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cinnamonest · 3 years

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Y’all are too nice to me I swear… here I am being horny and nasty on main and I’m getting encouraged, damn. But for real ( ´ ω ` ) thank you so much!!

I’m gaining more confidence to post more smutty stuff and the kind of dark shit I like, so I might go back and make more nasty Childe content later on too… After Albedo, I got Razor and Zhongli coming up, and a few ones I just worked on for fun. But yeah, just in case it wasn’t clear for anyone who followed me, I’m going to be writing almost entirely dark content and some really nasty stuff, so just be aware of that, and don’t consume my writing if that’s something that may be harmful to you.

Albedo is so pretty… and such good dark content material… He treats you like a science experiment but has the audacity to make it hot smh

I haven’t seen a whole lot of him outside the cutscenes, so potentially ooc (as if yandere content isn’t already ooc, lmao)

Albedo - Yandere Profile

tw: general yandere content, obsessive behavior, stalking

tw (below cut): smut, noncon (seriously, you’ve been warned)

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Very much aware. In the beginning, it frustrates him. He’s never been particularly attached to anyone, outside of his former instructor. He’s always enjoyed being out on his own, spending extended amounts of time by himself – the desire to be around someone is a foreign feeling for him. He immediately notices how bizarre the emotion is for him, how it changes his behaviors. His self awareness combined with perceptiveness makes him able to acutely recognize not only how unusual this emotion is for him, but also how the extent of his feelings, the types of desires they ignite in him, is unusual even for “normal” people who aren’t social recluses.

He’s frustrated by his own actions, feels embarrassed at how attached he is to you, how easily you make him flustered and trip over his words. As he is a very aware yandere, he’s definitely afraid of rejection to some degree. He has no idea how to navigate feelings and interactions with other people, he’s never really had the desire to form a particularly strong bond with anyone before. As such, he’ll come across as very awkward, and he will interact with you less than most yanderes – he knows he’s just going to embarrass himself if he talks to you, right? He’ll just mess up and say something strange, so instead, he opts to watch you from the shadows, go to places where you are, but keep a distance from you, just being able to watch you makes him feel fluttery and overwhelmed.

He will definitely be one to collect things from you. He collects plenty of things for the sake of science, this is no different. Or so he tries to tell himself, but he can’t delude himself even if he tries. He knows its weird, he knows its wrong, but the overwhelming urge to have things of yours is too great to resist. He’ll start off with more innocent things, but it will gradually progress to not-so-innocent… items of yours.

It may not be obvious, but he’s actually a fairly sensitive person, at least regarding you. He places a lot of value in what you think of him, and wants to ensure you’ll respond positively to him. He views it like a science – there should be some formula by which he can put in the correct actions, and produce a specific result. Unfortunately, unlike real science, there’s not much room for trial and error – he feels he only has once chance.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

It will take some time, as he’s got to get over his own nerves first. He’s torn between the fear of you hating him for such a thing, it would be the end of the world for him, but also the desire to pull you away from the world, to keep you hidden from others, to have you all to himself, to be the only person that gets to look at you. If you start showing positive signs, reacting positively to his gifts, expressing interest in conversation with him and going out of your way to see him, he’ll start to get more confident, think that he can afford to do something that might sour your opinion of him, hoping it will merely be temporary.

He’ll probably start to do so several times and back out. He’ll set out at night, make it all the way to your room and stand over your sleeping form, and he’ll start to worry, wonder if someone saw him, see holes in his plans, he gets too nervous and bolts. He’ll persuade you into being alone with him, and although its the chance he’s looking for, again, he’ll get nervous, worry about being caught, run through all the what-ifs, and miss the chance. Honestly, when he does finally take you, it will probably be not planned, but in the heat of the moment, a rash decision from desperation. Something like you coming to visit him to tell him you’re leaving the area, came to say goodbye, and he’ll panic, ultimately grabbing you by the arm as you try to leave and dragging you back inside, silently, but forcefully.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Moderately difficult. Your best bet is to take advantage of his tendency to be absent minded when he’s absorbed in his work. He gets very lost in his thoughts, to a point where he’ll completely zone out and be oblivious to the world around him. On the downside, this means you won’t have much time to cover distance, he’ll be close behind the moment he realizes you’re gone.

The route he’ll probably take is actually one where you won’t need to be too restrained, because you’ll be taking… a little research trip. Out to the most freezing, desolate areas of the mountains. He’s convinced the knights he needs to stay there for his research, but in reality, he’s internally panicking, as he tries to figure out how to make this work – after all, you two can’t stay here forever. You’d be foolish to run out of the little cabin he’s bought, out into the perilous freezing cold and jagged, high slopes. At first, he thinks there’s no way you’d try it, so he’s content letting you have free reign to walk around as you please. If he has to leave for whatever reason, he’ll probably lock you into a single room, but he won’t chain you up, as again, he's really trying to avoid making you hate him.

If you prove to be determined to leave, he’ll be hurt, but mostly concerned for you. He’s actually not one to get too mad over an escape attempt – he’ll blame himself, or theorize it’s just a natural response your brain triggered. Against his first choice, he’ll end up having to get more strict with your restraints. If you get too whiny, though… you might trigger one of his more frustrated moments.

“I didn’t want to have to do this… I’m sorry. I can’t risk anything bad happening to you. Tell me if it’s too tight… I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t blame you. I know you’re probably panicking over all this, but you’ll get adjusted to it, I promise. Just… just give it some time… it’s not so bad, living with me, I promise.”

“Don’t be like that. You’re only tied up because you tried to leave. You should understand why you have to be kept like this… If you don’t want to be restrained, you shouldn’t have run out, trying to get yourself killed.”

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

For all his academic intelligence, he’s not highly skilled with people and socialization. He’s not too good at being able to tell when he’s being lied to, and he definitely won’t pick up on subtle manipulation. It’ll be pretty easy to wrap him around your finger, he’ll do what he can to make you happy.

Once he finds out you’ve lied to him, though, he’ll get pretty upset. He likely won’t trust you again, and will require proof of anything you say, or set out to find out if you’re telling him the truth or not.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He’ll try to accommodate you, giving you things you ask for, but he has limits. He’s too paranoid to let you have any contact with the outside world. You do have him wrapped around your finger to an extent, though. Whatever he’s doing at the moment, he’ll drop it in a heartbeat if you want to spend time with him in any way, even if its just you asking for food or to take a walk. He’ll be willing to take you for very short trips outside, no further than a few yards from the lodging, if only because he knows sunlight is vital to your health.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

The basics will be there – don’t try to leave, don’t be difficult with him, try to cooperate, be obedient. However, he’s also particularly overprotective of anything that can hurt you – even yourself. Under no circumstances can you handle anything that can hurt you – that means no cooking, no knives, no lifting anything heavy, no going outside without him. If you’re determined to cook something, he’ll have to stand right behind you, and watch while you do it. If you get so much as a little cut or burn, he’ll take over, insisting you go sit down after he tends to your “wounds.”

At the very beginning, he’ll be hesitant to punish you too much, as part of his plan to get you to like him. However, he can be a little easily frustrated, and your safety and well-being comes first, even if it means he has to make you upset. He will have to restrain you, take away what little privileges you had. If you try to bolt while you’re outside, no more going outside. If you try something foolish like attacking him with a knife when he gives you cooking privileges, you will lose said privileges. Really, the worst part of it all is the humiliation, being treated like a dumb, incapable baby that can’t do anything for yourself. He insists on doing everything for you, even down to bathing you and dressing you, even feeding you if you can’t convince him to take restraints off your hands. He’ll talk down to you in that way, too, talking to you as if you were a child.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

It’s a situation he’s not prepared to handle, and he’s unsure of what to do. It strikes fear in him that you might have someone else interested, so he has to get rid of them as quickly as possible. He’s not opposed to killing, if it comes down to that, but initially, he’ll try to work behind the scenes – expose something that will ruin their reputation, get them accused of a crime. This would also be one of the possible aforementioned situations that might cause him to kidnap you a bit earlier than he normally would, as well. If he can’t get rid of them easily, he’ll just take you away from them.

He will absolutely try to make you hate them, try to ruin your image of them, and he’s rather good at falsifying evidence for his claims of their behavior. With his alchemic skills, that sort of thing is easily possible.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

He gets more frustrated than anything, when you’re being difficult. This is mostly just him sighing quite a bit, speaking a bit harshly, even pouting and sulking a bit if you’ve offended him. But true anger in him is not pretty, and almost never happens. It’s a buildup, a slow rise that has a boiling point. If he reaches that point, he can definitely get mad enough to hurt you, it’s actually kind of terrifying in how sharp of a contrast it is to how he normally is. It’s a side of him that’s very difficult to draw out. He’s not one to yell or shout, no, his anger is a suffocating silence, he slams down whatever he’s holding as he stomps over to you, grabbing you by the arms hard enough to bruise, and dragging you by the hair to whatever he has planned.

With mild frustration outbursts, he will feel justified, but if it reaches that intense anger, he’ll usually give at least a little apology, tell you he didn’t mean to go that far. He hates to think of you fearing him, but ultimately, if that’s what’s necessary to keep you safe, then he can live with it.

Do they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

It’s an odd mix. On one hand, he sees you as utterly fascinating, the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, more than any landscape or art he’s seen or made, an invaluable treasure to be kept on a high pedestal. Simultaneously, however, he will treat you like a child, thinks you can’t do anything for yourself. It’s a bizarre duality, but one he is consistent on. You’re precious, so very precious, and he’s undeserving of you, but at the same time, you need him to be safe and sound.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Of the genshin boys, he’s one of the most determined. He’s not good with people, and he doesn’t really have anyone particularly close to him left anymore. He tends to keep people at a distance. You sort of fill an space inside him that he never knew was empty, a void he wasn’t aware he had until it was consumed by thoughts of you. He doesn’t need anyone or anything else, so long as he has you with him, but he really, really wants it to be true that you love him. He doesn’t need you to even love him as much as he loves you – he doesn’t even know if that’s possible – but he just wants to know that, even if only in the slightest, his feelings are returned. He’s so distant from everyone else, but you wormed your way into his heart, even if you didn’t intend to, with your smiles and softness and kindness towards him. For the first time, he feels weak around someone, but in a way, it’s a good feeling. He wants to be able to be vulnerable, be weak, and not have anything to fear by doing so.

He’s lucid, though, so he doesn’t expect you to love him immediately. As he’s not good with words or displays of affection, he’ll get you all sorts of gifts. Rare items that you wonder how the hell he obtained them, beautifully crafted little trinkets from all his searching and time traveling, more clothes than you could ever wear. You’ll start to feel a little guilty, it’s so much, and you’re certain he doesn’t have that much money. He’ll blow it off, say it’s no big deal, but if you insist, he’ll have to start finding new ways to convey his affection. In captivity, he won’t stop trying, but he’ll understand why you might be angry. In that case, he will utilize what he’s learned from research in books he’s read. He knows that eventually, with him being the only one you have, the only company, the only one to talk to, the only source of touch, you’ll eventually have to cave. You’ll become attached to him, bond with him, whether you like it or not. He knows how powerful the affect of touch can be, and will make sure to hold you in his arms, keep you on his lap, make you crave the only source of human touch you can get. Dependency, he thinks, is the gateway to you loving him.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Drawings. So many of them. Much like his drawings he uses in notes, he’s found he tends to start scribbling a familiar face when his mind drifts off. He’s memorized every little detail of your face, every curve on your body. If you’re ever snooping around, you’ll eventually uncover a book of sketches he has solely dedicated to drawings of you. Drawings of you laughing, smiling, sleeping, drawings that you’re certain were of real events you were at, that you didn’t remember him being at. Every bit in perfect detail. If you confront him about it, he’ll be horrifically embarrassed, insisting they’re no good, or, if you’re upset, trying to reassure you it was all from his mind and totally not him lurking in the shadows as he watches you.

Also, if you want to make him happy, get him on one of his spiels about his work, his interests, anything that he can catch onto and go on and on about. He’ll catch himself rambling and apologize for being “annoying,” but if you reassure him, and express interest, that will make him feel particularly appreciated. It would be a primary way to get on his good side and manipulate him, or lull him into false security to make your escape, if that’s what you’re looking to do. But be warned, it will only work once, and he’ll be far too hurt to let himself indulge in sharing these things with you again.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

Publicly, definitely highly reserved. He’s easily flustered, and thinks of sex in a very scientific way, for the purpose of procreation. For fun? He knows it’s enjoyable, but can’t separate it from his very analytic, scientific way of viewing things. It’s a formula, you touch this here and pull that there, and the result is supposed to be orgasmic bliss. He just isn’t very familiar with pleasure – he doesn’t drag out masturbation, even, as that would be a waste of time. He gets it over with quickly, taking short breaks during his work. He is a fairly high drive, though, and gets the urge fairly frequently, about once or twice a day.

He’ll be hornier with your presence, having to leave more frequently to get off to the little things you do, quickly getting himself off while recalling the mental image of you holding a pen in your mouth, the little moan when you stretch, the way your clothes fit to your frame.

Prior to abduction, he’s not particularly touchy at all, in fact, he’s very jumpy if you touch him. Once he’s gotten you alone with him for the foreseeable future, isolated, dependent, he’ll gain more confidence, be willing to give into his cravings to touch you, hold you, eventually progressing to groping you, moving his hands up and down your body, under your clothes, slowly peeling them off.

He’s initially a bit ashamed of his urges towards you, feels guilty every time he gets off to you, but will likewise gain more confidence once you're his.

A guy can only fight off the urge for so long before he cracks, before he can’t continue to care about the consequences. For him, that point is when he knows he finally has you all to himself – his worries fade, and while the guilt is still there, it’s far outweighed by desire.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He does care, but as stated previously, it’s hard to fight the urge for so long. It will be torture, but for the first few days, he wants you to “adjust” to your new “home,” and not add to your panic. After that, though, he’ll try to assess your reactions. If you’re extremely resistant, he’ll give you more “adjustment” time. He can’t really hold off forever, though, and eventually, maybe a few weeks in, comes to the conclusion that if he just does what he wants, so long as he’s gentle and reminds you he loves you, it will help you get past the mental barrier in your mind. He’s convinced there’s simply a psychological issue, and that sometimes, people need a push. It’s like having a friend who can’t swim – sometimes, you just have to throw them into the water, help them get over that mental hurdle, and they’ll be grateful in the end. That’s what he tells himself to justify it, anyway. He has enough… anatomical prerequisite knowledge to know what’s good and what’s bad, and will take your body’s positive reactions as a sign of what you really want. Is definitely the kind to use that against you, holding up his fingers to your face after you cum on them, as if to prove a point.

“See? I told you, you just have to let go and give in to what you want… if you didn’t, my fingers wouldn’t be dripping like this, now would they?”

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

He wants to experiment on you. This manifests as him being something of a service top without really intending to be, even if you’re not exactly happy about it. He likes to watch your reactions, watch the way your body moves, test the pleasure you get from different things, discover what it is that you like, even if you weren’t aware of it. In particular, he’s fascinated by the fact that girls have so many types of orgasms. He’ll want to try them all, watch and see which ones are more intense than others, which ones make you convulse, makes your toes curl, your eyes roll back. Which erogenous zones make your breath hitch, make you twitch and whimper. Probably the type to be determined that he can make you cum just from something like sucking on your nipples, and he won’t stop until he achieves it. He’ll also want to try everything. At least anything that he thinks has some potential to appeal to him, mentally. He’s a busy man and hasn’t really taken the time to explore his own sexuality, and has virtually zero experience.

Edging, overstimulation, forced orgasms

Experimentation also means testing limits and thresholds. He’ll bring you up to the edge, learn to watch for the slightest of signs that you’re close, listen to your breath, watch your face, wait until you’re just so close and then draw back, stopping just short of letting you catch that high. Then he’ll let you drift back down, and bring you back up again. No amount of begging will make him show you any mercy, you’ll only cum when he’s decided he’s observed enough. He wants to push the limit, see just how close to the edge of orgasm you can get without spilling over, just how much it takes to drive you insane. He’ll also want to see how far you can go after it as well. Orgasm won’t be the end of his ministrations, no, he wants to see how much stimulation you can take. You won’t be able to get away from his tongue, he’ll grab you by the hips and slam you back down, continuing to lap at you even if you’re so sensitive it’s painful. Watching you cum will just make him rut into you harder, bruising and abusing your insides to a point that they’re so sore you can feel it long after it’s over. At first, he might feel a little guilty, and may very well after it’s over, but in the heat of the moment, he can’t fight the insatiable urge to listen to you squeal, feel you convulse, watch the tears from overwhelming pleasure run down your face.

He’ll make it his personal mission to see how many orgasms the female body is capable of within a given amount of time - per day, per hour, how quickly you can have them in succession. For scientific purposes, of course. Anatomy and human biology isn’t really his main field of focus, but he likes to expand his research horizons.

“Just one more… cum one more time for me, then we’ll be done. Come on… I know you can, just one more.”

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He’s actually good with children, usually. He has a calming effect on kids. He isn’t sure how he feels, though. To some degree, he fears his capabilities to parent, thinks he would be too cold to be a good father. But he also likes the idea of a protege, an heir to his title, one he can teach everything he knows. If he does end up having one, this fucking nerd man will read every book on pregnancy, birthing, and parenting that he can get his hands on.

Also, he’ll absolutely be one to track your cycles, even better than you can. He’s researched enough to know exactly when you’re most or least likely to get pregnant, and you can’t help but notice how much more he seems to cum in you when you’re at your most fertile. Nor can he deny how satisfying it is to watch his cum slowly drip out of you, watching you twitch with aftershock and slowly drift off in exhaustion.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Unfortunately for you, since overstimulation and edging are already normal and everyday for you, he’ll have to amp it up a bit if he’s trying to make you regret something. He might get rougher, abusing more pleasure spots on your body, keeping his hands, mouth, and cock occupied all at once with driving you over the edge until it’s painful. But if you’re exceptionally misbehaved, you might not ever get a release to his edging, instead left to suffer from being so close, tied up so you can’t finish yourself off.

