#this collab was super unexpected but also really good | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arvandus · 3 years

Text

Icarus (Overhaul x F!Reader)

Ah yes, once again so late on this. This one gave me grief because the characters kept deviating from what I had originally planned. >.< But I worked through it, and here we are.

This is for the BNHarem's “On The Job” Collab for May, which you can find here.

Also, don’t judge my super simple title headings for my fics 😂 I always do these late at night when I should be asleep, so generic background with fancy text is the best I got to offer.

Trigger Warnings: 18+ ONLY! 1 instance of aggression/abuse (hair grabbing/pulling - nonsexual), unprotected sex (fun in fiction, dumb IRL), mutual masturbation, overstimulation, bondage via quirk abuse, degradation...

I think that about covers it. Once again, I’m terrible at TWs so let me know if I missed anything or if anything is inaccurate. 😬 I just kinda write what I want and don’t really think about the labels when I’m doing it.

Pairing: Overhaul x F!Reader

Word Count: 8281

You hadn’t meant to get caught. Really, you weren’t even sure what had possessed you to do it in the first place. Desperation? Horniness? Stupidity?

All of the above?

All you knew was that it was a poor decision brought forth by the gradual culmination of a single annoying, unavoidable fact: you were disgustingly, shamefully, sinfully attracted to Kai Chisaki.

You weren’t exactly sure how or when it started. There was no “aha” moment, no “big bang” of desire. Instead, it was subtle, gradually coating your unsuspecting mind like layers of sediment. A shiver down your spine when he spoke your name. The quickening of your pulse at the briefest of eye contact. And the ever-growing presence of intrusive, curious thoughts.

Like his hands. You always noticed them, the white of his gloves drawing your attention like a beacon whenever he was within eyesight. They were dangerous hands, deadly weapons that you’d seen in action firsthand. They were a thing to be feared and avoided. But some strange part of you couldn’t help but wonder... what did they feel like? You imagined they’d be soft and perfectly manicured, oddly delicate for such a violent man; gentle hands packed with destructive power.

Or his lips. They were always covered by his mask. You never, ever saw him without it. You imagined what your name would look like on them as he spoke, how they’d feel on your skin. Would his lips also be soft? How about his kisses? Would they be cautious and controlled, or rough and hungry?

It didn’t help that he was, in his own way, very attractive. Just like how his dangerous hands were hidden within innocent white gloves, he was the devil hidden behind a pretty face. A sharp, beautiful jawline. Smooth porcelain skin. A crown of auburn red hair, closely cropped, but still long enough to run fingers through.

You bet that part of him was soft too.

The one part of him that wasn’t soft were his eyes. They were beautiful, certainly… as gold as Heaven’s gates and framed in long, perfect lashes. But they lacked the warmth of Heaven. Instead, they spoke of cold arrogance. And if you stared into them long enough, you could see a barely contained disgust lurking beneath their haughty exterior.

The disgust didn’t bother you, not anymore. Everyone disgusted Chisaki, and everyone in the Shie Hassaikai knew it. He even made his closest confidants, some he’d known since childhood, wear masks so he wouldn’t share the same air with them.

He had you wear a mask too, of course. Simple and white, it covered only your lower face, much like his own. That much you were grateful for, considering some of the masks you’d seen others wearing. Your only explanation for the slightly less coverage was that your secretarial position made you a frequent point of contact for those outside of the organization. You handled incoming calls, visitors, and scheduled meetings between Chisaki and his affiliates. No doubt he wanted to ensure you were making a good impression while still operating within his mysophobic requirements.

First impressions were everything to Kai. Even more so since he took the Boss’s place under dubious circumstances. Still, his long-held reputation for extremist thinking and violence preceded him, and not everyone was in support of his unexpected promotion. As a result, many people within the organization parted ways following Chisaki’s rise to power... and soon after they mysteriously went missing, never to be heard from or located again. You had no doubt that it was Chisaki tying up loose ends by sealing loose lips. After all, they say the mouth is the source of disaster. And Chisaki valued confidentiality above all else.

The message he sent was clear: adapt or die. When given such colorful options, the choice on whether to go or stay became a simple one.

So, you adapted. As long as you followed orders, kept your eyes down and your mouth shut, you were safe. After all, it was better to be the right hand of the devil than to be in his path. The only person you really had to fear was Chisaki himself, and you knew him well enough by now to know how to stay on his good side.

And all in all, it really wasn’t all that bad. Sure, you had to orchestrate the occasional clean-up when he disposed of someone who displeased him. But that wasn’t much different than what you’d dealt with when you worked for the Boss, either. Sure, the aftermath was messier and it happened far more often. But violence was violence, and when you worked with the Yakuza long enough, you got used to it. And despite the odd working conditions and ever-present undertone of danger, you remained good at your job. As such, Chisaki brooked no complaint. He tolerated you, and you tolerated him. Interactions were brief, words exchanged were polite and respectful even though they lacked warmth. But it was just a job, right? You didn’t need warmth.

So why did you feel so dissatisfied? Why did you constantly feel that something was missing, a longing you couldn’t entirely describe?

The need only ever waned when Chisaki was in your presence, whether it was to discuss upcoming meetings or simply passing by your desk to get to his office. The dissatisfaction would melt away into a warmth that extended deep into your fingertips whenever the cold-hearted man bothered to look you in the eyes. And when he wasn’t looking at you? It was like being thrown into a winter blizzard, the aching cold returning to pull the corners of your mouth down into a silent frown.

You craved his attention. It was shameful and pathetic and you could only imagine the scorn he’d give you if he knew, but you didn’t care. To be graced with the attention of a man who cared for no one brought a different kind of satisfaction. The rare treats of attention Chisaki did grant you, whether intended or not, scratched an itch that only he could scratch.

As time passed, the intrusive thoughts became more frequent, evolving from odd curiosities to shameless lust. They began to occupy your dreams, forcing you awake with a hot ache between your legs. That was when you really began to realize how in deep you were. It wasn’t just a simple “attraction.” You wanted him. At first you tried to deny and ignore, suppress and excuse. After all, this was Overhaul. Wanting him was like wanting the sun in your hand, and just as dangerous. Apparently though, it made little difference to your hormone-addled brain. It didn’t help that the secretive, forbidden thoughts brought their own special addictive flavor of the taboo.

You began to act different in front of him. Nothing too obvious, of course. After all, you knew Chisaki wasn’t the type to indulge in desperate women. To be honest, you weren’t even sure Chisaki indulged in women at all. All you did know was that whenever women tried to gain his favor through flirtation, Chisaki quickly and harshly shut it down.

So, it was little things... the extra second to release a paper from your grip after he’d grabbed it, the lingering of a glance. You didn’t so much change the style of your attire – skirts and blouses were already the norm for your position – but you changed the colors. A blouse that matched the purple feathery softness of his jacket, golden jewelry that matched his eyes. Little messages waiting in secret to be picked up, yet subtle enough that they could be excused as nothing more than coincidence. It was risky, but the thrill of the game gave you an outlet for your roiling feelings. In the end though, it made no difference. There was nothing about you that seemed important enough to turn Chisaki’s head more than was professionally necessary.

Which is where the state of things were when you found yourself alone in his office one evening. You had thought he was still working at the time. You’d stepped away to shred some incriminating documents and burn the scraps in the kiln outside. It was your last task for the day, so you’d entered Chisaki’s office to announce your departure for the evening. Except when you entered, the space was empty, with all traces of him gone. No papers remained on his desk. His gloves and plague mask were gone. With an annoyed huff you had stood there, bothered that you’d missed him.

Quietly, you walked to his desk, and gently caressed the mahogany wood. It was immaculate of course, free of dirt and fingerprints. You knew it would be because he cleaned his space every evening before he left, and you cleaned it every morning before he arrived.

You sighed as you retrieved the paper towels and cleaning solution. No harm in giving it a second scrub to save yourself some time tomorrow morning. It wasn’t like anyone would be foolish enough to enter this space without Chisaki present anyway.

You should have just left it at that. But as you walked around his desk to wipe the surface with the damp towel, your bare legs just below your skirt bumped his chair. Soft leather, still warm from where he had sat, greeted your exposed skin.

That should have been your first clue.

But your mental alarms never sounded. Instead, you figured you had just missed him.

You should have just left, but you didn’t. The warmth on the chair was enticing you. He was gone, right? Left for the evening. What harm could it do to indulge just a little bit? With your heart pounding with excitement, you carefully sat down in the warm leather. Immediately the scent of Chisaki’s body wash and clean clothes cradled you.

That should have been your second clue.

But you were already too wrapped up in your enjoyment. You relished in the sensations, leaning back as you closed your eyes. It was the closest you’d ever felt to him, as if his very presence was there with you. Your desire purred deep in your gut at receiving its first nibble of satisfaction. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was there, holding you.

Your kept your eyes closed as your imagination began to take root like weeds in your mind, making your skin feel hot. Your fingers grazed the inside of your thigh, dipping beneath your skirt while your heart pounded. What if those were his fingers? The vision combined with the sensations of touch and smell were delicious, and you wanted more. You dragged the pads of your fingertips up even higher, your arm starting to push your skirt up with it. Your legs parted easily, as you let out a shaky breath.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Not here of all places. But there was something so sinfully satisfying about it, the danger only heightening the sensations. After all, the reward was only as great as the risk it took to earn it. And this was the highest risk you could take, short of literally throwing yourself at him. Besides, it wasn’t like your fantasies were ever going to come true. Maybe satisfying yourself - right here, right now – would be enough to finally give you the peace of mind you needed.

And dear God, did you need it. You could already feel the heat growing in your loins, the moisture dampening your panties. Your fingers finally brushed against the warm cotton fabric covering your sex and you let out a soft gasp.

What Chisaki didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. ��He was gone, right? And you were going to clean up any traces of your little visit before you left. He’d be none the wiser.

Your fingers slipped beneath your underwear to meet the hot, slick flesh of your folds, your clit already plump and ready with arousal. You knew it wouldn’t take you long to cum, but you wanted to enjoy this, to savor it as the only opportunity you’d get. You certainly weren’t going to do this again.

So, you teased yourself, fingertips softly dragging slow circles around your entrance before dipping in. A shaky moan left your lips, the quickening of your breaths matching the racing of your heart. In and out you dragged your fingers, relishing in your sleek, sensitive walls, occasionally breaking your rhythm to spread your juices over your swollen labia. You revisited your clit and stifled your moan with a bite of your lip as you began to slowly massage it with practiced skill. It felt so fucking good. The scent of yourself mingled with the scent of Chisaki, and you spread your legs wider, leaning back farther into the seat. You could feel the surge beginning to swell, and you knew it would be soon. Vivid fantasies danced on the inside of your eyelids, and you were fully enthralled, fingers skimming fast circles over your swollen bud as your other hand began to massage your breast through your blouse.

“Fuuuuuckk....Kai....” You moaned.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The familiar voice made you jump so hard, you nearly fell out of the chair as your eyes flew wide open.

There was Kai Chisaki, staring down at you from across the desk – his desk. And there were you, sitting in his chair, spread eagle.

Your breath was knocked out of you and you felt light-headed with panic. You caught sight of the shoji screen behind him, wide open to the evening air.

FUCK. Of course. You forgot to check outside. He must have stepped out for some fresh air before returning to his office.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. You hadn’t heard him enter. How long had he been standing there??

“I asked you a question.” The man seethed through his plague mask. His gloved hands were clenched into angry fists, and his eyes... eyes that you’d always craved to see you... well, they saw you now, and you were terrified.

Immediately, you closed your legs and stood up from his chair. Your mouth babbled soundlessly before your voice finally came, tight and small.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology.” He hissed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You blubbered.

“Come. Here.” Chisaki demanded.

You obeyed, struggling to adjust your skirt as you approached him from around his desk.

“I didn’t tell you to touch your clothes.” His tone was quiet and constrained yet sharp as a razor’s edge, each word uttered with meticulous precision.

You stared at him in shock as you slowly removed your hands from your rumpled clothing. His eyes raked over you, top to bottom, and left you feeling... exposed.

“Look at you...” he grumbled. “Disgusting.”

His mask was unnerving, blocking the lower half of his face and keeping you from being able to fully read his facial expression. His gold eyes were threatening – predatory like a wolf.

He was going to kill you. You knew it was coming. He’d killed others for far less. But you weren’t ready for it. You didn’t want to die.

You dropped to your knees and bowed low in front of him, shrinking yourself to fit beneath his harsh glare. “Please, Mr. Chisaki-“

“Overhaul.”

“Overhaul!” you corrected, as you bowed your head lower to the ground. “Please forgive me. I meant no disrespect.”

“No disrespect?” he sneered. “You debase yourself in my seat, my place of business, and claim no disrespect??”

His left hand reached forward at lightning speed and grabbed you by your hair, forcing your head back until you were looking him straight up at him. You winced against his harsh hold on you, yet clenched your teeth in an effort to keep your silence. He glared down at you as his next words came out through what you could clearly hear as clenched teeth.

“Clean it up.”

With that, he shoved you away from him. On shaking, clumsy legs you pushed yourself to your feet and made your way back to his desk, your skin hot with shame and your ears ringing.

You did as he commanded, grabbing the cleaning solution and spraying his seat before carefully, meticulously, wiping every inch of the rich leather. Minutes passed in silence as you made sure that no spot went unnoticed, even ensuring that the table was once again cleaned as well. By the time you had finished, Kai’s temper seemed to have dwindled to a simmering flame. His hands were no longer clenched in fists at his sides. Instead, they were tucked deep into his pockets as he supervised you. It did little to comfort you though... you knew that Chisaki’s reflexes were faster than you could dodge. He’d catch you before you even reached the door.

Not that you’d try to. You knew better.

When the chair was finally pristine, you disposed of the last of the soiled paper towels in the wastebin and returned the cleaning solution to its home. The task was done, but you didn’t stop. You picked up the trash can with the intent of disposing of its contents; you knew Chisaki wouldn’t want it sitting in his office.

It was all to buy you time. Time to figure out what to say or what do to convince Chisaki to spare your life. But you didn’t even make it to the door before Chisaki’s voice halted your retreat.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I... I was just...” you stammered.

“I didn’t give you permission to leave.”

You swallowed and set down the trashcan. He approached you slowly, until he was a mere few inches from you. He was so close that you could smell his cleanliness and see the pupils of his eyes dilate as he stared at you. Slowly, he grabbed the mask that was covering your mouth and nose and removed it from your head. You stopped breathing.

There was something... electric in the air. You could feel it on your skin, making your hairs stand on end and your flesh tighten with goosebumps. His eyes peered at you intently, taking in every subtlety of your face. Your lips, your eyes, your skin... and beneath the weight of his stare, you could feel the fear start to transform, replaced by something else entirely. Something familiar that’d been plaguing you for months, lighting your veins with fire and threatening to incinerate you if it wasn’t released. After all, part of his allure was the danger. And he hadn’t killed you yet, which meant... something.

Chisaki’s gaze began to wander beyond just your face, taking in your still rumpled clothes. The top couple buttons of your blouse were undone, exposing the skin of your neck and the edges of your bra. Your skirt was still askew, and although he couldn’t see it, you became acutely aware of your still-damp underwear trapped between your folds from when you had hastily closed your legs earlier. You stared back at him, waiting for him to do something, say something.

And that’s when you noticed it... a faint flush across his pale cheeks, peaking out from beneath his mask. His chest was rising and falling with each breath, and it was as if he were contemplating something, silently weighing a decision in his closed-off mind.

A strange bubbling sensation began to build within your chest, foreign and oddly out of place.

Hope.

Finally, Chisaki spoke, his voice unusually calm considering the trouble you were in. “Follow me.”

Not one to disobey him, you did as he requested as he made his way over to his desk and sat down in his chair. Then, with an open hand, he gestured at his desk.

“Sit.”

Confusion.

“W-What??” you stuttered.

“I said sit.” He replied.

You did as Chisaki commanded, fitting yourself between his legs and his desk before hopping up slightly onto the surface you’d just cleaned. You were right in front of him now, your hands in your lap and your ankles crossed as you realized just how perfect this arrangement was for him to see directly up your skirt. You worried your lip between your teeth as you watched him assess you. His elbow was resting on the armrest of his chair, his fingers supporting his face along the jawline as he stared at you with his head cocked at an angle. If it were any other situation, you’d say he looked almost bored... but the glint in his eyes spoke of something else entirely.

“Continue.” He stated.

“What? What do you mean?” you asked.

His eyes stared at you knowingly. “You didn’t get to cum, did you?” You shook your head, stunned at his words. “Continue.” He repeated.

“Right here?”

“Where else? It was good enough for you earlier.” His tone dropped slightly as his eyes narrowed. “Continue.”

Your heart pounded in your ears as you uncrossed your ankles, and with shaky hands began to trace your fingers up your thighs just as you had done before. Except this time, the experience was entirely different. Instead of closing your eyes like before, you kept them open to stare at your observer, watching for his reaction. So many times you’d fantasized about this... about his eyes being on you and only you... and you weren’t going to miss a moment of it.

With your eyes locked on each other, you inched your way up to the space between your thighs, your legs parting to grant you access. Chisaki didn’t look down. Not right away, at least. Instead, he continued to watch your face, his body still and silent. With the heat of his gaze on you, you finally reached your center where your warmth greeted you. It was still slick from earlier, your fingers sliding easily along your labia as you began to tease yourself for the second time that evening. You let out slow, shaky breaths as your fingers rubbed slow, lazy circles over your glossy lips.

Chisaki still didn’t break his gaze from your eyes, and a part of you wanted him to. You wanted him to acknowledge what you were offering him and know that he liked it. A small, devious smirk found itself on your lips as you pulled your fingers away from your pussy to show him the evidence of your arousal stretched across your fingers. It caught his attention just briefly, eyes flicking to your display, before he watched you lick the glistening strands from your fingertips, the soft sounds of your sucking filling the empty, quiet room.

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, and the smirk on your face widened. Soon your fingers were back between your legs, massaging your clit again as your skin began to feel flush with heat. Round and round the pads of your fingers went, with painstaking slowness that you drew out just for him. You wanted to show him how good his presence made you feel. You wanted him to see how badly you wanted him. Your lips became more swollen, your clit more sensitive. Already you could start to feel the tension build. It was almost too easy, your body ready to surrender at the drop of a hat. But you weren’t going to let it happen, not yet at least. You wanted to draw this out, to savor it in case it never happened again.

With half-lidded eyes you stared at him as you parted you folds for him, fully exposing yourself. For the first time, his eyes drifted from your face to stare directly at your desire for him – your tight hole open and waiting, every inch of your swollen cunt drenched in glistening arousal. Chisaki was captivated and you felt your blood surge. You needed more. With your fingers still spreading yourself open, you dipped your middle digit into your tight heat. Pleasure bloomed within you and a soft groan vibrated from the back of your throat. With each draw of your fingers, your breaths quickened, your back arching as the tension began to build.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, to watch Chisaki as you brought yourself closer to orgasm, but it became increasingly difficult. You were single-focused now, chasing your much-needed release with each plunge of your finger into your soft depths. Your body accommodated it welcomingly, and so you added a second, once again relishing in the renewed stretch that caressed your inner walls. The faster you pumped your fingers, the better it felt until your nerves were singing that familiar hum. You flowed seamlessly into the final phase, your wet fingers leaving your entrance in favor of rubbing hard, fast circles over your clit. The finish line was in sight now as your body sprinted with tense, aching muscles and breathy moans.

You came with a gasp, back arching and thighs twitching as you rode out your orgasm. As you neared the end of it, you dipped your fingers in one last time as your walls gave one last final spasm of pleasure. Gradually the wave of your euphoria calmed, returning to the gentle, lapping waters of desire that still moved within you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

You opened your eyes to see Chisaki still staring at you silently, his eyes once again locked onto yours. The flush across his cheeks was very much apparent now, yet his posture remained unmoved. Still, out of curiosity, you dared a quick glance down to his lap to see his hand strategically placed over the bulge in his pants. Was he trying to hide it? Because he was failing. Or was he stroking himself through his clothes when you weren’t looking?

“Again.” He ordered.

Your eyes bulged. “Again?”

He didn’t bother to answer, instead waiting silently. You were a bird trapped in the golden cage of his eyes as your mind struggled to recover enough from the hazy aftereffects of your orgasm to think straight. He wanted you to do it again?

At first you were hesitant. You knew your body was still sensitive from what had just transpired. But then again… your eyes stared at Chisaki’s crotch again as he waited for you. No doubt he saw you staring, yet he did nothing, said nothing. It almost felt like an invitation… or a dare. Do it again and see what happens.

Fuck. You’d already gotten under his skin... might as well see how deep you could go.

Between your orgasm only moments before and the juices still coating your pussy, the sensations of your touch at first felt almost... numb. Except for your clit. That part was still sensitive, making your muscles twitch and your breath hitch in your throat as you moved your fingers over it experimentally. You kept your touch gentle at first, careful to give your body time to respond as you reawakened the lust that still lurked in your core. With dark eyes you began to stroke yourself for him again, pulling soft pleasurable moans from your gently parted lips. It was definitely more intense this time, and you could already tell that this next orgasm would surpass the one before it. Still, you drew it out as you watched Chisaki. Or, more specifically, watched his free hand.

