Tumgik
#Apologies to anyone who gets tagged and would rather not for a post like this
white-cat-of-doom · 1 year
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I posted 2,327 times in 2022
827 posts created (36%)
1,500 posts reblogged (64%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@the-cat-at-the-theatre-door
@munku-collar
@white-cat-of-doom
@sillybub
@cassandra-has-moonlit-eyes
I tagged 2,321 of my posts in 2022
#cats the musical - 2,288 posts
#cats musical - 2,287 posts
#cats us tour 6 - 356 posts
#jellylorum - 262 posts
#victoria - 260 posts
#demeter - 253 posts
#bombalurina - 247 posts
#cats rccl cast 12 - 244 posts
#cats uk tour 2022 - 232 posts
#cats international tour 2022 - 230 posts
Longest Tag: 139 characters
#part of me wants to change my avatar to one of these pieces but i cannot bring myself to take away the 2019 rumple i have had for two years
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
Today is the day! The Il Sistina production of CATS opens tonight (07 December 2022) in Rome!
Below are some more specific character photos, outside of larger group photos.
Jacopo Pelliccia as Gatto Giò (Bustopher Jones, a separate character in this production).
Photos taken by Gianluca Sarago.
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Gaia Soprano as Cassandra.
See the full post
133 notes - Posted December 7, 2022
#4
Everyone generally knows what the Rumpus Cat looks like in traditional productions, right? A bit silly, with funky hair and red eyes.
Meanwhile in Japan, the modern Rumpus Cat looks like this:
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The hero we never knew we needed.
(Fukuoka 2021, January 2022; Kenshin Mori as Rumpus Cat, Miki Okudaira as Jellylorum, Eiko Kataoka as Rumpleteazer, Yuki Takahashi as Old Deuteronomy, Taijun Kanemoto as Munkustrap, and Yurie Sato as Bombalurina. Almost fully hidden is Haruaki Tamai as Mungojerrie.)
141 notes - Posted February 21, 2022
#3
Rehearsals have started for the production of CATS at Teatro Sistina in Italy, starting 07 December 2022, an officially licensed non-replica from RUG.
The designs are interesting in that they have reference sheets for both the makeup and costume.
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See the full post
149 notes - Posted November 9, 2022
#2
The promotional pictures for the UK/International Tour 2022 have been posted!
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See the full post
181 notes - Posted May 31, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
I never uploaded these pictures last year, so I figured now would be a fun time to celebrate Pride Month again. Who better than with my favourite cast of Cats in Vienna?
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See the full post
192 notes - Posted June 1, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#It has been a good year for me and CATS#I luckily got to see the last cast three times and the current cast (only) once#An interesting breakdown here#I would have thought I created more posts but 36% is much higher than the 3% last year!#Plus I reblogged from myself a fair amount which lessens those numbers compared to making a new post altogether#Jellylorum being the top character tag is actually a bit surprising to me#But good for me for pulling that off#Poor Jenny was in enough posts#I had completely forgotten about that top post but that is fun to see#Aside from myself being in the top 5 (I would not thought I counted towards that) the reblogged blogs the list is not surprising at all#And that longest tag! It did not take long after for me to overhaul (as much as you can overhaul on mobile) my appearance to change my icon#To one of the beautiful art pieces of my OC Freya that Jemi created and I would not have it any other way now#Thank you again Jemi for creating those#You are too kind and immensely talented and that is why you were obviously going to be my most reblogged blog#Apologies to anyone who gets tagged and would rather not for a post like this#I guess the main point to all of this is to say thank you to everyone who interacts with this blog and to anyone who makes content#Enjoy your passions and interests and maybe someone else will love it alongside you but at the very least you are making it for yourself#Let me see if I can overtake my reblogged posts with my created posts next year#I think I am well on my way#I hope I offered everyone some fun posts and up to date information on the musical as the (official) unofficial source for everything CATS#(that last one is more a joke but at this point how much of one is the question?)#Rambling over#Thanks for everything everyone#Who knows maybe I will actually have something important to say next year
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utahlive · 17 days
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Announcement
Hello UtahLIVE viewers, I have come before you today to talk a bit about recent events and how they will impact the future of this blog. Apologies this note is a bit long, but I would really appreciate it if you took some time to read this.
As I'm sure many of you know, within the past month Wilbur Soot/William Gold has been outed as an abuser. I want to make it clear right now that I no longer support him, nor do I accept his apology (mainly because it's not mine to accept in the first place). I stand with and believe Shelby and Alice 100%. This goes for any other victims that have or will come forward that I am unaware of, since I've been trying my best to stay offline. This aint about me!! But it's still hard when someone you look up to and who inspired you to create art turns out to be a shitbag. If you were somehow unaware of this, please go watch Shelby/Shubble's stream (VOD + transcript) and read Alice's post (and mind the CW/TWs) for more information.
This blog has brought me a lot of grief because of all of this. I do not want to support or perpetuate this man's image, but at the same time, I don't want to discontinue a story that I've put so much time and effort into. After a lot of deliberation, I've decided that I am going to continue this story until the end. I will also be adding a disclaimer in the pinned post, and I will no longer be tagging any of my posts from here on out with #wilbur soot or any adjacent tags. I don't think it's fair to myself or to anyone else who has enjoyed this blog to waste all the hard work that I have put in, because ultimately this is my project and my story, not his. If you disagree with this, I totally get it, but I ask you to just unfollow and/or block rather than sending me any hate because I promise you that whatever you say about me "supporting" Wilbur Soot by continuing this blog is something I've already considered myself. He is not (active) on Tumblr, he did not receive any of the money I got from stickers, I doubt anyone is looking at this blog and thinking "wow this Wilbur guy seems cool, let me go listen to his music and watch his vods".
Despite this decision, I'll probably still be taking a bit of time to myself to think about things and focus on school. Updates will likely resume in late March or early April.
I hope you can all respect my stance on this, and I want to reiterate how much I appreciate you all for supporting my work. Love you guys <3
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inmaki · 3 months
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gojo fic dropping jan 3 (POSTED!) here is a sneak peek of whats to cum, if u wanna be tagged comment or send me an ask!!!!
back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn't just good at sex.
no — according to himself, he was some kind of sex god, to match his power level in sorcery, of course.
and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with luscious white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.
satoru believes that he's done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.
the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.
since the day you'd gotten together - going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn't blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn't initiated anything; y'know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.
little did you know, your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.
"bro, it'd be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!" flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.
"everything'd be fine if you didn't pretend to be some incubus that gets girls to cum with a snap of his finger," geto quips unhelpfully.
satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he's resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. "that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. "how'm i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn't trust me anymore?"
at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. "you know y/n isn't like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow," he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.
"you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she'll be begging for you in no time."
as usual, geto knows him too well judging by the way his last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. "ya think so?"
"hell yeah, man." the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a determined gleam in both of their eyes.
sorry this is short but i gotta leave the good stuff a surprise <\3 finally my kpop smut blog skills r coming in handy.. i may be rusty tho i apologize
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spdrwdw · 4 months
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Art by Shuploc
Pairing: knight! Miguel x princess!reader
Warnings: some fluff, some angst, no use of y/n
Summary: You were the princess of your kingdom, and Miguel was a knight. What first started off with innocent glances and little gifts turned into something more. However, with the roles you to play in society, your love for each other has an expiration.
Word Count: 2.3k
A/N: I have been thinking about making this into a series or something based on this fic. Let me know if anyone is interested in that. Thank you to the anon who requested this! You guys have really been helping me write. I am still working on my other requests. Sorry if I have been slow in writing. It's that time of year when it's just so busy. If you would like to be tagged in any of my fics let me know. Or, you can simply turn on your notifications for my page and get notified whenever I post. Also, this hasn't been edited so apologies for any grammatical errors.
Check out my masterlist for more of my stuff
☆*:.。. o .。.:*☆ ☆*:.。. o .。.:*☆ ☆*:.。. o .。.:*☆ ☆*:.。. o .。.
At first, it was innocent glances. Peeking through lashes before looking away shyly, hiding behind your fan as to not meet his gaze. However, it proved to be a challenge when you had caught his interest. 
Soon enough, you started receiving little gifts. It never was addressed to whom it was from, but you knew they were from him. 
The gifts and stolen glances continued for weeks until one day, the knight decided to approach you. 
You never had him so close to you before, and while you knew he was rather tall, you didn’t know he was that tall! The way he towered over you sort of intimidated you, however, your uneasiness faltered when he gave you a gentle smile and bowed to you. 
You gave him a gentle smile back, however, not uttering a word to him. He didn’t mind, though. He still took the time to glance your way.
Encounters such as these became more common, and it had gotten to the point where Miguel would actually escort you to places. Wherever it was you wanted to go. You always asked for him, if he was available, and when he was, he would always say yes. 
He would always stay two paces behind you, even if he had to walk slower. While you didn’t talk to each other much, he would still greet you, calling you ‘princesa’. You didn’t know why, but you always felt butterflies in your stomach whenever you heard him speak. His voice was so smooth, like butter, a bit husky at times, but still a voice that you would love to listen to every single day. 
It would be a couple weeks later that you both began to hold conversation. It would be during one of your afternoon walks around the castle gardens. Miguel began the conversation, talking about the flowers as you both passed by them, and tell you how they reminded him of his late mother. You also learned that day that his younger brother was currently in training to become a full fledged knight. You could hear the pride in his voice. 
A couple months had then passed. Winter had arrived. And that was the first time he stole a kiss from you from behind a tree trunk.  While it wasn’t the first kiss you’ve had, it was the first time you felt sparks. The first time you felt something. Something igniting inside of you. You knew you weren’t going to be able to shake him off of you.
And, that wasn’t a good thing. 
Still, neither of you could help yourselves. You both had grown closer, shared secrets, told each other stories of one another. Miguel had not only become someone whom you snuck glances and kisses with, he had become your friend. 
And, you wish you could become something more. 
“There is something on your mind princesa. What is it that is troubling you?” Miguel asked as the two of you strolled through the kingdom. As always, he kept two paces behind you. 
You simply shook your head, shaking away the thoughts that plagued your mind. Glancing over at him, you gave Miguel a warm smile. 
“It’s nothing. Really,” you assured him. 
He could tell you were lying, however, he didn’t dare question you. 
As the seasons changed and time went by and the two of you continued to grow and change, so did your feelings for each other. 
No longer were they stolen kisses or innocent strolls through the kingdom, but, there were also more intimate moments as well. 
Whether at the horses’ stable, somewhere hidden in the gardens, or even in your private chambers, you two shared intimate moments.
Your relationship had to be kept secret, of course. Miguel was simply a knight- while a very high ranking one, his duty was to protect the kingdom and the crown. And you were the kingdom’s princess, and the one who will eventually be wearing the crown Miguel had sworn to protect. 
“I hear that your father will be hosting a ball within the coming months,” Miguel commented as the two of you laid naked in his bed, limbs tangled together. 
You simply let out a hum, not really wanting to think about it. Your father was hosting a ball in an attempt to get all of the eligible princes and the like to meet you. You knew the time would eventually come, in which you would have to look for a husband to marry. You were to become queen of your kingdom, and you were to have a crowned prince and bear heirs. 
However, you didn’t want to marry any one of those men who will be attending that ball. You wanted to be with Miguel. 
Miguel turned to look at you, his hand gently gripping your chin so you’d turn to meet his gaze. 
“There is something on your mind, princesa. I wish you would let me in.”
Letting out a sigh, you nodded your head. “Y-yes. Yes there is. I just. It’s about the ball. It’s my father’s attempt to find someone for me to marry.”
You glanced over at him, trying to read his expression. Miguel was good at hiding his feelings and keeping a stoic expression. He was a trained knight, after all. And one of the best. 
“Of course. It is time for you to start thinking about marriage. It is your duty as princess to not only become ruler to our kingdom, but to have a crowned prince at your side and have heirs.”
You frowned at his words. You knew that. But, you didn’t want to. 
“And..what will happen..to us?�� You then questioned.
 You didn’t want to end what you had with Miguel. He had not only become a good friend, but an amazing lover.
 And, you had fallen in love with him. But, you didn’t know whether to tell him or not. Of course, it was best if you didn’t. It would only end up breaking you even more if you admitted your feelings to him. Besides, you were sure Miguel didn’t feel the same way, right? You were the princess. Any man would’ve been lucky to have gotten with you. At least, that’s what you assumed. 
You were not aware that Miguel had indeed developed feelings for you, and that he was determined to keep them hidden from you. There was no need for the unnecessary heartbreak. However, watching you leave him was going to be heartbreaking enough as it is. It was best for him to take this love that he had for you and take it to the grave with him. You would forget him in due time. Miguel would most likely perish in war, and you would live the rest of your days ruling a kingdom and raising your heirs alongside your husband. 
“I don’t know..”Miguel finally answered after a moment of silence clouded the room. 
“We would most likely simply go back to how things were before.”
“But, I don’t want that,” you stated, sitting up slightly, covering your bosom with his covers. 
“It isn’t about what you want, princesa. It’s about what your duty as princess and future queen holds. There was never meant to be anything between us. You and I must both be aware of that. We can keep whatever we have going on for only so long. After that…I will go back to being a mere presence that is ordered to protect you.”
