.

—

Yoshiki lay in bed late that night, his mind turning the pages of the events that just took place over and over again as he tried to make sense of them. Essentially, this kid was watching Yoshiki's every move, and he ended up getting interrogated and fucked over it.

With a sigh, he shut off the lights, and crawled into bed without getting under the covers.

He didn't understand the whole situation yet, but he did know one thing.

Yoshiki Kishinuma was gonna become a bully.

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odderancyart · 5 years

Text

Winter’s Return

Here’s a weird rarepair: Edge/G (Echotale Sans)

As Hades & Persephone at that, because of a crack AU I thought of and @kamari333 and I developed on Twitter. You can find it here and here and here’s a list of the current... cast.

On AO3

The halls of the castle could feel incredibly empty sometimes. Particularly during summer. Edge’s footsteps echoed through the dark hallways before he stopped by a window, looking out over his kingdom. From there, he could see all of Hades: all the four rivers and every one of the four regions. His black chiton billowed around him, wreathing like smoke around his legs. The windowsill was cold beneath his hand: the entire castle was built from black marble. He sighed, leaning his jaw at his fist.

His land was beautiful, if you asked him. He couldn’t see what the other gods saw in Olympus. That place was bright and messy and loud. Down here, he was in control. Order reigned, keeping the Dead peaceful.

Well. He winced as a crash came from behind, followed by a yell. Order almost reigned. He twisted around just in time to see Sans phasing through a wall, grinning like a cat who’d gotten into the milk. His teal tail whisked lazily behind him.

“Sans,” Papyrus shouted as he came through as well, throwing himself after his brother. He glared at the shorter spirit. “Get back here and do your fucking job.”

Edge regarded them with suspicion. For being two of his most loyal minions, he certainly couldn’t trust them as long as their tails reached. Pain was too fucking friendly, and Panic was the laziest person he’d ever met in his millennia of living. Together they were pure chaos.

“Nah.”

Sans floated back toward the wall, but was obviously not about to phase through again. Toward the pedestal with an old urn on. Edge’s breath caught in his throat as he bumped into it. The spirit yelped, freezing mid-air.

With his soul in his throat, Edge lurched forward as the urn rocked. And fell. His hands closed around it, moments before it hit the floor. He stumbled forward, shoving his shoulder against the wall for balance. For a moment, he did nothing but stare at the urn. At the intricate depictions of his wedding.

Carefully, he put it back on the pedestal. When he looked up, he found the brothers staring at him, wide-eyed. A hint of fear shone in Sans’ eyes. Once he’d taken a step away from the urn, back to safe distance, he let his temper flare. He clenched his fists, flames starting to flicker, licking at his arms, as he glared at him. His blood boiled as he stared between them and the wedding urn. The urn that had almost been broken because of Sans’ carelessness. “Will you be careful, you idiot!”

Sans actually recoiled, nodding quickly. It wasn’t often he was actually intimidated, but perhaps he realized what he’d done was too far. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Get out.” The command was curt, and he took a few deep breaths to calm the pounding of his soul. With a quick nod, Sans sank through the floor, and he was gone. Papyrus threw him an apologetic gaze before he too disappeared, and Edge gritted his teeth. Of all stupid things…

“Wow. You really let this place go when I’m gone, huh?”

The sudden voice came from behind and Edge twisted around as he heard it, soul doing a somersault. His anger melted away as he stared at the skeleton leaning against the column by the wall, one hand rolling one of his infernal marrowbones stuffed with opiates between his fingers. His yellow eyelights glimmered with amusement. A flower crown of red pomegranate flowers rested on his head, a lovely contrast to his floor-length black chiton.

“G.”

Pushing himself of the wall, G smiled. “The one and only, husband.”

The next thing Edge knew, he was at G’s side, pulling him into his arms. His husband was a mere five centimetres shorter than him, giving him the perfect position to just breathe in his scent for a while. Opium poppies, fresh air, spring. And pomegranates, of course. Always pomegranates. G sneaked his arms around his waist, returning the embrace “I’ve missed you, love,” Edge murmured.

The arms around his waist tightened. “Yeah I missed you too.” He huffed, and Edge could imagine his smirk. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. It’s only late August after all. My brother wasn’t pleased.”

“Fuck him,” Edge said, pulling away so he could look at him. At the cracks running up and down his face from his eye sockets, the sunshine yellow of his eyelights, the perfect white bone. Beautiful.

G smirked, reaching up to caress his face. Edge relaxed into it. The marrowbone laid forgotten on the floor. “Absolutely not. If there’s anyone you’re fucking, it’s me.” His fingers hooked around Edge’s jaw, pulling him down and mashing their teeth together with a clack. After his initial surprise, Edge reached up to cup his head from behind, running his fingers over the lowest of the pomegranate blossoms.

The kiss was gentle. Edge smiled into it, warmth blossoming in his chest, and he stepped closer, pressing their bodies together. His soul raced and his body tingled. He breathed out as they parted. “Oh, I love you.”

A pale daffodil yellow tinted G’s cheeks. Unable to help himself, Edge ghosted his knuckles over them. So pretty.

“Yeah, yeah,” G muttered, averting his eyes. Still, the corners of his mouth curled upwards. He grabbed Edge’s hand. “Your wonderful consort is back, blah blah, your usual speech.” A wicked glint lit up his eyes and he stepped forward, forcing Edge to back up against the wall. He lifted a hand, ghosting it over Edge’s bare collarbone and in beneath his chiton. Edge shivered. “I think I have a better idea, sweetheart. Let’s announce my return in a… slightly different way this year.”

There was something almost predatory in his grin. Edge didn’t even try to hold back his own as he pulled G up against his chest again, kissing him fiercely. The other hummed into the kiss, raking his fingers over his upper ribs.

“With pleasure,” Edge purred, whisking them away. One second, they were in the hallways and in the next, he pushed G down into their huge bed. G grunted, but his smile was delighted as Edge undid the brooch holding his shoulder strap up. As it fell away, revealing G’s gorgeous ribcage, he immediately bowed down, licking a stripe. When G gasped, his grin grew wider.

“You know,” he murmured against the other’s sternum. “I do like this idea.” He bit down, drawing a whimper. “Now now, love. You wanted to announce your presence. Don’t be quiet.”

“Asshole,” G growled. But to Edge’s delight, he complied. His sounds were delicious.

…

Afterwards, as they laid curled up in each other’s arms, Edge couldn’t stop his purring. G was in his arms, home again after almost six months, back in their kingdom where he belonged. He stroked his fingers over his sleeping husband’s face, smiling.

