#• in for a nasty weather — social !

[meow-xine]

imagine hanging with izuku and he gets self conscious oml

cw: nothing major!! mentions of scars (huge part of the plot), fluff

it was just the two of you; laying in bed doing nothing more than mindlessly scrolling on social media, interrupting the scrolling with an occasional conversation or a “look at this!!”. it was peaceful, nothing going on.

even if the two of you wanted to get out and do things, the hot weather was just too limiting on options, so instead you opted for hanging out inside, doing quite literally nothing.

out of habit from the countless times you and izuku had just chilled in bed, your hand reached down to him, splayed out lazily on your lap, and started to draw small shapes. as he sighed in approval, the small shapes turned more into you just gently rubbing and scratching his arms, moving to his back. you struggled though, trying to find a way to squeeze your hands through the arm holes of his shirt, too lazy to try and slither your way up his back.

“Izuuu, sorry but this would be so much easier if you took your shirt off. Can you?” you asked for the first time, you had feared overstepping and wanted to prevent izuku from being uncomfortable. you thought now was an appropriate time though, seeing as it had been a while that the two of you had been dating and he always seemed to really like when you would offer comforting touches.

he sat up before speaking, “What? Um.. yeah I guess I can.” he answered hesitantly which instantly made you rethink asking. “I’m sorry!! If you don’t want to that’s fine! I just thought it might be a little easier is all.” you apologized in which he interrupted your apology, waving his hands. “No it’s not that I don’t want to! It’s just.. well I have some pretty nasty scars and I just don’t want to freak you out with them..” he started, removing his glance from your eyes downward, playing with his hands. “I’m proud of everything I have accomplished as a hero, but the scars are a not so gentle reminder of my failures.” he continued, “but I am more than happy to take my shirt off, sorry I kind of rambled..”

he took his shirt off, revealing much more than just his scars. underneath was his rough skin yes, but he also had the most beautiful array of freckles painted on his shoulders and scattered all around his chest, stomach, and back. he returned to his prior position, laying across your lap. with no words you resumed scratching his back, this time tracing all the beautiful marks and scars.

he was much more tense than before, getting used to someone seeing him so close and intimately. while he tried to steady his breath you continued admiring the parts of him you had never seen so close before. “Izuku?” you started. “Hm, yeah?”

you reached your head down to place small kisses between his shoulder blades.

“For what it’s worth, I think you are beautiful. Scars and all.”

short drabble, but i think it’s cute :))

[sansaorgana]

hello!! i’ve been reading you’re gale fics and i stumbled across the one where they meet once he goes back to school! i loved it so much and was wondering if you could do a part 2 kind of on their relationship once they officially become a couple?

hi, darling! thank you for your request! 🎀 I really like this story because it's different than usual Gale fics 😊 in this part they are apart for the summer holidays and they miss each other meanwhile her mum wants her to meet her son's friend who is closer to Reader's age and all that and then Gale shows up to visit because he's been missing his girl 😌

[ PART ONE ]

my requests are currently closed 🙅🏻‍♀️

Your relationship with Gale was going steady and everyone seemed to be interested in it, which was giving you both more attention than usual. You weren’t a very social couple and yet everyone wanted to talk to you all of a sudden as they hoped you would answer some questions that they had about him. Who he was, where had he come from, why did he have those scars on his face… You were only smiling gently at those people and trying to avoid answering such questions.

Your roommate Kathy and her boyfriend Jack were the only two people you talked to about such things – although you were still quite angry at Jack for looking into Gale’s personal documents to find out about his past. But since he had already known it anyway, there was no point of lying in front of him or avoiding the subject anyway.

With time people eventually gave up and let you go, disappointed about not getting many answers to their nosy questions. Thankfully, everything went back to the old ways and you were quite invisible again and so was Gale because everyone just had gotten used to him being around and remaining a little mystery. Also, someone had spread a rumour already about him being a pilot from the war. You had a nasty feeling it was Jack but you didn’t want to ask him because you didn’t want to fight with him and Kathy. Gale had assured you it was fine – after all, the new rumour was believable enough for the other, less pleasant rumours to stop. And most people were satisfied with this information about him without asking any further questions.

The semester was slowly coming to an end and you were sitting under a tree in the park, enjoying the warm weather with your head on Gale’s shoulder. Both of you were reading books for your upcoming exams and you were chewing on a pen but your thoughts were getting distracted.

“How will you spend your summer holidays?” You asked him, all of the sudden.

Gale looked down at you with a furrowed brow as he chuckled.

“I’m gonna visit my family for some time but then I’m gonna come back here, I think,” he answered. “And you? Going back to your family, I assume?” He asked and you nodded, anxiously.

“I’m gonna be out for the whole summer,” you explained. “But now… Now I’m thinking I should perhaps only go there for a month and spend the second one here with you?”

“I don’t want to keep you away from your family, love,” Gale smiled gently and caressed your cheek with his fingertip.

“And what are you gonna do here without me around?” You crossed your arms after closing your book loudly.

“Same as always,” Gale shrugged his arms. “Same as I was doing before we started seeing each other,” he explained.

“But you’re going to miss me, right?” You bit on your lower lip.

“Of course,” Gale shook his head and kissed the top of your head. “I’m going to call you and send you letters,” he assured you as he squeezed your arm. “You’re going to miss me, too, right?”

“Right,” you nodded with a shy smile but you looked away.

You couldn’t help an awful feeling that you would miss him more than he would miss you. Gale was a mystery to everyone but to you as well sometimes – he was a stoic and demure man, which was understandable because of his past and his age but… Sometimes you wished he would be more open with his feelings.

Gale took you to the train station on the day of your departure back home and he was standing on the platform and waving his hand after you as you were staring through the window and waving back. It was like in that song Love In Vain and for some reason you couldn’t help but feel sad and nostalgic about this farewell even though you would be back in two months.

But would everything be the same between you two then? It was hard to believe.

It didn’t help that at home everyone seemed to question your relationship. You expected everyone to be excited about you finally finding a partner and about him being a mature man who was a war hero but apparently everyone had some problem with that.

“What does he look like?” Your sister wanted to know. You sighed at her shallowness but you tried not to get angry because she was only a teenager. You took out the picture that Kathy had taken of you and Gale inside the library. “Why does he look like this?” Your sister asked.

“What are you talking about? He’s handsome!” You protested and she took the picture from your hands to take a closer look.

“The scars on his cheeks…”

“Well, he was in the war,” you reminded her with an eye roll, getting annoyed already at her comment.

“I don’t know… He looks stiff and sad,” she handed you the picture back.

“War does terrible things to men. Are you sure he’s, you know, right in the head?” Your father squinted his eyes at you as he lowered his newspaper. He only took a brief look at the picture and cleared his throat.

“Gale is perfectly fine in the head,” you clenched your jaw and looked at your mother, hoping she would back you up on that but she sighed instead.

“Why couldn’t you find yourself a boy your age, darling? And what is he even doing right now? Are you sure he is not flirting with other girls? Women his age, I mean?” She put her hands on her hips.

“Gale is not like that…” You started but you knew how pathetic that sounded like. Every woman who had been cheated on had probably used the same words. Your mother shook her head and muttered something to herself before walking out of the room to check on the pie in the oven.

You were growing insecure because of their words and comments. You sent Gale a letter in which you assured him of your love and you also added how much you missed him. You hoped to remind him about your devotion.

Not long after, your mother came up with a great plan of setting up a date for you with her friend’s son. You had been refusing that many times because how could you worry about Gale cheating on you while going out on a date yourself? Your mother’s friend and her son were invited to dinner at your place once and you even said it to his face that you had a boyfriend but he didn’t seem to be discouraged.

He was quite handsome, that boy. His name was Bobby and he was only slightly older. He had just finished his education and he was going to settle down in your hometown and start his own business. He had a bright future ahead of him due to his confidence and his father’s money.

Everyone kept insisting on you going out with him to the point you just had to agree but you kept repeating over and over that it was definitely not a date – just a meeting with a friend.

Bobby took you to the restaurant and ordered meals for you both without even letting you take a look at the menu.

“I just know what you’re going to love. Everyone loves it. My father knows the owner and it’s their best meal,” he assured you sweetly but you did not like his behaviour anyway. You decided not to comment on that, though.

“Thank you,” you only answered as your mother would expect you to.

“So, when are you graduating?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I still have two years to get a Bachelor degree,” you explained. “And so does Gale.”

“Why are you so pressed about getting that degree, hm? You have that… Gale already,” he winced a little at the mention of the name. “Most girls only go to college to meet their husband.”

“Gale is not my husband yet,” you straightened yourself but you felt your heart pounding at the mention of such possibility. It filled your whole body with butterflies. “And even if he was, I would still want that degree and I know that Gale would support me in that. He knows how important it is for me. I haven’t worked so hard to get to college just to resign because of a man,” you explained and Bobby rolled his eyes.

“And what is he even doing there?” Bobby asked. “How old is he?”

“He’s going to be thirty in two years,” you answered and Bobby whistled.

“And he’s wasting time on getting degrees instead of starting something for himself?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“He is not wasting time, he is getting a degree! And I know already he will want more than just a Bachelor. All the professors praise him, too,” you answered. “I’m sure he’s gonna get a Masters or even a PhD.”

“Degrees are not for everyone. I mean, not everyone has to have one. We need simple workers, too. And if I was his age, I would try to catch up on the time I lost and go to work. He should accept the fact that his chance to get properly educated is already–” Bobby started and you widened your eyes at his rudeness.

“He was in the war, for God’s sake, Bobby! He was fighting in Europe so you could be safe here and study yourself… How can you not be grateful for that?” You shook your head.

“Was he? Your mother told my mother that your Gale had spent over a year in the camp for the prisoners of war,” Bobby scoffed. “That’s hardly fighting.”

“You have no idea what he’s been through,” you snapped back and then the waiter brought the food to your table so you smiled at him and took your plate.

Just like you had been expecting, the food was awful. You only ate a little bit and watched Bobby devour his whole plate.

“You know, our mothers would like us to get married. For you to drop out of college and become my wife,” he told you between one bite and another. You felt your guts turning inside out at that.

“Thankfully, we don’t agree with that, do we?” You looked him up and down and Bobby shrugged his arms.

“Thought you would do, but your brain’s already filled with… ideas. That’s why I’m against women going to colleges,” he explained.

“What ideas?” You wondered out loud. “I don't mind becoming a wife and a mother one day. I just want a degree first,” you explained.

“Yeah… All that talk. Sorry, I don’t buy it,” he chuckled.

The rest of the meal went pretty quiet. Bobby paid for it and he walked you home as the sun was slowly setting down. He insisted on walking you up to the front door of your house, so you knocked upon them and waited there awkwardly in silence.

When your mother opened the door, she looked pretty uncomfortable and… scared? You wondered what had happened. You expected her to be overjoyed and ask a million questions about your “date”.

Then, your heart skipped a beat when you spotted a familiar person standing behind her… It was Gale.

“Your boyfriend paid you a visit,” she whispered at you and you met his gaze.

Gale approached you and you nearly gasped to have him so close again. You nearly forgot how handsome he was in real life. His baby blue eyes were even sadder than usual, though, and you knew why. He turned to extend his hand towards Bobby.

“Nice to meet you. Gale,” he introduced himself, classy as always.

“N-nice to meet you, sir. Bobby. I mean, Robert,” Bobby shook his hand and you would laugh at that if you weren’t so scared of Gale witnessing that boy walking you home in the evening. Your dress, your makeup, your hair… It was obvious there had been some sort of a date going on between you two.

“Thank you for entertaining my girl and being such a gentleman to walk her back home,” Gale told him and Bobby looked away anxiously.

“No problem… We just had dinner together, that’s it…” He explained.

“Yeah!” Your mother added. “Told you, Mr. Cleven, they’re just friends,” she nodded eagerly and you furrowed your brows at her.

“Well, thank you for tonight, Bobby. It was nice,” you smiled fakely at the boy and you took Gale by his hand to walk inside the house with him.

Your mother said goodnight to Bobby and closed the door behind him as you and Gale were standing awkwardly together in the hall.

“We are all in the living room, getting to know your boyfriend better,” your mother explained to you as she put her hand on your shoulder and smiled nervously at Gale. “Mr. Cleven wanted to surprise you because he was missing you so much. You’re going to sleep with your sister tonight, I prepared her bedroom for Mr. Cleven to sleep in.”

You only nodded at that. Your father walked out of the living room and hurried Gale to come back to them because he was very interested in some story from the war. You let go of Gale’s hand and watched him walk away before you followed your mother inside the kitchen.

She was slicing a pie when she looked up at you with guilt in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…” She whispered. “I didn’t know he would come… Obviously, I wouldn’t make you go on that date with Bobby if–”

“It was not a date,” you interrupted her. “And it was awful. Bobby is not a good man. Why did you change your mind about Gale, though?” You furrowed your brow at her.

“Seeing him in real life, I mean… He is a very kind man and you can just… You can just feel that he’s good,” she sighed. “And much more handsome than in the picture,” she smiled nervously at you. “I’m glad that you have him and–”

“It’s too late for that,” you interrupted her again. “And God only knows if I still have him,” your lower lip trembled but you moved away when she approached you to give you a hug. Shaking your head, you walked out of the kitchen and you sniffled your tears back before joining the rest in the living room.

You sat next to Gale on the sofa with a soft smile. Your father was occupying an armchair and listening to Gale’s story with nothing but pure interest on his face. Your sister was sitting on the armrest of his armchair and listening as well even though girls like her were usually not into war stories.

You watched your family fall for Gale for the rest of the evening while you kept sitting there and worrying if you weren’t losing him in the meantime. Knowing how awkward the situation currently was, your father didn’t even ask him any serious questions about the nature of your relationship.

When the clock struck midnight, everyone decided to go to bed. Gale was especially tired after his train ride. You went to the bathroom first and took a quick shower before getting into your nightgown. Gale was a gentleman and he allowed your sister to take a shower before him but when they were talking about it in the corridor, you hid inside your bedroom. You sat on the bed, remembering to make space for your sister, too.

A slight knock upon your door made you look up anxiously. You knew it was Gale and your heart became a lump in your throat.

“C-come in,” you whispered.

He opened the door shyly and walked inside, looking around with a soft smile at the sight of your room.

“I finally have you for myself for a short while,” he said and approached your bed. You noticed that he left the door to your room ajar – such a gentleman, always.

“You don’t know my sister, Gale. It won’t be a short while. Her quick shower is at least half an hour long,” you chuckled and he smiled at that.

“Can I sit next to you?” He asked and blushed a little.

“You don’t have to ask me such things,” you moved slightly to make more space.

“Don’t I?” He took a seat next to you and looked deep into your eyes. You opened your mouth to answer but he continued. “Listen, I understand. I am older than you and I am not exactly… I am not exactly the happiest person, I have a past… I understand, I really do. And I am not angry, I would never be angry at you but… You could have written that to me. I just don’t understand the lies. At that, I am a little angry but I’m trying not to be, I assume you were scared of hurting or rejecting me,” Gale’s voice broke a little and so did your heart because he had misunderstood everything so awfully and yet… He was so kind and gentle about it. So understanding. “You sounded so sad in your letter; that you missed me and that you… That you… That you loved me,” his jaw clenched and his eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to come here and make sure you were alright. I’ve been missing you like crazy… And… Yeah, you could have just written to me that you met someone else.”

“Gale…” His name was all you managed to let out in a broken whisper. You caught his trembling hands into yours and squeezed them, trying to pour all of your love into him in this small gesture. “Gale, it’s not like this… Please, believe me,” you started. “Bobby is the son of my mum’s friend and they wanted us to date despite me telling them I have you already. They were very pushy and I agreed to have dinner with him. It was not a date, though, and it was awful,” you cracked a smile through your own tears. “I don’t want to ever see him again, in fact. He was rude and we don’t share the same beliefs or ideology. But even if we did and if he was kind, he would only become my friend and nothing else. Because I already have a boyfriend and I am happy with him and proud of him and…” You shook your head and gasped, trying to find the right words. “And if you don’t believe me, I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

Short silence occurred. Gale blinked away all of his tears and his lips finally curled up in a soft smile. You loved that genuine, loving smile on his face. You let go of his hands to cup his cheeks and caress his scars with your thumbs.

“I believe you, my love, why wouldn’t I?” He asked quietly. “It didn’t make sense to me why would you lie in your letters anyway. It didn’t seem like my girl at all,” he admitted.

“I am. I am your girl,” you nodded to assure him and you pulled his face down to join your foreheads together. “And I would never lie to you like that. I would never break your heart. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he pecked your lips.

“Ugh,” your sister’s sigh made you both move away from each other and look up at her. “I can go to my room. Mom will not notice,” she told you.