It didn’t take long... you watched his fingers grip around his hard-on through his pants, his hand slowly moving up and down his restricted length. You bit your lip at the sight and immediately felt a generous wave of hot arousal bloom between your legs, your nipples hardening achingly. It wasn’t enough to capsize you into ecstasy, but it certainly pulled a needy whimper from your lips.

You dipped your fingers into yourself, feeling your walls flutter as you imagined what it would feel like to have Chisaki inside of you. With each curl of your fingers the heat grew, like the sun reaching its zenith. You wanted it. You wanted to cum so badly. But you wanted to see him even more. So, you neglected your puffy clit in favor of unbuttoning your blouse just enough to grant you access to your sensitive breasts. You pushed aside the cup of your bra to free the plump flesh, the bud at its center tightly puckered. With deft fingers you massaged the soft skin before rolling the nipple slowly between your fingers, pulling more soft gasps and gentle hums from your lips. The more you groaned and teased yourself, the more Chisaki stroked himself as he watched you, his eyes glowing with hunger.

It wasn’t until you began to lose yourself, your eyes beginning to drift closed as you moaned and whined to the ebb and flow of your pleasure, that your patience was finally rewarded.

You could hear it over the sounds of your lewdity – the ‘click click click’ of a zipper being pulled down. You opened your eyes, not even attempting to hide your eagerness, as Chisaki freed his cock from his pants.

It was beautiful just like the rest of him; long with a slight curve, its tip red and shining with precum. Veins stood out in relief, trailing his length like vines, thick and beautiful. You swallowed at the sight of it, desperately wanting to know what it would feel like to have that in you.

You hadn’t realized your own movements had frozen until Chisaki’s smooth voice cut through your thoughts.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He said, as cool and professional as ever as if he didn’t currently sit before you with his dick in his hand.

He was gloating, you knew it... your stunned silence at the sight of his cock stroked his ego just as much as you touching yourself for him did. And you knew that, above all else, Chisaki loved to have his ego stroked.

“Y-yes Mr. Chisaki...” you whispered, before your fingers began moving again.

You continued to stroke and play, penetrate and rub as you watched him take his long cock in his hand and begin long, steady strokes. Even now, he still kept his gloves on, and somehow that made his every move even hotter. He was no longer propping his face up with his other hand. Now, he was sitting up straight, eyes on your needy cunt as you put on your show for him. You could see it, the tension in his temple that came and went, hear the ragged, quick draws of his breaths through his mask. Your own arousal grew in response, egged on by him searching for his own sweet relief at the lewd sight of you. It blossomed like a watered seed as you drank in the man in front of you – his hand pumping, precum dripping.

It was the push your sensitive body needed. You came surprisingly fast, your orgasm crashing over your body with greater intensity than the first. Moans and gasps ripped from your throat as your body spasmed, and you made no effort to quell your cries, too consumed by your own pleasure. With eyes squeezed shut, your hips rocked as you grinded yourself against your hand, your entire body singing in unbridled bliss.

You were given no respite. As soon as the pleasure eased just enough for your hips to still, Chisaki spoke.

“Again.”

Your eyes, still closed, flew open to look at him with incredulity. You weren’t even recovered yet, your cunt still twitching with the aftershocks of pleasure. You knew that touching yourself without some sort of break was going to lead you down a jagged, torturous road of overstimulation. It made your legs start to close up instinctually in denial.

Your mouth moved silently before you pushed the words out. “B-But... I can’t....”

Chisaki’s eyes narrowed, his brows lowering... and along the edge of his mask, you could see his cheeks lift slightly. He was smirking at you. Cruelly.

“You can, and you will.” He said. A wave of his fingers told you to reopen your legs for him, and you did, slowly, as if you were a puppet on strings. “Again.” He repeated.

Chisaki took a moment to remove the glove from his stroking hand before giving his cock a couple more languid strokes. You stared at the exposed skin in awe. It was everything you imagined it’d be... pale, smooth, nails clean and perfectly trimmed. Between his hard cock and his ungloved hand, you stared in shameless longing as an excited chill coursed down your spine. Maybe… maybe if you were good…

You swallowed the dryness in your throat and returned your fingers to your core, flinching as you brushed against your sore, overstimulated clit. Chisaki returned to pleasuring himself as you performed for him, his hand pumping steadily. Watching him masturbate to you was delicious. He didn’t rush, instead opting to taking his time, his hand moving smoothly from base to tip, occasionally pausing to run his precum over the head, the shine glinting in the light. You subconsciously licked your lips, wondering what it would taste like. Would you lick it from his tip? Or his finger? Maybe both?

You matched your pace with his, letting his own strokes guide your hand. The synchrony made your pussy ache more than ever, even as your body screamed for freedom – a break from the constant wave of stimulation that you were subjecting yourself to. It made you feel closer to him, more connected - as if he were a part of your pleasure without actually touching you.

But dear God, you desperately you wanted him to touch you.

He continued his strokes, slow and easy. Whether it was for him or for you, you weren’t sure... you weren’t even sure if he was aware that you were pacing yourself with him. His speed gradually quickened, the muscles of his forearms tensed and twitching as he pumped his hard cock with growing fervor. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen, his eyes starting to roll back in his head as he began to lose himself to the pleasure, legs twitching slightly as he came close... Your heart pounded with excited anticipation as you dipped your fingers into your core, feeling your walls flutter with need. It was happening... he was going to cum...

But he never did. Instead, his pace began to slow as his eyes refocused on you. That was when you realized….

Chisaki wasn’t trying to cum yet… he was edging himself.

Maybe he was waiting for you. Or maybe he had his own agenda. But either way, it was clear to you that he was delaying his orgasm.

The hypocrite.

Still, you wanted to please him. You wanted to give him want he wanted, because then maybe he could give you what you really wanted. But no matter how hard you tried, no matter how fucking hot the entire situation was, your own orgasm evaded you.

It was more than just the repeated orgasms and overstimulation. The real issue was that your fingers no longer satisfied. Not after seeing what he had to offer, and certainly not after seeing how horny you made him. You wanted him to touch you, to put his hands on you, to feel his cock in you... A frustrated whine escaped your lips as you felt your resolve break.

“Please, Mr. Chisaki...” you begged. Chisaki’s eyes left your open pussy to lock with yours. Their golden depths burned holes into you, and you licked your lips under the heat of his stare. “Please touch me...”

Chisaki froze mid-stroke. “Touch you?” He said it as if the idea repulsed him, yet his eyes betrayed him as he looked back down between your open legs.

“Please,” You begged. “Don’t you want to?”

His brow was deeply furrowed, and you knew he was having his internal debate, just as he’d had before. After all, what you were asking was no small order. You knew how he felt about touch. No doubt he would have already been balls deep in you had it not been an issue for him.

But that was why you begged. And pleaded. And groveled. Anything to make him set aside his golden rule, even if just for one night.

“Please...” you whined one last time. “I’ll do anything. I need you, Kai...”

Something about you using his given name did something. His eyes widened slightly, his flush reaching down to his exposed neck. Then his eyes narrowed, as he stood from his seat. You watched with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he carefully removed his jacket and loosened his white tie. He towered over you, his stare pinning you somewhere between his contempt and his hunger as he undid the cuffs of his black shirt and rolled up his sleeves to the elbows. It made your pussy throb and your heart pound as you stared back at him, completely vulnerable. He stepped forward slightly, filling the space between your legs with his presence. Even just the graze of his pants against the inside of your knee was enough to set off fireworks on your skin, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His cock was still out and hard, mere inches from your tight, needy cunt, and it took every ounce of willpower not to scoot down and close the gap between you.

You waited.

“Touch you...” he muttered through his mask, his voice low.

Chisaki’s eyes raked over you, taking in every inch of you. Your trembling, parted lips and large pupils; your exposed breast with its perky, hard nipple; your swollen and glossy cunt framed in ruined underwear that was carelessly shoved aside; the sweat from your thighs coating his desk.

“So fucking filthy.” He breathed. The profanity sounded strange on his lips, almost more like a prayer than an insult.

He stared at one of your thighs as he slowly placed a warm, gloved hand on it. You reacted immediately, gasping at his touch, and his eyes darted to yours.

“...And needy.” He added.

From your peripheral you could see his other hand grip his cock and begin to pump it. You tried to watch... you wanted to watch. But the heat of his hand on your thigh made nearly everything else fade away until it was all you cared about. Your breaths began to come in hot pants as your body trembled beneath him.

“I didn’t realize that you were so desperate for me.” He said calmly as he continued to stroke himself. His gloved hand squeezed your soft flesh until you were moaning from the mixture of pleasure and pain. “Pathetic.”

You were pathetic. But you didn’t care. You’d say anything, do anything, just to have him keep touching you. And if he wanted you to beg? To cry? To humiliate yourself to earn his cock? You’d do that too.

His hand slowly eased its grip as it began to move up, up, up until his thumb nestled in the crook of your thigh, just shy of your sensitive, swollen folds. Your hand immediately made way for his as you laid down completely onto his desk, your world spinning. A warmth fell over you like a blanket, every fiber of your being pulsing at a low hum; you were a glass vibrating at a frequency just shy of shattering.

Chisaki’s voice floated through your haze like a faraway song carried on the wind. “You were so eager at first. So willing to shame yourself – shame me – to get what you wanted.” He scoffed. “Now you can’t even do as I say.”

You could feel his thigh twitch against yours as he began to pump himself faster. His cock was so close to your pussy that it was torturous. It made you want to cry. You could feel the warmth of fresh juices begin to flow from you, coating your entrance in invitation, as you prayed to all the gods above and below for him to enter you without mercy.

But it never came. And his hand never ventured further. Slowly, your thoughts trickled back ever so slightly, and you realized he was waiting for you to speak. Slowly, around a heavy tongue, you made clumsy words. “I... I’m sorry...I’m trying... is hard...”

Chisaki tsked. “You’re afraid. Afraid of pushing past your limits. So now I’m going to help you.”

His gloved thumb crossed the threshold to your swollen bud, and your world exploded into color as a sharp zing of pleasure erupted from between your legs. You cried out, your body spasming, hips writhing to escape his touch. It was too much...

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

Then he did something you didn’t expect – his bare hand released his cock and slammed down onto the desk. The surface rippled beneath you, transforming until smooth arches of dark mahogany wrapped themselves over your arms, effectively pinning you down.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest, your breaths coming out in quick, panicked gasps.

“Kai!” you protested.

He bent over you and grabbed your jaw in his gloved hand, his plague doctor mask inches from your face. “You wanted me to touch you,” he whispered. “Now you’re going to get what you asked for.”

The look in his eyes wasn’t as controlled as before. Sure, the disgust and hunger were still there. But there were more emotions now, peaking through the cracks of his practiced façade. Anger, contempt, fear, desire, longing... and something else; something wild and unhinged.

Something within him was on the verge of breaking, of being set free, and you were the one responsible.

He straightened himself up and returned his gloved hand to your sopping core, his cock once again in his bare hand. His thumb found its home again, nestled firmly against your engorged clit.

He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t slow. Instead, his thumb ran swift, relentless circles, the digit igniting every frayed nerve. Each swipe had you crying out as wave after wave of sharp, jagged pleasure assaulted you, without so much as a second of recovery in between. And as Chisaki raced you towards that inevitable cliff, his own hand pumped himself hard and fast. His strokes began to become erratic, his composure slowly slipping as you began to unravel before him, your whines and cries luring him to follow you to the point of no return. You could feel his own legs began to spasm against your inner thighs, his hips beginning to jut forward with each drag of his palm along his hard shaft. The gap between your two bodies began to close, until you could feel the tip of him brush against your core. In that instant, you came undone beneath him with his name spilling from your drooling lips.

The temptation was too much. He entered you as you came, his cock burying itself within your clenching walls with a single thrust. Your legs wrapped around him instantly as your body exploded into a mess of tears, shrieks, and trembles. With one hand on your hip and one working your clit, he fucked you through your orgasm as you cried and panted, his own grunts joining your one-person symphony as you felt every fiber of your being shatter with white hot pleasure. It was all-consuming, disorienting. You weren’t even sure you were a person anymore. You could feel nothing else, see nothing else except the man inside of you, hovering over you, filling your existence.

It didn’t stop. Even after you were a blubbering mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your thighs and cunt sore, Chisaki kept going, his cock reaching new depths as it dragged against your spasming, sensitive walls. His breaths were heavy, each pant labored until he ripped his mask off his face. It was like a switch had been flipped, changing Chisaki from a man in control to nearly animalistic. Teeth bared, sweat beading across his forehead, golden eyes absolutely feral. His thrusts took you past your orgasm, unrelenting, and you cried and babbled for him to stop, it was too much, your body couldn’t take anymore. But even as your string of incoherent words begged for the end, your body spoke of a different kind of freedom, your legs tightening around Chisaki’s waist in an effort to pull him impossibly deeper into you.

Chisaki snarled, releasing his hand from your cunt as he continued to fuck you, and removed his remaining glove with his teeth. Suddenly, the white fabric was being shoved into your mouth, gagging your broken words behind its white cotton that smelled and tasted of you.

“Shut up.” He growled.

You could see the hives breaking out across his damp, flushed skin now at the contact, but it no longer seemed to matter to him. And it didn’t matter to you either. You were wrapped up delirium, your eyes glossing over and rolling into your head with each drive of Chisaki’s hips. Your hips couldn’t even keep up with his thrusts anymore; his movements were too rough, too fast. All you could do was lay there and receive him as he pounded you without restraint. That familiar knot was forming again, a dark beast built from the broken pieces of the last. It was a terrifying thing, a formidable presence that you felt building within yourself that would surely decimate you.

“This is what you really wanted, isn’t it?” Chisaki grunted through clenched teeth. “You wanted me to fuck you senseless, to ruin this tight pussy of yours like the greedy, selfish bitch you are.”

His words washed over you and you gave the faintest of nods, your mouth still gagged.

“So, you’re going to take what I give you. You’re going to cum when I say, as often as I say.” His cock hit deep as his thumb gave a final press against your clit. “Now.”

You screamed around the cotton in your mouth, back arching and arms straining against the wood trapping you as the tension finally erupted. It tore through your veins, making your fluids gush and your pussy clench like a vice around Chisaki’s pumping cock. Not a moment later, you heard him groan followed by the hot sensation of his cum coating your walls. It only enhanced the waves of pleasure still wrecking you and your pussy milked him greedily as he emptied himself in you.

The comedown felt like it would never arrive. Your nerves still sang too loudly, the aches echoed too deep. But finally, Chisaki’s hips stuttered to a stop and your own body lay limp beneath him. It felt like you were submerged under water, every sense dulled or muted, as you stared hazily at the ceiling. Chisaki was still in you, his dick twitching sensitively each time your body gave a weak aftershock. You had thought he would pull out, leave you there like the ruined mess you were to go clean himself up. Now doubt he’d return to his senses any moment and be repulsed by what transpired.

But he never did. Instead, he braced himself over you, his heavy, hot breaths coating your exposed skin as he settled through his own comedown while you warmed his cock. You felt the desk ripple beneath you and suddenly your arms were freed from their restraints, the wooden surface back to its original state. A moment later, he filled your view as he leaned over you, and you had a brief moment of panic, wondering if you were next. Was he going to overhaul you now? After all, he got what he wanted...

But he never did that either. Instead, he removed the glove from your mouth as his eyes traced over your face, marking every feature, every nuance. Your parted, chapped lips... your glossy, sweat-stained skin... the exhaustion in your eyes... His thumb came up to wipe away at the tears drying along your cheekbones before running the smooth pad over your lower lip.

Then he did something you didn’t anticipate, something that surprised you above all else. He bent down and captured your mouth with his, his wet tongue gliding into your stunned, open mouth. It was strangely slow, uncharacteristically tender, and entirely unexpected. The fog you’d been swimming in a moment before lifted slightly, and you began to kiss him back, your arm wrapping up around his shoulders before tangling your fingers into his damp, auburn locks at the base of his neck.

Whatever it was, it was short-lived. He brought a hand up to grasp the hand you had around his neck, his fingers twining with yours as he placed your hand back down on the desk, pinning you within his hold. He pulled away from the kiss and stared down at you with a dark smirk tugging the corners of his wet lips. And his eyes... his eyes burned gold like the sun. Not a beautiful, gentle gold that kissed open delicate flowers and melted winter snow. No, this was a force of unrelenting destruction, the kind that burned deserts, scorched forests... and melted wax wings.

You were Icarus, fueled by foolishness and arrogance. You’d flown too close, fueled by a false sense of confidence that you could handle whatever it was that lurked within him, that your lust was enough to match his. But you were quickly learning you couldn’t. His fire burned too hot, his hunger too deep. He was going to devour you until there was nothing left. And really, what did you expect from a man who denied himself every human urge in his quest for perfection?

The sun could never be controlled.

And Pandora’s box can never be closed.

Slowly, he lowered his face next to yours until you could feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Again.”

#overhaul x reader #Kai Chisaki x reader #overhaul smut #mha smut #bnha smut #tw:bondage #tw:masturbation #tw:degradation #tw:overstimulation #tw:aggression #bnharem collab

371 notes · View notes

orionshounds · 3 years

Text

I’ve been knee deep in dsmp lore streams and I just want to ramble about it

Dream smp lore is so good, it’s so good!!! Not only is the story itself just fascinating, but how it’s presented so uniquely through the medium of minecraft of all things is just so cool. One of my favorite parts of the lore is seeing how everyone on the smp has their own “style” they present it in, and watching them find the way they find the most enjoyment in is so cool. Literally no two streamer’s lore stream quite like each others and it’s just incredible! It just speaks to the flexibility of roleplay as an artistic medium and really shows everyone’s individual personalities.

Wilbur was dramatic as hell and wrote eloquent speeches. He started a drug operation under the guise as a country, and it lead to a revolution in which he was able to explore the spiral of a man who loses control of everything he had built. And after his arc and he wanted a break from the server? He created ghostbur, an amnesic comic relief with just enough touch of tragedy that he is still able to make heartbreaking monologues when he wants to.

Tommy is able to run around with his friends and cause as much chaos to his heart’s extent, but there is so much more than meets the eye. He is incredibly social and isn’t afraid to start conflict with a lot of people, bringing them into the roleplay. He doesn’t back down from storytelling either. His character goes through terrible situations and he fully explores the trauma that comes from those experiences. His character goes against the “stereotypical” trauma I see alot in media; instead of being shy or scared he’s reactionary, he’s angry, he’s violent, he’s depressed. I’m actually really impressed with the heavy subject matter this 17 year old teen has managed to portray (I’ve connected with it quite personally at certain points), while still being able to keep the light hearted fun that’s so intrinsic to his personality.

Tubbo isn’t really interested in serious lore as much. Even in dire moments he tells jokes and just has fun. So, in his recent lore, he just streams as normal while putting mysterious writing on screen that he doesn’t acknowledge or have to explain, which I think is just a genius work around for him to participate in lore. He still has his dedicated lore streams sometimes, and when he is in the acting zone he has some of the most powerful moments out of everyone on the server.

Ranboo, while having stake in the greater smp lore, is much more character focused. He presents his lore through long monologues and fucking heart-wrenching voice acting. He loves working in themes of horror and causing a specific feeling in the viewer. So he chooses specific music as a themes for events/characters and creates visual queues in his overlays to draw out that desired reaction. He also values improve a LOT, if something unexpected comes up he just runs with it and he has made huge changes to his lore as early as 30 min before a stream.

Technoblade, while arguably one of the most powerful people on the server, prefers a more light-hearted yet dramatic approach to lore. When Dream was at his house looking for Tommy, Techno had no problem joking around and making fun of him for being homeless. He tore down an entire nation on the server and had so much fun doing it! He’s more of an antagonist than a true villain in my opinion. And lets not forget how dedicated he is to the game, he’s cracked at the craft. He spends hours grinding and creating farms on the smp, for amazing pay offs (his several vault reveals, the withers, etc), most of which weren’t even on stream!

Karl Jacobs is extremely social, so he created Tales from the smp as a way to involve TONS of people in lore while exploring the past and future of the server (it was also a way for viewers who weren’t that well versed in dsmp lore to join and not have to worry about it!). And through this premise, he took the opportunity to develop his own character on the smp; making an incredibly tragic story of a time traveler trying to save his home while slowly loosing his memories. Not to mention the beautifully shot cutscenes of the Inbetween and the Other Side. He includes so many people behind the scenes as well, collabing with other members on lore, hiring building teams and people to make intros and credit scenes, and promoting fanart and fansongs from the community!

Quackity explores his lore through heavily scripted events and amazingly shot cut scenes. While the way he expresses his lore comes at the cost of improv, the payoff of the visuals and story is well worth it! The shots he makes of the smp is downright gorgeous, no to mention he’s the first person to include irl footage in his lore (not counting facecams)! He’s not afraid of thoroughly examining his own character, being one of the only people I can think of that shows us “past events” leading up to something that has already happened.