In moments when he’s really, truly angry, the peak of it, and that blends with arousal, he’ll really, really throatfuck you. Grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock down as deep as he can, holding you there as you gag and choke, feeling your throat convulse around him, desperately trying to pull back for air. The movements are harsh and brutal, pulling harshly on your hair, moving at a pace so fast you barely have a second to breathe. Thankfully, when it gets like that, he won’t last long, emptying out into your throat, holding your jaw shut and demanding you swallow. If any spills off on your chin, he’ll gather it up on his fingers, hold it to your face, and command you to open your mouth, suck it off, and swallow again. That’s at the peak of his anger, though, and you’ll have to substantially piss him off to reach that point. He’ll apologize later, holding you close, but his guilt doesn’t change the fact that it’s one of the most intense orgasms that he’ll have, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t sometimes think of doing it again, even without provocation. He’s restrained enough not to, but the thought is there… and deep down, he’ll entertain the idea.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

The curves of your body, no matter how defined or faint they are, no matter the general shape of your body, to him it’s the most beautiful thing. He’ll definitely want to draw you, even if you’re not too keen on posing. He’ll run his hands up and down your body, squeezing every little bit of flesh he can, moving his palms over every little curve, every inch of your skin.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere albedo x reader #tw: extreme content #tw: noncon #yandere albedo

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k3lynn · 3 years

Text

mine — katsuki bakugou

yandere! katsuki bakugou x reader

cw: yandere au, 3rd year bakugou, violence, reader got female genitalia, anger, off-“screen” murder, mention of (minor) character death, blood, lucidness, possessiveness, degradation, manipulation, stalking, threats, masturbation, implication of sex, swearing, assault, narcissism, horror, slightly delusional katsuki, panic attack, non con, mention of suicide

- I do not condone any of the behavior here, nor do I try to romanticize it. (definition: make it seem like a good thing) any future/current dark fics are purely for entertainment purposes. Also, I don’t think bakugou would EVER do this- I’m just using some dark traits he used to have and twisting them to fit this situation. Not completely proof read and edited, I am exhausted right now I’m sorry. I say some mean things about some characters but I don’t mean it 💗

words: 1.8k

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚈𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

Look at me.

WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT ME.

Poor little Y/N. You’ve caught the Big Bad Wolf’s attention. Ready to snatch you up and drag you into the deepest parts of the forest where no one will ever find you.

You’ll be all mine, and I’ll be the only thing you’ll ever have to see again.

You’ve been in the same class for 3 years now- and all he had to show for it is an occasional wave, and a shy little “Hi Bakugou” every morning that made his heart leap out of his chest.

Enough for most, but not for him.

In turn, he would tsk. Facing away and setting his head down on the desk- attempting to hide the roaring blush adorning his cheeks and the subtle shuffling in his pants- the way your voice alone could make his balls tighten in need.

Still- you give him merely a glance. He is always around you, but your attention is given to someone else.

Any extra would overlook his grumbling for typical-Katsuki doing his own thing. In reality, he’s holding himself back from snapping and taking you by force.

He wants you to come to him.

You have no reason not to. He’s perfect. Probably the best student to ever enter U.A. High, and on path to become the best pro hero to ever graduate from it.

Coming first in both the Entrance Exams AND the sports festival- a victory he still denies, holding some of the highest grades in class- 3rd only to some geek girl he could easily out-rank in combat and that shitty half n’ half. Even perceptiveness, intellect, and determination that can rival dumb Deku.

He even possesses great skills in cooking and music- Katsuki is a natural-born genius. Anybody who isn’t conscious towards his incredible talents might as well be living under a rock-

Unbeknownst to you, he’s giving you the generous chance to decide when you’ll be his. But his patience wears thinner every day.

It would have only taken a second to turn around in your seat and notice his piercing red eyes glaring at the back of your head.

So why don’t you notice me.

He doesn’t understand why it’s you he obsesses about. He can’t even remember when this whole mess started.

He tried denying his feelings. But quickly- they built up and festered inside him, begging to come out. Love, possessiveness, same thing.

Whether it be watching your twist and turn in the obstacle course- then running to the nearest bathroom to furiously grip his cock.

Snatching your chapstick when you’re not looking and rubbing it all around his own lips- imagining that’s what your lips would taste like if you just kissed him-

Restraining you during combat training by wrapping his arms around you- squeezing your breast a little more than necessary. Pinning you to the floor until you admit defeat.

Or even sneaking into your dorm while you’re in the shower to grab a new pair of panties from your dirty laundry, adding it to the stash he keeps hidden under his bed.

Stalking you. Keeping you close at all times without you even knowing it.

Indeed, he knows he’s a sick and twisted human being.

But by now he hardly cares- he’s worked too hard to ever even imagine of changing his perfect target. Nobody is more deserving of you than him.

So if he has to confront, threaten, and beat every single person in this stupid school to monopolize you for himself- he gladly will. Anyone who goes againts that is challenging him.

He scoffs anytime a boy approaches you- it’s well known around school that anyone who attempts to buddy up with you mysteriously ends up in a hospital room with no recollection of what happened. People even started seeing you as a sign of bad luck.

He’s nice enough to allow you some friends though. But only ones who will guarantee you’ll be around him as much as possible.

So you sit with him, Kirishima, racoon eyes, dunce face, and tape boy in lunch. No one else. Right in front of him.

You’re chatting away with Mina, but unusually, something special came up in conversation.

He always stays focused on his lunch- switching between listening in and day dreaming about bending you over the lunch table and grinding on your ass-

Katsuki’s stomach dropped. His eyes widened- what did Mina just say?

There’s a boy in the management department, a quirkless 2nd year nobody smart enough to somehow get into U.A.

And he asked you out on a date after school.

Shit.

No.

No no no no-

No- this isn’t how it’s supposed to-

My throat burns.

When did he- when did you-

You’re going to say no, right?

I cant breathe.

You don’t like anyone- I know this

I know everything about you- I-

My chest hurts-

You’re mine.

And if he thinks I’ll share then I’ll-

“Mina stop being so loud please...” your delicate little voice whispered.

The rest of the table already took notice of what was going on- bombarding you with questions that made you flustered.

“Woah woah- Y/n, what’s your answer?” dunce face peeps out, Bakugou swore he could smack that grin off his face right then and there.

Katsuki turns to look at you again- a chill traveling down his spine once he made eye contact, but your stare quickly fell to the floor.

“I’m not sure yet- probably not.. ha.” You shrugged- a light pink dusting over your cheeks. The others, satisfied, dismiss the topic.

Had it have been anybody else observing, they wouldn’t have thought much of it. But Katsuki knows you like the back of his hand. Successfully deceiving him would be harder than taking down All For One.

You’re lying... aren’t you? In front of him too- All because of this quirkless fucking loser-

Katsuki hates lies.

I’m going to kill him.

The walk back to your dorm was disappointing to say the least. But you can’t expect someone to be in the best of moods when they’ve been stood up.

You almost couldn’t believe it either- he had seemed so kind and genuine that you stood there for an extra 2 hours. But that’s your luck with boys-

‘I hope you got a good laugh out of it, jerk.’ You huffed before inserting the key into your rooms lock.

Turning on the lights, you allow your eyes to adjust for a moment before stepping inside and walking to your desk.

“You were waiting for that jackass for so long I almost started thinking you would never come back...”

You let out a startled cry before dropping your keys and whirling around in a flash- recognizing Katsuki’s back as he slowly closes the door.

“Bakugou? Why are you-“

“was he really that special.”

“What do you mean was....“ It’s then you noticed the blood dripping down his arms and hands- your door decorated with the same shade of crimson.

“oh my god.. Bakugou,”

That’s why the poor boy never showed up.

You knew about Katsuki’s “little” crush on you for a while now. His stares weren’t exactly the most subtle after all-

You found his uncertainty adorable, heck, a part of you was waiting for him to confess. But you would have never imagined his infatuation went this far.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll never love you as much as I do.”

He lifts his head, and your eyes meet his. Bloodshot- as if he’d been crying, but the evident smirk on his face showed nothing but pure malice.

“Not that he’ll ever get the chance to anyways”

He’s too fast, too close to the door, he has all the advantage in this situation. But you have to try. You have to leave this room at this very moment or you may never make it out alive. There’s no reasoning with him.

You clutch your heart. He steps forward, and you instinctively bolt to the door.

A few easy moves and he has you pinned by the neck on the ground, legs bent and used to hold your arms from jerking too much. His free hand is outstretched, creating small explosions that made you automatically stiffen your movement.

“Bakugou please- I won’t ever tell anyone, we can forget about this and I’ll pretend it neve-“

“I don’t need you to be quiet. I’m the boy who rejected a direct offer from the League of Villains, one of the best students in U.A. high- even if you do rat me out, they’ll never believe you...”

His grip on your neck tightened- nails cutting through skin and little droplets of blood start showing up. His hand starts heating up and a panic courses through your veins.

“I’ll kill you before they even begin to suspect me.”

Choked sobs escape your lips from the pain and fear surging through your body- “I- I thought you said you lo-loved me.”

“I do... that’s why you’ll be mine forever.”

He leaned down, low enough for you to feel his warm breath- then used his tongue to sadistically lick off the tears running down your cheek, a salty but satisfying flavor entering his mouth.

“In this life, and the next. It’s up to you when we see the later.”

You nod, hoping he relaxes the pressure on your neck. His face softens, something you swore you would never see in Bakugou. He releases his hold.

“You made me mess up your neck, next time don’t be so mean.”

He tilted your chin up, observing the scratches and bruises littered all around it. As soon as he determines there’s no serious injury, he picks you up to lay you on your bed. Climbing in next to you and wrapping an arm around your hips.

“Couples cuddle like this all the time don’t they.”

You gave him silence, although he didn’t mind. With one glare he had you shuffling to move closer to his chest.

“they also kiss.”

You know that right now, there’s no point in fighting. So you give in to what he wants in hopes that one day, you’ll break free from the hold he secretly had on you for so long. You’ll play along. You’ll survive.

You shudder as his hands reach to cradle your cheek, wiping the blood of the boy all over it. He loved it. It proved he won. He gave a light kiss to your lips before attacking your neck, set on putting a new type of bruise on you.

“You should start calling me Katsuki.”

“Ka- Katsuki.” You barely managed to whimper out.

He caresses your hair, cooing soft whispers into your ear in an attempt to calm your sniffling. An action you would have seen as sweet if it weren’t for the constant threat of death over your shoulder.

Your breath hitches in horror as you feel his warm hands trail down your body, gripping your smooth inner thigh before delicately starting to drag his fingers up.

“You know...

You silently beg for him to stop.

“There’s one more thing couples do.”

-if anyone is interested- should I make a part 2? (Future edit, I’m not satisfied with this, I might end up rewriting in the future)

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Note

Re; Ahsoka and Quinlan being the same age, now I'm picturing Ahsoka, Quinlan, and Rex eventually ending up in a weird sorta thruple where Quinlan comes in and out of the relationship but the door is kinda always open for him? And Rex spends a lot of mornings eyeing the tangle of orange and brown skin on the other side of the bed like he has no idea how he ended up here but he's (mostly) okay with that tbh

Context: Commander Buir in chronological order

YES okay so this is wild to me that people are invested in this but like half the time-travel fics with Ahsoka in the same age-group as Quinlan have me wondering if I should ship them. Let me just. Ho shit.

So, okay, I've explored a lot of possible dynamics but there's something really engaging about how Quinlan, trained as a Shadow before the Sith came back, could react to a War Padawan. Ahsoka isn't really infiltration material yet, she's very much a frontline fighter, but she's got a lot more experience with a kind of consistent dark atmosphere that most Jedi don't. They get exposed to plenty of dark stuff, sure, but not the kind of all-encompassing "this is my life for the last two years" thing that is usually reserved for the long-term field agents like Shadows and Watchmen.

The War Padawans, for all that they were supposed to be just normal Jedi Padawans, were living in the kind of consistently negative environment that's normally experienced by those Knighted Sentinels.

So Ahsoka, while still generally pretty young in these AUs, is a very odd kind of person to be around, because she's spunky and vivacious and snippy and affectionate and snarky and knows how to break every bone in your body from harrowing experience as the only thing standing between death and thousands of brothers.

And Quinlan, I imagine, really likes that about her. She gets it, and she's still an energetic and loving and trying to do her best to be a good person despite everything. He gravitates towards her and she... well, she's not blind. She can tell he's interested. And she's not upset about that.

ANYWAY, ONTO REX

So, Rex is... technically twelve. He hasn't exactly got a whole lot of experience with romance. He is also, up until the point of time-travel, legal property of the Senate and the Jedi Order, which means that Ahsoka, or at least her community, owns him. He was indoctrinated to serve her and that community. She also outranks him, for all that she usually lets him take the lead in the field due to experience. He's older than her physically and maturity-wise, but she's also had a grow-up-faster-than-you-should adolescence, and she has superpowers.

What I'm saying is, the power dynamic is fucked up.

(Unironically I spent hours last night realizing that it balances out a lot more than C*dywan does, which I'm censoring because by god do I not want discourse on this post. I like both ships, and don't want to argue about what's the most problematic. It's Star Wars. The only unproblematic ships are Bail/Breha and Owen/Beru.)

Here's the thing, though, because the main thing people seem to argue here is the age/maturity difference as a problem area:

The age difference in actual time is four years, which is smaller than the two main ships of the franchise (Han/Leia and Padme/Anakin, to be clear). The age difference in maturity is ??? We'll say that the clones started aging normally after they hit twenty, so the age difference in maturity is six years... which is still normal for SW ships.

(This is why I don't have any issues with the ship in a post-O66 context, once they've had a few years to move past the traumas and whatnot. The age stuff all evens out with time, they're a good team, and neither was grooming the other. It's not objectively any more problematic than most SW ships at that point, and I'm okay with that. They deserve to be happy if they want.)

But they get yanked away from all that structure of who owns what, who reports where, who has which rank, who's legally a person in the eyes of the Republic when they end up on Dagobah. Once they've registered when they are, the only remaining complications are:

He grew up in a cultlike environment and was indoctrinated to serve her (but has been replacing that indoctrination with genuine respect and affection for her as a person because they've worked together for two years).

She has superpowers (contextually not a big problem: we see several Force-Sensitive/Non-Sensitive ships that don't consider those powers a complicating element)

He's several years younger than her (canonically less of an issue than it could be: Cut got married and has kids) and has next to no experience with what a normal romance looks like except for hanging out on the edges of whatever the fuck his General has going on with the Senator

She's several years less mature than he is (...something of an issue)

So a lot of this is mostly okay. She feels weird about the fact that she's got more knowledge of romance and all that it entails. He feels weird about the fact that, despite her being older, he looks at her and sees someone that's still a little young, not quite a shiny. Except she is older than him, and he's seen her behead four people in a single move, and they've saved each other's lives more times than either of them can count anymore. He respects her, and the fact that she's babyfaced doesn't change the fact that, in terms of who they are as people and warriors, they're on a level playing field.

She still looks at him and mourns his lost childhood, and he still looks at her and takes a moment to see past the too-big eyes and adolescent proportions.

But they really, really care about each other, and maybe part of them is starting to recognize that there's a bit of a crush before they time-travel, but neither one wants to make a move. There's a lot of baggage on both sides, a lot of "but they're a child" and "but they're (literally vs functionally) below me in the chain of command, I can't take advantage of that" and all that fun stuff. It's the kind of situation where two people circle each other for ages without making a move, because actually making that move is terrifying on account of not knowing whether the other party knows they can say no, on top of the usual "what if it ruins our friendship?" thing.

What happens on Dagobah, though... is very tropey. They're sort of stranded until Ahsoka can fix the ship, and that takes time. The area is also very heavy with the Force, dense and heady with the energy it carries, and it's... actually really not great for Ahsoka. She keeps feeling like she's back on Mortis, and has nightmares from the trigger there, but also keeps hallucinating because she wasn't ready for the thickness of the energy (like Yoda) or still new enough to the Force that she couldn't feel how dense it all was (like Luke). She can't work on the engines as constantly as she'd like to get them out of there, and while Rex is a competent mechanic, he's not as skilled with it as the girl who jumped headfirst into lessons with Anakin.

Rex spends a lot of time holding Ahsoka and wiping her brow with a wet cloth while she's feverish and out of it. Yes we're going full Florence Nightingale romance here, let me have my fun.

They get the communications relay working earlier than the engine, find out the year is wrong, panic a bit. All is well. (It's not, but they're holding it together for now.)

Ahsoka keeps working on the engine when she's lucid. Rex keeps hunting up game and edible plants for them while she does. They cuddle at night, because it's not cold but it is empty of the people they care about, and they kind of want that reassurance of someone they trust and love at their back.

(Morai visits.)

(Daughter shows up in the nightmares, tells Ahsoka that age will not come for her beloved until the time is natural for it. The phrasing is dumb but she does manage to convey that the accelerated aging is no longer an issue, if it even was after they hit adulthood. Ahsoka is relieved.)

And, you know, emotions happen. She takes his hand while they're leaning up against each other. He kisses her forehead while she's having a bad spell. They cook together and tell jokes to keep sane and spar. They hug each other through nightmares and panic attacks. There is much blushing. There is much cuddling.

Once, they kiss.

They break apart, flushing and stammering and being very awkward about the whole thing, and make excuses to leave and panic about the fact that they!! Kissed!!!!!

A couple hours later they find each other again, and have a long and complicated discussion about why they like each other (war makes bedfellows, there's trust and affection and all that fun stuff) and why they're hesitant (age stuff, maturity stuff, prior indoctrination), and make the decision to take it slow. They cuddle, and kiss, and blush a lot because both of them are basically just dumb teens having their first real relationship.

They eventually leave the planet, make it to Coruscant, etc. It takes a bit for anyone except Obi-Wan to realize that something's changed between them. Most people didn't know them before, and Anakin's observation skills are currently at a very low ebb. But they sit together and hold hands, and flirt when they spar, and once or twice people find them kissing (both standard and Keldabe) in a corner while holding hands and then just smiling at each other like loons.