“I love you,” he mumbled, joy rushing through him at those simple words. Six months. Six months since he’d seen the other, since he’d last spoken them to anyone other than Doomfanger.

“Love you too,” G mumbled back, shifting in his sleep.

Edge could only sigh happily.

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breathing-gay-blog · 6 years

Text

Suckers & Smokes - (Young Carol/You) S1 E8: Lackeys Lack Sense

----

Everyone at school were talking about how amazing the dance was. I didn't go because I promised my dad we'd watch a movie together. He chose Halloween since we equally love scary movies.

Also, I hate dances. Sweaty, horny teenagers in a gym smelling like hairspray, sweat, and four tons of cologne and perfume? No, thanks, I'm good. I'd rather sit in my room and have my Off The Wall record on.

I heard that some sophomores were caught trying to have sex in the bathroom. Fucking gross. Also, someone snuck in alcohol and someone got so wasted, they threw up all on our chemistry teacher, Mr. Welsh.

Though, because of that, the teachers checked the punch and called off the dance. Glad I decided to miss it.

It's the last ten minutes of class and out teacher let us have free time. I spend this time sketching a flower when I feel someone tap me.

"You see I'm busy, Marlon," I spit. I'm then met with a deep chuckle, "Nah, bella." I turn around to the accented voice. That Ace kid.

He gives me a smile, toothpick sitting in the corner of his mouth. I raise an eyebrow, "Danny Zuko?" His expression turns confused and I shake my head dismissively, "Never mind." I turn back to my drawing, only to realize he's sitting beside me.

"You're good at that," he comments. I say nothing, honestly just want this guy to go away. "What's your name?" I sigh in irritation, "If I tell you, would you leave me the hell alone?"

He laughs, "I can't make that a promise." I turn to him, resting my head on my hand, "Sorry, I don't like white boys," I smile sarcastically before going back to my drawing.

I don't hear anything from him for a bit, so I turn back to him, seeing he's wearing a thinking look. "Why are you looking at me like that, primo?" He chuckles, taking out his comb and combing the side of his hair back.

"I was just playing. I do wanna ask you something, though." I look at him skeptically. "I saw what you did to Michael Wackson a few days back and you have a damn good punch."

I stay silent as he continues, "We could use something like that."

"'We'? Who's 'we'?" I ask. He turns around, showing me the dragon on his leather jacket. I struggle to keep my laugh in, "Yeah, my guy, you belong in Grease." He turns back, visibly angry.

"Man, you look like you're straight out of Rydell High School. Like, you have no idea how hard I wanna laugh right now," I let out a small giggle. He continues to glare at me, making me wanna laugh harder.

I take a deep breath and look down at my drawing, going over the same line for the tenth time. I hear a soft growl and I couldn't hold it in. I laughed out loudly, causing everyone to look over at us.

Some had shocked faces while others where downright scared or humored. "You're fucking funny, man," I say. The bell finally rings and I start collecting my belongings. I stand and brush pass him, "See ya later, Zuko," I laugh, walking out.

As I walk down to the front doors, I feel someone run up beside me, "Y/N, ARE YOU CRAZY?!" Marlon whisper yells. I shrug, "Eh, I dunno, maybe?" I giggle a bit, still finding what happened a minute ago hilarious.

"Y/N! Ace is a gang member!" I turn to him, "Yeah, I know. I think its funny."

"What's funny about any of this?!"

"A lot. I mean, he looks like 1958," Marlon stale faces me. "How would you know? You were born in '66," I copy his facial expression. "I do have parents from that decade, idiot."

He sighs and looks back, then around us. When he looks at me, his expression becomes one of fear. "We have to go, like now," he guides me towards the double doors while I protest in him pushing me.

"Marlon, what the fuck?!" An administrator warned me about my language and I rolled my eyes. We make it outside and walked quickly to the back of the school.

"Marlon, what the ass? My bus is right there!"

He shushes me and looks around briefly, "Ace and his gang, the Midnight Dragons, are dangerous," he says seriously. I feel the strong urge to laugh again. I stifle a laugh, "The 'Midnight Dragons'?"

He sighs irritably, "Y/N, I'm serious. They run underground drug circuits and other shit. Don't get involved."

-----

"Are you sure inventory's good?" Carol asks as we walk towards the library. "That's why we're meeting up with Hernandez."

"What did Hansen say?"

"That our shipment is back to normal, but there's something else up."

"Have any idea what?" I shake my head, "That's what we're gonna find out." We turn the corner, seeing the short woman waiting by the entrance of the library next to that 'fraidy cat guard.

He opens the door and stays off to the side while we enter. I cast a glare his way before leading the two inside. I flip the light on and make my way to the very back. Hernandez stayed on the other side of the bookcase, knowing her place.

Carol and I sit on the mattress, and I take the books from the shelf, being met with Hernandez's nervous features. "Why are you looking so anxious?" I ask, suspiciously.

She looks down, playing with her nails and remaining silent. "If I ask again, you're earning a visit later. Why are you nervous?" I threaten. She looks up, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Speak, now."

She looks over at Carol, who wore a similar expression to me. "So, I talked to Machio about the inventory and he straightened it out. But-," she looks off and hit the shelf hard for her attention.

"Stop fucking with me, Hernandez," she jumps with a soft gasp. "But, uh, the reduced is going to Barb and D-Block." I eyes widen in anger and my blood starts to boil a bit.

"What?!" Carol yells and I hold her back. "Easy, Loca. I got this," I say, looking at Hernandez. "Remember what happened to the last girl who I suspected was helping the enemy?"

She nods slowly, looking down at my hands. "Don't worry, I won't do it to you," I fake chuckle, making her face relax. I suddenly reach to my side and grab my hidden shiv that used to be Frieda's.

"I'll do way worse," I say darkly. She swallows, trembling hard. "I promise, I'm not working for Barb. I didn't think he'd give it to them."

"Correction: you weren't thinking at all. Had you thought it through, you'd know that Machio would get rid of excess shit in the quickest way. Plus, I never told you to fucked with the inventory in the first fucking place," I seethe.

"Are you trying to get us caught?" Carol says angrily. Hernandez shakes her head violently, "No, no, no! I was just trying to help."

"Well, you can help me by getting yourself thrown in Seg in the next 9 hours before I literally fucking strangle you," I grit. Her eyes widen as she nods. I notice tears are welling up in her eyes.