Badboyhalo, Antfrost, Ponk, Skeppy, Captain Puffy, Punz, Awesamdude, Hannahxxrose all work together on shared lore and the payoff is amazing! By introducing the Egg, a constant antagonistic force that constantly pulls on character’s relationships with each other, everyone is able to stream together to battle for or against the egg! There’s also plenty of room for people to do individual lore that's more intimate to their respective character. They spend hours changing vines, putting up posters, slowly shaping the smp in a way that makes it exciting to watch streams to see just what has changed everyday. Because there’s so many people necessary to tell the egg’s story, it does comes at the cost of time (the egg has been around FOREVER). However, they all work together super hard and I just admire their commitment to the story they’re trying to tell!

And Sam! He has several different “Modes” his character is in (and an entirely separate character, Sam Nook) that he gets to explore lore with. He’s a terrifying warden, he’s a money motivated businessman, he’s a conflicted lover, he’s a traumatized victim of the egg, and just so much more. Through having so many different “roles” in the rp he gets to explore relationships and plotlines with a whole array of people. Not to mention he’s absolutely cracked at redstone and has some of the most impressive builds on the server.

And Puffy! So much of her lore is calling into question the morality of the server and really makes you step back and think critically about the characters. Her character also has, in my opinion, one of the most interesting relationships with Dream, the main antagonist of the entire server, which is just fascinating to watch unfold. Not to mention she’s one of the first people to start exploring the backstory of her character!

George doesn’t exactly do lore. In fact he’s slept through so much of it it’s become a meme. And you know what? That mad man took that and ran with it. He explains his absence in the story by having his character literally being asleep through it, creating mystery where there used to just be an absence. He’s able to goof off with his friends and have borderline nonsensical streams, then at the end sucker punch the audience emotionally by “waking up” and have the viewers question just what was real and what wasn’t?

The smp has the freedom for people who want more independent lore to be able to explore their character’s that way as well!

Hbomb, Connereatspants, and Purpled don’t have a lot of lore on the smp, generally only coming on to have fun with everyone, but when they do have their moments it unfolds in very interesting ways!

Sapnap, Eret, and Schlatt maybe aren’t as active as some other people, but when they are on they actively participate in lore and have lasting impacts on the story (Ex: Eret’s betrayal, Sapnap’s visit to dream in the prison, Schlatt becoming president).

Philza mostly does his own thing, improving the server or making some bomb ass builds. He has incredibly devastating roles in lore (killing wilbur, blowing up L’manberg for the final time, starting the syndicate with Techno), but he also has quieter moments that speak to the depth his character has, such as fishing with fundy or reminiscing about his dead son and how it went so wrong. Like Techno, he doesn’t like to take lore completely seriously, often laughing no matter what’s happening or teasing chat after something big goes down, but his character is solid with a lot of potential for future lore.

Foolish has only started on his character and its already super interesting. The hints at his dark past as a “god of death” and his current conflict with the egg are intriguing as fuck. Not to mention the MASSIVE builds he does for everyone, helping to progress their lore as well.

Fundy has a lot of freedom with his character to participate however much he wants in lore. While generally he’s a trickster who loves to prank people he has enough tragedy build into his backstory he’s able to break the viewer’s heart with a flip of a switch. Not to mention his recent, almost surreal, stream that explored his character’s disturbing dreams that may or may not predict the future.

Niki is very character driven, exploring her character's grief of losing her best friend and her anger of being ignored in the very country she helped create. She has incredibly emotional moments, and even though she’s on her own building an underground city she still participates in other lore via teaming with jack manifold or the syndicate.

Jack Manifold’s lore is VERY character focused, and while he’s described his story as a “B plot that occasionally intersects with the main plot”, the story he tells is still fascinating. Being pushed aside not taken seriously his whole life, his character develops into a fun cartoony-esque villain who begs to be taken seriously, that has the depth of a truly conflicted person who is torn between wanting revenge on everyone who’s done him wrong and just wanting a friend.

Last but not least, the man himself, Dream. The most fascinating thing about his lore is that absolutely none of it is from his pov. All we know about his character is only from what we see from everyone else’s povs, and in his case it leads to a very intimidating villain! Not to mention, mans owns the damn server and yet has made himself the main antagonist! He is the only character I consider a “true villain” on the smp. His voice acting and writing is downright sinister. I could write a fucking essay on how his character’s obsession with power has led him to the point he thinks himself an unstoppable god

Everyone on this server is stunning and I love all of them!!!!!

168 notes · View notes

bellesque · 4 years

Text

Stop & Smell the Flowers (Loki x Reader)

A Loki Oneshot for the Spring Time with Loki Collab Collection on AO3. Also on my AO3.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 8.9K BIG yikes

Tags/Warnings: Sex Pollen (therefore Mildly Dub-Con), Smut, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Denial, Sex in Space, and some hints of a Praise Kink

Summary: Plant samples from Alfheim and a brooding god as your only companions in a small Quinjet sounds like a recipe for disaster, but some good things can happen in ten hours.

A/N: All I can say is... whoops, my hand slipped?

THE RIDE BACK to Earth is longer than you anticipated.

The small Quinjet is a sturdy and silent thing, the engine’s muffled hum a constant as you hurtle through space. It’s a drawn out, unceasing sound; it brings your boredom to the forefront of your consciousness and warps it into a false sense of steady calm. You might even be able to close your eyes for a second, seeing as there’s nothing but blackness before you—

“Wake up,” a voice snaps from behind your pilot chair, punctuated by a sharp snap of fingers. “You will not crash this ship.”

You straighten in your seat, unfazed by the bite in your companion’s tone. You blink a couple times, squeezing your eyes shut as you stifle a yawn.

“There’s literally nothing to crash into, Loki.”

Heavy boots thud against the metal floor of the ship until they stop by the copilot chair a few paces away from you. “You never were the vigilant type to begin with.”

This time, you sigh. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I’m turning on autopilot. If you can’t trust me, trust Stark. His tech is unparalleled. We will be fine.” You punch a button on the control panel, and the low hum of the Quinjet rises slightly in pitch. Swiveling around in your chair, you turn to face the god with raised hands. “See? No hands. All good. Course set.”

Loki stares at you, his features set in an unamused scowl, before turning on his heel to the farther side of the ship.

It takes a little more willpower than usual not to allow yourself to snap back at him, but you manage. After all, you’re both pretty tired, and he’s most likely antsy because of how long you’ve been cruising through the void of space. You’re sleepy, he’s irritable.

Still, your estimated time of arrival isn’t for another eight hours, and seeing as you’re going to be stuck with each other you might as well try to maintain some semblance of cordiality.

“So,” you begin, pushing up and out from your seat, “Alfheim was pretty.”

Loki stands by the glass window that shows you nothing but the expanse of space. His reflection is so clear that the details—like the strong slope of his nose, his aristocratic cheekbones—are unmarred.

“Yes,” he answers curtly. “Home to the Light Elves. As Stark briefed earlier, if you had been paying any attention.”

You swallow the retort, letting it fizzle out on the tip of your tongue. Stark did brief you on your mission, alright. You just wish knowing how to handle a brooding, irritated god was one of the things on Tony’s agenda.

Your mission was simple enough—collect some plants and flowers and shrubs and cuttings, he said. All the planty things. It’ll be quick, he said. Two rides through the Bifrost from Earth to Heimdall’s Observatory in Asgard, and then to Alfheim, followed by a short Quinjet ride to the nearby planet-slash-moon-thing, he said. Piece of cake, won’t take too long to get there.

He failed to mention how long it would take you to come home since you couldn’t use the Bifrost for reasons that were “none of your damn business.”

“You know, you’re not usually this much of a pain in the ass,” you find yourself saying as you stand side by side.

“And you’re not usually this mouthy,” he replies. He cocks his head at you. “Are you certain the coordinates have been set for Midgard?”

“Yes, sire,” you say, unable to keep the mocking tone from your voice at bay. “I told you. Trust me. If not me, then Stark.”

You lapse into silence, watching distant planets and stars twinkle against the dark backdrop of the void, the unending vastness pulling you into thought.

You’ve been working with the Avengers for just about a year. In this time, you’ve gotten to know everyone in the tower.

Including Loki.

He’s… quite a character, to say the least. Silent. Calculating. Not plotting his next attempt at world domination, but still, many are wary of his presence. You’ve spent enough time with him to know he’s a different Loki from the one in New York, though. You’d even go as far as to say that he’s… almost kind of good. Wreaking chaos, sure, by way of annoying the hell out of Steve and Tony especially, but… good.

And you’ll even admit to yourself, just a little, that he’s nice to be around. Not right now; no, he’s unnecessarily bitchy at the moment. But when it’s just you and him in the tower while the rest are either off-world or taking a day off outside the tower, it’s almost refreshing. His presence is companionable. When you watch a movie, his comments are genuinely witty and they make you laugh. He’s more aloof—more himself, you feel, and he allows himself to actually fucking smile.

And hell, when he does, looking at you with those green eyes and that heart-wrenching, happy smile—

You huff, squashing the blooming feeling in your chest. Pivoting on your heel, you make towards the other side of the ship: the small corner by the hatch that holds your collection of plants from today’s excursion. Maybe the weird, exotic flowers will keep you from acknowledging your tiny (but growing) crush.

“Do you have plants like this on Asgard?” you ask, hoping to inject some light into the heavy and tired air that hangs between you.

It takes Loki a second to move from his stance by the opposite window, but he ends up by your side eventually. He picks up a glass jar that houses a plant with blue, stunted leaves. “No.” He brings it up to eye level, examining it and rotating it in his hand. “The plants we’ve acquired are native to the Alfheim regions, it seems.”

“What does Stark want with them?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

He sets down the jar with a dulled thunk and picks up another. The flower inside this one is pretty: curling petals with an orangey, reddish, and golden iridescence to it. It glitters in the low light of the Quinjet’s interior, and you can’t help but voice your admiration for it.

“Do you know what that one’s called?”

“No.”

“So why’d we get it?”

Loki’s eyebrows scrunch together, shifting his weight to the other foot. “Are you a child, mortal? Why must you ask such—”

You never get to hear the rest of Loki’s question; the Quinjet makes a hard, stuttering sound, almost as if it’s skidding over gravel, and the entire ship lurches forward and then sideways. The scraping sound of metal doesn’t cease as the ship continues to vibrate from the turbulence. You lose your balance, clutching at air to steady yourself, only one particularly hard jerk to the side causes you to stumble into Loki with a soft oof.

The pair of you are jostled to the floor, and the next thing you register is the distinct sound of glass shattering.

After a few seconds, the vibrations stop. Thankfully, because you were really starting to worry that dying in space was going to become an actual thing. The lights flicker before steadying and it resumes its normal hum as though it didn’t just go through the most unholy turbulence you’ve experienced. Granted, this is only your third time in space, but the unexpected collision leaves you spooked out nonetheless.

“What was that?”

It’s this moment that your mind chooses to notice that Loki’s chest has seemingly cushioned your fall, the top half of your body splayed on top of him.

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you hastily clamber off him. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything, only rises to his feet and dusts off the front of his clothes. “You and I are in big trouble,” he says.

You hurry to the cockpit, which isn’t much of a cockpit considering how small the ship is compared to what Stark usually provides. A space rock just about the size of the ship lazily rolls away. “Looks like an asteroid?” you say, uncertain. “Are we caught in a belt?”

��No, it was a rogue one. The trouble I pertain to is not that, mortal. I’m afraid we’re one plant short now.”

“What?” Your head whips to the back so fast that your neck cricks, and you rush to the spot Loki points at.

Broken glass, and a flower that’s lost some of its iridescence. Some particles glitter on the metal floor, and you curse.

“There’s a spare jar in one of the overhead cabinets. Maybe we can still salvage this one.” You sigh. “What if this had some super special healing power and we just ruined it?”

“I told you not to crash this ship, and yet—”

“Shut it, Reindeer Games.” At this, you can see in your periphery how Loki’s nostrils flare just the slightest at the nickname. He hates it. Hates it because Stark uses it.

You manage to pick up the bigger pieces of broken glass without inadvertently cutting yourself and throw it into the waste bin. Loki hands you—well, more like shoves into you—another glass jar, into which you carefully place the flower. You slot it with the other plant samples and straighten up.

“There are still some smaller shards of glass around here,” you say, gesturing vaguely at the floor, “so we just need to be careful when we walk here.”

The floor shimmers in some angles: some attributed to the minute glass shards, some from the flower. Loki dips his chin in acknowledgment before resuming his perch by the window, staring out at the abyss of space as he was doing before you and he decided to look at the Alfheim plants.

A decision you’re regretting more and more with each passing minute.

You’re back in the pilot chair, scanning for any possibility of crashing into another space rock. If what you were feeling earlier was sleepiness, how you’re feeling right now is that tenfold with an extra weight of ten pounds on your head. Your eyelids are heavy and your body is beginning to feel warm. You sniffle, your nose a little congested, and a sneeze permeates the silence.

You swivel around to face Loki. The simple action of it causes your head to spin; you feel almost lightheaded, the same feeling you get when you’re sick. You steady yourself by planting your feet on the floor. “Hey. Are you feeling a little woozy?”

Loki’s eyes snap to you, concern written on his features. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“Not really. Feels like… like an allergy. From the flower.” You sneeze again. “Head’s heavy. Wanna sleep.”

“There’s a pull-out cot you can rest in.” In a flash, Loki’s helping you up, one arm around your waist. You can’t stop your eyelids from closing this time, feeling your grip on consciousness slip from you as your head lolls onto Loki’s shoulder. It’s a weird feeling. Heavy and light at the same time. You want to voice how it feels, but all that comes out is another sneeze.

“Perhaps the Alfheim flowers are a little too intense for your mortal body.”

Maybe it’s the allergies, but you swear you hear the hint of a smile in his voice. Loki drapes a blanket over you—wait, is he tucking you in?—and cards his fingers through your hair. You’re not sure if it’s real or not, but it feels nice.

“Sleep,” he says, voice distant and muddled. “I will take care of the ship.”

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep to the Quinjet’s comforting hum.

It’s hot.

Way too hot.

You blearily open your eyes, the feverish warmth that’s spread over your body the first thing you notice. The funny thing is you’re hot but you aren’t sweating. At all.

Just warm.

Excessively so.

“It’s hot,” you blurt out dumbly, sitting up on the strangely comfortable cot. The blanket falls away from you as you squint at Loki’s silhouette in the pilot chair.

The lights are a little dimmer, you think. Not as harsh and cold, blinding white too, but almost warm. You didn’t even know the ship had that feature.

Loki doesn’t answer you. You realize this a little late after marveling over the Quinjet’s new lighting. “Are you hot?” Your voice sounds foreign, different to you—a different timbre, a little more hoarse.

“Not particularly.”

Your stomach does a little flip because shit, his voice sounds different too.

You swallow, rising to your feet. “How long was I asleep?”

“I did not keep track. Perhaps an hour. Maybe two.”

He swivels in the pilot chair, and your stomach does a funny kind of flip. He’s the perfect picture of a confident, cocky prince with a sort of casual regality; he’s leaning back just a little lower with his legs spread open, one arm hanging over the armrest while the other is bent at the elbow, a closed fist by his face. Like he sits on his own throne, proud and powerful and incredibly sexy.

And you’ll be damned if you don’t admit it’s an attractive sight.

“Did you sleep well?” he asks, his head falling to one side. The intensity of his gaze burns into you, and something inside you coils unmistakably. What the hell…?

“I…” your voice catches, and you clear your throat. “I did. Maybe—do—uh, do you want to take a nap this time? ’Cause I can keep watch.” You hurry to your feet, and your legs feel like jelly as you stand. It’s as if they aren’t a part of your body as they take you to the heart of the ship, the halfway point between the cot and the cockpit.

Loki stands, still staring at you, and even in the dimness of the ship you can see that the intensity with which he looks at you hasn’t waned. He reaches you, standing a good foot away, and stops.

You try to calm the wild beating of your heart, rooted to the spot from his attentions, and you fidget. Your eyes are flighty in contrast, flitting from his face to his chest to the void outside the Quinjet and back again.

He lifts a single finger up to your face, tipping your chin upwards so your eyes meet. Heat begins to pool somewhere specific now, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Obviously nothing, your brain screams in protest. It’s like your mind is swimming, your afterthoughts delayed and your actual thoughts heady, private wishes just bubbling at the surface.

“Your face is red,” Loki comments, his voice low and soft. Like the blanket he tucked you into. No, a part of you thinks, stop this right now—

He brushes his knuckles against your cheek, regarding you with great interest. “You’re burning up as well. Shall I take you to bed?”

Surely he doesn’t mean for his words to come out as much of an innuendo as they do, but that’s immediately where your mind goes: into the gutter.

“A-aren’t you tired?” you say instead, allowing Loki to steer you by the shoulders back to the pull-out. “I can definitely—”

“No, you need to rest,” he insists. As your butt hits the mattress, Loki’s expression shifts into a thoughtful one. “Although your suit seems to be an unfitting set of clothes, considering you’re quite hot. One moment.”

Loki disappears, walking to a hidden part of the ship and you take this time to fan yourself. It’s still unbelievably hot, and the way your folds are slippery without any stimulation (except, you think with a small smirk, Loki’s little pilot chair moment was visual stimulation enough) causes alarm bells to ring faintly in the distance of your mind.

You experimentally flex your lower muscles and—oh. Oh.

“Here,” Loki says as he saunters back into view. He tosses you a dark green shirt. “Wear that.”

You stare at the bundle of fabric in your lap and realize it’s his.

And just like that, a fire is lit within you.

You bring up the shirt to your face, inhaling his scent when he turns his back, and fucking hell does he smell good. Your mouth practically waters at it, your eyes trained on Loki’s back as he settles back into the pilot’s chair.

Unconsciously you bite your lip as you wonder what his skin might look like underneath his armor.

“Don’t turn around,” you say, fighting the urge to jump him right then and there that surges to the fore. You’re tempted. You really are. And you also want him not to listen to you and turn around, watch you undress and change into his shirt.

Again, what in the hell…?

You shimmy out of your clothes and pull Loki’s shirt over you. It’s Asgardian in design, likely tailored specifically for him. You wearing it just feels so intimate. The smell that’s so distinctly him envelops you and quite frankly, it’s intoxicating.

You stand, and the shirt falls just to your mid-thighs. He didn’t bother getting you any shorts; you’re not sure if you’re grateful or angry, or maybe a heady mix of both.

Bundling up your used clothes in your arms, you clear your throat. “Thank you.”

Loki swivels around, stuttering to a stop when he sees you. His eyes rake over you, from your messy bedhead down to your exposed legs. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat quite visibly, and your pride rears its head in victory.

“No shorts, though?” you ask innocently, one eyebrow shooting up.

“Unnecessary,” he answers with a devious grin that makes your insides melt and ignite all at once.

He turns his attention back to the controls, and you lay your clothes by the side of the pull-out.

Wearing Loki’s shirt does little to cool your temperature—in fact, it’s still blistering despite the Quinjet’s air conditioning.

“Are you sure it isn’t hot?” you ask again. You know you’re asking unnecessary questions, but you want to get him talking, speaking to you in that gorgeous velvet full voice of his.

You hear him chuckle, a gush of heat rushing towards your center. “I’m afraid that’s all you, little one.”

Sighing, you flop onto the bed, pulling a pillow over your legs. Maybe if you take another nap, the heat will subside from your body.

Your arousal, on the other hand…

A thought enters your mind, fleetingly, because you immediately push it away and chastise yourself through the murky fog of your brain. Pleasuring yourself? In Loki’s presence? The absurdity of the idea. You should be feeling shame… only you don’t. Not really, at least.

You shift onto your side, squeezing your eyes tight. Sleep does not come to you. You try lying on your back, on your stomach, and then again—

“Are you alright back there?”

The normal tone Loki uses astounds you, seeing as you’re somehow a feverish, horny mess and he isn’t. It puzzles you, and some deep part of you wants to figure out why. Only your brain seems to refuse to cooperate unless you’re thinking of doing certain things.

Things you certainly don’t mind doing with Loki.

“I-it’s hot,” you explain, embarrassed defeat lacing your words. How many times have you said that to him? You probably sound like a broken record.

At this, Loki lets out a full peal of laughter, husky and with a sensual edge to it. You wish you could make him laugh, hear it one more time. Or twice. Or on loop. It doesn’t really matter.

He swivels again to face you, his sitting posture similar to the one earlier, and it does things to you. Causes an uproar that’s novel to you, a need rising within you that must be sated.

Loki makes a smooth come hither motion with his fingers, curling from his pinky to his index. A beckoning you can’t refuse. “Perhaps I can help. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m quite adept at magic. It may help the current predicament you face.”

You slide off the cot and walk barefooted to the copilot chair. He looks a little different, you realize as you amble towards him. Maybe it’s the allergies, but just as he sounds different, there’s something different about him now that you’re really looking. He’s always been a pretty face and you’ve always found him extraordinarily handsome, but right now is different. You just can’t put a finger on it, so you chalk it up to his aura changing. Or the allergies. Most likely it’s the allergies.

You’re about to sit in the copilot chair beside him, only to be stopped when Loki laughs again and wraps his fingers around your wrist. All you hear is a faint, “No, silly girl,” before he pulls you in between his legs.

Pulls you with surprising strength, it seems, because your butt lands almost unceremoniously in the crook of his groin and lap. Your knees are hooked over the opposite arm rest, which means if you shift even just the tiniest bit to the side, your hip will come in contact with a certain part of him.

It’s a dilemma, you think with a giggle, if you want to be caught in a hard place.

