#tried a new rendering style with his teeth

[daily-tangotek-doodles]

love your tnago.... could i perhaps see him teefs?

{124}

Him teefs

[freddy-and-friends-au]

The band’s all here! (WIP)

I still haven’t finished their new endoskeletons yet, but I think I have their suits mostly down!

Feel free to ask any questions you may have in the inbox!

EXTRA INFO AND SCREENSHOTS UNDER THE CUT!!!

At first glance, these are obviously inspired by the traditional Chuck E. Cheese x Rockafire Explosion suits, designing them more like sports mascot costumes and having very little of the endoskeleton showing at all times (say for Foxy, of course). This was not only for more realistic world-building, but also to optimize animation, as we now have less moving parts that are actually showing, and therefore, less to render.

You might be wondering “if you wanted a more realistic approach to the suits, why not take a more realistic approach to the masks, like a more ShowBiz Pizza style?” And to that I say: everyone does that.

Okay, that isn’t entirely the reason. I like the idea of basing the designs more off of the canon models than something that already exists, because I like the idea of FazEnt having their own style of making animatronics. The ShowBiz style isn’t the only way to do animatronic masks, and these masks are how FazEnt would go about making them. Even when FazEnt does use the trademark ShowBiz rubber-face masks on the Junior models, they don’t do it the same way that ShowBiz does it.

Something interesting I want to do with Freddy & Friends is to set narrative moments apart from the moments meant to be passed off as real footage. The designs shown above are for the latter, meanwhile the narrative will use more artistically stylized suits textured to more so resemble a comic book, sort of like Into The Spider-Verse (except instead of going for a generalized comic book feel, the Freddy & Friends style is gonna be more reminiscent of the Batman: Year One comic). The designs will be more reminiscent of how I draw them on paper, as opposed to being faithful to the canon.

Here’s some extra info as to how I came up with the designs, as well as some extra renders and concept art!:

Original concept art from September 30, 2020.

Freddy was a little obvious to design, probably because everyone seems to design him like this when making more cartoonish versions of him. A more defined tuxedo complete with a collar and cuffs with a red stripe around his hat. It just seemed like the right direction to go in.

Bonnie was initially intended to wear a vest, though I was holding out for something else so that he could be differentiated from the evil rabbit (the evil rabbit wears a vest). I asked my friends what I could change it to, and one of them said “Try a cardigan”. Honestly, that fits Bonnie’s personality so much better, both in terms of spirit and cartoon.

You might also notice that Bonnie was supposed to have buck teeth, as well as more squared off teeth. That was originally part of his V1 model, but when I tried applying that to the new models, literally any way I tried to arrange it made Bonnie look like so much like an insufferable asshole that I wanted to punch him in the face. Ultimately, I ended up ditching the buck teeth and just gave him his classic teeth.

Chica was a little hard to do something unique with at first. I initially wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do with her, but when I modeled her V1, her little chef’s hat was a last minute addition to her design. I’m also thinking about changing her bib into an apron, per the toon designs that Henry posted a while back.

Foxy was probably the most fun to design. Obviously, his final model has a lot of details inspired by the FNAF movie, but when I was designing him 4 years ago, I really just wanted to go crazy with his design. I wanted him to have a beard, I wanted him to have a peg leg (I really liked the idea of animating him with a limp). Unfortunately, I don’t know if I’ll keep the peg leg, because it might be a little too hard for Henry to animate with the tech that he has.

As a cheeky little reference to the roots of the FNAF fandom, I wanted Foxy’s hook to resemble the hook seen on the Splinks Foxy model. ;)

Endo01 - Version 4 WIP

I’ve done a few different versions of the endoskeleton. What I’m trying to do for this new one is to assemble him modularly, allowing me to make each component a recognizable component (they’re also actually modeled after real components).

I’m not gonna go into detail about the functionality of this guy, because I eventually plan to make a Freddy & Friends Instructional VHS series centered around being a mechanic for FazEnt. However, what I will say is that these designs are intended to have plausible functionality, especially using the technology of the 1980’s (which is not restricted to pneumatic technology, because making an animatronic walk with pneumatic actuators while maintaining the traditional complexity of animatronic endoskeletons is simply impossible).

EXTRAS:

The original Version 1 designs

My failed attempt at giving Bonnie buck teeth (I wanna punch him so bad…)

Fixed Foxy

???

[roonyxx]

Upon a Hill: Chapter 4

Summary: What happens when the new hot guy, Dean Winchester, shows interest in you?

Warnings:  liitttle hint of smut, angst, injuries, bullying, lanuage, tension

Pairings: high school: Teen!Dean x plus!sized!reader

Wordcount: 1708

My Masterlist

Upon a Hill Masterlist

Part 4

You sat alone at lunch, like always… Dean said he would come today but, he wasn’t there. You couldn’t help but think he regretted what happened yesterday…

You dreamed about it the entire night, what would have happened if you uncle didn’t interrupt. How he would have made you feel, his breath fanning over your skin, his hands tracing over every inch of you, lips touching yours as tongues would have danced together. The sounds he would make as he sinks deep into you. His sweaty skin on yours, hips grinding into yours while you tug at the short strands of his hair.

You were so lost in your daydream that you didn’t see Zack approach you. He had his lunch tray in his hands as he passed you by. A wicked smile formed upon his face as he emptied the entire dish on top of your head.

You shrieked as you felt the soup running down your back and the mashed potatoes landed in your hair.

“Thought you wouldn’t mind my extra’s, fatty.” He snickered in your ear.

The whole cafeteria was looking at you, holding their hands in front of their mouths, laughing at you. You could feel the tears rolling down your face, mixing with the tomato sauce you were currently covered in.

“Oh, is fatty crying now ?” he made a pouty face towards you. “I thought you wanted all my food, you fat cow.”

This was the last straw, you stood up, fuming, clenching your jaw as you pushed him hard.

“YOU DICK!” You took some of the mashed potatoes from your hair and threw it in his face, your chest heaving with anger.

He wiped the food off his face, his tongue peaking just underneath his teeth. He was angry, never in a million years did he see that one coming. You stepped back in fear when you saw the rage in his eyes.

“Z-Zack I-…” Before you could finish he had you pinned by the neck against the wall, a crowd was forming around you two.

“You fucking bitch!” his face inches from yours. “This jacket costs more then everything you own!”

You had trouble breathing, his hand only growing tighter around you. One of Zack’s friends pulled at his shoulder “Dude stop, this getting too far.”

“BACK OFF! Fatty here got out of line.” He squeezed harder.

“Z-zack…” You tried, your hands scratching at his wrist to let you go.

“You’re disgusting, no one likes you, why don’t you just move, or better just end it already so we’re all freed from looking at you, you make me sick you fat bitch.” His other hand punched you in the stomach, making you cough. Black spots were clouding your eyes.

In a flash you could breathe again. Falling on your knees, your hands reached up to your neck as you tried to get air back into your lungs, coughing loud as Dean tackled Zack to the ground, he sat with his knees on Zack’s arms, rendering him unable to fight back. His fists hitting Zack in the face over and over. He was gonna kill him…

“D-Dean.” Your voice was too hoarse to be heard over the sound of his knuckles hitting Zack’s face.

“Hey ?! What the hell is happening here!” a teacher yelled as he saw everyone gathered around the three of you. He stepped in.

“HEY !” the teacher ran to Dean to pull him off Zack, but Dean wasn’t gonna give in that easily.

“HELP GODDAMNIT!” he yelled at the guys watching it all happen. Zack’s friends stepped in to pull Dean off.

Once Dean was off, the teacher checked Zack.

“Help me bring him to the nurse now! And you!” he pointed towards Dean, “Principal office now!”  

The teacher didn’t even notice you, but Dean did. He picked you up bridal style and walked out of the cafeteria, past the principal’s office.

“But D-Dean… you have t-to..”

“Sshh sweetheart, let’s just get you safe, I’ll deal with it later.”

Your head rested against his chest as he brought you to his car, he put you in the front seat and hurried to the other side, getting in he pulled you into his side. Starting the engine he drove to his motel. Your eyes felt heavy, wheezing with every breath you took.

“Sweetheart, you have to stay awake for me.” Dean said as he ran a red light to get to the motel faster. You nodded weakly.

He parked the Impala in front of his motel room, getting out he came to your side to carry you inside.

“Sammy, get some ice and the first aid kit.” He said as he laid you down on the bed.

“Is that Y/n ? What happened?!” Sam asked his big brother.

“Sam! Get the things!”

You were getting more and more aware of what was happening.

“Dean ? W-Where am I ?”

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re at my motel room. You’re gonna be okay.” Sam handed Dean the ice, opening the kit next to you. Dean put the ice on your neck. Your head  was pounding, you could barely keep your eyes open.

“‘m tired…” you said as your eyes fell heavy.

“Y/n, you gotta stay awake.” Dean said as he pushed your hair out of your face, you were shivering, the food you were covered in was cooling you down.

His voice faded away as you slipped into darkness.

You felt a thumb brushing over the top of your hand, opening your eyes, you were confused as to where you were, swallowing you whined. Fuck that hurt.

“Y/n ?” Dean’s face came into your line of sight “Oh thank God you’re awake.”

You tried to sit up more, Dean helping you.

“Are you okay ?” He asked.

“My head hurts, and my neck… fuck” your eyes started tearing at the burning sensation in your throat.

Dean got up to take a bottle of water and handed it to you.

“Thank you.” Greedily you swallowed each drop of the cold liquid, soothing the burn.

“What happened ?” you asked him.

“What do you remember ?” His hands rested in his lap and you could see his bloody knuckles.

“Dean…” you sat up and took his hand, “You punched him… ”

He pulled his hand out of yours, standing up to pace the room. “ He almost killed you!”

“Dean…” you got up from the bed, a little wobblily on your legs. “I’m okay.”

“OKAY ?! Look at what he did to you!! Your neck is completely blue! He… He nearly killed you !”

You stepped towards him and took his hands in yours, trying to calm him down. “Dean look at me.” His jaw clenched as he looked at you. “I’m okay now, I’m here thanks to you.” Your words calmed him down. He nodded weakly.

“Could I take a quick shower ?”

He gave you a half lipped smile, “Yeah of course, I’ll see if I can find some clothes for you.”

“Thank you.” You let go of his hands and went into the bathroom, taking off your clothes you looked at what you could safe, your panties where the only thing spared, you put the rest in a plastic bag before stepping into the shower. Washing away all the goo, you started softly sobbing, you never wanted to go back to school. You were ashamed and scared…

A knock sounded on the door.

“Y/n ? it’s me, I’m just gonna put some clothes inside by the door.”

You cleared your throat. “Y-yeah o-okay.” You heard the door open when he put the clothes inside.

After washing your hair two times, you got out, dried yourself off and put on Dean’s clothes. His sweatpants, a big t-shirt and his hoodie, which was good because you didn’t have a bra anymore.

You looked in the mirror and new tears filled your eyes, hands reaching for your neck. It was angry red, you could see his finger prints in a deep purple. It hurt, not physically but his words cut deep too… sobs broke through you, becoming harder because they hurt. The door opened.

“Hey sshh, sweetheart it’s okay, I’m here.” He wrapped his arms around you to pick you up and sit with you on the bed, cradling you in his arms, his head on top of yours. “I’ve got you.”

You angled your head back and took his hands. “You’re hurt because of me.”

“Y/n it’s nothing.” He whispered against the side of your face. You sniffed, taking the first aid kit from the night stand, opening it up. “Y/n you don’t ha-“

“Shut up Winchester, let me at least do this.”

You didn’t see the small smile on his face when you started disinfecting his knuckles, cleaning away the blood to tape them in. Once you were done you brought his knuckles to your face to give them a kiss. “There, all better.” You gave him a small smile. “Anywhere else you’re hurt?”

“My wrist hurts a little, dude’s got a hard face.” You took his wrist and gave it a little kiss too.

“Anywhere else ?” You said.

“My finger too.” He held up his pointer finger, which you kissed. “Better ?”

“These hurt a little too.” He pointed towards his lips, your heart pounded as he leaned closer. His scent wafting over you, making you swallow hard. His hand cupped your face, pulling you a little closer, his eyes on your lips as he licked his own.

“Can I kiss you ?” he asked in a whisper, you could only nod.

His plumb lips landed on yours very softly, like we was afraid he’d hurt you. You closed your eyes and put your hand in his neck, pulling him closer to urge him on. He turned his head to the side to deepen the kiss, you moaned into his mouth as his tongue brushed over your lower lip asking for access, which you gladly granted him. His tongue danced with yours, making you feel dizzy.

He parted from you when the need for air became too much. He chuckled lightly when he put his forehead on yours.

“Finally.” He said with a wide smile.

Part 5

[andypantsx3]

statistically significant | 7 | bakugou/reader

length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters

summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.

tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior

One month later

The Hero Awards certainly did not disappoint the second time around.

Though you’d spent the last few months in the company of some of these heroes, you couldn’t help but linger on the sidelines as they stalked their way down the walkway, staring in awe. As before, they were decked out in their absolute best, glimmering in jewel toned dresses with daring cutouts, or carving dashing profiles in well-fitted suits. Reporters and fans swarmed the sides of the red carpet, roiling like a pot reaching an agitated boil.

Their excitement was so palpable it hung heavy in the air, absolutely contagious. Maybe it was the fact that you knew some of the heroes up for awards tonight personally, but the potential of the evening simmered under your skin, a soft but constant hum of frenetic energy.

Or maybe some of that was due to the fact that this year, you’d been able to convince your boss to shell out the extra cash for the full dinner option. No longer would you need to smuggle snacks into your dress--this evening, you were a solid professional.

Which was a good thing, really, as the dress in question was not altogether any more secure or supportive than your dress from last year. You’d tried to angle for a thicker fabric and a little more of a conservative design, but several people had aired opinions on your choices over the course of the last few weeks, and you’d ended up in a thin swathe of delicate fabric that was really quite pretty, if you did say so yourself, but would support a grand total of maybe two popcorn kernels.

“You’re looking awfully forlorn over here,” someone chirped by your ear.

You startled, whirling to find Mina behind you, looking rosy and radiant in a form-fitting dress only a few shades lighter than her skin tone. Tiny pearls and clusters of glittering pink diamonds were stitched carefully into the fabric, winking at you as she moved, as bright as the conspiratorial grin she wore. She looked absolutely fabulous--she was one of the people who’d bullied you into the snackless gown, and you could begrudgingly admit that the girl had taste.

“Is it because a certain hotheaded blonde isn’t here yet?” she asked, a pink eyebrow going up.

You flushed. “Mina--oh my god, no. Not everything is about him, you know.”

She idly inspected a nail, looking supremely unconvinced. “Someone should tell him that, then.”

You huffed a laugh. The last time you’d been at the Awards, you’d said as much to him yourself. But a year later, the message was still not exactly being received.

“I’m actually thinking about dinner. I’m literally starving,” you complained, trying to divert the subject.

Mina nodded sympathetically. “I have a six pack and I still had to suck in to fit into this shit.”

As if on cue, your stomach growled sympathetically. You weren’t proud of what it was going to be like when you were finally unleashed on that multi-course dinner, but god it was gonna be worth it.

Several shrieks went up in the crowd of fans behind you, and you looked over your shoulder in alarm. Your pulse relaxed slightly when you realized it was just another pro sauntering down the walkway, but then the lights flickered off ashy blonde locks, and your pulse jumped violently. You jerked in surprise.

Mina didn’t even try to suppress her snort as you turned around fully, eyes pulled like a magnet to Bakugou as he stalked down the red carpet. Even looking like he would rather be anywhere else, and moving briskly over the carpet like he was going in for a kill, he still looked better than he had any right to. The charcoal of his suit--stitched with deep ruby flowers so dark they were almost black--brought out the piercing scarlet of his eyes, and your heart leapt into your mouth when those eyes cut over to meet yours.

His expression didn’t change, and he kept moving, but you flushed all the way from your head to your toes at the intensity behind his look.

Mina made a disgusted noise. “You’re both like a dog with a bone.”

You glared at her accusingly. “We literally just looked at each other.”

She clicked her tongue. “Please, he all but just pissed on you to mark his territory.”

Before you could reply, she called out, catching sight of Kirishima, and seized you to drag you over to say hello.

You let Mina drag you around for the next half hour, making polite conversation with her high school friends, a couple of friends from other agencies, and one fashion journalist who Mina had converted into a weekly drinking buddy. Mina kept the conversation light and easy, and you enjoyed yourself for the most part, though you almost passed out when a very distinct head of green curls materialized over her shoulder and then Midoriya Izuku--better known as the number one hero Deku--was smiling at you eagerly.

Things got even weirder when he appeared to not only already know who you were, but knew a great deal about your work, enough to ask some very detailed questions about your training model software that was going into production a couple months from now. Mina had the gall to cut into the conversation to call you both huge nerds, though she’d directly benefited from the model herself.

The conversation was unfortunately cut short when a calloused hand flung itself in front of your face and a rough voice sounded from over your shoulder. “Stop sticking your nose in my fucking business, Deku.”

You whipped around to find Bakugou glaring over your head at his former classmate. His hand closed around your shoulder and dragged you closer to him.

“I was just asking about her model, Kacchan,” Midoriya said patiently. “It’ll be great to be able to compare my movements directly with some of the other heroes in almost real time! Ojirou’s been trying out some new fighting forms and I was thinking I should try to adapt them to work into my shoot style--”

“Just because you couch it in nerd shit doesn’t mean you’re not trying to spy on me, fuckstick,” Bakugou said. “Stop poking your nose into my relationship like the town fucking gossip.”

Midoriya flushed a little, looking slightly chastened when you turned back to him in question. He gave you an embarrassed little smile. “I did want to meet you for reasons other than your model. Kacchan’s been my friend since I was little, and I wondered what kind of person could interest him so much he wanted my perspective on your work--”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou demanded, but he wasn’t fast enough.

You perked up in interest. “He asked you what?”

Bakugou bristled like a cat being dangled over a bath, but Midoriya was paying him no mind. “Right after the last Hero Awards, he’d done all this research and he asked me about whether your model results lined up with some of the personal analysis that I was doing--”

“Deku,” Bakugou’s fingers tightened on your arm, growing alarmingly warm. “If you don’t shut the fuck up right now I’m going to punch all of your teeth straight down your throat and into your stomach.”

“Kacchan,” Midoriya protested, but he was interrupted by a call on the overhead for everyone to start taking their places in the theater interior for the awards to begin.

Bakugou used the distraction to pry you away from Midoriya. In the blink of an eye, he’d gotten you across the theater and was corralling you towards the Miruko agency tables, looking like he’d sucked on a lemon. You stifled a laugh. You’d wondered a couple months ago exactly how and when he’d figured out you were quirkless, and he’d once asked if you thought you were the only one who’d done their research.

If things were anything like you were starting to suspect, your demands that he do better at the Hero Awards had apparently aroused his interest in more ways than one.

You and Bakugou hadn’t exactly settled on formal terms for your relationship yet, and he still more often than not answered any of your interest with the assertion that you were the one with the crush on him. But this was more evidence--beyond the mysterious coffees that showed up at your workstation almost every morning--that your interest was more intensely reciprocated than he was willing to own up to.

By the time you’d settled at a table and been flanked by a grinning Mina and Kaminari, the awards were getting underway. They were thrilling to watch, something you’d had to miss out on last year when you needed to sneak out with a giant hole in the front of your dress. The heroes you’d worked with this year raked in an insane number of awards, and their elation was palpable, so thick you could almost taste it in the air. The pair of men with satyr horns were named the Best Rookie Duo, Miruko was awarded Takedown of the Year, and Kaminari clocked the Fastest Fight Win for a battle last month in which he’d rendered a villain with an aluminum quirk insensate only seconds into the fight.

A very unfortunate match up, you thought.

Mina nabbed an award for Fan Favorite, and in almost no time, it was the moment that you’d been nervously awaiting since nominations had gone out. You’d cheated, doing your own calculations behind everyone’s backs just to get a clearer picture of what his chances were, and you rather liked his odds, but there was always a chance it wouldn’t go how you thought. But this was the moment that Bakugou was up for Most Valuable Hero.

You barely heard any of the words the host was saying as he trotted out the names of the nominees, detailing some of their key accomplishments. He covered Bakugou's latest slew of assists and rescues, stats that made you feel kind of weirdly warm and proud, and then your ears strained for the syllables you’d hoped to hear.

And then:

“The winner is...our explosive number six, Ground Zero!”

It took everything in you not to leap out of your seat in joy, though something like a strangled squeal managed to escape you. Bakugou gave you an evaluating look as he got to his feet, stalking up on stage with his usual intensity.

As soon as he was up there, it struck you that allowing him time for an acceptance speech was maybe not a great idea. Graciousness was not exactly a strength of his.

“Obviously I’m the most valuable,” he growled into the mic. The stage lights glinted off his hair and teeth, making him look slightly more predatory than usual. “I didn’t need you fucks to tell me.”

A choking noise could be heard from Kirishima’s seat a couple tables over, and Mina put her head in her hands.

“What’s important is that I’m number six now and it only took me a month,” Bakugou’s head swiveled in the direction of Midoriya and you suppressed a groan. “Don’t get fucking comfortable. I’m gonna wipe the floor with every one of the top five, and next awards you’ll all be kissing my ass.”

He didn’t seem like he had much more he wanted to say, which was an incredible relief as both the host and nearby security looked about ready to wrestle him offstage.

He leapt neatly down from the stage, and when he made it back to the table, he didn’t take his seat again. Instead, he grabbed your arm, hauling you out of your seat, and then he was pulling you down the aisle and through the door to the reception area.