"Now, get out of my fucking sight," I lean back against the bed,watching her leave hastily. I sigh, going into the hollowed out book of small bags of different highs, stamps, candy, and other shit for a jawbreaker.

I swish it around in my mouth, rubbing my temples to rid the stress induced headache. "What good are lackeys if they can't do the simplest shit?" Carol says. I shrug, "Some lackeys lack common sense."

I feel her move then turn the radio on. A very familiar song plays and I chuckle when she changes it. "Why'd you change the station?" I ask, looking up at her. She ignores me and goes to the rock station.

"Go back! I love that part from Flashdance," I tease. She sits back beside me, but closest to the radio so I wouldn't change it. "No, each time I hear that song, I think of that stupid little cunt," she says.

I wrap an arm around her with a laugh, "But you have to admit, its a good song." She starts singing the words to the song that's playing.

I decide to be a little jerk, "Care's a maniac. Maniac, at your door." I start, looking at her with a smile. She glares at me as I continue, "And she's crazy like she's never crazed before."

She tries to hold her smile, but fails. She punches my arm, "You're dumb." I shrug, "I try to be."

-----

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passionfruitys · 6 years

Text

strike a chord. pairing. terudai chapters. 1/? rating. m summary. terushima yuuji is the lead singer of rock band FERAL that debuted a year ago. he's known as a playboy, a wild child, unpredictable and electric. no one can tie him down and his only love is the music he makes with his bandmates. he doesn't see himself ever tying himself down to anything or anyone else. then comes in sawamura daichi, a normal college student who doesn't care about the entertainment industry or any flair or fanfare terushima has to offer. at first, terushima's interested because daichi's so uninterested. but soon, terushima finds that daichi and all his normalcy are more than just a game for him to play with until he gets bored.but is he in love? no absolutely not. never. think again!

Someone was in his bed.

A female someone, if the smell of perfume and the taste of curly hair jammed in his mouth was any indication to go by. His eyes cracked open slowly, sleep and eye gunk weighing them down. Beside him was someone he didn’t recognize. A normal reaction would be to freak out. For Terushima Yuuji, waking up in a bed with a stranger was a normal Wednesday morning routine.

“Go home,” he croaked.

The girl beside him stirred, yawned, and opened her eyes. “Go home ,” he pressed.

She scowled. The smeared lipstick made her less intimidating. “What do you mean go home? You’re the one who brought me here! Begged me, no less.”

“Sounds fake,” he yawned, turning onto his side so his back was now facing towards her. She sputtered, called him some not so pretty names , then stormed out his room. Hopefully with all her things in tow. If not he’d have his manager mail them to her.

Well, probably not since he didn’t know her name or where she lived or what her favorite color was. But it was the thought that counted.

He sighed, now able to properly sprawl out on his bed. Maybe he’d crawl out of bed to bring his guitar in for a snuggle. Mornings were definitely meant for solo missions where he could just exist and sink into the mattress and bury under pillows. He was drifting back to sleep when his door opened and someone sat on his bed.

“Morning, princess.”

“Die, Bobata.”

“Rude!” Bobata chirped, crossing his legs and leaning his weight against Tersuhima’s side. Terushima frowned and reached blindly for his friend to push him off but to no avail. “I come in here, minimizing your damage by the way, and wake up you yet I’m treated with such hostility? Being your best friend has no perks!”

“What damage did you minimize?”

“Youko-chan. The model you rudely kicked out of bed after nicely asking her to get into it last night.”

“That was her name,” he vaguely remembered meeting her last night. In the band’s usual night hangout. He remembered her voice in his ears and his hand on her thigh and then her tongue in his mouth and after that it was all darkness.

Again, literally a typical wednesday night for him.

Realizing that sleep was no longer an option, Terushima pushed himself up into a sitting position. He blinked sleep from his eyes, yawning. His hair was all over the place, bleach blond kicked up towards the ceiling in all sorts of directions like lightning bolts. He glanced at Bobata who was texting on his phone. “You going for her next?”

“Nah,” Bobata clucked his tongue, “Not my type. I like a challenge.”

“Are you saying I can only get them easy?” he shot back, but there’s no real malice in his tone. Not like his next yawn did anything to help make him sound more aggressive.

“I would never allude to such a thing,” his tone was airy but the shit-eating grin on his face said otherwise. Terushima flipped him off and rolled out of bed. He scanned his room and sighed. His pants were at the door and his shirt was on a chair. At least Kyou--Youko-chan had gotten her stuff before storming out. He scratched at his stomach as he headed for the shower. He smelt like sex and felt like booze replaced the blood in his veins.

“We have our meeting in 10 minutes, by the way!”

“Cool so I’m showing up late, thanks for letting them know!” Terushima hollered before heading into the shower. He was pretty sure he heard Bobata yell fuck you, a perfect harmony to the chaotic laughter that bubbled from his throat in response.

As promised, Terushima arrived to their meeting 30 minutes later. But it’s fine because he no longer felt like ass and he was stepping out . Hair styled, earrings polished, leather jacket looked just beat up enough to be vintage but with the price tag to show it was definitely modern and expensive as anything. He strolled into their meeting room with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his lips.

“Hello friends! What’s popping?”

“You’re late ,” his manager, Kagami, cut no corners with him. Kagami was the band’s manager, and then some. Sometimes team dad, sometimes team mom , and Terushima’s well... guardian? Savior? He didn’t know what title appropriately fit Kagami and no words could really describe it. Kagami was gruff, tall and well built--could fill out suits with ease. He always had his hair styled and cut short, curling around his ears. And his lips were generally slotted in a frown. Mostly from stress, but for the most part because Kagami and happiness were never synonymous in any context.

Which was why Terushima enjoyed fucking with him the most. “Ah, am I? Technically time doesn’t really exist so if we’re following that logic I’m really on time. Because, you know, it’s a social construct.”

“He’s not wrong,” Bobata chimed from his chair, now playing with a DS that oddly looked like--

“Oi! Is that mine?” Terushima lunged across the table and reached for his DS. Bobata moved just in time, pushing his rolling chair back with a cackle and a spin. “Bastard how could you take my shit like that!”

“You left me unsupervised. I’m not responsible for your missing property because of your lack of caring. Also I beat the gym leader for you. You’re welcome.”

“I wanted to beat the gym leader!”

“You’re the only one in our group who hasn’t beaten her yet,” Takeharu hummed, drumming his fingers on top of the table. “She’s the easiest one in the game, dude!”