They end up rooming together because nobody has the heart to separate them after hearing about all the war stuff. Like yes attachment's bad, but these two do seem to understand loss of loved ones and recognize that they could lose each other at any time and death is natural and they won't lose their entire shit about it, and if even General Kenobi is anxious as hell about being separated from the people he fought side-by-side with for two years, then maybe it's just... really normal for those two to want each other's company, and everyone can just turn a blind eye to the romance happening.

They share a bed, but they only ever sleep in it. Like, there's some goodnight kisses and cuddles, but everything is very G-rated until they've had time to settle into being true equals instead of just the "well, I guess the power dynamics balance out? Maybe?" of before.

And just... yeah. Rex does not believe that he's in this good of a position whenever he has the time to think about it. He's got a girlfriend! A really pretty, smart, strong, skilled one! Who thinks he's a cool dude! How the fuck did a clone like him manage that? He wasn't even legally a person a year ago, how did he end up in bed with one of the most amazing people he's ever met? He spends multiple nights just staring at her while he tries to fall asleep, asking himself how he got here and just like... marveling at her. She's worth marveling at. He's in love and she's amazing and he has no idea how to handle it at all.

...yeah no I have a lot of feelings now.

#Rexsoka #Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Quinlan Vos #time travel #Commander Buir #Phoenix Posts

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firewoodfigs · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

+++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort.

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. ��I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

#royai #royai fanfic #royai fic #sorry my lunch break is almost over so I gotta go back to work LOL but I will come back and edit this later AHAHAHAH #my new brand is 'excessive usage of chess metaphors' and man. it shows.......#lovely anon <3 #have a great week anon!!! mwahmwahmwah!!!!!!#reblogs and comments are always appreciated :")

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ibis-gt · 3 years

Text

moooore boxer au, directly following my little drabble from last night. there's good reason boxer cam and boxer laz haven't fought before, cos 6'8 heavyweight cam and 5'6 welterweight laz aren't even close to the same weight class, but laz is confident-leaning-to-arrogant enough that he thinks he can land some solid hits and dodge enough of cam's to at least not suffer a knockout loss in this supposedly-friendly spar.

he is wrong. 3600 words. warnings for a little blood and violence, disclaimer that i literally only know boxing from anime and webcomics so some of this is gonna be Incorrect Terminology

~~~

Laz and Sal step into the gym's arena and see Cam chatting animatedly with a short, curly-haired guy. Cam glances over his shoulder when he hears the door open and somehow lights up even brighter. He waves and calls out to them, then plants a hand on the turnbuckle and vaults over the top rope, easily swinging his 300-some pound bulk in a graceful arc clear.

Laz's throat tightens and his already racing heart starts working overtime. This guy shouldn't be anywhere near as nimble as all that. He's an aging slugger whose most famous matches involved him sitting still and tanking hits.

He's just showing off, Laz reassures himself. It's an intimidation tactic. Let's see him three rounds into the match when I've given him a couple straights.

"Hey, great to see you!" Cam's voice booms out as he crosses the gym floor. "I'm so glad you took my offer. I've been watching you pretty closely as of late - you've got real skill! But I just had to find out how you are firsthand." He extends his hand for a shake, then pauses as he sees Laz already has his gloves on. Cam laughs, a short, booming sound that seems to shake the room. "Okay, down to business already, huh? That's fine! Let me get changed and I'll join you."

He settles for slapping Laz on the back, which nearly knocks him over, and offering Sal a fistbump, which Sal returns shakily. Cam ambles off towards a changing room. As he passes by the mat, he holds up a hand, and the curly-haired guy tosses his gloves at him, which he catches deftly. Then he stops on his heel and whirls around, clapping a hand to his forehead.

"Oh! How rude of me. You probably don't know Luther, he's my boyfriend and occasional second.''

Luther waves. "That's me! Nice to meet you." Laz nods, and Sal waves back.

"Lazarus...'' Sal begins, but Laz cuts him off.

"Don't worry so much. Just a friendly fight, right? That means he'll take it easy, and I'll knock his head off while his guard is down.''

Sal can't help but laugh, a high-pitched, almost frantic giggle that explodes out of him without warning. Laz is always so keyed up, like he turned the dial to 11 and snapped it off. He's deadly serious of course, but he’s not bothered by Sal's laughter. He starts to bounce on his toes, swaying side to side a little, then takes a swift step to the left, back to the right, circles an invisible opponent, and - onetwothree, quick jabs in succession that trail down his phantom foe's body, no doubt leaving them stunned.

Cam comes back out of the changing room, now outfitted in a pair of black shorts and classic red gloves. He smacks them against each other a few times and beams at Laz.

They climb up into the ring together. Sal hovers behind one corner, while Luther calls out from the other side.

“We’re goin’ three rounds, one minute between each! Standard ten count, three downs in one round is a TKO. Keep it clean, fellas! And go!” He dings the bell to start the round and leans on the turnbuckle, watching intently.

Laz moves side to side, keeping his eyes on Cam. The larger man has a gentle smile on his face. Well, he’d soon wipe that clear. Laz just needs to wait for an opportunity and slip inside his guard. They’d see how that legendary endurance stacked up against Laz’s counter.

Cam moves forward and closes the distance, leading with a jab. It’s almost offensively lazy, clearly just testing Laz’s reflexes. He dodges around it and lets out a huff. I’m not going in on something that obvious, he thinks to himself. Give me something real, old man, this isn’t kindergarten.

Cam grins as though he can hear Laz’s thoughts. He lets loose with a quick combo, faster than Laz would have expected from a slugger his size. Laz dances around the first hit, blocks the second, and steps in under the third, landing a hit on Cam’s stomach. It’s his first sign that he might be in over his head. It’s like punching a concrete wall. That layer of fat must hide a solid slab of muscle. Cam barely moves, even though Laz put most of his weight behind the blow. Laz dances back out of his reach as quickly as he can, narrowly avoiding a right hook.

Okay, okay, okay. Your opponent’s bigger and stronger than you, he’s got the longer reach, and he can take what you’re throwing at him. Stay on the defensive, don’t let him get you riled up. Laz tosses his head to get his hair out of his face - how many times had Sal urged him to wear a headband? Well, too late now - and starts circling, trying to get a better angle. Cam turns with him. That smile from earlier has settled in and kicked its feet up now. It’s going to take some doing to wipe it off his face. Laz can feel his temper start to rise. It’s something he’s struggled with his whole life - he just gets so angry sometimes. He’s usually able to channel it into something productive, cool anger instead of burning rage, but something in Cam’s demeanor is starting to set him off. Cam’s guard isn’t fully up. It’s like he’s taunting Laz - you’re so small, your reach is so short, I bet you can’t even hit me up here. Try it. Laz slows his breathing and focuses on Cam’s hands instead of his face. Try and knock his head off and you’ll only prove him right. You’ve got to keep it together now and explode later when it won’t get you clobbered.

Cam comes at him with a few more jabs, putting on some pressure. Laz slips them each in turn, backing up and watching him whiff. He’s starting to catch on to Cam’s rhythm. It’s pretty simple - two jabs with the left, one with the right. Two left, one right. Two left, one right. Laz is trying to keep the ring in mind and not let himself get backed into a corner, and that’s why Cam’s sudden change in rhythm takes him by surprise. One left, and suddenly a right that catches him just as he’s shifting to anticipate the second left. He blocks it - he’s no rookie, he knows to keep his guard up - but it shudders through his body like a cymbal crash. Jesus - if I'd taken that straight on - but there’s no time to think about the hypotheticals. He’s stuttered in his movements and Cam is closing in on the opening, backing him up against the ropes. Laz ducks left, right, blocks another hit that makes his arms ring with pain, and then ducks right under Cam’s arm and spins around him, dancing away with quick hops. By the time Cam’s turned to face him, Laz is bouncing in the middle of the ring again.

“Good!” Cam calls out, and Laz wants to hit him so bad he could scream. “You’re slippery as all hell. That little trick’s won me a match or two, y’know.”

Laz grits his teeth and resumes his defensive stance.

“More of the strong silent type, huh?” Cam says conversationally. “I like a little chatter myself. Good to touch base every now and then. Anyway!” He makes a sudden lunge forward, winding up for a devastating straight. Laz sees his opening and takes it.

He slips under Cam’s punch, using his short stature to his advantage. Just inside Cam’s guard, he crouches low and explodes upwards, slamming an uppercut into Cam’s chin. Cam stumbles back, head tilted to the ceiling. Laz closes on the opening, landing blow after blow now that his guard is down. He’s about to go for a straight when Cam’s head snaps back up along with his hands. Laz doesn’t have time to slip or dodge, he’s already committed to the punch, and time seems to crawl to a halt as Cam’s right glove speeds towards his face. Red fills his vision and he has time to think: ah, fuck.

He gets up. He does not start swinging just yet, opting to hang back a moment and take stock. Cam looks a little ruffled, a few hairs loose from his immaculate bun, some red marks on his body that will no doubt bloom into bruises later on. He shifts his jaw from side to side and licks his lip, which has split open, letting a trickle of blood down his chin. Laz is much worse for wear in their exchange. Sweat drips down his forehead and nose, and his cheek is throbbing with pain.

Lazarus has been punched in the face many times before; getting your nose broken in practice a few times is how you learn to block your head. Cam’s right couner feels like all those nose-breaking punches joined together Voltron-style to fuck his specific shit up. It connects with his left cheek and eye, which almost immediately begin to swell. Laz staggers backwards, head reeling, trying to keep lucid enough to avoid a follow-up. Cam hangs back and watches, which is almost worse for Laz’s pride than if he’d kept trying to beat Laz into the mat. Cam is breathing hard, though, and clearly he felt some of those blows. Laz leans against the ropes and tries to see through the haze of pain that’s settled over his vision. His head feels like it’s been encased in concrete. God dammit, push through, he growls in his head. You’re not made of glass. Get up and get swinging. Show him why he should take you seriously.

The bell dings. Round one is over.

Cam grins and heads to his corner, where Luther is waiting to give him a kiss and fret over his injuries. Laz slumps back against the ropes again, letting out a heavy sigh. He trudges to his corner, where Sal is biting his thumbnail down to a stub.

“Well, how’m I doing?” Laz asks.

“I’m surprised you’re still standing!” Sal quavers. “It looked like he was going to smash you into dust! I mean, did you see that counter? I could hear the impact from here! And the way you fell back, I thought for sure you were going to hit the canvas. Lazarus, you’ve got to play this safe!”

“Encouraging as always,” Laz grumbles. “I’m not doing that bad, c’mon. He’s only landed the one hit. Y’know, if you don’t count the ones I blocked.”

“Sorry, I just - you know you have the Leeroy match coming up, and he’s no pushover. It’s really important if you’re trying for a shot at the title, and I can’t have you getting injured here. But you’re doing really well at slipping his jabs and you’re clearly the faster and more maneuverable fighter. You just need to know when to quit. I could see him recovering from a mile away, and his core’s really strong. Those gut punches aren’t going to do much good unless you can land a hit on his solar plex, that’ll take anyone out of commission for a moment. The punch to his chin was good, keep an eye out for his slower swings and try to slip inside his guard a few more times. You’re not going to win this by knockout, probably not even by downs, but you can give him something to think about at least.” The longer Sal talked, the calmer he got. The gears had started spinning in his head, grinding the raw anxiety into the grist of innovation. “Frankly, I don’t think you can win this fight,” he said, voice steady and sure now. “I mean, you’re simply outclassed in weight. Best you can do is stall it out and go for a tie. Just as long as you don’t go down, you’ll be fine.”

Laz tilted his head to one side, thinking it over. “Not too optimistic, there.”

“It’s just a friendly,” Sal said weakly. “And he’s several weight classes above you. Don’t take it too seriously? Please?”

“Fine,” Laz sighs, conceding at last. But you mark my words, I’m gonna give him at least one more hit that cleans his clock. He smiles too much.”

“This is exactly what got you in trouble in the Miyata match,” Sal groans.

“No it’s not! It’s nothing like that! And anyway, I’m still proud of that match, I don’t know what you’re talking about, ‘trouble’,” Laz lied. “Look, one more good hit. That’s my goal for this round, and then I back off and play defense til the bell rings.”

Sal doesn’t look convinced, but their minute to talk shop is up. The bell rings for round two, and Cam strides forward, smacking his gloves together with a loud thwack. Laz rises to meet him, jaw set. One more good hit. He’ll wait as long as it takes. That anger is back but it’s cold now, no longer the bubbling cauldron in his gut, rather a cool composure settling over his mind. His objective is clear, his goal is right in front of him, and he’s got all the patience in the world.

That is, he had all the patience in the world, right up to the point when Cam winks at him.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Winking? Winking?! Who does he think he is? Who does he think I am? Well, he’ll be winking permanently when I drill him in the eye so hard it closes up for good.

Cam actually laughs as Laz lunges forward, sharp jabs bouncing off of Cam’s raised gloves. But it’s the laughter that clues Laz in. Cam is toying with him, of course he is. He can’t take the bait, he’ll only play right into Cam’s hands. He has to relax. The angry boil is reduced to a simmer as Laz’s calmer analytic mind takes over. He’s no fool and he won’t rise to the bait. He backs off again, dancing out of range. Come and get me, big guy, he thinks, and when your sloppy footwork betrays you, I’ll nail you between the eyes.

Cam advances, not willing to let him out of range. He seems a little more cautious now, though - he won’t forget that uppercut in a hurry. They trade careful jabs, each blocking or ducking the other’s strikes, and for a moment it seems like they’re both playing it safe. Then Cam goes for a sneaky gut shot that Laz deflects, and Laz slips in under Cam’s guard and lands another shot on his chin. He slips back out as quick as he can, not wanting to get caught committing again, and Cam presses, shaking his head sharply to clear it. Laz notes with satisfaction that Cam is no longer smiling. He doesn’t look upset, though, merely focused. Good. Take me seriously.

Cam starts up his rhythm again. He’s been pressing a little more aggressively than Laz had expected all match. It makes some sense - a swarmer is a good counter to Laz’s more careful fighting style, and having to fend off constant attacks doesn’t leave him much room for mistakes. But Cam is a slugger, used to ending fights quickly with a few punches, and the strain of keeping up this offense is starting to show. He’s just a little slower, and the blows that land are just a little lighter. A bubble of excitement rises in his gut. If Cam keeps trying to overwhelm him, he could potentially wear him down and win this. He’d agreed to stall, but…

There it is. Just for a moment, Cam’s guard goes down. Laz steps in and drives a straight right at his nose, but Cam gets a hand up and it glances off. Laz bounces back, dodging a wild swipe, and goes for a body shot while Cam’s still in the followthrough. It lands, and Cam grunts. Laz is starting to sport a grin of his own. Finally, a sound out of the big guy that isn’t snark. He skips forward, aiming jabs at Cam’s head. The relentless pace is really taking the wind out of Cam’s sails; he eats punch after punch before he’s finally able to get his hands up and defend again. He staggers back in a defensive position, and Laz presses hard. He’s not about to let Cam get a second to breathe, if he can keep the pressure on and land some good hits he could actually win -

Too late, he realizes Cam’s game. It happens again. He commits to a straight, just in time to see Cam’s right coming for him. He gets his hit in first, the advantage of his proximity and speed closing the gap before Cam can, but a split second later Cam’s glove knocks into his chin enough to lift him off his feet. He feels one brief moment of weightlessness before he sinks into darkness.

~~~

“Ten!” someone shouts.

“Whuh,” Laz says, opening his eyes. For some reason, he’s lying down. And his face hurts really bad. Then it all comes flooding back and he sits up, his vision blacking out in protest. “Fuck.”

“Oooh, just missed the count!” Cam says, walking over and holding out a hand. “Good show, though. For a zippy little pipsqueak, you sure can throw a punch! I was seein' stars for a minute there. How’s your jaw?”

“Fuckin’ hurts,” Laz says. “How’s your ribs?”

“Fuckin’ hurt!” Cam laughs. “C’mon, let’s get some ice on that and talk shop.” Laz takes his hand and tries to pull himself upright, but his legs don’t want to take his weight. Cam takes notice and kneels down, getting Laz’s arm around his shoulder.

“Up we get,” he grunts, straightening up. Then he looks down and sees Laz’s feet dangling a good six inches off the ground and bursts out laughing. “You really are tiny,” he guffaws. “Why the hell’d you agree to fight me?”

“Why the hell’d you offer?” Laz grumbles.

“Well, to tell you the truth,” Cam says, walking the two of them towards the corner, where Luther and Sal have stepped onto the mat. “I hate retirement. I miss the ring. I wanna get back into the game somehow, so I figured I’d see how the up-and-coming competitors are doing. And frankly, kid, you’re not half bad.” He unslings Laz’s arm from his shoulders and guides him over to the little chair set up against the turnbuckle. Sal holds a bag of ice to the swelling on his eye and cheek. Cam sighs as though admitting defeat. “So fine, I’ll do it. I’ll train you.”

Sal and Laz gape at him for a moment. Luther clasps his hands to his chest and sighs dreamily.

“I already have a trainer,” Laz sputters. “And there’s nothing I want to learn from you. No offense or anything, but look, you’re not - “

“You’re in shock,” Cam said, nodding solemnly. “I get it. It’s fine, take a few minutes to really let it sink in. Cam Mersharc, five time world champion, agreeing to train you, I mean, it would throw anyone for a loop.”

“Listen, you deluded old man,” Laz starts to growl, but Sal puts a hand on his shoulder.

“What we mean to say is, of course we’re flattered and thrilled by the offer, but there’s a contract, you see, so it’s really legally out of our hands…”

“Oh, sure, no problem. Luther, honey, you still friends with that lawyer?”

“Sure am,” Luther chirps. “I’ll give her a call, schedule a chat, we’ll have you out of that in no time.”

Sal glances at Laz and shrugs. “Could be useful just to see what he has to offer..?”

Laz scowls and glares up at Cam. “Okay, old man, what’re you thinking?”

“Obviously your footwork’s impeccable and your speed is top notch. You’ve got a brain in there, too, I could see it working the whole time. Your strength is okay for someone your size, and your endurance could use some work. You train with me, I’m gonna round you out. Technically and physically,” he says, playfully tapping Laz’s chest. “Put some meat on those bones, tighten your core, bulk up those arms. Don’t give me that look, you won’t move out of your weight class. Just a little extra padding so when someone gives you one of these - “ His fist stops a half inch from plowing right through Laz’s gut. He’d barely seen Cam’s arm move - had he been holding back in the fight? Or was that head injury messing with his vision? “ - you don’t fold like an omelette. Whaddya say?”