He pulled you past the snack table and you thought he was steering you towards the stairwell again, but at the last second he took a sudden turn, shoving you through a door into the women’s powder room. You didn’t even have enough time to formulate a question before he had you backed up against the wall, your shoulders hitting the cool stone at the same time his mouth hit yours.

His kiss was hot and demanding as always, and you lost yourself in it easily. He trailed a line of burning kisses down your neck and over your shoulder, making you shudder and shake when he lingered too long over any particular spot.

It was hard to think past the press of his body on yours, but you tried your best to formulate words.

“Katsuki--it’s--we’re in the women’s room,” you panted, embarrassed by the fact that even as you spoke, you were clutching him closer. “This is--what are you--? S-someone’s gonna come in.”

Bakugou broke apart from you just long enough to level a searching glance around the room and--spotting what he’d been looking for--hefting the trashcan in front of the door with a forceful kick to stop it shut.

“There, nerd. Now stop fucking complaining,” he rasped, immediately attaching his mouth back under your jaw. You shuddered.

“What the fuck has gotten into you,” you demanded, seizing a fistful of his blonde hair to pull him back from where he was leaving what felt like a very deep bruise over your collarbone.

He leveled you with a burning, red-eyed stare. “Like you don’t fucking know.”

You looked at him in question. “...I actually don’t.”

He tried to lean in again but you gripped his hair harder. “What? You can’t just keep throwing me up against walls, especially here. What is it with you and shoving me into weird places at the Hero Awards?”

Bakugou growled. “If you don’t shut the fuck up and let me do what I want, I’m gonna burn throught this dress too.”

You froze up, then glared at him accusingly. “I literally write the code that processes your rank. If you ever wanna come within sniffing distance of the top three, you won’t touch a single thread of this dress.”

The hands on you grew hot, but not hot enough to burn. Bakugou slid a calloused hand over the curve of your waist, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

“God, the fuckin’ attitude on you,” he said, almost reverently.

You felt your face warm under his scrutiny as he leaned closer. “You wanna know what's gotten into me? I wanted to melt that entire fucking thing off you last year. You were so fucking mouthy, such a little brat to me. Wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you right in the stairwell until you forgot you’d ever even heard of numbers.”

You shivered. Bakugou smirked, eyes darkening, leaning back in to bite under your jaw. You realized you’d lost your grip on him and willed your fingers to cooperate again.

“I fucking won that stupid award because I let you boss me around. I've waited an entire year. Now you’re gonna let me do whatever I want with you.”

Your legs went out from beneath you but Bakugou was already there, catching you under your thighs and hauling you up onto the countertop between the sinks. Your back brushed the mirror, glass cold under your shoulder blades.

“Y--you know, if you actually want to be number one, you can’t make speeches like you did,” you babbled nervously as he filled the space between your thighs. “Your public approval rating is part of your ranking, right? It’s weighted right below rescues…”

Bakugou paid you no mind, fingers already searching over your back to find the zipper to your dress. He yanked it down with little ceremony, seizing the front of your bodice to pull it off of you.

“I don’t need to be fucking nice if I’m the one saving the day,” he announced imperiously, leaning down to capture a nipple with his mouth.

Your hips jerked, and he pressed a hand to your thigh, holding you back down against the counter. Dimly, you registered that the words were familiar. “N--not--ah!--not this again.”

Bakugou didn’t deign to respond, instead doing something absolutely mind-bending with his tongue. You swore loudly, catching a fistful of his jacket. “Fuck, Katsuki!”

A hot palm slid up your thigh, gathering up the soft material of your skirt until he could slip a hand underneath. Calloused fingers trailed over your core with obvious intention. You inhaled sharply when he pressed them into you, leaning up to cover your mouth with his again.

Bakugou had you squirming wildly against him in barely a minute, snorting when you tried to get a hand on his zipper.

“Want me that bad, nerd?” he asked, pressing forehead to yours in an oddly tender move.

“If you don’t hurry the fuck up I’m gonna finish things myself,” you threatened, though Bakugou did not look at all as if he believed you.

He helped you get his zipper down, taking himself in hand, but he stopped just as he brushed your entrance, leaning forward to bite another kiss into your mouth.

“Now it’s time for you to make good on your end of the bet,” he growled, a smirk growing over his features. “You’ll tell me I’m the best and I was right all along.”

You stilled underneath him, disbelieving. “Are you--are you fucking serious.”

Bakugou pressed forward, just enough for you to feel the pressure of him on your clit. You fought down a noise like a whimper. Damn him.

“I jumped two ranks,” he said. “You’ll tell me I’m the best if you want me, nerd.”

“I am not gonna beg for you like this,” you announced, though it sounded a little more like a question than you had wanted it to.

Bakugou brushed his thumb over your clit again and little sparks danced over the corner of your vision. “Mmm, you’re gonna scream.”

You felt something like a tension snap inside you. Fuck it. He was so annoying but holy shit if he wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever encountered. If he needed his ego stroked, well it wasn’t nearly as much as you needed your own stroking.

You grit your teeth. “Ugh, fine--just--you’re the best, and you were right all along. Now will you please--”

You didn’t even get to finish before he was sinking into you, narrow hips fitting flush with your thighs. You swore at the feeling of fullness, and then he was moving, picking up into a frantic pace. He leaned forward, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow all the little noises you were making. It was mere minutes before you were shivering underneath him again, moving your hips to meet his, desperate for more, Katsuki, more.

“Ah fuck--so fucking good for me,” he grunted against your mouth, giving a particularly hard thrust, and that was all it took to unravel you.

You stifled a scream in the thick fabric of his jacket, arching up into him. He cursed and followed after you with a few more short thrusts, crushing you against the counter when he let his weight go slack.

You panted underneath him, catching your breath while your fingers slowly unclenched themselves from the hem of his suit jacket. Bakugou rubbed his face in the hollow of your shoulder, radiating smug satisfaction.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it, nerd?” he rasped, biting down lightly where he’d left the hickey earlier.

You pulled back, looking into his face again. He looked far too pleased with himself, but he was so handsome like this, all messy hair and a kiss darkened mouth. Your irritation with him fizzled out a little.

He flashed you a predatory grin. “You said it yourself--I'm the fucking best.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop your hand from coming up and tangling in his hair. “Shut the fuck up.”

Bakugou, predictably, did not look as if he was going to shut the fuck up at all. So you took matters into your own hands, and leaned in and kissed him again.

[xxdragonwriterxx]

��You Are Human, And Damn It, You Are An Important One!🔥

A/N: Hey everyone! I’m back! It looks like my tags finally decided to sort themselves out so I wanted to (finally) post a new story! I’m still working on requests though, so don’t worry, those are coming soon! I just wanted to post this in the mean time while I edit those and test if my tags are really fixed on one of my originals so that any requested fics will actually be seen later should an error occur. Thank you so much for your continued support and patience, you guys are so amazing! I hope this makes up for my temporary hiatus! This one actually has a bit of a heavier tone to it but I think I’m finally happy with it! Thanks again for the support, and don’t be afraid to talk to me! Shoot me a message or just spew random bullshit and I’ll still respond 😂. Enjoy!

(Warning: themes of non-con & abuse. This is set in a brothel, but there’s nothing explicit, it’s just mentioned or implied. Just wanted to put it out there! Viewer discretion advised!)