“Isn’t it because, and I quote, she’s too cute to fight~ I want to make her my wife not another step on my way to victory ahhh~ ” Arata also commented, chin in hands and pencil perched on top his pursed lips.

Rintaro yawned, “Isn’t it just because he sucks at Pokemon?”

“You shut your damn--!” Terushima got cut off by Kagami’s sharp whistle that brought the entire group back to focus. Kagami lowered his hands and clasped them together in front of him. “You could have just said shut up. That works like, every time.”

“Act like animals, be treated like animals.” was Kagami’s simple response.

“That was deep--” came Bobata from the side.

“Anyways,” Kagami continued, “You’re late. You know the rules and no excuses. Sit down so we can finish this meeting and get into the studio.”

“Kaaaaay!” Terushima sat down in his chair but immediately rolled over so he was sitting next to Kagami. He rested his chin on the man’s shoulders and hummed. “Lay it on us, Kags!”

Kagami exhaled slowly and started running off their itinerary for the day. FERAL had a studio recording session today in the afternoon. After that a reporter from Rokkyou was scheduled to get an inside scoop on a typical session in the studio with the band, plus some hints about their next album. Following that would be a photoshoot for the cover and then solo activities.

“And Yuuji,” Kagami flipped to the next page, “You’ll be coming with me to meet the dean of the university we’ll be performing at next week.”

“Why me!”

“Because you’re the leader of FERAL. The face of the group. And the only one free at that time to come meet with me.” Kagami replied evenly. “If I could take someone else, I would.”

“Ouch, that’s rough. You could have said because I was your favorite.”

“And lie?” Terushima gasped, snickers and whistles erupted around the room. He pouted and Kagami grinned. “Favoritism isn’t a tenant I practice.”

“Sounds fake ,” Terushima heard Arata say. He opened his mouth to make a very witty and well thought out remark when Kagami cut in.

“Don’t start,” he warned Terushima. Then he turned to the rest of the group. “Today’s studio session is all out. We hit the ground running the minute we’re in there. Our album release is scheduled next week and I want everyone sounding like they’re pros. ” he made eye contact with every band member before locking eyes with Terushima, who had sat back now that conversation had turned serious. “You guys were an experiment, and you’ve passed your first trial. We can’t afford any mistakes on our second run. Go it?”

Everyone nodded. Terushima double nodded. His legs bounced up and down with unbridled excitement. Going to the studio, just the idea of it alone, could always boil his blood like no other. “Alright bet,” he jumped out of his chair. “What are we sitting around for? Let’s get started.”

Slipping the strap of his guitar over his shoulder would never stop feeling so natural. A kiss could never compare to the pure electricity that ran down Terushima’s spine from his lips touching the metal of the mic. He strummed his guitar, adjusting the nobs at the end as he tuned. The rest of his band mates got into position. Bobata on the second guitar, his right hand man. Arata on piano. Takeharu on drums. And Rintaro on bass. Together they made the band FERAL the powerhouse, rock group of 2018 that they were.

They were, in every essence of the word, just as wild as their band name described. The music they produced always jostled social norms, boundaries. Their first album, JUNGLE WARS was an eclectic mashup of different genres. The men trying out find out what genre they liked best only to decide they wanted everything. It was, as Kagami had described it, an experiment. The band’s existence was a whim by the president who wanted to try something totally . . . unpredictable.

And unpredictable they were. FERAL quickly gained notoriety for their outbursts. No TV host or interviewer could guess what they would say or do or think next. The president said that sort of electric movement, haphazard and dangerous, was just what the music world was missing. Terushima didn’t really get it. He assumed the entertainment industry was used to people who followed social conventions to the letter. Yet, when he gazed around the studio at the guys who had quickly become family in the past months since their debut, all he could see were people who loved making music more than anything else in the world. Fuck everything else.

They were fun, a true and unadulterated riot to be around. Being with them, his band, was like waking up to a different adventure everyday. Sure, they definitely gave their manager a chronic headache but they were living their best lives while doing so.

“Alright boys,” Kagami’s voice crackled over the speakers. “We’re going to do the first half of the album today due to our schedule. So, go ahead.” he leaned back, arms crossed, and suddenly the ball was in their court.

Terushima grinned. “Okay. Let’s do the first song. I wanna try a new opening I thought of last night.”

“Before or after you hooked up with Touko-chan,” Takeharu asked.

“Youko-chan,” Bobata corrected.

Rintaro scrunched up his face, “Seriously dude we just changed the opening two days ago!”

“Before!” Terushima responded. “Also, I know. But I woke up yesterday and hated it so I decided to change it before we went out. I was gonna tell you guys then I...forgot.”

“Cool, cool, love being kept in the roller coaster loop that’s your mind,” Bobata strummed a few chords on his guitar. “So you gonna play it or what?”

“Yup,” Terushima took his stance by the microphone and gave Kagami the thumbs up that they were going to start. Kagami pressed a button and the light above the glass window separating them from outside the booth switched from offline to recording.

The thing about FERAL was that they never played the same track twice. So rather than having a track play and them sing over or play over it, they would hit the recording button and capture whatever magic bloomed from the chaos.

For another band, such a tactic was risky as hell with the potential to end in disaster. Never for FERAL and not if Terushima Yuuij had anything to say about it.

He was excited, itching to show everyone what he’d come up with. The idea had struck him last night after taking a shot of tequila right out of the gates. The same burning, explosive, throat-scarring sting of the shot reverberated with the kind of sound he wanted for their first song. Their opening song, the very first thing their fans would hear once they started the album. He wanted that same feeling--a burning that hit you right to your bones and sat with you for the rest of the night.

He steadied himself. His grin was pure electricity.

The first chord he played was powerful. Loud and sharp , the note rattled everyone to their bones. Then, Terushima swiftly went into several chords, his fingers flying up and down the neck of his guitar. Explosive and reverberating, the sound only lasted a minute but when he was done his fingers were tingling and his lips--they were pulled in the most satisfying , crazed grin. He turned his head and looked back at his bandmates who were all mirroring his grin.

“Whatever the hell that was I’m here for it,” Kagami’s voice crackled once more. “Guys? Think you can piggyback off that?”

“Say no more,” Bobata replied. He turned to Terushima, “You’re a genius sometimes, dude.”

“Thanks, I know.”

After that, the session went on pretty much the same way. The band worked together in chaotic harmony. Someone would change a line, a verse, would hate a phrase of lyrics one minute and completely rewrite a bridge or chorus. By the time the reporter from Rokkyou came through the boys had utterly changed their first sound for their upcoming album.