You looked down at his hand that rested beside you, grabbing it. It was so much larger than yours. The skin was rough; a sign of wear from training and battle. It’s one of the things you loved about him. His battle scars decorated his body, and you don’t know why but, you loved feeling every curve of them. 
“At the end of the day..none of this would’ve worked out. You and I both know that. Princesa, look at me,” Miguel sat up now, taking both of you hands in his. 
“We can never work out. You and I are from different backgrounds. Different social classes. You are of royalty. And I am a simple commoner. Our worlds were never meant to clash.” 
“But, they did,” you whispered, looking up at him. You could feel a lump in your throat. You didn’t want to say goodbye to this. To Miguel. To your love for him. 
“We can’t just pretend nothing ever happened, Miguel. I know you may not…feel the same way about me as I feel about you, but, I can’t just let this go,” you swallowed. 
“You will forget about me, princesa. You will. Your mind will be filled with other things as well as your time and your bed,” he told you, giving your hands a gentle squeeze before lifting them to his lips and kissing between the knuckles. 
“I will always be dutifully loyal to you. I will never be far from your side. And-“ he paused for a moment, averting his gaze from you. 
“My heart will belong to you, princesa. Even after we both move on, it will belong to you. Our time together will be something I keep and cherish until my very last breath,” he whispered, looking back to you. 
You stared at him for a moment, feeling your eyes glossing over. You didn’t want to let him go. You couldn’t. 
“So will mine!” You then blurted out. 
“My heart. My love. My everything! Every bit of me will always belong to you.”
Miguel shook his head, “No, princesa. You need to move on. You can’t be clouded by things that will be of disservice to you. Do you understand me?”
You shook your head in return as you got out of the bed, out of his warmth. 
“How can you just tell me to forget about you? Do you think this was all just for fun?” 
You knew he was right. You were well aware that they could never be. No matter how much she wanted it. She had to move on. Heck, she should’ve never even accepted his advances in the first place. 
“Of course not!” 
“Then why do you think that I can forget you just like that? Miguel. You pursued me. You sent me gifts.”
“I know. And that was a grave mistake on my part. I was not thinking. I was young and naive, then. Had I actually given it thought…I would’ve never done it,” he frowned, shaking his head. 
“So, this was all a mistake to you?” You glared at him.
“Of course not. I cherish all the times we spent together. This wasn’t all just for fun. It wasn’t because I was simply bored or I wanted to because I felt the need to waste your time. What I felt for you..what I feel for you..is real. This-” he motioned to the both of you, “-this is real to me. My feelings for you are genuine. They are real. And that is why I must let you go, mi princesa. Because, if I keep this up for much longer I don’t know if I will be able to handle the heartache.” 
You couldn’t help but to let the tears that filled your eyes spill over. You have known this man for a couple of years now. You had shared secrets, told stories of one another, shared dreams and shared each other’s beds. 
Miguel whispered your name, reaching out to you, yet you moved away from him. He couldn’t help but to frown, feeling his heart sink at you rejecting him. 
“Perhaps you are right. We should end things now..right now that I am able,” your lower lip quivered. 
You loved this man. You were in love with him. Truly. Madly. It just wasn’t fair. 
“Perhaps you are correct,” Miguel simply whispered. 
So, this was it, then. This was the end of it all. Miguel was truly a wonderful experience. You had learned so much from him. He had grown to be someone who you could trust, and you will continue to trust until the very end. 
You began gathering your clothes and proceeded to get dressed, with Miguel doing the same. 
“Shall I escort you home?” Miguel offered. 
You simply shook your head before remembering the time of day it was. It would be unwise to not have an escort. 
“Actually..yes. Please,” you nodded, getting the last bit of clothing on before waiting for him. 
The walk back to the castle was quiet. Too quiet. It was rather eerie, and you did not like it at all. There was no hand holding, no flirty glances, nothing. Just the sound of your footsteps on the cobblestone path. 
You wanted to burst into tears. How could life be so cruel? Your life was meant to be like in the fairytales where you get to marry who you love and happily ever after! You were the princess in those stories. 
And yet, no one knew the truth. The children who listened to the stories. The adults who would tell it to their children. The cruel truth that fairytales weren’t real.
Once you reached the castle, Miguel’s steps went into a halt. This was where he would drop you off. It was too risky for him to enter inside with you at this time of night. 
You didn’t want to say goodbye. Who knew if you would ever see him again. Well, of course you would but, not in the same light. He would no longer be your Miguel. He would simply be a knight whose duty is to protect the crown. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispered to you, reaching over to grab your hand, however, stopping just as his fingers brushed yours. 
You weren’t sure whether to trust his words or not. But, when he took a step back and bowed to you, that’s when you knew. 
It was over. 
☆*:.。. o .。.:*☆ ☆*:.。. o .。.:*☆ ☆*:.。. o .。.:*☆ ☆*:.。. o .。.
tags: @migueloharastruelove , @camzzn
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fl3shm4id3n · 1 year
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𝓑𝓵𝓾𝓮 𝓢𝓴𝓲𝓮𝓼
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𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧.
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ɴᴇᴛᴇʏᴀᴍ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ꜱᴏɴɢ: ʟᴀɴᴀ ᴅᴇʟ ʀᴇʏ- ᴄɪɴɴᴀᴍᴏɴ ɢɪʀʟ
Tw: Teenage love, mentions of passed bullying, weapon mentioned (spear), mamas just want what’s best for their kids, Tonowari being a loving father, Titanic reference, confession, kissing. 
Author’s note: I thought of spicing things up a bit, they will be more conflict later but not too hard because I am rooting for Neteyam and Y/n. Also comment some ideas for the next part, idk how long this series will turn out, but I'd like to see what you guys want to see next. I hope I’m not moving too fast, I just really love where this is going. I also forgot to add the masterlist on the other fics, I’ll be sure to add the link.
P.s. I apologies for late tagging people on my taglist, its my first time doing a taglist and I go back to my other posts and check the comments to see if anyone else would want to be tag. Also for some reason some of the people I tag won’t pop up, sorry :(
Masterlist
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Neytiri knew something, she knew that her eldest son had began to catch feelings for someone. The thing is she had no idea who her son was falling head over heels for. She wanted to know who it was and find out fast because the curiosity would consume her, if he ended up lying to her, she would not be happy than she already isn’t. Neytiri was still mad that she had to leave her home, it still irked her that her family will now have to live differently then what they were used to in the forest. 
She wanted to keep a close eye on him but she would be invading his privacy, her mate was already hard on their kids, she didn’t want to be that kind of mother, but if it was for the sake of her children, so be it. Neytiri will give Neteyam some space, allowing him to tell her when he is ready.
Even after that talk with her mate, Ronal was still worried, she feared that her child may be taken away from her from an unworthy mate. She wanted her child to be happy but with the right person. It was hard enough that y/n could not mate before eywa light rest of the people due to her being different. Ronal did not like to call her child a human, humans were demons that destroy beautiful things for their own benefit.
Y/n was strong, yes she may not be a na’vi but she is a strong girl who deserves to be a Tsahik in the future, but she knew that the responsibility will lay on Tsireya due to being the oldest. She hopes in finding out who this person was sooner rather than later, before it is to late. Every time Ronal looks at Y/n, she sees her as a baby she once held for the first time, her small body covered in red, her baby. Ronal would do anything in her power to keep her baby happy.
You had finished getting ready for the day, instead of going for swim, you decided to go practice with your spear. You wore a top that was made of rope, seaweed and some pearls that hanged. For the bottom you wore a small skirt around your hips made out of light and dark net, you tide a cloth under you to cover your intimate parts. You tied your hair up to keep it out of the way, when you were using your weapon. 
When done you left to the beach, the day had been going smoothly. Some kinds were running around playing in the water, the fishermen had come back from the ocean with fish, everything was normal. You stopped in a small spot that was bit farther away from the beach, it was like a training ground of yours and your father’s. You both would come here to practice on how you could use a spear. On your thirteenth birthday he gifted you the spear he made for you. You loved it very much, you didn’t allow anyone to touch, the people who could touch it was Tsireya, your mother and father. You didn’t trust your brother with your spear, he’d probably break it or something. 
You were throwing your spear as hard as you could, you wanted to go farther than you already were. Your father has taught you how to use a spear from a young age, due to it you had got some muscle, you wish you were more muscular like him. Also not to mention what you can do with a blade, when your mother found out that your father gave you a blade at a small age, she nearly popped a blood vessel. Ronal was very protective of you, she feared that anything could harm you due to not being a na’vi. Tonowari had a talk with her about you learning how to fight and such, he knew that one day they will not always be their to protect you, he wanted you to be a warrior and to fend for yourself when they were no longer around.
After what felt like a while, you managed to throw the spear farther away hitting a palm tree near by. You began jumping of joy, you finally manage to do it. “Good shot” you stopped to turn, seeing the oldest forest boy. You felt your face feel a bit warm. “Oh, thank you, I didn’t know you were here” you said as you walked over to the palm tree to get your spear. Neteyam walked closer, just incase you need help with pulling out your spear.
You got a good grip on your spear and pulled hard enough, taking the spear out the palm tree. Neteyam watched as his mouth dropped, you were strong, of course you were, you’re the daughter of the Olo'eyktan. You smiled at him seeing his face. “What?” you giggled which made him change his face real quick. “Oh! Nothing, you’re just... really strong” he said shyly looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. You smiled at him “well, you can thank my father for that” you said walking back to your spot having him follow. “Would you like to try?” you asked making him nod, no questions asked.
You had been showing Neteyam how hold the spear properly, you didn’t mind having to position his arms the right way, you loved being close to him. Neteyam was trying to do what he was told but he was distracted by you, how close you were. When you’d instruct him how to properly hold it and positioned him, he felt butterflies in his stomach, he also couldn’t help but look at you, you were just so beautiful. “You ready?” You asked as he then snapped out of his trance and nodded. “Okay, now throw it as fast as you can” he did as he was told. The spear landed on the sand, a couple feet away from the palm tree. 
“Nice shot, soon you’ll be able to master a spear, you’ll be a...pro?” you said a bit confused, trying to use the word he used the other day. Neteyam chuckled seeing that were tying to use the word. “I’m not as good as you” he mentioned making you smile at up at him. You got a good look at his features again, you loved seeing him, you wouldn’t mind staring into his eyes for the rest of your life.
You then walked over to were your spear was breaking the trance you had on him. “Have you gone to your lessons today?” you asked retrieving your spear. Neteyam shook his head “no, not yet, shall we go?” he asked as you nodded, walking over back to him and leaving together to where the rest of the teens were.
As you both walked towards the small group, you heard a deep voice call out to you. “Y/n” you turned to see who it was, it was your father. “Coming!” You shouted back, turning to look at Neteyam “you go, I’ll catch up.” You said towards the tall na’vi in which he nodded and left towards the group, you walked over to your father, spear in hand “yes father?” you said looking up at the gentle giant. “Come, lets go for a ride, we haven’t gone in a while” you nodded, following him.
You both approached to his skimswim, Tonowari got on first then he helped you hop on, you sat in front of him holding tightly onto your spear and held onto the handle of the saddle. Then you both took off, the ride was silent but you like having a moment like this with your father. He’s a scary looking giant but he was gentle at the same time, you’d referred to him as a gentle giant a couple times since you were smaller. The skimswim dived underwater, taking you both down with it. It made you smile, since that the creature felt playful today. Your father looked down at you smile, making his chest warm up seeing his child happy. 
It reminded him when you were a child, the first time you were scared of the creature but you warmed up to it. Since then your father would take you on rides with his creature. When you went back up to the surface for a breath, you laughed “that was fun” you said petting the skimswim, making the creature wag its tale for being praised. Tonowari then asked “so, tell me, what are your thoughts on the Sullys?” he asked as you looked up at him. “They seem very nice, well, Neytiri is a bit scary like mother... don’t tell here I said that!” you playful warned your father making laughing at you. “I won’t” he said. “But, Neteyam, he is really nice to me, well all the sully kids are nice to me including Jake, but he is the sweetest.” 
You said feeling your face heat up, your father noticed this, he knew that look very well. He had that same look when he began to catch feelings for his now Mate Ronal. He hummed then talked “y/n? If that boy makes you happy, don’t let him go” he said catching you off guard. “Hm? what do you mean?” you asked a bit confused. “I know that look, you have the same look when someone is interested in another, I was young once too.”  Now you understood, he was referring to your feelings towards Neteyam. 
“You approve of him?” You asked curiously, he smiled down at you “just a bit, he still has to prove himself though, so far he is doing a great job” he said, this made you happy, seeing that your father seems to be approving of Neteyam. “Thank you father” you said smiling at him, he pulled you into a hug, in which you hugged him back gladly.
Neteyam was wondering where you were, the lesson was over, he was worried that you had got into trouble. Then he saw you with your father on his Skimswim approaching, he saw that you father told you something before you got off and swam towards the group, then he saw your father take off. “We were wondering where you were” your brother said as you finally reached them. “I was with father that’s all” you said. 
“Well, the lesson of today is over, so everyone is just going to do whatever” Lo’kak chimed in, giving his brother a look, making Neteyam glare at him. “That’s alright, you guys have a great teacher” you said refuring to your sister. “What about me Y/n?” Ao’nung asked giving you a look, in which you pretended to think for a moment “you’re alright” you said making the group laugh, in which your brother let out a dramatic gasp. “My own sister thinks I am alright? How outrages” he said chuckling.