🐉Song Recommendation: “The Gardener” By: Sarah Sparks 🐉

Word Count: ~7k

~~~

It was that time of year. The time of year that Levi hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It was the time of year in which merchants from all around would come down to the Underground City, away from the prying eyes of the Military Police, and sell anything and everything to the nobles who weren’t exactly looking for orthodox materials. The normally filthy, mostly empty streets would be filled with members of the wealthy, dripping in jewelry, cash, and lavish clothing as they paraded around the sorry excuse for a city, boasting of their wealth and privilege as they bought enough food and luxurious goods to feed three times the number of people in the Underground while sharing none of it.

The days were starting to blur together. Levi honestly couldn’t tell if it had been a day, a week, or a month as the drugs in his system continued to work just like the brothel owners wanted them to, rendering him practically inoperative and perfect for use. His head pounded, swimming with confused thoughts. His gaze was unfocused, warped, and his whole body felt suffocatingly hot despite his lack of cover, his legs shifting as his body instinctively searched for a relief he didn’t even want. But that was exactly how they wanted him.

The sound of his door being unlocked made him look up slowly, his eyes taking a few seconds to fully focus on the man standing in the entrance of his room, a wide, malicious grin on his face. Levi couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. The man smelled of sweat and stale alcohol, and his unkempt appearance made Levi itch, even when drugged out of his mind.

“Oh, Levi…” the man cooed, making Levi shudder. “I have another customer for you.”

Even though Levi had been through this time and time again, even though he had been trapped in his filthy room since he was caught stealing from a merchant friend of the brothel owner at age twenty, even though the drugs in his system were making his body scream for what this new customer could give him, he still couldn’t help the wave of dread that washed through him, the fear. Levi didn’t fear much, having grown up on the streets of the Underground alone since he was abandoned by Kenny at the age of ten, but this? This he was scared of.

He thought back to the wretched old man that had abandoned him as a small child and wondered what he would think of him now. Would he be disgusted? Unsurprised? Angry? Not that it mattered. Levi knew he would never see him again. But even so, his brain couldn’t help itself from going down those roads, asking questions of “what if?” no matter how many times he reminded himself that it didn’t matter. He was just some bastard thug turned whore in the Underground. Nobody was going to even remember him, let alone care about who he was or who he may be in the future.

Levi was once again brought out of his daze when the pig in the doorway moved to the side, letting a noble woman saunter into the room. She had a wicked grin on her face as she approached him, ignoring the brothel owner as he slammed the door shut behind her, giving them some privacy. She was covered in glittering jewelry, and although the dress she wore was extravagant, it was very tight fitting and low cut, barely considered decent, her large breasts one breath away from spilling out over the top. Her hair was pinned up in a lavish braided style, twisting and coiling tightly, and held together with real gold pins that Levi knew must’ve cost a fortune.

“~Well, hello sexy,” the woman purred as she approached the raven-haired man.

Levi had to force himself not to grimace, even with the effect of the drugs, when she slithered her way over his thighs, her hands reaching up to cup his face. The smell of whatever custard perfume she had on was overwhelming, making his eyes water and his throat close up. Her hands felt clammy from all of the lotions and creams she had slathered over her skin to make it look shinier, making them feel like dead fish rubbing against his cheeks.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask my name?” The woman demanded in a sickly sweet voice, making Levi close his eyes in barely suppressed agony.

“What is your name?” Levi asked in a low voice. He felt the woman preen above him at the sound of his voice, knowing she thought his deep tone was for setting the mood rather than the effect of his despair.

“My name is Lady Clarissa! What’s your name, hmmm?”

“Levi,” He said quietly.

“Oooh, Leevviiii, I like that,” Lady Clarissa practically moaned. “Say, Levi, you were quite expensive. That must mean you're really good at what you do. I can already tell that you fulfill my personal tastes in terms of appearance, so why don’t you convince me of the rest and give me a good time. Don’t make me regret spending my good money on you. Don’t make me punish you.”

Levi gritted his teeth when she ground her hips into him, trying his hardest not to fight back. He knew it would be difficult, the drugs making his movements and mental processes much slower, but at that moment, all he wanted to do was shove her off of him. Swallowing the bile in his throat, Levi reached for her as she leaned down to force her tongue into his mouth.

It was that time of year. The time of year that (Y/N) hated the most. The Underground Market Festival. It took everything in her to avoid groaning in annoyance as the people she was expected to call her friends dragged her down into the filthy Underground City for a day of “fun”. (Y/N) would much rather be back at home, reading a book in the library, or relaxing with the horses in the barn, or secretly practicing her sword fighting skills with the guards of their estate. But her father had forced her to go when her friends had shown up at the house, begging for her to come with them. He claimed she needed to get her priorities straight and actually present herself, show the honor and pride that came with being part of the (L/N) family. (Y/N) thought there was very little honor and pride in parading their wealth around like they owned the world, especially in front of people who constantly struggled to survive on a daily basis.

(Y/N) walked slowly down the worn cobblestone streets, suppressing the urge to gag at the sight of other nobles walking around, looking and acting as if they were rulers of the walls. She barely looked at anything, only stopping to occasionally buy food when she noticed the hungry children hanging around, looking for a scrap to steal. She could tell they were wary of her, but she never stopped trying, always offering them the food in some way, even if it meant leaving it in a secluded space for them to find later.

Her friends constantly tried to get her to engage, running up to her with crystal jewelry, silk clothing, and delectable foods, attempting to entice her, only to get pushed away. (Y/N) wanted no part in any of it. Even her attire spoke volumes about how little she wanted to be there. She knew that to the people of the Underground, the dress she wore would be considered something of utmost value, but when compared to the nobles around her, she looked underdressed and plain. She wore nothing more than a subtle red dress covered with a black leather jacket, paired with black combat boots and matching gloves, no jewelry to be found except for the simple white earrings she wore in her lobes.

Her father had been less than pleased with her appearance, but stopped arguing when she announced she was leaving, the lord just happy she had at least agreed to go to the festival. She knew he was disappointed in her, annoyed that she wasn’t like the other noble ladies who loved to flaunt their luxurious lifestyles and bend to the every whim of the lords around them, looking to marry early for money and power. (Y/N) wouldn’t be surprised if the entire reason her father wanted her here was so she could possibly win over the affections of a single lord milling about, one that was rich and influential. It was for that possibility alone that (Y/N) had originally thought to wear something that made her look underdressed, having to swallow the bile that rose in her throat at the prospect of catching some snobby noble’s attention.

“Yeah, her name is (Y/N)! She’s the one right over there, I think she could use a good time.”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up when she heard her name, her eyes shooting over to where her friends were standing in a group in front of a large building. All of them were looking at her, covering their faces with their hands to hide their giggles. Dread filled her to the brim when she saw the sign in front of the building, her face paling in horror.

“That one, eh? I think we can arrange something like that,” the brothel owner said, a smug smile on his lips as he stared at her, his grin only widening as her cheeks flushed a brilliant red. “Don’t worry, I’ve got one in particular that could give you a good ride. He’s expensive since he’s my most popular, but he’s worth it.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, her cheeks on fire as her brain fought to think of something, anything to get her out of this situation. She didn’t want to fuck some random stranger for no reason, but she especially didn’t want to have sex in a brothel. She found them vulgar, repulsive, and horrible. The way they treated their “workers” was appalling. Just as the words finally reached the tip of her tongue, one of the girls she had come to the festival with cut off her impending argument.

“Damn, I’m jealous! If he’s that good I’m almost tempted to take him myself. But she needs this. She hasn’t loosened up the entire time we’ve been here and I think this might help. She’ll take him.”

The greasy man smiled and wrote her name down, happily accepting the roll of cash her friend handed him before getting up, supposedly to let the man know that he had another customer on the way. (Y/N) tried to escape when she could, but her friends rushed up and caught her before she could slip into the shadows, dragging her over to the brothel and shoving her towards an open door where the brothel owner stood, a creepy smile still plastered on his face.

“Guys! I don’t want this!” (Y/N) whispered frantically as she was dragged towards her doom.

“It doesn’t matter if you want it or not, you need it!” One of her friends said with a laugh. “Besides, you’re going to have a fun time. Don’t make us regret spending that money for you!”

(Y/N) was practically thrown into the room, stumbling as she fought to catch her balance, before the door was slammed shut behind her, the loud sound of the lock being latched reverberating around the room with the finality of a death toll. Huffing in anger, (Y/N) stood and brushed herself off, smoothing out her dress and straightening back up to her full height, fighting off the panic slithering up her spine.

A low groan of pain coming from behind her made her whirl around in surprise, her eyes landing on a shorter, pale skinned man with stunning silver eyes and raven black hair. Gods he looked pathetic. She could definitely tell he was attractive, it made sense now as to why he was a popular choice, but he looked sickly, his cheeks hollowed out, dark circles under his eyes, and a muscled yet neglected body starting to wear thin from years of hunger and constant overuse. The sight made her want to be sick. How could anybody be cruel enough to force themselves onto this obviously abused man? How could anyone willingly pay money to fuck him rather than help him?

“Um, hello,” (Y/N) said quietly. “W-What’s your name?”

The man raised an eyebrow, not used to the soft, kind, almost shy way she asked for his name. The women and occasional men he dealt with most of the time were demanding, controlling, and sadistic, knowing they paid for a man they could use, and their voices usually projected that. Yet, this woman looked as if she had been forced to do this, further supported by the way she had been nearly thrown into the room by whom he assumed was her friends.

“Levi,” he said quietly, waiting for the usual routine to start, no matter how much his gut twisted in disgust at the thought.

“Hi, Levi, I’m (Y/N).”

“(Y/N)...” Levi murmured softly, training himself to memorize it despite his swimming brain, knowing she would want him to scream it out later. Whether in pain or in pleasure, he wasn’t sure yet.

“Um…” (Y/N) was about to speak, her mind scrambling for something to say when her eye caught sight of a large bruise on his neck. Her eyes widened and suddenly started scanning his entire body, her stomach roiling more and more the longer she stared. Now that she was really paying attention, (Y/N) could see painful bites, hickeys, and splotchy bruises littering his neck, jaw, chest, and thighs. Her eyes narrowed on the long, bloody scratches running down the length of his chest and back, and she noticed blooming red patches of skin all over him that were raw and aching from being slapped hard and rough over and over again. 

He was wearing a loose pair of worn boxers as his only cover, and (Y/N) could only imagine what other horrors the thin cloth was hiding. Glancing down, she saw him shift uncomfortably, his boxers tented by his arousal. The sight made her growl in anger, knowing that to keep him going after he had already had so many customers for the day, a drug was being used to make him insatiable, forcing him past the point of pain and probably clouding his judgement and mental process as well. It made her want to go cut up the brothel owner and serve him to a pig.

Without thinking, (Y/N) rushed to him, reaching out to him, only to freeze when he flinched. She heard him curse at the involuntary movement, knowing it was his job to appear as unaffected and sexually appealing as possible, and it made her heart clench even harder, her hatred for this place and the people who ran it increasing tenfold.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) immediately slowed her movements, trying to appear as calm and unhurried as possible. Her gaze softened and glazed with unshed tears when he closed his eyes, his arms reaching out as he prepared for her to sit on his lap and have her way with him like she knew every other man and woman who used him did. Gritting her teeth against the fury she felt, she carefully slid her way across his thighs. She felt him force himself to relax under her as he leaned forward to let her kiss him.

When he felt nothing, and heard something click, Levi cracked open his eyes in curiosity, only to have them fly open all the way when he felt something cool and wet against his neck. Looking down at the woman in his arms, his lips parted in shock, watching in confused awe as she leaned back and soaked a small cloth in some water from a bottle, rinsing the fresh blood from the fabric. Looking to the side, he saw a small first aid kit by her feet, the container open to reveal a variety of medical tools inside.

(Y/N) leaned forward again, raising the towel to his neck to dab at his abrasions, washing them carefully, reverently, almost... lovingly. Levi opened and closed his mouth but no words came out as she continued to work on him, delicately cleaning his jaw and neck before carefully moving on to his chest. Was this some kind of strange ritual she always performed during sex? Did she just find him dirty and want to clean him up before putting her lips or her pussy on his skin? His mind was running a million miles a minute as she worked on him in silence, only pausing when he hissed quietly at the feeling of his gashes being washed.

(Y/N) frowned as she gently swiped the cloth along the red gouges in his skin. They were deep, most likely caused by the long, sharp nail extensions some ladies liked to wear, or the dull blade of a man with violent tendencies. It didn’t surprise her, a lot of the men and women who used people like this did have sadistic qualities, but it didn’t help to quell the now roaring fire in her blood, wanting nothing more than to fight against the injustice of this man.

“W-What are you doing?” Levi finally managed to ask.

“Cleaning your wounds.”

“Why? Is this some kind of-”

“Preparation? No. We aren’t going to do anything. I just want to help your injuries heal.”

Levi felt like his brain was full of static, like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wasn’t complaining, far from it, but he couldn’t get a reading on this woman. Why would she, a noble from the surface, want to help him, a hopeless whore from the Underground?

“Wha-”

“Before you ask what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I didn’t even want to do this. I was forced to come to this festival because my father wants me to become more of a proper noble woman. But since I wasn’t too thrilled about having to be here, the people I came with thought I could use an opportunity to loosen up, and paid for me to do this with you in the hopes that I’d start having fun with them afterwards. But I have no intention of doing any of that. I hate how everyone in the Underground is treated like shit, and the last thing I want to do is take advantage of someone who obviously isn’t in control of his situation. I just want to help.”

Levi closed his mouth, all of his protests dying on his tongue. He still had questions, a lot of them, but he decided those could wait, her explanation making him feel surprisingly relaxed for someone who had trained himself to never take the word of a noble at face value. He had never met anyone like her. Even before he was forced to whore himself out, all he had ever known of nobles was their complete lack of humility and egotistical sense of self-importance. 

It was silent for a moment, but this time, the silence was more comfortable, both of them starting to relax a little as (Y/N) continued to patch him up. Levi felt himself loosen up a bit, his muscles unwinding as his hands settled on her waist, keeping her securely balanced on his lap as she worked. Pride swirled in (Y/N)’s chest as she felt his tense muscles soften, her eyes sparkling as she started to work her way towards earning his trust.

“What’s your happiest memory?” (Y/N) asked suddenly.

Levi quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, “Why should I tell you, brat?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head and stifling a giggle at the nickname. “I only asked because I figured we may as well talk while we do this. Not only that, I feel like you could use some happiness right now. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so if you don’t want to talk to me, you don’t have to.”

Levi was silent for a minute, the cogs in his mind turning as he tried to make what he believed to be the right decision despite the fog clouding his judgement. Just as she had promised, (Y/N) waited patiently, not pressuring him to answer, or even bringing up another question. She merely sat in silence, her clear (e/c) eyes narrowed on his injuries as she worked to make him feel better.

“There was a time when I was with my friend Farlan, a few years back. We were doing a job, trying to get rid of a troublesome merchant for a client of ours when we found out the merchant had a cat. We were hiding around the corner, waiting to strike when that damn cat jumped up onto Farlan’s lap. I’m fine with cats, but that was the day we found out Farlan had some kind of allergy to them. He was trying to hold back his sneezes but finally lost control right when the merchant came around the corner, and Farlan ended up sneezing really violently in his face. That merchant got so scared he must’ve jumped at least three feet in the air, and even managed to piss himself before he took off. We still had to finish him off later, but in that moment, when Farlan was mortified and our target was running for the hills because of a cat induced sneeze, I couldn’t help but laugh a little.”

(Y/N) had paused in her work to listen to him, and couldn’t help but smile when he finished his story. Going back to work, (Y/N) didn’t ask what happened to Farlan, not wanting to drag him back down after she had finally gotten him to talk to her, about something so personal no less.

“What about you?” Levi asked.

“Hmm, I think I’d have to say when I got my horse for my birthday,” (Y/N) said. “I was never around the horses, wasn’t allowed to be in the barn because it wasn’t “proper for a lady”. But I loved them, loved seeing them on the streets when other nobles would come visit my father or when the soldiers from the Survey Corps would come back from a mission. I couldn’t stay away, so no matter how much my father tried to squash my love of them, it just wouldn’t happen. My mother eventually convinced him to let it go, and surprised me with a little chestnut filly that I named Sashay when I was about sixteen years old. Now, she’s my best friend. We’ve been through everything together, and she’s the only one who doesn’t try to force me to be something I’m not. Aside from the royal guards, I guess. They learned a long time ago to stop trying to get me to sit still and look pretty when I beat all of them in the sword fighting ring.”

Levi’s brows shot up into his hair at that, his lips parting in surprise. “You know how to sword fight?”

(Y/N) chuckled. “Yeah, not what you were expecting, huh?”

“No,” Levi said. “I’ve never heard of a noble woman who could fight, let alone with a blade. Are you any good?”

“I tend to think so, but that all depends on who I’m up against,” (Y/N) said with a cheeky smile.

For some reason, Levi couldn’t help but smile back for the first time in years. His lips felt chapped and strained from disuse, but it felt good, a light feeling flooding his chest with warmth. “You said earlier that your horse’s name is Sashay,” Levi said, suddenly changing the topic.

“Mm hm.”

“That’s weird.”

(Y/N) giggled at his bluntness, making another fluttering feeling swirl in his chest. He had never met anyone other than Farlan who saw his language as something other than rude.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” (Y/N) said. “But I named her that because she is a sassy chestnut mare. I like to imagine that if she were human, she’d be someone you wouldn’t want to mess with, someone who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but would do so with a spicy attitude. So I named her accordingly.”

Levi huffed a laugh at her response but almost immediately regretted it when the movement of his chest caused the rough gauze at her fingertips to brush against his injuries a little harder than before, the stinging sensation making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry!” (Y/N) said, quickly retracting her hands and holding them up, waiting for him to give her the signal to continue.

“Not your fault,” Levi mumbled, motioning that it was alright for her to get back to work. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I said that before.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I want to do this.”

Levi wanted to ask her why but remembered what she had told him at the start of this and decided to trust her word, swallowing the question and instead changing topics. “Why do you even have this? Do you always just carry a first aid kit around?”

“Only when I come to the Underground. I want to have it available for those who really need it.”

“You do know that at least half of the people down here would kill you without a second thought to get to that medicine. Or they’d kill you if they thought you were pitying them.”

“I know, but I’d like to think I can handle myself a bit more than the average person. Even so, I usually keep it hidden unless I really want or need to use it on someone, and it’s only for quick patch-ups anyway. I can’t really fix anything major.”

(Y/N) finally finished with his front and carefully slid off of his thighs, moving slowly to begin working on his back. She made sure he was okay with everything she was doing before settling herself down onto the edge of the bed behind him, her hands reaching up to start her work once more.

Levi wanted to know more about her. He felt as if he could talk to her for hours, as if he had known her for years. He wanted to know what made her laugh, what made her cry, what her vision was for the future. It was insane, so much so that Levi idly wondered if he’d fallen off the deep end. But he couldn’t deny it. She was just too intriguing, so surprisingly kind, so genuine.

What was your childhood like? What are your favorite things to do? Do you come down here often? When will I see you again?

The questions continued to rattle around in Levi’s head as they once again lapsed into a comfortable silence but he forced all of them back, not wanting to seem either too desperate to get to know her, or be seen as coming on too strong.

After debating with himself for a while, Levi finally settled on, “You’ve mentioned your father a lot, and how he doesn’t want you to be yourself.”

(Y/N) tensed a little, her face twisted in a grimace behind Levi’s back. “Yeah… he used to be better about it, but ever since my mother died, he’s been like a tyrant. He’s upset he didn’t get a son in the first place, but now that he’s stuck with me for a daughter, he’s even more disappointed that I’m not someone he can easily make profits off of by marrying me off to someone. Not only have I been adamant about not allowing it, but no nobleman wants a woman who can think for herself. A woman who can ride a horse, go toe to toe with her soldiers, has an opinion, and is knowledgeable about current conflicts. They want someone who will dress up all pretty for them and be in bed, ready to satisfy them when they get home from gambling and drinking all day while sitting on their parents’ money.”

Levi scoffed and (Y/N) huffed in agreement. “I’m just not that kind of person. Every suitor that has ever met me has run away from my casual attire and sailor’s mouth.”

“Your father wasn’t like this when your mother was alive?” Levi asked.

“He was, but he wasn’t as bad. My parents were in an arranged marriage, but they got along alright. At least my father loved my mother enough to listen to her most of the time when she told him to lay off of me. I honestly think she’s the reason why I have such a strong fighting spirit.”

“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Levi said awkwardly, not used to providing words of comfort.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) said genuinely, a warm smile gracing her beautiful features.

“I didn’t know my mother that well,” Levi said haltingly, still unsure why he felt comfortable telling her about things he hadn’t even talked to Farlan about. “She died of a disease when I was four years old. She was a prostitute, like me, so I never knew my father. When she died, I was picked up by a man named Kenny, who I thought might’ve been my father for a short while, but as I grew older, I realized he wasn’t. I don’t have any proof, I just know. When he abandoned me at ten, I was alone for a few years before I met Farlan.”

“So… you didn’t get stuck doing this because of your mother?” (Y/N) asked carefully, almost afraid to ask in case it made him shy away from her.

“No,” Levi said slowly. “I was twenty years old when I was caught stealing from a rich friend of this brothel owner. I had made a mistake and there was no way out. He figured out who I was, a thug who was known at the time for carrying out favors for people, whether that meant stealing or killing depended on how much they were willing to pay. Unfortunately, this led them to Farlan, and he gave me a choice. Me, or my best and only friend.”

“And you chose to save your friend at the expense of yourself,” (Y/N) finished for him in a hoarse whisper, filled with horror and unbridled fury at what this man had been through. She figured she should’ve been alarmed, he had just admitted that he had blood on his hands. He was a thief, a thug, a criminal, a murderer. But (Y/N) knew those things were nearly requirements for living in the Underground and no matter how she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anything that would make this man deserve what he was going through.

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something just as she put the last bandage in place when a loud pounding on the door startled them both. “Time’s up, you two!” The brothel owner shouted through the door.

(Y/N) shot up from the bed and rushed around to where the water and first aid kit sat, quickly packing up the little box of supplies and splashing her face with water, trying to make herself look sweaty enough to look convincing. Once everything had been packed away, (Y/N) stood and shrugged off her leather jacket, throwing it to him.

“Here, take this, it’ll keep your boss from seeing the bandages and trying to get rid of them. It’ll also give your injuries a little more protection from the bacteria in this room.”

Levi wanted to refuse, tell her he couldn’t accept a gift like this, even if it was temporary, but no words would come out as he watched the beautiful woman in front of him mess up her hair and swipe her fingers across her lips, trying to make herself look as wrecked as possible. When she finally looked the part enough to seem convincing, (Y/N) made her way to the door, turning one last time before she opened it to throw him a wink and a sweet smile.