“No, no,” Gale shook his head and stood up. “I am leaving for the night now.”

Sometimes, you hated what a gentleman he was.

“Goodnight, girls,” he winked at you and squeezed your sister’s arm before leaving the room.

“Do you share a room together in college?” Your sister asked when she laid on the other side of your bed.

“No!” You felt your cheeks heating up. “Girls have their own dormitories and boys have their own,” you explained and laid down next to her before turning the small lamp by your bed off.

“I didn’t know… But that makes sense,” she admitted and moved closer to you. “Do you think I will go to college, too? Is it fun?”

“It’s very fun. And I hope you will go,” you kissed her forehead. “You just have to keep getting good grades,” you assured her. 

“And do you think I’m going to meet a nice man like Gale there?”

“Oh, dear,” you laughed softly. “I hope so. But a man like him is one in a million.”

“You must miss him terribly when you’re here and he’s there,” she sighed.

“I am. And you know what? Tomorrow, I might go back with him,” you told her as you made this decision inside your head this very moment. You didn’t have to see her face to know that she was sad about it. “You can go with me if mom and dad agree. My roommate is with her family so I have space in my room,” you assured her and rubbed her arm. “And now go to sleep, little one.”

You tried to fall asleep, too, but you could only think of Gale being in the room next to yours, in your little sister’s pink bedroom. You chuckled at the thought.

When her breath was steady and you were sure that she had fallen asleep, you carefully slid out of the covers and you tip-toed to her bedroom where Gale was. He was tossing and turning when you entered and you thought that he couldn’t fall asleep either but no, you quickly realised that he was having a nightmare. He had told you about them before but you had never witnessed them yourself.

“Gale…” You touched him gently, scared of what he might do when he suddenly wakes up. However, you didn’t want him to be tormented in his sleep anymore. “Gale…”

He opened his eyes and sat up, breathing heavily. You turned the small lamp on your sister’s bedside table and you sat on the edge of the bed to cup his sweaty face. His eyes were widened and he looked like he couldn’t recognise you or the place – but the second part was quite understandable.

“Baby, it’s me,” you cooed sweetly. “You’re at my place, in my sister’s bedroom,” you told him. “You’re safe,” you added to assure him and you felt his muscles relaxing.

“Was I… Was I loud?” He asked and rubbed his face with his hand.

“No, darling, I just sneaked out of my room to lay with you for a while but I saw you were having a nightmare,” you admitted and Buck looked at you in a funny way – nearly as if he was scolding you. You giggled a bit at that and fixed his ruffled hair. “Well, I don’t have to lay here if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he pulled you closer by your waist and you ended up laying on his chest. He hugged you tightly and you hugged him back as his fingers played with your hair. “I just didn’t expect you to be such a little rebel.”

“There’s still a lot about me for you to learn, Mr. Cleven,” you teased.

“I can’t wait,” he whispered in all seriousness before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Thirty - Yesterday

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Racism

A/N: Yeahhhh, so I ended up splitting the chapter anyway lol It was gonna be like 70+ pages, I freaking had to. So sorry for that wait just for a normal chapter!

Read Full on AO3

[excerpt]

Ugh, his head was killing him.

His neck too, although that wasn’t anything new. Nothing he shouldn’t have expected considering how badly he’d torn into it this time. 

Shigaraki really couldn’t remember what about today had been so horrible and overwhelming (or maybe it was yesterday now, considering he had no idea how long he’d been out of it for). At any rate, it wasn’t just one thing, he supposed. 

It was the anniversary of the day Sensei got rid of Mon-chan, that day each year was always a rough one. His dreams always seemed to be a lot worse, so he usually made a concerted effort to not sleep the night before, so he was tired. Not to mention the summer weather was sweltering, and it had rained the day before, that hot humidity causing his worn skin to sting in a strangely familiar and disturbing way.

And then he’d gotten to school. God, fucking school. 

There were alternating stretches in his life among his school peers, where either they’d be scared of and avoid him, or be superior and bully him. He supposed actually that the former actions — the social isolation they consciously put him through — was technically a form of bullying too, but whatever. There was a difference. There were times where the general collective got a lot more hands on with asserting his pariah status to him. 

This week fell during the “hands-on” period of the cycle, as evidenced by the words “die, pervert, die” scribbled across his shoe locker in sharpie. Not to mention the way he was continuously and subtly tripped by the other boys during their gym class. At one point he’d also accidentally bumped into that cute girl that sat next to him — Fuwa he was pretty sure her name was — and she had physically recoiled, whispering and giggling loudly with her friends after about how creepy and nasty he was. Practically making sure that he could hear every word of it.

But honestly, he couldn’t even say that that was the issue that really started to make his skin crawl. He didn’t really notice it much. His homeroom teacher sure had though. She asked him to speak with her in the faculty office during lunch. Expressed concern there over his antisocial behavior and lack of cohesiveness with his peers. Not to mention some of the unsavory rumors she’d overheard about him recently. At the end of the lecture she mentioned that if things didn’t turn around soon, she’d want to speak with his Guardian.

He supposed that’s what he’d ultimately been thinking about when calculus came around that afternoon, his fingers clawing deeper and deeper into the side of his neck as he tried to figure out what to do. Because, what the actual fuck was he supposed to do? How could he turn this around when he wasn’t the one to even put his life in this direction in the first place? He didn’t fucking do anything wrong, didn’t do anything to anybody. He had no control. He was helpless. 

Even as he tried to stay in his seat when called up to solve an equation on the board, he could do nothing about it. There would be consequences if he didn’t get up right now. He was completely at the teacher’s mercy. At the other students’ mercy. At his Sensei’s mercy.

At everyone else’s mercy, just like he’d always been.

His life wasn’t his own, it never had been. And he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He didn’t want to die, but he wanted everyone else to. He wanted everything around him to just crumble away and leave him alone and finally give him some goddamn fucking peace — whatever that was. 

Because he couldn’t imagine peace, truly. He’d never had it. All he had was hatred, the desire to destroy everything around him. He hated this school, these fucking people, this life.

Himself. 

Jesus, that’s probably what he hated most of all.

And then he didn’t have many more thoughts after that. It was all a blur of screams and people grabbing him and blood loss. Overwhelming pressure and a searing itch that seeped all the way down into his bones.

Yeah it had been bad, even he could admit that. It was pretty hard to deny when the scratching episode had ended with him in a forced stretcher and ambulanceride to the, several stitches, and an express ticket to the stark white intake room of Jaku Hospital’s Psychiatric Ward where little Miss Nurse Ratched was currently watching him like a hawk as he unbuckled his belt. 

Seriously, if he wanted a woman to look at him this unimpressed while he undressed, he would’ve accepted a night with one of Sensei’s hookers.

Whatever, it’s not like any of that really bothered him that much now. It was done, he was here. The bitch could glare and gripe at him all she wanted, but what was really irritating him the most about this situation was the pounding in his head. For fuck’s sake, they were in a hospital after all. Was it too much for him to get some goddamn ibuprofen before he took his pants off? The hell kind of operation was Garaki running here?

Free from the loops of his slacks, Shigaraki dropped his belt onto the ground, pointedly next to, but not in, the personal items bin that the Nurse had set out for him.

She didn’t so much as blink at the disrespect, only informed him:

“Dress shirt too.”

Shigaraki shot her a look, “Seriously?”

“You could swallow the buttons,” she explained simply in that obnoxious deadpan.

He scoffed at the explanation, but did start to undo his uniform shirt. Whatever, he figured, as the bloodied collar slackened around his shoulders and into his view. It’s not like he could wear this one again anyway. 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be an asshole about it though.

“Sure you don’t need my pants too? I might make a noose out of them,” he spat as he tore the shirt from his forearms, “Ooh, or how about my underwear? If I’m determined enough, I bet you I could choke on those too.”

The Nurse just stared at him with that completely unimpressed expression.

“Just the shirt will suffice.”

Well, then. He was sure that she was just a blast at parties.

Stripped down just to his black undershirt and school slacks, the Nurse gave him a final onceover. She lingered for a moment on his uwabaki — having been rushed out straight from his math class, he hadn’t had the chance to switch out of them.

“No laces on those?”

“Does it fucking look like it?”

She circled around him, checking the shoes at every angle, before making another mark on her clipboard.

“You can keep those.”

“Well thank God for that.”

She looked up over her clipboard blankly, “You know, we have scrubs we can give you. Then we can skip this whole ordeal.”

Clearly she wished that he’d gone with that option. She wanted this over with just as much as he did. But the reality was that she was wasting her time even more than she realized. The doctor had told him that they were putting him on a 72-hour psychiatric hold sure, but they were fucking idiots if they thought that was actually going to happen.

He shivered a bit as a gust from the AC rushed over him, bringing up his bare arms to wrap around himself.

“I’d prefer you guys give me a jacket or something to put on in here,” he growled, “It’s cold as shit.”

“You can ask your guardian to bring any necessary items like that when you see him,” she explained, not looking at him, “Just make sure he reads all the guidelines first.”

Shigaraki rolled his eyes, because of course they weren’t going to offer him anything actually useful, “Whatever. Is he here yet? Are we done?”

Finally she seemed to be finished with her clipboard, bringing it down to rest at her hip and looking him in the eye.

“He just arrived, actually. Do you want to see him?”

Shigaraki gave her a confused look.

“Wha- yeah? Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

“I’m just asking,” she explained, “I don’t know what your home-life situation is. And our goal here is to keep you safe and mentally stable. If he’s someone that might upset or trigger you, we want to respect that.”

Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed. God, this bitch was really pissing him off.

“Well I’m fine, so just get me the hell out of here already.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, just stared at him with that blank expression that Shigaraki was quickly realizing was a poker face. She was analyzing him, looking for cracks? Waiting for him to snap or break down or all of it? Whatever her aim was, it had him itching to grab the plastic bin next to him and cuck it right at her.

“This way then,” she finally relented, turning to lead him out of the intake room, “We’ll need you and your guardian to fill out a couple of forms before we can fully admit you.”

“Yeah well, good luck with that,” he said, happy to keep as much of that  biting attitude in his voice as possible.

She paused for a moment after typing in her door code, remembering seemingly.

“Oh. One more thing before we go though.”

Continue on AO3

[annwrites]

—fire & ice

when the snows fall & the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. — parkrangercregan! x stranded!reader ; ೄྀ࿐⸙͎

↳ inspo

Once he's unlatched the trap from your injured ankle, he slides an arm around your back and beneath one of your own, helping you stand.

"This is probably going to be a stupid question," he says, looking at your tear-stained face. "But can you put any weight on it?"

Gingerly, you try pressing your boot against the ground, and a searing pain shoots up your leg, causing you to cry out in agony. "I can't! I can't! It hurts!"

He nods. "I figured. Was worth a shot, though."

He slips his other arm beneath your knees then, lifting you.

"Wha—"

"That nasty winter storm is going to be here soon. I need to get us both back to my cabin before it hits."

to get away from the city, work, & general unhappiness, you decide to go on a short vacation: a hiking expedition in an alaskan national park.

things go awry, however, when you get stranded—a coil spring trap closed firmly around your ankle—with a snow & ice storm headed your way.

thankfully, cregan stark, a park ranger, comes to your rescue when he hears you screaming for help & crying out in pain as you try & fail to remove the metal jaws from your skin.

with no other option, he takes the both of you back to his cabin to wait out the weather...for the next two weeks.

together, he discovers you were in need of just more than medical aid & you come to realize he's not as gruff & rugged as he initially seemed. that, maybe, things really do happen for a reason.

headcanons:

cregan is very self-sufficient in regards to his cabin.

has a back-up generator that kicks on immediately if the power goes out.

plenty of candles, batteries, & non-perishables.

knows how to sew like nobody's business.

lots of chopped firewood.

big fan of stew.

makes his own jerky.

can cook like you wouldn't believe.

cast iron skillet ftw.

knows how to fix pretty much anything

trained diligently in first aid.

not talkative whatsoever.

likes to hunt & fish.

bird watcher.

lots of blankets.

cabin is quite rustic, but very cozy.

doesn't watch a lot of tv—he still owns a box one, though.

mostly vhs tapes & some dvds. the hell are 'blu-rays'?

prefers to read & journal about things he finds in the woods—his thoughts & about his daily excursions. kinda a bit of an artist. only draws with pencils, though.

no social media whatsoever. what's a facespace & a mybook? has a flip phone that's a burner & it's only used for emergencies, or if he needs to get ahold of work bc he's gonna be late or something.

doesn't run into town a lot, but when he does it's mostly for grocery shopping, or to check out a ton of books from the library.

is very much a giver in bed to the point where he forgets he's supposed to be focusing on himself, too. he's too concerned with whether you're enjoying yourself.

would give oral all day if that's what you wanted (honestly, sometimes he's the one to ask if he can give it to you, he's that eager to do it).

since your ankle is injured, carries you around the cabin to an obnoxious degree until you have to politely tell him you're sure you can make it three feet from the couch to the dining table that's just behind it.

stands watching with his arms crossed the whole time, though, just waiting for you to so much as wobble so he has an excuse to pick you up again.

gives you his bedroom while he sleeps on his pullout couch. refuses to hear you insisting it should really be the other way around.

likes watching you watch the snowfall outside.

looks away & back to his book as soon as you feel like you're being stared at, though.

no condoms up in this bitch.

he is totes a caretaker type.

has a garage off the cabin so he can easily get to his plethora of tools & such during winter storms without having to traipse through 10 ft of snow.

[salternateunreality2]

Sephiroth would make a great Canadian

Hear me out.

Goes tits out in all weather, meaning he can handle the cold.

Has committed many war crimes.

Very polite and unassuming in social settings.

Hair like snow, eyes like the northern lights.

Can be very dorky (/affectionate).

You look me in the eyes and tell me that that sweet murder kitten has not at least contemplated pouring maple syrup on everything.

Built like a moose.

His greatest ops are very goose-coded (Cloud Strife, Genesis Rhapsodos).

His mother (Jenova/England) has real nasty colonizer vibes.

[watchmegetobsessed]

SNACKS AND SEX

A/N: a little something, because i thought i would be done with the single dadrry fic by now... but im not so i just wrote this quickly bc i felt bad hahahah

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNING: a bit of body issues

SUMMARY: You're three months pregnant, but the world doesn't know. Seeing some pictures of yourself online really get to you.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Social media has been a weird hole in your life ever since you started dating Harry. You weren’t an obsessive user before, but you spent your fair share of time scrolling on Twitter and Instagram, checking out funny posts.

But then they were about you.

Five years into dating Harry, one year of that spent as husband and wife, you still can’t stop yourself from wandering online and hurting yourself by seeing something mean about a photo or a nasty gossip. You promised yourself a million times before that you wouldn’t even check what complete strangers have to say about you, but it’s hard to keep away from the internet.

It’s a random Thursday evening when you break your promise again and it brings you to tears. Harry is out to get your Sour Patch Kids, because that was your pregnancy craving of the day and you tried to ignore it, but then ended up asking Harry to run to the store and get them for you without a word or complain. He’s been your hero not just since you’ve found out you’re pregnant three months ago, but probably since you met him.

So while you’re waiting for him, you’re munching on some chips, scrolling on Twitter aimlessly.

And then you find a thread about yourself.

Two days ago you went for a walk around the neighborhood, the weather was nice, you felt like you needed to get out of the house so you and Harry walked to your favorite bakery, got some donuts and took a stroll. Paparazzi keep away from the neighborhood where you live, Harry has had a long but successful fight with them in the past so now they keep their distance, so you weren’t worried about getting papped. But you can’t have normal people away every time you’re out on the streets. He has fans everywhere and love taking pictures of him doing literally anything, whether it’s just crossing the street, being on a run or walking around with her pregnant wife eating donuts.

Well, people don’t know you’re pregnant and hopefully they won’t find out for months.

You kind of saw a few girls get worked up when they spotted the two of you, but you were hoping they would be respectful and not take pictures. You were wrong. And now you’re met with a series of photos of you, your face stuffed with donuts like you never ate any before. They caught you in a bad moment, for sure. You haven’t washed your hair in days, you were wearing baggy clothes because one, they hide your growing belly amazingly and two, those are what you feel the most comfortable in. Your body is going through some major changes, comfort is your number one priority these days.

But now you’re watching people tear you apart for looking so slobby and practically just the shadow of yourself compared to what you used to look like five years ago.

She definitely shouldn’t be eating donuts, lol.

Wow, she put on so much weight!

Harry is just getting hotter, while she is turning into… that.

She is twice the size like she was at the Grammy’s omg!

You just can’t stop reading the nasty messages, they seem to be endless, about your look, your clothes and mostly about the size of your body. You immediately stop eating the chips and toss the pack away as you keep scrolling.