Everyone swam back to shore, going their separate ways. Only leaving you and Neteyam, it was silent until you spoke “so, do you want to do anything?” You asked looking up at him. You noticed how he had a little smile on his lips “I mean, I did promise you a ride on my banshee” you got excited now “shall we do that?!” You asked, and he responded “if that’s what you want, then yes, lets do it” he said as he took your hand, now taking you were his banshee was.
When you got to where is beast was, you were nervous, you had never seen such a beast. “Don’t look at him in the eyes” Neteyam warmed you, in which you looked away from the beasts face, not looking at its wings. They reminded you of a skimswim but instead of being in the water, they were from the sky. Neteyam got close to his beast, petting him and calming him down. “Want to pet him?” he asked as you nodded, walking closer towards him, he took your small hand and placed it on the beasts head. You softly pet him, feeling him purr under your touch. “Wow” you said fascinated by the beast. “Cool right?” Neteyam asked as you nodded while still petting the beast.
Neteyam got on his banshee and latched into him using his queue, then he turned to you and helped you up onto the banshee. He placed you in front of him and guided your hands to hold into the settle. “Ready?” he asked as you turned to look up at him “I was born ready” you said, Neteyam then gave the cue to his banshee, then the beast took off onto the sky.
You held tightly onto the handle and closed your eyes, afraid that you may end up falling. Neteyam took a note of this, then he wrapped his free arm around your waist and help you tightly close to him. You felt your face heat up at the feeling of his arm. After a couple minutes, you opened your eyes and looked around. Seeing how high you are in the sky, you felt fascinated seeing how close you were towards the clouds and near the blue sky. 
When you looked down, you saw how small the village looked smaller, the air felt good going through your hair, it felt as good as when you go swimming. You slowly let go of the handle then stock your arms out on both sides, wanting to feel more of the wind. Neteyam was confused at first but he saw how relaxed you were, he still held onto your waist keeping you safe while his other one held onto the banshee. 
You didn’t even notice the time, it was going to be dark soon, the sun was setting. You had landed on a small mountain near the village, seeing the sun set. It was beautiful, even better with the person you were with. “I had fun today” you said looking at Neteyam who had a smile on his face. “I am glad” he said looking down at your small face, he just loved looking at you, he could just stare at you all day, forever if he could. He had a feeling that he needed to say, if he didn’t say it he’ll probably regret it later. 
“Y/n, I have been meaning to tell you something” Neteyam said shyly, now your face turned into one of curiosity. “What is Neteyam?” you asked as you felt his lard hands taking yours into his. “For the last few days, I’ve been having feelings, feelings I’ve never felt before, ever.” He took a deep breath, he felt like a fish out of water now, getting nervous. “Whenever I look at you, I feel like, I am at home” he said, his words made your face feel hot. “I see you y/n” he finally said it, he felt the weight on his shoulders fade, but he felt like his stomach drop, fearing rejection by the one who he wishes is his mate. 
Your face felt even more heated, he saw you, Neteyam Sully saw you like you saw him. Still a bit in shock at his confession, you broke into a smile. Squeezing his hand lightly and spoke back to him. “And I see you Neteyam, the moment I first set my eyes on you, I see you” you said seeing his face turn into one of relief. “May I...kiss you?” He asked shyly looking down at your small hands. You smiled at his shyness, softly lifting his head “Of course, Ma Neteyam” You said softly locking eyes with his.
Neteyam leaned down, placing both his large hands on your small face. You came closer towards him, closing your eyes, feelings his warm lips touching your cold ones. This felt nice, this felt right, you placed your smaller hands on his large ones that held your face. You stayed like that for a bit before slowly pulling away from him and looked into his sun colored eyes. Then he whispered only for you to hear. 
“Ma Y/n”
Taglist: @byunpum, @moony-artemis, @aonungs-tsahik, @rennyramen, @somewereinthegalaxi, @em-asian, @fanboyluvr, @mashiromochi, @eternallyvenus, @teenagemuffinlampcalzone, @ssophiebirkas​, @fanficblogs,  
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bedoballoons · 4 months
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HIII haven’t seen me in awhile, I had to get surgery doneeeeee. But I just saw the new mitsuri heandcannons and 👌🤩 beautiful.
well 8 have a new request, can you do when mitsuri shows off her INHUMAN strength? Also just to clarify, mitsuri does not gain much s weight at all because it mostly gets turned into protein cells….?… idk I forgot but she is just insecure because of what others might think of her.
SPOILERS: so mitsuri has the strength/ if not more than I a demon from that Uni. So her strength is about more than human. For me I think still lower of an adeptis but still INCREDIBLY strong for a human. Cuz during the final battle she rips off the arm of Muzan, the demon king which I think is almost/same strength of an adeptis???… idk
Hello!!! Welcome back! I hope you're doing well after your surgery and making sure to rest! Im sorry it's taken me awhile to get to your request but I will do my best to make it worth the wait!
P.s You didn't mention which characters you wanted to I just went with the characters that were in the past one! Hope that's alright <3
─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🍂
{༻~Mitsuri strengths~༺}
CW: Fluffy! Slight fighting mentioned! Reader is described as very strong! Established relationships with the characters!
Also in case you'd like to read my other demon slayer works they are all tagged in the linked post:
Here for more!
(Includes: Diluc, Lyney, Albedo, and Wanderer!)
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
𑁍༄Diluc:
"Watch out they are-" Dilucs words of warning would ring in your ear for only a second before the lawlchurl dashed at you, anyone else would have screamed in terror, maybe ran, but you stood still, taking the beast by the horns the second it got close enough. The giant thing was no match for you and within seconds you'd taken it down, standing ontop of it victoriously while your boyfriend stared at you in disbelief.
"Diluc-"
"You're beyond even my wildest dreams...I love you."
𑁍༄Lyney:
"Oh my..."
Lyney was in a trance...with his heart beating heavily in his chest and his head spinning with a type of yearning only you gave him. How had he never seen you in combat...
"Lyney are you alright? Did you get hurt?"
"No...I am just going to stand here for a moment longer and try to calm myself after that...truly enticing battle."
"Enticing?"
"My love, you have got me wrapped around your finger more than you realize..."
𑁍༄Albedo:
"Incredible."
You turned to face Albedo, wondering if he'd been hit over the head when you weren't looking, but to your surprise...he had a soft blush on his cheeks and a almost dazed with love expression, "Uh...you okay?"
"Yes, my apologies I just...you're so strong. I just witnessed you taking out a rather large group of monsters with no trouble at all and I must say, it's left me feeling a bit flustered...I'm in awe of you."
𑁍༄Wanderer:
"Just let me handle it!" Wanderer jumped in front of you, prepared to take out anyone who attempted to hurt you...ready to protect you till the end.
"You don't need to."
"What the hell are you talki-"
You maneuvered around him, using your strength to best your opponents one by one, leaving none able to do anything but run away begging for mercy. It was easy for you, unnatural for a normal woman...but Wanderer seemed more pleased than unhappy with it...even a little blushed.
"You...when did you get so strong hmph...next time I'm gonna stand behind you instead."
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧
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batlovestomarry · 1 month
Text
A portion of my thoughts on the tomarry t/b discussion going on since probably forever, as a bottom!tom lover
I want to start this off by saying I am asexual. I’ve certainly become more okay with reading smut over the past year, but because of my asexuality (and my slightly less resolute but still prevalent sex repulsion as well as my incomprehension of people’s shockingly stubborn preferences (that I have no issue with, but for obvious, previously stated reasons, I don’t fully understand)), my experience with seeing and interacting with all sides of the fandom, and my general lack of care for who is topping or who is bottoming in general, I can approach this topic with some semblance of rationality that isn’t affected by, you know, a staunch opinion on something that people are as passionate about as sex. This is an opinion that I haven’t always held, because prior to FULLY joining the tomarrymort fandom (to be more specific: being active on social media and meeting people who prefer either dynamic), I didn’t even have an opinion on it. I didn’t even know t/b discourse EXISTED. This is an opinion I have gained after seeing many many many people from both sides discussing it, so to anyone who disagrees with my opinion miss me with that “oh, well you’re just biased from only interacting with one side of the fandom and having always enjoyed bottom!tom” bullshit, lmfao.
That being said, it is abundantly clear that the issue for some people is more than just “untagged dynamics” as they insist. To this insistence I have two things to say: 1. If you are so bothered by one sex scene in the midst of a 200,000 word, novel length, beautifully written with a beautiful plot MASTERPIECE, perhaps don’t read untagged fics. Simple as that! Authors don’t owe you anything. 2. You know so damn well that your issue isn’t just untagged dynamics (which often only happen when authors are simply UNSURE about what they’re going to write in the future, rather than a desire to make fixed shippers angry and to fish for interactions and are NOT a personal attack or “protest” against tagging, contrary to what many believe).
Are you threatened by twink Tom riddle???? Are you disgusted by the concept of big strong masculine Tom being railed senseless ? Just asking the essential questions.
Furthermore, I see many fandom members persisting in the idea that non-fixed shippers call fixed shippers misogynists and that’s why “we” “start discourse” with fixed shippers (I am using the term “non-fixed shippers” to mean basically anyone who enjoys bottom!tom, because, regardless of whether you’re a fixed!bottom!tom shipper or not, it’s easier to do it this way. apologies for the generalization shdkdhdjdjd). There are many other posts that talk about this topic in much greater detail than I ever could, and I have to admit I’m not educated about the history and nuances of this to talk about it, so I’m just going to say that I genuinely do not give a fuck if you like bottom Harry or bottom Tom. I could not care less. I enjoy both. I’m not here to preach about whether it’s misogyny to prefer one thing another or not, because I simply don’t know. However, what I do know is that this whole thing about “bottom!tom enjoyers calling fixed bottom harries misogynistic” is a classic case of an echo chamber!! Non-fixed-shippers aren’t getting angry and upset at fixed shippers because you guys like bottom harry (which, according to them, is something we call a “misogynistic concept”!! who would have known!! i certainly didn’t know we were doing that!!). I haven’t honestly seen any instances of that. No, people are upset because you make “call-out” posts about authors and fics and blogs to say “oh, this fic/author is Bad Horrible Bad Bad because they didn’t tag t/b”, talk shit about people who mind their own business preferring bottom Tom (which can go both ways, but I see content from every side of the fandom and I have noticed that the non-fixed shippers side only really has an issue when the fixed shippers come in and start being senselessly rude. This irrational anger at those who have different preferences than you does tend to come from one side more than the other), and obtain a victim type mentality when an author of a long-form is either unsure about dynamics or just… doesn’t feel it’s necessary to tag. It’s as if certain people have a distorted view of what everyone is ACTUALLY upset about. No, we don’t care if you like Harry James Potter with a cock up his ass. As a matter of fact, I can say a lot of us do enjoy seeing that too!
I genuinely would like anyone to direct me to an instance of a non-fixed shipper calling out a fixed shipper over something that ISN’T retaliation for something ridiculous or simply mean a fixed shipper said about people just minding their business. Some people walk around here talking shit about anything that even dares to whisper the words “bottom Tom riddle” to their cultish circle of friends, calling them “freaks of nature”, “insane”, “detached from reality”, and “stupid bitches” (to name a few examples I’ve read). It is insanity. Some people just live in permanent delusion and insist that they are the poor victims here and that they can do no wrong and that they’re just “minding their business 🥺” enjoying their bottom!Harry yet FREAK OUT when they come across a bottom!tom fic/artwork/enjoyer who never even INTERACTED with them and act like they committed a grave sin of humanity.
In general, I feel it is just SILLY to get so fed up over seeing bottom Tom. the reaction that some people in this fandom have when they see anything that insinuates bottom Tom would make you think the person who created the art murdered 12 people and buried their bodies In a coal mine. It is ridiculous. Your inability to see past someone’s preferences and automatically labeling someone as “annoying” or “weird” over a fictional dynamic is bewildering.
I would like to say that this is not to resurrect any discourse!!! Nor is it meant with any disrespect to ANYONE in this entire fandom. I am appreictaive of every person here, whether I know you or not, because I love the tomarry fandom and I love how much effort artists and writers and everyone in between puts into keeping the ship alive! This isn’t intended as a target to ANYONE. I’m simply giving my opinion that I’ve held in for a long while now.
To sorta summarize:
Authors don’t owe you a certain dynamic or a certain tag in their own fic that they dedicated time, love, and care into.
Talking shit about people existing and enjoying different things than you is embarrassing behavior and makes you appear 14 years old to observers.
Public call-out posts for specific people doing absolutely nothing to you are weird as hell. Like why is this considered a normal thing to do.
Some people in this fandom have entitlement levels that are OFF THE CHAAARTTSSSS.
Telling people to “go outside and talk to actual gay people” over what is not “just t/b dynamics and/or preferences” but is actually normal, real life people being upset that you dragged their name through the dirt all because they posted once or twice about liking a certain character bottoming reeks of a lack of awareness. The moment a non-fixed shipper calls someone out for sending dozens of people to harass them over having a preference, millions of silly think pieces are created and non-fixed shippers are seen as “whiny”, but it’s somehow okay when the fixed shippers do it over much less?? 😭??? The hypocrisy!