His arms snake around your waist, pulling you close to him, and it just registers that you’re sitting on his lap holy shit you’re sitting on his lap.

“Are you comfortable?” he murmurs, adjusting your position so he can rest his chin on your shoulder. Instantly your mouth goes dry; it’s the proximity. You’ve never been this close to him before, and being in such a… an intimate position has you tense and rigid on top of him.

“I think so?” you squeak, stilling further as Loki’s nose burrows into your hair. He parts the curtain of your hair with side to side movements, until he buries his face into your neck. He inhales, and a delicious shiver runs down your sides.

“Good,” he breathes.

You’re frozen on his lap, afraid to even let out the smallest puff of air. His face just stays there, in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Are… you okay?”

And then your heart stops, because he’s lifting his head, his fingers brushing your hair to the back and exposing your nape to the cool air. The next second he’s tracing the tip of his nose from your chin up to your earlobe, where he pauses. You’re acutely aware of his lips against your skin, just barely brushing against it. “Never been better.”

He inhales again, deeply, and another shiver runs down your spine. You were wrong to think he was unaffected; something’s changed between you as you slept, and you aren’t sure why or what it is.

“You smell…” He trails off, moving down and back to the spot behind your ear. You swear you feel the slightest whisper of a kiss there, and it takes extra effort to hold in the sigh that’s caught in your throat. “…different.”

“I have a smell?” It comes out with a halfhearted, short laugh; an attempt to ease the thick tension that hangs over you.

Loki only hums in response. This time, with the pressure on your neck and the puffs of his breathing against your skin, you’re sure Loki’s lips are on you. Not a kiss, nothing more—just a steady weight that anchors you in his lap.

Anchors you to the reality that you are in his lap.

“And you are so warm.” The way he says it, his mouth moving against your skin, it’s almost as if he’s talking to himself. His arms around your waist tighten, and your hip comes in contact with a little bulge.

Well, not very little, but…

“Y-yeah, I thought you were going to do something about that.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.”

His hand rests on your exposed thigh, his thumb rubbing hypnotic circles into your skin. “Better?” he asks with his face still buried in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t think so.” Coherency becomes increasingly difficult to achieve; you’re too focused on the sizzle of electricity thrumming within your veins, spidering from where he touches you.

“How about…” His hand glides up your thighs, skimming over your underwear and underneath the baggy shirt until they come up to rest on your hip. “Now?”

You’re sure he kisses you this time, on that sensitive spot below your ear, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from making a sound.

“Still nothing,” you whisper, strained. “As hot as ever.”

There is no second guessing anymore: something wet and hot darts out behind your ear, and Loki’s lips press a firm, lingering kiss there as his hand skims to the center of your stomach. You suck in a shaky breath, your eyes slipping closed at the spark you feel.

“And now?” he questions, just by your ear. The conspiratorial tone and the volume he uses makes you clench in anticipation.

Instead of answering, you shift on his lap—purposefully grinding a little bit on his evident erection. You hear Loki’s breathing change just slightly, his fingers curling on your stomach.

You think he’s about to do something to break the sexual tension and turn it into something tangible, something you both can actually do to ease the ache you’re sure you both feel, but you know the God of Mischief enjoys his games. He enjoys acting unaffected when in fact he is, and you intend to play that to your advantage. Somehow.

“I’m not sure I’m feeling anything,” you say as nonchalant as possible. A plan quickly brews in your mind, and you pretend to notice something on the dashboard. You wriggle in Loki’s lap, making sure to rub him in all the right places as you tell him you swear you saw something whiz past.

The way Loki tenses underneath you brings you a small bout of satisfaction.

“Perhaps,” he starts, his voice clearly strained as you begin to rotate your hips ever so lightly against him, “perhaps a nap is what you need.”

“But Loki,” you say, exaggerated and almost whiny as you lean back against his lean chest, feeling the full extent of his arousal against your lower back, “who’s going to see if the asteroid comes back?”

You yelp as Loki stands, one arm hooked under your knees and the other around your waist. He’s carrying you, the thought floating through your muddled brain.

“Stark will handle it. Like you said. Trust him and his technology, or something like that,” he says, voice a little rough. “It’s bed for you.”

Loki lays you down with surprising gentleness, smoothing the covers around you. You think you might be able to sleep a little now that a little pent up energy has been released, but you only become shell-shocked when Loki climbs into the cot beside you.

It’s not a very large bed, mind you, which means that you’re trapped between his body and the wall of the ship. There isn’t much room to lay on your back when Loki’s in it with you, so you settle on your side while he does the same.

Loki pulls your back to his chest, completely flush against his body. “Relax,” he murmurs. “Try to sleep.”

Yeah, as if you can with something very hard poking into your backside.

For the record, you do try to sleep. You let your eyes drift closed with Loki’s arm draped over you, but even when you reach that half asleep state you’re focused on his erection behind you and his arm slowly making its way under your shirt again.

And somehow, whether it’s of your own doing or your body on autopilot, your hand slowly makes its way behind, reaching between you and placing it flat against his erection.

It’s like time stops. There’s nothing but static in your brain, the only sound the ever-present hum of the ship. As if neither of you dare to breathe. Loki’s fingers rest on your hipbone, where the garter of your underwear rests.

Neither of you move. You stay like this, for how long you don’t know, until Loki exhales a little, pressing his length against your palm.

“Can’t sleep,” you whisper, shifting to ease the budding strain in your arm. “Still hot.”

“So am I,” Loki replies softly.

You don’t think you can tense up further, but your body surprises you. “Maybe…” You don’t know why you’re allowing your question to form and where you’re getting the boldness to ask. “Maybe you should take something off.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you don’t turn around to face him. The sound of the sheets rustling and the mattress shifting is enough to tell you that he got up. Cold dread begins to replace the delicious fire that was coursing through your veins—have you scared him away? Offended him?

The mattress dips again, and Loki’s pulling you against him, in the same spooning position you were in earlier. Only… only he’s shirtless, you realize when your back hits his chest.

Shit, you really want to turn around and take a good look at his gloriously naked chest first.

You’re not sure your heart can take any more when Loki slowly guides your hand back to the evidence of his arousal. Once he places your palm on his erection, his hand is sliding over your skin underneath what you’re wearing, resting just underneath the swell of your breast.

“You know, mortal, you are very pretty,” he admits quietly, his finger dashing against your skin. “And your company is… tolerable.”

“Yeah, you’re not too bad yourself, Reindeer Games.” It comes out rushed, breathy, and a small moan of pain (or is it?) punctuates the end of your sentence as he drags a nail over your skin.

“Do not call me that. Or I will have to punish you.”

When did you decide to court danger?

“Are you threatening me with a good time?”

“Perhaps I am threatening you with the absence of one.”

Fast as lightning, Loki removes his touch from you. “You are still feverish. Perhaps you should take off your shirt.”

“You mean your shirt.” Your heart thumps loudly against your ribcage, your hands now toying with the hem of the fabric. The tone between you two has shifted so drastically, the tension so thick it’s almost suffocating. You sit up, twisting to see Loki lying on his side, his eyes dark and half-lidded.

You maintain eye contact as you grip the end of the shirt, slowly pulling it as it exposes, bit by bit, the upper half of your thighs, your underwear, your stomach, your breasts, until you pull it over your head and toss it to the side. Loki stares at you all the while, a hungry look in his eye, but does nothing.

“Lie back down,” he commands, running a finger over your bare side. “Perhaps now you will be able to cool off.”

He twirls the ends of your hair around his fingers as you do as he says, the warmth of your center now the focus of your attention as it thrums.

Loki props you against him, on your side again, his fingers dancing across your midriff, moving up until he’s tracing the tops of your breasts and ghosting over your nipples.

Your back arches almost unconsciously, pressing into him where he meets you with equal pressure.

Experimentally you gyrate over his erection, making sure to keep your movements slow and agonizing. His hands skim over your breasts until he takes one in his hand, rolling your nipple between his fingers until they pebble.

His head falls onto your shoulder as you keep with your tantalizing dance over his hips, his breathing growing ragged. He tweaks and pulls at your nipples, squeezing and palming your breasts until it’s the only thing that clouds your mind.

“Are you—are you still warm?” he asks, evidently trying and failing to keep his composure as you buck your ass against him particularly hard.

“You tell me.”

He flicks over your breast in response, your head falling back with a barely held back moan.

“Maybe you should take off your pants,” you suggest with a sigh.

“Maybe I should take off yours.”

“I’m not wearing any, remember?”

Loki stills, which makes you do the same. He shifts, gently guiding you to lie on your back. The confusion must be clear as day on your face, because Loki stares at you with those intense green eyes of his as he climbs on top of you.

Your faces are level, his eyes scanning every inch. You’re not sure where this is coming from; one minute he’s all over your breasts and the next he’s quiet and on top of you. He buries his face in your neck for what feels like the millionth time today, setting off a reaction that sends another wave of want to your core.

This time he sucks on your neck, and you gasp. Your hands move to bury into his hair, but Loki pins your arms to the sides by your wrists. You writhe underneath him as he marks you with tongue and teeth.

He peppers kisses around your neck, your throat, your collarbone as he grinds into you. Letting out a small groan, he moves to hover over your lips.

“Tell me to kiss you,” he whispers hoarsely. “Do it. Now.”

The grip on your wrists has slackened and you take the opportunity to pull Loki’s face to yours. Hungry and passionate is what the kiss is: his mouth moves quickly, in sync with yours, as though to make sure every bit of this is real and not just a fever dream. You savor it, the taste of him, leaving you dizzy and delirious with every swipe of his tongue and graze of his teeth against your lips. It’s almost rough, the way he kisses you, but it fits the urgency you feel. You don’t want to have it any other way.

He travels down until he’s suckling at your breasts, and you do everything in your power to hold in the moan that rises in your throat. All you can feel is heat and slick and the pulsing of your blood, overcome with the need to be filled to the brim by him.

You’re about to fumble with his pants when he trails a path of kisses down your torso, stopping when he reaches between your legs.

You’re practically trembling with anticipation now. Seeing Loki in between your legs, a wicked grin on his face, has you wetter than you’ve ever gotten in life. He spreads you apart, settling between them, and feathers kisses over your inner thighs.

“Loki,” you say through gritted teeth, your pussy clenching as he nears your sweet center. “Stop teasing.”

He shifts forward, kissing your hips, your stomach jumping underneath him. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he bares his teeth, scraping over your skin and biting down on the fabric of your underwear.

He slides one side down, his mouth dragging over your thigh, your underwear between his teeth; he does the same to the other side, and again he goes. All the way, pulling your underwear down with his teeth until they’re around your ankles. He discards it lazily, adding it to the growing pile of clothes, and at this point you’re nothing but a whimpering mess.

“So this is the source of your sweet smell,” he mutters as he lowers his head between your legs. You’re shaking lightly, wound tight from the excitement, and when Loki inhales the scent of you, long and drawn out, you almost want to cum right there and then.

“Absolutely divine,” he comments. Then he’s placing his tongue flat against you, your head falling back against the pillow, unable to hold in the moan that spills from your lips.

It’s like an explosion of little lights, you think distantly. Little stars bursting from one touch.

He lifts his head from your cunt with a mischievous grin. “I like that sound, little one. Let’s see how many times I can make you do it again.”

The feeling of Loki’s head between your legs, his mouth inside you, is incomparable. He dives into your cavern, his dexterous tongue causing you to sigh praises that seem to only spur him on. It’s a steady, swirling motion that drives you insane, your pelvis arching.

Then he’s moving up to swipe over your clit, and every nerve ending in your body sizzles and frays, another loud moan of his name ripped from your throat. With a grip of steel, he holds your thighs down, parted wide, as he assaults your clit with sucks and nibbles and licks.

“Loki,” you pant, hips bucking against his mouth. Your insides begin to coil in preparation, your walls clenching around Loki’s tongue. “Loki, I—”

He hums, almost like he’s questioning you, and the vibration on your sensitive parts is enough to send you over the edge.

The orgasm that overtakes you is powerful, pulsing through every part of your body as you whisper his name like a prayer. Only Loki doesn’t stop—he licks up every drop that leaks from you, and it’s enough stimulation for another powerful orgasm to build.

His lips latch onto your clit, sucking rhythmically, as his tongue swipes and swirls around the bundle of nerves.

“Loki,” you try to say, only it comes out a breathy whine, “I want to go down on you too—ah—”

He plunges a finger deep within you, curling against your G-spot in time with his sucks.

“Fucking hell, Loki,” you grind out, your fingernails digging into his scalp as you rotate your hips on his face. You can feel the steady climb to another precipice of an orgasm, as well as the tiny smirk that plays on Loki’s face against you.

Your grip tightens on his hair as he speeds up his movements; rapid, quick swipes on your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you shallowly. Your walls begin to clench at the splinters of release—

“Not yet,” he says, removing his lips and fingers from you with a dark grin.

Frustration wells up within you, but it’s shadowed by the undeniable thrill that shoots towards your center. If you’re understanding Loki right—which you do most of the time—he isn’t finished with you just yet.

He crawls on top of you like a prowling animal, the pure lust in his eyes mirroring what you feel. He captures your lips in a kiss, languid and seductive, his hands cradling your face.

The juxtaposition of the entire situation hits you like a freight train. He’s gentle when he’s holding you like this, like you’re made of glass, but the urgency with which he grinds into your naked mound detonates another explosion of emotions. One action is delicate, the other rough. Contrast bolting through you at the same time and colliding into one as pleasure.

“You’re amazing,” you sigh into his mouth, and you can feel Loki suck in a breath, pausing at your words. Spotting your chance, you roll on top of him, straddling his waist with a smirk.

Loki’s eyes open, a ghost of bewilderment etched onto his face at the sudden shift, and then when he sees your expression he transforms his own into his usual confident half-grin. As though he’s merely amused by this whole situation—but he isn’t fooling you.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, little one,” he drawls, sliding his hands up your sides.

You grab his forearms, pushing them down to his sides as you rock against the clothed tent in his pants. Loki could easily overpower you, you know that, free his arms from your not so vicelike grip, but he lets you. Lets you pin his arms to his sides just as he did to you.

Lowering your head, you run your nose along the expanse of his chest, up to his neck where it’s your turn to inhale deeply. He smells just like the shirt you were wearing, only ten times more potent, and it sends a fresh wave of heady arousal to wash over you.

“Not yet,” you echo his words from earlier, your grip tightening on his wrists as you grind down into him. You can feel Loki about to respond with a snarky remark, so you silence him by suctioning your lips on his neck. Your one track mind has only one goal: mark him with bruises that are of your doing. Claim him as yours.

You lift off him with a little pop; not a very sexy sound, but Loki seems to enjoy it with the way his hips seem to be moving of their own accord. You kiss across his throat before suctioning again on another spot right below his jaw.

This time, you play a little rough.

Loki’s hips jerk upwards as your teeth rake over his skin, his breath fanning over your hair. “Little minx,” he utters, groaning a second later as you push your center against him with a harder bite to his neck.

“Pants off, Loki,” you whisper.

He frees one arm from your grip and haphazardly waves his hand, and your swollen sex comes in contact with the flesh of his hard and heavy cock.

Just as Loki’s about to jerk up and into you, you lift your hips off of him. It kills you to do it, but the teasing, the foreplay, causes you to feel a smidge of power.

“I said, not yet,” you say, sliding down his body until your face is level with his cock.

His length throbs in front of you, and somehow, somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind you think you’ve never seen a cock as beautiful as his. Curious, you lick a stripe down the underside of it, from the base up to the tip.

Loki masks his hiss, turning it into a cheeky exhale, folding an arm under his head. “Go on then. Impress me.”

Whatever intimidation game he’s trying to play, feigning nonchalance, it’s not going to work on you. You take a moment to examine the bead of precum that leaks from his slit, your fingers at the base of his erection, and drag the tip of your tongue over it before sliding your lips over the blunt head.

You don’t bob up and down; unmoving, merely suckling and swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. His hands fist into your hair as your hand and mouth begin to pump up and down his shaft, and just like that promises and praise fall from his lips like wine.

You chance a glance at him, and are utterly pleased by the sight. Loki’s eyes are scrunched shut, barely containing his pleasure, breathing hard through his nose. To have him, a god, reduced to his most carnal needs at your ministrations fills you with gratification. You take him further into your mouth until you can feel him pulsing with almost release, and then you lift off him with a sly grin.

“Not yet,” you repeat in almost a teasing, singsong kind of way.

Loki glares at you, but it’s hardly threatening. You manage to laugh as you level your faces, kissing him hot on the mouth and guiding your slick entrance to his throbbing cock.

You hover over him, not fully seated, his cock just stretching you the slightest bit. Your self-restraint cracks with every passing second you remain unmoving, until Loki takes your hips in his hands and brings you down on top of him, seating you on top of him.

He stretches you in a way you can only describe as full. You lean forward, planting your hands on his lean chest, and rock against him, eyes closing at the feeling.

It’s nothing you could ever conjure up in your wild dreams—he fills you, grinding in time with you and sending you into a barely controlled frenzy. But you keep your movements slow, relishing the way you can feel him throb inside you. Everything feels so new, a first you’ve never experienced: each touch, movement, kiss, no matter how small seems to be amplified in the small ship. It fills you with an unfamiliar, delicious kind of fire, boiling inside you.

“Not—not bad,” Loki grunts, unable to maintain the once casual tone he used before. “For a mortal.”

You swivel your hips and rake your nails over his chest, and Loki’s mouth parts lightly. “Not bad,” you remark, squeezing your muscles around him, “Reindeer Games.”

It’s Loki’s turn to seize his opportunity, it seems, because his eyes fly open, a wild, hungry look to him as he flips you underneath him, his cock still buried in you. The shift in position drives you a little mad, your pussy clenching unconsciously around him.

“What did I say,” he asks dangerously, plowing in and out of you with slow, agonizing strokes, “about calling me that?”

“You’d punish me.” A delicious shiver runs down your spine as the words come out.

“Wonderful that you remember. Because you’re about to forget everything except my name.”

And with that promise, Loki brings your wrists over your head, pinning them above you with a firm grip, his mouth seeking yours as he begins to rut into you more senselessly now. He swallows the moan you make when the tip of his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you, making sure to angle it right where you’re most sensitive.

He doesn’t cease his movements when he latches onto your breast, roughly biting and sucking until you’re whimpering soft cries and pleas and praises. His other hand caresses the curve of your hip and ass before he presses on your clit.

If you were seeing stars earlier, right now you’re seeing entire galaxies explode behind your eyes. The sensations are overwhelming, your legs spread wide open, and just when you think you’ve felt it all, Loki takes you by surprise and pulls you both into a kneeling position. He bounces you on his cock with unrelenting speed, and your arms find their way around his shoulders as you approach orgasm yet again.

You subconsciously flex your walls around him, biting down on his shoulder to prepare you for an orgasm—only Loki slows to a stop, gently laying you back down on your back.

The release that built inside you ebbs away, and you clench around Loki, a silent signal for him to continue. Only Loki pulls himself out of you, resting atop you with his face buried in your neck, suckling another bruise into your skin.

“Loki,” you breathe, his hand cupping your breast, “Loki, please.”

The god has the nerve to smile against you, you feel it. “What did you say to me earlier?”

“You said it to me first, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Loki lifts his head, his eyes boring into yours, blown with desire and yet… something has shifted. Something else is there.

“You are extraordinary,” he tells you, brushing hair away from your forehead. “You have always been the object of my attention, ever since you walked into the board room on your first day.”

Your throat closes with the genuine admission, and you swallow the lump in your throat. “Yeah, well, I always thought you were pretty neat. Maybe we can talk later and finish what we started?”

Loki chuckles, his eyes crinkling, and presses a kiss to your lips. “Smart woman.”

It’s almost as if the tender moment doesn’t happen at all, because Loki’s arms snake underneath you to bring your hips closer to his, plunging into you and reaching a deeper spot that makes both of you groan in earnest. Whatever just happened, you can probably mark it for later with a good sit-down conversation. Right now your focus is on his cock inside you, and you don’t hesitate to tell him how good he’s making you feel.

“Hands above your head,” he commands.

You oblige, and his head immediately dips to your breasts. He’s kissing, licking everywhere he can reach, while your hands tangle in his hair, his shoulders, his muscled back. Your back arches, his cock thrusting mercilessly into you, burying himself to the hilt and brushing against that sweet, sweet spot over and over.

You don’t know how you’re ever going to come back from this. Loki buried within you, your cunt stretching to accommodate him, perfectly slotting into each other. His fingers rub against your clit, adding to your already overloaded senses and fuck, it’s as if all the effects from the foreplay and your heat come crashing down in one big tidal wave.

The speed at which Loki’s pounding into you is almost ungodly, unreal. Your mouth hangs open, your orgasm building with extraordinary intensity—

Almost as quickly as it builds, you’re tipped over the edge, a broken wail of his name accompanying the spasms in your lower body. You’ve never had an orgasm as shattering as this one, your cunt fluttering around Loki even as you slowly come down from your high.

“That’s it,” Loki says, jaw set. “Very good, little one.”

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down—he continues to wreck you, the sounds of your coupling obscenely filling the air. You want him to feel the seismic pleasure you just did—so you clamp around him, rotate your hips in little circles in time with his thrusts.