Tears start dwelling in your eyes, feeling like all these comments are being thrown at you relentlessly. There’s no doubt you’ve gained weight, pregnancy has been crazy for you, you’ve been constantly hungry, always eating something because whenever you tried to keep yourself out of the kitchen, your body definitely started rioting against you until you gave it what you wanted. So you’ve been putting on extra weight these past months, but you didn’t think much of it until now.

“Fuck,” you mumble, tears rolling down your cheeks as you lock the phone and toss it to the side, staring ahead of you, the comments playing in your mind on repeat.

It gets you so worked up that you don’t even notice when Harry returns.

“Love? I got everything you’ve been craving!” he sings as he walks down the hallway, smiling to himself thinking about all the treats in his tote bag.

You jump at his voice and try to hide your state, but a moment later he walks in and sees you sitting at the dining table, crying.

“Hey, what happened?” he asks, dropping the bag and rushing over to you, kneeling in front of you. “What happened? Talk to me, baby!”

“Nothing,” you breathe out shakily, but even the blind could see that you’re crying. “But… I don’t want the snacks anymore.”

“What? You’ve been craving them all day, I got all your favorites!”

“I don’t…” you shake your head and even though you’re fighting hard to stop crying, it just gets worse.

“Y/N, don’t tell me nothing happened, something clearly upset you! Please, I want to help!” he begs, feeling helpless seeing you like this.

Instead of answering, you just grab your phone, unlock it and hand it over to him and wait as he reads over some of the mean tweets.

“Baby…” he exhales, putting the phone to the side as he pulls out the chair next to yours and sits beside you, his hands never letting go of yours in your lap. “These idiots don’t matter, they have no idea that you’re pregnant!”

“I’m pregnant, yeah, but I also gained a lot of weight and I’m only entering the second trimester! I look horrible!”

“No, you don’t, you look amazing!”

“Don’t bullshit me, I look like shit on those pictures and I have a feeling I look the same now as well!” you snap at him. Your hormones have been all over the place so you’ve been overreacting a lot lately, but you just can’t help it.

“But that’s not what I see. I see my beautiful wife enjoying some great donuts she deserved because she is growing our baby in her belly. Did you put on some weight? Yes, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I loved you before pregnancy, I love you now and I will love you forever.”

“How do you not think I look hideous?” you moan, still not convinced.

“Because I’m in love with you and all I care about is that you’re nourished, loved and cared for so you can care for our baby in there,” he says, placing a hand to your growing belly. “People will always have something to say about us, that doesn’t mean it’s true. I was there with you on our walk, I saw you eat those donuts and wanna know what I thought?”

“What?” you ask in a whisper.

“I was so happy that I saw you eat them with those pleased hums, I loved knowing that you have what you want and need. That’s all that mattered to me.”

Harry can tell you’re still not entirely on the same page as him and he is determined to get your mind to the right place.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Y/N. And you’re going through some extreme changes so we can grow our family. Be nice to your body, because it’s gifting us with a baby. I promise you that even on your worst day, when you feel like you don’t want anyone to look at you, I would still think the same thing about you.”

“Are you sure?” you ask as he wipes your tears off of your cheeks.

“I can’t be more sure, I promise. Now why don’t we get comfortable on the couch, I’ll rub your feet and we can eat the snacks I got and then maybe have sex too,” he adds cheekily and it finally makes you laugh.

“Harry!”

“What?” he grins. “I told you, you’re beautiful. Of course I want to have sex with my amazing wife!”

“You don’t mind the weight I’ve put on?”

“No,” he answers confidently. “I love all of you, I love this wonderful body of yours that’s cooking my baby in there,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses your stomach, making you laugh. Then he wraps you in his arms and pulls you into his embrace. “We good?” he hums.

“Yeah,” you nod, holding onto him tight.

“So, snacks?”

“Yes.”

“And sex?” he adds, his hands wondering down to your butt, giving it a nice squeeze.

“Mm… Maybe. After snacks,” you say, making him laugh this time.

“Deal!”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[newbornwhumperfly]

to mention problem in front of power...

whilst these final two chapters are belated, there was simply no choice but to end whumpmas with a whimper 😈🥺😈 for this @whumpmasinjuly prompt - day 18: or else - i published a follow-up to this chapter. oops, jorah is being his nasty, intimidating self. that's just who he is, folks, we couldn't have too nice a time 😇😇😇

CW: punishment, burn whump, hidden whump

title insp. by the poem "social skills training" by solmaz sherif - "studies suggest it's best not to mention problem in front of power even to say there is none."

~

He’s not supposed to have opinions about…the company around him. It doesn’t matter, for example, that everyone at Fort Hill is so merciful. It doesn’t matter, for example, that he is comfortable here. That he has enough and more than enough of everything and there is no measure given to what Morja is allowed compared to what he done.

Everyone does their part here, Captain Brax had told him, speaking the way they do where their words slot into place sensible and correct. Just do your part to help the group and we shall return the favor, everyone goes to bed content. A smile that makes his insides shift to a calm rhythm and agree, yes, that all makes sense when they say it. 

But consequences work in strange ways here with the enormous amount of allowances. 

It makes Morja worry, still, that even the Commander has not…hurt him very badly, yet. That there have been no whippings. No long exposure in the weather, outside. Nothing that has even made him bleed. 

He hasn’t had to keep himself in line so much for…ever.

But he still hasn’t been punished for hitting Lieutenant- for hitting Cobi. A week of waiting, strangely, felt itself like a punishment. Laying on his back, in his bed, hands over the ache in his stomach, pressing his thumb into the bruise on his knuckles. Unable to sleep more than an hour a night. 

The hardest part of correction here is that he never knows when it will happen. Not that he deserves to be told. Of course not. It is just…it would help if he knew when. 

Knowing it’s stupid and cowardly and almost certainly disobedient hasn’t kept Morja from trying to stay out of Cobi’s way, skirting rooms he is in, avoiding the gym for his workouts until very early or very late, trying to sweat out his nerves. 

It’s only because he has a job this weekend (laundry duty, something that, somehow, is not his duty every day) which sends him into the recreation room where he knows Cobi waits, where he plays with the Commander and some visiting officers. Morja shouldn’t have to, at this point, but his throat still clicks when he slips through the door and watches the width of Cobi’s arms stretch across the pool table, the curl of how large his hands are around the stick. 

At a crow of victory, Cobi pumps his fist in the air, pushing it back through his curls, the shadow of his- his black eye faint but visible. 

The balls click together loudly, thudding clatter, Morja’s ears buzz for a second. Distracts himself by keeping to the edge of the room, cleaning up a little, maybe, maybe if he’s useful Cobi is less likely to notice him in annoyance or…worse. 

In the corner, the teevee flickers with bright, loud noises, and men yell, jostle, shout as cars race across the screen and their hands move frantically over black boxes. A soft cloud of smoke tells Morja that the Commander is over encouraging one of his friends on the couch. 

Black hair, backwards cap, solid back and shoulders, making most of the noise. A thinner man with yellow hair joining him in play, lanky, laughing a lot. A short redhead, at the pool table, square and quiet and making Cobi grin. Jorah’s - the Commander’s - friends.

Morja shouldn’t be distracted in a room full of people, he really shouldn’t be making pictures in his head, but his hands move quiet and efficient over empty beer bottles and bags of chips, countertop to garbage bin, and he is so used to not being seen in a room at all. He should know better than to almost startle when a voice stops him in his tracks. 

“Looking for something?”

Morja spins around so fast the bottles he was holding clink together loudly in his hands, shit, and his throat clicks again at the Commander being suddenly very close. His stomach drops as suddenly eyes, every eye, turns to him. 

Morja can’t get his mouth to work for a second, dry, swallowing. The smell of ash is very close and only the island of a countertop seperates him from the Commander leaning forward on his elbows, staring. His gaze is hard and cold. 

When is it not?

“Cleaning. I’m just cleaning up a- a little bit?”

Morja hates that he ended it as a question. Doesn’t he know whether he’s cleaning up or not, diathésimos? It’s hard to think with the blare of light and crashing cars and buzzing music from the screen across the room. His skin crawls. 

A laugh booms across the space and Morja flinches again as Cobi calls out. “Hey, buddy, you any good at pool? Martz here is kicking my ass, so much for my long reach-“

“Who’s the wallflower?” Another voice cuts out, booming, like Cobi’s, but…no laughter. Or…different laughter, as the man in the backwards cap calls over his shoulder. “Waiting to be asked to dance?” The blond man at his side titters - “Nice, Petey-“ - and Morja’s hands feel large and clumsy around the bottles. 

“That’s my friend Morja, Ben, and I bet he’d love a chance to beat your sorry asses at pool. Could probably gimme a run for my money, right, Jorah? Can’t beat ‘im in much, I’ve learned!” 

Cobi beams across the room and what does that mean? Is it- is that a reference? Is he trying to draw Morja out, somehow? Is this another strange kindness? His blue eyes are bright behind the black eye and Morja can’t read anything but the smile on his face. 

Jorah breathes out a cloud of smoke from his cigarette and Morja stifles his urge to cough, speaking tightly and quietly against the itch in the back of his throat and the watering in his eyes. 

“…Thank you, um, I really just came to ask if you needed any laundry collected?” Morja bites down on the sir or anotéros he wants to end that with and the chasm it leaves under his feet makes his stomach clench. He should be trying to be as good as possible right now and that smile he gets back only makes him blink harder. 

“Aw, man, thanks for asking, I totally fuckin’ forget- left the basket by my door so you can just take it. Uh, got some shirts that I gotta iron, take ‘em also. Thanks, Morja!” 

“…It’s my job.”

“And it’s very helpful!”

Morja seeks the familiar comfort of the garbage bin because what does he say to that, trying not to fumble under the attention as he drops glass into the blue bin, plastic into another. 

“Hey, Morja.” 

Morja freezes. The Commander doesn’t say his name…much. His palms prickle a little. 

“Grab me a beer while you’re over there.” Jorah’s eyes are unreadable when Morja meets them and he gestures to the fridge behind Morja, a flutter of ash falling to the countertop. Blows another cloud of smoke around a row of straight teeth. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

Morja’s hand actually slips on the handle of the fridge-door getting it open, quick, efficient,  sweating, pulling out the cool glass bottle and hearing the Commander call out - “Yo, Petey? Kip? Need a top-up?” 

Morja gathers more before he even hears the yells of confirmation and moves across the space with four bottles in his hand - Commander and his two friends and Cobi because he can’t neglect to serve him even a little bit. He doesn’t look up at the Commander when the cigarette is ground out on the sink, left smoldering on the shiny steel, but the boots stay close for a long moment. Morja breathes again when they retreat, taking the bottles with them, handing them out with cheers in answer. 

Breathes deeper when he escapes, no, walks back into the hallway, takes the moment of pleasure and loudness to vanish into his duties. 

He should have known he didn’t have permission to breathe deep. 

Morja is too drawn into his tasks, in doing a good job gathering baskets of clothing, in carefully washing the bundles one by one with care, in the little measure of relief he takes in spending extra time washing Cobi’s things. Extra treatment to get the sweat-stains out. The grease and oil and spice of snacks smeared on shirts. Bleach and scent and color-correct, the neatly labeled supplies laid out in the laundry room. The slow, even press of the hot iron over those shirts, one by one, getting a straight collar, a crisp cuff - Cobi will be pleased by the shirts. 

In his rhythm, his lax enjoyment of the amends, he almost doesn’t hear the click of the door until it shuts. 

Morja almost drops the iron, shameful, setting it carefully on the board and going to stiff attention as the Commander stands in the shadow of the doorway. Quiet. Eyes narrow and cold as always, for a long moment. 

“Sir.”

Silence. Morja’s mouth goes dry. He waits, waits for a minute, longer, before his fucking will breaks to glance up. Through the small window of the door, there is a broad back and a backwards cap. Commander’s friend standing at the door.

Morja’s fingertips prickle again and his chest seizes on a stopped breath. He isn’t going to be trouble. He isn’t- he won’t fight back against correction, there doesn’t need to be a guard. Does the Commander think Morja can’t be trusted to obey? 

Why wouldn’t he? Not after what happened. Morja is no better than a feral dog if bites when being trained. 

Heat crawls up Morja’s neck, his chest, flushing all the way down to the shrinking feeling in his stomach. Can’t be trusted. Of course. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands as the Commander walks up to the ironing board and he wants to kneel at the Commander’s feet, hot and shaky, smaller, lesser, fuckup.

“These are Cobi’s shirts.”

Morja doesn’t know if that’s a question. 

“…Yessir?”

Shouldn’t you know, fuckwit?

One hand strokes over the green cloth spread out on the ironing board, the row of dark buttons, the collar, plucking at the sleeve. 

“You missed a spot.”

What?

Before the little spike of cold can land, Morja is flung forward on the ironing board, the side of his head slamming into the surface, ringing, the air driven out of him, the edge driving into his chest. He gasps and the hand, the Commander’s hand, tight, cold, squeezing to the point of pain, pinning. Morja’s hands are behind his back, he doesn’t struggle, he can be still.

“Do you. See. This. Wrinkle?”

Morja’s throat moves, works around dryness, tries to answer, can’t see more than the long stretch of board, bunched green cloth, the iron at the end. 

“Here, take a closer look.”

The Commander picks up the iron. 

Sets it right in front of his face.

Breathe. 

Fingers pinch the skin of his skin, pressing, holding, and Morja can see the shimmer of heat in the air. The metal an inch from his face. Even the closeness to the heat hurts, his cheek burning before it burns, hot, hot, hot. All he can see is flat silver, shiny, shimmering. 

A voice in his ear, a close whisper that would make him shudder if he wasn’t locked-muscles-tight. 

He doesn’t flinch. He knows better than to move to avoid a blow. He knows better than to avoid a consequence. Doesn’t he?

“You know, I’ve heard a lot about your mistake a few days ago. How you accidentally hit my friend, oh, sorry, kicked him.” Breath tickles at his ear, hotter than the wave rolling over his face, hard and angry, and if Morja even breathes too deep, his skin will touch the iron. “Tell me, Asset, are you…sloppy? Or are you insubordinate?”

Heat. Pressure. Lips cracking under the heat. 

His feet are solid on the ground and his hands are tight behind his back. Thumbnail into palm. The prick of skin draws in air. 

“…Sloppy, sir. I apologize. I…I’ll do better, sir.”

A long moment that stretches like heat through air, slow and wavery, every pressure point, every throb of pain, chest, neck, head, hand, keeps him still and steady. Keeps him in place. 

He can remember how to hold still for things. 

The iron pulls away and a lack-of-heat drags another breath into him that becomes a grunt when the grip on his neck seizes a handful of hair and yanks him upright. Staggers, a little, but is at attention, even while his scalp strains under the tug. He’s been dragged by his hair, before, and this grip barely pulls a strand out. 

“Roll up your sleeve.”

Morja doesn’t need to be told twice. Unclasps his hands to unbutton his cuff, roll his sleeve up, up, to the elbow. There is no red on his nail - at the very least, his self-control was measured enough to not cut himself. 

“Arm on the table.”

Deep breath. Swallow. Plant feet on the floor, plant arm on the board. 

“Palm down.”

Oh. Right. He’s not used to it being palm down but he rolls his arm over to the side that has a different kind of scar. Where the lines and holes are less straight and deliberate, more jagged, more scattered. It is only right to be hurt on the side of his skin that is marred by mistakes rather than corrections. 

“My team might look past your sloppiness but the kind of mistakes- well, if they are mistakes, but the fuckups that you make get good people hurt. I can’t let that happen. It’s my job to keep an eye on shit, to minimize mistakes.”

People make mistakes, buddy. But he’s not people - he’s a diathésimos. Shame tightens his stomach and something else, underneath, just as uncomfortable, unfamiliar. He curls his hand into a fist and his nail slots into the groove of his palm. 

The burn doesn’t surprise him, the stabofsharphotthrobbingdowntobone, smell of flesh-and-heat, and it's gone. It lasted barely long enough to grunt behind his teeth, the iron pulled away from his arm before the sound even got out. Burns always feel like they last longer than they do. This was a quick burn. 

A red v-shape streak, already swelling, looks strange on his arm, somehow. 

“Look at that. You burned yourself doing laundry. Now, if you weren’t being sloppy that wouldn’t have happened. Sometimes you’ll just get hit and you gotta take it.”

The burn throbs, bright, the smell of singed hair and detergent swirl in his nostrils. Morja rolls his sleeve down over the mark and buttons his cuff again. Neat, straight, at attention. With a final shove that bangs his hip into the edge of the board, the Commander releases him, retreating towards the door. 

“You’ve got a lot of laundry to finish.”

Morja breathes slow, deep, around the throbbing in his chest. Just from the bruise - the edge of the board hit him harder than he thought. His arm throbs, the blister pressing up against his sleeve. 