“~Goodbye Levi, I hope we can see each other again soon.”

The lilt in her voice was fake, an act for anyone who may be listening on the other side of the door, meant to be taken as a sickly promise of more sexual endeavors to come, but he could feel the genuine emotion in her statement.

“I hope so too,” Levi said quietly after she had already left, the once comforting quiet of his room now making him feel lonely and empty.

The sound of pounding on his door woke Levi abruptly, making the raven-haired man growl in anger and annoyance. It was rare that the poor man got to sleep, not only because customers could come in at almost any time, day or night, but also because of the horrible insomnia that often plagued him. It made him even more irritable to be woken up, his body sore and his mind groggy as another round of pounding roused him further and prompted him to swing his legs over the side of the small cot he was provided when not busy fucking, and make his way to the door.

“What?” Levi snapped when he swung open the door, genuinely surprised that the pig who owned him hadn’t just burst into his room like he always did, raving about yet another customer for Levi.

“Get your shit, you’re going to the surface.”

Levi blinked. This had to be some kind of joke. The brothel owner never let anyone under his foot leave the brothel, let alone the Underground. Even the highest class noble women couldn’t request for him to come to them, the old man not trusting his prostitutes to be sent back. Especially Levi.

“Oi, your ears gone to shit now? Grab your pathetic bullshit and get out of my sight,” the man snarled, his small, watery eyes narrowed on Levi like he was the scum of the world.

Shaking himself out of it, Levi didn’t hesitate for another moment, rushing back into his room to grab the pitifully few things he had with him, including the leather jacket he had gotten from (Y/N), draping it over his shoulders to hide his healing injuries just in case it was a trick. The festival was still going on afterall, this could just be some ruse the old man set up to make the experience more interesting for the men and women who paid for him.

When Levi returned, the man pulled a gun from his jacket pocket and jerked his head, signaling Levi to follow him. Levi knew better than to risk running. In his full health he could’ve easily escaped from the man’s clutches, but with little more than a half hour of rest, his injured body, weak muscles, and the remnants of the drugs still working through his system, Levi didn’t trust himself to outrun a bullet, and knew the pig wouldn’t hesitate to fire, no matter how valuable Levi was to him. 

Even though Levi kept expecting the brothel owner to turn down a secluded street and lead him right into an ambush or trick of some sort, he never did, leading Levi right to the stairs exiting the Underground. When they reached the guards at the base of the stairs, the man took two slips of paper from the inner pocket of his worn brown coat and showed it to the guard. When he was cleared to continue on, the brothel owner turned and motioned for Levi to stay close as he stomped his way up the stairs, grumbling incoherently to himself all the while.

Breaching the surface, Levi brought an arm to his face, shielding his eyes from the intensity of the sun as it attacked his face with warm, bright light. He eventually got used to it, slowly lowering his arm and rushing to catch up with his boss, who was impatiently grunting for him to hurry up.

Passing through what appeared to be a busy market square, Levi followed the brothel owner along the lively cobblestone streets until they reached a quieter part of the town, stopping along the edge of a beautiful flower field, the grassy meadow filled with colorful blossoms that secretly took Levi’s breath away.

The sound of horse hooves caught his attention, and Levi looked up only to have the air fly from his lungs when (Y/N)’s bright face came into view, the stunning woman seated astride whom he assumed to be Sashay and flanked by two armed men.

“Right on time,” the brothel owner grumbled, his little pig eyes narrowing when he saw her passive aggressive smile.

“Of course I’m on time, this is my deal, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the man growled. “Are you sure you want this one? He’s my most popular, I’d hate to lose him.”

“Yes, he’s the one I want. Besides, I believe the money I’ve paid you has far exceeded the profit you have earned from having him around. I’m sure you will be able to manage.”

The man sneered at her but didn’t respond, using the muzzle of the gun to push Levi forward and digging in his pocket to fish out the same pieces of paper he had shown the guards on the stairs, handing them to (Y/N).

“Thank you, sir. I believe we are done here.”

The brothel owner slunk off, casting dark looks at her but refusing to argue as he hunkered off to head back down to the Underground, where he would continue to rot like the rat he was. Levi watched him go before turning to (Y/N), surprised by the bright smile she flashed him when he met her gaze.

“(Y/N)? What’s going on?”

(Y/N) smiled even wider and held up the pieces of paper she had been handed. One of them was the file labeling him as a slave to the brothel owner, keeping him from escaping, and the other was a bill of sale. His eyes widened when he saw her signature on the bottom of both pages, officially registering her as his new owner. He opened his mouth, about to speak when she took both pages in her hands and ripped them in half, letting the torn pages float onto the street below, forgotten, useless.

“There, you’re free now.”

Levi was at a loss for words, his mouth gaping open. “(Y/N)? What-”

“Before you ask me what my intentions are, I’m just going to tell you that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about your life, your sacrifice, your pain, and I decided I could do something about it. You are human, and damn it, you are an important one! I couldn’t just leave you there. Now, you won’t have to work for anyone but yourself. You won’t have to cater to anyone else’s needs and you can fulfill whatever dreams you have.”

“But, that must’ve cost you a fortune, to cover more than the amount of money he’s made off of using me? What about-”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Levi. I want to use my funds for good, put them towards the people who need it the most. That includes you. Especially you. I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to stay in that shit hole for even a second longer than necessary.”

“What do I do now, then?” Levi asked, trying to focus on keeping his voice steady.

“Well, you can do whatever you want now. You’re a free man, you can find a house and settle down somewhere, or you can go back to the Underground and pick up your life where you left off. You can join the military, or you can start a small business here in the square. It’s anything you want. You get to choose your life now.”

“And what if I don’t want to do any of those things?”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face then, her heart filling with warmth. “Like I said, it’s your choice, you can do whatever you want, carve your own path, but if you want to come with me, you’re always welcome to.”

Levi’s lip twitched and he took a step forward, reaching up to pat Sashay’s muzzle as he got closer. “Alright, I’ll follow you.”

(Y/N) beamed before turning around to nod at each one of her guards, dismissing them. When they had left, presumably returning to (Y/N)’s family estate, she reached down for him, her hand extended for him to take. Placing his rough palm into her warm hand, he allowed her to help him up into the saddle behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist to keep himself secure as (Y/N) kicked Sashay into an easy canter. Sighing blissfully, Levi let himself relax, his chin coming down to rest on (Y/N)’s shoulder as they made their way home, together.

Levi had never expected to see the day when he would willingly go with a noble, but then again, he never thought he’d ever meet a noble like (Y/N). Now, as he felt her warmth soak into his chest, he knew he’d made the right decision.

Levi finally felt the remnant effects of the drugs in his system fade away as the sun beams broke through the fluffy clouds in the sky, leaving his mind clear. He was making this decision all on his own, nothing left to impair his judgement, and no matter what, he knew he would never regret the path he chose to take just so long as (Y/N) stayed by his side.

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 4

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 4 - Fun

Words: 5.7k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: The biggest warning I can give is that this was my first ever attempt at smut - ever. Mutual masturbation, one party technically unconsented.

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

~

It was paradise and torture, all rolled into one.

He looked unbearably delicious sitting on the ‘fresher stool, facing away, towel draped carefully below his waist. Steam rose in swirling clouds from the floor around him, making the air heavy as I drew in slow, measured breaths.

Poe didn’t look up as I moved past the open curtain, and I could only assume it was because he felt as uneasy as I did. Without much control over myself, my eyes traced the droplets wriggling down his back over his now unwound muscles, wanting nothing more than to draw my fingers over, to feel his smooth skin on the tips.

It was all so enticing, and the throb in my centre becoming harder to ignore. I was forced to put more thought into my movements as I stepped towards the shelf in front of Poe, wondering if he noticed the side glances I attempted to get a better view.

Now is not the time Alexys.

The remark shook me back into sensible thinking, realising Poe was in a vulnerable position, and he trusted me enough to see him like this. He wouldn’t want to be gawked at - he genuinely needed assistance.

With a newfound sense of responsibility, I took the shampoo from the shelf and rounded back behind Poe’s head, his hair glistening with moisture, looking at nothing but my hands. He was silent along with me, probably bracing himself for this stranger to mangle their fingers awkwardly into his hair.

I squirted a stream of liquid shampoo on his head, the icy temperature of it making him tense for a moment, noticing when he raised his bandaged hand to grasp the side railing of the chair. Timidly I began to run my fingers through the portion of I’d covered, building the soap up into a foam, continuing to spread it through the rest of his wettened mop.

There was a warmth that soon arrived, spreading through my chest as I drew my fingers in and out, a warmth that felt less salacious and more… kind. And it would have stayed that way if Poe hadn’t hummed a low moan.

Oh maker, you are not making this easy.

As soon as it bristled past his lips he bolted upright.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, evidently surprised himself at the sound he’d made. “No one has washed my hair before, I mean if you don’t count my parents when I was a child. It just felt... nice.”

I didn’t respond, making the air hang thick with our silence. Nothing I could say was going to make the moment any less awkward for the both of us.

After briefly stopping the twirling movement of my fingers following the… sound, I continued my lather over his scalp, making sure every particle of dirt, sweat and most likely blood was caught in the froth of soap.

When content with my work I reached over his shoulder and unhooked the detachable shower head, my eyes still trained on anything other than his bare skin. After angling it down, I pressed the start button on the handle, the flow of water hitting my bare feet as I made sure the water was an acceptable temperature before letting the cascade of soapy water rush down his spine.

With my hand I began to guide him to tilt back so I could safely wash out the soap just above his forehead. In this position I could see more of his face, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, eyebrows wrinkled like he was uncomfortable.

“Is the water too hot?” I peeped, pulling the shower head away.

His eyes opened in a flash, startled by my question. “No! Not at all! I was just lost in thought about… Uh… How to fix BB-8. It’s fine, really.” He shifted in the chair, his bandaged arm still gripping onto the rail while his casted arm rested rigidly over his lap. As I moved the water stream back to his hair, his eyes closed again, this time without the tautness I’d noticed before.

After all the shampoo had been thoroughly rinsed I began the process again, only this time with conditioner. I didn’t ask if he actually wanted it, since it was more out of my own habit, but he didn’t stop me when I grabbed the bottle and jetted the thicker liquid into his hair, continuing to slowly massage it into his tresses.

It became somewhat relaxing, methodically weaving my fingers to evenly spread the silky lotion to every strand. He moved uneasily again, and I noticed the hand holding the rail was clutching tightly, his bicep tensed hard.

Maybe I’m terrible at this.

Deciding it was time to finish this embarrassing experience, I started up the water and rinsed Poe’s head free of conditioner, again seeing the strain washing over his face as he leaned back, like he was trying to conceal it from my view.

I rustled a fresh towel over his scalp, leaving his hair only slightly dampened. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I mumbled. “I’m not used to washing patients’ hair.”

Poe immediately twisted his torso, looking up to my face. I gritted my teeth as I registered his contracted abdominals. “What are you talking about? You didn’t hurt me.”

My eyes flickered to his arm. “You just seemed really... tense.”

“Uh,” Poe mouthed, the sound muted. I watched his eyes move down my chest, pupils swollen against his brown irises. He didn’t continue. He seemed lost for words.

I followed the trail his stare had made down my torso, sucking in an alarmed breath. I’d diverted so much of my thoughts towards Poe I hadn’t recognised the spray of water that’d soaked through my white cotton shirt, my bra now starkly visible through the dampened fabric. The cloth clung tightly to the curves of my breasts, leaving extremely little to imagination.

Of-fracking-course.

I laughed. A body shaking cackle that bounced off the tiled walls around us.

Any embarrassment in me simmered to hilarity at the thought of Poe’s face with my chest readily on show. His illuminating smile continued to flash as he chuckled along with me, and I couldn’t help but relish in it for the moments in which we continued to snicker.

When my laughter died down, I sighed, not exactly attempting to cover myself. He’d already seen what I had on display. “Well I think I’ve done just about as much as I can,” I jested, a smirk still drawn on my lips. “Do you think you can get yourself dressed? There are more night-clothes in the cupboard behind you.”

“I think I can manage,” he grinned back, seemingly relieved at the disruption from whatever tension had risen during this whole endeavour.

And with that, I sauntered out from the ‘fresher, closing the door gently behind me. My heart pounded to the beats of memories dashing into my mind, barely able to strangle a coherent understanding of everything I’d felt. It was all I could deliberate on as I entered my living quarters at the end of the hall and changed into new shirt - navy blue this time. My mind desperately tried to collect all the emotions I had experienced in the last 30 minutes and render some form of comprehension from them.

It was clear, I’d grown unprofessionally attached to Poe, so quickly, and more than any other human I’d encountered.

You like him.

It was a simple answer, yet it felt childish, to have developed a juvenile-like crush so soon after our meeting. I knew it was more to do with his appearance than our limited interactions, even though they were still somewhat endearing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced any of this heart fluttering emotion.

There were a few men that littered my past, but I had yet to experience the all-consuming, overwhelming need for someone that made people do irrational things, and I was sure no-one had ever thought of me in that way.

Only fleetingly had I endured any type of loneliness during my time on Raxus, and it usually passed as I woke to a new day - my work and my patients being wonderful distractions. I’d become so independent, so self-sufficient, that I never yearned to have someone become the centre of my universe.

Come now Alexys. You know that is not the reason why.

I gripped the sheets at the edge of my bed I had found myself sitting on.

You cannot let anyone too close. Not unless you want them to die along with you.

Before I could let the voice cause me to dive into an ocean of panic, I heard the ‘fresher door click closed.

“Alex?” Poe called from the hallway.

My feet planted onto the floor as I stood, letting the anxiety dissipate into the air around me. “Back here Poe.” I listened to his footsteps plod along the floor as he limped towards my living quarters, along with a few quiet huffs of effort. When he came into view at the entrance he still looked as appealing as before, even without his bare skin on show.

“You live in your clinic?” he questioned, looking around the apartment style quarters I’d constructed with the help of a few locals.

It was simple, efficient. The sizable room had everything a normal home would contain, all pulled into one. Kitchenette and dining table to the left, living room with a small two-seater sofa at the back wall, and my bed and closet to the right. A door leading to an ensuite ‘fresher was in the far right corner, one I only used if an overnighter patient was with me.

“It’s so I can still monitor a patient’s condition when they’re unable to return home yet. Remember, I’m the only doctor for thousands of kilometres.” I motioned to the holoscreen on my bedside table that would usually be displaying the vitals for any patients connected to monitor lines. There were only flat lines and zeros there now.

Poe cocked his head. “You don’t ever stop do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Being a doctor, looking after people. Even in your own quarters you’re still in that mode.” He hobbled further into the room, taking in the space around him.

“I’m sure you’re the same with your work for the Resistance.”

“True,” he conceded. “Being in the middle of a war tends to do that to people.”

I couldn’t hold back a cynical snort.

His eyebrows crinkled together. “What did that mean?”

Kriff. I wish I hadn’t done that.

“I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Just tell me,” he grumbled.

I pressed my lips into a hard line. I didn’t really want to start a heated discussion about the futility of this war with a Resistancepilot. But from the interactions I’d had with Poe so far, I doubted he was going to let this go.

“It’s just… Don’t you see the pointlessness of it all? Even if you overcome the First Order – how long will it be before another enemy rises up, or your new leaders become the same ruthless dictators themselves?” My voice grew less apprehensive, straightening myself into a more confident pose. “People are fickle. They change. Their emotions rule them beyond anything else, and because of that they can be manipulated so easily. People who swore fealty to one side can be dragged onto the other. The cycle never ends. There will always be more war, more fighting, more innocent deaths.”

Poe stared at me, bewildered. “You think it’s pointless to fight back against the First Order? People who conquer or destroy planets simply for more power? You’d rather we let them do as they please, letting billionsof innocent people die?”

“No of course not-” I started, already regretting every word I’d said.

“But that’s what you just implied, isn’t it? How can a doctorhave such a bleak view of the galaxy?”

I sighed, more at myself for opening my big mouth. “I’m just a realist Poe. People fight, we can’t help it. And those with the most power will fight to keep it, no matter how. I’ve just… I’ve seen too many people die, or damaged for the rest of their lives, for me to think war can ever generate peace.”

Poe’s eyes narrowed, his demeanour darkening. “You don’t think I’ve seen people, my friends, die or horribly injure themselves? You don’t think I’ve seen what war does? I still want to keep on fighting. I haveto. For the people that I’ve lost, who gave their lives for the rest of us, and the people I could save. Because people deserve a galaxy without a tyrant like Kylo Ren deciding who should live and who should die. Somehow, in your eyes, you think it’s pointless to even try?”

I didn’t have any type of acceptable answer. It was rude of me to point out the flaws of war with someone who had risked their life, and most likely come close to death because of it. “I’m… sorry Poe,” I insisted softly, settling back down on the edge of the bed. “It’s not my place to give my opinion on matters like this. I truly apologise if I offended you.”

I glanced up from twiddling fingers to see his delicately confused expression. He exhaled loudly, as he wobbled painfully to one of the chairs of the circular dining table across the room, straightening his injured leg out to rest it.

“I’m sorry too," he said, exhaling. “I’ve been living my life with the Resistance for so long I forgot there might be people who don’t believe in the cause like we do.”

“It makes sense,” I remarked. “Sometimes you get caught up in the bubble of the world around you, it’s hard to see beyond it.”

He nodded. “That’s very true.”

We sat in silence for a moment, both letting the heated exchange dry out into passing memories. Poe continued to peer around the room, his eyes scanning with a subtle scrutiny. “So what do you do when you’re not being a doctor?” he asked, the fierceness from before completely replaced by his normal cheerful tone.

“You mean in my free time?”

“Yeah. Do you have anything that keeps your mind away from all that... doctor work?”

I felt my face crinkle into confusion. “I… I don’t really.”

His expression mirrored mine. “You don’t have any hobbies? Something you do just for fun?”

“Uh…” I started, raking through my brain for anything I did outside the realm of my work. “Huh. I guess I don’t. I may just be the most boring person alive.”

Poe chuckled, and shook his head. “That’s definitely not true.” He met my eyes, flashing me a comforting grin. “You’re just hyper-focused on your work. Trust me, I get that. Sometimes all I even dream about are war council sessions and my ship interface. But you’ve got to switch off eventually, otherwise you’ll go insane.”

I was slightly dubious at that sentiment, since I’d made it over 4 years without slipping into insanity, but Poe’s question made me take check. Truthfully, I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun, when I felt joy in something other than making ill people better again.

Poe could see my face begin to fall. “Hey come on, let’s try now. You’ve only got me as a patient, and I am in no need for your treatment right now. Think of something you used to do, or always wanted to, and we can have a go of it together.”

His sudden eagerness to help made my heart swell. “Uh... sure. Okay.”

Poe nodded once without speaking, urging me to search through my mind for an idea. But it was hard to think when I kept looking at his face, now melted into an enthusiastic smile. I made my eyes glare at my feet, since they would be significantly less distracting while I attempted to think of a supposedly fun activity.

Even when I’d finished my work for the day, on the rare occasion I had no overnighters staying with me, I simply returned to these quarters to have dinner and prepare myself for sleep. In the moments between, all I tended to do was read over current news and research on my data pad, sometimes flicking through medical texts if I was stumped on how to deal with a patient’s condition, especially when it came to rarer alien species. Generally, I would be so tired from the day that I never needed to pass my time with anything remotely hobby based. My focus would be to eat, use the ‘fresher and settle into an easy slumber.

And in this singular moment, I realised how monotonous it all was.

Poe saw me struggling, although probably not knowing it was at the realisation that I had no idea what fun was anymore. “Okay, how about games? Surely you’ve played at least one holo or card game in your life?”

“Well yeah, but that was years ago, and I don’t have any-” I stopped mid-sentence, the flicker of a memory rising into my mind’s view. “Wait here a second.” Hopping up from my bed, I made my way to the office, switching on the light. A large wooden desk sat in the centre, littered with old patient notes I had been in the middle of updating when my life had been so suddenly interrupted with Poe’s appearance.

I ignored them to walk towards the storage cupboard behind it. It took a few minutes of rummaging through stacks of files and old pieces of obsolete medical equipment to find what I’d come in here for - a small, rectangular metal case the size of my two hands, snatching it from the shelf I’d mindlessly placed it on nearly 3 years ago.

Bringing it back with me into my quarters, I quickly sat at the dining table next to Poe, who turned to face me with a look of intrigue. I opened the case, exposing the contents inside. “An old patient of mine gifted this to me, promised to teach me how to play. He… never got the chance to.”

My mind wandered in the memory of the older gentleman who had been struck down with Quannot’s syndrome, only lasting a few days before his unavoidable death. I recalled how much I mourned his passing, distressed at how little I could do to ease his pain before he left this world.

“Sabbac!” Poe burst, interrupting my sombre reminiscing.

I shook myself back into the current reality. “You know how to play?”

“Of course, almost every being in the galaxy knows how,” he scoffed. Only after he noticed me shifting awkwardly in my seat did he realise what he’d said. “Uh, sorry. Come on, I’ll teach you.” He continued to pull the cards out of the case, laying them out face up in a specific order. “Okay, so this is the Flask suit...”

*

If we were playing for real money, Poe would have put me in the red.

“23? Again? You’re definitely cheating,” I grumbled, huffing into my seat, not for the first time of the evening. After I’d grasped the basic concept of the game, we’d played for hours, time passing quickly in the midst of bluffing and strategy.

Poe was evidently enjoying the immaturity of my tantrum, laughing softly as he pulled the last of my chips towards his already immense pile. “I guess beginner’s luck didn’t really work out for you in this case,” he sniggered.

I pouted, watching him stack the chips neatly in coloured towers. “Well, I’m out. You took me for all I’ve got.”

“But didn’t you have fun?”

I nodded and grinned, conceding even when I’d been horrendously beaten, but was a combination of both him and the game we’d played that made me feel an unfamiliar contentment warm my body. I eyed him marvelling his chips, an expression of pride filling his features. “You really like winning, don’t you?”

“Being with the Resistance, you kind of get used to savouring the wins when they occur. Doesn’t happen exceedingly often.” His thoughts seemed to drift away, and in his face I knew he was pondering over the state of affairs back at base with him missing.

“I have no doubt they’ll be searching day and night for you,” I soothed, hoping I guessed correctly.

Poe attempted a smile, but it dissolved when a large sigh breathed past his lips. “I’m doing my best not to worry. The people there, they’re all smart and capable, but we had a plan… and I haven’t been able to see it through. We were running out of time as it is. I can only imagine how concerned they'll be after not receiving a report in over two day cycles.”

“It’ll be okay,” I said softly, tentatively placing a hand on his upper arm, above where I’d placed the plastic cast. “I know it sounds kind of naïve, but when I’m overwhelmed, especially in my work, I break everything down into smaller problems, and try to face the most pressing one. The big picture doesn’t matter, it’s all about solving the most concerning challenge at the time. And little by little, the whole situation becomes… easier.”

“It does sound a little naïve. But… I like it.”

“It worked for me when I was trying to save you.” I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

Poe didn’t respond. He seemed to ruminate in his own mind, his mouth in a forced, hard line. I watched as his eyes glanced down to where my palm rested around his bicep, then back to me.