Laz weighs his options. It never hurt to round out a little. It almost sounds like Cam’s offering to shift him towards being a boxer-puncher instead of an out fighter.

“Well… can’t hurt. But if I think you’re full of shit, I’ll tell you to your face. Don’t expect me to start fawning and kissing the ground you walk on just ‘cause you beat me.”

Cam laughs and slaps Laz on the back, nearly knocking him to the mat again.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pipsqueak! Now, get down and give me twenty.”

“What? Now? I still have my gloves on.”

“Sorry, was I not clear? On the mat. Twenty push-ups. If you’re doing them wrong, I’ll make your friend sit on your back. Go.”

Laz drops to the mat, cursing up a storm. Cam nods as he watches him bob up and down.

“Oh, yes. This is going to be the start of something wonderful.”

#writing #cam and luther #underbelly #boxing au #not gt #size diff tho uwu #writing fight scenes is so hard ;-;#i will improve i promise....

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upthenorthmountain · 3 years

Text

Thaw - Part 2

This is another thing I found in my Google Drive half-written, and managed to finish it up. It’s a sequel to Thaw so if you haven’t read that you should read it first. Thank you to @karis-the-fangirl as always x

Thaw - Part 2

“Mother, there’s a man!”

Anna carefully finishes the last flourish on a flower, and starts the next. “If it’s Mr Olsen, tell him he’ll have it this afternoon,” she calls back through to the front of the shop.

“It’s not Mr Olsen,” Greta says, leaning on the doorway into the workshop. “It’s a man in uniform. He asked for you.”

“Uniform?”

“I think.”

Anna puts down her brush and wipes her hands on her apron. “Did he say what he wanted?”

“No.”

She doesn’t know the man, has never seen him before, but his appearance stops her in the doorway for a moment. He wears green, with the symbol of the crocus. Greta didn’t recognise it but there was no reason why she would.

“Can I help you?” she says to him, walking forward.

“Mrs Bjorgman? Mrs Anna Bjorgman?”

“Yes. You’ve come from Arendelle.” The word sounds strange on her tongue. Nearly twenty years since they left. Where does the time go?

“Yes, ma’am. The Prince Consort has sent us to fetch you.”

“Not the Queen?” As she says it she knows what he will say.

“The Queen is unwell, ma’am, and the Prince thought you might wish to see her, before...”

“You don’t have to call me ma’am,” Anna says, but her mind is already spinning. She hasn’t finished painting the table for Mr Larsen, but her son Nils can do it, no one will notice the difference. Mrs Andersen will help with the children. She hasn’t quite finished sewing the hem on her new dress but it will do. “Greta, go find your father, please. Quickly.”

-----

Anna remembers it as a two day journey from Arendelle but after leaving home at sun-up they arrive at the castle well before dusk. The road has been improved in the intervening years and the carriage wheels roll smoothly - the horses of the Royal Guard, also, lift their hooves much more swiftly than dear old Sven ever did.

They’ve sent a coach, just for her, with two white horses and a driver and two guards, and they keep calling her ma’am so after a while she lets them and tries to remember what she knows about Elsa’s new family. The Prince Consort is a Prince Gustav, she knows that, but for the life of her she can’t remember where he’s from. Somewhere advantageous, she’s sure. And there is a boy and a girl, an heir and a spare. Elsa always took her responsibilities very seriously.

Of course she had thought of her sister a great deal. More at first; when she and her husband had remained in Arendelle those first few months, with everyone watching them and talking behind their hands. Less after they had left for a new start somewhere else. Kristoff had talked himself into an apprenticeship with a carpenter - Mr Andersen’s last apprentice had run off to sea just short of completing his training, and he grudgingly agreed that a man with a family to support might be a little steadier and inclined to work hard to prove his worth - and Anna’s painting, that had been indulged in the castle as a hobby suitable for a noblewoman, was suddenly a useful skill.

No one knew where they were from. Not explicitly. Perhaps there were a few rumours, but it didn’t take many miles for the grand scandal in Arendelle to have faded away to nothing. The other women in the town quickly deduced that Anna was of noble birth and had married beneath her and had no idea how to run a home. Most were kind but a few were not and sometimes at the market she could hear them talking about her behind their hands. She thinks love is all you need but she’ll soon find it’s not that easy. A home and family is hard work. She’s got a lot to learn.

They were right, she had a lot to learn; a lot to learn, and she learnt it all. She learnt how to cook dinner, and then she learnt how to cook dinner holding a baby, or with a toddler pulling at her skirts. She learnt how easily everything got dirty and how to clean it. She learnt how hard you can pray over an ill child in the dark corners of the night, and she learnt how that same child can drive you to distraction when recovered two days later.

She cleaned and she mended and she cooked, and she painted crockery and tables and chairs and shelves, often with a baby next to her in a basket or a child playing at her feet. No one was going to be able to say she couldn’t take care of her family. No one was going to call her a bad wife, a bad mother. She was going to build this life for herself.

Mr Andersen had retired, officially, five years ago. The sign on the front of the workshop had been repainted - Bjorgman Family Carpentry and Coachworks - but Mr Andersen still comes by every day to sit in his corner and drink the coffee Anna makes him and talks to the children. Mrs Andersen stops by to fetch him home for his dinner, and she always comes nice and early to make sure she has time to sit for a while herself. The children adore them both and they are family, now. You can find family, and you can make it. That has been the best thing Anna has learnt, by far.

-----

Anna worries, on the journey back to Arendelle, that someone will insist she stays in her old bedroom, but when she arrives the housekeeper - a new one, a woman younger than herself that Anna doesn’t know - immediately apologises and says that won’t be possible.

“That is now Princess Ulrika’s room,” she says, “But we have another prepared for you.”

“Can I see my sister today? The Queen, may I see her?”

The housekeeper shakes her head. “I’m sorry. She’s asleep. She doesn’t wake often, these days, but I’m sure you’ll have a chance to speak to her.”

-----

It’s nearly a week before she does. Her sister is iller than Anna had imagined. It is so strange, to be back in the castle, to be alone and occupation-less, wandering the halls by herself. So much is the same, but so much has changed. A few pictures have been rearranged. Some rooms have different purposes. But then she’ll turn a corner and everything will be so exactly as it always was that it sends a shiver down her spine and she has to remind herself firmly of her husband and children, waiting for her; her friends and work back home. She isn’t that girl any more and soon she’ll go back to her real life.

Maybe she’d just buried her childhood, buried it under layers of paint and dishes and kisses and laundry. With all that lifted away, there was still a raw place that hurt when prodded, and the strangest things would set it off. The smell of the sheets on her bed - they must still use the same kind of soap. The smooth wood of the handrail on the stairs - at home no one has time to polish a handrail to a shine. The shape of the light through the diamond-shaped panes.

Prince Gustav is a pleasant man, and under normal circumstances Anna thinks she would like him very much. Ulrika and Henrik are delightful children, though of course somewhat subdued. Ulrika sees Anna drawing one afternoon and begs her to draw her portrait, which she does, and she is then obliged to draw Henrik and Gustav and Ulrika’s pet cat, as well as copy the sketches of her own children that she had brought with her. Elsa’s children are fascinated by the thought of their cousins and Anna has to tell all about them and promise she will pass on any letters they want her to take back.

Her niece and nephew are clearly close, and are often together, talking or reading or sometimes playing, although they are a little old for games. It makes Anna glad, especially as she knows that they will soon lose their mother. They have each other, as well as their father, just as her own children will have each other through whatever life will bring them. This too is healing.

-----

Finally, late morning on the sixth day of her visit, a nurse finds Anna and leads her to her sister’s bedroom. Elsa is lying in her centre of the large bed, propped up slightly on some cushions. She’s pale - but she was always pale, wasn’t she? - and although Anna knows of course that twenty years have passed and she herself has aged, it’s still a shock to see the faint lines on her sister’s face.

“She might not know you,” the nurse says quietly. “This is the most lucid she’s been for days, but - she doesn’t have long now.”

Anna nods, and approaches the bed. Elsa moves her head slightly, and turns her ice-blue eyes to her sister. They can still make Anna flinch. As soon as I came back here I became a child again, she thinks. Straight after this I will leave. Or tomorrow, at any rate. I can’t stand it.

Elsa says nothing, but her gaze is even and clear. Anna feels herself start to quail, and then she remembers - you have no power over me now. There is nothing Elsa has that Anna wants. There is nothing Anna wants that Elsa has the power to deny her. I wish we could have met a year ago, when you were well, as adults, Anna thinks. I wonder what that would have been like. But it’s too late, now. Too late for a lot of things. The years have passed - but Anna feels like she made good use of them. The best use she could have done. She hopes, here and now, that Elsa feels the same way about her own life. That is all she wants for her sister.

-----

Anna doesn’t stay for the funeral. All the fuss and bother, all the pageantry, all the people wanting to catch a glimpse of her - she doesn’t need it. Let Arendelle say goodbye to its queen how it pleases. Anna takes her seat on the mail coach home and ponders her sister’s final words.

“Anna,” she’d said, at the last. “Anna, I need to say something to you.”

“It’s alright, Elsa,” Anna had said, leaning over her sister, taking her hand. “It’s alright. I forgive you.”

And Elsa had looked at her, confused, not understanding.

And then, so softly, half to herself. “For what?”

#thaw #fanfiction #fanfic

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ricaffeine · 4 years

Text

You’re Much More Handsome

Summary: He shuts his eyes and tries to think about other things—anything other than her head near his dick. A filthy continuation of the scene in Episode Eight where Munyeong lays on Kangtae’s lap.

a/n: (picture credits to the owner) i had a wild imagination with this scene when i first saw it so i hope i served it justice 😏😈 i personally love flustered KT he's adorable hehe. i'm still an amateur in writing smut so let me know what you think! which part is ur favorite??? i’d love to hear ur thoughts! 💗🔥

Her sweltering breath tickles the nape of his neck, like a cackling fire against his skin. Kangtae drowns in the delicious shiver, goosebumps stretch across his body—in a sense that pulls him into sweet bliss. His body tingles from the sensation, aching for it to last.

A gush of air is then blown into his ear, like a loud alarm blaring his senses, in contrast to the previous warm stir, as if telling him the privilege has ended. He almost jumps in his seat, stuttering with his words.

“A-ah, w-what are you doing?!” He frantically hisses, brushing her away and to his surprise she concedes, crawling back to her approaching pose. She’s staring at him with eagle eyes, hands planted on the red plush cushion, her back is excessively arched as she tormentingly poses her enticing chest. The sight itself makes him want to groan out loud.

Stop it, Kangtae

Munyeong smirks at his predictable reflex—like a frightened cat scrambling for sanity.

“Your face is red.”

In an instant he flusters at her remark, his wobbly hands almost lose hold of the ragged doll but he catches it with his inhuman speed—almost pricking his finger with the sharp needle. He exasperatedly counters. “What? I’m not—”

Before he can even finish his defence, Munyeong promptly drops onto his lap and instantaneously his mind short circuits. Her head comfortably lays on his groin, and Kangtae feels like all his blood has rushed down south.

“I’m sleepy.” He hears her say, and air catches in his throat. What does she mean?

He sputters out an automatic response, driving his focus to the wrecked doll. “Go upstairs and sleep.”

Munyeong mumbles, shifting her weight backward to his burgeoning region and he chokes back a moan. Her hand trails up onto his clothed leg, fingernails scratching slightly on the green fabric, hindering his breath once more. “I don’t want to. You’re here.”

You’re here. The words warm his chest and unforgivingly, his lower region as his mind dives into a lucid imagination.

Her soft lips, wet tongue, warm silken skin.

It’s a hard slap on his thigh that snaps him out of his trance and Kangtae springs like a deer caught in headlights.

“Relax, won’t you?”

Munyeong grumbles as she snuggles into a comfier position. He plans to protest, but knowing that his futile attempt would get him nowhere with her wayward behavior, he surrenders, trying to loosen up the tense muscle as she demanded. Though it refuses to as their intimacy terrifies him.

Letting out heavy breath, he sets Mangtae aside on the couch arm, planning to fix it later once she’s asleep and he leans on his back. He shuts his eyes and tries to think about other things—anything other than her head near his dick.

Tomorrow’s breakfast, Sangtae’s art supplies that he needs to buy, and the grocery list.

Soon enough exhaustion anchors his body, pulling at his limbs and Kangtae hangs his head back, welcoming it.

Munyeong smiles to herself as she rests on his lap, taking a mental note of the thickness of his thighs, planning to put them to good use one day. His outbreak this afternoon has proven his desire clearer than ever and the reminisce of his jealousy pleases her more than it should. She had gotten a call from Sangin late afternoon, a short while after he angrily stomped away, asking her what on earth she had done to make the composed man lash out at him.

He’s just jealous, she laughed enthusiastically before ending their call despite the wails from the other line. Little did he know he jealousy was riled up over something that was not even alive.

Carefully, she pushes herself off his lap and crawls up his sturdy chest, surprised as she’s met by his unconscious state. Silence fills the study room and Munyeong admires his handsome face. Granted asleep, his features strain tense, brows furrowing and his lips sealed tight—as if he’s scared she’s going to swallow him whole.

She might as well do it.

Leisurely, she grasps his shoulder for support, hoisting up a little and she presses a firm kiss onto the column of his neck. It’s soft and teasing, and a sly smile curves onto her pink lips as she watches him shudder beneath her. Enjoying his subconscious reaction, Munyeong leans in to trail more on the warm expanse, the fragrance of his soap whiffing into her nose.

She hums in amusement, warm lips dragging along his velvety skin. In between the state of slumber and awareness, Kangtae tiredly stirs, relishing the tingling sensation before he’s jerked back to reality as he feels something lick behind his ear, sparing hot fire across his body. His eyes snap open, the image of her repletes his sight.

“Munyeong.” Bewildered, he grips both of her shoulders, heat searing through his awakened body and he stares unbelievably at her.

His growl is enough to catch her focus and she looks up at him, bewitching face painted with deceit innocence.

“I mean,” Munyeong rasped, tracing a finger along his sharp jawline. “You seemed so tense earlier, I thought I'd ease you up.”

Kangtae lets out a quivering breath, puzzled at her sly excuse. By trying to kill him?

“Also, your dick was sticking into my head," she adds shamelessly and he blushes into a deep shade of red.

“I-I think I should g-go.” Utterly embarrassed by his arousal, Kangtae attempts to stand up, wobbly legs ready to run back to his room but she pushes him back down, tumbling on top of him. Her warmth radiates around him and he feels like he’s suffocating in sweet disaster, his body lusting for more but his every cell of his brain tells him it’s wrong.

Before he can say anything, Munyeong steals his lips into a fierce kiss and Kangtae feels like he might just stop breathing.

She doesn’t spare him at all, soft lips persistently moving against his, licking the seams as she demands for his tongue. He protests to cave in, terrified that he’d become more lost in his lust, obliged to push her away but his mind blanks white as soon as her hand slides down to palm his stiff cock—a loud groan falls apart from him and she uses the advantage to dive into his open mouth.

Her wet tongue licks into his mouth, leaving no corner untouched and Kangtae groans shamefully, completely lost in the new sensation as her hand works on his erection. After a few moments, he feels her pull away and Kangtae, who doesn't remember shutting his eyes, opens them, and sees her angling for his neck. Sucking on a spot that makes his limbs go weak and Munyeong takes another mental note, nipping and grazing until she's pleased with the blushing mark.

“Let me.” Lacing her fingers with the waistband of his pants, she gives him a look, falling down to her knees. Telling him she wasn’t going to stop there and he doesn’t protest when she tugs both of the clothing halfway down. A small gasp leaves her lips as her eyes prey on his rock hard cock—as if it was the best thing she has seen in her life.

Slowly, she wraps her small hand around his thick shaft, it twitches in her grasp, pulling out a weak moan from him and Munyeong flashes him a smirk.

“See? You're much more handsome.”

He fumes into a deep blush, shy but glinted with pride, tearing away from their stare. In a painfully slow move, her thumb massages at his head, smearing the juices that are already leaking from the angry tip and his answering groan encourages her.

“Do you want me to stop?” With blurry vision he looks down at her. She’s kneeling in front of him, her tempting mouth perfectly aligned with his pulsing cock and she meets him with a sly gaze.

Kangtae feels like he might pass out. The world around him seemed to be spinning from her whirlwind of seduction and he could scarcely choke out a word, barely managed to shake his head no.

She’s only teasing him—a playful trial to his self control before she eagerly takes his rock hard tip into her plush lips, sucking lightly and his taste bursts onto her tongue. Kangtae seals his eyes shut, her sensual touch hindering his breathing pace as his hips involuntary buck into her face, surprising her.

Munyeong hums at his wild reaction before she takes all of him into her warm mouth, going as far as she can take as her tongue flattens against the underside of his veiny shaft.

Kangtae shudders in pleasure, shoving his dick into her mouth like his whole body is on fire. She lets him for a moment before releasing his dick, spit dripping down her chin and she wipes it away. As much as she’s loving his wild reflex, she wants to do it herself.

"Stay still for me, mhm?"

He looks at her with hooded eyes, barely getting out an answer and he feels her soft hand reach for his. His heart swells at the gesture, fingers locked with hers and Kangtae lets her take the lead.

Her determination unveils as she takes him back in her pretty mouth. Alternating between sucking and licking, curling her tongue and her hand strokes the part that can’t fit her mouth. Her eyes never leave him, captivated by the sight—he's collapsed back, body writhing under her hold as he refrains his hips from moving. Incoherent profanities spill from his tight lips.

"Fuck Munyeong!"

His loud groans sound into the spacious room as she curls her tongue, unable to control himself as Kangtae sloppily jerks into her wet mouth and arousal seeps through her panties. He had really lost control. Munyeong opens wider, aroused by the beastly side of him and she encourages him to use her, softly moaning to herself.