“You’ll be more careful next time. Won’t you, Morja?”

He looks up and the Commander- Jorah’s eyes are such a different blue than Lieutenant Cobi’s. Shiny silver, flat iron, cold rolling off, heat in a wave. 

“…I’ll be more careful, sir.”

The correction rolls through him, wounds pulsing their second heartbeat, steadying his first until his hands don’t shake around the iron. Every wrinkle is smoothed, crisp like sheets of paper, rigid and at-attention, as he is calm. Finally, calm. 

With the rhythm of this other heartbeat, familiar, so familiar, he might, at last, sleep through the night. 

~

don't you all see that jorah is just keeping everyone safe? 😇😇😇 it's his job to be vigilant! isn't he protecting everyone from morja's vicious, uh, (checks notes) submissiveness? 😇😇😇

taglist: @much-ado-about-whumping @whump-tr0pes @i-eat-worlds @haro-whumps @whumpzone

@wolfeyedwitch @whumpthisway @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @straight-to-the-pain

@kixngiggles @scoundrelwithboba @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whatgoeswhumpinthenight @liliability

@tears-and-lilies @stoic-whumpee @whumpster-draganies @suspicious-whumping-egg

have a very merry @whumpmasinjuly everyone!! 💖💖💖

@whumpmasinjuly-archive

[spotsupstuff]

as i'm workin on my Ancient stuff- i've got to say that it is really interesting and neat (read: nasty) that there's a good chance most of the Ancient population probably didn't actually wear masks. but We think they did cuz the only really solid evidence of what they looked like at all all comes from places of the higher social circles. and those strived for religious... superiority, i guess. brownie points, not actual dedication to the religion for the sake of its teachings but either because it made them look good, put them higher in the social hierarchy or whatever manipulation have you (or the flawed look upon the religion aka "we gotta get out of this cycle no matter what")

all we are left with are the bastards. the simple people and their cultures that were left to weather the Iterators' rains were simply washed away. nobody cared for their way of life- as long as it served the higher circles well and they stayed submissive (enough so that at the end everyone would take a dip in the void), nobody had to give a singular shit

just how much do we not know about the Ancients' *everything* because of this disregard? how much do we think we are right about, when such is true only for the small but privileged piece of the species?

[pjisskullourful]

𝗗𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗹𝘆 𝗟𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴

📳 Thomas × reader

NSFW 🔥 smuttastic nastiness, the word dildo makes 9 appearances

° Thomas Raggi/female reader insert

wordcount::: 6,507

° this is the longest your boyfriend has been away on tour. theres missing him, but theres also missing how you feel when hes around [june 2024]

° commissioned by dat boi jace(@punk-gremlin) 💋 always freak being matched [commissions are back!! there is 1 in cue, secure your spot here]

° [ITA:] principessa: princess - eccellente: excellent - cucciolo: puppy

You had been waiting to hear from Thomas all day, and into the night. You had willed the hours to go by quicker so you could get to the point of the night where he was back at the hotel.

You needed your boyfriend to brighten up at least one part of your day. Because it felt like literally everyone was having a better day than you.

Of course Thomas the fucking rockstar was having a day so much more exciting than yours. That was typical, it wasn’t a surprise to envy the things he was doing.

But even your friends (who you would, non-derogatorily, refer to as regular people) were giving you reasons to be jealous. Looking on social media had left you feeling lower than usual. Your friends were having postcard-perfect summer days. 

Taking the Polaroid to the beach was a great idea, Angie had captioned the carousel of photos she had uploaded. They showed her and her boyfriend, bathed in the sun’s glow as they relaxed by the ocean. There were photos of them kissing and him showing off a sandcastle.

Elsewhere, Matt had been bragging about how his day had begun - the warmer weather allowing him to incorporate a swim into his ridiculously-early workout. Bria and her new girlfriend had worn cute sundresses to go get gelato. Other friends were posting about a double date at a seafood restaurant.

Everybody was making the most of the season, except for you. With your day free from work, you had been too tired to make plans. So you just stayed at home, moping about your boyfriend’s absence.

You wished that you had a day worthy of sharing. Instead you were feeling how much your jealousy could feed the insecure side of yourself, leading its voice to grow louder.

As you had thought about Thomas’ better day, you had populated it with the people he was likely to see. You thought about the other famous names that accompanied Måneskin in these festival line-ups. He had so much access to people with extraordinarily glamorous and fun lifestyles.

And where famous musicians went, gorgeous women rarely weren’t far behind. Whether they were part of an entourage or an enthusiastic interviewer, there was no chance of him not interacting with beautiful women. Women who looked like Victoria - but unlike his bandmate, they didn’t know or care about your existence as his girlfriend.

You knew that Thomas was loyal and dedicated to you - he had proven this repeatedly in the seven months of your relationship. You never doubted this when you were around him.

But the past month of distance had done something to your head. Your logic wasn’t as secure, it took an atypical amount of effort to access it. Negative thoughts were easier to find and get attached to. In the time that you had been a couple, he had never been gone for such a long time. And as much as you tried to avoid complaining about this unchangeable fact - it was definitely having an affect on you.

Things didn’t feel as simple and okay as they did when he was at home. You felt bothered that your relationship didn’t look like what other people had. Was this an insecurity you had ever had before? Either way, it was here and it was insistent.

An entire day of comparing yourself to other people (both known to you and not) had left you feeling decidedly grumpy.

You wanted Thomas as a distraction. But you also wanted the reaffirmation of your connection, you needed to feel it wholly, until you forgot about the physical distance.

The sound of his voice coming through your phone’s speaker was a huge relief. And this was different to getting a voice note or Snapchat from him during the day. This was guaranteed to not be over quickly. He wasn’t grabbing a five-minute break between rockstar duties.

Now that he was back at the hotel for the night, separated from any distractions or responsibilities, you were his priority. This helped to improve your mood (you weren’t back to feeling like your normal self straight away, but it was a good start).

The first order of business for this call was for each of you to say how much you were missing the other. It was practically a ritual at this point. None of these words were new, but their truth needed to be expressed.

Then he wanted to know how your day had been. He would tell you about his concert afterwards. He put touching base with you first. You liked the sense of importance this made you feel (why was it so hard to access this on your own?).

Like someone selecting only the best moments for a post on Instagram, you didn’t tell him about your bad mood. You didn’t talk about how your warped perceptions had cast a negative light on a lot of the day.

Instead you told him about all of the relaxing you had done. You had finally gotten the chance to begin reading a book purchased about two months ago..

Then you talked about some more of the things that you had unpacked. It had been six weeks since the two of you had moved into this apartment and all of the important things had been removed from boxes. But the office still stored about eight boxes, framed and sentimental things of his, books of yours that you weren’t sure there was shelf-space for.

And, as you had discovered today, a little cache of fidget devices. You told him about the multiple toys that you had found - two different coloured fidget cubes, a hand roller, a chew necklace and some magnetic fidget rings. All of these had been relocated to the living room.

Thomas was the first partner who had never complained or made comments about how strange your fidgeting was. Because he was a fidgeter as well.

On your first date you had explained any seemingly random clicking that he heard away as coming from the fidget cube resting in your lap. To your surprise, this hadn’t prompted confusion. He knew exactly what you were talking about, you hadn’t needed to demonstrate the object for him.

Instead he had excitedly taken out his car keys, showing you the toy that he took everywhere with him. Attached via keyring was a metal ring, covered in an uncountable amount of smaller rings, that could be spun endlessly.

That had put you at ease faster than typical on a first date. You had so easily come across a common ground. With your trademark flouting of societal norms, you had (at the dinner table) shared with him a joke about how the ultimate fidget toy was a pussy. He had laughed so hard that his face had turned bright red as he almost choked on the water he was swallowing, you didn’t regret the joke for a second.

When moving in together, you had determined that your individual collections could be merged. The best place was in front of the television, a dedicated tub to house all of the toys.

“You didn’t have to unpack any more boxes, principessa.” He told you, his voice taking on a gentle tone. “I wasn’t expecting you to. And I truly don’t mind if you want to wait ‘til I’m there to help.”

“It’s alright, I just did a little bit. I didn’t get overwhelmed, not at all.” You were pleased to tell him.

“That’s my girl, always making autism her bitch.” He said.

He loved to help you keep track of any and all victories. Especially when it came to you going back to things that had bested you in the past. He never minded slowing things down to help you find a new approach that would help you avoid getting overstimulated or overwhelmed.

“So they’re in the tub with the other fidgets. How many cubes are in there now?” He asked. “It’s gotta be a million.”

“Relax, it’s only nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-eight cubes.” You joked.

“Oh, what a perfectly reasonable amount.” He said with just a hint of sarcasm. “So, you put on a sexy dress and purple lipstick to unpack?”

You paused, caught off-guard by the change in subject. “Huh, what?”

Then it occurred to you what he was talking about, what was unexpectedly on his mind). He was referring back to the photos you had posted to Instagram earlier today.

What do you mean you don’t match your dress to the exact shade of your lipstick? You had captioned the four photos. You had bought the short, casual dress earlier this week. It wasn’t until you got it home that you had realised the colour of the material was almost identical to a shade of purple lipstick you owned.

Trying the new item on to check how it fit hadn’t been enough - you applied the lipstick as well.

You hadn’t had Thomas around to show off to. And in the mirror, you had seen some things worth showing off. You liked how the shade of purple complimented your skin-tone. You thought the cut of the dress had made your cleavage look great.

That feeling of confidence had been glorious, something that you had wanted to capture. While your mood had been one worth celebrating, you had taken photos of yourself.

This had been a substitute for what you truly wished you could do: bottle up the feeling. If only you could have it more often.

“No, those photos are from yesterday. I just didn’t get around to posting them ‘til this morning.” You explained to Thomas.

“Oh, that makes sense.” He said. “That dress looks really good on you. I told you that, right? Because if I haven’t, I can tell you right now. You’re so damn gorgeous and your body and- mmm, you make me so homesick.”

You smiled, probably your biggest of the day. His words could cut through the noisy bullshit in your mind.

He had left you a cute compliment under the photos. But in the privacy of your inbox, he had been less restrained about his feelings.

Those pics you just posted, he began, finishing his thought with a series of emojis. A follow-up message had quickly come through: Stop being so sexy when you aren’t close enough for me to touch. Some flirting had come after this, each of you sharing some ideas of how you would mark his homecoming.

Maybe it could have gone further. But he had to leave his phone behind while he did soundcheck.

Now you realised that talk was just a prelude to the conversation that you were having right now.

“You can keep telling me about it.” You said. You rolled onto your side, your eyes going to the framed photo of the two of you on the nightstand. He was smiling for the camera while you kissed him on the cheek, your hand rested on the low point of where he had started to button his white shirt. You wondered what he was currently wearing.

“You’re so sexy and I’m just still so obsessed with your body. You truly have no idea because I’m not smart enough to have all of the words to tell you about it.” He said.

“Thomas.” You lightly scolded him. “You’re very smart.”

His response began with a sarcastic laugh. “Not when I’m looking at you. There isn’t much blood going to my brain, if you know what I mean.”

You felt like you wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for a while and your heart was beating faster. “If I say that I don’t know what you mean, will you explain it to me?”

“I’m horny for you, principessa.” He declared and his sudden, impassioned raising of his voice made you giggle. And still he had more to say. “When I tell you that I’m obsessed with your body, it’s because I literally couldn’t stop thinking about you all day. After I saw those photos, they were the only thing I could think about. Even when I was on stage, every time that I shut my eyes the photos were there, reminding me how much I’m missing ‘cause I’m away from home.”

“Really?” You asked as you heard the whispers of your insecurities continuing. “You really thought about me and my photos that much?”

“Fuck yes I did.” He said. “Who else would I think about?”

As his enthusiasm got his voice louder, your lingering negative emotions saw you speaking softer. Your thoughts went to overly-friendly models and other blue-tick-verified hotties. But you kept that to yourself, you didn’t want this quality time with him to become about all the ways you lacked confidence.

“I dunno.” You said.

“I kept going back to this one thought: your legs, and picturing what they would look like wrapped around me.” He said. “And that was a very powerful image to have in my mind, it had some lasting effects on me.”

“Damn, Tommy…” You sighed, looking at the photo as you wished you could be looking into his eyes as he said these things.

“You believe me, don’t you?” He asked.

“Yes, course I do.” You said. Unfortunately you believed two things at once, still knowing that he could do better than you.

“Then how come you sound so…?” He trailed off and you imagined his hand gesturing through the air, completing the question this way.

Even though you couldn’t see him, you knew what he was getting at. “I dunno. Maybe I’m more tired than I realised.”

“Do you wanna go to sleep?” He asked.

“No, I wanna keep talking to you.” You asserted. “Been waiting all day for this.”

“Me too. I’ve been waiting all day to tell you about how amazing you are.” He said. “Do you know how crazy I am about you?”

“I’m crazy about you, too.” You said, hoping that putting your energy into showering him with compliments would give you the distraction that you needed. “It blows my mind that someone as incredible, beautiful, talented, funny as you could be mine, Thomas.”

“I am yours.” He said, how seriously he meant this could be heard in every syllable. “Are you mine?”

“Yes, every part of me.” You mentally added more to this sentence. …for better or worse.

“Good, ‘cause absolutely no one can make me feel like you do.” He said. “When I wanna jerk off, I do it to the stuff you put up on Instagram. I’ve never had this in a relationship before, but I literally can’t watch porn anymore.”

Your mouth opened, even though you didn’t have anything to say presently. His words were hitting you on a deeper level, arousing different reactions inside you.

“It isn’t as effective as you. It can’t work me up even half as much as you can.” He said. “And I would be embarrassed admitting that to anyone else, any other girls that I’ve dated. But I want you to know ‘cause I want- I wish that I could make you feel how much I want you, how much I love you.”

It had crept up on you. You hadn’t noticed yourself getting turned on. But now you could feel that burn. Upon acknowledging it, you didn’t think that you would be able to go back to ignoring this arousal.

“How would you make me feel it?” You asked.

“Oh, principessa…”

He was the first person who had ever used that specific nickname with you. And ever since the first use you had trusted that he meant it. He so sincerely treated you like royalty, like something so precious and so worthy of spoiling.

Sometimes he added the word my to your title. You liked that just as much, taking his desire to possess you as the compliment that it was.

“I talked about your legs in those pics, but do you know what else I’m staring at? Your tits. They fill up that dress so perfectly.” He said and over the faded material of your shirt, you ran your hand across the swell of one of your tits. “I miss how those gorgeous things feel in my hands.”

You guided your hand down this curve, with some more pressure this time. “I miss feeling your hands.”

“Are you touching them for me?” He asked. And it was an almost-physical switch from the earlier mood of this conversation.

But you could keep up with it. You rolled onto your back and pushed your hand under your shirt. “Yes, I am.”

He made a soft moaning noise. “I like that.”

You caressed all over your breasts, feeling how hot the skin already was as your heart got to racing again. You wanted to indulge more in this lust and you lightly dragged your nails across this supple flesh.

With a throaty sigh he said your name. “If I were there, I would have my lips all over those nipples. I bet they’re nice and hard for me.”

You squeezed your thighs together as you put your fingers to one of the firm nipples, it was surrounded by keenly pebbled skin. “You win that bet.”

“That’s good, that’s so, so, so good.” He cooed. “The way that I wanna be sucking on your nipples right now, it’s- well, it’s more of a need. I need to have your nipples in my mouth. Your perfect, pretty, princess nipples.”

“That would make me so wet.” You confessed, already aware of the extra heat currently inside of your underwear.

“Well, that’s what I want.” He said. “Do you wanna do something for me?”

“Of course.” You answered immediately (running on desires, like you currently were, eliminated most of your need to thoroughly think things through).

“Can you get your nipple clamps out? The ones that are shaped like tiny pegs, with the connecting chain.” He said and you had no issue with mentally locating exactly what he was talking about.

“Yeah, I can do that.” You said, sitting up.

You didn’t have to get off of the bed to gain access to the sex toys, you just leaned down to open the bottom drawer of the nightstand. You found the thin silver chain lying amongst the many other objects that populated this compartment. You picked it up, the crocodile-style clamps coming free.

“Make sure they aren’t set too tight before you put them on. I know you like it best when something hurts, but I want you to work up to that, okay?” He said.

You removed your shirt before you checked each clamp’s tiny screw pin. You made his requested change, unscrewing as far as the mechanism would allow.

“Okay.” You said as you laid flat on your back. You opened one of the clamps and lined its PVC-padded tips up to your left nipple. Gradually you relaxed your hold, until the prongs were gripping onto your firm nipple. You bit down on your bottom lip, somewhat muffling the sound you couldn’t help making as this sharp pinching sensation registered clearly at your core.