His gaze was suddenly heated, smouldering, so intense it locked me into place, a ribbon of flames darting through my veins. I noticed the speckles of gold hidden through his irises, as it occurred to me how close our bodies had become during the time spent sitting at the dining table. The air around felt dense, the only sound I could register my own gradual breathing.

Poe's vision wouldn’t move from mine, his blazing stare a stark difference from the rest of his softened features. It felt as if his movements were in slow motion, the way he lifted his bandaged arm, a hand reaching up to my face.

I remained unmoving, even when my entire being began to flicker with electricity, igniting sparks at every nerve ending on my skin. Fingertips finally touched my cheek, grazing over it so delicately, yet still making the energy glowing through me intensify, as if trying to break free from my body.

Poe began to lean closer, and unconsciously I mirrored his movement, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips on mine.

Stop this Alexys. Stop it now.

The voice caused me to jerk backwards, pulling myself away from Poe’s touch, rising abruptly out of the chair. “This is… this is inappropriate,” I peeped, rushing directly to my ensuite ‘fresher, clicking the door closed. With my back pressed against the door, I slid slowly down until my rear hit the tiled floor.

I could still feel the heat of Poe’s fingertips on my cheek, a painful reminder of what I’d run away from. But the echo of what the voice had demanded still rattled through, and I knew it was right. I knew I couldn’t let myself get too close - I couldn’t give in to the sudden desire that had shimmered inside my chest.

It would cost me my safety, my work, my purpose of being. I’d risked everything to get here, given up all I knew of home. I wouldn’t let it all be in vain on the whim of my emotions.

There was no way to stop it, the lone tear that strolled down my cheek. It was a mere fraction of the sobs I wanted to express, both despair and frustration gripping me in a strangling hold.

With shaking palms held front of me, I traced each creased line in the flesh with my eyes. Not for the first time, I cursed at the energy that flowed through them, unlocked from the depths of my consciousness and healed those who needed it the most, those who would have otherwise died when even the greatest medical care couldn’t save them.

I’d kept it hidden for my whole life, the Force I’d been born with and couldn’t escape from. I’d concealed it from everyone, including my parents, keeping a far enough distance to hold my secret within my mind.

Only two outcomes came with exposure. One being I would be recruited, trained as a Jedi and guilted by the Resistance to join a war I didn’t believe in. The other being hunted by the Sith, or any kind of dark side user, and killed for showing any type of prowess with the Force like so many younglings before, or swayed into the war to fight on their behalf.

There was no way either side would allow me to slip from their grasp once they knew. They would never tolerate my neutrality and let me stay here in the countryside of an Outer Rim planet, doing exactly what I wanted to do. Heal.

Why me? Why did this have to happen to me?

Because you do not want it.

That’s cruel.

Such is life.

*

I wasn’t sure how long I spent sitting on the ‘fresher floor, ceaselessly on the verge of tears, yet never allowing the emotion to fully break. A creeping feeling of humiliation had started to filter in a short time ago as I recounted over and over how abruptly I’d run from Poe.

My eyes hadn’t caught the glimpse his face after I wrenched myself away from his hand, yet all I could do was imagine it now, features struck with shock and rejection. I’d barely heard him leave my quarters after I’d shut myself away, faintly recalling his right leg still making a larger thumping sound when he walked into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

That memory had taken place hours ago, and my body was beginning to ache after another large portion of time connected to hard tile.

The only thing I wished for now was the comfort of my bed, to sleep away this evening and wake to a fresh day. But I couldn’t. There was still a patient to look after. I needed check on Poe’s condition, update vitals, make sure his wounds were still healing. For my own benefit, I would rather wait for the morning when some of the lingering awkwardness would have dissipated, but there was no possibility of sleep without being sure he was still in good health.

Plus, I hadn’t told him about the food supplies waiting in the clinic cupboard. Being so distracted by playing cards I'd never made us dinner, and he needed all the sustenance he could get to heal properly.

With a fragile resolve to get it done and over with, I peeled myself from my sitting position, joints popping at the movement after being inactive for so long. I peered slowly through the door, on the small chance Poe was out there waiting to greet me, but it was just the empty quarters that filled my view.

For a reason I couldn’t discern, I began to tread lightly towards the hallway door, the stillness of night sending a quick shiver down my spine. Before opening it I glanced back at my chronometer on the bedside table.0200.

He was probably asleep by now.

Hesitation washed through me, knowing if that were true I shouldn’t go poking him awake just to assess basic vitals. But the urge was too strong, pushing me to step into the hallway, tip-toeing cautiously over the floor.

I was halfway down when I heard Poe’s low exhale echo through the passageway.

Hm, maybe he was dreaming.

My movements halted, waiting for another sound to confirm my guess. Soon enough, a louder sigh floated towards my ears, tainted with an emotion I couldn’t name.

I continued to tread ever so lightly towards the clinic entrance, noticing the lights had been shut off except for the lamp at Poe’s bedside softly illuminating the room. I shifted carefully closer, almost at the doorway, Poe’s relaxed breaths still filling my ears as I took nimble steps towards the noise.

When a low, breathy moan swirled into the air, my body froze.

The fire in my lower abdomen crackled to life at the sound, making my limbs heavy, locking me where I stood, hidden from view.

Another moan, louder this time, rumbled past Poe’s lips, and I savoured the way it hit my body. My hearing strained to collect every wavelength of sound coming from just outside the hallway entrance. There was movement, a rustling of fabric of some sort, a slight creak of the bed frame.

I could feel my throat growing tighter, fearful of my breath alerting him to my presence, as the realisation of what was happening - what he was doing - finally dug its claws into my skin.

Poe groaned in pleasure as I began to recognise the sound of a repetitive slippery motion over flesh, the flames inside bursting into an inferno, the fever hottest between my legs.

I leant my back on the hallway wall closest to Poe’s hospital bed, fearing my knees would buckle underneath me. His breathing became faster, more passionate, as the pace of his movement grew more rapid.

Inside my mind, I was bombarded with hypothetical images of his body in the next room, a strong hand gripped tightly around the shaft of his length, shifting up and down. The gasps he continued to make fell into time with my imagination, the sound of skin making a slicking friction keeping rhythm with the urgent pumping of his hand I visualised with impeccable realism.

My fingernails scraped at the wall, eyelids shut tightly while Poe’s delicious moans sent shockwaves through my circulatory system. I’d never felt so much lust in my life, knowing if I caught any other male in this vulnerable position I would have scuttled away quickly, mortified. Yet the reality of Poe touching himself a few metres away, not knowing I was here listening to his rising pleasure, made an urgent craving throb between my legs, one that needed to be relieved. Now.

Little care had been paid to my sexual needs in the last 4 years on this planet. Suddenly, it felt like I had to give into it otherwise I might die.

Poe’s breath hitched, a sharp inhale indicating he was getting closer to his peak. The singular noise made me slip my hand down past the border of my leggings and under my panties, sliding a finger down in between my folds. A slick moisture was waiting, more than I’d ever felt in previous encounters.

Dragging two fingers through it, preparing myself, Poe’s groans became hungrier, desperate. As soon as I began the motion of relieving the ache below, fingers gliding gently over my swollen clit, the flames fizzled, only to be replaced with an immense sparkle of electricity radiating from low in my core.

I inhaled sharply, like Poe had done, and hoped he was too lost in his own pleasure to notice the sound I’d made. When the steady noise of his hand running smoothly over his shaft continued without pause, I knew I’d not broken my cover.

My thoughts intensified to him, envisioning his arm tensing as he held himself within his grasp, his chest bare with muscles contracting along with his movements, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin.

Fingertips slid quickly back and forth over my pleasure point as I pictured his face contorted in both effort and enjoyment, his mouth opening only slightly as luscious groans seeped from his throat. I grit my teeth to stop from moaning myself, an undeniable bliss growing stronger with each swirling motion. My chest heaved through silent breaths I couldn’t articulate with noise, mind muddled with overwhelming images of every part of Poe’s body I so desperately wanted to see with my own eyes.

But I refused to move. I didn’t want to break the course of the moment, wishing for nothing more than to hear the sound of his release, knowing it would push me into my own. He wasn’t rushing into it, almost as if savouring this time alone, moans rising only to fall as he slowed his pace again.

I didn’t do the same.

The circling over my clitoris continued to accelerate, tiny instances of my waiting climax peeking their way out every so often, telling me I was getting closer to falling over the edge.

My legs were shaking, being held up by pure resolve to prevent any noise resonating from my body. Poe was speeding up his movement again, but this time he didn’t slow, stuttered sighs escaping his chest, and it hastened my climbing pleasure. I was close, I could feel the tipping point bubbling under the surface of my skin.

Slowly, I heard him growl a few barely comprehensible words.

“Ugh… Alex... yes...”

My release abruptly exploded through me at the sound of my name on his lips, pleasure pulsing in overflowing waves over every portion of flesh. Front teeth bit hard into my bottom lip, preventing the whine I desperately wanted to set free. It was the most intense sensation I’d ever felt, sparks flickering in both the deepest part of my core and the nerves of my limbs, making me shiver in delight.

Quickly, I was all too sensitive, pulling my fingers away, eyeing the sheen of moisture that covered them. My attention was again caught in Poe’s moaning, as he too reached his peak, muted gasps coming in jolts as he finally came, obviously attempting much like me not to make any excessive noise.

Eventually he began to heave in relief, breaths hissing gradually through his teeth. We both stayed in our positions for a minute or so, relishing in the afterglow of our separate orgasms, the flames I’d felt down below settling into smouldering embers.

I was mulling over the pleasure I’d gone without for years, when I heard Poe rustle in his bed, feet softly plodding on the floor. It took two steps for me to finally realise.

He’s coming this way.

~

Next Chapter

Tag list: @tlcwrites @roanniom @foxilayde @blackberries45 @hopeamarsu @caillea @princessxkenobi @leatherboundbirate @blowthatpieceofjunk @mylifeisactuallyamess @poedameronloverx @lightsinthedistancee @paterson-blue

[robininthelabyrinth]

continuation of Star Wars Wangxian AU - on ao3 or tumblr

-

The way of the Sith is the dyad, the rule of two: always two, no more, no less.

A master and an apprentice – one to represent the allure of the Dark Side of the Force, the other to serve as the baited, walking willingly into a trap. A pair of magnets, the moth and the flame; without each other, they were incomplete, unstable, and only together could they be considered complete.

Perhaps, Lan Wangji reflects, he should have considered this fundamental precept more thoroughly.

Certainly earlier.

If he had thought about it earlier, he could have taken steps, measures, something. Anything, really, as long as it wasn’t…

“Hey, Master! You’re back! Did you have a nice trip? Kill lots of people?”

…this.

“No,” Lan Wangji said, in the tones of one who knew suffering. The Dark Side rippled around him, thickening as he poured his frustration and annoyance into it – a complaint shared with the abyss, in a world where rage and despair only made the abyss stronger. “No deaths.”

The Sarlacc didn’t count.

Anyway, Wei Wuxian had been the one to kill it in the end, in order to enable them to escape. He’d almost looked like he’d felt bad about it, too.

Silly fool, Lan Wangji thought with far too much affection.

Though, speaking of silly fools...

Xue Yang grinned at him, his little tiger tooth making the otherwise vicious expression significantly less intimidating. 

Lan Wangji had observed that fact early in their acquaintance, and had resolved never to tell Xue Yang so as to let him continue to be frustrated by the apparently inexplicable fact that people never seemed to take him seriously at first glance. If Xue Yang ever figured it out and confronted him about it, he could even theoretically, at a stretch, justify it as additional Dark Side training.

“Sounds like a wasted trip, then,” he said. “I killed five.”

Lan Wangji met his gaze with a steady one of his own. “I do not recall instructing you to go on a mission.”

“Aww, but Master –”

Lan Wangji was newer to the Dark Side of the Force than Xue Yang, but he had the rigorous training of the Cloud Recesses behind him: he did not even need to reach out deliberately through the Force to oppress Xue Yang, driving him to his knees.

“It was a continuation of an earlier mission, Master! I wouldn’t disobey you intentionally –”

Lan Wangji released him. “Of course you would.”

Xue Yang looked up at him, grin back on his face. “Well, yeah. But not that obviously. I wouldn’t admit it to your face.”

He would, if he thought he could get away with it, and Lan Wangji permitted a look of skepticism to cross his face, though he did not comment aloud. 

“What mission?” he asked instead. Knowing Xue Yang as he did, there were very few missions that he had given in which murder was permissible, much less multiple murders. They were trying to keep a low profile, after all.

Xue Yang bounced to his feet. “I invaded another Hutt palace!” he announced gleefully, his eyes shining like stars. “Dressed up as a bounty hunter and everything!”

Xue Yang had once been a slave on a planet controlled by the Hutts, a dirty sandy place with little compassion for the young and none for the weak – and Xue Yang had been both. He had been bartered from one master to another until one careless owner had crushed his hand and his spirit at the same time, rendering him even more useless and condemning him to a terrible fate. No one wanted damaged goods, no one but those who wanted to break them further.

How Xue Yang went from that to being the apprentice of a self-styled Sith Lord, Lan Wangji was unsure beyond a basic understanding that Xue Yang had somehow risen up from his dire circumstances to massacre the entire clan of that particular owner. They had met only when Xue Yang was already in the midst of his training, a slightly gawky teenage delinquent who’d long ago learned that murder was the first, best, and only answer to all of his problems.

He’d tried to kill Lan Wangji, of course.

The circumstances had been admittedly been rather unusual. The Sith tradition called for dyads, a master and an apprentice in each set (though of course there could be more than one set of Sith, though rarely if ever on a level or in an area where they could challenge each other); the typical way of things for the Sith was that the apprentice struck down the master, rising to take on an apprentice of his own, or that the master tired of the apprentice and lured another promising would-be apprentice into Falling, with the typical test of a new apprentice being the slaughter of the old one.

Lan Wangji was strikingly idiosyncratic in that he had Fallen entirely on his own, without a master to guide him to the Dark Side. 

This did not mean he was without knowledge: the Lan sect, which prized learning, of course had a rich collection of treatises on what the Dark Side entailed, although they were meant to be read as warnings rather than guides. After he had had the Force vision of that terrible future, the future he would Fall to the Dark Side, had Fallen, rather than permit to take place, Lan Wangji had stolen several before departing the Cloud Recesses.

It was little surprise, then, that Xue Yang’s old master had put such effort into recruiting Lan Wangji as his own apprentice once he had discovered him.

Lan Wangji had had no patience for such nonsense. Rather than slaughter Xue Yang, who had clearly been incited against him, he had followed the traces back to their origin and killed the Sith master that Xue Yang followed instead.

Unfortunately, per the rule of two, that left Xue Yang without a master and Lan Wangji with the horrible realization that would-be Sith masters would be crawling out of the woodwork to attack him on a regular basis if he didn’t put himself in a dyad at once to prevent it. In the interest of not being harassed, and thereby distracted from his plans, he had recruited Xue Yang as his own apprentice, skipping the apprentice step entirely and becoming a master.

Perhaps that was why Wei Wuxian had called him a Sith lord, he mused. Wei Wuxian was sensitive to the Force, talented in it almost to extremes; maybe he could tell that Lan Wangji was in a position of dominance, rather than growth.

“ – it was great. Even with all the warnings from previous incidents, they were so arrogant, thinking it would never happen to them. Rotten slugs! The leader had a rancor in the dungeon under his throne, too; the thing was kept half-starved so that it’d turn on anyone that got dropped into its nest – wretched little space, I could barely move, much less a rancor –”

“I take it from your explanation that we now own a rancor,” Lan Wangji said, feeling somewhat pained.

Pained, but also gratified: he had been working on teaching Xue Yang the concept of empathy, reasoning that the truly psychopathic would never truly be able to connect with the rage, suffering, and pain that powered the Dark Side of the Force.

Only once Xue Yang understood love, understood it and lost it, could he truly understand the Dark Side as Lan Wangji did.

A pet was a good start.

“Uh, maybe? I mean, rancors are from Dathomir, which is pretty steeped in the Dark Side, so it’s almost like they’re a natural ally of the Sith –”

Rancors were semi-sentient five-meter tall reptiles that resembled boulders, with armored hides that could resist blasters and even light sabers at times, and while it was true that their home planet was rich in the Dark Side, home of assassins and Nightkin and murderers of all sorts, rancors themselves were actually quite friendly and non-combative as a general rule.

Not that Xue Yang knew that. 

“You will care for it yourself, without disturbing me,” Lan Wangji instructed, not wanting Xue Yang to dwell too long on whether or not what he had done was appropriate. Some people could only be coaxed, not coerced; Xue Yang’s former master had very nearly ruined him, teaching him all the wrong lessons about divesting oneself of emotions (the Sith way, of course: no emotions but hate) without any of the necessary context, and any future education needed to done cautiously to avoid Xue Yang becoming utterly consumed by the abyss, capable of nothing but lashing out, a rabid dog in need of being put down.

Lan Wangji was not in the market for another Sith apprentice.

Xue Yang, at least, was easy to manage: as long as he was permitted to vent his more murderous inclinations in the way he liked the most, pursuing the vile Hutt clan wherever they had set up their gangster dens full of corruption and rot, his attempts to overthrow Lan Wangji were half-hearted and disinterested, and the worst Lan Wangji would need to put up with was a bit of back talk.

“Of course,” Xue Yang said, grinning with teeth. “Wouldn’t want to keep you from your boy, would we?”

…not that the back talk wasn’t annoying.

“You are not permitted to speak of him,” Lan Wangji said coldly, but that never worked for very long. Xue Yang was an extremely disrespectful apprentice, although Lan Wangji supposed it was his own fault for rejecting the rigid hierarchy of the traditional master-apprentice relationship – of the entire concept of the Sith lord and the classist structure generally associated with it – and encouraging Xue Yang to similarly reject such things in favor of the anarchy of self-determination. “He is not yours to even think of.”

Perhaps a wiser man might refuse to let Xue Yang even know of such a weakness, but Lan Wangji was moderately sure that in an even fight – or even an uneven one – Wei Wuxian would have no difficulty putting Lan Wangji’s unruly, unwanted apprentice in his place.

“Yeah, yeah,” Xue Yang laughed. “I know: hands off, no touching. I still don’t get it. What’s so great about this one guy? The universe is full of people, even force-sensitives; if you’re so hung up on having a Jedi, why not go find one that’s a little more compromising?”

Because there is no one else like Wei Ying. There will never be anyone else for me, not ever – only him.

“One day you will meet someone who moves you,” Lan Wangji said placidly, a touch of his old talent for Force visions shimmering in his soul in confirmation of the dimly uncertain future. “And we will have this conversation again, when at last you understand.”

“Sure,” Xue Yang said, clearly disbelieving. “Whatever. Let me tell you about these two bounty hunters I met on my trip – a matched set, one in white and one in black - fuck, they were so annoying, you wouldn’t even believe –”

[vventure]

Kiss it Better

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader

Characters are aged to 20+

Warnings: SMUT [biting kink, unprotected sex], jealousy angst, toxic relationship, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I need to work on my smut, but I was listening to kind of angsty songs after work and this popped into my head and I couldn’t not do it. It’s based on Kiss it Better by Rihanna. Sorry if it’s shit, literally no one asked for my work addled brain to do this. Also, way too afraid to tag anyone in this lmao

Been waiting on that sunshine boy, I think I need that back

Can't do it like that

No one else gonna get it like that

The alcohol was making her head feel like air as she stepped out onto the dark dance floor. Green and purple lights shot around the club, their beams illuminated by the smoke that was filling the confined room. Bodies writhed together to an R&B song, and [y/n] was glad she chose this club in particular; nothing could make her feel sensual and ready to dance quite like the music she was hearing now. 

Worming her way through the packed crowd, she found her friends and swayed her hips back and forth to the rhythm, allowing her body to dip during the middle of the swing, accentuating her ass she hoped. Her girlfriends laughed and grabbed her hands so they could mimic each other’s movements. It wasn’t long before a pair of hands settled on [y/n]’s hips, guiding her to turn around to face a very handsome man dressed in a black v-neck and dark jeans, his grey eyes sparkling in the neon lights. Her friends giggled behind her as they continued dancing.

Wrapping her arms around her new dancing partner’s neck, she ground her pelvis into his, and he had to grip her tighter to keep her on her drunk feet. She giggled into his chest as he held her close, swaying her hips back and forth much like she had been before. This seemed fun in her slightly tipsy state, but the little voice at the back of her mind whispered about how stupid she looked and how wanton she seemed with a stranger; the voice was quickly tamped down as the stranger lifted her chin to look at him. He pressed his forehead to hers, allowing their noses to touch and their lips to be separated only by a breath. 

At that moment, a strong hand gripped her arm, the other going to sock the man in the face. She whirled on the intruder, coming face-to-face with none other than her fuck buddy pro-hero Red Riot, Eijirou Kirishima. He looked livid as he pulled her from the club, waving a curt goodbye to her friends, and pushed her into the passenger seat of his black sports car.

So I argue, you yell

The night air did wonders to sober her up a bit more as she walked up to her apartment with Kirishima close on her heels. She slipped in and tried to slam the door in his face but his foot was able to wedge into the frame in time for him to stop her. Following her inside, he slammed it behind him, making the pictures on her walls shake with the force of it.

“I can’t believe I let you manhandle me like that, Eijirou,” she spat as she retreated to her kitchen to grab a glass of cold water. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I could ask you the same fucking question, [y/n]. Why didn’t you just tell me you had a new fuck buddy?”

“You are not talking about that guy at the club.” Kirishima didn’t have an answer for her so she pressed on. “He was a stranger! And why were you there anyway?”

“Pretty damn close for a stranger,” he shouted, his sharp teeth gnashing over every word. “And it’s none of your business, you’re not my fucking keeper.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who literally kidnapped me from a club just to scream at me in my own home.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking whore I wouldn’t have to do shit like this!”

Before her brain could stop her, she threw the semi-filled glass of water straight at the raging redhead, who used his quirk to swat it against the wall where it shattered into a million glittering pieces. A low growl left his mouth as his eyes bored into her soul.

“You are not my father, or my boyfriend, or even my friend, Eijirou!” Tears pricked at her eyes from the words he’d used against her. The man had never even degraded her during sex but apparently all bets were off when fighting. A lone tear ran down her face as she stared at him from across the room. “You aren’t allowed to be jealous!”

In the blink of an eye Kirishima closed the distance between them, gripping her cheeks as he crashed his lips to hers.

But you take me back

Who cares when it feels like crack?

Boy you know that you always do it right

Kirishima easily lifted her off the ground and slammed her back against the nearest wall, almost knocking all the air out of her as he kept his lips on hers. He moved his mouth away to bite down on her neck, making her gasp out a moan and wrap her legs around his back. Her nails dug into his biceps as he continued to leave large bite marks along her supple skin which he barely stopped to lick at before moving to an unmarked area. 

“Eiji--” Her words came out in a moan urging the pro-hero to rut his hips up into her crotch. His hardened member was evident as she tried to grind down to meet it, but his hands were bruisingly gripping her hips.

“You’ll get that when I decide you’ll get that,” he growled against her skin sending delicious vibrations through her chest. Kirishima unceremoniously ripped her cheap dress from her body, freeing her black lace bra holding his favorite part of hers from its confines. His hands gripped at the top of the cup, the lace soft against his palm.

“Don’t you dare, Eijirou,” she warned. But he was punishing her for making him jealous and so he pulled the bra from her body roughly, tearing the cup and rendering the clasps at the back useless. Before she could protest further, he sucked her right nipple into his mouth and she groaned at the contact. His tongue ran circles around the hardening bud before he bit down on it with his sharp teeth eliciting a scream of pain and pleasure from her as her fingers wove into his styled hair. She gave his short locks a tug, causing him to switch to her other nipple, giving it similar treatment, but this time he sucked marks into the area surrounding it. Her moans were amplified as he reached around her thigh to paw at her soaked panties.

“Does me getting pissed excite you, babygirl?” He asked, trailing bites down the valley of her breasts as his fingers stroked up and down her clothed slit. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Man, fuck your pride

Just take it on back, boy take it on back boy

Take it back all night

Just take it on back, take it on back