“You’re absolutely amazing,” you tell him, watching how he slowly unravels with every new praise. You tell him how good he makes you feel, how good he is, perfect and incredible and oh, the things you would do to—

Loki bends down and kisses you ferociously, licking every part of your mouth and biting on your lips as he bucks, going rock hard and cumming inside you. His movements slow, just a fraction, as you let him ride out his high.

“Glorious woman,” he mutters, his eyes still closed as he kisses over every inch of your face.

You’re about to return with a compliment of your own, but are cut off when Loki grinds into you again.

“A-are you still hard?” you ask, a giggle rising to your throat whose tail end turns into another moan.

“I’ve lost count how many times I’ve made you make that wonderful sound,” he says, hips stirring back to life as you feel a fresh bout of slick moisture gush down your legs. “I think that’s quite a success.”

And then he’s flipping you over, on your stomach, pulling your ass up and sliding his still-hard cock back into your dripping folds, reaching depths you didn’t even know you had, evidently ready for another round.

Through your half-lidded eyes, you make out the faint outline of stars—whether they’re from the pleasure you feel or actually there, you don’t know.

-- -- --

You’d think overstimulation would best you, but your entire afternoon—evening, morning, you can’t really tell, space is just completely dark—has been you and Loki all over each other all over the ship.

You can’t tell how long it’s been, but you can feel the ship beginning to descend into Earth’s atmosphere.

“Hey. Hey, Loki—ah, yes, there—”

You’ve also lost track of how many orgasms you’ve had.

You writhe underneath him, searing hot ecstasy blistering in your core as Loki sucks on your clit, his teeth just lightly scraping over it, his fingers smoothing over your inner thighs.

“You taste so sweet, little one,” he murmurs against you, licking through your folds.

“Don’t distract me.” You swat at his head weakly. “I think we’re here.”

“Haven’t touched the ground,” he says, shrugging, making to dive back into your well-spent cunt.

You stop him before he can seduce you into letting him taste you again, and again, as he’d been doing all day.

Whatever warmth you were feeling earlier has completely subsided from your body, and even your mind feels clearer. As soon as you came down from whatever it was, all that was left was a blissful afterglow that you still feel until now.

Surprisingly, you and Loki haven’t had any awkward, dead air—granted, he has been buried in your thighs and yours in his most of the trip. You thought maybe as soon as the strange fever subsided, you’d both be back to whatever it was before this, but apparently not. It seems to have opened up a door, an opportunity, one you both mutually want to walk through together.

“We still have time,” Loki purrs, caressing your folds with his thumbs.

“You’re insatiable,” you sigh, and Loki takes this as a sign to delve back into your warmth, his tongue gliding into you for the umpteenth time today.

“You love it.”

You and Loki disembark the Quinjet, you with shaky legs and him with a sort of spring in his step. You’re not sure what to tell the others when you see them, a tinge of worry sneaking into your bubble of sexual satisfaction.

As soon as you walk into the board room, you’re met with the expectant eyes of the Avengers, studying the pair of you with varying expressions.

And then Loki’s sliding his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him, and the room erupts into shouts of “Called it!” and “No!” and you can’t help but laugh at the raucousness of it all.

“I’m glad we couldn’t take the Bifrost coming back here,” you tell Loki quietly.

“As am I,” he whispers back.

“Yeah, about that,” Stark cuts in, stepping forward, “yeah… you totally could have used it.”

#by belle #smut #loki x you #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki smut #loki imagine #yeah... yeah this VERY long #tom hiddleston imagine #sex pollen

2K notes · View notes

legionofpotatoes · 3 years

Note

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

#anon #asks #long post #sorry I cant actually condense ideas better :(

17 notes · View notes

nostalgiaruinedme · 3 years

Note

Hey I love your fics and writing style and well since I've been meaning to start writing fics I wanted to ask you if you have some advice you'd give.

Ohhh advice? Sure, I can do that! I shall bestow all of my knowledge upon you now, but you gotta look below the cut. Shhhh, it's a secret~

Okay really I just knew this was going to be a really long post and didn't want to clog up everyone's dash lol. ONTO WRITING ADVICE

I kind of live by these rules in writing:

1. Know the rules before you break them 2. ANYTHING can be inspiration 3. Remember the doll 4. Use your resources 5. Don’t hold yourself back 6. Practice 7. Enjoy yourself!!

1. Know the rules before you break them

Pay attention in English class (or whichever class for the language you're writing in) and learn the grammar!! I don't always have perfect grammar in my fics and sometimes I consciously choose to ignore grammar rules to make it more impactful, but you HAVE to know the rules before you break them. Study those grammar lessons! Learn how to use the fun punctuation, like semi colons and em dashes and en dashes and all that good stuff. I know they're scary, but they're a lot of fun too.

ALSO PLEASE USE PARAGRAPH BREAKS IM BEGGING that's like, a HUGE problem I see with a lot of new writers. Paragraph breaks are not optional!! Change 'em when the main topic of the paragraph switches or when a new character is speaking. Overdoing it with paragraph breaks is better than underdoing it, I promise.

2. ANYTHING can be inspiration

Have you ever played Story Cubes?

If you haven’t, it’s essentially this game where you roll the cubes, they each land on a different image, and you gotta tell a story that uses all of those pictures. Some are literally just a question mark or a speech bubble and that’s what you have to use. Me and my siblings used to play the game a lot. And you know what? Some of those stories are the most creative ones we’ve ever come up with. When I say anything can be inspiration for a story or a character, I mean ANYTHING!

I based my Donnie design off of the vintage globes and journals I have in my bedroom.

My little sister threw a pillow at me and it inspired a funny scene I wanted to write in another fic

I designed two OCs off of Mars and Pluto and an ENTIRE 40,000 word fanfiction based off of a space documentary I watched

My NaNoWriMo story last year was based off of the concept of shadows and how cool I thought it’d be if they could talk

Me and my friend made an entire dystopian original story commenting on our world today. It was first inspired by a crack self insert Death Note RP we had at 13 years old. Not kidding.

Literally anything can be inspiration. Challenge your mind!! The best ideas come out of completely ordinary and unexpected opportunities, in my experience. You don’t need one of those super detailed and crazy expensive prompt books (though they are fun) to write a great story. Use music, use a color, use the sky, use your favorite food, use anything! Just find inspiration!

3. Remember the Doll

Remember Mulan?

We never got to see the Huns destroy the village and we didn’t get to see them kill anyone there either. But by showing that doll there, the animators took an entire battle full of death and destruction and summed it all up in one, heartbreaking moment. You don’t need to spend ten pages writing about how horrifying the bad guy was and listing everything he did from start to finish, nor do you need to write an analysis on why she’s bad. All you need to do is show one or two very meaningful ways they impacted the world... and you can do that with something as simple as a doll lying on the ground in a burning village.

Because the doll is there; the little girl is not.

There’s a quote that sums this up really well, and I have it written on the dry erase board by my desk.

“You don't write about the horrors of war. No. You write about a kid's burnt socks lying in the road.” - Richard Price

And adding onto that, try to write more about what’s there, not what isn’t. Mulan didn’t say ANYTHING about the girl in that scene, but by showing what was there, it told us a story about what wasn’t. Focus on what is in the scene and it will tell your reader about what isn’t.

I do think writing a balance is good though, so I try and keep it around a 3/1 ratio of what is there vs what isn’t. Remember this is art though, not math; you can change the formula as you please just to make it feel right. It all depends on the scene and what you want.

4. Use Your Resources

You know how, in the artist community, there’s this sort of stigma around using references? And some artists have to make posts reminding others that there’s nothing wrong with using references and you even should use them?

It’s the same concept in writing!

There is NOTHING wrong with looking to other writers’ work or keep a thesaurus constantly open or bookmarking a reference page of other words to use than “said”. Nothing wrong with it at all! When I write, I always have two tabs open: my writing document and thesaurus.com. I have a folder on my computer bookmarks of ways to describe a smile and a body language dictionary. Before I write fanfic, I watch a “best moments of *character*” compilation video on Youtube to remind myself of how they speak. I watch fight scenes from The 100 or Avatar or Marvel while I write my own battles!

There are SO MANY resources out there for you to reference. Use them! And if you need some to start with, shoot me an ask. I have a ton.

5. Don’t Hold Yourself Back

One of the scariest parts of writing is the thought of “what will people think?” Creative writing is EXTREMELY personal, and you’re going to find a lot of you inside your work, including the thoughts you didn’t want anyone to know about.

People will discover how often you think about love. People will discover how dark your mind can get. People will discover the morals you hold that even you didn’t know about. They’ll discover that the person you swore you’ve moved on from is still on your mind. They’ll discover that the pain you swore you got over still hurts you.

“you can tell the deepest truths with the lies of fiction” - Isabel Allende

This thought scared me a lot, and still does. I’ve let go of and forgotten about so many story ideas because they were just a little too personal. I could write it and not publish it, but what if someone still sees? Writing, like all art, comes right from the heart and reveals a lot about a person. That paranoia of being known kept me from writing so much.

But I promise you, your most powerful stories are going to be the most personal ones.

I wrote Hated Resemblance based on my thoughts about myself, and I wrote Dagger From the Mirror based on thoughts about myself too. A lot of it is dark, most is painful, and all of it is scary to show the world. But I wrote it anyways and it’s created something pretty amazing.

Hell, even now I’m wondering if I should post that lil anecdote, but I think it’s the best way to make this part of my point stronger. See? Writing about things that affect you is the best way to make them impactful, even for something as simple as advice.

And even if you want to write about light and happy stories- you’re still going to have to get personal.

This all got pretty deep but my point is this: Don’t hold yourself back. Write what you feel you need to and it don’t worry about what anyone will think. Don’t hide that one sentence because you’re scared who will read it because you’re scared to be known so deeply. Add it in even when it’s scary.

That’s something I’m still learning how to do, and it’s a slow process that has taken years... but it’s worth it, I promise.

“Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.” - Natalie Goldberg

6. Practice

I started writing in 1st grade. I’ve written regularly since then, and this is my word count every month this year:

Most of that is fanfiction. Some are just random thoughts, some are really thought out posts or answers to your questions, and some are made up of original stories. That total words written number is since November.

You don’t have to write this much every month, I promise, I just don’t really have any other hobbies lol. My point is that practice is really really really important. Write a paragraph or even just a sentence every day. You’re gonna improve so quickly, I promise.

“Write every day. Writing is a muscle that gets stronger with use.” - Abbi Glines

But take breaks too!!! Don’t overwork yourself. Burn out is a real thing and you shouldn’t force yourself to write just because you’re scared you don’t write enough! Write at a pace that’s comfortable for you. There will always be writers out there who write more than you and even more writers who write less than you. That’s okay. Everyone has a pace they’re comfortable with, and you just gotta find yours. As long as you’re writing consistently, the numbers don’t matter too much. 50 words a day or 5000 are both good!

7. Enjoy Yourself!!

You’re here to have fun!

No matter what you’re writing (angst, romance, fix-it, AUs, hurt/comfort, fluff, ANYTHING), remember that fic writing is supposed to be fun!! You’re not getting paid to do this. On one hand, that sucks, but on the other hand it gives you the amazing opportunity to write literally whatever you want! Find projects you’re enthusiastic about, meet other writers, do collabs, make playlists for your story, create over powered OCs for the hell of it, ignore plot holes and write without regard to canon, or write the most realistic and in-depth canon-compliant book ever. Create the most self indulgent story you can think of!

Have fun. This is your story and you get to write the rules. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.

Oh yeah, and one more thing. Be proud of yourself. You can get all of the comments and feedback in the world, but if you’re not proud of what you wrote, it’s gonna be hard to look back on it with joy. Be proud no matter how many reads it gets—you made it!

“I think I did pretty well, considering I started out with nothing but a bunch of blank paper.” - Steve Martin

#can you tell I like writing quotes #I have a whole pinterest board full of them #asks #writing advice #writblr #fanfiction #meg rambles

16 notes · View notes

kindahoping4forever · 4 years

Text

Hot N Cold // Ashton Irwin

Both @cal-puddies and I had to endure disgusting heatwaves last week (it was literally 99 degrees before noon for me) and were laughing that we co-wrote a hot weather trope fic and it turns out, being this warm is not sexy. I took it a step further and declared that I was so uncomfortable I wouldn’t let Ashton near me and Cass was like bitch please and instantly proved me a liar by suggesting a scenario that I eventually spun into this entirely self-indulgent fic. (Exposing screenshots available upon request 😂🤡)

Warnings: Boyfriend!Ash, slight soft!dom Ash, female receiving oral sex/rimming, ice play, unprotected sex within established relationship, gratuitous mentions of Ash with a beard and in basketball shorts because I am a 🤡, I truly cannot express how self-indulgent this is.

Word Count: 4.9k exactly! (And I can never thank Cass enough for being a problem solving, editing queen because otherwise this legit could’ve easily been 10k, I was out of control and have officially been dubbed “the Stephen King of smut”)

Cass & Crystal’s Collab Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

————-

You tap on the thermostat display, hoping that the numbers you’re reading are a mistake.

“Babe, it’s digital, that’s not gonna do anything,” Ashton calls from across the room.

You make a face and continue staring in disbelief. Last week when you invited your boyfriend to stay with you while his home underwent plumbing repairs, you had no idea there would be a heatwave sweeping the city. And as if the heat wasn’t bad enough, a thunderstorm was also predicted so it’s not just hot but humid, which drives you absolutely crazy.

You usually find it cozy when Ash stays at yours, your modest apartment a quaint contrast to his luxurious house. But waking up next to him in your full size bed (a far cry from the king size at his place), with you both already drenched in sweat put you in a sour mood and as the day progresses, along with the temperature, your mood has only gotten worse.

“How could the outside temperature and the inside temperature be that similar, what the fuck,” you grumble.

“It only feels that bad because now you know how hot it actually is, babe,” he suggests, coming up and wrapping his arms around you, kissing your neck, lightly scraping at it with his beard.

You roll your eyes. “No, it feels that bad because it is that bad, babe,” you huff, shrugging his arms off of you. In quick succession, he smirks and then pouts at your brush-off. “Ash, I swear to god, why does it seem like the second it gets above a certain temperature, you get super affectionate just to spite me?”

He grins and reaches for you, pulling you into an embrace once more. “Aww, baby, it’s not out of spite,” he laughs. “I just think you’re cute when you’re irritated.”

Ash squeezes you tight, swaying softly as he kisses the top of your head. Normally you would find yourself melting into his touch but today you just feel like you’re literally melting.

“You’re about to think I’m really fucking adorable then because I’m gonna flip out if you don’t get away from me,” you gripe, wriggling out of his grasp.

You decide to take a cool shower but you’re not surprised to find that it’s so hot outside, the water doesn't get any cooler than lukewarm. You let your frustrated mind wander as it runs over your sweat-covered skin. Of course the heatwave would have to be this weekend. Of course it was unexpected so all your fans are still in storage and of course all the stores in the area are sold out of their stock. Of course you live in an apartment that only has a small air conditioner that’s basically useless. Of course Ashton is annoyingly unaffected by the heat and of course you know it’s unreasonable of you to direct your hostility toward him but… seriously, it’s so annoying. Despite your agitated thoughts and the tepid water, by shower’s end, you have to admit you feel relieved.

Ash’s back is turned when you approach the kitchen. Now that both your body and your temper have had a chance to cool, you’re much more appreciative of his presence. You stand in the doorway, admiring his considerable build: how broad his back looks even as he hunches over, digging through a drawer, how the narrow cut of his tank top makes his shoulders look even larger than usual, how his favorite basketball shorts cling to his ass. By the time his arms start flexing as he stirs what looks like a pitcher of sweet tea, you’re padding over to him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Heyyy,” he chuckles, slinging an arm around you and bringing you to his side. “You seem to be feeling better.”

“Better, cooler and nicer,” you declare, pecking at his chest to prove your point. “Sorry I was being a mega bitch.”

He snorts. “No offense but when I saw the heat advisory on my phone last night, I kind of knew what I was gonna be up against.”

You pinch his arm, half offended. “No, my love, I could never think of you as a mega bitch,” you offer the reply you would’ve preferred, in a mocking voice.

He shakes his head with a smile. “Would I have gone to this much trouble if I really thought that of you?” He gestures towards the living room where he’s spread your spare comforter on the floor in front of the AC; two cold cut sandwiches, a tub of leftover macaroni salad from yesterday’s dinner and a fresh bag of your favorite chips sit on the coffee table.

You enjoy your “picnic” and continue lounging in front of the AC long after you’re finished eating. Ashton returns from clearing your dishes to discover you sprawled out on your stomach, complaining that you sat on the floor too long and your entire body feels numb.

He cocks an eyebrow as he lays down next to you and lands a hard smack across your ass. You yelp but honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. You glare at him, unimpressed.

“Just trying to help,” he shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Mmm hmm, sure,” you giggle, turning to face him. “Quick question, why are you like this?”

He pulls you closer. “Don’t act like it’s just me, I felt you ogling me in the kitchen,” he teases. “I know you’re turned on, look how hard your nipples are.” He grabs a handful of your breast and pinches to emphasize his point.

You snort laugh, “I’ve been sitting in front of an air conditioner, you dummy.”

He makes a sheepish face and you both crack up. Your joint giggle fit easily transitions into a comfortable, lazy makeout session. You’re about to finally reach your hand inside his shorts when you both pull away after hearing a noise. It takes only a few seconds of humid air on your skin for you to realize that the AC has stopped. “The power’s gone out,” you announce, gently pushing his body off of you so that you can go flip the circuit breakers. “Maybe we had the air on for too long?”

A few minutes later, Ash joins you in the kitchen, where you’re fiddling with the breaker box. “Nothing,” you tell him, frowning at the panel.

“Seems like it’s the whole complex, all your neighbors are out wandering around,” he reports. “Maybe a rolling blackout from the heat? Or I guess it could be the storm? Looked like the signal at the end of the street was out.”

“Fantastic,” you seethe.

Ash reaches for your hand, pressing a kiss to your clenched fist. “It’ll be fine, baby, this is just a good excuse for us to order dinner. And the sun will be going down soon, so it’ll have to cool off!"

You nod slowly, not believing him but appreciating the effort. "You just don't want me to be mean to you again," you tease.

You start looking for your lanterns and candles in case the power doesn't come back before nightfall. Which of course, it doesn’t. And despite Ashton's optimism, it doesn't cool off much either. You know the heat must actually be extreme when even he starts commenting on it.

He spots your cooler in the closet and offers to run down to the corner gas station and grab some ice to fill it with so you could at least have cold drinks. It doesn’t make much of a difference to you but you know he’s trying to do anything he can to make you more comfortable, so you tell him it’s a great idea.

He returns quickly, triumphantly lifting up a comically large party bag of ice with one hand. "This was the only size they had," he explains. You smile softly and kiss his shoulder in silent thanks as you pass by on your way to gather the drinks.

The rest of the evening is uneventful. You attempt a candlelit dinner, but you both quickly agree it’s more impractical than romantic and replace the candles with your bright ass camping lantern.

You make it an early night, not because you're tired but because you need the day to end. You thought fresh sheets sounded cooling but when Ash enters the bedroom, he finds you sitting defeatedly in the middle of the half-made bed and in the dim candlelight, he can’t tell if it’s sweat or frustrated tears he spies falling down your face. “OK, that’s enough,” he announces, reaching for your arm to drag you up from the bed. “You’re getting in the shower, I’m dealing with this.”

You’re pleased to find the water has cooled and the candles you have illuminating the bathroom makes for a much more relaxing environment than your previous shower. You haven’t been in long when you feel Ash’s beard scratching your back as he presses small kisses to your shoulders. You smile to yourself and face him, wrapping your arms around him. “You had to put up with a lot from me today,” you start. You peck along his neck and jaw, landing at his lips, which you kiss softly. “I just want you to know I appreciate it.”

He holds you against him. “It was a long, shit day,” he shrugs. “I was just sorry to see you having such a bad time. Wanted to do what I could."

You lean in and you make out sweetly, enjoying the feel of each other's lips and the cool water. You feel him start to dip his hands in between your legs but you gently push them away. "I'm good, baby, just wanted to thank you." You peck his lips and leave him to finish showering.

You’re in the middle of putting lotion on when you feel Ashton’s hands on you again; he hasn’t even bothered with a towel, as if he couldn’t waste a second moving from the shower back to your body.

"Ashhhh,” you giggle. “I promise I’m fine… and where’s your towel? You’re dripping everywhere.”

His hand has found its way between your legs again and he swipes a finger through your folds. “Well, I’m not the only one,” he quips. "I knew you were getting riled up over there." He sucks and nibbles at your neck, causing you to groan. "Baby, you've been stressed all day. Let me get you off, it's the least I can do."

You sigh and nod, unable to deny the way you’re throbbing for his attention; he lifts you onto the bathroom counter and you find yourself almost involuntarily spreading your legs for him. “That’s my good girl,” he coos, kissing your inner thighs, running his beard along them the way he knows you like. He uses the tip of his tongue to flick at your clit, chuckling to himself as you instantly shudder and tangle your fingers in his wet hair.

You pant heavily while he flattens his wide tongue and laps at your pussy. By the time his lips wrap around your clit, you’re bucking up onto his face, begging him for more.