He heard it anyway. “Is that one, or both of them?”

Your hand trembled as you held the unattached clamp, starting to get it close to your other nipple. “One.”

“Be a good girl and clamp both of those nipples for me.” He said and you became aware of some quiet sounds on his end of the line, suggesting some activity. “While you’re doing that, I’m going to get out something to help me take care of myself. ‘Cause, like I said earlier, your new photos had lasting effects on me.”

Maybe if you weren’t experiencing such grand reactions to your own stimulant, you would have been able to guess which sex toy he was getting for himself. You knew exactly which devices he had packed into his suitcase. But there was absolutely no clarity in your thoughts currently.

You whimpered when your other nipple was treated to the squeeze of the clamp. You swallowed, trying to settle into this elevated state of reactivity.

“They’re both on now.” You said, unable to keep the shakiness out of your voice.

“Great work. You’re doing well for me.” He said.

The smile had returned to your face, with the adrenaline pumping the lust so quickly through your system, taking you over. You could only take in short and fast breaths, you keenly awaited what he decided would be next. You loved giving almost all of your control over to him.

“Imagining how you look right now… it’s got me, like, unbelievably hard.” He said and you could hear how his breathing was starting to get laboured.

You whimpered as enticing and obscene images made themselves prominent in your mind - the potential that had led to such sublime experiences in the past. Your whole body pulsed with need for those same heights.

“I wish I could be there to take care of you. You deserve it, you’ve been working so hard.” You said.

“I wish that I had you right here, too.” He said. “But that’s how I feel twenty-four-seven, anyways.”

The pressure on your nipples had you feeling so focused, you were intensely tuned into your body. And so those loud thoughts lost their prominence. You heard what he said and that was enough for you, a simple but powerful confirmation.

“Thomas, I love you.” You said, giving a voice to the most important thought in your head.

“I love you too.” His response was instant. “I want you to tighten those clamps for me. Just one twist for now, okay?”

Your eyes went down to the fixed pegs as you took in a shaky breath. The excitement made you squeeze your thighs tighter together.

During previous uses, the two of you had determined that it took five complete turns of the screws to get the clamps to their tightest hold. That was when their effects couldn’t possibly be ignored, an extraordinarily amount of blood flying into the area. That was the kind of intensity that made your cunt drip.

You put your fingers to the left screw. “One twist.” You were careful in how you turned the screw, making sure you didn’t go too far.

“Good girl.” He said as you felt your heart pounding faster. “I love how obedient you can be. You’re just so, so, so good for me.”

Once both screws were tightened, you released a breath you hadn’t noticed yourself holding. Your body was dominated by tingles, all of the potential dazzling you.

“Are you touching yourself for me?” You asked.

“Just a little.” He said. “I’ve got the lube and my fleshlight here, but I haven’t started with those yet. I’m just teasing myself over my underwear…” You rubbed your thighs together, imagining the sight. “A little tease because I don’t wanna rush any of this. I wanna take my time and make it last, I’ve gotta really enjoy this moment with my princess.”

You smiled, savouring the way his voice sounded breathier now. It was one of those subtle changes that only you got to have in your ear.

“Do you want me to get a toy, too?” You asked.

“That sounds good. And I get to pick?” He asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

The two of you didn’t keep to a strict dynamic, not staying in firm characters, preferring to play around when it came to stuff like that. Sometimes you liked to indulge your more submissive side, trusting how he would handle you in these situations. Turning your brain off and giving all control over to him could be everything that you needed, liberating you beyond your wildest dreams. He was incredibly sexy in the moments where he was bossy - their rarity making you treasure them all the more.

“Let’s have the same amount of toys. I want you to get a dildo, I don’t care which one you pick.” He said.

You were smiling as you went back to the bottom draw. You could hear his breathing still coming through the phone, keeping you company, almost like he was looking over your shoulder.

You picked up a teal dildo, one that you knew was close to the same length as your boyfriend.

“I got one.” You said, lying down and getting comfortable.

“Eccellente.” He said. “I’m gonna tell you when and how I want you to use it, okay?”

“You’re gonna tease me, aren’t you?” You asked.

“Hey, don’t pout like you don’t enjoy it when there’s a big build-up. Now, give those clamps one more twist, I want my princess to be really feeling it.” He said.

You laid the dildo at your side, returning your fingers to the screws, one at a time. Your gut clenched and a promising warmth enveloped your entire body. You greeted this slight increase with a whimper, giving him a glimpse of what you were feeling. With this being the current focal point, it made the squeezing effect seem all the more significant.

“Fuck.” He hissed, it felt like an extra reward. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

You gave your hips a little wiggle, just wishing that you could do more. “Yeah, all that rock ‘n’ roll isn’t allowed to make you deaf, ‘cause I have so many more noises to make for you.”

“Lucky me.” He said.

“Well fuck, I’ve made a damn good mess of my underwear now.” You said, the damp material against your skin was getting harder to ignore.

“You’re still wearing panties?” He asked.

“Yeah. Oops.”

“Well you have to take them off, right now.” He said, it was an action you were already completing. “I can’t believe you still had them on.”

“It slipped my mind. I’m not used to taking them off myself, usually there’s this horny guy that does it for me.” You teased.

“This horny guy is gonna start lubing up his fleshlight.” He said. “Maybe you could introduce that dildo to your wet pussy.” You picked the toy up, not needing any further incentive. “Not inside yet…”

You steadied yourself. “Gotta do the teasing, I know.”

“It’s gonna feel so good, you know it will.” He said.

You parted your thighs and moved the toy down, sliding its smooth side against your labia majora. Briefly, you missed the feeling of heat from his dick.

But then you angled the toy so that its tip could move between your folds, pressing harder with it until you stopped thinking about what you missed. The more pressure that you applied with the up-down motion, made your thoughts float away. Their significance dwindled as you got invested in this feeling of your cunt finally getting attention.

You panted heavier than before when you guided the silicone tip to your clitoris. The keen nerve-endings responded with such an enticing zing that you couldn’t get yourself to move the dildo away at once. Your chest swelled, making you notice the clamps more. It was a tantalising cocktail that fed right to your core.

“Good girl.” He moaned, only adding to your great sense of need. “You’re such a good girl, get yourself feeling so amazing for me.”

You didn’t say anything back, just letting him hear your shaky inhales and heavy exhales. At the same time you were hearing a new noise from the speaker of your phone. It wasn’t entirely new to you, its wet quality immediately unlocking memories (very pleasing memories to reflect on). His dick was getting slick with lubricant.

As you imagined how the light was catching on his member, you pushed your toy down. Passing it between your labia minora, you let more of the length get lubricated by you.

“I’m gonna use a decent amount of lube, so that you can hear what I’m doing, hear my strokes. ‘Cause I want you to match me.” He said, his voice husky over more noises of the lubricant being applied. “I want us to fuck at the same speed.”

Even though he couldn’t see it, you were nodding your head, your toes starting to curl in anticipation. “Mm-hmm.”

“It doesn’t have to be exact, I’m not gonna be a perfectionist about it. But just try to copy what you hear, and then it will be close… it’s gonna be more like when we’re actually having sex.”

“Mm-hmm, yeah, I wanna do it like that, Tommy.” You said, feeling how hard and fast your heartbeat was coming in.

“That’s my good girl, my perfect princess.” He said. “Start teasing the tip in. Don’t go further than that. Yes, I’m still teasing you.” You gave a whimper in response, beginning to move the dildo as instructed. “Just get the tip in…” You heard his quick inhale. “That’s what I’m doing…”

You maintained your control over the toy as you felt the new pressure of your lips being eased apart. It could have slipped in absolutely effortlessly, but you only took about an inch in.

“You might need to put your phone down now. ‘Cause I want you to tighten those clamps one more.” He said and you took it away from your ear, considering the illuminated screen as another word from him came through. “One.”

You used your thumb to hit the button that would switch it to speaker-phone mode, then you set the device down on the pillow next to your head. “Okay.”

To the sounds of his slicked cock continuing to be worked by his toy, you gave each of the screws another turn. The increased pinch raised the stakes for you, the feeling registering through most of your sensitive body. Especially in your cunt, your walls clenching around nothing, while craving so much.

“Okay.” You said, noticing how you couldn’t stop paying attention to your nipples. Now you could feel your pulse in them, the attentive peaks positively throbbing in every second, the sensation in the forefront of your mind.

“Good girl.” He told you. “But don’t let them get painful. ‘Cause I’m not there to kiss your nipples better if they get hurt.”

“I know.” You said.

“You don’t know it like I do.” He said.

You furrowed your brow. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I think about your nipples and how incredibly far from my mouth they are way more than you’re thinking about it.” He explained.

“Yep, you’re definitely winning that competition.” You said.

“Should we go deeper?” He asked.

You reaffirmed your hold on the toy’s base. “Mm-hmm, I’m ready for it.”

“Okay, take that cock deeper for me.” He said.

You didn’t rush the length between your walls. You knew that you had enough time to ease it in, letting the tip gradually reach deeper, spreading you open in the process. Instantly your cunt clung to it, all of your anticipation ready to spill over.

The wet noises consistently coming from his end of the call allowed you a very clear mental picture of what he was doing. The immersive images kept you smiling, the butterflies in your stomach multiplying.

“I can hear you.” You told him.

His response began with a moan. “Yeah, you like how that sounds?��

“Fuck yeah.” You said, your eyes shut as you started to identify something of a rhythm to his erotic noises. You noticed the slight pauses, which separated one motion from another. You were certain that the fleshlight was being stroked up-and-down his member.

His voice was even more restrained when you heard it next and you imagined his chest puffed out as more composure was sacrificed.

“It feels better than it sounds.”

“I wish I could feel it.” You said, his noises were so familiar and so close to being real for you.

You attempted to recreate the rhythm that you heard through the phone’s speaker. You withdrew the dildo, the tip travelling almost to your entrance. You waited for his quick pause to finish, plunging your toy all the way in when you heard his next wet stroke.

“I wish you were feelin’ it, too. I wish I could be fucking you, fucking that masterpiece of a body.” He said through other strangled noises - all of these hints of his lust were a feast for you.

“Fuck that toy like it is me.” You requested.

When you heard his pauses diminishing because he was picking up the pace of his strokes, you were quick to copy him. You thrusted the toy faster, feeling your inner-walls grow more sensitive in response to this more insistent treatment.

Everything was falling into place for you, this tempo serving the deep need burning inside. You could get addicted to this perfect cycle of your body’s every response granting you another reward.

You knew which moves to make, there wasn’t any thinking currently required of you. You raised your knees as you spread your thighs further apart. At the same time as you were planting the soles of your feet on the mattress, you tilted your pelvis, providing your toy with a whole new angle. You kept copying his tempo, his breathless whispering of your name floating out of the speaker.

“Mm, oh guh-...” You murmured as you started to move your hips to this rhythm.

You lifted your ass from the bed so you could swing yourself up, getting closer to the hand controlling your toy. Your other hand grabbed up some of the bedsheets as you gave more to this effort, which was rewarding you superbly. You felt the impacts of the dildo more, the way that it glided so deep into you felt better-and-better, a perfect escalation taking you to the threshold of how much you could take.

Before the bliss could make you float too far away, he spoke. He said your name with some more firmness in his tone, which made you pay immediate attention even amongst the intoxicating rush that dominated your body.

“How about twisting those clamps once more?” He asked, making your heart leap into your throat with the realisation that he was getting you to the second highest intensity that this device had to offer. “Could you do that for me, principessa?”

“Yes.” You couldn’t get your voice above a whisper.

This forced you to still your hips as your focus relocated. You pushed the dildo more than halfway in, hoping your cunt would hold it in place for you.

There were tremors in your fingers until they reached the tiny screws. You looked down, watching what you did as you felt the sensation get more intense in your right nipple, then the left. You gritted your teeth as the tension set on the edge of crippling you.

“Holy fuh…” You panted as you lethargically got to working the toy dick inside of you again. “That feels really amazing. I-I think you’re getting me close.”

“That’s perfect, that’s so perfect.” He said.

“You always make me feel so good. You’re incredible.”

“No, you’re incredible.” He said and you were back to matching the promising rhythm that you heard from his end of the line. “I’m lucky to be able to give you pleasure.”

You writhed desperately through his pacing. “So, so, so much pleasure.”

“I want you to come first. You don’t have to wait for me, okay? All I want is for you to enjoy it as soon as you feel it.” He said.

Your hips stuttered, your movements beginning to get reckless as you let your greed take over. “Thomas, oh God, oh my fuh-... ah…” You got the tip to collide with your g-spot, feeling an unfathomable surge of pleasure. “Fuck, that’s it. Oh, that’s fuckin’ it.” You pounded the toy into this winning spot at a merciless rhythm. “Yes, yes, it- oh, oh…”

“Good girl.” His words accompanied you as you lost yourself on that crazy edge. “Let me hear you.”

You spasmed as all of that tension snapped inside of you. You noisily gasped for air as your back arched one last time. You rode out the high to the noises of the fleshlight still in motion.

“Fuck, ah.” He whined and it sounded like he was getting quicker.

You choked back a sob as you took the toy out of your cunt. You all but collapsed onto the bed, basking in all of the endorphins. You removed the clamps from your extremely sensitive nipples. Your mouth hung open as you started to float away.

“Ah, ah, uh-huh…” He was murmuring as the wet sounds continued. You smiled as you imagined his body jerking, losing all control and putting on the best show for you. “Yea-ah, yes!”

The noises of that slippery fleshlight being used suddenly halted. Then the only thing that you could hear was his heavy breathing - it was practically harmonising with you.

You took the call off of speaker and returned the phone to your ear. With your eyes shut, the distance could almost be forgotten. As you experienced the wonderful after effects of your orgasm, you knew that he was feeling the same things. And he was feeling them as a direct result of thinking about you too much.

As you paid attention to where you were still feeling the tingles in your body, you made a mental note to be wearing the new purple dress when he got home at the end of this run of festival gigs.

Eventually he recovered enough to speak. “I’m yours. I am so fuckin’ yours, I love you.”

“I love you too, cucciolo. I can’t wait for when I get to say that to your face again.” You said.

He yawned before talking. “And my face will be very grateful to get that.”

“I feel sort of rude for not asking you how your gig was yet. But we just got into that faster than I was expecting.” You said.

“Because of your fuckin’ photos.” He said. “You can ask me about my day now.”

“Don’t you want to sleep?” You asked. You had witnessed more than once how tired and lethargic he could get after using all of his energy for an orgasm.

“No, I’m talkin’ to you. I’ll go to sleep when I run out of things to say to you.” He said and you heard him barely muffle another yawn.

“Thomas…”

“You would have hated the pants they put me in for the show tonight.” He said.

And you let him change the subject. “The silver ones? I was going to tell you how cool they looked.”

“Yeah, they looked cool. But they were made out of this weird material, I don’t know what it was, I didn’t ask. And whenever it rubbed together, like when my thighs touched as I was walking, it would make this awful sound. Like when you get up from a leather couch.” He said and you grit your teeth, cringing as you imagined it. “It would drive you nuts, I know it would.”

“Okay, so here we have another example of why you should always be naked when in my presence.” You said.

»»————-　♡　————-««  

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[hearts4youz]

The Captain's Daughter Chapter 17

A/N: I've actually had the motivation to write lately!? plus I haven't been so busy, so that's probably a factor... As always, thank you guys soooo sooo much for reading! :)

Word count: 1k

Taglist: @abbiesxox @n30n-j3lly @weird-katthing @kayoyamamegame @kroowonderemporium @astro-ghoul99

Reader pov:

In the weeks that followed, the weather was starting to look more like that of the holiday season. It was late December now, Christmas had recently passed and all of the soldiers were excited to ring in the new year. All except for Ghost, who earned himself the nickname "Grinch" during this time of year. You were becoming increasingly worried about him, he stayed in his quarters all day, only coming out for mealtimes and training. Originally, you had decided to leave him alone, thinking he would become more social again after the Christmas festivities had ended and everyone who had gone on leave had come back. But the decorations were coming down and people were returning well fed and rested, Simon was still nowhere to be seen.

"Give 'em time, he's like this every year," Soap tried to reassure you.

"But why? Do the holidays upset him," You ask.

"Somthin' like that, I guess," Soap shrugged.

"I wouldn't try talkin to him though, he gets awful nasty this time of year," he continues.

You thank Soap for the information but ignore his advice to avoid the Lieutenant. You planned to get him out of his slump. You made your way over to the barracks and found the room assigned to Simon. Your heart thumped in your chest as you gave the door a hearty knock. Footsteps thudded across the tile floor as the occupant of the room got closer to the door. You drew in a breath when the door creaked open.