Kirishima flung her down onto her couch, tearing away the rest of her dress to reveal a pair of black panties, the dark material growing ever darker in the crotch.

“So you were planning on getting fucked tonight,” he growled, his eyes narrowing at her as she clamped her legs together to try to get some friction on her aching clit. “You’re gonna find out that no one can fuck you like I can.”

Kneeling between her legs at the edge of the couch, Kirishima bit into the thin material covering her core, sucking the juices into his mouth which he savored while destroying her underwear. His tongue shot out to give a tentative lick to her folds, circling lithely around her hole before traveling teasingly slowly up to the bundle of nerves he knew so well.

“God--fuck--Ei--” He pulled from her as he sucked harshly on the little button, her legs began to quake. She could feel her stomach tightening as he pushed her toward her release so quickly. His teeth grazed against her clit and her back arched off the sofa as she came into his mouth. Delving his tongue into her core, he collected the fluids there and gulped them down like he hadn’t drank anything all day making her moan and grip at the fabric of her furniture.

Kirishima slipped one of his fingers into her tight cunt, pistoning it in and out slowly, making sure to hit her g-spot occasionally; he wanted to bring her to another release but wanted to drag it out as much as possible for his own enjoyment. His crimson eyes glared up at her from between her thighs as he inserted a second finger, still going painfully slowly in and out of her sore cunt as his tongue lashed against her clit.

“Please--please Eiji fast-ah-faster,” she yelped, her head slamming back as his fingers pressed harshly against the spongy spot inside her before pulling out again.

“You’re so wet, [y/n] you taste so good sweetheart,” he cooed, his mouth covered in your release. “One more before you get this cock.”

She groaned at his filthy words, her hips bucking up into his hands causing him to press down on her stomach to keep her still as he ran his tongue up and down her slit. Feeling her stomach tighten, she reached down to hold Kirishima’s face against her heat, practically suffocating him in her folds as he continued fingering and licking her. The sensation of having to pee hit her right before he fingered her g-spot, making her see white. When she’d come down from the second orgasm, she saw that liquid was dripping from his face and he had a cocky smile.

“That’s fucking right. Who else is gonna make you squirt, baby?”

Mmm, do what you gotta do, keep me up all night

Hurting vibe, man, and it hurts inside when I look you in your eye

“Please, Eiji. I need you right now,” she pled with her lover as he lazily looked over the mess he’d made of her. A fierce blush was coating her body, sweat dripping on her forehead and her own arousal slipping between her legs. He could look at this scene all day, but his cock was starting to throb with neglect. Placing her foot against the straining bulge in his pants, she snapped him out of his stupor, letting out a low growl and slapping her foot away.

“Have some fucking patience, [y/n].”

“I think I’ve waited long enough, Eijirou. Are you just going to tease me all night?”

“You’re such a brat,” he said, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants sag to the floor. She was shocked at just how wet he’d made his boxers with his precum while he was ravishing her with his mouth and hands. Hissing as he did so, he pulled down the boxers, his cock slapping against his abdomen and leaking precum along his black happy trail; she bit her lip at the sight.

Lining himself up with her sopping core he pressed into her to the hilt, her ample juices allowing for easy access to the back of her cunt. He groaned as she forced her aching core to clench down on his massive cock, then started yet another slow pace with his thrusts.

“You’re fucking killing me tonight, Red Riot.”

“You needed a lesson--hah--” He started, his sentence cut off by a sharp clenching of her walls around him. “So I’m giving you a lesson.”

She whined in response, wrapping her legs around his hips and locking them into place so his thrusts would be shallower, allowing the veins along his engorged member to caress her walls with each short stroke. This was the only way that she’d get any semblance of control, and she wanted to show that she wasn’t done being annoyed with his antics. In response, he pulled her legs from behind him and placed them over his shoulders, his cock hitting ever deeper inside of her, making her groan as her eyes rolled back. Leaning down, he pressed a searing kiss to her lips as he started to play with her nipples, pulling and pinching them with his free hands as his cock stroked in and out of her puffy cunt.

“I know every inch of this body,” he said, thrusting into her harshly to punctuate his words, his hands moving to anchor himself on her breasts and they bounced with each thrust. “I fucking love you, [y/n].”

What are you willing to do

Oh tell me what you're willing to do? (Kiss it, kiss it better, baby)

Oh what are you willing to do?

Oh, tell me what you're willing to do?

Snapping her eyes open at his words, she took in his blissed out face and assumed that he hadn’t meant what he’d just said. That hope was dashed as he opened his mouth and his thrusts stopped.

“I--” he stuttered.

“I love you too, you fucking idiot,” she spat, grinding her hips against his. “But now is not the time to discuss this, can you please fuck me!?”

Those words made him pound into her, his hands moving to run circles against her clit as he stared at her in awe. Her walls clenched as her release hit her, trying to suck every last drop of his release up for herself. He toppled over the edge, releasing his seed into her cunt before collapsing on top of her, kissing her deeply. As she recovered from her third orgasm of the night, he kissed every one of the bite marks he’d left.

Kiss it, kiss it better, baby

[aion-rsa]

How Malignant’s Monster Calls Back to Stephen King

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This Malignant article contains spoilers.

Malignant has a twist so wild you need to see it to believe it. Seriously, stop reading right now if you have even the faintest interest in watching James Wan‘s latest horror offering. You really don’t want to spoil this for yourself. Sure, you’ll either really love or absolutely hate the movie’s batshit third act, but the experience of watching the twist for the first time is worth the price of admission.

If you have watched the movie, maybe you left as astonished as I did. After all, the first two thirds of the movie play like a standard giallo-inspired slasher film before things go completely off the rails. You might say that some of the clues were there all along — indeed they are, maybe you saw this coming from a mile away — but when you thought you’d put it all together, did you really expect Wan to go through with something so ridiculous? I certainly said, “No, that can’t be it” to myself midway through the movie when the clues started adding up. It’s a new direction for Wan to be sure…

But Wan’s first trip into a new sub-genre of horror isn’t necessarily without outside influence. There’s a bit of David Cronenberg mixed with hints of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but for the most obvious inspiration you have to look to the King of Horror himself.

Before we talk about Stephen King, you might be wondering what the hell was going on with Gabriel in the first place.

Gabriel Origin Explained

Safari Riot’s cover of the classic Pixies song “Where Is My Mind” seems so out of place when it first blasts through a scene in the movie, an over-the-top accompaniment to what seems like your standard slasher flick, but it’s actually incredibly appropriate — not just for the massive tone shift but the plot itself. (“Where Is My Mind” is also the iconic tune that accompanies the final scene of Fight Club, another tale of split personalities.) Madison’s (Annabelle Wallis) mind has been playing tricks on her (and the audience) the entire time. She thinks her creepy childhood imaginary friend Gabriel has somehow taken corporeal form and started murdering everyone who had a hand in “separating” him from her. But little does Madison know that the separation was much more literal than her simply forgetting a figment of her imagination when her baby sister Syndey (Maddie Hasson) was born.

It’s Sydney who discovers the truth when she goes back to the institution where Madison spent her early childhood before being adopted by their mother Jeanne (Susanna Thompson). In the basement of the abandoned Simion Research Hospital, Sydney finds the harrowing tapes that reveal Madison’s past with her “imaginary friend.”

Madison was born Emily May to a 15-year-old girl named Serena (Jean Louise Kelly as an adult, Madison Wolfe as a teen) who is forced to give her away to the institution by her mother due to Emily’s…medical condition. In a stunningly gruesome sequence of body horror, we learn that Emily was born with a parasitic twin attached to her head and spinal cord, which allows it to control her movements and thoughts. The doctors at Simion at first diagnose Gabriel as a “massive teratoma,” a malignant tumor that can grow with fully developed organs and tissue, but as we see in the movie’s opening sequence, they soon learn that this is something much worse and decide to cut him out off of Emily for good.

But they can’t get rid of Gabriel completely. Because the siblings attached at the brain, the doctors are forced to remove as much of Gabriel as they can, hiding what’s left inside her skull. Of course that means that Gabriel never truly goes away. He continues to speak to Emily, now Madison, from inside her head, at one point almost convincing her to kill Jeanne while pregnant with Sydney.

While Madison eventually forgets her “imaginary friend” as an adult, Gabriel returns after Madison’s piece of shit husband Derek (Jake Abel) brutally slams her head against a wall during an altercation. (Let’s just say I’m glad he’s dead.) The injury reawakens what’s left of Gabriel, who can reemerge through her head wound to control and contort Madison’s body and go on his killing spree. Madison experiences these murders as visions, as she watches her sibling slash his way through all the doctors that tried to destroy him as well as the mother who gave him away in the first place. Madison’s only able to stop him after he’s already massacred a police station full of cops and prisoners and made his way to the hospital to kill Sydney and Serena. Using the mental link she has with Gabriel, Madison manages to lock her sibling away, promising that next time he reemerges, she’ll “be ready for him,” setting up an inevitable sequel and a new horror franchise for Wan.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Gabriel and the Dark Half

Constant Readers will undoubtedly spend the weekend pointing out that Gabriel’s plot to control his sister in order to go on a murder spree is very reminiscent of one of Stephen King’s most famous books and movies, The Dark Half. The book and the movie directed by the late, great George A. Romero tells the story of Thad Beaumont (played by Timothy Hutton in the film), a writer of literary fiction in a bit of a slump by day. But he has a far more successful career by night as the author of dark crime novels under the pen name “George Stark.” Yet, the success of his Stark books feels like a curse to Thad, who is driven to heavy drinking and other vices when “the spell” of Stark’s prose. Now, a recovering alcoholic, Thad wishes to leave Stark behind and just write the literary fiction his agent and editor deem “boring.”

When the truth about Thad’s pen name comes out, the writer sees the perfect way to bury his career as George Stark once and for all — by throwing his pseudonym an actual funeral at the local cemetery. But Mr. Stark doesn’t like that very much. Thad’s pen name inexplicably “rises from the grave” to kill everyone he blames for his death — Thad’s editor, agent, and more.

You’re probably thinking it was Thad all along, but this is more than just another case of split personalities. Like in Wan’s latest, Stark was once actually very real, the sibling Thad absorbed in utero…except for a couple of teeth and an eye living inside of Thad’s brain. The “tumor” is removed from Thad’s head as a child, but he’s somehow unknowingly kept the spirit of his sibling alive through the books he writers, undoubtedly under Stark’s dark influence. It’s the kind of gory, supernatural twist King is best known for, and Wan sets out to celebrate the book with style. Mind you, this obviously isn’t a direct adaptation of King’s work but more like a spiritual successor to the book that pushes the plot much further into the ridiculous than even the writer did in 1989. Leave it to Wan to dream up an action sequence where a backwards (literally), contorting serial killer stabs his way through a building full of people to the sound of shredding guitars.

Even if you think Malignant‘s third act twist is an absolute mess, I’d argue it’s at least an interesting mess, a daring experiment in a corner of the horror genre we’ve not seen enough of in the past few years. Will this experiment lead to a new movement in body horror movies just as Saw for better or worse inspired years of “torture porn” movies and The Conjuring brought us the horror expanded universe? That remains to be seen. At the very least, Malignant is the kind of movie you’ll want to debate about with your friends as you exit the theater, even if it’s just to say you absolutely hated the twist. Aren’t you at least glad you saw it for yourself? The twist just isn’t as good on paper.

Malignant is out now in theaters and streaming on HBO Max.

The post How Malignant’s Monster Calls Back to Stephen King appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3twQgAE

[mm2305]

The anniversary

Fandom : Lucifer (tv series)

Warnings / words : none this is pure fluff / 2.1 k

Pairings : Lucifer Morningstar x Chloe Decker 

Disclaimer : none of these characters are mine ,rights to the rightful owners

Description :  After Lucifer's return from Hell, Chloe has made preparations for their six month anniversary as a couple.

Author’s note : Hello everyone! I wrote and posted this back in June but I just realised I only posted the link to the ao3 and never the fic itself! Better late than never right? English is not my first language so please be kind. Also a big thank you to my amazing beta @forever5hines  / @tossacointoyourmorningstar .

Enjoy!

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

It's funny how life turns out, isn't it? If someone had told Chloe 4 years ago that she would fall in love with that jerk, Lucifer Morningstar, she would have laughed in their faces. But here she is, shopping for their six month anniversary.

There were several obstacles in their way. The more they worked together, the more Chloe liked him. He had adopted the character of a playboy, a diva, but it wasn't exactly who he was. He was all these, but he was also smart, honest, respectful and supportive. He had a softer side which he chose to hide, in order not to get hurt. The only one who broke through his facade, was her. From then on, he did everything in his power to keep her safe. Dealt with Malcolm, his mom, his brother, Cain, went to Hell twice to save her.

When she learned the truth though,she ran and conspired with Kinley, tried to poison him. Betrayed him. Abandoned him. Even though they continued to work together after a while, nothing was the same anymore. She realized that she was in love with him and as  time went by, she accepted him too. All his sides. The good, the bad and the crispy.

He had to leave though. That night at the balcony she finally told him she loved him. Even though she begged him to stay, he left. It was partly her fault, because she brought Kinley to Los Angeles. Kinley then brought the demons up to Earth. She understood why he left. The demons had to be contained. And only Lucifer could do that.

Six months later, he came back, putting an end to both his and her misery. From then on, they began talking about their feelings and visited Linda a few times. In the end though, they decided to get into a relationship.

They were happier than ever before. Worked together, spent lots of time with each other, had dates. Of course, they had their problems too. Lucifer was still struggling to believe that there were people in his life who loved and appreciated him. To him, it seemed like a good dream, that's bound to end very soon. Chloe reassured him many times,but the feeling remained rooted deep in his heart. Chloe, on the other hand, was dealing with her own guilt. She tried to poison and hurt him. She wondered, even now, why the hell she tried to do that. What she also wondered, was if she was good enough for him. Chloe Decker, a human, a nobody , good enough for the Devil? The Lightbringer? They both had to work on their feelings, that's for sure.

At the moment, she is at a mall with Ella. It's their six month anniversary the next day and she had prepared a dinner at LUX for herself and Lucifer. For this reason, she wanted to get a new dress. Maze was babysitting Trixie and Linda had a therapy session scheduled for a patient. Only Ella was available. The problem is that they've been searching for hours and they've got nothing so far.

"Come on girl, tell me how's the relationship with the Devil going?", Ella inquired.

"It's been good. More than good, actually. He makes me very happy.", she replied smiling.

"I can see that. You're glowing Chloe. He is too. I've told you that I ship Deckerstar, haven't I?"

" Yes Ella. Many, many, many times.  Anyway, I'm telling you, if we don't find anything in the next 30 minutes, then I'm going to wear one of my own dresses. It's been 3 hours and we haven't found anything! " she complained pouting just a little.

" Oh shut up Decker. Look I found this. It's beautiful, isn't it? "

" Mmm… I'll try it. In fact that's the last I'm trying. Then I'm going home. " she said taking the dress from Ella.

When she came out Ella gasped in awe.

" Oh my God! You look gorgeous!", she commented  shocked.

"Really? ", asked Chloe turning around to look at herself in the mirror.

Ella has excellent taste , she thought. No one could deny that. This satin dress was simple but elegant. Not too formal, but still perfect for her purpose. It had a color almost identical to her eyes. Icy-blue. The fabric soft and feeling wonderful on her skin. The dress hugged her figure but it wasn't clingy. It reached to just a little more than her knee. It really was perfect for her.

"I'm getting this.", she decided after a few moments.

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

Lucifer loves speed. It makes him feel free and freedom and free will are things he has and will always stand up for. At the moment, he is racing through the highways of Los Angeles, in the comfort of his beloved, black Corvette,at high speed. The air landing on his face as he passes through the roads, the whole feeling of freedom, still seems incredible to him. That's one of the main reasons he bought a convertible. Something else he loves even more than this though, is his beloved Detective. Chloe. He's known her for years, and she wormed her way into his heart, since the first moment he met her. They've been through a lot. His mom, Cain, her leaving and coming back, and the most recent: him going back to Hell.

The night he left, when she told him she loved him, accepted him completely, he thought his heart would burst out of his chest. Seeing his Detective's tears and pleads for him to stay, broke his heart in a thousand little pieces. However he couldn't risk the safety of his friends and the family he had here. When the problems in Hell were resolved, he came back. Doctor Linda helped him a lot after that. Chloe too. For him it was much much more that six months down there. In the end though, they managed.

Tomorrow is their six month anniversary. He got her a ring. Not an engagement ring. A promise for the future. That he'll always be by her side no matter what. Love her, protect her. Anything she needs,anything she desires. The stone was the exact color of her lovely eyes. A favor called in here and there, helped him achieve his goal.

After a few more minutes going around, he set for LUX. He had a few matters to attend to and he was needed there. He'd meet his Detective tomorrow.

                       *******

When Chloe came back from her shopping spree (she ended up getting a pair of short-heeled shoes, in the same color as the dress), she was exhausted. After taking a quick shower and brushing her teeth, she proceeded to hog the bed, like someone once told her.

Chloe woke up with a smile the next day. Checked if things were going well, ate breakfast, spent some time with Trixie. Then she started getting ready. Followed her skin care routine - the results were amazing, soft skin and all -, showered and shaved thoroughly. Then she dried her hair and styled it into waves. Afterwards, she did her makeup. Simple, not heavy, in light colors. Lastly she put on her dress and shoes. I do look pretty good, she thought while looking at herself one last time at the mirror. She took Lucifer's present with her, too.

One of the very few things she had left from her father were his cufflinks. She wanted to give them to him. Not even Dan knew about their existence. She had gone to a jewelry store to get something extra etched on them. She added an 'M' in the outside and a 'C' on the inside. In this way she wanted him to understand, how much he meant to her. With the 'M' they would become his own , while with the 'C' she wanted him to have a part of her with him. Will he like them though?, she wondered anxiously. To her it was something important, but could that measure up to the person who created the stars? Come on Chloe, relax. It's going to be alright. With that she went out of her house, to get to LUX.

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

Everything was ready. Lucifer's favorite dishes were ready to be served. The candles around, check. The DJ ready to play a special song for tonight, check. Comfortable, low lighting, check. Lucifer…check.

They both gasped at the sight of the other. Lucifer was wearing a black tuxedo, with a white shirt and a red handkerchief. He looked sharp and  very handsome. Chloe was wearing her new dress, looking absolutely gorgeous.

"Darling, you look exquisite," said Lucifer with adoration.

"I could say the same for you too, Lucifer", replied Chloe with a radiant smile.

"How about we sit down babe?"

"Of course, my dear."

After sitting down and getting their food, they made a toast.

" To us. May this be the first anniversary of many more to come"

" To us, love." he replied with a clink of their wine glasses.

They talked about the future, laughed about Trixie's adventures at school and when they finished their dessert they went on to exchange their gifts.

"Lucifer,I didn't buy you anything… Instead, I wanted to give you something special.These are my dad's cufflinks. I added something though...On the outside you'll see an 'M' for 'Morningstar'. On the inside,however, there is a 'C' for 'Chloe'...I wanted I'd give you a "piece" of me through this to have with you… If you don't like it, it is possible to have it changed… I just wanted to give you something that is very important to me, because you are one of the most important people in my life and… "

"Chloe, darling, I love it. In fact, you have rendered me speechless. Thank you so much, my love. ", he interrupted her giving her a genuine smile.

"Do you really like it or are you saying that just to make me happy? I mean, this isn't some of the extravagant things you're used to and I don't know… Maybe you would like something else… ?",she asked him nervously,looking at her feet.

"Chloe, love, look at me.", Lucifer told her lifting her chin to look at her lovely eyes. "You know I don't lie, don't you? Then trust me when I say that this is the best gift I've ever received. I know just how much your dad's death hurt you and by giving me one of his belongings…You've made me so happy and grateful, my dear. So, you don't need to worry about that alright? "

" Okay ", she sighed.

"Now it's my turn," he announced opening the little, black, velvet box. Chloe gasped.

"It isn't an engagement ring. It's my promise to you. I want to promise you that I will always be by your side. Your friend, your partner, your boyfriend, whatever you desire. Protect you, cherish you, support you in everything you do. Anything. You are the light in my life  and you've touched my heart in ways nobody ever has, in my long life. I want you to know I love you so much," he confessed while putting the ring on Chloe's finger.

" Oh Lucifer… I don't know what to say… Thank you, honey. I love you too, " she added hugging him.

"Dance with me? ", she asked him after a few moments.

"Anything for you, my darling. "

Chloe then signaled the DJ to put a very specific song on.

As they swayed, she whispered the lyrics to his ear.

"Do you feel my heart beating,

 Do you understand

 Do you feel the same

Am I only dreaming

Is this burning an eternal flame "

" Do you understand Lucifer? I love you with all my heart and I will always stand  by your side, too. Always.", she whispered teary-eyed but looking straight into his eyes.

"Even if I am the Devil? Who has tortured countless souls in Hell? A monster, like many others think?"

" Even if you are the Devil,who did his job in Hell. The Devil, who has been through many things, but never gave up. The Devil who is loving, adorable, caring, good-hearted and dangerous only to those who hurt his friends and family. The Devil who is a perfect boyfriend and  whom I love with all my heart. ", she replied tearfully.

" I love you too,my Detective. Let's continue dancing, love, shall we? ", he said kissing her sweetly.

And they did. The rest of the night was spent between the two of them. Lost in each other, their emotions, touches and kisses, they continued to sway on the dance floor. In their own, strange for some people, perfect for them, little world.

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

Thank you for reading!!!

[starkeristheendgame]

In The Smoke After War

Set in the immediate aftermath of Homecoming. I don't even have an excuse for this, I was just feeling pitiful so wrote some whump style fic.

TW: Mentions of violence and injury.

Peter stays long enough to make sure Toomes gets placed in the back of the armoured truck safely, for his spine to fuse together enough that he can move. Stays just long enough to watch Happy pull out his phone, hands flapping, to see the phone call become a holo screen of someone's face (Tony. He knows it's Tony, but he can't bring himself to actually think of the consequences of this now) before he crawled gingerly from the top of the ride, agonisingly slow for the way he wanted to run like a spooked horse.

Getting home is impossibly more difficult than fighting Toomes. What little repair his body had managed to his broken spine and ribs was fast undone by fists and metal wings, and it renders swinging almost entirely out of the question.

But beaten, bloody and in his Spiderman suit he can hardly just stroll through the streets home. Even in the early night with distracting explosions, people are always around. New York is the city that never sleeps, never mind Las Vegas or Seattle.

So he limped through the shadows, hunched and huddled in on hinself. He had to; his ribs were shifting with every minute movement and the blood was bright and iron on his tongue. People hurried past him or ignored him completely. Both were fine by him. Four blocks from his apartment a man in a long coat cast him a sour glance and strode past with a mutter of fucking dosed up junkie.

Blessedly, so blessedly because he hadn't even thought this far yet, Aunt May was gone by the time Peter crawled through his bedroom window, teeth on his tongue to imprison the pitiful cries of his pain. An emergency shift at the hospital, he supposed. With the influx of 'enhanced people' so came hand in hand the need for medical staff.

Peter went to the kitchen, first. Choked down a small cup of water and a handful of leftover chicken for energy. And to line his stomach for the painkillers that came next, bitter and dry on his tongue. He'd have to mop up the dirt and blood he left in his wake, but he could do that in due time.

The shower was loud to his ears. Too loud, but a consequence he'd have to suffer. The sand ground sharp and itchy in his wounds and the smell of bloodsmokedirtsaltmetal had sunk into his bones.

Peeling off his suit, he allowed the tears to fall. The skin he exposed inch by painful inch was red, blue, purple. Raw and bloody. It made him ache for the Mark II as Tony called it; the absorbent armour and it's warming fleece. His teeth chattered and sent bolts of pain through his jaw as he forced his legs up, over the edge of the tub.