How do I get it through people’s heads that NOBODY! OWES! YOU! ANYTHING!!! Everything that I’ve said has already been said time and time again and yet it still isn’t sinking in for many. You aren’t a god, you aren’t more important than anyone else here, you aren’t entitled to automatic perfect tagging on every fic you read. You don’t have to like it, but it’s the reality. There many tropes that people dislike in fics, but usually what they tend to do when it surprises them in an untagged fic is skip and move on with their lives rather than sending nasty anonymous messages, writing criticizing comments, tweeting about how much you hate this one untagged thing and everyone who enjoys this one untagged thing, etc etc
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chishiyaisasnack · 11 months
Text
Dare, part 3
Part 2 Part 4
A new chapter of the smut series is here! Thank you for all the support on the last two parts. This part is written in both Chishiyas and the readers pov. When you see ”——” it means that it changes pov. When you see ”————” it means it just jumps forward a tiny bit in time.
I’m writing and posting this on mobile so I apologize for any wierd formatting.
Disclaimer! This is pure smut and very nsfw. Stay away if you’re not of age or if you don’t like to read about it. This is fiction. Be safe and use a condom irl.
Tags: @chishiyashoodie @jimingotjams
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Chishiya was rarely a man on a mission but the time he spent trying to figure out how he could get a hold of sex toys were taking up most of his time right now. He could ask Kuina, but he would either have to tell her that he was going to use it on you, himself, someone else, or maybe that he was planning on gluing them to some of Niragis guns (which honestly sounded like a great idea for a later date). Either way, he was never going to hear the end of it. So that option was a no. Then there were the option of just asking the Hatter if he had some. If anyone would have a stash of toys it would be him. But that was also a clear no. The third option was to actually go and look for a store, and even though it was the most bothersome one it was the only option he could stand. So the next time he had to go to a game he decided to leave early and walk through the side alleys of Shibuya until he found one. And he actually did. Who knew that whoever created this world would keep sex shops in it? It was the first time he was in one and he was almost too overwhelmed with how many things that actually existed within the world of adult toys. Dildos in shapes and sizes he couldn’t even imagine, vibrators, rings, ropes, handcuffs and so on. Just the variations of lube to choose from was endless. He ended up picking out some of the simpler stuff, things that didn’t seem too complicated to use. He grabbed it and a handful of batteries and then hid it in a backpack that he later left outside the game area so that no one would see him carrying around a bag of dildos. He’d rather die than face that scenario.
When the game was over and he’d made his way back to the Beach he was exhausted, but put his remaining energy into getting back to his room unseen. One good part of making everyone dislike him was that nobody would ever stop to talk to him, just like he wanted. As soon as he got back to his room he locked the door, turned on the bedside lamp, sat down on the bed and got to work with figuring out how everything he brought back with him worked.
————
Finding you was easy. You were usually either in your room or on the roof, looking out over the city and trying to get away from the reality you all were in. He always started with your room, and today, once again, he found you staring at him with that wonderful, annoyed sigh coming out of your mouth when you opened the door to see who was knocking on it. He had really gotten in your head and he enjoyed it immensely.
”What do you want Chishiya?” you asked while he pushed his way between you and the doorframe without even thinking about asking if he could come in. He kicked off his flip flops and walked towards your bed.
”I took up on your offer and found some stuff” Chishiya answered with a smug face as he put down the backpack on the bed.
”My offer? Stuff?” you questioned to the sound of him openening the zipper. You turned around to face the bed and was met with him turning the backpack upside down and a flood of sex toys falling onto your bed.
Chishiya turned his gaze over to you. The face you were making was great, confused and shocked, but with a hint of amusement your eyes.
——
”What the fuck, Chishiya?” You could barely believe your eyes but you had to admit that you were curious. ”How? Why? When?” you asked, trying to take it all in.
”I found a shop on my way to the game last night” he started explaining, like it was the most normal thing in the world. ”You said you’d use them while I watched if I got some for you but I don’t know what you like so I got a few for you to choose from.” he proclaimed while pointing at the colourful pile he had created on the bed.
”A few? There’s like twenty of them there” You didn’t have to count to know that there were an excessive amount of dildos, vibrators and other stuff laying on the foot of your bed, spread out in all their glory.
Chishiya smirked as he sat down on the bed and waited for you to come over.
”So, which one - or ones - do you want to start with?” he asked, leaned his head to the side, and patted of the bed to signal for you to sit down.
”Okay, first of all, who said that I was going to use any of them?” you stated as you started to make your way to the bed.
”You did. You said that you’d show me as long as I didn’t make the toy myself. I didn’t make any of these so that deal is done.”
”You… I said I might use them. Might” you crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to look more assured but in reality you were just trying to grasp the situation. A rainbow of pleasure was layed out in front of you, and you had to choose if you wanted to try it out in front of the man you couldn’t stand most or the time, or if you wanted to throw him out of the window.
In the corner of your eyes Chishiya looked up at you, eyes dark and curious. He already knew that you would say yes, the glint in your eyes said it all. He just needed to coax it out of you. So he said, with that low, dark voice that he knew that you couldn’t get enough of:
”Then which one might you use for me, y/n?”
————
How did you end up laying down on the bed with your head on a pillow, in your panties and with a dildo in your hand? To Chishiyas great pleasure you gave in as soon as you heard that voice again - the fucker knew that you had a soft spot for that voice, even though it’s only been a few days since the first and only time he’d used it. He was of sitting on the egde of the bed with a front row view of your body and what would soon be the greatest show of his life.
”Aren’t you going to take those off?” he questioned and pointed at your lacy underwear still secured on your hips. The rest of your clothes were already in a pile on the floor but somehow you hadn’t mustered the confidence to take off the last piece.
”Mhmm” was all you could answer, still trying to get over the feeling of embarrassment that was occupying your mind. You had chosen to go with what you knew, a pink dildo type vibrator, smooth with a bent end that were there to put pressure on your g-spot inside of you. It came with a bunch of vibration settings and you had experience with them all, considering that you owned your own copy of that particular toy back in the real world. You held it with a crushing grip while gathering courage. You wanted to do this. You wanted to show Chishiya what he was missing out on. You wanted to tease him, cry out his name while he couldn’t do more than watch you. You wanted to drive him mad and then push him away to get a taste of his own medicine. However, the though about being watched like that was making you shy. Masturbating wasn’t new to you but it was still very private and not something you’d just share with anyone.
——
Chishiya sensed your hesitation and decided to try and ease your nerves. He moved from the edge of the bed and sat down next to you, legs crossed in front of him with one of his knees touching one of yours. He started by caressing your thigh, his hand soft and warm, leaving a burning trace after it when he moved it over you, from your knee and up to your hip. He squeezed the soft skin of your waist and then left a feather light scrape of with his fingernails over your stomach. He traced the goosebumps he created, using just the tips of his fingers to create even more of them. Then he moved down to the lace trim of your panties. He slipped his thumb right under it and ran it from one side of your hip to the other, never inching closer to where you wanted him but never going further away either. When he reached your other hip he removed his hand and shifted so that he could hover over you and placed a soft kiss right below your belly button. He kept kissing you, all over your stomach, chest and right under the curve of your breasts. Your body, and mind, relaxed under his warm lips and the ends of his hair that were tickling your skin whenever he moved. You ran your fingers through the soft strands, a gentle and caring touch that always took Chishiyas breath away. He was used to being treated roughly, his whole life had been pushing away feelings until he became numb. Sex was just sex, touching was just touching. There had never been anything more to it. But whenever you did something so small, so gentle, he couldn’t help but to let himself enjoy it and feel safe for a second. He wasn’t much for intimacy but you were helping him to open up to it bit by bit, even if he tried his hardest not to.
Chishiya left one final kiss on your sternum and sat back up again, watching your body move after him while he did so.
You were beautiful like this, completely submissive to his touch and ready to be molded into whatever he wanted. He was in awe over how trusting you were when it came to this. You were strong and nobody could cross you if you didn’t want them to. You were respected by everyone. Chishiya had seen it as a challenge to break you, to see that strong facade shatter, but no matter how much he had tried you were always a step ahead of him. You saw through the manipulation and the games he tried to play. He never thought that it would be so fucking exciting to have someone not fall for his mind games. You challenged him. In the end you were the one that got in his head, not the other way around. Yet there were this side of you that only he got to see. Vulnerable, intense, trusting. You gave yourself to him, not just with the physical part of the sex but the mental part of it. That was why he kept coming back. And now you were going to surrender again, and he was so turned on by it that it was almost painful.
”Chishiya…” Your whisper snapped him out of his thoughts and he met your eyes with his. Moving his eyes to your center he swiftly pulled your panties down your legs, making sure to drag his nails along your thighs as he did. Before the panties even hit the floor, he spread your legs, got inbetween them, leaned in, and buried his tounge between your folds. The mewl you let out went straight to his cock, making it strain against his swimtrunks even more than it already did. He tasted you like he was starving. Long licks followed by circles around you clit, just to go back down and tease your entrance and then do it all over again. You were so warm and wet against his mouth and the way that you rolled your hips against him while frantically grabbing his hair just fueled him on. He kept going, making you fall closer and closer to the edge that you were searching for. Every gasp and moan was like music in his ears, and he was the one playing you like an instrument.
He didn’t stop until he remembered why he did this to begin with - to get you to finish this yourself.
With a smirk he sat back up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while watching your heavy breathing and body shaking under him.
”I dare you to show me what you look like when you think of me doing that to you”
——
Fuck it, you thought as he watched you with that intense, confident stare that told you that he knew that you would take up on his dare, he was just waiting to see how long it was going to take. You put your foot on his stomach, which was unfortunately still covered by the hoodie, and pushed at him. He got the hint and moved back to the edge of the bed again, still sitting with his legs crossed and facing you. The smirk on his face grew bigger with every second and you couldn’t wait to get it off of him.
You sighed, moved around a bit so you laid comfortably with your head on your pillows and your knees bent. He had a perfect view of you and you kept reminding yourself not to be embarrased and instead give him more than he could ever dream of. You were going to blow his mind.
You started by slowly dragging the tips of your fingers over your stomach, moving your body with them just to show off, and by there way he looked at you it was working. His smirk was gone and his dark eyes were intense, and moving between your hand and between your legs like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to watch more. When you got to your mound you let them linger there, just for a bit, just to make him impatient enough to want to move your fingers by himself.
”I’ll do this on one condition” you said breathlessly as you kept inching your fingers further down, still not touching where he wanted you to.
”And that is?” You could tell that he was struggling to keep his composure and it gave your confidence another boost.
”You can’t touch yourself unless I tell you so” you continued. He put his hands in his pockets as a gesture.
”Good boy” you whispered. You weren’t sure if it was your praise, your fingers finally moving to your clit or a combination of the two that made Chishiya stop breathing for a second, but it didn’t matter. You fluttered your eyes closed, started moving one of your fingers in a circle around your clit and let out a needy moan. Your other hand was still gripping the toy but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing that part yet.
”I always start with my fingers” you informed him. This was going to be fun. ”I keep wishing it was your fingers though. They feel so good against me.” Chishiya swallowed hard.
”I want to get myself so wet that the toy slides right in. Just like your cock does.” you hummed, moving your fingers down to your entrance. ”Like this.” You slid two fingers into yourself while moaning quietly. You started to slowly thrust them in and out while pressing them upwards. ”I can never reach properly, your fingers feel so much better. They’re so long. So good.” you continued. When you opened your eyes you knew that your tactics were working. Chishiya was breathing faster, his chest rising and falling in a hurry. His hands were still in his pockets but you could see how hard he was holding his fists.
You removed your fingers and held them up so that both you and him could watch the wetness caught inbetween them as you inspected them.
”You always get me so turned on, Chishiya” you murmured while you were drying your fingers by dragging them along your inner thigh. His breath hitched at the sound of his name as he followed the wet stripe your fingers left on your soft skin. ”I have a toy in the real world, one just like this one” you continued while holding the dildo up to show him. His eyes sparkled with curiosity. ”It helps a lot when there’s no one there to fuck me”. You put it between your legs and ran it along your folds, getting it nice and wet. Chishiyas eyes followed it like a dog follows a treat.
”I wish it was warm, like you are” you purred, eyes on his. ”But putting it in, just like this,” you slowly inserted the dildo, closing your eyes and gasping dramatically, until you bottomed out. ”…always feel so good”.
——
Chishiya licked his lips, almost carnivorously. What he wanted was caught between wanting to watch you fuck yourself and wanting to fuck you himself. He went with the first option, only because he knew that he probably wouldn’t get another chance to see you do it, and he wasn’t going to miss out on this opportunity. But, damn, it was hard. He wanted to throw that toy out the window and fuck you until you couldn’t move. He wanted you to beg for him to take over and show you that he could do it so much better than you could yourself. His cock was aching and his fingers were going numb from how hard he was clenching his fists but he didn’t move a muscle, doing everything in his power to not disturb you.
He kept watching you as you slowly started to thrust the pink toy in and out of yourself. It was glistening, slick from your insides and Chishiya wanted it to be him so badly. Every time it bottomed out you gasped and moaned, the volume picking up with the speed of your movements.