“Now, FERAL’s known for their pretty unorthodox method of songwriting,” the interviewer, Shou, talked with his hands a lot. His smile was wide, stretched across his face, so much so that Terushima felt his mouth hurting in sympathy. The band had left the studio to sit outside on the benches, taking a much needed water break as they tackled the second portion of their schedule. “Can you tell us a little more about that? I’m sure your fans are dying to get inside that head of yours.”

“Pretty sure that’s not all they’re dying to get inside of,” Terushima muttered low enough that Rintaro snorted. Bobata, who by default was the most mature out of the five took to answering the question.

“Ah, it’s pretty--I don’t even know how to describe it… all over the place? We pretty much creative freedom to do whatever we want and we normally don’t leave the studio until we’re all happy with the sound we’ve made.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Terushima leaned in, arm slung over Bobata’s shoulder. “You see, our albums all have bits and pieces of our own style and ideas. But that’s ‘cause we work so hard to get the right mesh. We could spend hours on a song one day then the next we hate it so we start all over again. But we never end with what we started which I think is pretty cool.”

“How does that even work? If you don’t mind me asking. Surely you guys must worry that you could spend all that time in the studio and end up with nothing?”

The band members exchanged glances. “Nah not really,” Takeharu answered, his tone light. “Our producer wouldn’t let us do what we do if we didn’t get results. We’re a mess, but we’re an orchestrated mess. His words, not mine.”

“We’re also at the mercy of Terushima Yuuji,” Rintaro added with a smirk. “Just the other day the dude walks in saying: GUYS WE’RE CHANGING SONGS 1-5 ON THE ALBUM! Which is like, over half the album and we stayed in there for two days trying to match this dude’s pace.”

“Hey sometimes a tune just doesn’t vibe anymore!” Terushima huffed. The snickers that erupted lightly ruffled him. He frowned and pointed a finger towards Rintaro. “Sides you’re so stuck up with perfection if you don’t get the beat right we have to start all over.”

“It’s called setting the bar .”

“No it’s called being anally retentive.”

“Oh my God he really just said that out loud,” Arata put his face in his hands, slowly shaking his head.

Terushima didn’t care, because now he was engaged in banter with Rintaro with Bobata as the chaotic neutral that neither egged nor stopped them from going at each other’s necks. The reporter could get all this done and publish how much of a highly functioning discord they were. As long as he was able to get the last word in, regardless, he didn't really care. Arata sat in the corner, tired as all hell while Takeharu sneakily captured it all on his phone.

Shou, sadly, was left to navigate himself through the wild that was FERAL .

“AND ANOTHER THING--!”

“Enough, Yuuji.” Kagami’s stern voice cut through their antics. The boys settled down, Terushima even more so sinking into his chair with a pout. Kagami sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I apologize for them. They’re hooligans.”

“Rude,” Bobata said under his breath. Terushima butted him with his elbow. He jumped with a yelp only to be met with Terushima’s childish but oh so satisfied grinned. “ Whipped .”

“Eat my ass,” he whispered in return. He turned to Shou who seemed to have survived their trip in the wild. He was still all smiles and laughter, apparently amused by their display. Good, another positive review for them. Terushima grinned only to feel it falter as Shou asked his next question.

“Alright. So as I’m sure you guys know, you’ve repped quite the name for yourself as being Japan’s resident new bad boys.”

“Oh word?” Terushima’s smirk was lazy. “We wear leather pants one time and suddenly we’re hooligans!”

“I wouldn’t say it was just the pants,” Shou continued, eyebrow raised. “If there’s a party in the city there’s no doubt one or all of you won’t make an appearance. Or cause a scene somewhere . Japan’s hooked on you guys! Saying whatever you want, doing whatever you want. Especially you, Terushima-san.”

Shou’s eyes cut to him and Terushima, relaxed against the couch, raised an eyebrow. “Tabloids love writing about your many exploits, romantically or otherwise. You’ve capitalized yourself on being this wild, playboy who takes no names and all the prisoners.”

“I dunno if I liked how you said that,” Terushima joked, but he didn’t deny it. He was all for strings when they weren’t attached. Tersuhima and commitment were like night and day. Never to touch, never to coexist in the same realm, always to miss each other by running parallel lines. This wasn’t the first time a reporter commented on his exploits, it probably wouldn’t be the last either. So he laughed it off, as he usually did.

He let the world paint him as a playboy. Getting upset every time someone brought it up would be stupid.

Shou didn’t look too perturbed. Asshole. “Sorry, sorry. I can rephrase if you like. What I want to know, if we’re going to be honest, is if you ever see yourself falling in love? Surely you must have met someone in this industry that’s caught your interest for the long run.”

All five of them looked at one another before breaking out into laughter. Terushima laughed the hardest. He clutched his stomach and hollered, tears forming at his eyes. Then they felt ice on their backs and a cough that no doubt came from Kagami. The men gathered their wits, Terushima being the last to come down from his high before answering the question.

“Love? Yeah no, not in this century dude. Unless it’s to the music I’m never getting married. But that’s just me, Arata over there is a huge hopeless romantic. Lemme tell you about this female singer he’s hilariously in love with but she doesn’t even know his name,” it’s so easy to deflect, to move the attention from him and his behavior to someone else. Arata sputtered and Bobata beside him snorted. Though Terushima catches the quick side glance he sends his way. Terushima, of course, ignored it. There was nothing to talk about, and he wasn’t bothered by the question. His life was on display, of course people were going to poke holes.

That’s why he always smiled and waved and gave them what they expected. No need in putting in extra effort to do otherwise.

Terushima kicked his feet up into the dashboard, arms resting behind his head as Kagami drove them to the university FERAL would be performing at next week. He shot a glance at his manager who kept concentrated on the road. Even as Terushima haphazardly changed songs on the radio through his phone every thirty seconds.

“Seriously can’t you drop me off at home? I don’t wanna go!”

“You’re being a child,” Kagami chided, not having any of Terushima’s bullshit today or tomorrow or the day after that.

Terushima frowned (read, pouted). “I’m not! I’m tired! I worked and slaved long hard hours in the studio! Got grilled by a reporter! And now you won’t even treat me to food!”

“We’re getting fed once we get there. You also ate five minutes ago.”

“I’m a growing boy, Kags!”

“You’re twenty.”

“A growing twenty-year old boy!”