Standing was an ask too great of his body, so he simply sank, folding like a wet paper boat over the edge of the tub. Curling in a ball was instinct, the spray hitting his spine where it rained down like fire. But fire was cleansing, and he burned willingly.

He let his arms loll and his cheek fall to his bicep, eyes shutting to the barrage on his senses and body. Exhaustion was an anchor that tried to drag him down and pain was the relentless engine that dragged him onwards.

Perhaps those were the reasons he didn't hear the front door open, why the whisper of armour on expensive cotton was lost to the white noise roar in his ears. It was only the door shutting that reached him, the footsteps on that worn old linoleum.

Panic.

Pain.

Fear.

Peter choked on a sob, shifted in a tiny movement to lean over, fingertips straining for the suit that lay crumpled on the floor. But he was too far to grasp it without rising to his knees, without stretching over the tub rim, and the door opened on his pathetic straining.

At any other time he would have protested such an invasion. What man, moon-sized ego or not, simply walked in on a running shower?

But Tony's mouth was a grim line and his shades were the dark red of war and Peter could do nothing but collapse, folding over the tub rim with a sniffle and a wheeze that had a glob of blood drooling from his mouth, dripping down onto the back of his hand and running between his fingers.

"C-can it wait. Ple-ase" he managed pathetically, gaze downcast and away. Whatever punishment Tony deemed fit could wait until he wasn't naked, at the least. Whatever other harsh words and abandonment or threats were his dues, he would collect when his spine no longer sat four degrees out of alignment.

Hands. Warm, both a knife and a feather to his charred skin. He couldn't stop the whimper, the struggled inhale of aftershave and peppermint.

"Do you trust me?"

Peter gave a single, short nod even as he tried to doubt the instinct. He couldn't deny it, though. A primal, base trust lay in Tony that not even the rooftop nightmare could have hacked apart. He ought to take it back. To be barbed like Tony had never wanted him to be. Snapping teeth and no faith.

A sharp, immediate point of pain to his shoulder, and the roar faded to a hum, to a quiet and a darkness that not even the jagged drag of his breaths could reach. A blessed empty that consumed him whole.

Waking up didn't hurt as much as he might have expected it to, if he had known that trust was a syringe of anaesthetic. Engineered to combat the hypermetabolism of his body not unlike those designed for Captain America (not a bad man, like Tony had said. Just a man. A man driven to that feral, desperate place life had a habit of forcing all good men into).

Breathing ached but no longer burned. His spine was hot with dulled pain but no longer felt like it was torn from his fragile skin. His tongue tasted like antiseptic and fake banana over copper and ash.

"If I ever put you at risk like that again...I want you to walk away from me. Find someone better. Someone safer. Someone...Not me".

Turning his head was a gamble that won him Tony, sat at his bedside, leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and his hands before his mouth like in prayer. There was a steel resolve in his eyes that Peter lacked the energy to fight, so he let the comfort of the empty pull him back.

Consciousness was a stubborn beast, though, and it returned to him far too soon for his liking. But the pain was less and the banana was now strawberry, and those things suited him just fine, a fair trade for opening his eyes.

Tony was on the foot of his bed now, like a gargoyle, in a rumpled shirt and with unwashed hair.

"You said 'again'" Peter croaked, raspy and regretful the moment the words left his throat with a burning itch. Tony moved, careful and slow, brought a straw to his mouth and only took it away when Peter pushed at it with his tongue.

"That night...Toomes...Doing what you did". Tony had no structured sentence, a maze of dead ends and choked off words. "I never wanted you to be...It was supposed to be a lesson. A push. I let him and his teachings take me down the path I promised I'd never walk".

Peter had no function for riddles today. No strength left in his mind to pull threads and chase tails.

"So be better. Be safer" he breathed steadily, and found the source of the fake banana in a half-empty shake on his bedstand. Protein, maybe. Or pro-biotic. Anti-biotic, even. He'd have to ask, sometime, when talking didn't demand the same breath as a marathon.

"I'm selfish".

"I'm aware".

"I'm not good for you. For anyone. I'll mess up again".

"Probably".

"I left you".

"You came back".

Peter stretched out an arm slowly, across the white wasteland of the medical sheets and to Tony's knuckles, fingertips brushing the taut skin. He'd suppose was dead, but even in his Heaven Tony would not be so self-hating.

"I forgave you for Halle. For using me. I'll forgive you for this, when my head doesn't hurt so much. And I don't doubt I'll end up forgiving you for a lot more. Just...Stay".

Stay.

Please.

It's all the strength he has, and Tony's soft I promise is the cradle that rocks him back to the soothing rest his body demands.

[chrideart]

WIP Wednesday

[Image Description: Two illustrations of the same green-skinned female half-orc character in 3/4 pose from the front, one in underwear and one in casual clothing. She has large ram-like horns, and fiery red long hair combed back, and a tuft of matching hair at the end of a thick tail. Her yellow eyes are looking to the left.]

✨ Hehey followers old and new, it’s Wednesday! ✨

... and gosh darn November is tough, huh. I’ve been up to my ears with procrastination projects and client work, but there hasn’t been much that I can show. But...

I’ve continued work with Meen’Alith the Half-orc Barbarian - and she’s been adopted into a D&D campaign! Above you can see her in her scandalously practical underwear and casuals. This hunk of a lady will head out into battle once I finish her gear:

[Image Description: Screenshot of Clip Studio Paint workspace with three drawings in a line art style on the canvas. The work in progress image shows the barbarian character from the front in partial armour; one shoulder pauldron, fur-lined leather greaves on her legs, and leather vambraces and gloves. On her shoulders she wears the fur of an unknown animal. In the middle of the canvas, there’s a battle axe. Double-edged and tall, with a spike on the butt of the weapon. On the right, there’s a back view of the character in her underwear, with a superimposed faint axe on her back for scale.]

As a side note, I am 100% in love with CSP for inking work.

In a more professional vein, I’m working on some vector character art for the Finnish Game Jam 2021 event. This party of adventurers are almost ready to venture out on the perilous path of game jamming!

[Image Description: Illustration of three fantasy animal characters in a vector art style on a dark green background. A title in yellow says “#FGJ21″. The first character is a smiling fox bard hoisting a microphone, dressed in a princely shirt with poofy sleeves and sharp collar. A guitar hangs on their shoulder. The middle character  is a teal squirrel in an oversized sweater. He’s throwing a die in the air, and gripping a notebook under his arm. The third character is a curly-bearded bear, with a feather in his little cap. He’s holding a paintbrush loaded with purple paint as a sword, and for a shield he’s using an over-sized wooden palette.]

During November I’ve been, it seems, focused on creatures. This here is a goblin ranger called Grux. Grux will - hopefully - get some clothing soon.

[Image Description: Three pencil sketches on a white background of a goblin creature, one full body and two portraits. In the full body image the goblin is smiling, seen at a 3/4 angle.The creature has large ears and feet, and is only wearing boxers. In the first portrait the goblin is snarling, eyebrows furrowed, teeth exposed, pupils narrowed as on a cat. In the other his experssion is more fearful, eyes blown wide and ears pointed up.]

And then there’s a design of my Gloomhaven RPG character, Rose Saline the Quatryl Tinkerer!

[Image Description: A pencil sketch at two different scales - one full body and one half-body - of a creature known as a Quatryl in the Gloomhaven universe, set on a parchment texture background. The creature is wearing two sets of goggles, and in the middle of her chest rests a cog. She is holding a potion bottle in her left hand, and on her back there’s a harpoon gun shooting nets.]

And then I tried out something fun, a jewelry box mimic, combining a simple 3D render and digital painting:

[Image Description: Two images, digital painting and 3D rendering. The first one depicts a drawn-out cylindrical jewelry box made out of hard plastic. From the lid, a tooth hangs down on a short brass chain. Second image. The same jewelry box is open, revealing a set of uneven jagged teeth. A drool-dripping human tongue extends from the box.]

Finally, I’m thinking of doing a series of explorations into combo creatures as well. This friend is an ancient frog-koala-bear cryptid:

[Image Description: A digital drawing of a friendly-looking large quadruped creature on a white background. It has the general shape of a frog, but the paws and nose of a koala bear. On its back moss and mushrooms grow, and among the moss, a tiny yellow frog can be seen.]

✨Winter Holiday Commissions opening soon!✨

I’m thinking of opening up commissions soon - if you want to snag a spot before I announce, let me know!

Take care of yourselves my lovelies and let’s hope I have something finished to show you soon :3 (besides, D4 Day is coming up soon!)

PS - I’m testing out writing image descriptions in this one. Let me know what you think, and if you want me to do this regularly.

[howrry]

ice

a/n: finally! i’m settled into skool lyfe and bella is back in business bitch (we love alliteration) here is that full fic of ice i’ve been hinting at :~)

w/c: 4.2k

warnings: this fic has an age gap of about 4 years and one of the characters is an older teenager! this is totally legal where i’m from but if it’s not where you are or it makes you uncomfortable then maybe don’t read this? also smut

***

Waiting for that one Facetime was like watching a huge pot of water boil. It was cliché, but you were running out of mundane things to do since you’d gotten home from uni. Seriously—laundry, reorganizing your soulless childhood room, even fully unpacking despite having weeks to get comfortable. Of course, as soon as you came back, you had your reunion with your parents and other family, but you hadn’t quite reached the seeing-friends phase of coming home.

At least, not until that lovely ringtone hummed through your room and you pounced on the bed, swiping on Gemma’s beautiful face. “Babe!” you cried.

“Hush,” she joked, crunching on a red apple on her side of the screen. You could hear her turn down the volume by clicking the buttons on her phone.

“Are you ready for me, then?” you asked, bouncing up and down on your tippy toes.

“No, don’t want to see you,” she crunched again, “just wanted to call to see how your mum’s doing. Of course I’m ready, twit!”

“Watch your language!” you chastised. “But I’ll be over in a New York minute.”

Getting ready was a rush—at this point you were just ready to get down the street. You shoved your feet into your Birks and grabbed your phone and keys, and once you’d padded down the stairs, your parents merely got a “be at Gem’s, later!” before you slammed the door.

When you got there, it was Harry who greeted you. You’d knocked and waited, since their house was always locked anyways. He threw the door open so fast that his cross necklace was still swinging when he rested his head on his forearm propped up on the doorframe. “Sorry, we don’t want any Girl Scout cookies,” he joked, smirking around his own jab.

“Ha ha ha,” you sarcastically bit. “Move it, Fisher-Price, I’m here for your sister.”

“I had a great semester, thank yeh for askin’,” he smiled, moving back and letting you in. “What about y’self?”

“It was productive, actually. Good to see you again, H,” you responded congenially. Ahh, the smell of your friend’s home was so nostalgic and inviting. It was fall all year round with the pumpkin in the living room, vanilla in the foyer, pine needles upstairs…

“Likewise,” he winked just before you went upstairs to your friend’s room.

Harry had always been a little charmer. Anne raised him to be very polite and he was naturally entertaining despite his introverted tendencies, but he’d always been Gemma’s annoying little brother to you. He always tried to butt into your hangouts with her, as far back as when he was four and you were eight and he wanted to play outside with you two, up to when he was 15 and you were 19 and he tried to buy beer from Gemma.

But soon, things changed. Harry got taller and his voice dropped and his skin got clear, and suddenly he wasn’t just the annoying little brother anymore. He was almost an adult, and he certainly developed a way with girls. The first time you went to see Gem and Harry had a girl over, something you couldn’t describe churned in your stomach. There’s no way Harry didn’t notice the way you cut your eyes when you initially saw her.

Ever since then, he just took a different light in your eyes. Going to Gemma’s house suddenly had double the benefits since you were seeing your best friend and her stupid hot little brother. If she left you alone for any period of time, you’d do anything to get Harry’s attention. He would chat with this amused smirk, one hand in his pocket and the other fiddling with his cross necklace, as if he knew you were subtly pining.

It was honestly kind of pathetic. He was still in high school, and you were in the home stretch of university. You had a potential hook-up pool that was at least five times the size of his and a much better selection, yet you were yearning for a guy who can’t even buy his own cigarettes.

But you didn’t care, and obviously Harry didn’t either. He humored your goofy flirting and gave it right back to you. For the most part, it was just harmless compliments and light schoolyard jabs and never escalated past that, until, well, it did.

You were going to go to brunch with Gemma that day. She’d gotten a part-time job as a photographer’s intern downtown that year, and invited you to try a new café with her. It was the perfect excuse to wear that flowy Free People dress you got, so you agreed.

While getting ready, Gemma called you in a panic. “Y/N! I forgot my wallet on my vanity at home,” she breathed. “Do you mind getting it before coming over?”

“Not a problem,” you hummed, checking your lipstick.

“Thanks, love. My mum left the front door unlocked when she got in this morning so just make yourself at home looking for it. See you soon!” Gemma blew a kiss into the phone before hanging up.

Her front door was open, just like she warned, and you hopped up the stairs to her room. Unfortunately, Gemma was more of the messy type, so finding her wallet was no easy task. Her vanity was covered in makeup and hair care bottles and papers from the previous semester. Where the hell could the wallet possibly be?

“Looking for somethin’?” Harry asked, leaning on the door frame with a Coke can in hand.

You looked up, pushing the hair that had fallen in your face to the side. “Need your sister’s wallet. It’s brunch time.”

“Ooh, bring me back a ricotta toast,” he ordered, reaching into Gemma’s Louis purse hanging by her door and pulling out her black wallet.

“You’d be lucky if I brought back a napkin,” you sneered, taking the wallet from him and going to shove past him.

He blocked your exit and held a hand up to your shoulder. “Wait, doll. Your earring is twisted backwards.” The hand that stopped you trailed up to softly ghost across your face and fix your earring, which must have gotten tangled in your wild goose chase.

Fuck, he was close. You could hear the soft breaths fanning out from his nostrils, his almost disinterested gaze slowly morphing into his classic smirk, and hand not leaving your skin in a timely fashion. His piercing green eyes rendered you stupidly frozen.

And the tension snapped. Within minutes he had you out of your dress and was fucking you into Gemma’s floral duvet. Everything was happening so fast; you didn’t even stop to think about how wrong it was. The feel of his teeth dragging across your neck and the stretch of his cock inside you were really the only things on your mind at that point.

It was rough and quick and dirty (and quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever done) but by the time you two were adjusting yourselves and catching your breath, you were twenty minutes late to lunch. You blamed it on traffic and Gemma didn’t care to push it.

So that’s how it started. It wasn’t anything exclusive, it wasn’t intimate, and it certainly wasn’t something you talked about outside of the bedroom. “The bedroom” being figurative, of course, since Harry and you liked to get it on whenever you had the chance. It wasn’t weird if you ended up bent over a washing machine or on your knees in front of him pressed up against the wall in a hallway.

When you thought about it, like reallypondered in a hot shower, you knew it was fucked up to be doing what you’re doing. It’s not like it was illegal—you just felt like you were betraying Gemma. You were closer to her than anyone else in the world and you were sneaking around with her brother.

He didn’t make it fair, though. He was so poised and smooth and fucked like he wasn’t still in AP Physics. The way he bantered with not only you but his sister and mother was definitely more witty than most boys his age. It only made sense to let him rearrange your guts.

So you had a bit of an internal dilemma. Frankly, if your little affair is well kept from Gemma, it shouldn’t be a problem at all. So you thought.

***

“So, do you have lice or something?” Gemma asked, raising an eyebrow from behind her magazine. The two of you had finally settled into winter break time and were taking turns spending at each other’s houses. Today, it was girls’ night at the Styles’ home.

You froze, one hand ruthlessly digging in your hair. “What? No. There’s just a wicked knot in my hair and I can’t get it out.” It was in the most unfortunate location on the back of your scalp, and your fingers could make no sense of the mat of hair.

“Do you need some help?” she offered, setting down her literature.

You reared back even though she was sitting at her desk across the room. “Gross, you just painted your nails! No thanks. Besides, I think I’m getting it.”

She shrugged and blew on her soft blue nails. “Whatever. I’m getting a yogurt.”

“I want one too,” you hummed, sliding off her comfortable duvet and gently pulling out a few strands of broken hair. A tiny plopaccompanied your feet on the rug and you spun in confusion. The noise was too soft to be a phone, but you still checked that yours was in your pocket. Barely visible in the fibers of the shag rug rested a solid black metallic ring. It was Harry’s.

You stared at it in horror. The ring had been in your goddamn hair. Earlier that day you’d given Harry a blowjob that left him slack-jawed and pink-cheeked and his hands had been so tangled up in your hair that your hair stole his ring. Which just fell out onto the floor in Gemma’s room.

“Is that Harry’s ring?” she hissed, gaze locking on the ring standing out from the white rug.

Oh no. Oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuck—

“He’s such a twat. Why does he leave his jewelry everywhere? You could’ve stepped on that!” she continued, reaching down to pick it up. “I’m gonna throw it in the trash.”

When she moved to her trash bin, your eyes widened and you squealed a “don’t!” That ring was really nice and you knew Harry would be devastated if she threw it out.

Gemma turned slowly. “Why?”

Your mind raced to think of a good excuse. “Because, if you throw out a ring he wears all the time, he’ll throw out something of yours that youcherish.” You gestured towards her vanity where the Tiffany box sat. She’d just bought herself a necklace for doing so well on her exams and you knew that Harry would retaliate with it.

Your best friend eyed the necklace and then the ring in her fingers. “You’re right,” she finally agreed. You let out a huge breath—there was always the risk of being too weird about Harry and blowing your own cover, but once Gemma ducked into her brother’s room and pinged Harry’s back with the ring, you knew the cover was totally intact.

***

God, you didn’t want to party. The break ended next week and soon it’d be books and schedules and debt again. Who could be shotgunning 4Lokos at a time like this?! Plus, none of the bars were open this day of the week so the only option was a freakin’ house party. What uni students over the age of 21 go to house parties?

But Gemma wanted to, and what she wants, she gets. Though you loved her tenacious attitude at times, all you cared about right now was taking off your revealing top and climbing into bed.

You nursed on straight Coke in the kitchen and absentmindedly watched Gemma go hard. You trusted her and vice versa; she knew her limits but still could have a really, really good time. The men of the party were in awe as she threw back tequila and slapped the bag right after, and even the inside of yourmouth was feeling withered just watching her.

“Hey, there,” you heard from off to the side. You casually lulled your head over to see a shockingly attractive guy. He had thick, dark hair with a sprinkling of light brown freckles on the bridge of his nose.

“Hi. You lost?” you joked, moving to make room on the upholstered bench next to you, where the mystery man joined you.

“Not anymore.” Mm. The faint scent of alcoholic breath wafted to your face but this stranger was keeping his composure quite well. “I’m Russell.”

“Y/N, pleasure,” you hummed, shaking his hand.

He started chatting you up, but to be fair, it was in one ear and out the other. He was clearly throwing words to the wind, and not even his good looks or nice cologne could draw your attention. It wasn’t like Harry, who could entice you with conversations about chopped liver if he so wanted to.

Ahh, Harry. You wondered what he was up to right now. He was probably at a party himself, drinking watery beer and flirting with any bird with eyelash extensions that gave him attention. God, why were you getting so jealous of him? You certainly didn’t owe him any loyalty and neither did he. In fact, if you so desired, you could go out and get laid right now and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it!

Your attention drifted back to the cute boy next to you. Somehow, as Russell droned on about his recent physics prof, you started to see Harry in his features. Certainly not in anything coming out of his mouth, but the curls that flopped down into his face were just like H’s after he’s played footy all day. Russell’s hands had prominent veins on them, just like Harry’s hands when they were grabbing at your skin and smacking your ass. Even the way he toyed with his bottom lip while thinking aloud.

Though H was really the last person you wanted on your mind right now, all these physical thoughts were making Russell more and more attractive by the minute. He wasn’t Harry, but maybe he could be Great Value Harry. You reciprocated his flirty chatter and got touchy with him, and things quickly devolved into kissing in the corner of the kitchen you two occupied.

Things were happening surprisingly fast for how sober you were. You went upstairs with him, you made out with him on a random bed, you undressed each other, and before you knew it he was rolling on a condom and pushing himself into you.

It wasn’t necessarily that it was bad sex. Russell had soft lips that kissed your neck as he thrusted and he certainly wasn’t small, but it didn’t really blow you out of the water. Your toes didn’t curl and your eyes didn’t roll back into your skull. He even lasted a decent amount of time, but once you made your mind up about not getting an O, you kinda just wanted it to end.

Once it did, he got busy falling asleep and you tried to not take it personally (c’mon, it’s pretty taxing for a guy to cum). You tugged your clothes back on and went out to look for Gemma, and of course she was upstairs as well, throwing up into a bathroom trashcan.

“Hey, Gem, how you feel?” you asked, rubbing at her back and tucking your hair behind your ears.

“Better now that this is out of me. Wanna go home?” she mumbled, sighing and wistfully staring at the toilet that she was seconds from making it into.

“Yep. C’mon, I’ll call an Uber,” you said to no one, hoisting a lackadaisical Gemma onto your shoulder and out of the house.

Once home, getting Gemma situated was the most difficult part. Her mother worked late and Harry was probably out, but even without the chance of running into one of her family members, she was still heavy. Her choice to not use her legs at all certainly didn’t do you any favors, either.

When the front door opened and the familiar smell of her abode hit Gemma’s nose, she perked up. It became minimally easier to hoist her up the stairs and into her bed. You did your best to scrub at the makeup that had lasted through her dancing and puking without waking her, but she was so tired and lulled to sleep by her drinks that an earthquake wouldn’t make her stir for at least eight hours. You nodded at the unopened cheap water on her nightstand, reminding yourself to get her a reusable bottle.

Your work was done. Gemma was snoring smoothly within minutes with a clean face and a drink waiting for her in the morning. You got laid, even though you were completely sober, it wasn’t exactly a great dick review, and you’re a 21-year-old who got fucked at a house party. Maybe it was just time to go home and accept the night for… whatever it was. You padded downstairs softly despite the minor coma your best friend was in. Common courtesy, you supposed.

Thump.

Face first into a chest. It was totally dark in the house and you definitely didn’t expect there to be a solid torso in Gemma’s living room for you to bump into. A sharp gasp filled your lungs and the figure reached behind and clicked the lamp on. Harry, of course.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of me,” you breathed, slapping a hand to your chest.

“It’s my house,” he grumbled. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you saw his puffy eyes and messy hair and wrinkled clothes. He’d been sleeping.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you? I thought you’d be out.” Just seeing him in such a soft state made your lower belly swirl.

He shook his head a bit. “What are y’doing here?”

“Went to a party with Gem. She got too wild so I put her to bed,” you bluntly explained.

Harry pursed his lips, crossing his arms and eyeing you focusedly. “Did you have a good time?”

“No,” you answered quickly, because you didn’t. “I didn’t drink and I had to take care of Gemma and I fucked someone.” That last part fell out of your mouth before you had a chance to think twice.

There were a few beats of a heavy silence and you wondered if you made a mistake. “Did they fuck you good, baby?” he finally asked, no emotion inflecting his words.

You couldn’t have been less prepared for that response. “No,” you whimpered, face getting hot at his critical stare.

“Oh, doll, they couldn’t fuck yeh like I can, huh?” His voice was pure sex—every response he had to you threw you off more than the last. Everything he said just floated off his tongue and danced into the room and onto whosever’s ears they were around.

“No, they couldn’t,” you choked out. You felt like your throat was closing. “No one fucks me like you do and I can’t understand it. I shouldn’t be seeing you because it’s so wrong but...” God, shut up shut up shut up. Your word vomit amused Harry beyond belief. The smug look on his face was making you feel even smaller than his height already did.

“Oh, I know what you’re sayin’, doll,” he laughed. “You wanna do the right thing by m’sister but yeh just can’t. Deep down y’know you’ll always come back to me, hmm?” Harry took a step towards you, and you completely froze. You thought that he was about to bend down and kiss you but he surprised you yet again by snapping a hand up and gripping it around your neck. “I own you, y’hear me?”

You nodded, or at least the best you could with his vice grip on you. Every breath you tried to take stopped short in the back of your throat, and it almost felt like your feet were about to lift off the ground. Your own hands flew up to claw at Harry’s hand before his grip finally softened. A thick gasp sucked in and your legs threatened to not support your body, but he grabbed at you and steadied you. His fingers grazed your quivering lips. “Who’s mouth is this?” he asked, intently staring.

“Yours,” it came out as a whisper. Normally he’d be much meaner and wouldn’t accept such a quiet response, but he was feeling generous, apparently. He leaned down and kissed you, sucking in on your bottom lip and biting the red flesh.