”It’s never enough, ahhh, with just this” you gasped as you reached in with your other hand. ”I always need something more.” You started to circle your clit with your index finger in the same pace as you moved the dildo, increasing the amount of pleasure you were building up.
”I can never come with just the toy, I need this part too.” You punctuated your statement by putting more pressure on your clit and arching your back a little to the feeling it created. ”You’re the only one that has made me come without touching me here. Fuck, you feel so good inside me, Chishiya.”
A quiet groan left Chishiyas mouth before he could stop it. He knew that you were talking like that just to tease him, but it worked. He watched attentively at the way you were moving the toy, the depth, the speed, the power behind the movements. He noticed how you seemed to like it, small, deep and fast moving thrusts, almost as if you were grinding against it. The finger on your clit moved in circles, sometimes up and down just to get some change in sensation. He saw the way your thighs were trembling as you dug your heels further into the bed to get a better angle. Your eyes were closed and mouth open, gasping and softly moaning his name. Then you turned on the vibrations.
You started at the lowest setting, getting used to the intensity of the vibrations inside you. The small buzzing sound were filling up the silence inbetween the sounds of pleasure coming from your mouth.
”I always start on the lowest setting.” You explained between gasps. ”I can feel everything. Like you can when I moan around your cock.”
Chishiya almost choked on an inhale. A quick memory of your mouth around him flashed before his eyes and that memory went straight down to his cock, still aching and neglected. You had been so good, on your knees with your lips wrapped around him. He practically had to pull you off him. Good times.
You definitely noticed how flustered that made him and Chishiya didn’t even bother trying to hide it. His mind was trying to come up with every excuse to get some friction too. Even grinding into the matress seemed like a great idea. He couldn’t stop staring at the toy that was fucking you deeply, and imagining that it was him. He imagined you clenching around him, pulling him in deeper, grinding your hips on him the same way you were grinding against your hand right now. The desire he felt was overwhelming, his whole body hot and tense and craving release.
”I’m close” you panted as you sped up your movements. ”I wish I could come around you.”
He wanted that too, to feel how wet and tight you would be around him right before you came. His cock twitched again, precum leaking from the tip and staining his boxers. He didn’t even care about the mess, he just wanted to…
”Fuck, I want you to come inside me as I come around your cock.”
That was when Chishiya reached his limit. He couldn’t stand just watching anymore, he needed to be a part of it all. He used the small amount of willpower that he had left and instead of taking his shorts off, he leaned in and put his hand on the toy. Your eyes flew open in suprise, but you didn’t tell him to move away. Instead you guided him, let him get a feel of how you liked the dildo being moved, and then let him take over.
Chishiya used his other hand to push away yours and take over moving circles around your clit, soft but hurried movements, matching the speed of the thrusting.
He could feel how the toy moved inside you, how you became tighter and tighter around it the closer you got to your release. He watched the way your throat moved when you swallowed, the way your back arched, your mouth as you kept whispering ”yes, yes, yes” over and over again. Your legs starting to shake, your fingers gripping the sheets and your eyes fluttering closed.
Then he pulled the dildo out and stopped touching you all together. You let out what was almost a screech, and looked at him in disbelief.
”Why did you stop!?” you groaned, clenching your legs together. You had been a second away from your orgasm and he tore it away just as quick. ”I was going to come!”
”I know.” Chishiya answered, eyes dark and full of desire as he looked down on you. Your expression was lovely. Annoyed and flustered. Almost angry that he took away your fun. Well, now it was his time to have fun. ”Don’t worry, I’ll let you come. I’m just going to try something first.”
He spread your legs open once more and positioned himself between them before carefully inserting the toy again. He started with long, deep strokes, going all the way in and all the way back out until only the bent tip was still inside you. His eyes were laser focused on how your body took it in, and how it almost didn’t want to let it go.
”Chishiya, please…” You were trembling under his touch, grinding against him, trying to get him to do more. He looked back at your face and studied it while he kept moving his hand. You were panting, eyes half open and cheeks flushed red. And even though you were begging him, pleading for release, you still had that confidence in your eyes that made him so intrigued by you. You conciously surrendered yourself to him, but you could take back the power in a second. It was thrilling.
With his patience running low he decided to give you what you wanted and started to move the toy deep, hard and fast. You immediately let out a moan, almost as a ’thank you’.
”Touch yourself” he quietly ordered and you followed his words right away, moving your hand between your legs to brush your fingers over yourself. It didn’t even take a minute for you to be close again. Chishiya could see all the signs. Legs shaking, moans getting louder, desperate pleas falling out of your mouth. And just as he felt you clenching harder around the toy, when your whole body tensed and you were right on the edge, he pulled it out again.
The strangled cry you let out fed Chishiyas hunger for more, and when he swatted your hand away from yourself and was met with utter desperation on your face, he put the dildo back in. This time he didn’t wait, he did just as you liked right off the bat. You were close straight away, breathing like you couldn’t get enough air no matter how much you tried, legs kicking around inbetween the rolls of your hips.
”Fuck… please let me come.” You pleaded as you kept getting closer. Chishiya had other ideas.
”But you look like you’re enjoying yourself so much already..” he answered, eyes still glued on your face. He studied the way you bit your lip right after you moaned louder than usual, the way your eyebrows scrunched together when he started touching your clit again and the anger in your eyes when he pulled out the toy for the third time. And then the satisfaction when he threw the toy to the side and pushed himself in instead.
Chishiya didn’t waste any time. He drove right into you and fucked you the same way that he had with the dildo. He was bent over you, caged in by your arms clawing the hoodie off his back, and your legs crossed around his waist. You felt incredible. So tight, so wet, so fucking good that he could barely stand it. He bent his neck down, placing his lips right above yours as he kept rocking into you with all the power he could find within himself.
”Come for me” he whispered, feeling how your whole body shivered at his words. He wouldn’t last long either. Not when you were clinging to him like this, blurry eyes filled with desire and need staring back into his. ”I wanna feel you come around me. Come on my cock and I’ll come inside you.” Your eyes flew open and then he felt you tighten around his cock so hard that it felt like he almost lost bloodflow. Then you broke.
With an inhale so deep that it sounded like you were drowning, followed by a broken sob, you came. Your whole body spasmed, back arching so much it looked painful, and your head bent backwards into the pillows as you cried out, orgasm taking all of you with it. Somewhere in the middle you managed to kick Chishiya out of you so that you could squirm away from him and curl up on your side to get away from overstimulation while your body kept trembling. He watched as you clenched your legs together, your hands still gripping the sheets around you.
Chishiya was almost in shock over how absolutely amazing you looked. Your skin was glistening with sweat and your muscles danced under it with every pulse of what was left of your orgasm. You looked so satisfied, so fucked out, so wrecked. He sat back on his heels and just looked at you. The fact that he just blue balled himself was probably karma for the edging he’d just done to you. It was worth it.
”Shit” you hissed from the pillow you were currently sticking your face in.
”Feel good?” He asked, proud of himself for being the cause of it. He tapped a finger on your foot to get your attention.
”Mhmm…” you muttered back while turning your head up towards him.
————
Your whole body ached when you looked at Chishiya sitting next to you. Your legs felt like jelly, your stomach like you had the worst ab workout ever and your arms like they lost all function. How the hell had he made you come that hard? You thought you’d loose conciousness for a moment right before the orgasm hit. Not to mention what he said. It almost killed you on the spot. Sent you straight to heaven. Cause of death: Chishiya telling you to come on his cock. Fuck, he knew exactly what he was doing and it had worked wonders.
You felt Chishiya trailing the tips of his fingers along the curve of your hips, down to your thigh and then placed his hand over your knee. The warmth of his hand spread wherever he was caressing you, soothing your aching muscles with just a touch. He looked so proud of himself. You guess he earned it, so you let him have it without complaining this time. Then you looked down and realized that he was still rock hard, so hard it looked painful.
You gathered some strenght and rolled over so that you laid on your back again, then took a hold of his hand.
”Come here” you said as you spread your legs and pulled him back over you. His brows arched in suprise.
”You didn’t get to come…” you murmured as you raked your fingers down his chest and abdomen, feeling his breath hitch as you did. You continued downwards until your fingers met his cock, warm and wet under your touch. When you closed your hand around him he let out a shuddering breath and leaned his head into the crook of your neck.
You started to move your hand over him, up and back down again, slow and carefully. Your other hand was in the back of his neck, tangled in his hair, running through the soft strands. You could tell that he was trying to hide that he liked it but you always saw a glimpse of tenderness in his eyes when you touched his hair like that, and it filled you with warmth. Like you somehow managed to break through his cold outer shell and give him some comfort.
His breath was hot on your neck, quiet groans mixed with them as they reached your ear. You kept a slow pace as you stroked him, mixing it up by letting your fingers dance over him and slide your thumb over the head, which earned you a different reaction from him each time. His hips started to move with your hand as he rocked into the soft hold you had on him.
You wanted to praise him, tell him how good he had made you feel, but you had a feeling that it would be too much for him so you opted to show him instead. You wished that you had the energy to get on top of him and ride him nice and slow, to thank him for making you feel so good. Instead, you trailed kisses over his shoulder and up over his neck. You moved the hand you had in his hair, down his back and along his sides, lightly stroking in time with you other hand.
He cursed as he came, spilling hot and wet over your stomach. You jerked him through it, getting him all over you as you kept moving your hand, drawing out every ounce of pleasure in him. When his cock had stopped twitching you gave him a few more soft strokes before letting him go.
After a few breaths to steady himself he sat back up. Both of you looked down on your stomach and chest, seeing white liquid sprayed all across it. For some reason you really liked the view. He never came on you because he really didn’t like to leave a mess, no matter how many times you told him that it wasn’t gross to you.
Without thinking you moved a hand down and let one finger brush over one of the traces he had left, still warm and wet against your skin.
”Why would you do that?” Chishiya looked down on you with furrowed brows before he started to look around the room, probably looking for something to clean you up with.
”Why not?” You pointed at your bedside table drawer and he crawled right over to pick up some tissues that you had laying in there.
”You’re strange.” He leaned in over you again and started to clean you up, bit by bit until he was satisfied.
”You’re self concious. It’s nothing wierd you know.” You cocked you head to the side and continued to watch him as he threw the paper in a waste basket next to the bedside table.
With an eye roll he stood up, went over to the sofa you had on the other side of the small room and got a blanket that was thrown over a cushion. He went back to the bed and threw it over you instead.
”Thank you.” You crawled down under the blanket until only your head popped up from under it.
Chishiya sat down on the edge of the bed and put his clothes back on. His back was just as beautiful as the front of his body. He had some beauty marks sprinkled across it, smooth skin and muscles flexing under it as he moved around. Unfortunately the hoodie was back on all to soon and your ogling had to stop.
Once he was done getting dressed he spun around so that he was facing you. His hair was a bit of a mess, some strands hanging wildly out of place. His face looked tired, but in a ’I just had a great time’-tired way. The stupid smirk was back on.
”It seemed like the toys were a great idea after all.” He looked down at the discarded pink toy that was laying next to you before he looked back at you with a face full of pride. Ugh, you were going to do this again, wouldn’t you?
”I guess.” You answered, not giving him much of a reaction.
”The kick was a bit unneccesary though”.
”What kick?” Worry started to form in the pit of your stomach. You didn’t remeber kicking him. Had you hurt him?
”You kicked me off you when you came.” He said with a huff. ”You could have just told me to back off, you didn’t have to kick me in the stomach.”
The worry you had felt went away immediately when you saw his smirk turn into a grin.
”Don’t scare me like that, I thought I hurt you.” You sighed and shimmied around under the blanket to get more comfortable. You turned on your side and let out a content sigh. Your body felt like mush and you couldn’t wait to take a long nap. A shower would have to come later.
Chishiya raised an eyebrow at you before moving his way up the bed. When he got close enough he leaned down and trailed light kisses all the way up your neck, making you shiver under his touch, until he reached just below your ear. His breath was warm as it spread over your cheek and you couldn’t help but to close your eyes and relish in it. He ended it with a whisper, in that low voice that went straight to your core and lit your insides on fire every time he used it.
”Just tell me when you want to show me the next toy. We have plenty to go through.”
277 notes · View notes
fleursroses · 1 year
Text
Of boys and boxes
Holy shit I reached 250 followers yesterday!! Genuinely I want to thank you so much. So, in honour of that here's finally the fic I said I'd write back in like October (whoops). It's inspired by this post by @ggomos-maribat​, so if you're wondering why you got tagged in this, it's because you asked to in case anyone wrote something for it. I hope it lives up to your expectations!!! I will also post this on AO3 and reblog with the link. But for now, enjoy <333
However Marinette thought it would be to be the Guardian of the Miracle Box, she couldn't exactly say it would even come close to reality. Sure, the whole thing surrounding Hawkmoth that got her in the situation in the first place generally sucked a lot, but in a way she knew what she could expect. Then Shadowmoth happened, and Monarch, who eventually all turned out to be Gabriel Agreste, the fucking dad of her longtime crush and partner Chat Noir. Yeah, talk about killing the mood. 