You’re puzzled when he suddenly draws you down from the counter and pushes you over it, remaining on his knees. He spreads your legs again and swirls his tongue around your clit; he then licks all the way from your clit to your asshole, fluttering his tongue over it several times. A guttural whine rips through your throat.

“That a good noise, baby?” Ash asks, kneading your ass in his hands. “Want me to keep going?”

All you can manage is a pitifully whimpered “Uh-huh” and he smirks to himself as he dives back in, spreading your cheeks with his thumbs and rolling his tongue over your tight ring. You can’t remember the last time you were this turned on and it’s overwhelming, the added sensation of his beard making it even more stimulating. You nearly shriek when his hand starts working your clit.

“Please Ash... yeah… oh FUCK...” Nonsense spills from your lips as he licks you and you can’t help but roll your hips against his hand. His mouth pauses for a second and you’re about to complain when suddenly he’s pressing his tongue inside your hole. “Jesus Christ, Ash!” You cry out, white knuckling the edge of the counter.

He groans in response to your outburst and you can feel the vibrations of it as he pushes his tongue in further. You reach back and grab at his hair, desperate for something to hold onto, desperate to pull him even closer. His tongue darts in and out of your ass while his fingers rub tight, relentless circles around your clit.

Your orgasm hits you without warning and for a second, you’re not sure if you’re going to live through it; your entire body shakes, your legs feel like jelly and your eyes are squeezed shut so tight you’re seeing stars. He reaches his free hand up to support you and continues to lick and rub you as it goes on, even as your fingers viciously yank at his hair.

You let yourself slump over the counter, enjoying the cool feeling of the marbling on your heated skin. You feel Ash’s lips softly kissing up your back and his hand stroking your hair. “You did so good, baby, thank you,” he praises, rubbing your back. “Thought you deserved a treat after the day you've had.”

“That was… wow?” You rasp, surprised at your voice’s scratchiness; you didn’t realize you were screaming but you must have been judging from how wrecked you sound. “ ‘M all sweaty though, gonna need to rinse off again,” you laugh.

“Oops,” his giggle echoes through the bathroom. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He helps you stand upright and presses a kiss to your head. You note that he’s fairly hard but he leaves the room before either of you mention it.

You enter the bedroom a few minutes later and discover it empty; you’ve just pulled on a cotton slip nightgown when your shirtless boyfriend appears, carrying two bottles of water and two cups filled with ice. He sits yours on the nightstand and wanders over to where you’re towel drying your hair. You lovingly roll your eyes as he immediately wraps his arms around you; he’s changed back into his shorts and they’re doing nothing to disguise the erection you noticed in the bathroom.

“Always love this nightgown on you,” he breathes, mouth biting at your earlobe, hands running up and down your sides. “Do you remember you wore it the first time you stayed over at mine?”

You smile at the memory. “And I thought you only liked it because it’s see-through in the light,” you tease, spinning out of his hold. You love him like this so you don’t want to outright reject him but you also can’t imagine having sex in this sweltering bedroom and aren’t about to take your fourth shower of the day.

You prop your pillows up so you can drink your ice water and check your phone while you still have some battery left. Ash sits next to you and you can already feel the heat radiating off of him. He absentmindedly places his hand on your thigh, squeezing every so often as it creeps higher. You slide your hand into his, bring it to your lips and kiss his knuckles briefly before setting it back on his own leg.

“I really should’ve let you buy me that bigger bed like you offered when you first started sleeping over,” you joke, hoping he’ll understand your meaning.

He chuckles and searches your face sympathetically, “Am I making you warm, baby? I’m sorry,” he pouts. “It’s getting better though, I opened the window before our shower and the storm’s bringing a breeze in.” He snakes an arm around you and leans you closer, pecking your cheek.

“It’s still pretty bad in here… and you’re still kind of a radiator, Ash,” you gently complain.

He frowns, then pauses and his face suddenly changes expression. “I know something we can do to take your mind off that…”

You make a face. “Baby… I know you're hard but it has been such a ridiculous day," you gently explain. "I'll kiss you while you jerk off if you want? I just cannot fathom having you on me right now.”

“First of all, I never said I wanted to be on you,” he notes. “Second, I just feel bad you’re already so tense again, babe, we gotta get you to relax.” He massages your neck as he talks and you didn’t realize how stiff your muscles were until that moment. “I know it’s not gonna be an easy night sleeping in here and I was just thinking you always sleep so much better right after you cum...”

Despite the heat, your body is buzzing at his touch. “Goddammit, that’s a fair point,” you concede and he laughs under his breath. “Feel like whatever you have in mind is only gonna make me feel even warmer though.”

His eyes shine with playful desire. “Not necessarily…” he replies mysteriously. “Trust me?”

You hate how curious you are and how much his vagueness is turning you on. “You get five minutes to prove this is worth it… or until I start sweating, whichever is first.”

Ash chuckles, “I think we both know you’ll be begging for my cock long before then.”

You shake your head at him and then he's kissing you and laying you down. "Close your eyes," he requests. You look at him skeptically. "I'm assuming you think it's too warm for the blindfold," he points out and you nod in agreement.

He hovers over you and brushes his lips lightly against yours. "So gorgeous laying there, just waiting for me," he whispers low, knowing the praise will make you swoon. "Can you get your tits out for me, baby?"

You slip your thin straps off your shoulders and tug your nightgown down your torso, exposing your chest. Your breath is already heavy with anticipation when you feel Ashton's hands run up your thighs on his way to knead your breasts. His touch feels warmer than you'd like but his firm, calloused grip is always welcome.

His hands disappear for a second and you hear some generic rustling; you assume you'll be feeling his mouth next but what you don't expect is the intense cold of the ice cube he has in between his teeth. A squeal escapes your throat and your eyes shoot open at the sensation of him dragging the ice down your neck and in between your tits; the combined heat of your skin and his mouth starts melting it instantly and freezing water drips down your body.

“Ash, what the fuck?!” You cry out with a shocked laugh. He tugs your nightgown lower and continues his travels, bringing the cube down over your stomach, water dissolving all over your midsection.

You whine as he pulls back and grins. “OH, did... did you want me to continue?” He taunts, chewing what was left in his mouth. “Didn’t take long for you to decide this was ‘worth it,’ huh, baby?”

He reaches for the cup on your nightstand and drops another cube in his mouth before lowering himself to your chest. His cold fingers play with one of your nipples while he sucks the other between his lips; his tongue swirls the ice around your pointed bud and the dueling feelings of the frozen cube and his warm tongue is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You hold his head to your chest, running your fingers through his damp, curling hair. “Ash, babyyyyyy,” you breathe dreamily as he moves his attention to your other nipple. “This was a good idea, you were right.” Even with his mouth around you, he manages to grin at your concession and you arch your back into him.

“Love it when you talk dirty,” he smugly responds. He brings the remaining portion of his cube to the front of his lips and traces it over yours before slipping it back in his mouth and kissing you deeply. You whimper as he slowly transfers the cube into your mouth with his tongue. He tugs your lip between his teeth as he pulls away and you moan loudly at the realization that you can’t feel it because your lips are numb from the ice.

Ashton sits back on his knees and you reach for him, immediately missing his attention. "Want you," you admit, stretching your arm until your hand lands on his bulging crotch. “Need you. Need this.”

He takes a page out of your book and pulls your hand up to his lips, kissing it and sitting it away from him. “Oh I know you need it, baby,” he teases, slipping his hand inside your panties to feel your wetness. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it... but first… can’t let my last ice cube go to waste.”

He smiles at your annoyed sigh as he snatches the cup from the table and moves down your body. You know that look in his eye and for once tonight, you know what he’s thinking. He starts to raise the cup to his lips as you whine, “Oh my god, Ash, don’t,” pushing him away with your feet.

He cocks his head and rubs his hands up and down your legs. “You know your word,” he replies and looks at you expectantly. You hold each other’s gaze for several beats and then his hands yank your panties off. Your nightgown is still bunched around your waist and you finally pull it all the way off, making yourself bare for him.

Ash raises the cup in your direction in mock cheers and finally slides the ice into his mouth. In the time it takes you to blink he’s already between your legs, running the tip of the cube up and down your lips. You shift your hips to meet his touch and he lightly slaps your thigh to get you to settle.

He moves through your folds, nudging at your entrance for just a second before moving on; you brace yourself as he reaches your clit. He teases around it first with only his tongue and your heart pounds as you wait for the cold to shock you. After what feels like half a lifetime, a burst of piercing iciness shoots through your entire body, starting at your core. You let out a long, low moan as he alternates flicking the frozen cube over your clit and then running his warm tongue against you in raging contrast.

He sucks at your clit softly before moving to kiss up your inner thighs as he sits up. You didn’t see it happen but he apparently slipped the ice into his hand because now he’s pressing it directly on your clit, letting it melt, causing you to moan and writhe.

"ASH PLEASE… oh my godddd…” you cry, grabbing his wrist. You’re not quite sure if you want him to stop or to keep going until you cum so you just hold onto his arm, begging. “Fuck me, please, need you to fuck me, Ash!”

Smiling, he firmly grinds the last of the cube against your clit and you thrash as it melts within seconds. He slips two fingers inside you and you shudder at how cold they are. “Knew I could get you begging for me, baby” he growls, smirking as he kisses up your body. “You sure it’s 'worth it'? Maybe you’re right, maybe it is too warm? This pussy feels pretty warm to me.” He skillfully juts his fingers in and out of you as he taunts you.

You whimper pathetically in response and he chuckles. “Alright, baby, you’ve been so good for me tonight, I’ll let you have my cock,” he declares. “Hands and knees for me, gorgeous.”

Ashton pulls his shorts off while you do your best to get into position, unsteady from all the stimulation. You can’t help yourself and as soon as you get up on your knees you lunge for him, capturing his mouth in a filthy kiss and your hand tugs at his cock, easily coaxing out a trickle of precum.

He murmurs into your kiss, letting you have your moment and then in one swift move, he swats your hand away and pulls you off his lips by wrapping his hand around your throat. “I said hands and knees, baby,” he reminds you, squeezing lightly.

You can’t quite find your voice to moan but if you had, it would’ve been the loudest yet. You get into position and for the first time tonight, you notice the curtains billowing as the long-promised stormy breeze fills the room. You’re about to point it out but you decide to bite your lip instead because the head of Ash’s cock is pushing up against your entrance.

You sigh restlessly and slowly push back on him, eager to have him inside you but he promptly halts your hips and roughly smacks your ass for trying. “Don’t be desperate,” he reprimands sternly.

You mumble a pitiful “Sorry” and he rubs over the stinging redness of his handprint in acknowledgment. He slides his cock over your pussy a couple times, slicking it with your arousal, enjoying how your legs shake every time he juuuust misses running his tip over your clit. Then he starts pushing in for real, at an agonizingly slow rate; he knows you’re already on the verge of overstimulation and he knows you’re aching to cum but he loves teasing you, loves making you feel every inch of him as he enters you.

You hang your head, breathing his name so softly you almost don’t even hear it yourself. The thrill of finally having him inside you combined with the sublime stretch as his thickness gradually fills you is overwhelming; if you wanted to, you honestly think you might be able to cum from this alone. For a moment it crosses your mind to tell him this but in the next, you realize he already knows.

“Love watching you take me,” Ash praises you, finally bottoming out. “You’ve really gotta see it sometime, baby, there’s nothing like it.”

You whine at his words and your sounds increase as he thrusts into you, wasting no time setting a punishing rhythm, you’ve both waited long enough for this. “Feels… so… good… babe…” you pant, voice quivering as his hips hit forcefully against yours. Your hands are cramping from how tightly you’re gripping the sheets in front of you but you don’t know how else to handle the intensity of what you’re feeling.

Ashton grunts, slapping your ass once on each cheek. He fucks into you rapidly and it's not long before his fingers dig into where he’s holding your hips; this means he’s getting close. You slide your hand to your clit and start rubbing, burying your face in the bed as you let out a choked sigh. He speeds up the pace when he notices. “I’m almost there too, baby,” he puffs. “Go ahead and cum, baby. Fuck, you deserve it.”

The soft howling of the wind, the vigorous slapping of Ash’s skin on yours and your muffled moans are all that can be heard for the next minute or so. Your sounds gain volume as your pussy begins to throb and you finally feel your walls tensing around him. He fucks you through it, murmuring about what a good girl you are, how beautiful you look.

As your orgasm reaches its end, you hear Ash continuing to mumble but you realize it’s mostly nonsense; seconds later you feel his cock pulsing as he empties his load inside you. He groans loudly, running his thumbs over the fresh marks he’s left on your hips and slowly pumping into you a few more times before sighing and pulling out.

He pecks a kiss on the small of your back and then he grabs the tissues on your vanity to clean you up. You lay on your stomach, sleepy but satisfied; when he’s done, he lays beside you. “How are we feeling?” He asks, running his hand through your hair.

You smile dreamily at him. “Like I’m gonna sleep real good tonight,” you joke. You scoot closer to him and lightly kiss his bearded chin. “Like I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through today without you. Like I love you a lot.”

Ashton’s eyes shine fondly at you through the darkness. "I'm happy to hear that, there were a few times today I wasn't sure if you still liked me," he cracks. You poke him and he kisses your pouted lips. "I love you too, by the way."

You finish getting ready for bed and as you blow out the candles around the room, Ash instinctively moves closer to the edge of the bed; he's sure you'll want to sleep as far apart as possible. "Is it supposed to be this hot again tomorrow?" He asks.

"Yup," you answer, surprisingly unbothered, getting back in bed.

He frowns. "What do you think we should do?"

You surprise him again by curling into him, tangling your legs with his. "We've got all day and half a bag of ice left," you grin mischievously. "I think we'll be fine."

—-

Tag list: @cal-puddies @mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore @loveroflrh @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @feliznavidaddycal @castaway-cashton @boomerash @cashtonasfuck @megz1985 @ashdork-irwin @ashtonangst @angelicfluffs @findingliam-o @abadaftertaste

Click here if you’d like to be tagged for future fics and click here if your name is on my list but crossed out (Tumblr won’t let me @ you)

#5sos smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton smut #5 seconds of summer smut #ashton irwin fic #kindahoping4forever #kh4f fic #smut #Hot N Cold #when i tell you i lost my goddamn mind writing this smfh #it was literally about 3k before i even got to their lunch at one point #their lunch was an entire oneshot tbqh it had to go #them in the shower together? originally 1k and absolute filth #it will be repurposed for a blurb because honestly it was some top shelf clownery if i do say so myself 🤡🤡#hopefully this was worth the 14 breakdowns i had over it #Feedback is appreciated #forever shouts to Cass for not only listening to my breakdowns but legit telling me i use too many fucking words to describe things #a note was literally 'so many words to say 'they made out. they felt each other up.'#FRIENDSHIP 🦦🦦

269 notes · View notes

to-read-or-not-to-read3088 · 3 years

Text

70+ disabled, neurodiverse and chronically ill authors COLLAB

This post is in collaboration with several other bloggers whose links are included here:

Artie Carden

Anniek

Hi! It’s been a while since I posted anything, but this post has been a month in the making. I have twenty books by twenty authors for my part in this collaboration, and you can check out the other parts of the collab with the links at the top of the post.

I haven’t read some of these books but almost all of them are on my to be read pile, and I did extensive research to make sure I got this right, but please let me know if there are any mistakes or if anything needs to be corrected.

1. Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee

📷

Meet Cute Diary follows Noah Ramirez who thinks he’s an expert on romance. He must be for his blog, the Meet Cute Diary, a collection of trans happily ever afters. There’s just one problem. All the stories are fake. What started off as the fantasies of a trans boy who was afraid to step out of the closet has grown into a beacon of hope for trans readers across the globe. Noah’s world unravels when a troll exposes the blog as fiction, and the only way to save the Diary is to convince everyone that the stories are true, but he doesn’t have any proof. That’s when Drew walks into Noah’s life, and the pieces fall into place. Drew is willing to fake date Noah to save the Diary. But when Noah’s feelings grow beyond their staged romance, he realises that dating in real life isn’t the same as finding love on the page.

The author, Emery Lee, is a kid lit author, artist and YouTuber hailing from a mixed racial background. After graduating with a degree in creative writing, e’s gone on to author novels, short stories and webcomics. When away from reading and writing, you’ll likely find em engaged in art or snuggling with cute dogs.

Emery Lee is nonbinary, and uses e/em pronouns, and e’s debut book, Meet Cute Diary, features a side character who is also nonbinary (and asexual!). Emery is also neurodivergent, and frequently speaks about what its like being a writer with adhd on twitter.

Meet Cute Diary is a book I only discovered last month, when it was published, but I’m excited to read it. It has representation of all kinds, and I love any book that has even a little mention of an asexual character because its so rare to see.

2. Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

📷

At Niveus Private Academy money paves the hallways, and the students are never less than perfect. Until now. Because an anonymous texter calling themselves Aces, is bringing two students’ dark secrets to light. Devon, a talented musician, buries himself in rehearsals, but he can’t escape the spotlight when his private photos go public. Chiamaka, head girl, isn’t afraid to get what she wants, but soon everyone will know the price she has paid for power. Someone is out to get them both. Someone who holds all the aces. And they’re planning much more than a high school game.

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, is the author of the instant New York Times and IndieBound bestseller, Ace of Spades, billed as ‘Get out meets Gossip Girl’. Entertainment Weekly has called it “this summer’s hottest YA debut”. She was born and raised in Croydon, South London, and Faridah moved to the Scottish Highlands for her undergraduate degree where she completed a BA in English Literature. She has established and runs and mentorship scheme for unagented writers of colour, helping them on their journey to get published. Faridah has also written for NME, The Bookseller, Readers Digest and gal-dem.

Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé’s book is one that I pre-ordered months in advance, after discovering that I actually really liked this sub-genre of YA, and although I still haven’t read it yet (sorry!), I’m still super excited to dive into it. From what I hear, it has some gay rep, which we all know by now is something I seek out in my books.

3. Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses by Kristen O’Neal

📷

Priya has worked hard to pursue her pre med dreams at Stanford, but a diagnosis of chronic Lyme disease during her sophomore year sends her straight back to her loving but overbearing family in New Jersey and leaves her wondering if she’ll ever be able to return to the way things were. Thankfully she has her online pen pal, Brigid, and the rest of the members of “oof ouch my bones,” a virtual support group that meets on Discord to crack jokes and vent about their own chronic illnesses. When Brigid suddenly goes offline, Priya does something very out of character; she steals the family car and drives to Pennsylvania to check on Brigid. Priya isn’t sure what to expect, but it isn’t the creature that’s shut in the basement. With Brigid nowhere in sight, Priya begins to puzzle together an impossible but obvious truth: the creature might be werewolf – and the werewolf might be Brigid. As Brigid’s unique condition worsens, their friendship will be deepened and challenged in unexpected ways, forcing them to reckon with their own ideas of what it means to be normal.

Kristen O’Neal is a freelance writer who’s written for sites like Buzzfeed Reader, Christianity Today, Birth.Movies.Death, LitHub and Electric Literature. She writes about faith, culture, and unexplained phenomena. Her debut novel, Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses is based on her own experiences with being chronically ill. Kristen has two autoimmune disorders and “a number of other problems and issues” with her body. According to her website, she is doing much better than she used to, but still has flares somewhat regularly.

I cannot describe the feeling of seeing a published book with the best group chat name I have ever seen. Oof ouch my bones is absolutely something that I would be part of if it really existed, because its just such a mood, and funny at the same time. I pre ordered this book too, but like all the others, I still haven’t gotten around to reading it. I’m super excited about it though and cannot recommend it enough.

4. Only Mostly Devastated by Sophie Gonzales

📷

Will Tavares is the dream summer fling – he’s fun, affectionate, kind – but just when Ollie thinks he’s found his Happily Ever After, summer vacation ends, and Will stops texting Ollie back. Now Ollie is one prince short of his fairy tale ending, and to complicate the fairy tale further, a family emergency sees Ollie uprooted and enrolled at a new school across the country. Which he minds a little less when he realises it’s the same school Will goes to…except Ollie finds out that the sweet, comfortably queer guy he knew from summer isn’t the same one attending Collinswood High. This Will is a class clown, closeted – and to be honest, a jerk. Ollie has no intention of pining after a guy who clearly isn’t ready for a relationship, especially since this new, bro-y jock version of Will seems to go from hot to cold every other week. But then Will starts “coincidentally” popping up in every area of Ollie’s life, from music class to the lunch table, and Ollie finds his resolve weakening. The last time he gave Will his heart, Will handed it back to him trampled and battered. Ollie would have to be an idiot to trust him with it again. Right? Right.

Sophie Gonzales was born and raised in Whyalla, South Australia, where the Outback Meets the Sea. She now lives in Melbourne, where there’s no outback in sight. Sophie’s been writing since the age of five, when her mother decided to help her type out one of the stories she had come up with in the bathtub. They ran into artistic differences when five-year-old Sophie insisted that everybody die in the end, while her mother wanted the characters to simply go out for a milkshake. Since then, Sophie has been completing her novels without a transcript. Sophie Gonzales tweets about her experiences with ADHD on her twitter.