Kagami shook his head, chuckling despite himself. Terushima beamed, proud of himself for getting the stoic Kagami to crack even if it was only a little bit. Honestly he was happy to accompany his manager on the trip. He owed Kagami a lot. He dealt with a lot of his bullshit over the years even before his debut. If it weren’t for Kagami he had no idea where he’d be right now. Surely not living in a nice place surrounded by people, fed, warm…

Terushima skipped to the next song.

“Remember my rule?” Kagami asked as they made a right turn. Terushima caught the sign for the university, Sendai University 3km away as they did.

“Uhhhh, no sex before marriage?”

“I’m fairly sure you already broke that but no.”

“Say my prayers before bedtime?”

“Do you get off on being difficult?”

“Yes, incredibly. It’s my kink.” Terushima stuck his tongue out, tongue ring flashes while Kagami’s grip on the wheel tightened. Riling him up would never not be fun. “Sorry about the songs! You know I get bored easily. I can only focus for like, fifteen seconds before the part I like plays and I wanna move on.”

“It’s amazing how your mind works,” there was a pause and then Kagami quickly glanced at Terushima. “How are you feeling?”

There was an undercurrent to his words. Terushima’s mind flashed to the interview and he shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I know what I’m doing and how people like to talk. If it gets us more attention that’s a good thing, yeah?”

“Not at the expense of reducing yourself to…”

“Kagami, seriously. It’s all good. I claim my man whoreness,” he smiled lazily and scrubbed through the song to get to his favorite part. The piano grew louder, the drums softly following suit, and the singer’s voice rising with the crescendo. “Honestly it could be worse. I don’t even wanna know how they’d treat me if I were a girl.”

“All hail the patriarchy,” Kagami’s tone oozed sarcasm. Terushima laughed and changed the song again which caused Kagami to growl and Terushima to laugh even harder.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot Kagami had angrily jammed the off button on his radio and almost confiscated Terushima’s phone. But he was took quick. He unbuckled himself and leapt out of the car, stretching his arms out wide as the spring sun hit him square in the face.

“Wow, nice campus,” Terushima whistled, watching as college students mingled and chatted amongst one another. Terushima was concealed with the stereotypical civilian starter pack: a hoodie, hat, and shades.

Sendai University was large, with white buildings separated by lush green grass with sidewalks running in between. College, a world in the past that Terushima was assaulted with constantly. Now, that time period and the entire prospect seemed like a far off, blurry dream. He never thought he’d end up on a campus. Granted, he’s here for his job but still…

“Our guide is meeting us in the gymnasium.” Kagami adjusted his tie, loosening it around the neck.

“Why the gym?” last time he checked they were performing in an outside venue provided by the college.

“You’ll see,” Terushima was not a fan of such a cryptic message but his curiosity was winning him over. He followed with a grumble as Kagami led him towards the gym. He seemed to know his way around, and Terushima was scratching back in his memory if a conversation ever popped up about Kagami’s university days. He knew being a manager wasn’t his first choice. But the blanks weren’t being filled…

They arrived at the gym and the first thing Terushima heard was the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor. He immediately flashed back to highschool. To days where his jersey was soaked and his muscles were sore and he stood on a court surrounded by teammates that felt more like family than his own.

He’s grabbed out of his thoughts by the sharp sound of a whistle cutting through the air. Terushima watched as the volleyball players huddled together around someone, probably their captain. He said something that got the men energized before they all broke apart to clean up. Only the captain remained, who was approached by some old guy. The coach maybe? They exchanged words when Kagami called after them.

“Yo, Ukai!” Kagami hollered. Terushima watched as Ukai, some blond dude, turned his head. The minute their eyes met Ukai’s face broke out into a brilliant smile and he hustled over to Kagami for a hug.

“Kagami! It’s been ages, buddy!”

Kagami patted his back. “I know. Work’s been time consuming, but I’m glad we can cross paths like this. Thank you for meeting with us.”

“No man, I should be thanking you.” Ukai pulled back and patted him on the shoulder. “The fact that your band could perform at our school’s music festival is… honestly amazing. The principal hasn’t stopped kissing my ass since! Honestly this year’s Christmas bonus is looking pretty hefty and I have you to thank for that.”

“You two know each other?” Terushima asked, still shaken up from seeing Kagami actually hug someone.

“Ah, right. Introductions are in order. Yuuji this is Ukai Keishin A friend from my university days. He’s the volleyball coach here.”

“That’s me, Kagami and I go way back. When he told me you guys would be performing here I couldn’t resist hitting him up again. Ah,” Ukai turned around, back to the captain who was still in the gym doing a workout. “Daichi! Come over here for a minute.”

Daichi, Terushima figured, was built like a house. Broad shoulders and impressive muscles, especially in his arms. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the shoulders so as he ran, and his arms moved, Terushima could catch the glimpse of subtle flexing. He was taller than him, that’s for sure, and the way he carried himself as he strode over to them exuded casual confidence.

This man was sure of himself, grounded in whatever concept or idea of his being he held true.

Terushima lowered his shades and whistled, “Oh you’re cute.”

“Yuuji!” Kagami hissed. Daichi blinked and Ukai choked on his laugh. “I’m sorry. He has no filter.”

“Wrong. I have a filter i just don’t use it.”

“Which is a problem .”

Terushima’s grin was lazy as he, without shame, gave Daichi a once over. Daichi remained unphased, matching Terushima’s gaze. Terushima’s grin only increased. Would he break? Would he show discomfort? Or would he go on seemingly unphased by his behavior? The possibilities were endless and Terushima hoped he wouldn’t disappoint.

Daichi, after a beat, simply grinned with his eyes closed. “Oh this is your friend, Ukai-san? A pleasure,” he bowed slightly to Kagami who bowed back in return. When he opened his eyes the gaze he gave Terushima was brutal. Burnt, empty embers that held no amusement in their gaze. It rocked him to his core and he was frozen up until Daichi bowed towards him.

“And you’re Terushima Yuuji?” the way he said his name made ice prickle on Terushima’s skin. As if saying his name bored him, tasted like acid, or was a waste of breath to even utter.

Oh. Well then.

Terushima didn’t bother bowing back, hands in his pocket. “Yup. Lead singer of FERAL and Japan’s resident bad boy hottie at your service.”

“With all due respect I think I’ll stick to calling you Terushima-san.” Dachi’s voice was clipped. Terushima’s lips twitched.

“You can call me whatever you like, babe~” Flirting came as easily as breathing to Terushima and really, he wanted to see Daichi crack, twitch, do something but Daichi was impenetrable. It was like Terushima’s words were going in one ear and out the other.