Simon stood in the door frame, a tired and faraway look in his eyes as he looked down at you.

"Sergeant?" He addressed you by your title.

You took in his appearance, his shoulders drooped. His eyebrows were furrowed, which was one of his only exposed facial features. He looked like he was struggling, hurting even, despite his ever rigid appearance.

"Sir..." you kept the formalities, not wanting to upset him or make him uncomfortable while in this state. "I noticed you haven't been around much lately... I just wanted to check up on you, this time of year is hard for a lot of us."

Ghost pov:

If that was anyone else I would have slammed the door in their face.

But it was Y/N.

I stayed in the doorway, not knowing what to say to her.

She looked up at me with her lovely eyes, "May I come in?"

"Uh... yeah, sure"

Why am I letting her in

I become very aware of the state of my living space as I step aside to let her in. It's messy to say the least. I pick up some of the clothes that are strewn about on the floor and toss them into a corner.

"Sorry, haven't got around to cleaning up in here in a minute."

She looks around as the disorder of the room. "Ghost, you mean to tell me you've been locked up in here for over a week and haven't had time to clean. You hardly leave this place," she says questioningly.

"I've got a lot on my plate right now," I mumble.

Her eyes soften as she looks at me. "Simon, why don't you just tell me what's on your mind."

"It's nothing, Y/N... nothing for you to worry about." I try my best to remain dismissive and closed off from her, but the way she looks at me with that soft gaze just makes me want to pour my heart out to her.

"Simon..." her use of my real name makes me tense up. "You're my Lieutenant, Your always there to help me... in your own, strict and commanding way. You took me in as a transfer and made me stronger, a better soldier. It's my turn to return the favor, something tells me that you don't have someone you can go to for times like this, let me be that person for you."

My heart melts at her kind words.

She really wants to help me.

"I'm just... not big on the holidays you know," I hope that this explanation will suffice, but Y/N just stands there, waiting for me to say something else. I begin to feel awkward, so I fill the silence again. "Everyone's just so... happy... and disorderly... this place doesn't feel like a military base during this time of year."

"I see that, what makes you think of this as a bad thing?"

She's starting to sound like a therapist, and its getting on my nerves. I continue to answer her questions, just to make her happy so she'll stay longer.

"I just... I don't understand it. Why is everyone so happy just because of a holiday?"

She purses her lips, thinking of an answer.

"Well, I guess the festivities here remind them of home... what do you like about being home for the holidays?"

"I don't," I snort.

"Oh, Simon... I'm so sorry"

I do something that I haven't done in awhile, something charged by watching everyone's stupid traditions and being wished "Merry Christmas" by far too many people.

"If your so sorry, then why don't you leave!" I yell at her, not caring who could hear me through the thick walls. Whoever had the room next to mine was probably out partying or on duty anyway.

Her eyes fill with hurt, but I feel no regret. She inches towards the door, her sad eyes still on me.

"And who told you that you could call me Simon!? its LIEUTENANT, or GHOST." I can feel my face getting hot with rage, I must look so menacing to Y/N right now, but i'm too pissed to care.

She makes her way towards the door, her fingers grazing the handle. She looks back at me once more, her teary eyes getting red. I say nothing as she steps into the hall leaving me alone again. The room is filled with silence. I stare at the doorway where Y/N once stood. I bit my lip, part of me wished she was still here, that I allowed her to help me.

I hate the holidays, because the joy of being surrounded by a happy family is something that I'll never have.

[echos-gal]

Point and Shoot

Crosshair x f!reader (Rotating POV)

Summary: Crosshair is new to Pabu and is struggling to adjust. He is smitten when he meets you, the local garden shop owner. Mutual shyness, is-this-a-date-or-not mishaps, and finally opening up.

Rating: SFW. Pure fluff. Some self-hate, mentions of regret. First kiss.

A/N: This is my first fic ever, pls be nice ;u; I honestly might make this more of a slow-burn series eventually, but for now... enjoy!

-----

The first time Crosshair saw you was at Pabu's summer solstice festival. His brothers had dragged him along, hoping that he would finally start socializing with the other islanders. He was still overcome with guilt, anger, and grief from his time with the Empire - trusting others did not come easy to him. And who would want to associate with damaged goods? If the nasty burn scar on the side of his head wasn't enough, he was convinced his past would surely scare anyone away.

But as Crosshair and his brothers walked through the crowd, something caught his eye.

As Pabu's floral expert, you had a small table set up with cuttings of various blooms, helping children make flower crowns and necklaces. The sun shined on your cheeks as you smiled. You looked up just in time to catch him staring, eyes sparkling as you waved at him shyly.

Crosshair did not return the wave. In fact, he was too embarrassed to acknowledge that he had been caught admiring you. You were easily the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

Realizing that he'd stopped in his tracks, he quickly turned away to catch up with his brothers.

"HA! Yeah, we saw you staring," Wrecker exclaimed, beaming. "Don't blame ya." He winked, causing Crosshair to scowl.

"I don't know what you're talking about." replied Crosshair.

Hunter, always the diplomat, attempted to calm the situation by explaining that you were a gardener who provided the islanders with flowers for nearly every occasion. You had started up a small garden center after moving to Pabu as a refugee. Crosshair committed your name to memory, repeating it over and over in his head as the solstice sun set.

-----

Ding-ding!

You straightened up, wiping the dirt off your hands onto your apron. Why do customers always stop by when you're in the middle of repotting plants?

"Welcome! How can I - oh, hello Tech!" you exclaimed with a smile, realizing who your visitor was. Tech shared your love of rare floral varieties, and often stopped by to discuss your shop's latest botanical acquisitions. He'd purchased a couple bouquets recently as well, which you'd later seen lovingly displayed at your friend Phee's house.

"Anything I can do for you today? Or are you just here to browse?"

"Well, er, I was wondering if you might have, uh, any potted angiosperms native to the planet Medita." Tech replied nervously.

"Phee's home planet?" you asked, grinning. You turned around to take a look at your inventory list as your friend rambled excuses and stuttered about the weather.

"Well, I've got a couple diff-" You froze. Turning back towards Tech, you'd noticed someone lurking in the shop's doorway.

"Ah, yes. I neglected to mention - that is my brother Crosshair. He is a recent arrival to Pabu. Crosshair is not one for extensive conversation. However, he did surprise me by requesting to join in this errand." said Tech.

"Oh." You quickly glanced again at the doorway, not wanting to scare his brother away. Maybe he was just shy. "Well, anyways. I do have a few pots of native Medita flowers if you'd like to have a look."

You showed Tech a shelf full of brightly colored blooms, each one different from the next. He was intrigued, commenting on every plant and taking out his data pad for reference.

"And this would be the Coastal Indigo Coneflower- the variegated variety - correct?" asked Tech, skimming his fingers over the blue flowers' multicolored foliage.

"That's right. It only grows on Medita's eastern hemisphere, in the right soil conditions." you replied.

"Fascinating..." said Tech, adjusting his goggles and leaning in closer for inspection. He was distracted for the time being, and you couldn't help but peer over his shoulder at his less talkative brother.

Crosshair still hadn't fully entered the shop. The tall, slim man stood awkwardly in the doorway, making an obvious effort to look everywhere but towards you. You recognized him from the solstice festival, although you doubted he remembered you. Tan-skinned and brown-eyed like his brothers, but with an entirely different demeanor. Reserved, scowling slightly. You could just barely see the thin lines of a tattoo inked over his right eye and eyebrow. He had short grey hair that stopped at the right side of his head, revealing a large patch of scarred skin above his ear.

'Maker,' you thought to yourself, 'he's gorgeous.' You hoped the heat in your face wasn't visible.

"I will take this one." said Tech suddenly, snapping you out of your daze. You headed to the counter and rung up the beautiful potted plant he'd selected, crossing it off your inventory list.

"She'll love it," you said quietly as he turned to leave.

He smiled sheepishly. "I do hope so."

You waved goodbye as he rejoined his brother at the door. As you locked eyes with Crosshair, your grin widened, and you could swear you could see the ghost of a smile on his lips.

-----

He was an idiot, thought Crosshair. You were so gorgeous and he was a damn fool.

"I do not understand why you refused to enter the garden center," said Tech. "Are you allergic to the pollen? I was under the impression that Hunter was the only one who suffered from a histamine reaction due to his heightened senses triggering an immune response..."

Crosshair ignored his brother's rambling, thinking about how you'd smiled at him moments ago. The whole reason he'd gone with Tech was to see you again. Ever since your brief encounter at last week's solstice festival, Crosshair couldn't keep you out of his head. But doubt and nerves overcame him, preventing him from sweeping you off your feet as he had in his dreams. All he could do was stand in the doorway and pretend not to care.

Your warm smile, however, melted something close to his heart.

-----

"Crosshair! All you need to do is ask her on a date! I'm sure she'll say yes! Maybe a cafe? A walk on the beach? Ooh, I know. You can take her shooting!"

Omega was the only one Crosshair spoke with openly about his growing crush on you. He knew she wouldn't tease him like his brothers might. And she seemed to be full of enthusiasm about the possibility of Crosshair having a girlfriend.

"Can't. Pabu's not exactly the place for blasters." said Crosshair wearily.

"No, no. Not with your rifle. With your camera!" Omega exclaimed.

Ugh. She wouldn't let this go, would she? Crosshair, itching to point and shoot as he'd always done, had picked up photography in an effort to do something productive with his enhanced eyesight. The use of a scope, the mechanics of holocameras, and the feeling of aiming at something felt familiar to him. The fact that his shots wouldn't kill was an unexpectedly nice change of pace. Island life was starting to feel more natural.

"Maybe." he replied.

"YES." said Omega defiantly, ignoring her brother's hesitance. "I've seen your photos. They're great. I'm sure she'd love to see them - and you've taken tons of nature pictures. Show her your flower collection!"

"It's not that impressive."

"Tech said your shots were better than most of the references on the holoweb. And that you could make a lot of credits if you printed and sold them."

"I just do it to keep myself busy."

Omega crossed her arms. "Look, all you need to do is ask if you can photograph her garden. She's got tons of rare flowers. Ask her about them! Strike up a conversation!"

"You know I'm not good at that." said Crosshair.

"Then let your camera do the talking!"

Crosshair considered his options. Omega was right (as she usually was) - this was a great excuse to get to know you. If you didn't seem interested in him, he could easily play it off as just wanting to photograph rare flowers. If you did seem interested, he could ask you to accompany him to his usual nature photography sites around the island. They were all dateworthy, but the waterfall on the far side of the island was like nothing else. He made up his mind.

"Fine," he groaned, "Tomorrow."

-----

You knelt down over a tray of tiny seedlings, misting them with the hose nozzle's finest setting. Too much water pressure and they would be flattened. Soon they'd be ready for transplanting into their own individual containers.

Ding ding!

"Welcome! How can I help you?" you said as you got up, realizing that your visitor was none other than Crosshair. You silently wished that you weren't covered in dirt at the moment.

"Er- I, uh, I'm Tech's brother. From yesterday. I was wondering if I could take pictures of your plants," he said. He seemed nervous.

"Oh! Crosshair, right? Omega mentioned your nature photography last time she was here with Echo." He looked startled. "She said you're fantastic," you added with a smile.

"It's just a hobby to keep me occupied." said Crosshair, avoiding your eyes and fidgeting with the lens cap of the camera slung around his neck.

"Well, by all means take some photos! I've got some bulbs from Naboo that are just starting to bloom, and some climbing vines in the back trellis-" you paused, noticing his eyes wander towards the sprouts you'd been misting.

You led him over to the tray on the ground. "These aren't super impressive yet. Desert Aster shoots," you explained, gesturing towards one of the small green plants. "I've just watered them."

"Hm." grunted Crosshair, turning on his camera and pointing it towards the tray. He was completely still for several seconds, staring into the camera's viewfinder and barely breathing. You held your breath too. He seemed like a pro at this.

Click!

He straightened up, studying the camera's display screen. Then he turned it towards you, again avoiding your eyes.

The screen before you showed tiny shimmering water droplets atop the asters' minuscule leaves. The vibrant green plants stood out against the moisture-darkened soil. He had even caught a sunbeam, lightening part of the photo with translucent gold.

"That's incredible," you exclaimed in awe, smiling at him. You thought his ears looked slightly pinker than usual. "I didn't know aster shoots could be so beautiful. Do you only shoot shoots?"

Crosshair's mouth formed a faint grin at your joke. "No, I shoot other things. Animals, waterfalls." 'Droids, people.' he thought bitterly, another kind of shooting coming to mind. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. He was a different person now. He was trying.

There was a stretch of silence as he fumbled with the lens cap again. You brushed some dirt off your apron, hoping it would mask your sudden shyness. You were sitting so close. Crosshair cleared his throat.

"Would you want to... come with me? Next time I'm out?" he asked quietly. He seemed very determined to affix his lens cap in exactly the right position, looking downwards at his hands.

Your breath caught in your throat. Was he asking you out? Could this be a date? Surely, he's too handsome not to be taken already... right?

"Yes! Yes. I- um, I'm off at six. Unless you wanted a later date. DAY. A later day," you rambled.

"Six is good." he said shortly. He got up and walked towards the door. "I'll be back then." And with that, he left.

-----

Crosshair showed up outside the garden center just as you were locking up. You waved eagerly at him. He held a hand up in greeting. 'I cannot screw this up,' he thought, taking in your beautiful features.

"So, where to?" you asked. The sun was just getting ready to set, and you knew that anywhere on the island would soon look brilliant.

"The west side. There's a trail next to the park. It's not far." said Crosshair. "There's people." he added quickly, realizing that taking a girl on a remote first date seemed sketchy. Had he even made it clear that this was a date? Did she even want this to be a date?

"Oh, I know. The park is always full of families at this time of day," you said with a chuckle. "Lead the way!"

Together, you walked the short distance to the park. As usual, parents and children populated the field and benches, laughing and playing. He stopped at the trailhead, where you could hear a bubbling stream.

"Here," he said, gesturing towards the stream's direction. "You've been here before, right?"

"I have. I sometimes walk here on weekends," you said, running your hand along some leaves from a drooping tree branch. An elderly couple exited the trail, hobbling along slowly while holding each others' hands. You wished so badly to be holding Crosshair's.

-----

The two of you entered the trail and walked along the water. You said hello to each passerby, cheerfully waving as they strode along. Crosshair seemed to shy away from the others, ducking his head or purposely looking towards the stream. You wondered if he'd made any new friends since coming to Pabu. He felt like he belonged here, didn't he?

Crosshair slowed down and pointed towards the stream's opposite bank. There, pouring over a ledge a few feet up, was a glistening waterfall. You'd passed it before while walking this trail, but never took the time to stop and really observe it. It disappeared and reappeared in a few rocky locations above where it splashed into the stream, creating multiple tiny falls. The setting sun cast a gentle light on the curve of the water as it bent around the rocky ledges.

You noticed Crosshair get his camera out and lower himself onto his stomach, resting while propped up on his elbows. You did the same, daring to come shoulder-to-shoulder with him. As he adjusted his camera to photograph the falls, you took in his profile. His nose was long and straight, a few freckles here and there. His eyelashes were longer than you'd initially thought, and despite the grey hair, his eyebrows were dark. As he squinted into the eyepiece, you noted how his tattoo scrunched up.

Click!

He looked at the camera screen. Not bad. Satisfied with the shot, he turned towards you, only to find you staring at him intently. Crosshair was suddenly self-conscious. You'd settled on his right side, with a clear view of his burn. A constant reminder, every time he looked into the mirror, that he'd once tried to kill the very siblings that brought him here. A permanent relic of his misdeeds. An ugly sign of an ugly past.

"I know." he said angrily, shifting his shoulder away from yours.

"Know what?" you asked. Had you upset him?

"I know it's disgusting. The scar." he grumbled. His face was now facing forward again, contorted in anger, and... shame?

"No, no, no. Oh, Crosshair, that's not why I was looking at you," you said, daring to reach out and touch his opposite cheek, turning him back to look at you. He yanked his face back.

"Then why? Didn't my brothers tell you about me? How I used to work with the Empire? All the terrible things I've done?" he asked, voice faintly shaky. He ran his fingers along the bumpy scar tissue.

"Yes. They did," you said, gently removing his hand from the scar. "They told me about how you changed. You're here because you turned against the Empire. Even when you were a prisoner, you risked your life to warn them. I don't know all the details, but I can tell you're a good person, Crosshair."

He looked at you, finally making eye contact. His eyes were wide, a deep and beautiful brown. The anger in his face turned to surprise, as though he hadn't expected your kindness. Crosshair's hand, now held by your own, reached up and settled into your hair. He leaned closer, his eyes on your mouth. You closed the distance.