"Fuck fuck I'm-"

His orgasm ripples through him like an earthquake, unexpected and violent as he spasms in his seat. Kangtae dozes off to a sweet ecstasy, pretty moans spilling from his lips, his hand clutching onto hers like his life depends on it. Munyeong emboldens him with a promising grip, hot fluid spurting into her mouth and her lips milk every last drop.

Getting off her knees, she climbs back on to his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. A coy smile plays on her glistening lips as she gazes at his scorching face.

“Did you like it?”

Kangtae gapes at her, pupils blown out as he breathes hard from her endearment. All he can do is muster a shy nod and her smile grows wider, meeting him in a deep kiss.

His strong arms circle around her small waist, pulling her closer and her weight crashes onto his lap, long legs gripping his sides as she grinds her heat onto his bare cock. Her arousal almost drips through the thin material of her panties, rocking her hips into his as she moans into his mouth. the sound tattooed in his memory.

This time he doesn't refrain himself, greedily lapping at her mouth, lingering with the taste of his own release and if possible Kangtae blushes more furiously. No one has ever done that for him, and although the power was in her hands, she had held him with tenderness more than he could ever imagine.

He drowns himself in her paradise, licking relentlessly at her cavern until their exerted lungs burn for air.

Munyeong pulls back, inhaling sharply and he can see adrenaline gushing behind her eyes. Her hips don't stay still, rubbing the head of his cock against her pulsating clit.

“I want you. All of you.” She whispers, lust dripped in her words and there’s a pause of sentiment. She stalls, dreading for his response.

“Can you give it to me?”

His breath is caught in his throat as he stares at her, distracted in the delicious touch of their bodies and he chokes out a pleading answer.

“Yes.”

Sighing, Munyeong lifts herself up, scrunching the lower fabric of her dress around her waist, discarding her panties. His jaws are slack as he watches her lower herself, brushing her damp folds with the head of his cock.

Without a warning she takes his breath away, sinking onto his hard cock as her tight walls desperately cling around him. Munyeong moans in relief. She had been longing for this, for weeks she had solely relied on her own fingers to sate her hungry desire, exclusively sparked by him, and their reality reminds her that her dreams could never compare to this.

Kangtae grips at her hips, doing everything he can from thrusting into her like a mad man but he feels like it’s getting more difficult by the second.

They rock languidly into each other,hips rolling in a luscious rhythm that sends both of them into a spiral of bliss. Munyeong whimpers helplessly, rolling and grinding onto his cock. He fills her perfectly, greater than any man has ever had. His hands are everywhere, her breasts, hips, and neck, begging for more.

Munyeong places her hands onto his broad chest, beginning to ride him, tight walls clenching around air before she slams back down to him, hissing at the unbelievable pleasure. Their moans resound into the room, filled with the sound of their skin smacking and Kangtae’s eyes are strained at the obscene view. His cock disappearing into her hot pussy before reappearing once more in the filthiest rhythm.

She whines his name, spewing curses into his ear and his hips instinctively smack up to meet hers.

For a split second, his mind revisits the man from today’s afternoon, enraged at that bastard’s audacity to even touch her and Kangtae holds her even tighter in his arms, closing the gap between their chests and he can feel her taut nipples peek through the cotton of their clothes. Munyeong falls weak in his embrace, threading her hands in his dark locks of hair, shifting her weight back and his thrust bumps into a strange spot. Her body tingles in the new sensation.

“Oh my— Kangtae!”

She cries in pleasure, nails clawing into his back as she buries her head into his neck, panting. Kangtae notes her strange surprise and begins to ram repeatedly at the same spot. Her screams are drowned by his hungry lips, toes vitally curling and she trembles from the attention on the newly discovered spot.

“More more more!”

His thumb brushes past her wet folds, eventually finding her clit and he rubs fervidly, mimicking what he has seen on the internet. His lips find its way to her elegant neck, sucking until it leaves a prominent bruise. Munyeong trembles above him, body scorching from the feverous pleasure and she shatters completely.

His name cries on her lips like a prayer, her walls squeezing tight around him and he breaks apart shortly. Thick searing streams of cum shooting into her and he grunts her name in the sweetest song.

Breathlessly, she mewls next to his ear, her chin resting on his broad shoulder. After a moment when their breaths falter back to normal, she pulls out of him with slack limbs, missing for his warmth.

Settling herself on his thighs, Munyeong gazes at him with a devilish grin.

“I pulled your safety pin.”

The room stills with quietness and she cups his tender face in her hand, eyes glimmering with triumph as she playfully asks. “Do I get a certificate?”

Resulting to her words, his parched mouth falls open, not knowing what to say and Kangtae stares at her.

He really had removed his pin.

Munyeong watches as thoughts scatter behind his dark orbs, splashing colors and pulling him into reality before he emits with laughter. She feels his hand slowly creep up her back, tugging at the zip of her fragile dress and his strong arms draw her back onto him. Their chests collide and he brings a finger to graze her puffy lips.

“You got me. Why would you care about that?”

#it's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #pbio fic #iotnbo #moon kang tae #ko mun yeong #ko moon young #moon gang tae #사이코지만 괜찮아 #iotnbo fic

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mvrtaiswriting · 4 years

Note

Hello! I love your work and stuff, so I’ll just leave this here for now. Take your time btw! So anyways, Josuke with s/o who gets really down and is in need of cuddles? You can inspire it off of Golden Days by Panic! At the Disco. Josuke just reminding there s/o of happy thoughts and stuff! Please and thank you, have a lovely day! ^^

Golden Days. - Josuke Higashikata.

Helloo and sorry if this took way too long! CwC I do have an excuse: I’ve only recently started JJBA pt.4 so it was kinda hard for me to exaclty understand Josuke and be talh about him as accurately as possible! Anyway, this was fun and made me notice way more things about him so thank you very much for requesting him! I love P!ATD so your request was spot on. I hope it will meet your expectations. Enjoy! x

Ps: thank you for your compliments and I hope you’ll have a wonderful day too! xx

Neutral reader x Josuke

Jojo’s bizzare adventures: Diamond is Unbreakable

SFW

Trigger warning: references to panic attacks, minor references to paranoia

Words count: 1484

Hi! Are you a new reader? Check my masterlist for more content!

Please feel free to reblog or leave a comment :) help me support my art (it’s free!),

It wasn’t unusual for you to lose yourself inside your own mind. Sometimes you would just zone out and wonder by the corridors of the labyrinth inside your head, falling into an infinite spiral of overthinking which wasn’t easy to escape. It was complicated to keep your paranoia under control; there were times in which you just couldn’t stop obsessing over a minor inconvenient happened to you, overthinking it enough to make it seem bigger than it really was, becoming anxious and hypervigilant as a consequence. And you hated it – you hated how your mind was able to control you in such a tricky way; you felt as if you were your own slave. Once crisis were over and you finally regained your so called ‘lucidity’ other emotions would take control of you; you’d start feeling stupid for making yourself go through all that suffering for something so silly, making you enter a loop of self denigration and severe self judgement. At times it would just be too much.

However, you were lucky enough to have Josuke by your side. The two of you had been together for some months and somehow he was perfectly able to save you from your own self. He always managed to put a smile on your face – he knew how to make you happy. Not that he was something that he had to plan ahead; it was just so natural for you to feel better whenever he was around. His smile, the way he managed to be so naïve yet so smart and mature at the same time just always enabled you to relax and feel better. His simple presence was enough to make you feel protected from both the outside world and the terrifying world that lived in your head.

Josuke never quite understood what really happened inside your mind whenever you’d have a crisis, and he learnt with time that the best thing he could do was simply listening to you. You were sure your thought process looked so indecipherable and nonsense to him, but he never pointed out. He would always be so supportive and would try his best to understand how you felt and your point of view – the last thing he wanted was to make you feel worse. He never judged you and he would always try to convince you that you should never feel ashamed of the way you felt. He was the first person to make you feel as if every little complicated emotion you felt was valid and wasn’t something that made you crazy, and you were just eternally glad to have him by your side.

Since the two of you started dating, you made some progress. Crisis became less usual and (most of the times) less intense than before, and with Josuke’s help, you were able to manage them better. His company had a major influence on you and on your overall state of mind, making your heart feel less heavy and filling your mind with wonderful memories – almost as if every moment you shared together somehow redecorated your mind, making it a bit less threatening and less uncomfortable than before.

However, this didn’t mean that crisis completely disappeared. You were playing videogames together in his living room when something just seemed to click in your mind. Although the enthusiasm shown by your boyfriend while playing, you just felt as if something just shut down. All of a sudden, you didn’t want to play anymore and felt as if you didn’t have any strength to push the buttons of your controller. That sensation led you to feel ungrateful and worthless. You started to think about how you ruined a perfect afternoon which your boyfriend was clearly enjoying, remembering all of the occasion something similar had happened. You thought he deserved way better than someone who’s broken and, like a hurricane, manages to destroy everything around them. These thoughts started to become louder and louder in your mind, as if a voice screamed at you about how you’d always stop Josuke from being happy. You tried your best to ignore it but you could only focus on how guilty you felt towards your boyfriend, and before realising it, tears started streaming down your face. Your cheeks became red as you ran your fingers through your air, starting to breathe heavily.

Josuke immediately noticed something was wrong, and he carelessly threw the controller away from him, turning to his side so he could face you.

He was visibly worried, yet he gently smiled at you as he delicately pulled you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. ‘Hey, hey..’ he said quietly, caressing your hair.

‘What’s wrong?’

He questioned, looking at you while rubbing the tears off your face with his thumb. A small moment of silence settled down between you two. ‘It’s okay, I’m here. Breathe with me, mh?’ he whispered gently. He took your hands in his and, looking at you, he helped you normalising the pace of your breath. You followed the movement of his strong shoulders as he breathed, slowly relaxing yourself.

‘I’m sorry. I always do this. I ruin every moment we get to spend together. You deserve better.’

You sniffed, hiding your face in his chest – not being able to bear any type of eye contact. ‘Hey! I thought I was the funny one!’ he said jokingly, leaving a cute kiss on the tip of your nose. You smiled weakly, shaking your head in disagreement. ‘You make me so happy. And in this regard.. I want you to see something!’

He continued, standing up from the couch and going to his bedroom. A few minutes later, when he came back to you, he was holding a little box in his hands.

You looked at him in confusion, while he goofily smiled at you, blushing. He sat next to you, putting his arms around your body and letting your back rest on his chest. He took advantage of this position to leave a kiss on your cheek. ‘Open it!’ he said, raising his tone in excitement.

You held the little square box in your hands for a bit, observing it. It was made of rough wood, probably crafted by hand by your lover. On the top of it, a writing made with a red marker pen said ‘Golden Days’. You opened the box only to reveal a pile of Polaroids of you, Josuke and some of your friends, taken in particular days of which you had a wonderful memory of – you could vividly remember the happy and how light-hearted you felt in those days. As you leafed through the pictures, Josuke would happily start talking about the day they represented.

‘Do you remember this day? We were on my uncle’s yacht!’

He said, pointing at a picture you were holding in your hand.

‘How can I forget? The air was sauna hot and you complained all day about how the temperature was ruining your hair!’ You said laughing, as your boyfriend started to tickle your waist. ‘HEY!’ he screamed. ‘My hair is a serious issue and you know it!’ he continued, as he tickled you more as if he was trying to punish you. He knew you couldn’t resist it and soon enough your laugh filled the room, followed by his. When he finally stopped, Josuke looked at you for a few seconds before showering you with kisses while you tried your best to keep looking at the polaroids without getting too distracted.

‘I didn’t know you had this box!’ you said, feeling way better than you did minutes before.

‘I had it for a while, and decided you needed one of this too.’ he answered seriously, while moving your hair from your face. ‘If I’m not there, I want you to have something for when you feel as if the light begins to fade.’ He continued, leaving a soft kiss on your temple.

After hearing those words, you couldn’t help but smile. He had his own, simple way to make you happy – and he never failed at it. Somehow, he was capable to make your heart and your mind to feel completely at peace, gifting you of special moments when things weren’t so complicated. You turned around to face Josuke, putting your hands on his chest and leaning on him for a kiss. As you did so, he smiled too, letting one of his hand gently running up and down your back.

‘Thanks.’ you whispered as you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. In response, Josuke let out a tender laugh.

‘I love you, (Y/N). This is the least I can do.’ he replied, never stopping from cuddling you.

The two of you remained like this for a while, enjoying each other’s attentions and delicate touch.

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

Note

14 for the lyric ask with bakugou x reader

Thank you! I really enjoyed this one, it’s one of my favourite songs <3

series: 500 followers event

pairing: Bakugou x Reader [Boku no hero Academia]

song: Ghost - Halsey

I don’t like them innocent, I don’t want no face fresh, want them wearing leather, begging let me be your taste-test. I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies.

You kissed him as roughly as you could, as if you were almost challenging him. His hands were on the small of your back and, just when they were travelling south, Bakugou pulled away from you. A frustrated groan escaped your lips.

“What?” you asked. Bakugou was breathing heavily, his furrowed eyebrows not matching with the intimate moment you had just shared. His eyes looked straight into you, making it feel like as if you weren’t using your hero costume at all. He looked away and you rolled your eyes. “What is it?” you insisted, looking at your wrist watch. You were still on your lunch time, but you’d rather have him touching you again instead of watching him stumble on his own thoughts. You hoped Kirishima wouldn’t mind if you were a little late. Luckily, he was only three floors away.

Bakugou’s agency was located on the seventh floor of a building in the center of the city. You were working as a sidekick for Red Riot, who also had his agency on the fourth floor on the same building. Your boss had a pretty good relationship with him -they had been friends since their days in U.A.- so it was no surprise you had gotten to know Bakugou and his sidekicks after a year of working there. You felt at ease whenever you and Red Riot had a mission, and you really liked the way he treated his other sidekicks. It had taken a while for you to stop calling him by his hero name, but after much persuading, you could finally say you considered Kirishima the best boss you’ve ever had.

It had all started on Bakugou’s birthday. Kirishima had insisted on throwing him a surprise party at his agency. Alongside the other sidekicks, you helped him decorate and waited for the birthday man to appear through the doors. Even if Kirishima had to forcefully bring him to the agency -Bakugou wanted to go straight home-, the party turned out to be a success. It seemed Bakugou had way less alcohol tolerance than you thought he did. You laughed at the way he kept yelling at Kirishima for the jello shots being green and refused to dance with any of the sidekicks that had been brave enough to ask. You didn’t even bother to try. It was true you found him incredibly attractive, but you knew your place. If admiring his hero work and daydreaming about his chiseled arms was as far as you were supposed to go, that was alright. You had learnt long ago you shouldn’t mix work and love.

When you looked at the clock, it was already midnight. You yawned, thanking you didn’t have to show up for work the next day. Still, you felt like falling asleep and knew it would be rude to leave a party so early. You decided to go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face to try and keep awake. The reflection on the mirror showed you how tired you look. Flicking your tongue, you took out your lipstick and reapplied, trying to better your image.

As you put the lipstick back in your purse, the door slammed open. You recognized Ground Zero’s form entering the bathroom, his legs not helping him walk completely straight. The bathroom door closed again behind him as he walked towards you with an angry look.

“The fuck you’re doing here?” he growled.

“This is the ladies bathroom” you defended yourself, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

Bakugou looked around him and noticed the lack of urinals around him. He grunted and tried to turn around, but his legs failed him, making him stumble. You quickly ran up to him to help. The way he accepted your help made you realize how drunk he must have been. You held him up the best you could, grabbing his sides to steady him. He looked down at you and let out a dark chuckle.

“You’re so fucking hot” he breathed. Before you could reply, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against yours. You yelped in surprise, not having prepared in the slightest for a situation like this. You knew he was been drinking and probably wasn’t thinking straight but hell, your wildest dreams had came true out of the blue. Sadly, you only managed to kiss him back for a couple of seconds before he put his hands on your shoulders and pushed you away.

“Fuck... I shouldn’t. You’re drunk” he hissed. You shook your head rapidly.

“No, I haven’t drunk anything. I’m on antibiotics. Bad wound while on patrol” you quickly explained, patting your thigh. His eyes looked at you again, thinking about his choices. You opened your mouth to speak again, but were quickly silenced by his lips one more time. This time, he was rougher, his hands sneaking under your blouse. Bakugou groaned when you pulled his hair, and you swore you could get drunk on that sound alone. Your hands fell on his chest, delighting yourself as you stroked his pecs and then marveled in how strong his abs felt. As you kept going down, you recognized the texture of fine hairs under his belly button and shuddered at the idea.

It was all you’ve ever dared to dream. But the taste of alcohol in your mouth brought you back to reality. There wasn’t anything you wanted less than to stop him, but you’d be damned if you were going to take advantage of someone you had admired for so long.

“Wait” you said, making him break the kiss. Bakugou panted against your mouth, making you lose focus for a second. “I-- I’m not drunk, but you are. And it just feels… wrong” you admitted, with a small shrug.

Bakugou rolled his eyes at you, taking a step back. He looked at his wrist watch and then let out a big sigh.

“Fine. One hour. Then we’re going to your place” he sentenced, before turning around and walking towards the bathroom door. Your eyes widened.

“What?” you asked in disbelief. Bakugou stopped and turned his head at you.

“I’ll stop drinking to sober up. But in one hour, I’ll see you behind this building so we can go fuck at your place”. You figured your expression must have let him know more than you wanted to, because he laughed. “What? You don’t kiss like that when you don’t want to get fucked” he teased, before exiting the bathroom.

You couldn’t move at all for a few moments after that. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you pat your cheeks, trying to wake up from whatever lucid dream you were into.

But you didn’t wake up. Instead, you returned to the party and tried to appear as normal as you could. Forty five minutes after, you made up an excuse for leaving and went straight into the parking lot. You started your car and parked it on the back of the building.

This was insane, you told yourself, letting your head fall no the steering wheel. There was no way he was going to show up. He had been messing with you, angry you had rejected him, and now wanted to see how long you were supposed to wait. Well, if it was, at least you could keep the memory of Bakugou’s kiss on your memory.

A loud noise startled you, making you shot up your head in fear. You looked around and saw Bakugou knocking on your window. Letting out a relieved sigh, you unlocked the door and waited for him to get in. As you started your car again, you heard him laughing.