“Okaay uh, well!” Ukai cut in, clearing his throat. “Daichi like we talked about you’re gonna take Terushima on a quick tour around campus. I’ll catch up with Kagami and we’ll meet back here in an hour to meet with the principal about the concert.”

Terushima wanted to claw out his eyeballs. He’d much rather explore the campus on his own, or with Kagami, rather than Daichi. Sure, teasing him would be fun just to see how many cracks (if at all) he could put into that armor but at the same time the dude seemed like a stick in the mud. No fun and definitely a pain in the ass if and when Terushima got into trouble. However, he knew Kagami wouldn’t let him roam free without some form of leash. And, when he looked back at his manager, Kagami looked pretty pumped to hang out with an old friend.

The things I do for the people I love, he sighed, jamming his hands in his pockets and pushing his shades back up his nose. “Yeah okay. Whatever. Let’s get this show on the road.” Terushima drawled.

Kagami nodded, “Right. Enjoy your tour and don’t give Daichi too much trouble, Yuuji. I’ll see you in an hour.” he turned and Ukai threw an arm over his shoulder as the two fell into comfortable chattering over the past, the present, the future, the whatever it was two old men talked about when they reunited after years apart.

They left Daichi and Terushima in awkward, uncomfortable silence. Terushima looked down at his adidas then back to Daichi. “So, the tour?”

Daichi nodded, it was a tight jerky movement. Man this dude really didn’t like him. Who knew a little flirting was enough to set him on edge? “Right. Can I shower really fast, and then we can go?”

It’s on the tip of Terushima’s pierced tongue to offer assistance. And the voice in his mind that sounded oddly like Kagami told him to hold back but alas, Terushima was a man of no restraint so his flirtation fell easily from his lips. “Sure. Mind if I tag along?”

“Very much so,” Daichi had this way of saying things so politely yet so sharply. Like he’d stab you and smile through it all as you bled out onto the floor. Terushima laughed, watching Daichi turn on his heel and head for the showers.

This tour would either end up being the death of him, the death of Daichi, or the death of them both and honestly? He was kinda looking forward to it.

#haikyuu fanfiction #terudai #hq fanfic #hq fanfiction #my fanfic.

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deecherrywolf · 7 years

Text

You won’t find him in any lady

I have so many other things to write and work on and what do I do?? I write a fic based on @thegirlinthefandom‘s fortune teller au! Can’t wait to see the next part(s), this is just a fic based on it - not what will happen next lmao

Hope whoever reads enjoys and thank you for reading.

I can’t reveal the exact identity, but… you won’t find him in any lady.

It was like an anchor had been dropped within the sea on which he traveled, rippling the waters and rocking his boat, only briefly, before it pulled him to a halt. Of course he could always ignore what she said - a lot of fortune tellers were scam artists, right? A lot of movies portrayed them as such so it wasn’t like it was impossible for that to be the case. And yet… and yet Lance couldn’t help but feel that the woman hadn’t been lying, that she had truly glimpsed at something and that made Lance consider her words carefully.

Him.

It wasn’t like Lance had anything against homosexuality - but he definitely wasn’t raised to think about it, so he never did. Girls had… well, girls had always been his top priorities when it came to romance, because why not? Girls were cute, smelled great, and were usually pretty nice to talk to. There were exceptions of course, but in Lance’s mind, ladies were the best.

So to be told by a fortune teller that his romance would not include a she, but a he… it was a lot to take in.

“You’ve been quiet, did that fortune teller do something?”

Lance looked at Keith, who was looking quite serious and ready to turn back around and beat up the fortune teller. Lance rolled his eyes.

“Chill, she didn’t do anything.”

Except she did, she opened this seemingly endless pit in Lance’s mind, where his thoughts continued to tumble down and down, floating endlessly. The more Lance thought about it, the more it made sense to him - is that why he hasn’t had any success with any of his flirtings out in space? Was he chasing the wrong gender the entire time?

Maybe he needed to open his mind a little and expand his horizons. Maybe he’d find his future lover within the body of a man, whatever. Lance wasn’t prejudiced, he’d like to think he’d welcome whatever love he’d receive - but it was a jarring, if only a little. He knew he still liked ladies, preferred them even - but…

He definitely could see the aesthetic pleasure of men, could understand the attraction and could definitely admit to being attracted to some guys.

Okay, so maybe… maybe he was a little bi?

“Are you sure she didn’t do anything? You look like shit.”

Keith’s brows were pinched and face tense, ready to fight. Lance swallowed and then cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure how he looked right now, but his face felt cool and he knew his blood had probably drained from it - it wasn’t every day you realized you were actually pretty sexually fluid. Lance shook his head.

“No, it’s probably just the food goo not settling with me from this morning, leave the lady alone.”

“If you say so.”

Lance knew Keith wasn’t buying it, but he didn’t care - he had other things to think about, like how he should approach this news and this new revelation about himself.

–

Keith didn’t know what had gotten into Lance, but it was beginning to agitate him. Not that that was unusual, Lance was rather irritating, even on his good days - but most of the time Keith endured it and even found it… amusing, at times. But this new personality trait that was emerging within the new Red Paladin was… well, Keith wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

The first change had happened at an alliance meeting - a group of aliens had agreed to enter the Voltron Alliance, and while everyone had assumed Lance would be hitting on their queen - a beautiful being, tall and willowy with soft features, hell, even Keith could admit she was stunning.

But oddly enough, Lance was charming a different alien.

The queen’s son.

What the ever loving hell.

No one had said anything, at least not at the meeting, but Keith had been sure they were all thinking the same thing, wondering the same thing.

‘Did Lance know that was a prince, not a princess?’

But really, he had to know. The prince was unmistakably male, there was no way that anyone could really mistake it. But maybe Lance…

“Dude, since when were you into dudes?”

Keith watched Hunk and Lance, waiting for Lance to flip out ‘That was a guy!?’ or something like that - it wouldn’t be surprising as Lance hadn’t realized Pidge was a girl. But instead of a flip out, Lance merely shrugged.

“Space is vast my friend, why should I limit myself and the universe for that matter.”

That had been surprising, but more importantly, a strange sensation bubbled within Keith - its boiling temperature flaring inside of him. He wasn’t even sure what was causing this, but he could definitely blame Lance.

He got up and left without preamble - hearing Lance mutter ‘what’s up with him?’, but he ignored it. This strange feeling would go away.

–

The strange feeling did not go away.