His lips were soft against yours, his kiss hesitant and sweet. You placed your hand on the side of his face, slowly running your thumb along his cheekbone. You separated, barely touching, breath on each other's lips, before coming together again. He kissed you like you were made of glass, afraid you'd shatter beneath him. You breathed a quiet sigh and deepened the kiss. You felt his tongue on your lower lip.

You shifted yourself onto your back, feeling the cushion of the grass beneath you. You reached your hands up gently onto his shoulders as he leaned down, quickly putting his camera aside. He didn't hesitate. Crosshair smashed his lips to yours, and you to his. You smiled into the kiss and felt him do the same. The two of you parted, panting lightly, noses touching.

The moment was short-lived, however, as you heard kids running along the trail. You pried yourselves apart, hoping you weren't spotted. You realized that it was getting late - it would be dark soon. You looked shyly at him. He had no problem looking you in the eye now, a gentle expression on his face. He wasn't scowling like he usually was.

"I do really like you, Crosshair. And I meant what I said. You're a good person." you said softly.

"Hm. I think I like you, too." he replied, the corner of his mouth turned into a lopsided smile. "We should probably get going. It's getting dark."

-----

You walked back along the stream, brushing your fingers against his. He took the hint, locking your hands together. You exited the trailhead hand-in-hand as the elderly couple had, your previous wish fulfilled. How had you been so lucky, to find someone like him?

He walked you back to your house, only a short distance from the garden center. Along the way, you both stopped to admire the setting sun. Crosshair snapped a few photos of the gorgeous landscape - and of you, when you were busy admiring the sky. How had he been so lucky, to find someone like you?

As you came to your house, you slowed. "Crosshair," you said, "I never told you why I was looking at you. Earlier, by the stream."

"Hm?" prompted Crosshair, raising his eyebrows.

"It's because I couldn't believe I was with you. I've liked you since I first saw you at the solstice festival. You're beautiful- on the inside, too."

Crosshair had never been called beautiful before. Beauty was for the landscapes he photographed, and the flowers you grew. For sunsets and for you. He was a former soldier, now broken and burned. He'd been tossed aside by the very people who made him. Withdrawn and troubled and... beautiful. Maybe if you thought so, it could be true.

"If you say so."

He leaned forward and kissed you again, both hands tenderly cupping your face. You smiled up at him.

"Hey, you never showed me your waterfall picture!" you exclaimed, gripping his wrists still on either side of your face. "You have to show me tomorrow. Or another day. Whenever you're free again."

"Tomorrow." He kissed your forehead. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Crosshair," you said, slipping into your house and closing the door gently, with one look back over your shoulder.

Crosshair walked back to the small house he shared with his brothers and sister. No doubt he'd be grilled by them on how his date went - Omega had surely told everyone. He sighed, and his mind wandered back to you. Maybe he was a good person. If you of all people saw something in him, that was enough.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Rafe Cameron x tutor!reader? I know it’s been done a lot but it’s a really fun idea.

This is possibly one of my favorite tropes in this fandom.

Of course a storm had to hit the minute I wanted to leave after my meeting with Wheezie.

We finished up her math and her history homework in a few hours, Ward paid me and I had all of my stuff ready to go when I heard the booming of thunder over the estate. Rose had mentioned when I got there that there was some nasty weather coming towards us but I definitely was not expecting a tropical storm that's forcing everyone to stay in their homes till it passes- which, of course, would be tomorrow.

It's not the worst placed to be holed up, not in the least. They had plenty of food, plenty of guest bedrooms, Sarah and Wheezie and I already spend so much time together so it wasn't odd. But I'd never been forced to spend so much time under the same roof as Rafe.

I have no personal issues with him, I've just heard things throughout the different pogues that I hang out with, including Sarah's boyfriend who's had a thing against Rafe since they were in primary school- the last time they were in the same social bracket.

He's just the older, best friends brother, who'd go out of his way to mess with me if given the chance- whether than be at parties, during my meetings with Wheezie, or if he happens to be at the beach the same time I'm there, basking in the sun. He's an instigator, he loves the attention and he almost demands it whenever he walks in the room just by the stupid cocky look on his handsome face.

I practically jump out of my skin as the house shakes, rain pounding against the window of the guest room that I've forced myself into after gladly changing into a change of clothes that Sarah had graciously offered me.

"You okay?" My head snaps to the open door where Rafe stands, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. I give him a simple nod before looking back out the window, watching my bike fall over in their driveway with a sigh.

"That was my bike you heard hitting the ground." I huff, biting at the skin around my nails as I tuck my legs under me, heart pounding as I feel the weight of Rafe's gaze.

"I can give you a ride home in the morning- in fact, my dad's insisting I do." He laughs awkwardly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, feet shuffling against the carpet.

"Thanks, Rafe." His name feels foreign as it leaves my lips as he steps into the room. "Do you need anything-"

"How's the, uh, sessions been with Wheezie?" He asks suddenly, cheeks blushed in a faint red tint. His question makes my brows tick up in confusion, wondering why on earth he cares- he's never been interested enough to ask. "That was a really poor attempt to try to talk to you." He chuckles bashfully, leaning against the wall only feet away from me.

"You could've just talked to me." I laugh, fisting the sleeves of my long-sleeve shirt, nervously biting at the inside of my cheek. If Wheezie was here, she's ask for some distance between us, constantly joking about my 'hormones' when it comes to her brother. She's way smarter than people give her credit for and you'd be so surprised on the things she's picked up on, even when you don't want her to.

"Yeah?" He asks, brows furrowing cutely. "Can we talk now?" His question makes my stomach flip, more so than the pounding thunder outside the walls as the rain violently hits against the window.

"About?" He shrugs, sliding down the wall to sit. "We've literally never had a substantial conversation. Why now?" I ask, jumping as another crash of thunder hits, lightening lighting the whole room up momentarily.

"In all honesty?" He asks with a sheepish laugh.

"I'd hope so." A few moments pass, Rafe's lips parted in silent words, the smile on his lips not fading as I wait.

"I think you're really hot."

I'm sorry, what?

I blink dumbly at him, jaw slack as he laughs. "That was unexpected." I whisper, reaching up to rub my hands down my face, taking a second to grin like an idiot into my palms. "Just like this storm." I snort, pointing out the window as the house rattles.

"Do you not like storms?" He asks, not phased one bit at chaos.

"I do. But only when I'm tucked in my bed in my trusty trailer and not in a mansion, in clothes and a room that aren't mine." I chuckle nervously, watching his brows settle and his lips tug down into a frown as he looks around the room.

"Well, it's not your bed or your room but I could tuck you in." He flirts, his grin making my head spin especially at the realization that he's openly flirting with me.

"I'll be fine-" I cut myself off with a squeak as another crack of lightening lights up the room, a loud laugh coming from Rafe who claps his hands in amusement.

"Mhm, you look fine." He teases, making his way over to sit beside me, his arm scooting around my waist to pull me into his side. I gawk up at him, taken completely off guard at his forwardness but he just smiles calmly.

"So you've gotten an excuse to talk to me and now what? Touch me?" I ask, finding it humorous that he'd ever take on the stance of a 'knight in shining armor' to protect me from the raging storm outside.

"Yeah, I'd say this is working out in my favor." He shrugs cockily but his soft smile tells a different story, his boyish gaze flickering across my hesitant expression. Reaching out, I press a hand to his chest and he raises his hands in surrender with a laugh.

"Cool it, hot shot. Before I tell your sister you came onto me." He scoffs at my threat, bumping his shoulder with mine before patting my knee as another crack of thunder sounds above us.

"She'd jump for joy."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy

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[exileorexodus]

It’s weird because this is the most genuinely alone that I’ve felt in a very long time. I make one or two circumstantial friends at Brock to sate myself for the day, and I never talk to them again afterwards. There are no kept connections, no reach-outs, no hangouts. I’ve always had some kind of codependent friendship (or multiple) to keep me going throughout my life, so this is a very strange change. I walk the university campus alone, I go to class alone, i don’t really talk to anyone, I leave class alone, and I go back home in solitude. I spent my birthday alone, in the quiet, with crickets chirping outside.

It’s nice. I don’t find that I mind it as much as I probably should. After a lifetime of being tugged about, ripped apart in the torrents of other people and martyred to kingdom come, it’s refreshing to not have to deal with anything interpersonally - or at all. Being confided in feels healthy now. It’s no longer only my burden to weather, it’s no longer my obligation to wade through. It’s not my job to stay as someone keeps ramming themselves into a wall over and over and hands me the damage to mitigate. I’m there as a passive (oftentimes harsh) support and a second opinion, and a relieving finality, a total outsider. It’s incredibly peaceful. I haven’t felt this at peace socially in years.

I’ve also never felt this much of a stable footing towards the (oftentimes unintentional) nasty interference of my parents either. It’s still draining, and annoying. But it doesn’t make me want to run out into traffic or self-mutilate like it used to. I don’t flinch anymore.

A lot of the lack of connection is probably just because there’s no one else that really cares about making more ether. I’m not very easy to talk to and can’t really hold a conversation with those outside of my wavelength for the life of me, so maybe I’m just boring. Maybe other people are boring to me too. Maybe we both find eachother exhausting.

[waitineedaname]

actually I'm not done thinking about teru and ritsu's friendship. I think teru might be one of ritsu's first real friends. ritsu isn't like,, the most social kid in the universe, and I think he has plenty of superficial friends (see: "I talk about the weather with pretty much anyone") but I think the only real close friends he has are teru and shou. and I think it's bc both of them are people he met without his Perfectly Ordinary Middle Schooler mask. he has to fill the role of honor student, perfect son, doting brother, etc. all the time while ALSO trying to blend into the background and be inconspicuous, and that's part of why he lashed out like he did during the cleanup arc, but with teru and shou, his first encounter with both of them involved him being an arrogant little shit that's willing to pick fights, which contradicts the perfect kid act AND the perfectly ordinary middle schooler act, and is in fact much more honest bc he's not hiding this kind of nasty side to himself. and that honesty works out for him with these two! teru sees himself in ritsu because he's also kind of an arrogant little prick, and aside from initially trying (and succeeding) to intimidate him, teru looks out for him and risks his life trying to save him and they genuinely get along pretty well! and with shou, he sees that ritsu is willing to fight him on his own and he's like "oh you're fucking nuts, we need to be best friends now" and immediately respects him a lot just because he's not gonna run away from a fight he's certain to lose. idk, I just think it's important that ritsu's first real friends are ones who saw him in rather ugly circumstances and wanted to be friends with him anyway

[gabessquishytum]

pervy pantysniffer hob is an absolute favorite but i also looooove the idea of dream and hob being next door neighbors with convenient views into each others windows. hob realizes when he’s working in his office and he looks out the window and sees his new neighbor bringing boxes up into his own office—except it isn’t an office for him, he chose that room to be his bedroom, instead. hob tries to introduce himself to the guy, since he’s a civil neighbor and all, but he isn’t sure if hes more shocked by the fact that dream is stunningly beautiful or the fact that he’s a total stuck up bitch who essentially met hob for the first time and told him right where he could stick it. it makes it hard for hob to hit on dream that way, since he’s so anti social and moody, but it certainly helps that he’s getting his own private strip tease every night as dream gets ready for bed. hob inevitably fucks up and let’s his secret loose when he mentions dreams scars in casual conversation and dream realizes there’s no other way for hob to know about them hnless he’s seen him naked …..

Omg I do love it when Hob is a nasty pervy little man. As a treat <3

And surely if Dream wanted privacy, he'd at least pull his curtains together when he gets changed! But apparently he seems to think that he lives in his own private little world. He often gets naked as soon as he comes in from work, or else he puts on a dark, silky robe which hardly even covers up his arse. Dream doesn't really go out much, preferring to spend his time writing or listening to music, or painting - he always gets naked when he paints, presumably to avoid staining his clothes. Hob gets a premium view as Dream stands in front of the easel, one hand propped on his hip with the paintbrush in his mouth. It's unbearably erotic to witness.

Of course he fucks it all up by politely enquiring in the elevator one day if the scars on Dream’s legs bother him much during the heat (Hob has scars of his own, and he hates the way they start to itch when the weather is humid and sticky). Dream glares at him even more ferociously than usual, accuses him of being a peeping tom, and proceeds to list all the things that he's seen Hob doing in the few months that they've been neighbours. Turns out, Hob wasn't the only one looking.

Dream tells him all about the things he's seen through Hob’s bathroom window (which doesn't have frosted glass, neither does Dream’s but he's got a shade over it). How he knows that Hob has a dildo suctioned onto the wall of his shower, and that he's seen him use it. How he knows that Hob doesn't shave down there. How he could pin-point the scar on Hob’s belly right now, even with his shirt in the way.

He gets to the end of his rant, panting a little, and Hob just smirks at him. He's so flattered that Dream has been watching him too! What an unexpected delight. Hob enjoys being watch, especially by someone as beautiful as Dream.

And Dream doesn't know whether to kiss him or slap him. So he settles on doing both. The fact that Hob moans when he's slapped kind of seals the deal. Dream was trying to stay out of trouble by moving to a new place and staying away from his neighbours... but it's too late now. He's got to make sure that Hob regrets his bad behaviour!

[finniestoncrane]

Like An Animal

Dano!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 4.5k an arrangement for anonymous fetish sex goes completely wrong when the sweet, shy guy you vibed with online is nasty little edward nashton 🐀💚 kinks are so multi-faceted. it's fine if this is interesting/arousing/scary/healing for you! you're normal, and you're completely valid 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: non-con, dubcon, cnc elements, violence, threats, intense fear, this is nasty shit sodon't read if it makes you uncomfortable duh

It was an interesting arrangement. Beneficial to them both, as they explored the darker sides of their desires in completely privacy. She was amazed that he was the type. When he had answered her request for a partner in specific activities on the forum, she was already prepared to have to block several fake replies, some un-practiced boys trying to be daddies, men just desperate to have sex who would have overlooked her specifications around kinks and rules. But this one was different, formal, slightly reserved, but knowledgeable in the ‘lingo’ enough to let her know he might have enough experience. His questions were respectful, unemotional. Straight to business kind of, which was ok. It was actually her preference.

As someone with very little social skills outside of sex, it was difficult to approach someone in the first place, let alone get to a situation where she could ask them for exactly what she wanted. But, on the forums, it was transactional, formal. Everything could be pre-arranged with very little need for speaking when it came to the act. There had been several acts with the two of them now, and it was safe to assume that he was keen on the task-based nature of what they did together.

After the first few “dates” (basic vanilla sex to understand each other’s bodies and potential limits) they had an open discussion together, before deciding to explore the more intense kinks that they shared in common. He lamented that wasn’t experienced physically, which had been obvious at first, but that he knew what he liked and had done extensive research on the topics.

“I like to learn…to research.”

It was odd, she felt so attracted to him, despite his frankly plain appearance. He was average height, average build, average haircut, but his face was soft and round and filled with a naivety that drove her wild. So, they discussed moving things forward. Tonight was the big night, and it was her choice of activity.

He had arrived exactly on time, another habit she picked up on. He was organised and punctual, which only served the structured and emotionless nature of their ‘affair’. She liked that about him. Efficient, conscientious, respectful of her time and any boundaries. It was easy to feel safe with him, part of the reason she was so willing to allow him control this evening. And he was obviously prepared, dropping down his rucksack with a heavy thud, as his ‘tools’ settled on the floor at the bottom of the bag. She invited him into her dimly not romantically lit apartment where they met each time. Usually, he was dressed as though he had been working a 9-5 at an office. Suit trousers, a plain and ill-fitting shirt, boring tie, standard dress shoes, a navy blue puffer jacket shielding his thin body against the Gotham weather.

But tonight he looked almost militant. Prepared for action. He had on a green jacket, black combat pants and large combat boots. She took it in, interested more than anything else. Perhaps it was easier for him to get into character for what they had planned. She searched for the answer in his green eyes, obscured from her questioning by the lenses of his glasses. He coughed when she didn’t say anything, clearing his voice and stammering over his first word before relaxing into himself.

“I’m really glad that you wanted to try this. I’m…excited.”

“I’m glad too, it’s maybe a difficult thing for some people to enjoy, or to accept that they enjoy. But it’s the same as any other kink. Consenting adults working out their fucked up trauma some way or another, huh?”

He didn’t respond, he just gestured to the bathroom.

“Oh, go ahead! I can go get ready in the bedroom. I’ll see you in there, just come in when you’re done.”

She left him standing in the hall, and he watched her disappear into the room, closing the door behind her. She was wearing a t-shirt and some jeans. She hadn’t prepared at all. Not like him. He picked his bag up and went into the small bathroom. He settled the bag on her narrow sink counter, taking out the items from within it. Leather gloves, a roll of duct tape, a carpet tucker just for the threat, and the mask. His mask. He lent on the sink, knuckles white as he gripped the underside of it with his fingers, trying to stabilise himself.