“For someone who’s driving me to her place to be fuck you sure seem nervous” he teased.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I planned to have Ground Zero kissing me in the ladies bathroom” you shot back, trying to get rid of the nervousness that was apparently so clear to him.

“It’s Bakugou” he said, putting his hands behinds his neck. “Now, carry on. I want my birthday present”. You scoffed at him, but kept driving.

Even then, you knew that man was going to be both your salvation and your punishment.

He had gone to your place multiple times, but his favourite place was the emergency staircase on the seventh floor. Bakugou enjoyed locking the doors and fooling around with you whenever you two had a break from work. A break which would end soon, you thought, it he kept silent and wouldn’t tell you why he had stopped kissing you.

“So?” you asked, pushing Bakugou’s chest with your index finger. When he set his eyes back on you, you looked at him questioningly.

“You know I’m just letting off steam, right?”

Bakugou didn’t expect you to laugh. You put your hand over your mouth to muffle the sound, shaking your head as you tried to calm down.

“Yeah, I kind of figured that long ago. You should know I’m not here because of your delightful conversational skills either, right?” you replied with a genuine smile. Bakugou chuffed and you pressed a soft kiss on his lips. “You’re a good fuck, Bakugou. So, if letting off steam is what you truly want… let me” you smirked.

With practised movements, you unlocked Bakugou’s belt. As you sank to your knees, you knew he would be gone not more than a minute after he came. But maybe that was why you were so into him. It was a thrill to know that you were the one who could make Ground Zero, one of the top heroes of the country, tremble and moan at your wish.

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #500 event

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cinnamonest · 3 years

Text

Makoto Naegi (DR) - Yandere Profile

Me? Producing non-genshin profiles? Releasing two profiles in one day? It’s more likely than you think!

I’ll probably do my boi Hajime eventually too. I got several dangan requests so I’m gonna start with this one and do those gradually too.

Makoto is the perfect classic, traditional yandere. He fits every trope and aspect of the archetype so well, so I just had to make him a delusional, split persona type. It's a bit ooc of course but I just see him being that type to really snap and have a whole new persona underneath. Bless him. I love soft sweet boys and turning them into nasty lil obsessive gremlins. Also I couldn't decide on a setting/version of him, so I talk mostly about a normal Makoto in normal school life, but also what he'd be like during the killing game as well as a side of Mastermind Makoto bc I'm a sucker for mastermind AUs. Note, he's 18 or older in all of these, of course.

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Tws: stalking, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, nsfw mentions, mentions of permanent mutilation, voyeurism Tws: (below cut) - voyeurism mention, noncon, Makoto being awful Additional warnings: very minor spoilers for Danganronpa 1

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

Bounces between lucidity and delusion. DR1 Makoto is probably largely influenced by the stress of, you know, threat of imminent death, but even outside of such a situation, he'd be a very well hidden yandere. He's just so sweet! So gentle! You can't really seem him as threatening at all, so a lot of subtle things might go unnoticed, like how touchy he can be, how his stares linger, how people seem to avoid you when he's around. However, while the yandere side isn't obvious, the crush certainly is. He's a blushing boy, will get flustered the moment you speak to him, is constantly stumbling over his words, nervously scratching the back of his head, looking all over everywhere except at you, eyes darting away.

Obsessive. It defines his yandere side. Everything is about the obsession, the worship, it's overwhelming. The desire to kidnap you is partially protective, sure, but really? He also just wants you close, he wants you all to himself, he could just be happy looking at you forever. Stalker for sure. He's a classic style stalker, one to take lots and lots of pictures. His phone is handy for the ones that need more of a... secretive approach, but for the ones that he can take safely, from a distance, or the ones of you sleeping, they look best in polaroids.

He would definitely be one to steal things, particularly clothes. Wait until you go to do your laundry, and when you're there he'll do something like pull the fire alarm, cause something to fall over, and wait for everyone else to leave or investigate before slipping in - surely you won't notice just a few pieces of clothes missing, right? Just some gym clothes you worked out in, they smell so much like you, and some underwear you won't miss. They're just cute is all. Not for any perverted purposes, nope. He'd have a shrine, too. He'd steal creepy shit like soda cans you threw away, pens you held. He'd use his phone or one of those cameras from the mono machine to get as many photos as possible, running over them late at night, going through each one and rubbing one out to every photo he can get of your soft, innocent expression.

Deceptively intelligent. It's his number one trick. He comes off as a very... average person in pretty much every way, it's literally his character trope at first, but as we know, he's actually particularly intelligent and perceptive. Most people don't realize this, though, and it gives him an advantage. He is aware that he's perceived as a bit of an innocent, naive airhead, and will utilize that perception, which allows him to get away with quite a bit by feigning ignorance or innocence.

A split personality bouncer. Classic yandere style. Sweet, innocent, happy, but if you just keep fucking pushing the limits he'll - no, forget that, it's ok, he understands :) ....THAT kind of yandere. He spends the majority of the time on the sweet side, but, especially as time goes on, can easily snap to a much meaner, darker persona, but it's not how he is the majority of the time. It's only brought out by excess stress from all of the... complication of things involving you.

Speaking of how he has all the makings of a classic yandere, delusional regarding love as well. Highly convinced that you'll love him eventually, convinced that everyone is out to take you away from him, and convinced that he knows what's best for you. Perhaps a bit surprisingly, he falls into this delusion pretty easily and quickly. He's likely got a bit of an inferiority complex given, you know, being the "normal" person among some of the best people in their fields. He likes the idea of anything that can give him a sense of importance, of value, of being needed, and he chooses to project that into your protection.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Normal schoolboy Makoto, well, he'd have to find a way. He wants to, really, the moment he meets you, but how can he do that? He lives in a dorm. If you went missing, surely they'd investigate the dorms right? He'd ultimately probably end up running away with you, finding some way to get by while he keeps you safely locked up in some tiny apartment somewhere.

As for the how, he would take a very traditional method. Ask you to meet him at a certain place and time behind the school, and you'll never see it coming, be it chloroform or a blunt object or whatever he chooses. You wouldn't suspect someone as sweet as him to ever be planning anything of the sort. He feels bad for hurting you, but it's for a greater purpose. Within minutes he'll have you stuffed in a sports bag or instrument case or something of the like, carrying you off, and no one will no where you could have gone.

Will definitely be that one that gets interviewed by the news on TV, the best friend of the poor girl that went missing, and he's all sniffly and teary while talking about how much he misses you, how he's so worried about you. He's actually a very good actor when he really, really needs to be. It's also his way of atonement, in a sense. If he can show how much he cares about you, even if it's in a situation where he's lying, it makes him feel better.

DR1 Makoto, well, he'll be virtually immediate. Don't you understand the gravity of the situation? You could DIE! He can't let that happen. You may be insistent that it's ok, that you want to all try and work together, but in his mind, you just don't understand how serious this all is. You're just too naive. The only solution is immediate action. He'll be gentle about it, probably lacing your tea or coffee with something he found laying around in the nurse's office to make you just a little bit sleepy, so dazed you won't even realize he's guiding you back to a room that isn't yours, won't even hear yourself being tied up.

If the others ask what happened to you, well, he'll say he has no idea. They'll likely assume you're simply dead. After all, if a body isn't discovered, how would there be a trial? They search and search but no one ever finds a body. How strange.

He might simply tell them you're paranoid and holed up in your room. It's ok, though, you trust him to bring you food, so they don't need to worry about you. As for the trials, well, you can't participate in those if you're unconscious, now can you?

As for MM! Makoto, well... Who's to say this isn't his way of kidnapping you? You're separated from that awful awful outside world. That's The whole point of it all, all of this was for you. To isolate you, and the game is simply to strike some fear in you, make you understand how evil and traitorous humans are. You'll never want to leave. And of course, he intends to play until there are two students left. Unfortunately for the others, the winners have already been... predetermined.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

Unfortunately for you, Makoto is one of those yans that is perfectly ok with your life consisting of being tied, 24/7, in one place. He'd keep you restrained at all times, with something soft of course! He doesn't want to hurt you, but it's for your own safety.

DR1 Makoto would constantly be coming back to the room to check on you, make sure you haven't left, make sure you're ok. He'd neglect all of his free time opportunities to talk to others and opt to come be with you instead.

Normal Makoto would invest in some special security measures, namely, a very special shock collar that he bought off of some sketchy site. It's made for humans! It has a lock with a code and everything. You honestly wonder why there's even a market for such a thing. It's not just light shocks, no, it has settings. It syncs to his phone, with a built in remote app, one he can push and it'll give you a nice shock of whatever level he sets it at.

However, the collar is also synched to a field of range that it will detect your location in. It's set perfectly to the boundaries of your little home. If you were to step outside the door or the window... Well, it's not going to kill you, but you'll be out cold, and he'll get a notification telling him you tried to leave. The first time, maybe, you can calm him down and convince him it was an accident, you tripped and crashed against the door and it just ever so lightly pushed you over the boundary. He'll believe it... Once.

Unfortunately, he's also one of the ones who sees no issue in permanent bodily modifications to deter you from leaving. He's not like some of the previous yans I've discussed, though, because it's not out of sadism or a lack of care for your feelings, it's a delusion thing. He'll be so sweet about it, reassure you that it's ok, it's for your own good, you're too precious and innocent and the outside world will hurt you, but this way you're safe from yourself and your own naivete. He'll be so, so careful and take such good care of you, he'll give you something strong so that you don't feel any pain at all.

He's also perfectly fine with you living in a constant drugged state, out of your mind, drowsy and completely unaware of anything in the world except him. And things are better that way - really, you can't say you're not happy, you seem so content like this. You don't complain, you don't get angry, you just giggle and smile and loll your head back and forth. You don't fight him. You just smile.

In other words, regarding escape, you might as well give up. Your only real chance is being rescued by someone else, someone who might just notice his increasingly odd behaviors, but if they believe you're dead, which he will go to great lengths to ensure you do, it's unlikely to happen. Any attempts will just be met with a sweet smile, a little laugh at how dumb you are to think that would really work, and quickly taking you back, where his demeanor might get significantly angrier once he can really let loose.

MM! Makoto is an equally unrealistic chance, the worst of all, really. It's just not happening. He'll also likely convince you, much like as the DR1 and V3 did, that the world outside is nearly destroyed, or somehow unlivable, that you're lucky to be here, and that this is the only place where you're safe.

If you try, he'll crack down on however the hell you managed to escape because... how would you even go about that? I mean, the whole environment was designed to be inescapable, and if a whole class of students couldn't find a way out, it's unlikely you will either. Any attempts will likely be dumb and unsuccessful enough that he can't even get mad, it's just amusing.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Oh, easy. We see in Chapter one of DR1 just how easily he will bend to the will of a girl he likes and nearly end up getting himself falsely accused of murder and all, so safe to say he's pretty easily manipulatable and if you're looking to survive, you can use that to your advantage. However, really, you're better off manipulating him into being a meatshield - he'll guard you 24/7 and be more than willing to die. Poor baby.

However, if he catches onto manipulation once, and it doesn't involve your safety, he'll learn pretty quick. Deep down he's a highly intelligent young man, and you may find the tables turning pretty quickly - he can easily manipulate your paranoia and mortal fear, convincing you that if you just stay with him, you'll be safe, convincing you that everyone else is out to get you, convincing you that this or that person is plotting to kill you. He's so sweet and innocent looking, you'll believe every word.

Bonus: If he were the mastermind, he'd be so deceitful and do it so well, you'd never know. An excellent actor through and through. In a way, it's not acting at all - he loves you and wants you to be safe. This is all so that you'll just understand that you need to be kept away from the outside world - you're actually perfectly safe, he's taken measures to ensure that, but you'd have no way of knowing. Even if you feel like those cameras in the rooms at night almost seem like they're staring right at you.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

Very few. He'll baby you and prevent you from doing most things for yourself. He'll be one to try and keep you entertained, though, most likely get you some kind of tablet or laptop you can use to write, let you play all of his games, let you watch anything, and get you any kind of materials for any hobbies you have, provided he's deemed it non-dangerous. So, given all of that, you don't need to do anything else, right? He'll see anything more as just you pushing your limits, because you're trying to be difficult again. Complaints go in one ear and out the other.

DR1 would be the worst Makoto to have, because he can't provide you with much, and can't lock you in from the outside... so, his primary go-to is gonna be keeping you completely restrained all the time. Don't worry, though, he assures you that once you guys get out of here, he'll take you away to a much nicer place with much more to do! But for now, you'll be getting very acquainted with his ceiling, left with nothing to do but stare up at it. He'll try to be around as much as he can though, and won't leave you for too long, only leaving when necessary. And for the trials you'll just... have a little nap, so it'll feel like no time really passed at all.

Ironically, MM! Makoto gives you the most leniency. He'll make sure anything dangerous is taken away, but then, he'll let you roam the abandoned, hollow shell of the school, whenever he has to work on something, which isn't too often. Of course, this is partially because he's got an eye on you via cameras every waking moment, so really, you feel his presence even when he isn't there.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

For a normal Makoto, he'd be one to give you a "schedule" to help you adjust. He doesn't want you getting depressed and laying in bed all day, it's bad for your health! He wants you happy and lively and that way you can have more fun together! He'll give you a list of very simple tasks to complete throughout the day. If you don't do them, that's ok, you can do them together when he comes back, but they will get done. Other than that, of course, no running away, no attacking him, and you know, just try to be a bit grateful and nice.

If you make him mad enough, he needs time to cool down, and he presumes you do, too. He's one to pull psychological things -- locking you in a dark, dark room with no light or sound for a long enough time, all alone, ignoring your cries and whimpers until he knows you've learned. But once you have, and if he sees the results have turned out as expected, he'll be sweet and affectionate when he takes you out, and tell you he's glad you see things his way now.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Normal Makoto, once again, we have a very classic yandere trope. He's delusional and in love and anyone who gets in the way will suffer. He's, again, very deceptively intelligent, and he can easily commit a murder, even a string of murders, that no one would ever be able to put together, and certainly that no one would ever suspect someone like him of committing. You could say it's like a talent of his. He has no guilt or remorse, either, and no value for the lives of people who are his enemies.

DR1 Makoto, He's limited to two people, unfortunately. If he had it his way, he would kill them all. But still, that's enough to win. He'll bide his time, setting things up so that hopefully, the more intelligent students get eliminated early. He has masterful ways of pulling strings here and there, planting ideas in people's heads, off handed comments that might just inspire a killing. Once there's only idiots left, well, once two of them go missing, in the most elaborate, confusing murders in the game thus far, they'll never figure it out.

Of course, he'll certainly find a way around the rules. He'll force the mastermind to have no choice but to let you both live. Injured students can't participate in trials if they're out cold, no? So if you have some minor bone breakage, get drugged conveniently before a trial begins, you can't participate. And if you didn't participate, it would really be upsetting to everyone watching if Monokuma killed off a student who couldn't even partake in the trial. After all, they might have been able to turn it around! So really, the mastermind has to let you both live.

Or maybe, he'll convince you to do it with him. Force the weapon into your hand, force it down on the poor poor victim, holding your hand in his. Monokuma can't prove you weren't putting some exertion into it, that it was all his force. Therefore, really, you both killed them. Therefore, the trial is against you both. Therefore... He can get rid of everyone in the way, all at once, with only one left to go - the person behind that bear. And he will find a way - you'd be foolish to underestimate his capabilities. After all, you always thought he was just a lil empty headed guy, shy and flustered, and look how wrong that was.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

In the "developing stages" of obsession, not so much. He's generally a sweet, easy-going guy, even a little bit of a doormat if we're being honest.

Normally, he gets pouty-mad, not violent-mad. Almost what some might call a girl-sort-of-mad, the kind where he huffs and pouts and pretends to ignore you. It's either kinda cute or infuriating, depending on your mood or how you view it. In that state, all you have to do is give him what he wants, of summon a quick apology, and he'll bounce back to normal and loving and affectionate nearly immediately. It's part of an immature streak he has.

He has his snap moments, and will snarl and growl at you with the most furious expression for just a mere moment -- but he snaps back to sweet and soft as quickly as he changed the first time. It's a little bit of mental whiplash for you, really. You almost feel like you imagined it. In those moments, though, he may just for those few instants get a little violent.

If he's truly furious, he gets quiet. It's a little terrifying, really, you know something is coming, and it's not pleasant. He'll likely just grab you and slowly, tortuously drag you to whatever he has planned. He'll give you a very grim, cold expression, and coldly tell you this is what you deserve, and if that's locking you up, he'll tell you you can come back out when you're ready to behave.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Above. He's a worshipper. He can't even believe he gets to be in your presence, even look at you, he's unworthy and it's all so overwhelming.

It... Gets annoying pretty quickly, actually. He's not gonna sit around and degrade himself all that much unlike SOME certain lucky students cough cough, but he'll constantly grovel and remind you how perfect you are. He's not good enough for you, he doesn't deserve you... a bit ironic to hear, since that certainly didn't seem to stop him from taking you away against your will, but there's a lot of hypocrisies that don't really line up with Makoto.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Highly so, but also deluded into thinking you do pretty easily. Even if you're screaming and yelling, he just thinks you're having a bad day, throwing a tantrum. He thinks you do love him, if you're in the later stages of things. Anything that conflicts with this delusion is explainable otherwise, usually the default being that, as usual, you're just being difficult, but that's ok -- he really loves you anyway.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Ironically, what makes him unique compared to my other yanderes is that he's more fitting for the traditional yandere type - a very cute-faced, psycho sweetheart type. He's highly prone to the classic yandere tropes and attitudes, as well as the mental and emotional instability traditionally associated with yanderes - smiling no matter what, even as he does awful things, but also snapping to a dark, angry state over the smallest things.