The two of you made your way down to the couch, such that you were straddling Harry and he was cupping at your ass. Your hair kept falling in your faces, but he didn’t care and continued to kiss you and grab at your throat.

He took a break and leaned back on the couch, taking his time to lazily cup at the soft skin behind your thighs. “Mmm, and who’s ass is this?” When you breathed out another “yours” he smacked it audibly. “Goddamn right, pet.”

He didn’t take your shirt off, nor any of his clothes. He lifted you just enough for you to tug your shorts and panties down, and for him to pull his leaking cock out of his dark sweats. You tried to tease for a moment, grinding your bare center against him, but he put a stop to that. “Do I even have t’ask if this is mine?” he growled, assertively cupping your cunt with his big hand. You shook your head and he smirked, guiding his tip up and down your slit.

“Nope, because I know it’s mine,” he whispered, letting you slip his whole length inside your wet pussy. He shoved his hands up the back of your shirt, dragging his nails down the soft skin. Once you’d bottomed out and you were desperately grinding your clit against his pubic bone, he put a hand flat on your chest. “Lean back and ride me, pet.”

You obeyed to the best of your ability. You put your hands behind you on his knees and shifted your weight back, allowing him to fully watch himself disappear into you. The coarse, dark curls at the base of his member lightly stimulated your clit on the downstrokes, making you helplessly whimper while you fucked yourself on him.

“Are yeh sure you fucked someone?” he grunted. “So fuckin’ tight, I just don’t believe it.” His fingers snaked down and played around with your clit, which undoubtedly threw off your bouncing. Your hips begged to stay down and enjoy the circles he was tracing over your button, but he wouldn’t let you. His free hand went to your hip, just above where it bent into your thigh, and guided you to start moving again. “Uh-uh. Keep ridin’ me, love. I know yeh can keep a rhythm, hmm?”

So you kept riding. The pressure of his tip ghosting around your G-spot combined with him stimulating your clit was making it difficult to stay quiet. Sure, Gem was asleep, but she wasn’t dead, and if you made a ridiculous amount of noise, she’d definitely investigate.

“Gonna cum, aren’t yeh?” he asked, and fuck, he was right. That knot was already starting to form in your lower belly.. “I can tell. Yeh gonna let go, all over m’cock? Gonna make a mess fo’ me?”

His words caused you to spill over, and you were no longer able to hold yourself up leaning back. He was very forgiving of this, and let you grab at his shoulders while riding out your high. Once you’d stopped shaking and panting into his neck, he thrusted his hips up into you once, twice, three times and came inside of you with a grunt and some more nail-digging, this time into your thighs.

And then it was silent. You meekly got off of him and shakily pulled your shorts back up. You two quietly redressed, Harry nearly dead from his draining orgasm and you weak in the legs from your sexual workout. The only noise was the scratch of fabric on fabric and your shared heavy breathing. Finally, when you were gathering your things to leave, Harry spoke in his sultry, hoarse voice.

“I like when you come around,” he smiled, and you immediately returned it. It didn’t seem like much, but this was Harry’s way of expressing affection. Regardless of how good he was in bed or how witty and charming he came off, he was still a goofy teenage boy who had trouble talking about his emotions.

A little giggle came out of your nostrils. “Thanks, Haz.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, hmm?” he asked, pinning that unconfident noise at the end despite knowing you’d be back. He was already relaxing, crossing his arms behind his head and lazily eyeing you scramble towards the front door.

“Yeah,” you dreamily affirmed, giving a quick wave to Harry (which he goofily returned) and floating out the front door. “Tomorrow,” you said to the empty street in front of you, toying with your car keys in your hands.

[proudofmy]

four

four

The forest was full of sighs and noises that were amplified at night,

. hey, cupcake are you nervous?

Carm said to Laura who was shaking her hand convulsively

. I ... I, emmm NO?

. unconvinced as NO.

. yes I am

. We all are.

. how are you doing with your new teeth?

He asks Mel to talk about something else.

. well, I'm getting used to the fact that my daughter transformed me, halfway

. she still asks me how it was possible. a boh don't look at me, the genius is you LaF.

. I will continue the analysis

Laura shivered, NO MORE NEEDLES, she couldn't take it anymore.

She looked Carm in the eye, the dark was no longer a problem, and she had put aside the vegetables, now she preferred a good steak, and not even the blood they kept in the fridge bothered her anymore, but she would have preferred that there was a fridge just for the stocks.

. silence

Carm whisper

. Laura go.

She took a deep breath and began to chant while Mel, LaF, and Carmilla threw a red powder towards the border that stopped in mid-air as if it were stuck to an invisible wall that slowly opened into a tingling passage.

. we do not have much time. here we go!

They went through the hole that was being rebuilt behind them.

And they went on into the night.

. is it today that he must?

. in theory today, or rather tomorrow at dawn she rises again then gathers her followers, and then ...

. death and destruction!

. fairly accurate, YES

. I deal with divinity?

. no, first we must render the rites harmless.

. and how?

They positioned themselves in a small hole from where they could see the road towards a pile of stones and an arch with hanging ivy, there people were busy, LaF said they had to undermine the rites even the slightest mistake was enough to make the ritual useless, like blowing out candles or burning the steps they had placed on the ground, the problem was to get there.

Because of what they had seen, the fanatics were fast and armed.

They took action and decided that Mel and Carm would lead the way. Laura and LaF would try to undermine the ritual.

. hey!

. who are you?

. we got lost!

The two tried to make the most innocent look possible!

. two of your friends brought us here but we were tired of waiting!

. you are in the women's restricted area.

. or come on!

. Go away!

The ill that had happened with his colleagues was approaching, and Carm continued to make Mel speak, acting innocent.

. come on don't get angry …

. you will be killed for your impudence women ...

The ax he wore on his waist came down towards Mel but something blocked the weapon's travel

. NO! NINTH! bad ... we asked you to help us and you want to kill us.

. leave me witch.

. no NOT witch, VAMPIRE

Mel and Carm pounced on the guards and sent them to their god to ask for forgiveness, they could only have made them pass out but hey, they were the ones who started it.

Everything had been done with the minimum of noise thanks to the comforting that LaF had thrown to the ground before the fighting began.

It looked like one of those western spaghetti-style movies, where punches and slaps started… if it wasn't a mortal danger it would have been even fun, Carm and Mel were a nice duo as far as the desire to lead is concerned.

They gave a 5 as soon as they finished and got married on the sides of the opening, where a slight light filtered through the leaves of a dangling ivy, suggestive as an image, it was enough to hide 8 pairs of eyes that wandered beyond.

What they saw was an immense clearing of beaten earth with continuous passages, large wooden crates with an inscription in Italian and quite worrying symbols and guards armed with large knives to guard the boxes, the light came from 5 huge braziers that burned around some stones, they seemed to be placed in a particular position, but from where they were they could not understand their shape well, and they did not dare to send a mini drone to survey from above in the silence that there would have been noticed immediately.

Hooded figures wrapped in long cloaks were talking in a corner to the right of the portal where the girls were, and one of them pulled down her hood and wiped sweat, a tall man with angular ligaments with a large scar on his cheek.

One of those with him scolded him heavily by calling IDIOT, this immediately assumed an attitude of constraint he put his hood on and put on his face an expressionless mask with only 4 holes 2 for the eyes, one for the nose, and one for the mouth.

The girls looked back and retraced their steps.

. when is dawn?

. there are 2 hours left

. I would say it is better to act.

 . Yes, in my opinion too!

. you two scare me.

Mel smiled.

. we hope that even the friends we are about to lead are afraid.

And he punched Carm who had a sparkle in his eyes, which did not bode well.

. wait

. what is it now?

. Carm can you feel it?

Laura took a deep breath through her nose and a sweetish mixed with metallic smell tickled her throat.

. now that… yes… BLOOD

. blood?

The others tried to sniff but couldn't smell it, only Carm and Laura smelled the sweet and metallic smell of blood.

. follow me

Carm got up and began to cross the bush until he stopped in front of some rocks where a hole allowed with a little luck the vision of what was happening beyond.

And it was not a pretty sight, the other individuals with cloaks and masks were pushing at least 30 people with spears towards a cage where the bodies of other people were piled up in piles.

A voice was heard shouting near them.

. quick that we don't have all the time the ritual must be done

. will it be today?

Asked a voice?

. Yes!

Then everything fell into silence until the first screams of the people entering the cage, as soon as they set foot inside they were taken by an invisible force and pierced and torn until life left the body and it was another sacrifice.

. our lord is taking strength soon will bring out!

Said a red-cloaked figure who had just arrived.

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 35

“Come on, Viktoria, darling,” Ansgar sang through grit teeth. He adored the child, but his patience had worn thin. The dear girl had thrown a full-on toddler-style tantrum in the middle of the park – face down, dress rumpled and ruched up over her leggings-clad bum, fists pounding, legs kicking, hair flying, in the wood shavings beneath the play set.

She’d wanted, apparently, to use the circle-shaped round and round swinging thing, for which Ansgar had no idea what the name was, but she’d wanted it anyway; and there had been a line of other children waiting for it.

But she’d wanted it right then and there, sod the line. Sod the other kids. Sod the horrified parents watching her and ‘tsk’ing at her - at him.

Sod her uncle who was hovering over her, bent double, begging and pleading in a quasi-soothing, increasingly-furious tone with her to “Get up… get up Beanie. Viktoria Bean Martinsson, you stop this nonsense and you get up right now. Right this minute. Come on, darling, sweet summer child, up you get.”

Sod her mum, sod her papa, sod the twins, sod the ice cream man, sod everyone. She wanted the… circle thing… and she would have it.

Or not.

“All right then, alskling,” Ansgar had hissed, wrapping an arm around her waist and heaving her, kicking and screeching, to his hip. “We’re leaving!”

And so, they’d left. Beanie having gone limp, snot-soaked and sobbing beneath Ansgar’s arm, the twins - placid and unknowing in their double pram, pushed along with Ansgar’s free hand. And Ansgar, fizzing with fury and red with embarrassment, had wondered just how the fuck Magnus managed to deal with such things every single damn day.

“I get to be the fun one, she says… cool auntie, she says…” he muttered to himself, only to be interrupted by a high-pitched male voice. The voice of some man who’d jogged jauntily up to Ansgar at the car as he was loading the children in.

“Hey! All right there, Mags?”

“Huh, me?” Thunk. Ouch! Ah! Fffff…. fiddle feathers!” he’d cursed, rubbing angrily at his head. The sharp impact against the car’s door jamb rang through his skull, blurring his vision and cramping his jaw. The word ‘fuck’ rest precariously on the tip of his tongue, teeth buried deep into his bottom lip, but he’d promised. No profanity around the Bean… although, he knew from the content of her screaming tirade moments before that she knew exactly what words were naughty and exactly what words to use when one is furious beyond control.

“Yeah, man,” the overly fit arsehole had said, patting Ansgar jovially on the back. “Lookin’ like you’ve got a handful there. The kid giving you a hard time? Need help?”

Ansgar had stiffened, railing at the stranger’s unwelcomed and impertinent touch of his person. He felt a sneer lift the edge of his lip, but with a breath, he brought his face back under control. “No, thank you,” he said tersely, calmly, and leaned back into the car.

“When’d you grow a beard, Mags? I swear I just saw you out in your yard yesterday, and your face was bare as a baby’s bottom. Is that fake or something?”

Click. Ansgar had fastened the buckle over Axel’s little belly and, as Rebecka had showed him, fixed the blanket around his legs, having done the same to Ingrid. He offered the child the pacifier, and when the baby took it, closed his eyes, and relaxed into the seat, Ansgar, too, took a breath.

He’d crawled back out of the car, stood straight, and peered irritably at the man, arms akimbo. “It’s not fake,” he said.

“You sure about that?” The man had reached out a hand to touch Ansgar’s face, to see for himself.

Ansgar bent back, turning his face, and he slapped the man’s hand away. “Bugger off! It’s mine. It’s real, and I’m not Magnus, okay?”

The man had made an incredulous face, turning his head to fix Ansgar with a gimlet eye. “Come off it,” he said, popping Ansgar one on the shoulder - there he was with the touching again - “You’re Magnus Martinsson. My neighbor. What’s the deal, man?”

Ansgar had sighed and glared at the man, his face a mask of annoyance, of burgeoning anger just bubbling beneath the surface and waiting to explode. “The deal, man,” Ansgar mocked. “Is that I am his brother. Ansgar. Not Magnus. And I am… babysitting…,” the word had tripped from his lips on a wave of icy venom, “my brother’s children.”

His eyes flashed. “Not to mention, one of said children just staged her very own Shakespeare in the Park tragedy right over there,” he pointed. “So. I am taking her home, where I shall fill her face full of ice cream or muesli or applesauce or whatever will work to settle her down, then we shall have a bit of a cuddle, and I shall put her to bed. Now,” he quirked a sardonic smile. “If you will kindly step away from my brother’s daddy-mobile grocery-getter, I can get in, start the damn car, and get the flippin’ hell out of here before I die of absolute mortification.”

“Flippin hell!” a small voice chimed from within the car. “Flippin’ hell!”

Ansgar had growled, eyeing the man with increasing disdain. “Excuse me. Please.” he said dangerously, and he turned, folded himself into the car, and started the engine.

Only to hear “flippin’ hell… flippin’ hell… flippin’ hell…” sung in a bouncy, off-key child soprano all the way back to his brother’s house.

And now, they were back in the house, and Ansgar’s beloved niece, Viktoria Bean Martinsson, was barely able to keep her eyes open, barely able to walk into the house at the heels of her uncle, exhausted as she was. “Uncle Sgar, pick me up. Want you ta hold me pweeze an’ I’ll sleep wif you.”

And Ansgar looked down at the little girl, the little girl whose blonde curls and blue eyes looked so much like his own. And now those little blonde curls were mussed and tangled with bits of brown bark, and those blue eyes were large, trusting, and imploring, yet glazed, rheumy, and tired.

And she was the most heart-melting thing he’d ever seen.

He pushed the stroller into the living room, the twins having fallen asleep, and he picked the girl up, smiling as she rendered herself into his arms, against his chest, over his shoulder.

***

Ansgar sat on the sofa, legs spread wide beneath him, Beanie sprawled splay-legged, face-down over his chest. Her sleepy, sweet breath wuffled softly over his neck and cheek. The twins he had fed, changed their nappies (oh, Christ, the smell!) and settled them into their own cots for the night.

Now with just Beanie with him, he lifted his phone high above him, peering up at it as he was finally able to read Joline’s text. A text that was time-stamped about four hours prior. He frowned, confused, even though the text was obviously sent to prevent confusion.

Sorry - was out and about with the children. A bit insane. Envied your “cool auntie” status with your nephews. What do you mean faithful, darling? I have no doubt you’re faithful to me. Why do you feel the need to reassure me of that?

He let his hand drop to his side, his eyes growing heavy. The weight and warmth of the child, the after-bath lavender and chamomile scent of her, the softness of her cotton pyjamas, the tickle of her still-damp curls – all lulled him to a slumber of his own.

His mind wandered to thoughts of her, thoughts of Joline, images and flashes of their time together - the beautiful fury on her face, the passion replaced thereby moments later, her smile, her eyes, her body beneath his, her mind, her spirit. And he felt the need to express it to her.

Once and for all.

I trust you implicitly, Joline. I know it’s only been a short time, but I find myself awash with feelings for you. They’re rather pleasurable, and new, and different, and frankly, I feel like a new man with you. I want to name them but I’m afraid to, but if I did I would call them something like… love.

He shook his head, cringing after he’d hit send on the last message. “Idiot. Arsehole,” he groused, tapping the edge of the phone to his forehead. “Telling her that way, what’s wrong with you?” He lifted the phone again, pressed the button for FaceTime, and dialed her number. The chirpy ring of his iPhone sounded and sounded and sounded, and eventually timed out with a discouraging beep, her having not answered.

“Damn,” he swore, and then he tried simply calling her. Again, the phone played the ring music for him through the speakerphone, and again she did not answer. He flipped back to the home screen, seeing the time - 10:45 pm.

He furrowed his brow, sat up, and gently moved the child aside to rest, mumbling to herself, on the sofa. His gut clenched, a combination of fear and worry and self-loathing. Telling her you love her, his mind berated him. You dipshit. Now look what you’ve done. She’s stopped speaking to you. You’ve frightened her. With an irritated growl, he scooted forward to the edge of the seat, hunched over the phone, and texted.

Darling? Are you there?

Nothing. Not even the little bubble with the three dots. Not even an indication that his messages had been read or  delivered. He blew out his breath and stood, pacing the small living room, his mind whirring and whirling. But then, he stopped. He closed his eyes. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled slowly on puffed cheeks.

Trust her, his other, more rational voice said. She’s occupied. Not near her phone. Busy. Sleeping, Taking a bath, taking a shit, taking care of her mum, watching a film… She’s not ignoring you. The world does not revolve around you, Ansgar Martinsson. She’s fine. She … she loves you too. She hasn’t said it but you know it. In your bones, deep down in your bones, you know it.

Ansgar brought his phone to bear, and set his thumbs on the keyboard again. It’s late on a Sunday, he texted, I suppose you’re busy at home. I’m knackered, and I need to hit the sack. Long day. Will tell you about it tomorrow. Early flight and then I will meet you at the Opera House at ten sharp. Don’t be late.

And then, with a smile on his face, a shrug, and attitude of ‘why not?’ He sent one more text.

I love you, Joline Lindberg. Think on that, my darling, and sleep well.

Ansgar’s words played over and over on a loop in her mind, and her focus had been split by his fingers inside her at the time. Pleasure pounded in her ears then, her body strung out and tensed for the fall into blissful oblivion, her hands full of leather seat, her toes curled in her heels. But she’d heard them all the same, that hidden possessive threat.

‘While I’m away in Ystad, no orgasms. Your orgasms belong to me.’

Ansgar had said it in the heat of the moment, just before he left her side for more than twenty-four hours and two nights in her own bed. She’d realized that he’d promised fidelity to her but she hadn’t promised herself to him at the same time. She should have done it then, only so he didn’t have to ask – demand – that she remained his.

Joline couldn’t name the moment, pinpoint the minute she knew or at what point she had become so, but she knew. The second, that split in time didn’t matter, only that she recognized that she belonged to him, with him, for him. Reassuring him felt an important step for her, as much as it was for him.

It was the most important realization in her world until the infection hit.

There were good days and bad days since her mother’s diagnosis; that Sunday had been the worst yet. Emelie, in her weakened state, fell victim to infections often, sometimes without warning or any symptoms.

Emelie’s restless energy should have tipped Joline off that something was wrong. Too rare though that Emelie would let Joline fuss over her beyond administering her daily medications and nightly treatments. Schedules, pill bottles, catheters, needles and other medical equipment littered every room in the house. Emelie despised the reminders of her fate, and did everything to minimize it for her daughter and son. She lied, hid, and withheld the truth to keep them in the dark about how her disease progressed.

It was true, Joline’s cooking could only be described as mediocre at best. The taste of the omelets didn’t put her in the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl though. Not this time. Emelie disguised her sickness by running the shower to cover the sound. She wouldn’t let Joline touch her for fear that the fever would clue her daughter into what was happening. She knew, only too well…

“Mama,” Joline called from the lounge in late afternoon, “shall I put on a dvd?”

From the confine of the bathroom, Emelie cleared her throat and padded her flushed face with a cool wet flannel. “No… no, baby girl, you’re—“ She gulped, choking back another wave of nausea. She took a deep breath chasing the rise in her esophagus back down. “You-you’re working.”

Joline clapped her binder closed, swinging her bare legs off the armrest of the oversized reading chair. She sat sideways on the chair every time, it supported her back and didn’t make her sit funny like her computer chair did. She knotted herself into a human pretzel in that contraption.

“My day off, I’m… I’ve a meeting tomorrow. Reviewed all I could for that,” she lied to her mother. With Ansgar involved as her partner and the man she was seeing, she kept mum on what she’d really been going over, the lighting permits. Until she knew where she stood with Ansgar and the rumors died down to the next scandal, she could avoid mentioning him to her mother.

“I’m… okay, baby girl.”

“Good to know, but I didn’t ask,” Joline quipped unfolding and standing from her chair. She shoved her binder and house issued netbook into her leather bag from Monday. She checked her phone in case she’d missed an incoming message from Ansgar, in case it hadn’t sounded. No luck, but she knew he was busy with the newborn twins and the toddler.

Emelie called out, “Don’t wait for… me.”

“How about fika and kanelbulle?” Joline offered rummaging through the kitchen cupboard for a snack. She found the last of the pastries, and the thought of coffee made her mouth water. She flipped the switch on her coffee maker and fetached two mugs from the cupboard.

Emelie finally emerged from the bathroom while Joline brewed her K cups, staggering through her fever, feeling dizzy. She took a tremulous breath and spoke unevenly, “Jo-line.”

Her daughter whirled around just in time to see her fall to the floor.

In one singular instant, Joline was thrust into her worst fucking nightmare. From the moment her mother collapsed to the floor like a rag doll, fear stuck to her. Her new shadow. “MAMA!” Her scream echoed against the empty spaces in the room, the high pitch bouncing back.

She lunged to the floor, dropping to her hands and knees beside the prone figure of her mother, her best friend, her favorite person on the face of the planet. Handfuls of her mother’s clothes filled her palms as she unraveled the older woman. Joline pressed her cool hands to her mother’s inflamed face. The shock of the burn made her gasp and draw away, terror gripping the base of her spine. Gently she tried rousing her mother with gentle slaps against her cheeks.

“Mama? Mama? Please, please…” she heard the panic rise in her voice, “oh, God… not now. Mama?” She checked her mother’s pulse point. Weak but present. Checked her breathing. Shallow but steady. If she had her wits, she would’ve grabbed the blood pressure machine that she used morning and night to check her mother’s levels.

A lump of dread and alarm formed in the back of her throat, but she used it as fuel. Fuel to push her to her feet. To propel her towards her mobile. To pound her fingers to dial 112 for emergency responders. To fall to her mother’s side once more.

“What is the nature of your emergency please?” A flat voice asked immediately.

“Please, please, send an ambulance…” Joline’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “It’s, it’s, it’s my mother. She’s ill… she’s sick. Please send help.” Brokenly she rattled off the address of her childhood home in Gamla Stan, not for the first time, but she always feared it would be the last. She wasn’t blind to her mother’s condition.

“How old is the victim?”

“She’s sixty-three… she suffers… from kidney failure, a complication of Lupus.” As calmly as she could, she named all the medications, dosages, and the time of her last hookup to the peritoneal dialysis. Joline memorized all the pertinent information for emergencies of this nature. It was precisely the reason she’d returned to Sweden.

The dispatcher talked her through to when the first responders arrived, Joline barely functional in her worry. She threw her mobile aside when the bell sounded and she let the two men in to tend to her mother. Within minutes, they were on route to urgent care. The next hour flew by in a flurry of rushed, barked orders, checking and rechecking her mother and dashing her into the intensive care unit.

Infection… that was the only part Joline understood in her shock. She was near comatose, completely beside herself when the nurse pressed a phone into her hand and ordered her to call someone. She rung Elias since she knew the number, and the dam burst when she heard his voice on the other end of the line.

“Elias,” she cried. “You better come. It’s… mum. She’s sick.”

[muffins-puffins]

Hello madam! I'm curious about your fav artwork and your least fav artwork of yours, Oh and you can just ignore this if you want to! Thanks 💛

Hi! (Is calling madam a thing now hahahaha I feel old) Thank you for asking! I never expected that someone will be interested in my arts /cries at the corner/ I’ll go from the least to most fav! Let’s see what we got here.

Least fav artwork

Most of the time the dissatisfaction grew right after i drew and posted them, like 80% of them. I just don’t like to see them? It’s usually because the outcome isn’t what I expected to be. (I don’t feel to redraw this)

3. Shion x Thomas. It feels so bland to me and I kept on being frustrated over Thomas’ pose I did for hours.

2. Rengoku. It’s from the tweet suggesting him with Fieri’s clothes. I guess I did this purely because I wanted to join the trend? (I admit there’s #1 but it’s too horrible so I don’t post it, I don’t post it anywhere too)

Most fav artworks

3. Art trade for my mutual on Instagram. I actually had an abrupt change in drawing software because my laptop had a sudden shutdown, causing all my brushes to be gone. I’m still awkward with the current brush but this I’m satisfied with its outcome.

2. Himekawa! It’s very simple, I tried exploring some styles that are time-saving (but in fact it’s not!!!) I like this because the teeth smile works out hahahaha

1. Kanroji’s New Year! I’d say I enjoyed the process and I like the shading (not really sure if I could do this once again, it took me three days to render this, not all time tho) I’d lie if I never had the thought of ‘is this my work, for real?’ once after posting this.

That sums up the summary! I think I should’ve stay with certain styles so that it’s easier for me to make a commission portfolio soon. Thank you very much for your interest!!