Okay, if she was being honest, at that point the feelings for either had been fading for a while, mainly due to all the stress being Guardian put on her life. Sometimes she couldn't help but resent Fu for all that he, although not necessarily on purpose, had forced her to go through, from losing her childhood so early without any guidance, to making her feel like she wasn't allowed to have feelings without putting the world that was laid upon her thin shoulders at risk. It never felt fair though, because she knew Fu had had to go through the same thing. At least she still had some sort of support network. 
Still, the whole thing left her too traumatised to really want to pursue Adrien any further, or anyone else for that matter. This was fine by her, and although he was a bit disappointed, Adrien understood and respected her feelings on this matter. She was glad she could still have him by her side, despite it not being the future they had both dreamed of. 
However, being left with a bit too much time on her hands, Marinette had decided to focus more on her duties as guardian, wanting to fully uncover its secrets without the threat of having all the kwamis being stolen from her again hanging over her head. And as much as she wished Fu had trained her more, she didn't think he had known about... certain connections the miracle box had to various organisations either. Wasn't that just her luck?
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It had been 3 years since Hawkmoth had been defeated, and Marinette had spent most of that time travelling all over the world. Every so often she would return to Paris again though, to meet up with her old friends. They would go out for drinks and Marinette would tell all about the classes she followed online to get a business degree, as well as tell about where she had been and what she had done as Guardian. She had to admit, it was nice to finally be able to talk about being Ladybug, even if the group who knew was still only really small. Or rather, it was nice to have the possibility. In reality, she was so used to being secretive, out of sheer habit she sometimes forgot to mention things other people would undoubtedly have told their friends. 
It would go like this: One of the times she was back after a particularly long 5 months away, Marinette invited Adrien, Alya, Nino, Kagami and Chloé to hang out at the bakery with her. Just as she was telling a story about the crazy commission she had gotten from one of Jagged's friends, something she occasionally did to help keep her afloat while she was abroad, she got a call from an, to her friends, unfamiliar name. Apologizing to the group, who assured her it was fine, she answered. Her and the guy on the other end held a short civil conversation, ending with Marinette promising she would drop something of his by his place at her earliest convenience and then ended it just as quickly. When asked about the other guy, she just said "Oh that's just Damian, I met him in Tunisia," and then immediately went back to her story again, as if nothing had really happened.
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Yet, this Damian continued to show up in conversations after that. Over time her friends gathered that although they had met in Tunisia, he was apparently American, had a big family and a preference for the same martial arts Marinette did. She didn't talk about him all that much, mostly just mentioned him every so often, like when Alya accompanied her to her favourite fabric store while she was still in the neighbourhood. 
"And so this creep comes up to me all macho like I didn't just pepperspray one of his friends right in front of him- Wait Mari check this green satin out, don't you think it would look nice on Adrien?"
Marinette came over and inspected the fabric, and while picking up the roll noted "I think it's a bit too dark for him, but I think it would look really good on Damian instead. He has this weird thing about green as a family colour or whatever, maybe I can make him something?"
Alya looked curiously as Marinette whipped out her sketchpad and sketched out a whole suit while lost in thought. She didn't take it personally, she knew this was just how the other girl could sometimes get when particularly inspired. Interested, she noted that it had been the thought of Damian that did it this time. But then again, Marinette's mind sometimes worked in the strangest ways, and Alya knew better than to pry or interrupt her. So, she just picked up the story where she had left it, knowing it would eventually find its way into Marinette's brain.
"Anyway, at the end the dude was totally crying and I hadn't even done much yet, you'd totally be proud of me girl-"
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In the end, Alya couldn't shake her curiosity. Trying to google the guy didn't help much when she didn't have a surname, and look, she just wanted to know the guy was alright. Not that she didn't trust Marinette's judgement, on the contrary, but it would be nice to have a bit more to go off on. Asking Marinette straight up didn't help much either, only getting her vague answers. But as she offhandedly mentioned it to her friends when Marinette was away again, she found they were also eager to bring up their curiosity. 
"We don't even know what he looks like! But she likes him enough that she makes him fancy clothes of her own volition!" Chloé lamented dramatically. Although she would never admit it, she was a bit miffed she couldn't find out anything about Damian either. Even her sources couldn't tell her anything, and they usually never failed her. 
"I think we should just be happy she is designing again, no matter the reason."
 They all fell silent at Kagami's words, remembering how bad the period after Hawkmoth's defeat had been. It was only then Marinete's cracks had visibly begun to show to all of them, partly through several months void of the usual creative outlets and other emotions in general. It had been... rough, to say at the least.
"Still though. I don't think she has designed this much for one person since, disregarding Jagged's commissions. And she doesn't even talk about him! I mean, when I'm alone with her she always talks about all of you like you hung up the moon. I don't think she has talked about one person she likes as little as... as Luka."
Nino looked at his girlfriend incredulously. "Are you seriously suggesting Marinette has a crush on Damian? She barely ever even sees him."  
Alya simply shrugs. "I mean, probably not, but it can't hurt to think of all bases, right? But okay, what do you think about this: he is a secret assassin and Marinette made him normal by the power of friendship and now she has to constantly like, check up on him to make sure he doesn't go back to the darkside. No, listen, hear me out-"
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Somehow, although they didn't know it, reality had been even stranger. Or well, if they had met years ago Alya could maybe even have been right, but as it was Damian hadn't been part of the "dark side" for a very long time, nor was he in danger of going back. Maybe that would have been sort of preferable to Marinette, but she still supposed her situation wasn't that bad, even though, yes, she was technically speaking kind of stuck. Trying to explain this to her friends was... a feat. 
This is all to say they had found out. It happened when she had invited all her friends over to New York to attend a fashion show she had been allowed to design a small piece for when accidentally gaining attention from yet another designer. When afterwards they were just taking a stroll through the city, all talking excitedly, a beautiful woman had come up to Marinette and taken her aside to talk without paying any heed to her friends. For some reason, they started talking in Mandarin. It wasn't a very long conversation, which ended by the woman patting Marinette on the head and walking away again. 
When she turned around, she found all her friends staring at her, dumbfounded. 
"What?"
"How the hell do you know Talia Head?" Chloé demanded. 
Somehow, Marinette only looked at them blankly, like she had never heard that name in her life. Like she hadn't literally just been talking to the actual CEO of LexCorps. When Chloé told her this, recognition slowly dawned on the other girl.
"Right, Talia. I forgot she's doing that now. Hm. I wonder who she has designing for her, I should ask her..." 
This time, she pulled out a notebook the others hadn't ever seen before, filling it with the strangest characters. There seemed to be some structure to it, possibly making it a language, but it wasn't one any of them had ever seen before.
Later, Marinette would chalk it up to her unfortunately being distracted, but when Alya asked her how she knew Talia then, if it apparently wasn't for her currently being one of the most well known business persons in the world, she just replied "She's my mother-in-law?" like this was a known fact. 
As several voices shrieked "YOU'RE MARRIED??" Marinette suddenly remembered she had not, in fact, told her friends about her marriage yet. 
"I mean, yes, more or less? It happened when I went to China again, and I met this League of uh. League of Assassins. But their leader knew a lot about the Miracle Box and he told me he would share everything with me if I married his grandson. Also that I would probably die if I didn't, but honestly I had hit a dead end so I really needed his knowledge, you know? It's fine though, I don't even know if it's like, legally binding. Also we didn't have to do anything besides be married, so. Pretty good deal actually!"
"HE WHAT-" "ASSASSINS?" "MARINETTE"
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It took a lot of time for her friends to settle down, and to accept that she was fine and not under constant threat of being assassinated. It was a whole ordeal. Eventually though, it was Adrien who settled it by quietly asking her whether her husband at least treated her well. 
"I mean, sure, I guess? He's chill. Also, I am provided with so much more knowledge now, I feel like you're not properly considering that pa-." 
She was interrupted by a strange noise coming from her phone. She glanced down, fully prepared to ignore it for the more pressing matters at hand, but upon seeing who had texted her she decided to reply anyway. 
"Hang on, he's texting me, I need to answer this."
Random American dude???
My family just found out that I got married. They're being really annoying about it.
Snorting, she texted back, knowing her friends were still watching her every move.
Vous
Funny how that works, my friends did too just now
I blame your mother tho
She then showed her phone to her friends. "See? Damian and I are fine." 
It was Alya who made the connection first.
"Wait, if you've actually been married to Damian all along, and your mother in law is Talia Head…"
"MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG DID YOU MARRY DAMIAN FUCKING WAYNE?"
Taglist:
@nerd-nowandforever @prettykittytanjiro @toughluna @meira-3919 @taewinterbear95 @maanae @hammalammadamdam @swaggermcjagger @countessdragon @starscreamlover @snorlaxly-tired @illusionwolfwriter24r8 @kaitense1 @wildcardjoey @dramatic-squirrel @leftguard66 @mimblizzy @mikami1992 @tinybrie @theg0ddesspersephone @psychicdelusionwerewolf​ @folk-ever-lore​  
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shuadotcom · 1 year
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Polaroid Love | KMG
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Summary: The prospect of meeting Mingyu’s family has you feeling a new emotion that you’ve never felt with anyone else. 
Pairing: Kim Mingyu x GN!Reader
Genres & AUs: Fluff, slice of life, established relationship au, college au
Rating: PG15
Warnings: Profanity, a make-out scene, mention of something suggestive but otherwise just fluffy
Words: 4.8k
Note: This was supposed to be posted on Mingyu’s birthday, but life happened so here it is now! Thank you to my wonderful beta @playmetheclassics​​ ily Indi mwah! 😘 This banner took me like an hour to make in canva and I’m very proud of it thank you very much. Anyway I love Mingyu 🙂
Net tag: @kflixnet​​
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“Please? It'll be fun!”
“No.”
“Please? You just have to show up and talk to a couple of my family members. It's not a big deal.”
“Mingyu, no.”
“Pleaseeee!”
“I said no, Gyu!”
A chorus of shushes is heard after your outburst, along with glares from the other library patrons. Bowing your head quickly, you whisper apologies while your boyfriend giggles from next to you. A light pinch to his thigh stops him, though.
“Ow!” Mingyu whines, rubbing the sore spot. “That hurt! You're always so mean.”
Rolling your eyes at his dramatics, you stare at your book again. “Don’t be such a baby.”
He’s about to respond when you’re interrupted by your best friend and roommate nearly colliding with your table.
“Did you guys hear!?” Jeongyeon is out of breath as she harshly whispers at you.
“Did we hear what, that you're in love with Park Jimin? The whole campus knows.” You laugh and dodge the pen she throws at you.
“No, smartass! We're going away for spring break.”
“Who is we?”
“All of us! You two, me, Soonyoung, Hansol, Junhui, everyone. Jeonghan was able to convince Seungcheol to help drive us all to the beach for the break.”
“How the hell did he accomplish that? I remember when we brought it up a few months ago, Seungcheol said he’d rather do a pop quiz every day over break before taking all of us anywhere.”
Jeongyeon shrugs. “Who knows? You know Cheol can never say no to Jeonghan.”
“How many vans do you think we'll need to get?” Mingyu asks, leaning over the table in excitement.
Jeongyeon taps her finger against her chin in thought. “Maybe two? There’ll be fifteen of us, so it depends on how many seats they have.”
“Oh, only fifteen? I would’ve thought Jimin would be coming,” you tease, watching her get flustered at another mention of her crush’s name.
“I - I don’t even know what he’s doing for the break.”
“Ask him and see if he’s free. Maybe if you're lucky, you guys will get to sit next to each other for the whole drive.” You watch Jeongyeon's eyes widen, and you can practically hear her mind running at full speed in thought. “Well, I'll leave you with that thought. I'm off to lunch.” You stand up and gather your books with Mingyu right behind you.
“Poor Noona. You’ve left her in there to stress about how she’ll ask Jimin-hyung on the trip," he chuckles, throwing an arm over your shoulders.
Rolling your eyes, you wave off his concern. “She’s fine, I promise. She’s been into him for about two years and frothing at the mouth for a chance to get closer to him. He likes her too if the way he practically drools over her whenever they are within a five-foot radius of each other is any indication. One of them needs to suck it up and ask the other out because they're torturing themselves.”
“If it’ll help, I can talk to Jungkook about it during class later and see if I can get him to mention it to him.”
“Good idea, Gyu,” you praise him, placing a kiss on his hand that’s dangling over your shoulder.
He squeezes your shoulder in response, pulling you closer to his body. “Don’t worry about it. The only thing you need to worry about is picking out an outfit.”
Skeptically you crane your neck up to look at him, brows furrowed. “For what?”
“For my family reunion.”
“No.”
“Please?!”
“I said no. I'm not going.”
“But-”
“No.” You reach the cafeteria then and slip from Mingyu’s embrace. He has a class in the building next door, so you know he won’t pester you anymore for at least an hour.
“Baby!”
“See you later, Gyu!” You blow him a kiss and slip inside before he can say anything else.
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The rest of the week is crammed with last-minute assignments, everyone making plans for spring break, and Mingyu bringing up the family reunion any chance he gets.
It's not that you don’t want to go because you dislike Mingyu's family or anything. You’ve never actually met them, which in itself is the real problem. What if they don’t like the way you look? What if they don’t think you’re good enough for Mingyu? What if they end up hating you completely?