While I’m here…

He rifled through the cabinets, quietly, searching for secrets about her. He had used the bathroom before, but always quickly. This time he had a reason to be in here longer. And, taking his time to be as silent as possible, he eventually found a stash of medicines, one of which he pocketed. A bottle of sleeping pills. Just in case he thought to himself. He donned the mask, fixing his hair underneath and placing his glasses back on top. Three deep breathes in and out as he looked at himself in the mirror. He could feel himself hardening just at his own image. He was a God in his regalia.

This is the practice run. How strong are you? What do you need to do? How best can you get them under control? And then, the reward for your efforts.

He gripped the door handle with his leather clad hand and took one further deep, slow breath before exiting as quietly as possible, standing outside the bedroom door and letting the anticipation linger, painfully, on his mind, body and soul.

She had been waiting, sitting on the bed, for him to finish in the bathroom. No flush, no sound of running water from the old, rusty pipes in her apartment building. She wondered what he was doing, but considered his position. What she had asked him for was intense, and though he was clearly interested and had been reading up on it, it must have been nerve-wracking for someone so inexperienced to build themselves up to this. To a rape fantasy. Not everyone could get on board with the idea of humiliation and violation, and she supposed it might be harder for the person dealing the punishment even. It was a moral and ethical line for some people, and she knew from experience that even if someone was interested in it, feeling able to participate was a whole other thing entirely.

She flipped over onto her stomach, reaching for her phone and making sure she hadn’t missed any texts from him. Maybe he just left? She hadn’t heard the door though, but he might have been trying to sneak out. Disappointment settled in her chest, she had been building up to this for months, desperate for it from the moment she met him. He was so meek looking, the idea of him even pretending to be able to exert any power over her, she was intensely hungry for that level of humiliation. Being degraded by someone she could easily beat up. Pathetic, she mewled softly as she felt a burning in her crotch, her chest tightening at the thought.

And then a sensation on her skin, around her ankles. Tight and forceful. She was turning herself round, aided by the grip, and as her eyes adjusted from the brightness of her phone screen to the darkness of her bedroom, a shape began to take form at the bottom of the bed. He was standing, hands pressed around her ankles, squeezing tight and easing up slightly. Not enough for her to be able to slip loose, she noted.

He's really getting into this.

“Hey are-”

He tugged her body and she fell off of her elbows, flat on the bed, air escaping from her in shock, anticipation. When she lifted her head to look at him, he placed one finger in front of the mouth of the mask, signalling her to be quiet. Her stomach clenched, thighs squeezing together as she realised how well he was at actually taking a controlling position. He loomed over here, the sensory combination of his endless stare combined with the scent of leather and plastic, his quick change from boring middle-manager to the perfect villain was sending her mind racing. She closed her lips together, squeezing them tight for emphasis so he knew she was prepared to be a very good girl.

She was so willing, her eagerness to please him, and to be pleased herself, was obviously clouding her judgement. He was certain that any normal person, anyone not so drunk with lust, would have should have taken one look at him and screamed. He hoped he was a vision of terror, and that she was just so interested in having him inside of her greedy cunt that she was willing to overlook the danger.

It's also possible she’s just that stupid, he laughed to himself. But he wanted to check. It would make it more satisfying for him to know the answer, as was his way.

“This is what I want. Is it what you want?”

“Well, yeah, you know that. We talked about it.”

“Ok. Well, I’m going to get on top of you now. I don’t want you to talk until I ask you to. Unless you need me to stop. Then you can use our agreed words. For now, though, I just want to feel you under me. I want you to get familiar with the weight of me. Test your strength.”

At her nod, he positioned one knee on the mattress, pressing down slowly and testing the strength of her shabby looking bed. It would do. He began to crawl towards her, settling his whole body onto hers, flat and still, his head turned away. She was looking up at the ceiling. It was awkward, it should have been embarrassing, but it felt strangely good to have him on top of her, effortlessly holding her to the bed. Stuck.

“I want you to feel like you’re in danger. I want you to struggle. Ok?”

She nodded, silent still, obeying his earlier commands, hoping to enthuse his sense of control. She lifted her hands to her front, between their bodies, palms flat against his stomach, and pushed, trying to lift him off of her. She grunted in faux effort, tiny whimpers as she pretending to struggle with him. She was enjoying this more than she had even thought possible. Pathetically grateful at the opportunity, she began to make a light weeping noise, more fake efforts at lifting him from her despite it being the last thing she wanted.

“Do you feel safe with me?”

She nodded, panting lightly, unable to get a full breath under his weight.

“I’m going to force myself inside of you, do you want that?”

It was all she wanted, all she could think about. A more enthusiastic nod this time. She opened her eyes to stare at him and smiled. She couldn’t see his face under the mask, but his eyes were wide. Very telling. And they weren’t reciprocating the smile.

He’s committed. Because I can definitely tell he’s enjoying this.

His length, hardening, rock solid against her thighs, twitching occasionally and tapping against her entrance as it did so. He moaned as she shifted below him, trying to get more comfortable.

“I want to make you feel good, you understand? I want you to be happy. I want you to enjoy this. I need you to tell me you trust me. Say it.”

“I trust you.”

“Struggle then.”

She wriggled her arms up to his chest, pushing lightly. Weak mewling poured from her lips, rehearsed and forced in an attempt to entice him further. Forcing her way up to his shoulders she grabbed the jacket and gave a playful shove. She yelped, pretending that the effort was too much, that he was just too big and strong for her. She wanted to feel him twitch at the noise. But it had the opposite effect to what she wanted, and her smile dropped completely as his hand, gloved and warm, made sharp and fast contact with the side of her face.

“Don’t pretend. Push me. Make some effort.”

She was taken back, but she had asked for degradation. Violation. And while she wasn’t sure he would have been able to commit to it, the slap had been very effective. It felt raw, emotional. Unrehearsed. She pushed harder, and a small pang of panic flitted through her mind as she realised that even giving all of her effort, he was actually too strong to push off of her. He was deceptively heavy, and oddly strong. He sank down harder onto her, seeming to weight more through sheer will power alone. The grunts were real now, as she used all of her force to try and shift him even slightly.

He groaned and grabbed her arms, holding them flat on the bed, straight above her head, his hands grasping the flesh just above her underarms. And so she resorted to using her legs, writhing and kicking from under him, thrashing in a way that was forceful, but careful not to hurt him.

“You’re not trying, are you? You’re making it so easy for me, too easy. Given up? Keep pushing, it’s not as much fun if you’re not struggling.”

She stopped for a moment, considering sulking at his attitude. She was trying, but he was too strong. He had overpowered her, which was the goal, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it.

“Struggle harder, use your legs you whore! You’re just lying there and taking it. Come on!”

Teeth clenched, seething at the insults, she thrashed her legs out, actively attempting to hurt him.

“That’s it! You’re so pretty when you struggle. Thrashing only makes me harder, but you better not stop.”

He pressed down on her, harder if that was even possible, panting heavily. His breath grew louder, hotter as he leaned his face to hers, planting a surprisingly tender kiss on the corner of her mouth, sloppily reaching for it in his haze, licking at her cheek and biting her chin. He followed the curve down to her neck, sucking and biting at it as he lay his body flat, still, on top of her. Occasionally bucking his hips into her when she let out a little yelp at the pain his teeth were inflicting on her tender skin.

He shifted, one hand on her arm still held above her head, the other hand on her hip, pushing it painfully into the mattress.

“Push me off.” He was commanding, serious. She gave a shove, straining against him to be able to put her weight into it.

“You can’t get me off, huh? Push harder, come on.”

She tried, with all her might, one last great heave, her whole body trying to arch off the bed and throw him off balance. But he didn’t budge, and she flopped back down in resignation, disappointed that she couldn’t offer him the fight he obviously wanted. She hoped he could still get off, that he wouldn’t call the whole thing off just as it was getting to the good part.

But instead, he sat up, straddling her. He pushed her shoulders, thudding her against the mattress again.

“Imagine being so pathetic” he spat the words out, “that you would let me hold you down without putting up a fight. Such a stupid little slut.”

Her abdomen tensed at the words, blood rushing to her cheeks, wetness forming in her underwear. She wondered, hopefully, how many times she might cum tonight. She was broken from the wishful thoughts as she heard a tearing sound from above her. He was ripping off a piece of duct tape, staring at the length he held from arm to arm. The way he held it, stared at in appreciation. It seemed ceremonious, like a ritual.

“Do you trust me?” She nodded. It was strange, but if anything, she trusted him more now than she had before. And she was desperate. This was all she had wanted for so long, a fantasy she had been building for years, never able to achieve a real orgasm because the lingering promise of what could have been, of this exact situation, was always there just out of reach. And now it was here. And she did trust him. She trusted him to deliver her pleasure. She trusted his abilities. She trusted their safe words.

“Grab onto the headboard.”

She took two of the spindles in her hands and he wrapped the duct tape around one wrist, tight and painful. She winced at it, but felt her clit throb in reaction. The other hand was wrapped swiftly after, and with nothing to push him with she began to twist her hips around under him, friction pressing against both of them, pushing them together, the heat unbearable.

“Oh Y/N this is…this is perfect.”

It was bliss to hear him call out-

Your name.

They hadn’t used each other’s names. They didn’t refer to each other at all, and the only time they had was when they confirmed their usernames to each other. Her username which had no tie to any other account, or her real name, or her email address even.

So how did he know? How did he know your name.

Panic twinged in her veins and her blood ran cold as she contemplated how safe she actually was right now. But before you could open her mouth, convinced already that saying the safe word would be futile, her mouth was covered with one, and then two, and then three strips of duct tape. Her breath was secured, trapped in her mouth. She had no option but to swallow it, eyes watering and wide at the fear now settling in her stomach. This wasn’t what she wanted. She let out a muffled whimper that led to a heavy sob, and from above her, settled on her abdomen now, she could hear him begin to laugh, stifling it as he began a tirade of fury aimed at her terrified face, spit frothing and hitting her as he spoke with an intense ferocity.

“Oh, poor Y/N. You poor, dumb thing. I lied to you, you fucking idiot! You’re such a stupid bitch, I almost felt sorry for you, actually. How were you to know? But then I thought you know what, normal women, respectable women don’t invite strangers into their home to fuck them, let alone ask them to tie them up and do bad and naughty things to them. So, if you think about it, you kind of deserve this.”

He smiled down at her, wiping his thumb under her eye and bringing it to his mouth to taste the tear on his tongue. His hands, still gloved, ran up and down her, and he shifted down her body again, straddling her, cock hard and pushed up against her thigh. He pressed his whole body against her, desperately, hands all over her arms, holding her against the bed, moving to her wrists where he teased at the duct tape, laughing at her.

His movements were clumsy, with a complete disregard to her body, laying underneath him. He kneed her as he shuffled down her body, sitting on her legs to keep them still. But yet, he demanded more from her.

“Come on, push me off of you! You’re not even trying, it’s like you want this. Is that it? You want it this way?”

She was shaking her head, desperately trying to find within him the reasonable man she had thought existed. But through the steamed glasses, there was nothing beyond the mask, and she became sickeningly aware that he had been in disguise the whole time.

“I know, there’s no point really. You can struggle as hard as you want, try and prove to me you don’t want it. But I know you do.”

He was unbuttoning her jeans, fumbling with his gloved hands. He snarled, growling as he pulled them down, little by little.

“And do you want to know something?” He was breathing heavily, panting at the effort he was exerting to remove her jeans as she squirmed. He grunted as he yanked them down, shifting them under his own body in an effort to keep her legs trapped beneath him.

“You’re not going anywhere!”

With a swift and rough movement he had pulled her jeans down completely, underwear coming down with them. He grabbed at them, pulling in an effort to rip them off, cutting at her legs as they refused to come off in the dramatic fashion he had hoped. She moved slightly, trying to shift and make it easier for him, but stopped in her tracks, like a hunted animal, as he groaned and pulled out a switch knife, quickly and all too carelessly slipping it under the fabric and pulling it up, cutting them in half, the fabric falling onto the bed below her. She was panting silent breaths. The nerves, visible on her face, her body, on the way her gasps fell out of her mouth. It all turned him on and he had to refocus on what he was trying to achieve, before he lost it and shot his load right there, watching her stare at him in terror, exposed. Soaked.

“God, you’re a mess, look how wet you are.”

He ran a finger up her slit, the sensation of the leather warm and rough. He retreated, both hands now slapping her thighs and grabbing them.

“I want to feel you. Skin to skin.” He bites at the gloves, pulling them off with his teeth. The way he moves is so animalistic, it pains her to know how arousing it all is.

“I want my fingerprints on you. If they find me, God I hope this is how they find me, I want them to find me. I want everyone to know who I am by finding out that you’re a pathetic whore who let me fuck you senseless.”

She whimpered at his words, tears falling from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. She was ashamed of how much she was enjoying this, but she was entirely terrified, genuinely convinced that these moments were going to be her last. And part of her was ok with that, was trying to lean into it. Self-preservation? Her brain trying to numb her feelings? She wasn’t sure, but the tears poured forth despite trying to remain stoic in the face of her attacker.

“You’re so pretty when you’re crying. And you sound so good, so weak and small and desperate. Do you feel trapped?”

There was an effort of refusal, shifting below him and attempting to wriggle free from under his weight. He grunted, hands pushing her thighs apart as he settled between them, her legs unable to close over as he spread them out with his knees.

“I’m going to cum inside of you. I’m going to leave myself with you. I want you to remember this.”

He grunted, shifting his own trousers down, growling with a snarl on his face as he grabbed at his cock and smoothly pressed it against her thigh, moving to run it up her slit, edging slightly between her lips. He twitched and his voice caught in his throat as he felt her cum on his head. And with a final moan, he thrust himself in hard. She let out a muffled yelp, despite being incredibly wet he had still taken her by surprise by the swiftness of his entrance, and the dull ache as he forced himself up to the hilt was followed by floods of pleasure she no longer wanted.

“Look at me. Don’t blink, don’t shut your eyes, just look at me.”

She struggled against him, body trying to force its way further into the mattress so give some space between her and his body, to prevent him from getting so deep.

“Hey! I need you to look at me, look into my eyes and tell me you don’t want this.” He ripped the duct tape from her face. It smarted, her cheeks red underneath, some skin from her lips coming with it, tiny flecks of blood forming on them.

“Tell me you don’t want this. Come on, say it. If you don’t want it, say so. Ask me nicely.”

“Please, please stop.” She began to sob under him, irritated that she had allowed him to get the better of her. Disappointment at the fact he hadn’t stopped, when she’d asked him so nicely. Shame that she’d though he would in the first place.

“Don’t cry, idiot. Why would you think I would stop? Can you not feel how hard I am? You’re clenching around me. You like this too.”

He was slapping against her, the sharp sounds echoing around the room as she whined and moaned around him. The vibrations of her sobbing and shaking sending him over the edge. He pushed into her, harder and harder, making sure she could feel every single inch of him sliding into her, deep and painful. Sharp pains dulled by a bruising ache as he thudded inside of her over and over again, carelessly and angrily.

“Please…please don’t.”

“Please no, please stop, please don’t.” He was mocking her. “Pathetic, begging me. Look at me!”

She stared up at him, resolving to maintain eye contact. He seemed close, pressure building and his rutting become more frantic and ill-paced. She was going to make him watch her, see her face as he came. Remember the fear he instilled in someone. Though, in the back of her mind, she knew that was more pleasurable for him than a punishment.

“Oh God, I’m going…to cum…” His voice was weaker, softer. And in a turn that took her by complete surprise, he brought his hands around her back and kissed her, lifting her slightly and holding him to her. The sickly sweet action made her stomach turn.

“Tell me you like it. Tell me…you want…this…Tell me…I’m good.”

She couldn’t get any words out between panting and sobbing. If anything, his swift change in direction to needy and desperate had only fuelled her terror more. He was entirely unhinged. A mad man, on top of her, inside of her.

“Tell me…you love me! Tell…me…you love…me! Look me…in the eyes…and say it…”

At her silence, he grabbed her throat, tensing his fingers against the sides.

“I love you” she managed to get out, gasping and wheezing against his crushing pressure. And at her words, he came. A high-pitched scream that sounded more like pain than pleasure. He was breathing heavily, air squealing in his throat as he panted, filled with complete ecstasy and maybe misery. But he managed to catch his breath and he lay back down on her, completely flat, cock falling out of her, cum spilling on to the sheets below her. She was pinned down again.

“I love you too. I’m so glad we met.”

He knew where she lived. He knew her name. She had let her guard down too easily, charmed by what she now realised was the mask he was wearing when they first met. This was his real face. A figure shrouded in green.