Guilt tripping. It's his specialty. He's so cute, so sweet, you wouldn't want to make him cry and make him sad... Would you? You're not that cruel, are you? You wouldn't throw away everything he's done for you and leave him all alone with no one... Right? He'll easily manipulate you this way, it's his specialty.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

The thing about those soft sweet boys that are just so innocent? Half the time they're the nastiest, horniest little pervs there are. He's sweet, he'll help you with everything you need! You're struggling to reach that shelf so he'll just put his hands on your hips and squeeze you and lift you up! But he'll stumble a bit, and when you come down you'll kinda land on him just a bit, chest pressed up against his face, and you'll be the one embarrassed - but it's ok. He says he knows you didn't mean to. And he's so sheepish and embarrassed about it himself, clearly it must have been unintentional.

And he's so innocent and kind, you know he doesn't mean to be so touchy, doesn't mean to cling to you so much, so you can brush it off. After all, he's just so nice, you wouldn't want to offend him.

Will jerk off on every single thing he has of you. Every little polaroid, every article of clothing he's stolen, every little thing. It's gross. He's gross. By the time you're kidnapped you might even find some of your clothes that went missing, and they're hard as a rock. Ew.

Like a lot of yans, will get significantly bolder once he has you all to himself. Much more touchy, much more suggestive, boldly, openly horny and just, constantly begging you to just fuck already, whining and even rutting into you if you're still in denial.

MM! Makoto will also 100% watch you get undressed through the cameras every night. Save the video feed and just watch it over and over again, taking in every little detail. Cum all over each little video, watching it drip down the screen. He can almost pretend it's actually dripping down your face, and not just the image of it.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

I... within the first hour of your confinement you're gonna know what this boy's dick feels like. He has no restraint. He just loves you so much! Hell, you might even wake up to him just, grinding into you, jerking off to you. You're just so pretty. You can't expect him to be too restrained, you know? He's so overcome by love for you that he can't help it.

High-level delusional. Will make up every reason in the world as to why you might be rejecting. You're nervous, it's ok, he'll help you get over it. You're insecure, and he'll help you get around that too. Ultimately, in the end, you're not getting out of it, nor putting it off at all really. It'll be the first thing you do to start off your new little lifestyle.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

D/S dynamic

Except... in a really weird way. It's the sub without the dom. Or not really submissive at all. It's a very bizarre dynamic you'll have going on - the way he talks to you is so submissive, so sweet, constantly asking you if you feel good, constantly whimpering and making the cutest little noises, constantly worshipping you, you'd almost forget he has you tied up and is forcing you through it. He acts submissive in his own way, and yet he's completely controlling you. In fact, you're pretty certain he wouldn't actually let you top him in any way, and any attempts to do so will be met with him denying you, telling you to just let him do what he wants take care of you. His attitude and words are submissive, yet he insists on controlling you completely. It's, again, bizarre in its own way, but what isn’t bizarre with this man.

Oral fixation

A guilty one for him, with his whole service attitude and all, because he really likes to be on the receiving end of it. Cumming down your throat is fine and all, but really he's one to pull out and cum all over your face. Bonus points if you wear lip gloss to smear all over his dick, wear glasses he can get cum on, or anything that makes it feel special.

In his rare angry, more dominant moments, he can get kind of rough with it. If he's really mad at you, hearing you choke is a rather satisfying feeling.

Paizuri/Thigh fucking/outercourse

The boy's seen too much porn. Just, pleeeeeeease let him cum on your tits. Please. He begs for it over and over, doesn't matter if you tell him yours are too big or too small, he just really wants to cum on them. He just wants to feel your smooth skin on his dick you know? Maybe he can get the tip in your mouth while you do it too!

And while you're at it... Let him fuck your thighs. Please? Just hold your legs together, not hard right? There's just something about actually seeing his dick against you that makes it so nice, and so temptingly close to your holes. But if you've agreed to it as a way of preventing actual sex, it might just... accidentally go in anyway. It was just too slippery... but now, he's already fucking you so... might as well keep doing that instead.

Cockwarming/activity-sex

Our boy likes his vidya. And you know all those jokes and references to, you know, getting sucked off under the table while he plays games....? He just... really, really would like that. It's a big fantasy for him. He's probably the type of guy to be way too into league of legends dammit and he just, would love to have to try to be quiet, try to get off down your throat while trying not to alert anyone that can hear through his mic. Or just sit on his dick, it's heavenly, he'll gradually just lost control and start losing his game, before eventually cutting it off and exiting altogether in favor of rutting up into you. He likes it, but he doesn't have a whole lot of self-control to actually do it for long before giving up and just fucking you.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He's one of the ones that really wants it, he thinks it would be so cute, so precious, and of course the benefit of it tying you to him. He might be one to get a bit jealous, though. He likes your attention, and can be a little bit immature about it. Unfortunately, though, he's not actually aware of his own immaturity, so this can present a problem.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

(Insert "iiiiits punishment time!" joke here)

If he's in this mode, an angry mood, his demeanor for sex changes significantly. The weird pseudo sub attitude isn't really there, it's more of a quiet neutrality, a frustrated, but calculated anger that brings out the worst in him. It's honestly frightening for you in and of itself because it's such a dark expression and rough voice and so unfamiliar that it would freak you out just to see him like that.

The go-to is impact pain. In this rare-ish mood, he can actually change pretty significantly -- normally, he'd never dream of hurting you, would feel awful if he did, and would not enjoy it in any way, but now? He kinda... feels like you deserve it, and he'll undeniably get off to it a bit. Something about watching you cry and squirm really helps alleviate the anger. He'll be soft about it later, wipe away your tears and softly murmur nice things... but he won't apologize. You deserved it. If it's that bad, then you'll just have to not do it again.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

A thigh boy. Let him use your lap as a pillow, and he'll be a very happy boy indeed. He likes feeling them wrapped around his hips, or his head, likes squeezing the flesh in his hands, likes running his hands up and down.

#yandere x reader #yandere danganronpa #yandere makoto #yandere naegi #tw: noncon #tw: dark content

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seiya234 · 4 years

Text

thunder only happens when it’s raining

for @feferipeixes, even if they’re a big jerk who calls me out on my tropes.

Prompt: “Dipper, pre-2012, has intermittent visions of the far, far future. He doesn't understand them and he's scared.”

To be honest, by the time the twins were two, Anna slept through any noises that she heard from their baby monitors.

Not that she thought that they really needed them any more but it had taken them such a long time to get the kids on a decent sleep schedule, and they were still having to give a bottle to Mabel to get her to sleep and shit her teeth were going to come out all fucked up and it made Mark feel better and...

Well. Anyway. Being the mother of twins meant as a defense mechanism Anna Pines had trained herself to sleep through any weird bed noises she heard the kids doing at this point in order that she could get some sleep.

The bloodcurdling scream that came from Dipper’s monitor at two am however? That not only had her awake, but tripping over the blanket in her hurry to get out of bed and into his room, her heart thumping painfully in her chest because what was wrong with him, what was wrong with him?

(this wasn’t I woke up and I don’t like it. this wasn’t even I had a nightmare. this was adult fear. Anna couldn’t tell you how she knew that until it was far too late.)

She ran into his room and turned on the light, not even caring about keeping the light low to help ease him back to sleep, she needed to see him, she needed to make sure he was okay.

Outwardly, he was fine, though he all but leapt out of the crib in his attempt to get at her, soft baby fat cheeks glistening with tears. She picked him up, and he nuzzled into her chest. Anna laid her face on Dipper in turn, smelling the sweat of the playground in his hair, the spit on his pajama collar, the playdoh under his nails...everything that made him him.

“Baby, did you have a bad dream?”

“Reh!”

Anna’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying... red?”

“Reh! Reh! Red! Reh!”

That was definitely what Dipper was saying. But what could he have dreamt of that was red that scared him so? A fire truck? Strawberries? Blood?

Wait. Blood? No. No that was ridiculous. He had barely ever seen blood, how would Dipper know what that was?

Anna sighed as she sat down in the rocker with her still crying son. “I told your daddy that Clifford the Big Red Dog was going to scare you. It’s okay. Momma’s got you now.”

(if Dipper was twelve instead of two, he could have told his mother that he had a dream where he was covered in blood. swimming in blood. drinking blood. drinking and laughing and crying blood and everything, everything was fucking blood.

But Dipper was two and all he knew was he didn’t know what he just dreamt about, just that he didn’t like it.)

----

"Fuck, kid, you look like Ford at this age.”

Dipper looked up from the blocks that he was stacking impossibly tall. “Bad word,” he said primly.

The woman in the long purple dress started and looked at him. She looked different than anyone Dipper knew in his life. She had big chunky gold earrings and smelt weird and had a short stick in her hand that gave off smoke like one of the candles Daddy would occasionally light.

“Kid, you shouldn’t be able to see me.”

“Why not?” Dipper knew that dreams were a time where he could do whatever he wanted.

(”ah, lucid dreaming my boy! a valuable skill,” a grand uncle told him years later, before the world ended)

“Because you don’t have the right eyes,” she said. “Look, I’m going to go and figure this out, you be a good boy now you hear?”

----

“WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL IF IT ISN’T PINE TREE.”

“You’re a triangle,” Dipper pointed out, slightly disgruntled. He had been having a very good dream, one where he was allowed to eat a second and third slice of cake, and he wanted very much to return back to that.

“WHAT’S THE MATTER? CAT GOT YOUR TONGUE?”

Dipper knew without knowing how that as soon as the weird triangle snapped his fingers something bad and owwy would happen to his mouth. Dipper did not want that to happen. So he looked at the mountain in the distance and pulled stepped back before the triangle got near him.

The triangle snapped. Then he snapped again. Then his eye got angry looking when Dipper just started eating cake while watching him.

“SO! YOU THINK YOU’RE CLEVER DON’T YOU?”

Dipper didn’t answer. He wanted to take advantage of eating as much red cake as he could before he had to wake up.

“WELL, I GOT PLANS FOR YOU DIPPER PINES! B͟I͙G̱̖̭̞̩̗̙ ̴͚̹̘͚̝̥P̩̝̞LA̕Ņ͍͇̤̮̘͔̳S͈̜. A STORM IS CO-”

“Are you going to keep shouting or do you want some cake?”

The triangle stopped talking for a second, twirling his cane in thought, and then said, “SURE. I’LL HAVE SOME CAKE. EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BURN SOON ANYWAY.”

“You make no sense.”

“I MAKE PLENTY OF SENSE! YOU JUST DON’T KNOW IT YET!”

----

At the end of every month Dipper and Mabel’s teacher would pack up all the drawings they did in their pre-k class and send it home with them.

Mark was of mixed feelings about this. On one hand he enjoyed his children’s drawings and seeing what was going on in their heads. On the other hand, they insisted on having all of their drawings either pinned on all the walls or saved.

(anna threw a few away once, mabel found them in the trash, and there was no living with the twins for a week after.)

And then there was the subject matter....

For Mabel, everything was on fire. Everything. Every thing. She drew an apple tree... but on fire. She drew their visit to their grandparents... on fire. Their kitchen... on fire. Mabel and Dipper playing... with a fire in the background.

The teacher assured them that was normal, a lecture on fire safety having stuck in Mabel’s mind....

He couldn’t explain Dipper’s drawings to Mark however.

There was blood (it was very definitively not just coloring with only the red crayon.) There were rudimentary organs (and how did Dipper know what the liver looked like? Mark asked and Dipper was uncomfortable and then started to cry and Mark felt like a dick.) There were knives and candles and shapes that made Mark’s head hurt.

Mark knew what the problem was.

He resolved to ask his Dad to stop letting the kids watch Unsolved Mysteries.

(but he knew deep inside that that wasn’t really the reason why.)

----

“Dipper there’s a lady here.”

Dipper looked up to see the lady in the purple dress again.

“Hello,” he said politely, before going back to building a sand castle with his sister.

“That’s... that’s really your sister.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Mabel murmured, filling a bucket with wet sand.

“Huh.” The lady tapped out her weird smoking thing, and brought it to her lips before speaking again. “I should have guessed there would be some bleed over. Any way kid- look, what’s your name?”

“He’s Dipper and I’m MABEL!” Mabel said, pulling Dipper around the neck for a big hug.

“Huh. And you two are-” her eyes unfocused for a second- “Shermie’s kid’s kids.”

“You know Grandma?!”

Dipper didn’t know until now that a smile could be sad. “Yeah, I sure do. Look, I came here to say that I figured out your-” she pointed at Dipper, “deal.”

Dipper didn’t say anything, because he didn’t understand and he knew Mabel would do it for him.

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, so, your shit’s fucked darling. Totally ass over teakettle bad. Sorry lovey but, that’s just how it’s going to be. That’s how you can even see me.”

None of this made any sense to Dipper, though he saw Mabel mouthing along to what the lady in purple was saying and saving the Bad words for later.

There was a moment of silence and then Mabel asked “So.. Things bad?”

“Yes.”

“Why you tell us then?”

The lady in purple looked at them for a solid minute without saying anything. The stick in her mouth dropped on the ground and she ground her foot over it.

“I...Fuck, I’m sorry kids. Look, do you want a candy cigarette?” She proffered two sticks to them and they took them.

(yes she was a stranger. But this was Dipper’s dream and they would always be safe in here, and also...Dipper had the feeling she was and wasn’t a stranger. Not really.)

The weird lady ran her fingers through her hair.

“Look kids... Christ, I was never good with talking to kids. Barely managed talking to my own, and look how-”

She saw their blank looks, and said “Never you mind that. I guess just... look, not gonna lie Mason-”

“Dipper.”

“-Dipper, things look really, really rough for you going ahead. But-” And now she kneeled down until she was eye level with him, and her hands were on his shoulders, and her nails were digging into his skin and it was uncomfortable but he didn’t let it bother him because he knew, somehow, that this was Important.

“The bad? And trust me, there’s a whole lot of that, but....It’s outweighed by the good, I promise.”

She turned to look at Mabel, who was currently eating sand because she could get away with that in dreamland.

“She’s a lot of your good. But remember to not only rely on her for your good. That’s not fair to her. And that’s not fair to you. Promise... Can you promise me to remember that?”

“I promise.”

The woman in purple looked into his eyes, then grimaced. “No. No. No, you’re going to forget that, you won’t remember, you won’t listen-”

Her hands began to hurt.

“I’m- I’m sorry-”

She paused. Her hands released from his shoulders, and instead she grabbed him into a hug.

“Bubbeleh. My love. You never, never have to apologize to me, okay? There’s.... there’s so much that will happen to you but here and now, don’t apologize, okay? It will be okay, okay?”

She was crying and Dipper didn’t understand, and he looked at Mabel and he could tell that she didn’t understand either so all he said was, “Okay,” and let the weird lady who was weird yet kind of like Grandma Shermie hug and cry on him.

---

By the time Dipper was in kindergarten, the dreams had ended.

That was probably for the best.

#transcendence au #seiya writes!

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shimeiro · 3 years

Text

1- Jean Jacket (Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader

- Part 1 - Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader

┃Next Part┃- ┃Masterlist┃

( a / n : I don't know if it's my love for clothes in vintage thrift stores that made me create this story or just my love for that asshole Maxwell but ... Yeah, we'll all see how it goes I guess? (Alistair does not exist in this story so no Father Max sorryyyy) )

Warnings : None ?

Words : 2275

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

Your life was rather quiet and pleasant, you like your job as a saleswoman in a big and quite famous second-hand store in the neighborhood, the vintage clothes are in good condition and the stock is renewed every day so new pieces from the 60's to the 90's make their appearance on the shelves and the hangers of the store full of clothes, Shoes, accessories... Your status as a saleswoman gives you the right to be one step ahead of the store's regulars to choose clothes you like for half the price and that alone makes your job so nice. Just yesterday you managed to find a real denim jacket from the 80's, and as everyone in this store knows: each piece is unique and when you manage to find something you like it becomes a bit of a treasure just for you because no one will find exactly the same thing in the whole store.

Today you decided to come to work with your new jacket, it's a little big for you but the oversize side is very fashionable at the moment, your work doesn't require a proper outfit and the boss himself wears very extravagant and colorful outfits, this man is adorable and full of life which makes the atmosphere at work great. So, your outfit of the day consisting of a black strapless crop top in fabric that holds your breasts does not leave much to the imagination because you are not wearing a bra underneath - necessarily a bustier. - but more and more women do not wear a bra and you're lucky that you don't have boobs that don't necessarily require a bra so you take advantage.

But for some people it seems vulgar even though it's summer and the sun is scorching outside and yes women can wear crop tops and no bra, but with your jacket and your high waist jeans that hide your belly button make the outfit modern and vintage at the same time with your wedge ankle boots found a month ago at the bottom of a cardboard box in the store's reserve. But if this is really neccesary you can close your jacket if you feel that some men will become too... agressive in front of a bar when you come home tonight. Women life...

You feel especially pretty today thanks to your new jacket, the new clothes have the power to make you happy the first time you wear them so you walk confidently towards work while the soft air of the sunny summer morning makes a few strands of your hair twirl to the rhythm of your steps while the music in your headphones makes the street atmosphere you taking every day almost magical.

A strange feeling has been gripping your heart since you left home, it feels like some kind of strange nostalgia and you can't really understand why you suddenly feel this way for no apparent reason, maybe it's because when you left home and put your hand in the pocket of your new jacket you found a small piece of paper yellowed by the years, you immediately found it strange because normally when the clothes arrive at the store they are cleaned because most of the clothes come from people who give them to the store to resell them because they used to clutter up their parents' or grandparents' attics or garages sometimes. So finding a paper in a pocket of your jacket is surprising but not impossible.

But when you carefully unfold the little piece of paper it is the sentence written on it that stirred something in you, it's just a few words written with a black pen:

« Can't Take My Eyes off You. » It's the lyrics of an old song but you felt something strange while reading the paper, maybe it's because of your small - big - hypersensitivity and your romantic side but since reading this old paper - which was clearly meant for the former owner of the denim jacket - you feel this strange feeling. You get out of your thoughts when the music you are listening to ends and another one randomly launches from the playlist in your phone but the earphones start to sizzle in an unusual way, you sigh with annoyance because you bought them no more than two weeks ago, and having music while walking alone outside has become almost more of a necessity than a habit, Having music in your ears almost makes you feel like you're in another world when you're walking and it makes you forget your slight discomfort when you find yourself in crowded streets or a bus full of strangers invading your personal space.