Only mostly devasted is one of the few books on this list that I’ve read. I read the whole thing in one sitting because I just couldn’t put it down, which is weird because I normally don’t read contemporary at all. I have recommended this book to literally everyone I know, and even bought my best friend a copy to convince her to read it.

5. The Bone Houses by Emily Lloyd Jones

📷

Seventeen-year-old Aderyn ("Ryn") only cares about two things: her family, and her family's graveyard. And right now, both are in dire straits. Since the death of their parents, Ryn and her siblings have been scraping together a meagre existence as gravediggers in the remote village of Colbren, which sits at the foot of a harsh and deadly mountain range that was once home to the fae. The problem with being a gravedigger in Colbren, though, is that the dead don't always stay dead. The risen corpses are known as "bone houses," and legend says that they're the result of a decades-old curse. When Ellis, an apprentice mapmaker with a mysterious past, arrives in town, the bone houses attack with new ferocity. What is it that draws them near? And more importantly, how can they be stopped for good? Together, Ellis and Ryn embark on a journey that will take them deep into the heart of the mountains, where they will have to face both the curse and the long-hidden truths about themselves.

Emily Lloyd-Jones grew up on a vineyard in rural Oregon, where she played in evergreen forests and learned to fear sheep. After graduating from Western Oregon University with an English degree, she enrolled in the publishing program at Rosemont College just outside of Philadelphia. She currently resides in Northern California.

Another book on my to be read pile that I’m super excited to read, but still haven’t gotten around to. This one features disability rep, but because I haven’t read it, I don’t know much more, sorry guys.

6. Mooncakes by Susanne Walker and Wendy Xu

📷Nova Huang knows more about magic than your average teen witch. She works at her grandmothers' bookshop, where she helps them loan out spell books and investigate any supernatural occurrences in their New England town. One fateful night, she follows reports of a white wolf into the woods, and she comes across the unexpected: her childhood crush, Tam Lang, battling a horse demon in the woods. As a werewolf, Tam has been wandering from place to place for years, unable to call any town home. Pursued by dark forces eager to claim the magic of wolves and out of options, Tam turns to Nova for help. Their latent feelings are rekindled against the backdrop of witchcraft, untested magic, occult rituals, and family ties both new and old in this enchanting tale of self-discovery.

Suzanne Walker is a Chicago-based writer and editor. She is co-creator of the Hugo-nominated graphic novel Mooncakes (2019, Lion Forge/Oni Press). Her short fiction has been published in Clarkesworld and Uncanny Magazine, and she has published nonfiction articles with Uncanny Magazine, StarTrek.com, Women Write About Comics, and the anthology Barriers and Belonging: Personal Narratives of Disability. She has spoken at numerous conventions on a variety of topics ranging from disability representation in sci-fi/fantasy to comics collaboration.

Wendy Xu is a Brooklyn-based illustrator and comics artist. She is co-creator of and currently draws the webcomic Mooncakes. Her work has been featured on Tor.com, as part of the Chinese American: Exclusion/Inclusion exhibit permanently housed at the Chinese Historical Society of America, and in Shattered: The Asian American Comics Anthology. She occasionally teaches at the Asian American Writers Workshop and currently works as an assistant editor curating young adult and children’s books.

Suzanne Walker suffers from hearing loss, something that she wrote into her graphic novel, Mooncakes, making Nova hard of hearing. I read this in a few years ago as an advance reader copy for Netgalley and it was honestly one of the best graphic novels I have ever read. The main characters are Chinese American, queer AND magic, which is an amazing combination of representation.

7. Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

📷

Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can’t pull it off alone… A convict with a thirst for revenge A sharpshooter who can’t walk away from a wager A runaway with a privileged past A spy known as the Wraith A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes Kaz’s crew is the only thing that might stand between the world and destruction—if they don’t kill each other first.

Leigh Bardugo is a #1 New York Times bestselling author of fantasy novels and the creator of the Grishaverse (now a Netflix original series) which spans the Shadow and Bone Trilogy, the Six of Crows Duology, The Language of Thorns, and King of Scars—with more to come. Her short stories can be found in multiple anthologies, including the Best American Science Fiction & Fantasy. Her other works include Wonder Woman: Warbringer and Ninth House (Goodreads Choice Winner for Best Fantasy 2019) which is being developed for television by Amazon Studios.

Leigh grew up in Southern California and graduated from Yale University. These days she lives and writes in Los Angeles.

In the acknowledgements section of Six of Crows, Bardugo reveals she suffers from osteonecrosis and sometimes needs to use a cane; this was a source of inspiration for one of the story's six protagonists, master thief and gang boss Kaz Brekker, who uses a cane.

I read Six of Crows a few years ago and I really loved it. I’m not going to pretend I managed to finish the whole Grishaverse series, because I haven’t even gotten close yet, but it really showed Kaz’s struggles with his disability, and his mental health. This is part of a duology, and the duology is part of a large series of books with another duology and trilogy, but Six of Crows can be read without reading the others.

8. Hyperbole and A Half by Allie Brosh

📷

This is a book I wrote. Because I wrote it, I had to figure out what to put on the back cover to explain what it is. I tried to write a long, third-person summary that would imply how great the book is and also sound vaguely authoritative--like maybe someone who isn’t me wrote it--but I soon discovered that I’m not sneaky enough to pull it off convincingly. So, I decided to just make a list of things that are in the book: Pictures Words Stories about things that happened to me Stories about things that happened to other people because of me Eight billion dollars* Stories about dogs The secret to eternal happiness* *These are lies. Perhaps I have underestimated my sneakiness!

Allie is an American blogger, writer and comic artist best known for her blog in the form of a webcomic Hyperbole and a Half. Brosh started Hyperbole in 2009 and told stories from her life in a mix of text and intentionally crude illustrations. She has published two books telling stories in the same style, both of which have been New York Times bestsellers. Brosh lives with severe depression and ADHD, and her comics on depression have won praise from fans and mental health professionals.

Another book on my tbr that I just haven’t gotten around to but really want to.

9. The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness

📷

What if you aren’t the Chosen One? The one who’s supposed to fight the zombies, or the soul-eating ghosts, or whatever the heck this new thing is, with the blue lights and the death? What if you’re like Mikey? Who just wants to graduate and go to prom and maybe finally work up the courage to ask Henna out before someone goes and blows up the high school. Again. Because sometimes there are problems bigger than this week’s end of the world, and sometimes you just must find the extraordinary in your ordinary life. Even if your best friend is worshipped by mountain lions...

Patrick Ness, an award-winning novelist, has written for England’s Radio 4 and Sunday Telegraph and is a literary critic for The Guardian. He has written many books, including the Chaos Walking Trilogy, The Crash of Hennington, Topics About Which I Know Nothing, and A Monster Calls. He has won numerous awards, including the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize, the Booktrust Teenage Prize, and the Costa Children’s Book Award. Born in Virginia, he currently lives in London.

Patrick Ness has written about OCD and anxiety in at least two of his books, inspired by his own experiences with the two disorders and how it affects him (The Rest of Us Just Live Here & Release)

10. Every Heart A Doorway by Seanan McGuire

📷

Eleanor West’s Home for Wayward Children No Solicitations No Visitors No Quests Children have always disappeared under the right conditions; slipping through the shadows under a bed or at the back of a wardrobe, tumbling down rabbit holes and into old wells, and emerging somewhere... else. But magical lands have little need for used-up miracle children. Nancy tumbled once, but now she’s back. The things she’s experienced... they change a person. The children under Miss West’s care understand all too well. And each of them is seeking a way back to their own fantasy world. But Nancy’s arrival marks a change at the Home. There’s a darkness just around each corner, and when tragedy strikes, it’s up to Nancy and her new-found schoolmates to get to the heart of the matter. No matter the cost.

Seanan lives in an idiosyncratically designed labyrinth in the Pacific Northwest, which she shares with her cats, Alice and Thomas, a vast collection of creepy dolls and horror movies, and sufficient books to qualify her as a fire hazard. She has strongly held and oft-expressed beliefs about the origins of the Black Death, the X-Men, and the need for chainsaws in daily life.

Years of writing blurbs for convention program books have fixed Seanan in the habit of writing all her bios in the third person, to sound marginally less dorky. Stress is on the "marginally." It probably doesn't help that she has so many hobbies.

Seanan was the winner of the 2010 John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer, and her novel Feed (as Mira Grant) was named as one of Publishers Weekly's Best Books of 2010. In 2013 she became the first person ever to appear five times on the same Hugo Ballot.

Seanan McGuire has an invisible disability due to herniated disks in her spine. She is slowly coming to terms with this, and talks about it occasionally on her twitter, and about the struggles she faces.

I loved this book, and so did my best friend. We both read it in one sitting and talked nonstop about it afterwards. Although short, its filled with amazing characters, plot, and representation (asexual character!!)

11. Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan

Each year, eight beautiful girls are chosen as Paper Girls to serve the king. It's the highest honour they could hope for...and the most demeaning. This year, there's a ninth. And instead 📷of paper, she's made of fire. In this richly developed fantasy, Lei is a member of the Paper caste, the lowest and most persecuted class of people in Ikhara. She lives in a remote village with her father, where the decade-old trauma of watching her mother snatched by royal guards for an unknown fate still haunts her. Now, the guards are back and this time it's Lei they're after -- the girl with the golden eyes whose rumoured beauty has piqued the king's interest. Over weeks of training in the opulent but oppressive palace, Lei and eight other girls learns the skills and charm that befit a king's consort. There, she does the unthinkable -- she falls in love. Her forbidden romance becomes enmeshed with an explosive plot that threatens her world's entire way of life. Lei, still the wide-eyed country girl at heart, must decide how far she's willing to go for justice and revenge.

Natasha Ngan is a writer and yoga teacher. She grew up between Malaysia, where the Chinese side of her family is from, and the UK. This multicultural upbringing continues to influence her writing, and she is passionate about bringing diverse stories to teens. Ngan studied Geography at the University of Cambridge before working as a social media consultant and fashion blogger. She lives in France with her partner, where they recently moved from Paris to be closer to the sea. Her novel Girls of Paper and Fire was a New York Times bestseller. Natasha has a heart condition, and talks about her struggles with her health, and gives updates on her health and her books on twitter.

I’ve heard a lot about this book, but for trigger warning reasons it sadly isn’t on my to be read list. Everything I’ve heard about it says its an amazing book though, and the cover is beautiful.

12. Queens of Geek by Jen Wilde

📷

Three friends, two love stories, one convention: this fun, feminist love letter to geek culture is all about fandom, friendship, and finding the courage to be yourself. Charlie likes to stand out. She’s a vlogger and actress promoting her first movie at SupaCon, and this is her chance to show fans she’s over her public breakup with co-star Reese Ryan. When internet-famous cool-girl actress Alyssa Huntington arrives as a surprise guest, it seems Charlie’s long-time crush on her isn’t as one-sided as she thought. Taylor likes to blend in. Her brain is wired differently, making her fear change. And there’s one thing in her life she knows will never change: her friendship with her best guy friend Jamie—no matter how much she may secretly want it to. But when she hears about a fan contest for her favourite fandom, she starts to rethink her rules on playing it safe.

Jen Wilde is the YA author of QUEENS OF GEEK, THE BRIGHTSIDERS and GOING OFF SCRIPT. She writes unapologetically queer stories about geeks, rockstars, and fangirls who smash the patriarchy in their own unique ways. Her books have been praised in Teen Vogue, Buzzfeed, Autostraddle, Vulture and Bustle. Originally from Australia, Jen now lives in NYC where she spends her time writing, drinking too much coffee and binging reality TV.

Researching for this collab was the first time this book popped up on my radar as something I might be interested in reading. Jen Wilde, the author, is herself autistic and suffers from anxiety, which gives the narrative “authenticity that is lacking in similar books” according to socialjusticebooks.org.

13. The Upside of Unrequited by Becky Albertalli

📷

Seventeen-year-old Molly Peskin-Suso knows all about unrequited love—she’s lived through it twenty-six times. She crushes hard and crushes often, but always in secret. Because no matter how many times her twin sister, Cassie, tells her to woman up, Molly can’t stomach the idea of rejection. So, she’s careful. Fat girls always have to be careful. Then a cute new girl enters Cassie’s orbit, and for the first time ever, Molly’s cynical twin is a lovesick mess. Meanwhile, Molly’s totally not dying of loneliness—except for the part where she is. Luckily, Cassie’s new girlfriend comes with a cute hipster-boy sidekick. Will is funny and flirtatious and just might be perfect crush material. Maybe more than crush material. And if Molly can win him over, she’ll get her first kiss and she’ll get her twin back. There’s only one problem: Molly’s co-worker Reid. He’s an awkward Tolkien superfan with a season pass to the Ren Faire, and there’s absolutely no way Molly could fall for him. Right?

Becky Albertalli is the author of the acclaimed novels Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda (film: Love, Simon), The Upside of Unrequited, and Leah on the Offbeat. She is also the co-author of What If It's Us with Adam Silvera. A former clinical psychologist who specialized in working with children and teens, Becky lives with her family in Atlanta.

Becky Albertalli has generalised anxiety disorder (GAD), and has spoken about it in several interviews, which you can find online. She has also written several characters in her books who also suffer with anxiety. Her first book, Simon vs the Homosapien’s Agenda (or Love, Simon), is the only book of hers that I have read so far, and I loved it. It was the first contemporary book that I read and actually enjoyed.

14. Carve the Mark by Veronica Roth

📷

Cyra is the sister of the brutal tyrant who rules the Shotet people. Cyra’s current gift gives her pain and power—something her brother exploits, using her to torture his enemies. But Cyra is much more than just a blade in her brother’s hand: she is resilient, quick on her feet, and smarter than he knows. Akos is the son of a farmer and an oracle from the frozen nation-planet of Thuvhe. Protected by his unusual currentgift, Akos is generous in spirit, and his loyalty to his family is limitless. Once Akos and his brother are captured by enemy Shotet soldiers, Akos is desperate to get his brother out alive—no matter what the cost. Then Akos is thrust into Cyra's world, and the enmity between their countries and families seems insurmountable. Will they help each other to survive, or will they destroy one another?

Veronica Roth is the #1 New York Times best-selling author of the Divergent series (Divergent, Insurgent, Allegiant, and Four: A Divergent Collection), the Carve the Mark duology (Carve the Mark, the Fates Divide), The End and Other Beginnings collection of short fiction, and many short stories and essays. Her first book for adult audiences, Chosen Ones, is out now. She lives in Chicago.

Veronica Roth suffers from anxiety, like a lot of the authors on this list, and talks about it in interviews. A quote from one: "I've had an anxiety disorder my whole life, so I've been to therapy on and off throughout, before books and after books. I went back and tried to talk through some of the things I was feeling and experiencing, and it was helpful."

I’ve never read any of her books, not even the hugely famous Divergent trilogy, though they’ve been on my radar for years. I’d love to get into her books at some point, but it might take me a few years.

15. How to be Autistic by Charlotte Amelia Poe

📷An urgent, funny, shocking, and impassioned memoir by the winner of the Spectrum Art Prize 2018, How To Be Autistic by Charlotte Amelia Poe presents the rarely shown point of view of someone living with autism. Poe’s voice is confident, moving and often funny, as they reveal to us a very personal account of autism, mental illness, gender and sexual identity. As we follow Charlotte’s journey through school and college, we become as awestruck by their extraordinary passion for life as by the enormous privations that they must undergo to live it. From food and fandom to body modification and comic conventions, Charlotte’s experiences through the torments of schooldays and young adulthood leave us with a riot of conflicting emotions: horror, empathy, despair, laugh-out-loud amusement and, most of all, respect. For Charlotte, autism is a fundamental aspect of their identity and art. They address the reader in a voice that is direct, sharply clever and ironic. They witness their own behaviour with a wry humour as they sympathise with those who care for them, yet all the while challenging the neurotypical narratives of autism as something to be ‘fixed’. This is an exuberant, inspiring, life-changing insight into autism from a viewpoint almost entirely missing from public discussion. ‘I wanted to show the side of autism that you don’t find in books and on Facebook. My story is about survival, fear and, finally, hope. There will be parts that make you want to cover your eyes, but I beg you to read on, because if I can change just one person’s perceptions, if I can help one person with autism feel like they’re less alone, then this will all be worth it.’ Charlotte Amelia Poe is a self-taught artist and writer living in Lowestoft, Suffolk. They also work with video and won the inaugural Spectrum Art Prize with the film they submitted, 'How to Be Autistic’. Myriad published Charlotte's memoir, How to Be Autistic, in September 2019.

Another book I didn’t know about until researching for this post, but I really want to read it because I haven’t read many books about autism, and practically none of them were actually written by someone who actually is autistic. Charlotte uses they/them pronouns.

16. Ask me about my Uterus by Abby Norman

📷

For any woman who has experienced illness, chronic pain, or endometriosis comes an inspiring memoir advocating for recognition of women's health issues In the fall of 2010, Abby Norman's strong dancer's body dropped forty pounds and grey hairs began to sprout from her temples. She was repeatedly hospitalized in excruciating pain, but the doctors insisted it was a urinary tract infection and sent her home with antibiotics. Unable to get out of bed, much less attend class, Norman dropped out of college and embarked on what would become a years-long journey to discover what was wrong with her. It wasn't until she took matters into her own hands--securing a job in a hospital and educating herself over lunchtime reading in the medical library--that she found an accurate diagnosis of endometriosis. In Ask Me About My Uterus, Norman describes what it was like to have her pain dismissed, to be told it was all in her head, only to be taken seriously when she was accompanied by a boyfriend who confirmed that her sexual performance was, indeed, compromised. Putting her own trials into a broader historical, sociocultural, and political context, Norman shows that women's bodies have long been the battleground of a never-ending war for power, control, medical knowledge, and truth. It's time to refute the belief that being a woman is a pre-existing condition.

Abby Norman’s debut book, ASK ME ABOUT MY UTERUS: A Quest to Make Doctors Believe in Women’s Pain, was published by Bold Type Books (Hachette Book Group) in 2018, with advance praise from Gillian Anderson, Lindsey Fitzharris, Jenny Lawson, and Padma Lakshmi.

The book was praised by The New York Times Book Review, The Wall Street Journal, New York Magazine, The Washington Post, The Sunday Times, The Irish Times, Literary Review, The Times Literary Supplement, The New Republic, Book Riot, Toronto Star, ELLE, Health Magazine, Undark Magazine, BUST Magazine, Bitch Magazine, Ms. Magazine, BBC Radio 5, and other international media outlets.

In 2019, the paperback edition was published in the U.S. and the Korean translation in Seoul (Momento Publishing/Duran Kim Agency).

Her work has been featured in Harper’s, Medium, The Independent, Literary Hub, The Rumpus, Mental Floss, Atlas Obscura, and elsewhere. Interviews and profiles have been seen and heard, including NPR/WNYC, BBC, Anchor.fm, The New York Times, Playboy, Forbes, Glamour, Women’s Health, and Bitch Magazine.

Abby Norman suffers from endometriosis, which was a large part of why she wrote her book, and why she advocates so hard for fellow patients at conferences such as Stanford University’s Stanford Medicine X and the Endometriosis Foundation of America’s medical conference and Patient Day. She is

Abby has served on technical expert panels including the National Partnership for Women and Families’ CORE Network (Yale University), the American Congress of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG), the Centres for Medicare and Medicaid, The Society for Women’s Health Research (SWHR), and Health Affairs.

In 2019, Abby contributed to a paper addressing research gaps and unmet needs in endometriosis published in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology.

This book is definitely one I will be adding to my to be read list, as someone who (unfortunately) also has a uterus, it is important to be informed. And Abby sounds like such a badass who wrote a whole book about her chronic illness to help others with the same condition.

17. Stim: Autistic Anthology by Lizzie Huxley-Jones

📷

Around one in one hundred people in the UK are autistic, yet there remains a fundamental misunderstanding of what autism is. It is rare that autistic people get to share their own experiences, show how creative and talented and passionate they are, how different they are from media stereotypes. This insightful and eye-opening collection of essays, fiction and visual art showcases the immense talents of some of the UK's most exciting writers and artists - who just happen to be on the spectrum. Here they reclaim the power to speak for themselves and redefine what it means to be autistic. Stim invites the reader into the lives, experiences, minds of the eighteen contributors, and asks them to recognise the hurdles of being autistic in a non-autistic world and to uncover the empathy and understanding necessary to continue to champion brilliant yet unheard voices.

Lizzie (Hux) Huxley-Jones is an autistic author and editor based in London. They are the editor of Stim, an anthology of autistic authors and artists, which was published by Unbound in April 2020 to coincide with World Autism Awareness Week. They are also the author of the children’s biography Sir David Attenborough: A Life Story. They can be found editing at independent micropublisher 3 of Cups Press, and they also advise writers as a freelance sensitivity reader and consultant. In their past career lives, they have been a research diver, a children’s bookseller and digital communications specialist.

I wasn’t even aware that there was an anthology out there by an autistic author, about autism, but now that I do I need to read it.

18. Chimera by Jaecyn Bonê

📷

Creatures unlike you've imagined before! Welcome to a world where myths and legends collide to create a new breed of monster. Savage and soulful, these monstrosities combine to form the mighty Chimera. In this anthology, talented writers weave 10 tales of fantastical beasts. Featuring stories by: Matt Bliss Jaecyn Boné Alexis L. Carroll Chris Durston Dewi Hargreaves Stephen Howard Samuel Logan Vincent Metzo Braden Rohl Michelle Tang

Jaecyn is a queer, non-binary, disabled Asian-American writer and digital artist fascinated by faeries.