It only got worse as each time they encountered a new alien group, Lance proceeded to hit on the most attractive male of their species he could find - ignoring all of the females. And with each smile, each wink and each brush of skin, Keith felt his agitation grow and grow.

What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like Lance flirting was anything new, he did that all the time! But this… this was different and it bothered Keith more than he liked to admit.

But why?

Lance sighed as he sat down on the common room couch. “I think that went well.”

“What, the mission or your tomfoolery?” asked Pidge, raising an eyebrow but no real malice in those eyes - if anything, she looked just as puzzled as Keith felt over this development.

Lance crossed his arms. “Um, excuse you, my flirting is not tomfoolery, for all we know, we could have just met the future Mr. Red Lion.”

“You’re Mr. Red Lion.” said Keith, trying to reign in his annoyance, ignoring the flare of indignation at Lance waving a hand at him.

“Details, details.”

“Look, I know you are always like… this, but I think you need to tone it done a bit. You’re going to get us in trouble with the way you’re behaving.”

Lance frowned, finally looking at Keith full on. “You’ve never had a problem with it before, unless… Oh, my god, are you a homophobe?”

Keith scowled, temper flaring. “No! I’m not a homophobe-”

“Then… you’re jealous?”

“Of what!?”

“Enough!” order Allura, eyes narrowing at the two of them. “That is enough; Lance, you must realize we all are a little taken aback by your choices lately, it is a big shift.”

‘…Fair enough, I guess.”

“And, Keith is right. You’ve been rather adamant lately, perhaps toning it down just a smidge wouldn’t hurt?”

“I agree,” said Hunk, looking at his friend with worry. “You’ve been coming off as really desperate lately, man. Is everything alright?”

Keith couldn’t help but notice a flash of panic in those eyes. Lance huffed.

“Can’t a guy just indulge in his sexuality a bit?”

“We’re not trying to say you can’t explore that side of yourself-”

“I am.” said Pidge, her nose wrinkled, but Allura continued. “Just that you tone it down.”

“And be more careful.” said Keith, stepping closer to Lance now, way within a personal bubble. He rested his hand on Lance’s shoulder - grip firm and squeezing it reassuringly - but at that simple touch, Keith felt that sizzle - just like he had went Lance had done the same thing to him, a spark that sent an all too pleasant shiver down his spine.

“You never know who you may get involved with.”

They held eye contact for a moment longer and it was so quiet they could probably hear a pin drop.

Coran was the one who broke the silence. “Now that that’s settled, should I inform you all of our next coordinates?”

Keith and Lance broke away and turned to Coran - everyone following suit as they exited the common room to head to the main deck. While the way there, Keith couldn’t help but go over his and Lance’s exchange back there, Lance’s words… was he jealous?

It almost made him stop where he was and he may have if he wasn’t mindful of the others around him. Why would he be jealous? What was there to be jealous of? It made no sense. And yet… Keith looked at Lance, who was unaware of his attentions. A strange pull in his chest made him jerk his attention away from Lance and focused on what Coran had to say once they were in the main deck - he didn’t need to think about whatever was going on inside of his chest, he just needed to focus on the missions.

–

Lance knew what he was doing was a little off… and the others may see it as desperate, but ever since leaving that planet with the fortune teller, Lance had been having strange thoughts and even stranger feelings. He couldn’t get rid of the fortune teller’s words that bounced around in his memory and with that, had come intrusive thoughts about things he hadn’t wanted to picture. To say the least, he had thoughts about his teammates he never had ever even thought of before. He would look closely at Hunk’s swollen arms, Shiro’s chiseled chest and chin, and then Keith- god, it made him embarrassed how often he had stared at Keith.

So what better way to avoid staring at his friends out of this new curiosity than to focus on flirting with more aliens.

Lance considered himself pretty pansexual by now, given how many varieties of aliens he’d been hitting on as of late. But all his flirting had backfired on him, as it had caught his teammate’s attention and Lance wasn’t sure how he felt about that, especially the curious and concerned looks he garnered from a certain black paladin.

Just like he was right now.

He could feel Keith’s eyes burn into him as he chatted it up with one of the aliens that they were working with now. The alien was cute, humanoid but with four eyes, that tilted upward and pointed ears. One of those eyes on the side of his head glanced away and then back to Lance.

“It appears your leader wants a word with you.”

Lance felt a strange flutter in his chest. “Nah, he’s just keeping an eye on me.”

The alien looked confused for a moment before he flashed his fangs in what looked to be a grin - but it definitely looked devious with those sharp teeth. “Is there a reason for that.”

One positive thing about flirting with males was that they often flirted back, as long as Lance played his cards right. Most female aliens would titter or ignore him, but the men? They would either get offended or give as good as they got.

“Maybe, want to find out?”

The alien smiled, about to continue when Keith approached.

“Lance, we have to get going - Allura finished her discussion with the King, we’ve secured the alliance.”

Lance couldn’t help but feel a strange bubble of elation at Keith’s narrowed gaze that was directed at the alien, but at the same time - he felt irritation welling inside of him too. He was having a nice time flirting with this guy and here came Keith, to ruin it as always. He waved bye to the alien and followed after Keith, noticing Pidge at a stall, eying trinkets. His brow furrowed.

If they were in a hurry to leave, why was Pidge taking her time?

He frowned, looking at Keith who continued to walk briskly. Lance was about to open his mouth to question him when he noticed the redness of Keith’s ears - pink against the black of his hair and for some reason, it made Lance’s heart pound.

You won’t find him in any lady.

Lance quickened his pace, matching stride with Keith now, who slowed down now as they made their way back to the castleship, the fortune teller’s words bouncing in his head as he walked side by side with Keith now - their shoulders nearly brushing and their body heat mingling, making Lance all the more aware of the way Keith was making him feel right now.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Lance couldn’t wipe off that smile even with Keith’s suspicious tone. “No reason.”

He ignored Keith’s gaze on him until finally the other looked away from him. It was then Lance glanced at Keith from the corner of his eyes, noting the pink that was barely there on those cheeks - he was obviously embarrassed by his behavior, and man… Lance found it endearing.

Lance wasn’t going to question Keith and didn’t intend to - he knew if he did the other would bluster and deny what he had just done. For now, Lance would keep it to himself, but even so, he couldn’t help but feel a strange beacon of hope that he hadn’t really considered before, because maybe… just maybe, he’s Mr. Red Lion had always been right there in front of him.

#klance #thegirlinthefandom #myfics

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