Suddenly you feel a violent vertigo that forces you to stop walking and your earphones sizzle even louder so you have to quickly remove them from your ears before they pierce your eardrums or something like that. You open your eyes gently and don't even notice that you closed them first, your head spins a little and you feel a little nauseous for a few more seconds and then the world stabilizes again and you look around you with incomprehension, you don't know at all the street you're on right now.

You look frantically from left to right hoping to find something familiar, a store, a café, a sign, anything that would help you find your way, but you find yourself in a big, completely unknown avenue that doesn't even look like an avenue that the city where you live might have. You feel your body warmth rise a notch when panic starts to creep into your mind when you realize that absolutely everything seems unknown, the cars are all old American cars, the people walking down the street all seem to be going out in old fashion stores from the 80's, even their hairstyles.

You feel like you're in a movie.

Your brain rushes to try to rationalize the situation you're in to try to prevent you from having a panic attack in the middle of a street crowded with people looking at you weirdly, if only you had your headphones and relaxing music to make you think about something else ... But yes your phone! A wave of relief comes over you when you take your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans, just having it in your hands right now makes you want to cry with joy, you quickly retreat until your back is against the wall of a building and you are no longer in the passage of the street crowded with people who look at you as if you had a second head. You don't even look at the building you're leaning against and you quickly press the button on your phone to turn it on, but once the screen lights up he flashes frantically it's impossible to unlock it and call someone.

« What the hell ... Please ..! » You whisper in a trembling voice as you feel your breath accelerating, the stupid phone has absolutely no mercy for you even though you desperately try to make it work properly by turning it on and off, You have a glimmer of hope when the image on your wallpaper - an adorable picture of Mando with his green baby from The Mandalorian series - stabilizes enough for you to unlock it and access your contacts, you were going to text your position to your colleague and friend Daisy to beg her to come and pick you up in car but suddenly the screen goes completely off and you can't turn it back on.

« No no no no no no no… » You swear that you can feel your heart stop beating for a few moments because of the black screen of your only hope in this nightmare. Yes nightmare, you must certainly be in full dream and you will wake up nice and warm in your bed and Roucky your long-haired red cat will come and purr in your ear for you to wake up and give him food and then ... You are startled when you hear someone clearing their throat insistently right in front of you, it must have been a little while that person has been trying to get your attention and you hadn't even noticed their presence. You raise your head gently with a little smile on your lips to try to hide your internal panic, a salesperson reflex when you are lost in your thoughts while a customer wanted to attract your attention. But your smile fades when you finally see the person right in front of you with his arms crossed over a large chest dressed in a three-piece sky-blue suit, a smirk on his lips and an eyebrow raised in a questioning manner. Maxwell Lord.

Wait...

Maxwell Lord?!

What the fuck ?!

He is literally a fictional character who is played by your favorite actor Pedro Pascal, and he is there in front of you and his deep brown eyes are staring at you with a kind of fun and curiosity not hidden, you it looks strongly like a dream but everything seems far too realistic in a same time, you can smell his masculine perfume and certainly the smell of his aftershave if he was even closer, you hear the noise of the passers-by behind him. Yeah It's really much too realistic.

Instinctively you look down on the hand that is not holding your phone to observe the palm of your hand and your fingers, usually when you have a doubt in a dream about the reality of the situation you are in and if you are in a dream your hand will be anything but normal, a finger in addition or something else and after that you know that you are in a dream what leads you to make a lucid dream and thus to be able to control more or less the continuation of your dream, it is besides often amusing but there your hand is completely normal even if you fix it for a long time.

« Mmh, it's the first time a woman has ignored me like this. »

You quickly raise your head and open your eyes, and Pedr-Maxwell still looks at you, but this time his hands are in his pants pockets.

« Oh- I'm sorry I'm... I'm... in need of sugar! So- I almost fainted so uh... I'm slowly coming to my senses? So... I'm gonna go buy a sugary drink and... I'll feel better. »

You're aware your voice shakes at times when you tell your half lie to the beautiful man in front of you, you almost fainted when you... landed here. But you weren't going to tell him that you were technically from the future, were you? But this world doesn't really exist because it's from a movie but... Yeah...?

You probably had to convince him with your lost and panicked look and his brown eyes seem to soften slightly he looks at you from top to bottom - maybe lingering too much on your black top - then he looks on your phone that you still hold in your right hand, he looks at it curiously but he doesn't say anything and then his eyes go back to your face, it's really weird to see her in front of you after the fanfictions you read about him when you haven't even seen the movie Wonder Woman 1984, in fact the whole situation is weird, you always laughed and said to yourself that if you were in the world of one of the characters you love and you met him you might try to be enterprising and enjoy the moment but right now you're just completely lost and scared.

« Need sugar huh? My assistant was going to get me a coffee, » He takes his left hand out of his pocket and makes a lazy wave with his hand, the gold rings on his fingers shine with the sun's rays, barely he make his gesture a beautiful blonde woman with curves worthy of the muse of an expensive lingerie brand appear next to him.

« Yes Mr. Lord? »

« Usual coffee and something with sugar. »

Her assistant seems slightly irritated when she looks in your direction but she picks herself up when she looks at her boss again.

« What kind of sweet thing Mr. Lord? »

Her tone leaves a kind of innuendo, and you can imagine that as in some fanfictions you read Maxwell must fuck his assistants out of ease, and this beautiful woman with perfect breasts must surely be one of them, Maxwell doesn't pick up the innuendo and doesn't even look at her.

« You bring it back to my office in 5 minutes. »

She stutters a little: "Yes Mr. Lord" while throwing you a murderous look as if it was your fault that her boss was like that, but you are not irritated or hurt by the look of this assistant you are just still in the fog, maybe you really have something sweet finally to clear your mind a bit.

You feel knuckles brushing against your cheek, Maxwell freezes when you look up at his face and his eyes darken for a split second and then he clears his throat and quickly removes the hand that just brushed against your face.

« Follow me, I wouldn't want a young woman to pass out in front of the Lord Industry building. »

You hadn't even paid attention to the building right behind you in your panic to try to get out of this situation but now you've drawn Maxwell Lord's attention and you don't know if it's a good thing in the supernatural situation you're in.

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord x you #ww84 #wonder woman 1984 #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #maxwell lord fanfiction #fanfiction #no y/n #no spoilers #i haven't seen the movie #no canon

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sunsetinmyvein · 3 years

Text

This is the Story of How They Met

Neeeeext request! From the lovely @canyousevmyheavydirtysoul off the prompt liiiiist.

I had thought, at the time of changing jobs, that becoming a server at weddings would be fun. A nice change of pace from the standard restaurant, slightly higher pay for it being a little bit fancier, people there for a good time instead of people working desk jobs on their rushed lunch break - it seemed like a sweet gig. But, as it so turned out, it was just busy. There would be huge breaks of no work at a time, but on the days where you had a job? Oh, boy. It was insane. So much prep work, constant running around, long shifts. No wonder there was a higher pay, this shit was difficult. And where I had thought that the clientele would be nicer given that they were all at a seemingly happy event, no. That was not the case at all. There were the disgruntled distant relatives (in contrast to the often overly jovial immediate family members), the jealous friends, the lonely singles, and the stragglers that were never really sure why they’d been invited in the first place. It was, in fact, an often shitty crowd to deal with.

But I didn’t have a huge amount of time to dwell on that as I was handed the first tray of appetizers to give out. It was go time, time to break out the customer service smile. The reception was already pretty well underway, most people already taking advantage of the generous free bar that was set up. I was doing my first round of the room when a guy stopped me, clearly wanting to have a chat.

“Having a good evening?” He asked with a smile as he grabbed one of the meatballs off of the tray.

“It looks like a nice wedding.” I replied, deflecting the question instead of giving an honest answer.

“It’s okay, I guess, uh…” He shrugged before pausing and glancing at my shirt in an effort to spot a name. “No name tag?” He asked with a confused frown.

“This isn’t a diner, it’s a wedding.” I said with a short laugh. “People are meant to be paying attention to the happy couple, they don’t need to know who’s serving them.”

“But I’d like to.” He shot back smoothly, adjusting his tie slightly.

I eyed the name on the printed card in front of his plate: Pete Wentz. The two empty beer glasses in front of him also caught my attention. “Well, Pete-” He seemed surprised at my knowledge of his name. “maybe another time when I’m not in the middle of a shift.” I said, brushing past his chair and continuing to hand out these ridiculously overpriced meatballs.

“Is that a promise?” He called after me.

After that, every time I went near his table, he made a point to try and speak with me. I shouldn’t have humoured him, should’ve just left it. But he seemed charismatic and interesting and honestly something entertaining at this dull wedding was sorely needed. The couple were acting like this was an arranged marriage for how lively they were being at their own wedding reception. This man, Pete, appeared to have been relegated to the table of people they felt guilty enough to invite but didn’t really want to be here, shoved in the back corner of the room.

“You should sit for a while.” Pete said as I came by with the first course. He was beginning to get a slight slur in his voice, which was unsurprising given the number of free drinks I’d seen him grab throughout the evening.

“Even if I wasn’t at work right now,” I sighed as I set his plate down, “there is nowhere to sit. There’s literally a seating plan.” I was surprised that nobody at his table had said anything about his antics.

“I’m sure I could make some space on my chair.” He said slyly as he pushed it out and patted his lap. I couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

“Nice try.”

“Worth a shot.” He winked.

“On the note of shots, want to have a shot with me?” He offered, face lighting up at the idea.

“I’m working.” I said with a roll of my eyes.

“Nobody has to know.” He whispered overly loudly.

“I’d know.” I chuckled.

“Come ooooonnnn.”

“I can get you a shot.” I compromised.

He let out a reluctant groan. “I guess I’ll have to settle for that.”

“Tequila?” I suggested.

“It’s like you already know me so well.” He said wistfully as I wandered off.

Pete didn’t seem to be that bad of a guy. A ridiculously brazen guy who was getting himself really drunk at this wedding, but not a bad one. It looked like he was a fairly well-groomed sorta person, his suit was neatly pressed, his black hair cut and styled nicely. Through passing conversation, it was revealed that he had gone to high school with the groom and that they were best friends back in the day, but hadn’t spoken in over five years. As a result, he really had no idea why he was here tonight. Or why he had even RSVP’d. He was entertaining, but was also doing a good job at preventing me from working.

“If you’re not gonna sit, or drink, then dance with me?” Pete pouted at me as I cleared his dessert plate. He was truly drunk now. I’d seen him get up a few times and stumble over his own feet on the way to the bathroom.

“No.” I shook my head.

“Why?” He whined. His table was mostly empty now, people having either gotten up to dance or gone home.

“Still at work.” I reminded him.

“When are you not at work?” He asked, leaning his head on his hand and staring up at me.

“When the wedding is finished?” I replied in confusion.

“Well, what are you doing then?” He questioned.

“What?” I asked, watching as his head slipped off his hand and nearly hit the table. I reached my hand out to help him, but he quickly recomposed himself.

“When the wedding is finished? Are you busy?” He continued, acting like that didn’t just happen.

“Fuck me…” I mumbled under my breath. It was gonna be harder to get away from him now that dessert was finished - I didn’t have as much work to use as an excuse at this point in the evening. It was mostly just washing up.

“Really?” He grinned smugly.

“No, absolutely not.” I said quickly, eyes wide in surprise.

“You sure?” He teased. “I’d be down for that.”

“I’m certain you would.” I nodded.

I went to walk off, but he caught my arm before I could.

“Seriously, though,” Pete started, “would you wanna meet up sometime?” He suggested, all air of cockiness gone. I met his gaze, trying to judge whether he was in his right mind to be making such offers. For how much I had seen him drink, he should be pretty fucking wasted, but he seemed pretty lucid in this moment.

“I suppose it would have to be more interesting than what this wedding has been.” I resigned quietly.

He instantly broke out into a bright grin. “Are you free Thursday?” He asked as he scrawled his number down onto his napkin.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Great! I’ll come grab you at six?” He suddenly seemed like a kid in a candy store, so ridiculously eager.

“Sure.” I smiled.

“Okay.” He said decisively, before standing up. “I promise I’ll be more sober then, but for now I’m gonna go throw up.” He was entirely straight faced as he said it, and then began stumbling to the bathroom. I watched in bewildered amusement, before deciding it would probably be a nice thing to do to make sure that he had a glass of water to come back to at his table to try and sober him up some.

#Pete Wentz x Reader #Susetinmyvein #Sunsetinmyvein prompts #Sunsetinmyvein requests

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liloelsagranger · 3 years

Text

Chapter 9: The wash (Viridian Love Story - Pokémon fanfiction)

Finally, finally a new chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 9: The wash

Misty stared at them in disbelief. “What is the wash? Is it dangerous?” she wanted to know, even though she could already guess the answer. Jessie and James nodded in agreement, Jessie was the first to find words again and explain the facts.

“The wash is performed by Hypno. As the name suggests, he hypnotizes his victims and makes his way into their memory. All memories that could either be useful or pose a threat to Team Rocket are extracted and preserved, but the prisoners are left without any memory of their past and eke out an existence as lifeless shells, like ghosts”, she explained.

If there was still a small glimmer of hope in Misty, it had just been extinguished. She slumped down and sobbed. Ash carefully put an arm around his friend. This could not be her definite fate. Her family was perhaps still alive, but could no longer remember their own daughter?

“Is there any way to reverse the hypnosis so that the memory comes back?” Ash asked. James fussed, not wanting to give them false hope, yet he had heard of some rumors. “There are reports of people who have been hypnotized but still have occasional lucid moments and can remember their past lives. At least that is what I heard when we once accidentally barged into a conference”, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Meowth, that’s right. I can confirm that, because it was all about a planned escape attempt by a prisoner who could suddenly remember everything. Unfortunately, they were able to catch him and he is now serving an even harder sentence in the maximum security section of the prison.”

Misty had to let all the information sink in. Her head was about to explode, there was so much they had to consider if they wanted to save her parents. But she was determined to give everything and, if necessary, to put her own life on the line.

“I’d say let’s got for it! Ash, Brock, are you with me?” The guys nodded their heads. Now Misty turned to Team Rocket.

“I know we haven’t always been best friends, we have our differences, we have our strengths and weaknesses, but now is the time for a truce because this is a matter of life and death. You bring the necessary know-how; I bring the longing for my family. Only together can we face this adventure. Even though we didn’t always get along, I ask you to help me out; and believe me, this is anything but easy for me”, a faint smile flitted across Misty’s face. James returned the smile and held out his hand to her.

“We’re in! But I warn you, it will be dangerous, very dangerous! We risk our heads if they catch us, but at least one of us deserves the security of a loving family,” thus the matter was decided and they started the journey.

After several hours of hiking, it was finally time to take a break and have some dinner. Brock, who continued to hone his cooking skills, offered to prepare a meal for his friends that they would never forget. But he needed everyone’s help and support to make it a real feast. James and Meowth had volunteered to gather firewood and had only recently set out into the dark woods. The cat Pokémon noticed days ago that James had woken up on the wrong side of the planet. The guilty conscience gnawed at his teammate and almost made him despair.

“You need to talk to her!” Meowth insisted that James would finally talk turkey, but the young man was not up to the challenge yet. James heaved a deep sigh.

“You know, Meowth, sometimes I wish Hypno would cast a spell on me too and erase all memories of my messed up childhood and adolescence. By that I mean the terrible time with my parents, the bad days and weeks with Jessiebelle, the beatings, the torture, the endless hours of piano lessons, the bullying, the desperate attempts of my environment to educate me to become a gentleman.”

It was hard for James to talk about these things, but Meowth knew the answer to his problem. He made his friend pause and put a paw on his shoulder.

“Jessie can help you with all your worries. She is your safe rock, and you can always rely on her. She has never let you down, even when you ignored her feelings or stepped on them. She likes you, James, everyone can see that. You must finally dare to talk to her”, Meowth wanted to be persuasive. ”You’re right, my friend. Tonight, I will face my fears.”

The adventurers enjoyed their festive meal. Brock had outdone himself, there were mashed potatoes, rice balls, steak and sausages, chocolate pudding with fresh strawberries and a cream cake garnished with cherries. Team Rocket’s stomachs growled; they hadn’t eaten something so delicious in years. A few hours passed, during which the new acquaintances talked about old times, about every botched trap Team Rocket had ever set for the twerps, about all the funny costumes they had used to fool Ash, Misty and Brock. There was a lot of laughter and some tears were shed too.

Ash yawned heartily. “I’m going to bed. Tomorrow will be another busy day”, he pulled Misty with him and they disappeared into their three-person-tent, which they shared with Brock. Their friend followed them shortly afterwards and Meowth made himself comfortable in the thicket of trees. Only Jessie and James were left.

No one dared to take the first step, but then James finally found words. “Jessie,” he began. She looked at him with her big sapphire blue eyes. “Yes?”

James cleared his throat. He reached for her hand and stroked it vey gently, running his fingers along her delicate hand. He was already fighting tears, he wanted to stay strong, but the emotions got the better of him.

“It’s okay, James,” Jessie caressed his face, but James shook his head.

“No! Nothing’s okay,” he sobbed. “I almost lost you once, I don’t want that to happen to me again. I felt what it means not to have you by my side anymore and it hurt inhumanly. It ate at me and I could no longer grasp a clear thought. Then you came back to me and the world was all right again. I had not lost you to that doctor. And what do I do? I take advantage of you and your feelings, I hurt you and put the blame on you. I’m so sorry for everything, Jess. You’re all I’ve got! You’re my guardian angel, you saved me from Jessiebelle and I can’t be grateful enough!” Tears ran down his cheeks, James’ eyes were red from all crying.

“Will you forgive me, Jess?” There was still the faintest hope in his request. Jessie smiled gently at him and nodded. Suddenly, all the weight that threatened to crush him was blown away. He felt so free and light-hearted. He would have loved to kiss his best friend, caress her and hold her tightly in his arms, but Jessie had already sunk into a deep sleep. So he interlaced his fingers with hers until he too began to dream.

#pokemon #teamrocket #fanfiction #rocketshipping #james #jessie #ash #satoshi #musashi #kojiro #meowth #nyarth #takeshi #misty #brock #update #viridianlovestory #fanfic #chapter #new

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