Most of their writing involves wlw romance and faery-inspired creatures. Their first novel, Farzana's Spite is a 10-year-old work in progress and the first novel in The Faerth series. Other works include The Killing Song (novel) and Colour Unknown (short), both of which are also part of the Faerth universe.

Jaecyn's art can be described as a neorealistic pop art style with cel shading. They began their digital art journey with a 5-year-old refurbished iPad using their finger as a stylus and immediately fell in love. They do digital download commissions as well as sell prints of their artwork.

Jaecyn is the Co-Editor in Chief of the Limeoncello Magazine, an online Own Voices literary magazine which debuted its first issue on March 21st, 2021.

When not writing, drawing, or chasing after their two children, they can be found either gardening or practicing their ukulele.

None of Jaecyn Boné’s books are published yet as they are still in the stage of querying, but they contributed to the above anthology, along with nine other authors. I had no idea that this anthology existed, and now I’ll be closely following this author to see when their books get published!

19. Forest of Souls by Lori M Lee

Sirscha Ashwyn comes from nothing, but she’s intent on becoming something. After years of training to become the queen’s next royal spy, her plans are derailed when shamans attack 📷and kill her best friend Saengo. And then Sirscha, somehow, restores Saengo to life. Unveiled as the first soul guide in living memory, Sirscha is summoned to the domain of the Spider King. For centuries, he has used his influence over the Dead Wood—an ancient forest possessed by souls—to enforce peace between the kingdoms. Now, with the trees growing wild and untamed, only a soul guide can restrain them. As war looms, Sirscha must master her newly awakened abilities before the trees shatter the brittle peace, or worse, claim Saengo, the friend she would die for.

Lori M. Lee is the author of speculative novels and short stories. Her books include PAHUA AND THE SOUL STEALER (Disney/Rick Riordan Presents), FOREST OF SOULS and the sequel BROKEN WEB (Page Street), and more. She’s also a contributor to the anthologies A THOUSAND BEGINNINGS AND ENDINGS and COLOR OUTSIDE THE LINES. She considers herself a unicorn fan, enjoys marathoning TV shows, and loves to write about magic, manipulation, and family.

Lori struggles with anxiety, and the common symptoms like fatigue but she doesn’t let this stop her writing amazing books. I read Forest of Souls earlier this year, and it was seriously one of the best books I’ve ever read. I loved the magic, the characters, the world building. Everything about it, including the plot twist ending that had me losing my mind at 2am, was just so unlike anything I had read in any other fantasy before.

20. A Song of Wraiths and Ruin by Roseanne A Brown

📷

For Malik, the Solstasia festival is a chance to escape his war-stricken home and start a new life with his sisters in the prosperous desert city of Ziran. But when a vengeful spirit abducts Malik’s younger sister, Nadia, as payment into the city, Malik strikes a fatal deal—kill Karina, Crown Princess of Ziran, for Nadia’s freedom. But Karina has deadly aspirations of her own. Her mother, the Sultana, has been assassinated; her court threatens mutiny; and Solstasia looms like a knife over her neck. Grief-stricken, Karina decides to resurrect her mother through ancient magic . . . requiring the beating heart of a king. And she knows just how to obtain one: by offering her hand in marriage to the victor of the Solstasia competition. When Malik rigs his way into the contest, they are set on a course to destroy each other. But as attraction flares between them and ancient evils stir, will they be able to see their tasks to the death?

Roseanne “Rosie” A. Brown was born in Kumasi, Ghana and immigrated to the wild jungles of central Maryland as a child. Writing was her first love, and she knew from a young age that she wanted to use the power of writing—creative and otherwise—to connect the different cultures she called home. She graduated from the University of Maryland with a Bachelor’s in Journalism and was also a teaching assistant for the school’s Jiménez-Porter Writers’ House program. Her journalistic work has been featured by Voice of America among other outlets.

On the publishing side of things, she has worked as an editorial intern at Entangled Publishing. Rosie was a 2017 Pitch Wars mentee and 2018 Pitch Wars mentor. Rosie currently lives outside Washington D.C., where in her free time she can usually be found wandering the woods, making memes, or thinking about Star Wars.

Roseanne is another author that struggles with anxiety and wrote one of her two main characters with generalised anxiety disorder (GAD), despite it being a fantasy. I don’t even think I can name a fantasy that had a character with anxiety represented so well. This was a book I read around the same time as Forest of Souls, and I loved it. The cover was beautiful, the characters were brilliant, and I just loved the world building, the magic, and the plot. It was just different to the usual fantasy books I read, and I enjoyed the variation so much I’ve had the sequel pre ordered almost a year in advance.

So, this was my 20 books by 20 chronically ill, disabled or neurodiverse authors list. Blurbs and synopsis were compiled between Goodreads and author websites, and bios were found either on Goodreads, author websites or on amazon author pages. All the information about their chronic illnesses, disabilities or neurodivergence was found online, where they had either explicitly said it or written about it, but if I have something wrong, please let me know so I can fix it!

If you have any other suggestions or know any other books and authors that should be on this list, please let me know and I’ll do my best to add it to the list as soon as possible.

Thanks for reading 😊

#bookblr #reviews #recs #books

2 notes · View notes

kaoru-takaida · 3 years

Text

MHA Collab Fanfic

CHAPTER 1. U.A.

What does it take to be a Hero? What does a hero mean to you? And if everyone around us are heroes, what makes them so special anymore?

In a world where 80% of the population have some kind of special ability called Quirks, life has become a superhuman society. Heroes exist to keep villains in check. And to create top class Heroes is the prestigious U.A. high. Where our story begins…

Just before our summer vacation started, the students of class 1A and 1B took their midterms. The Hero course was slated to spend vacation at a training camp, run by the Wild Wild Pussycats. But after the incident at the Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall with Shigaraki Tomura, something even weirder happened.

Class 1A is where our story starts. But first, the totally expositional Roll Call of Class 1A...

Yuga Aoyama: Can't Stop Twinkling

Quirk: Naval Laser

Mina Ashido: Pinky

Quirk: Acid

Tsuyu Asui: Froppy

Quirk: Frog

Tenya Iida: Ingenium

Quirk: Engine

Ochaco Uraraka: Uravity

Quirk: Zero Gravity

Mashirao Ojiro: Tailman

Quirk: Tail

Denki Kaminari: Chargebolt

Quirk: Electrification

Eijiro Kirishima: Red Riot

Quirk: Hardening

Koji Koda: Anima

Quirk: Anivoice

Rikido Sato: Sugarman

Quirk: Sugar Rush

Mezo Shoji: Tentacole

Quirk: Dupliarms

Kyoka Jiro: Earphone Jack

Quirk: Earphone Jack

Hanta Sero: Cellophane

Quirk: Tape

Fumikage Tokoyami: Tsukuyomi

Quirk: Dark Shadow

Shoto Todoroki: Shoto

Quirk: Half-Cold, Half-Hot

Toru Hagakure: Invisible Girl

Quirk Invisibility

Katsuki Bakugou: (Hero name still "undecided")

Quirk: Explosion

Izuku Midoriya: Deku

Quirk: Super Power

Minoru Mineta: Grape Juice

Quirk: Pop-Off

Momo Yaoyorozu: Creati

Quirk: Creation

Midoriya blinks once, with surprise on his face. "A new student? Before Summer break?" Iida nods.

"Yes. That is what I had heard." He replies. "Apparently they got in via recommendation." Iida puts out a straightened hand of reasoning. "They passed a special test and mock battle to gauge their ability. Supposedly their skills are on par with that of our very own Todoroki."

Todoroki's eyebrows raise slightly. "Are they a transfer student?"

Iida shrugs. "I haven't been told much to be honest. Probably because introductions will be made." Iida looks at the clock on the wall. He turns. "All right, class. Time to get seated before the bell rings." He begins to direct. He walks away, making Midoriya smile. Todoroki walks away to get seated. Midoriya puts a hand to his chin.

"I wonder who the new student is." He wonders.

"Hopefully some hottie." Mineta comments. "But it is strange for us to get a new student right before camp."

Is the need for more heroes arising? Midoriya thinks to himself. The bell rings and everyone is seated in their seats.

The door opens and Aizawa is there. Mr. Aizawa saunters in like he usually does. "Everyone better be seated." He says, without looking. An awkward silence wades through as all the students are already seated. He sighs and drops his folder to the podium in front of the class. "I know that Summer is almost here, but it seems we have an unexpected transfer student." He turns as all the students exchange glances. Some excited, some confused. "Come on in." He says. Someone enters through the doorway, sliding the door gently shut behind them.

The first things anyone will notice are the brown fox ears and fox tail. As the person walks to the front of the class, it's also seen that they have fox paws where human feet should be, and pink red tipped horns on the top of their head. Mineta gasps in bliss. "Jackpot! We have a fox girl!!!!"

It was a girl, with a wavy brown bob and bright red eyes, and one mole on each cheek.

They give an awkward and polite bow. They straighten up. "You forgot to introduce yourself." Aizawa tells them.

"Ah!" They begin nervously. "Um...I'm from America. My name is Kaoru Takaida." They say. They bow again, clearly embarrassed. "My pronouns are they and them. But in a hurry female forms are okay. I can't wait to get to know y'all…" They stop as an awkward silence sweeps through again. They clear their throat. "You all." They correct, a bit more politely. They grimace and fidget with their sleeves. The silence is rudely broken by a little Grape haired boy behind Deku.

"What's with the pronoun mumbo jumbo?" Mineta asks. "You're a girl, right? I mean you have boobs."

Takaida blushes and looks almost offended. Yaoyorozu smacks the back of Mineta's head with her folder. "Mineta! That's just mean!" She snaps. Yaoyorozu looks up at them. "I apologize for his stupidity."

Takaida shakes their head. "N-No. It's fine." Kaoru looks at Mineta. "In America, gender is a bit more…" They consider the word. "'Flexible'?" Takaida looks at Aizawa to see if the word was correct. He nods once and they give a nervous smile. "Because of this, I don't really have a preferred gender." Takaida places a hand on their chest. "If it's not too much trouble, please refer to me with 'they, them, and their' forms?" Mineta sighs and headbutts his desk.

Aizawa turns to the class now. "Please be kind to them. Since Takaida got here just in time, they will be attending the Summer camp with the rest of you." He looks at Takaida. "Until we can get you a desk, please pull up a chair and study with Bakugou. He'll also be responsible for showing you around campus. Think of him as your guide to U.A." The class grows silent again for a moment.

Bakugou, seated in front of Midoriya, jolts up, slamming his hands on the desk, little explosions from his Quirk triggering. "HANH?! WHY ME?!" He shouts, making Takaida's ears flinch back at the sudden loudness.

Aizawa's eyes narrow at the explosive student. "Because you have good grades." He points to Bakugou." And maybe, just maybe, a little responsibility on your end will teach you to be more patient." Bakugou chokes, growling a throaty growl under his breath. But he reluctantly sits back down, sliding into his seat a little with his arms crossed, sulking. Aizawa turns to them. "Go ahead and take your seat."

Takaida picks up their books, notebook, and pencil case. They stride over to Bakugou's desk. Midoriya meets eyes with them. And for an instance, something clicked. Midoriya could feel a strange connection when their eyes met. Huh? Midoriya wonders to himself. This strange familiar feeling… What is this?

Takaida keeps a curious, yet cautious expression on their face. They give him a slight bow. He stands up. "H-Hi. My name is Izuku Midoriya." He tells them. He puts out a hand and smiles. "Welcome to our class."

They look at his hand, and smile. "Nice to meet you." They say, taking his hand and shaking it. Takaida sits down.

"I feel like Takaida is a mouthful." Ashido says aloud. "I know! Let's call them 'RuRu'!" Takaida blushes at the nickname. Ashido begins to chant it over and over.

"Um, just call me Kaoru if it's too long." They say, almost sweating at the embarrassment, waving their hands at Ashido.

"Aw, but RuRu is cuter!"

Midoriya laughs at the scene.

"So tell me!" Hagakure says, jumping up and down. "What's your Quirk?" Kaoru's ears perk up at Hagakure. "I bet it's a cool one!" Study period was about to begin, and the students were waiting for the next teacher to arrive.

Kaoru smiles. "I'll admit it's a pretty cool one. But I was told not to show it off till PE this afternoon." Hagakure slumps over clinging to Kaoru's uniform shirt.

"Aaaaaw." She whines. "That's not fair. I'm guessing you already know all of ours by now."

Kaoru nods. "I watched all of you during the Sports Festival." This makes Bakugou look over, catching his attention partially, closing his notebook. "I was still in America but my uncle let me watch because I was thinking of going to U.A. My uncle graduated from U.A. too, so he was more than happy to watch it with me." They look at Midoriya. "You were super cool in your match against Todoroki, Midoriya." Kaoru tells him. He laughs nervously. "And all of you did so great. You guys are all so strong." Everyone in the class exchanged smiles and proud grins. Kaoru then turns to Bakugou. "But Bakugou, you were by far my favorite!" Bakugou chokes looking at how Kaoru's eyes light up at him. "Your Quirk is so strong! You were so cool! And the way you were able to dominate the battlefield! It was like I was watching All Might in action! With how he grabs the attention of anyone who watches!"

The class goes awkwardly silent at this. Bakugou only stares at the fox girl, unsure how to respond, a wide eyed almost blushing look on his face. "They did say Bakugou, right?" Sero asks.

Bakugou scoffs, glaring at Sero. "Shut up!" He snaps. He closes his eyes, looking down at his desk. "At least somebody knows how strong I am." Midoriya can't help but smile.

They're going to get along just fine, I think. Midoriya thinks to himself. I have a feeling Kaoru knows Kacchan already and will be a good friend to him.

Lunch rolls around, and Kaoru looks over to Bakugou. They fidget with their hair. "So, um, Bakugou?"

"Huh?"

"Can we have lunch together?" Kaoru asks. Midoriya overhears this as he waits in his seat for Todoroki and Iida. "I'm still not confident enough to ask anyone else. And you see…" Kaoru frowns. "I'm horrible with directions and forgot where the cafeteria is…"

Midoriya smiles at Bakugou. "Come on, Kacchan. They wanna have lunch with you."

Bakugou glares daggers at him. "Shut your face, Deku!"

Kaoru's head tilts to the side. "'Ka… -cchan'? 'Deku'?" They question.

Midoriya laughs. "Oh, they're nicknames from our childhood." He rubs the back of his neck. "We used to call him that because the 'Katsu-' in his name stands for 'Victory'. So as kids we shortened it to 'Kacchan'."

Kaoru gasps, smiling. "That's so cute! I love those!" Kaoru puts both hands on the desk, looking at Bakugou. "I'm gonna call you Kacchan, too!"

Bakugou scowls. "Don't you dare! I'll kill you!"

Kaoru looks at Midoriya. "Can I call you Deku, too?" Midoriya smiles.

"Sure."

Kaoru turns. "Okay! Let's go to the cafeteria, Kacchan!" Bakugou stands up, following them, hands in his pockets with a salty expression on his face.

"Don't tell me what to do!" He shouts. "And stop calling me that!" Midoriya can't help but to smile even more. It seems I was right. One more friend for Kacchan.

The young heroes all gather at Training Ground Beta, adorned in their Hero costumes. "Soooo, like, we leave for Summer camp the day after tomorrow. So why are we here at the training ground?" Mina asks.

Aizawa turns to look at the class. "For today, we have a bit of a special case." He motions to the entrance of the training ground. Kaoru walks up, in their PE clothes. "Their Hero costume is still being made with improvements they'd requested from their prototype. So for now, they'll use their PE clothes. In order to get a feel of how the physical training in class is, Takaida has been challenged with a few sparring matches in mind." Everyone's eyes light up. Kaoru smiles now, stretching their arms.

"You mean, we get to fight them?" Kirishima asks, sounding a little excited.

Aizawa nods. "However to keep them from getting too hurt the sparring will end once I deem someone has lost the fight." He faces Bakugou and Midoriya. An icy glare is flung their way. "I will stop the match as soon as things get out of hand."

Why is he looking at us like that?! Midoriya thinks in a panic.

"So?" Kaoru begins. "Who's first?" They ball up a fist and clap it into their other hand. "Trust me, you'll want to see this." They say, smiling a smile not unlike the one people usually see Bakugou wearing.

One of confidence. And an almost insatiable hunger for victory. It was almost like they were another person. Aizawa turns back to the class now. "So who would like to go first?"

Kirishima's hand shoots up almost instantly. "Give me a shot, Mr. Aizawa." Aizawa glances at him.

"Very well." He says. Kirishima fist pumps. "The first match will be Kirishima." He puts his hands up, signaling the class to back away. "Now let's give them a bit of space."

Kirishima stretches now too. Kaoru does a little hop, seeming to warm up. "Let's have a good match." Kirishima says, a bright smile on his face, showing off his pointed teeth.

"No hard feelings to whoever wins right?" Kaoru asks, smirking. Kirishima crosses his arms.

"You seem confident." He says. "That might cost ya if you're not careful enough."

Aizawa lifts a hand. "Ready?" They both nod. He drops his hand. "Begin!"

The instant he says this, Kaoru darts forward with impeccable speed. It surprises half the class. Kirishima quickly hardens his skin all over his body. Kaoru changes direction at the last second and bounces up onto the wall of the building they're next to. They then bounce from the ground, to the wall of the other building next to them. Pretty soon, the fox girl is simply jumping up and down off of the walls and ground at random and with uncanny speed.

Kaoru's almost as fast as Gran Torino! Is that their Quirk? A speed type like him and Iida? Midoriya wonders.

Kirishima scowls. I can barely see where they're going. Let alone predict where they'll end up. Kaoru then, for an extra measure, bounces from one of the walls, then bounces off of Kirishima's hardened back. He exclaims in frustration, hardening his back into more of a spiked layer.

It's certainly a good Quirk. But up against Kirishima, they'll lose if he can get in one big decisive blow. Midoriya thinks. He looks at Kirishima.

He seems to be trying to track the fox girl's movements. As soon as they get close, I can jab them. Then without warning, Kaoru bolts right at Kirishima, a fist pulled back ready to punch. They're attacking?! Kirishima raises his hardened arms to block. A smile creeps onto their face.

"STOP!" Aizawa shouts. Kaoru skids a bit, stopping in their tracks.

"HUH?!" The class shouts in unison. Kirishima drops his arms as the two of them look at the teacher. "Mr. Aizawa, why'd you stop the match?" Kirishima asks, almost sounding annoyed.

Bakugou scoffs now, crossing his arms. "Are you blind, or just dumb? Didn't you notice?"

The class gives Bakugou a surprised look. Aizawa looks at Kaoru and points. "That punch you were about to use." He points at the building almost a block away. "Use it on that building." Kaoru nods. They sprint over to it, fist pulled back again.

"Haaaaah!" They snap their fist forward and as soon as their fist is about to meet the concrete, an explosion of fire bursts from their fist. The building wall explodes, concrete and debris taking the open air. The impact is enough to make a popping boom, startling everyone in the class. Kirishima chokes in surprise. They turn around to smile at the class, debris and pieces of building falling behind them.

As it is revealed a huge crater is now where the wall of the building once was, bits of fire lingering there. "Unfortunately, the blast would have been the same magnitude as the one that knocked you out in your match against Bakugou during the Sports Festival, Kirishima." Aizawa says. "So I'm sorry, but I had to stop them." The rest of the class is in awe. Jaws dropped. Bakugou scowls, growling a bit.

That damned Quirk… He thinks to himself. "Hey, Teach." He cracks his knuckles. "I want a shot at this idiot myself." Bakugou says.

Midoriya looks over at him. Kacchan… He looks at Kaoru. At first, the way they moved so fast, I could have sworn that would have been their Quirk. Did Kacchan notice something we all missed? Midoriya glances at the building. And speaking of Kacchan… that explosion just now looked super similar to his as well. Do they have the power to make explosions like Kacchan does? Midoriya raises his hand. "Mr. Aizawa, can I fight Kaoru with Kacchan?"

"HUNH?!" Bakugou snaps. "As if you, damn nerd!"

Kaoru fist pumps. "Yes!!! Can we?" They ask, bouncing up and down in excitement. "Please?"

"What the hell? You're on board with it too? You idiot!" Bakugou argues.

They nod eagerly. "Mmhmm!" They say, eyes lit.

Aizawa sighs. "Of course it's you two." Aizawa shrugs. "If Takaida is okay with two versus one, I'll allow it."

Bakugou scoffs, glaring at Midoriya. "Just stay outta my way, Deku." He growls. He slouches a bit into his fighting stance.

Midoriya nods and raises his fists up. His power begins to course through him. One for all, Full Cowling.

He looks at Kaoru.

"Let's have fun!" They say, getting into a sprinter's perch as Aizawa raises a hand.

"Begin!"

#mha oc #bnha oc #my hero academia oc #boku no hero acadamia oc #my hero Academia fanfiction #mha fanfiction #boku no hero academy fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #Kaoru Takaida #my mha oc #my bnha oc

3 notes · View notes