You’re not usually one to worry too much about what people think of you, but the idea of anyone as close to Mingyu as his family not liking you fills you with an immeasurable amount of dread. You’ve been dating for nearly a year, and you care about him more than anyone else you’ve ever been with. You’re lucky enough to have been able to fall into his friend group so easily and get along with everyone, but his family is so much deeper than that. You’re not sure you can handle someone like his mom taking one look at you and deciding you’re not right for her son.
You have a few weeks before the reunion, so you figure if you can deny him enough times, he'll forget about it and stop bringing it up. So far, your plan is failing miserably, though, as every other day, he’s bringing it up in person or sending you message after message about it.
You’ll be the first to admit that you have a problem opening up and talking about your feelings. You tend to bottle your emotions up inside, keeping them tucked close to you and have been that way as long as you can remember. Because of this, you’ve yet to tell Mingyu the real reason you keep turning him down, at least not yet, not until you can gather the courage to dive into your feelings more.
It’s been a week since you’ve been trying to deter the reunion conversation with Mingyu, at times even turning down hanging out with him completely to doge the topic, citing you being too busy with assignments, which is half-true. Running from your feeling is the other half of that excuse, but he doesn’t need to know that yet.
After your last class on Friday ends, you head to the library, hoping to finish your homework before meeting Jeongyeon for dinner and starting the weekend. While you’re on the last question of your sociology assignment, a noticeable shadow appears over your table. When you glance up, Wonwoo, Mingyu’s roommate, is staring down at you with a stoic expression.
“Yes?”
“Mingyu is very distressed.”
“And?”
“And you should fix it. He's been moping around our room all day and blowing up the group chat nonstop. He keeps whining about how you won't go to his family reunion and meet his family.”
“He's a drama queen,” you mumble. Wonwoo sighs and leans over the table in front of you. Wonwoo is probably one of the guys in your large group of friends you were closest with, besides your boyfriend, of course. The tall, dark-haired man seemed intimidating and cold when you first met, but his looks are deceiving. Wonwoo is nothing but sweet and funny and has proven to be a great listener when you needed to vent when Jeongyeon or Mingyu weren’t around.
“He really likes you, you know. He doesn't shut up about you when you're not around, and it kind of makes the rest of us want to strangle him.” Wonwoo lets out a laugh and looks back at you as you avoid his gaze.
“Look, he wants you to meet his family because he's serious about you. He's only dated three other people in his whole life, and none of them met his family beyond maybe his parents and sister here and there. He never even mentioned bringing any of them around his entire family, so think about that.” He stands upright after his words, giving you one more look.
“I don’t want to pry, so I won’t ask you to tell me why you won’t go, but just know it’s more important to him than he’s probably said to you.” With that, Wonwoo sends you a wave that you feebly return before leaving you alone in your corner of the library.
The thought of just how important the reunion is to Mingyu hadn’t been something you thought about. And the knowledge of you being the only partner of his to meet his whole family has butterflies taking flight in your stomach and dread washing over you. Something new and foreign stirs in your chest at that moment, which has your mind whirling.
Quickly, you stand up and gather your things, sending a brief text to Jeongyeon to bring dinner to your shared room because you have something very important to discuss with her.
Your dorm building is just as busy as it usually is when you get inside, with students kicking soccer balls in the hallways, leaving their doors open while they blast music, or loitering in the halls and chatting. You take the stairs to the second floor to successfully dodge Joshua, who you glimpse heading into the elevator down the hall. Wonwoo had only cornered you to give you a small lecture, but you’re sure Joshua won’t hesitate to bring it up and try to press a little as to why you keep turning Mingyu down.
When you round the corner of your hall, you spot Jeongyeon already there, hanging outside your room while conversing with one of the younger men in your group of friends.
“Beat it, Chan.”
“What?” A look of surprise flashes over his face as he looks between the two of you.
“You heard me. Leave.”
“But earlier this morning Jeongyeon-noona said I could eat dinner with you guys tonight!”
“Yeah, well, Jeongyeon and I have something very important to discuss, and you're not invited.” His intense pout instantly makes you feel bad.
“Sorry, Chan,” you sigh. “I just really have to talk to her about something that’s kind of an emergency. Can we take a rain check?” You soften your tone, hoping to lessen his disappointment.
Chan glances at Jeongyeon, who shrugs. “Alright, fine,” he relents. “But you have to buy me a snack next time for being mean.”
“Deal,” you roll your eyes at both him and the smirk on his face. “I think your boyfriend needs some company anyway. Bye!” He meets your gaze, chuckling at the face you give him, which you know is one of exasperation. You wait until he’s down the hall before turning to face Jeongyeon.
“I guess you weren't joking in your text about something ‘life-changing and imperative’. What's going on?” She asks as she unlocks the door.
“Well, I haven't told you something because I just wanted to keep it to myself because I hoped it would go away soon, but Mingyu is stubborn, so it hasn't.”
“Which is exactly why you two are meant for one another.” You shoot Jeongyeon a look and snatch one of the bento boxes from her hands.
“Could you hang back on the sarcasm while I talk? And just let me get it all out first.”
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead. I'm all ears.”
You each sit on your respective beds facing each other, and you let the word vomit flow. You recount Wonwoo’s words about the family reunion to her and what he had told you about Mingyu’s past partners, and how much this all means to him. You also let out your feelings that you’ve been trying to keep to yourself - about your insecurities and worries about making a good impression and the guilt nagging at you every time you turn Mingyu down.
“This is just so important to him, and I can't even do this one thing! The thought of all of those people there judging me for my major or the way I look or the outfit I decide to wear, or literally anything about me! It's way too overwhelming, and every time I think about it, I go into panic mode, and I start to feel anxious and itchy. I’m terrified that they won’t like me, Jeongyeon.
“What if they try to tell Gyu to break up with me or something? What if we get there, and he sees me being weird and awkward, and I make a bad impression, and he decides that I’m not who he thought I was, and he wants to break up with me on his own? But then I’m so guilty about disappointing him and not going, and I feel like I lose whether I say no to him or whether I go and then fuck everything up. I just don't know what to do!” You let out a groan and flop backwards on the bed. Your forgotten dinner, now getting cold, jostles on the bed next to you.
The room is quiet for a few minutes before Jeongyeon speaks. “You love him.”
You sit up so quickly that your head starts to hurt. “What did you say?”
“I said you love him. That's why you feel so guilty and are so confused. I've known you since we were teenagers, Y/n. You are one of the most stubborn people I have ever met. When you don't want to do something, you simply don't, and you don't give it much of a second thought. Of course, you consider doing things you don’t want to for me and your other friends, but this is different!”
Jeongyeon hops off her bed to sit next to you, offering you a comforting back rub. “You feel the way you do because you love Mingyu, and you’re scared that his family won’t like you, which will break your heart, and you don’t want to lose him.”
You don’t respond to her, so she continues.
“If you want my opinion, I think you should go to the reunion. If you want to stay with Mingyu and keep this relationship going, you’ll have to meet his family eventually. You can’t hide from them forever if you stay together. Plus, I’m willing to bet he feels the same. Mingyu looks at you as if you are an actual ethereal being and like you’re the center of his world. I don’t think you have to worry about his reaction when and if you decide to tell him the truth about everything you’re feeling.”
Jeongyeon’s expression is soft as she looks at you, waiting for your response and giving you time to process everything.
Do you love Mingyu? Sure, you love spending time with him. He’s the most attentive, sweetest, kind-hearted partner you’ve ever had. He pays attention to every detail about you, whether your likes and dislikes or silly, arbitrary things. Every day with him feels like a dream, and you often wonder how the hell you got so lucky to end up with a boyfriend as amazing as Kim Mingyu.
Being with Mingyu is the happiest you’ve ever been, and the idea of loving him - of him being the first person you’ve ever been in true, genuine love with is uncharted waters for you. The mere idea of losing him leaves a gaping hole in your chest - the hypothetical of that situation alone makes your eyes water. Not hugging Mingyu? Not holding hands or sharing laughter with him? Not seeing his beautiful, perfect face in the morning as he snores just the tiniest bit? You and Mingyu haven’t been together for that long, but any world where you have a Mingyu-shaped piece missing from your life isn’t one you ever want to think about.
As if sensing you deep in thought, Jeongyeon gives you a final pat before leaving you alone. She grabs the rest of her dinner, letting you know she’ll be back later and mumbling something about “finally having a breakthrough and needing to take care of something.” You bid her farewell with a simple nod, reaching for your bento box to quiet your grumbling stomach. Eating in silence, you try to sort through the jumbled mess in your head, digesting the new thoughts and feelings you’re experiencing, all for the first stressful time.
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You stay holed up in your dorm room the rest of the weekend, thankful now more than ever that you managed to get a schedule with only weekday classes.
Mingyu, being the caring boyfriend he is, knows something is wrong on Saturday morning right away. When you wake up, you have a few texts from him, asking to see you and take you out.
His desperation to check in with you and see you are obvious, even through written words, which makes it hard to turn him away.
[Y/n] I want to be alone this weekend, okay, Gyu? I’m not feeling very social.
[Gyu💖] Are you sure? Is everything okay?
[Y/n] Yeah, I just want alone time, okay? 🙂
[Gyu💖] 🥺
[Gyu💖] Okay, baby. Whatever you want ❤️
You can practically hear the pout in his text, and it feels shitty to turn him away, but you need more time. Since Friday night, when Jeongyeon had planted the seed in your brain, you decide it would be best to avoid Mingyu just to get your thoughts in order.
Jeongyeon passes along the message to the rest of your friends that you’re fine and just need some alone time. It’s the only thing that quiets your phone and stops your various group chats from continuing to go off. Everyone is kind enough to respect your wishes though, allowing you to spend the two days drowning in your thoughts and eating almost half of your and Jeongyeon’s instant ramen stash. It was probably dramatic to hide away all weekend, but it helped you wake up on Monday with a clearer head.
“I hope you plan on talking to Mingyu today,” Jeongyeon says as you get ready for your Monday morning lecture. “I saw him yesterday when I was eating lunch, and he looked like a lost, sad puppy without you there bossing him around. All he needed was a rainstorm and a choreography routine, and he would’ve looked straight out of an early 2000s break-up song music video.”
The image makes you laugh just a little before frowning and feeling bad for leaving him hanging all weekend.
“I am, I promise. I just needed to get my shit together.”
The two of you head out across campus to your shared lecture hall. Mingyu has class is in the building on the other side of campus, so you won’t have to see him for a couple of hours, giving you plenty of time to calm your nerves.
That idea is dismissed when you get inside and spot him by your classroom door. Mingyu’s long legs allow him to reach you in an instant, gently grabbing your arm and whisking you around the corner and into the stairwell. You can already tell he’s unhappy just by the look on his face.
“Are you breaking up with me?” Is the first thing out of his mouth.
“What?”
“I asked if you’re breaking up with me. I know you said you needed time alone, and Jeongyeon told us all the same thing, mentioning that you were just taking a couple of mental health days, but does that mean that you’re breaking up with me and were just taking time to think about doing it?”
“Mingyu, I-”
“Is it because I keep pressuring you to meet my family? You don't have to!”
“It's not that I just-”
“Am I too annoying? I swear I won’t bring it up again! And if there’s anything else that I do that’s too annoying or immature,  just tell me, and I'll change, I promise!"
“Mingyu, you don't understand. I just need to-”
“No, you don't understand! I really like you, okay, Y/n? I like you more than anyone I’ve ever dated. Just going two days without being around you killed me! That, on top of the fact that I couldn't even call you or see your face, made it so much worse! I just wanted to break down your door and come in and hold you in my arms even though you'd probably be yelling at me the whole time. I just hated the thought of you being unhappy, and I couldn’t do anything about it.” Mingyu looks almost near tears as he takes in a big breath.
“I don't care if you say that it's too soon, but I just need to say that I think I'm in love with you! You don't have to feel the same yet or say it back, I just needed to say it. Even if you think I'm foolish or that I don't know anything, and-”
“Kim Mingyu, I love you too!” You yank the front of his shirt and pull him closer.
“What did you just say?” Your forehead rests against his, his brown eyes wide as he gapes at you.
“I said that I love you too. That's what I was doing this weekend. I needed time to think about my feelings and figure out if I was in love with you, and I am. I felt bad about saying no to meeting your family, and I felt like such a terrible partner, and I couldn't figure out why, but I was able to think about it, and goddammit, I love you. I love you a lot, and it scares me because I don’t think I’ve ever truly been in love, but I know that I love you.”
You barely have the chance to catch your breath from your speech before Mingyu is leaning down and stealing the air left in your lungs. He presses you against the wall as your arms wind around his neck, and you sigh into the kiss, indulging in the familiar, comforting taste that is Kim Mingyu. He drags his tongue across your bottom lip, asking for entrance which you immediately grant him. The kiss easily deepens as your tongues intertwine, and his grip on your waist gets tighter. If you hadn't needed to breathe, you would've spent the rest of the day exactly the way you are.
Mingyu pulls away, allowing you to breathe, both of you panting, flushed, and smiling like idiots at each other.
“You love me,” Mingyu whispers.
“I love you.”
“Say it again,” you roll your eyes at the wonderful, wide grin he shoots you but repeat yourself, punctuating it with a quick kiss on the tiny mole on his nose.
“And I love you too.” Mingyu murmurs, nuzzling his nose against yours before capturing your lips once again. Your hands move to his hair, fingers grabbing at his soft strands.
“Ahem!” A sudden voice makes the two of you spring apart. When you glance to the doorway, you see Jeongyeon waiting, her face serious and her arms crossed. “Hey, so this is cute and all, don't get me wrong, but we have a lecture to get to like now, Y/n.”
Groaning, Mingyu peeks over his shoulder at Jeongyeon. “Fine, I'll let go.” When he turns back to you still in his arms, a different expression clouds his features. “But this evening, after your last class, I'm coming to your room, and you're all mine.” His words and the look in his eyes make your face heat up, already knowing what you have to look forward to tonight.
“O - okay,” you croak, clearing your throat. Mingyu gives you one more kiss before slipping past Jeongyeon and waving at you both down the hall.
“Ugh, please don't tell me you guys are going to have sex in our room. What about me?!”
You snap out of the trance your boyfriend left you in and side-eye your best friend. “What about you? Why don't you go do the same with Jimin while we're busy? I may have barricaded myself in our room, but I still have a way of knowing things. Like how Professor Ok caught you two making out and having quite the heavy petting session in the back of the cafeteria yesterday.” Jeongyeon’s jaw drops as her cheeks begin to turn bright red.
“How did you know that?!”
“I have my ways.” You smirk as she follows you into your lecture. Even though you were a recluse all weekend, you still checked your phone from time to time. A celebratory message from Seungkwan in your group chat with a few other nosey friends confirmed the news and everyone was relieved to finally have confirmation that Jeongyeon and Jimin had admitted their feelings for one another.
“All I know is, it's about damn time.” You practically skip to your seat, leaving Jeongyeon stuttering out an excuse behind you.
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“I'm not moving this van until you all have your seat belts on.” Seungcheol eyes all of you in the rearview mirror and waits until he hears the click of seat belts to pull out of the campus parking lot.
After much debate, all of you decide to spend the week in a hotel near the closest beach to you. Winter has officially left, and spring is now in its place, with weather warm enough for shorts and tank tops. You had all chipped in to rent a fifteen-passenger van and are leaving campus at eight in the morning, thanks to Seokmin’s nagging about getting the best spot on the sand.
Once the van starts to move, Jeongyeon turns around to the row of seats behind her and lays her head on the back of the seat. You look up from your phone to meet her gaze, already knowing what she’s going to ask.
“So, how was the reunion? I didn't get a chance to ask you since you guys got back.” You and Mingyu had gotten back from his parent's house the night before when Jeongyeon was asleep, and with the excitement of getting ready to leave this morning, the two of you hadn’t gotten much time to talk about it.
“It was really fun, actually. His family was super nice and accepting. He threw a fit at one point because his little sister and one of his cousins were attached to my hip. His mom threatened to show me any and every embarrassing picture of him she had if he didn’t stop acting like a baby and that worked.” You let out a quiet snicker, glancing at Mingyu, asleep on your shoulder.
“She was seriously so sweet, though. And the only time I embarrassed myself was when we were going into the house to help her with some of the food, and she said something along the lines of ‘When you two get married,’ which made me trip, and Gyu had to catch me before I ate dirt.”
Jeongyeon stifles a laugh, covering it with a cough. “Well, hey, at least she likes you! You were worried over nothing.”
“Yeah, you’re right. But oh! I take it Jimin had other plans for break?”
She flushes, nodding. “Yeah, he already had a trip booked with his friends, so he couldn’t come. We have a date planned for when we both get back to school, though, so I’m excited about that.” A dopey smile plays on her lips, and you coo at the gesture.
“I’m so glad you two finally admitted that you like each other!”
“Me too!” Soonyoung pipes up from next to Jeongyeon. “Do you know how annoying it was to hear Jimin gush over you in dance class every week? I swear, every time we were partnered up, his first questions were always about how you were doing and if you were seeing anyone. I can only answer back ‘fine’ and ‘no’ so many times before I lose my mind!”
“Shut it, Soonyoung! I thought you were asleep!” He ignores Jeongyeon and turns in his seat to face you.
“I hope I don’t have to hear him talk even more about how great she is! I don’t think I can stand fifty minutes of him running how mouth about how much he likes her and all the dates they go on and how good she is in bed and -”
Jeongyeon sucks her teeth, snatching his tiger plushie from his hands and hitting him over the head with it a few times. “You know all about running your mouth, don’t you?! Stop talking about my relationship!”
“I’m sorry, stop it! Y/n, get her!”
“Sorry, I can’t hear you!” Popping your earbuds in, you gesture to your now occupied ears, dramatically shrugging at your friends.
Mingyu stirs next to you, and you can’t help but brush away a stray piece of hair from his face. The commotion barely phases him as he adjusts to wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face into your neck.
Aside from Jeongyeon threatening Soonyoung’s life, everyone else is either chatting quietly with each other or sleeping, the energy low from getting up so early, but you’re nowhere near tired, still feeling full of warmth and admiration for Mingyu’s family and how well they treated you. Instead of trying to sleep, you settle for laying your head on top of Mingyu's and simply enjoying the warmth of your boyfriend the man that you are wholeheartedly in love with.
397 notes · View notes
rice-enjoyer · 2 years
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Shed your kindness and composure ; like overworn snake's skin.
a/n: i post super inconsistently, apologies! harbinger time! smashing pots and pans harbinger time! of the sagau first impressions after realizing you are a morally grey god and not that sweet and kind one they tell tales and sing songs about. Mond version! Inazuma version! dottore and childe get like 2x more content than everyone else because they have blorbo rights cw: gn reader, sagau, so every juicy tag that usually comes with it! cult-ish, obsessive behavior, power dynamics, mention of blood. tartaglia is very battlesexual and 100% wouldn't mind dying by your hand. other than that, fluff! SIGNORA IS ALIVE ; I AM IN DENIAL! alrecchino gets shy, not clickbait, not proofread, as usual! sumeru archon quest(chapter III act II), spoilers in Sandrone's part!
There is always that special someone who knows just a bit more about you, excluding the gods. Between the harbingers? Il Dottore. You entrusted him with fixing you after your accidental arrival in Teyvat. Your godly powers couldn't heal, so after realizing you can teleport to places at will, he was the first person you went to, right after the gods. You deemed that your gruesome death would interest him the most, and as always, you stand corrected. Whatever sense of loyalty he had for the Tsaritsa (or anyone)has now been given over to you. All of it. So now, you have a very powerful, albeit sometimes a little possessive, devoted follower - him. A few vials he filled with your radiant golden blood while you were a bit light-headed, is a secret he will take to the grave, however, he does not plan on dying any time soon.
Since you can easily manage (manipulate) and keep some rowdier types calm, Pierro thanks you profusely for babysitting his immature colleagues. Which can happen very often. You reminisce about the past, usually accompanied by a hot tea. If either of you needs to get work done, and you happen to be within Snezhnaya, you always settle in his office and chat while having your dominant hand get cramps from all the signatures you both have to sign.
Another faithful little follower of yours is Sandrone, in a similar way to Dottore. She is just fascinated by all aspects of you. Asked you many, MANY times if you could inhabit the body of one of her Katheryne's. Or any other creation she has made. Or even herself? You protest, but accidentally say that possession is possible, it would be a somewhat painful and violating process for the receiver. Oh no, she is even more interested now! You have gotten yourself into quite a situation, how will you resolve it? In the name of science, will you do as she begs you to?
He tries to get access to all of those documents regarding archons, even Celestia, Pulcinella is just so very bothered that there is information he simply can't get his hands on. So he tries a tactic as old as time, a potential exchange of valuable knowledge of Teyvat that he has accumulated, hoping that maybe, someday you will share what the other nation's archons are planning.
When Scaramouche is not his usual bratty and bickering self, that means he must be accompanying you somewhere. Trying to be on his best behavior to not piss you off, you find it rather adorable. He, on the other hand, is a little cautious of you. You do remind him of someone rather unpleasant in his life. A proper and mostly ruthless ruler. You are not above acting on revenge. He has seen what that looks like. Once, an ordinary person was trying to impersonate you for some quick and easy mora. He saw sparks of fire dancing in your eyes. They still have burn marks.
You do find yourself in the presence of Pantalone rather often. Maybe because you picked up on some similarities between the two of you. He has those sky-high walls of protection, fake performances, compliments, and smiles. But it all crumbles into dust when he's alone with you. Freely speaking his mind, you realize how desperately alone all of the poor harbingers are. They sacrifice everything willingly for the Tsaritsa, but you still pity them a little. Plus, you find comfort in talking with most of them, it's a win-win type of situation.
La Signora, she is a force to be reckoned with, but so are you. She takes great satisfaction when you two walk somewhere and see the fear in the people's eyes. You do remind her that you have an image, a rather fake one to upkeep. And so, you banter with the Crimson Witch as if you were old friends, kind of feels like you already are. She has shown to be a reliable friend, and she's very easy to talk to, what's not to like? She had to do what she had to do, you reassure her that you would've burned the land of freedom into the ground if you heard your lover die on the battlefield.
If you happen to be in Natlan, Il Capitano will gladly take the time to teach you some self-defense or basic fighting skills. You do prefer to walk around the world, rather than use teleportation waypoints. There is always an agent accompanying you throughout Teyvat, Capitano was the first one to think of that. There is no ulterior motive behind practicing the art of battle, he just wants to make sure that even though you are a god, you would be harmed as little as possible. Unlike a certain ginger-haired harbinger.
Speaking of, Tartaglia takes pride in standing next to you, being your human shield, if the situation were to call for a fight. He loves the attention around you. And specifically your attention. You sparred with him exactly once, for good reason. You beat him, he was too... focused on his red blood on you, you pointing your spear at his throat while he's on the ground, the both of you being sweaty and very muddy. "Here I naively thought fighting you would be a challenge. Get up." - you let your weapon down gently onto the ground, giving him a hand. Your honest kindness in that situation has him smitten with you. He thought you would be merciful enough to kill him, right then and there - he really is like a puppy, trying to impress you with his latest tricks.
Oh, once you meet with Columbina, she is not letting you go until it is absolutely necessary, like having to travel into another nation for more debates and giving out directives to the archons to not cause another war. But sometimes even that doesn't stop her, sitting on your lap during one of those said meetings, the archons horrified, some intrigued, but all jealous. What they would do in that position. But you do pick favorites, you made that very clear. A very human trait of yours. To be fair, you are human, mostly.
You feel awkward around Arlecchino's orphanage at first, you never were good with children, remembering your own childhood. She would never worship any measly deity. But that soon changed when you spent an afternoon with her, chatting well into the evening. Whenever she has the time, she loves to show you around Snezhnaya. Walking next to each other, your hands collide. She starts stuttering and apologizing, while you laugh, she's really quite a character. She goes on about how anyone would get embarrassed if they made eye contact with you, let alone their hands would accidentally touch yours. You try your best to not tease her about it, but it has proven to be too difficult of a task.
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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year
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Broken Glass (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x OC Reader)
Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley - Elvis (2022)
Read More Here - Broken Glass Masterlist! (Coming Soon)
Prompt: You are Dolores Cannava, a young Italian-American nurse desperate to make her own way in the world and break free of her dysfunctional mafia-connected family and traumatic past. Elvis Presley is just returning home from his two-year stint in the Army, looking more handsome than ever, but feeling the pressure to successfully find his way back to the stratospheric career he was forced to leave behind. In a twisted turn of fate, Elvis finds himself in the hospital where your paths cross. Forced to harbor his potentially career-ending secret and needing to escape a terrifying future in New York, you are pulled into his unusual world and must endure a begrudging fake relationship with Elvis in order to protect his reputation (and his life). 
TW: Hospitals, illness, allusions to abuse. Some historical inaccuracies.
Tags: Fake relationship. Slow burn. Angst. (Sort of) enemies to lovers.
Rating: PG (ish?) (but this story will eventually be Mature/NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)   ||     Word Count: 4.6k
A/N: It’s good to be back, my lil’ darlin’s! I’ve missed y’all! Broken Glass has a decidedly different feel than Pink Scarf, and I really hope that you enjoy it. This will be more of a slow burn and not quite as smut heavy as PS, but we’ll get there eventually! The original character of Dolores can also be read as Reader, but her back story needed to be pretty specific so I decided to go the OC route. I’m excited to dive into some of my favorite tropes with this one, and hopefully I can do them justice.
Delicious 1960 Post-Army E has me in almost as much of a chokehold as ’69 E, so it was only right that I give him the attention he deserves! 
As always, I love and live for your reactions, comments, asks, and reblogs, so thank you in advance for both reading and giving another one of my stories a chance! 
I imagined it with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat.
Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.
I’ve used the tag list from Pink Scarf, so please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!
Story is cross-posted to my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those reading experiences! 
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Bellevue Hospital
New York City, New York
March 1960
“Nurse Cannava!”
The shrill call of Charge Nurse Irma Hunt grates on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but you don’t dare show it on your face. Instead, you take a deep breath through your nose and hurry over to the severe woman.
“Yes, Nurse Hunt?” you say as evenly as possible. You’ve only been an official Registered Nurse for a few months and cannot afford to make a wrong step with this drill sergeant of a woman. You’d rather be extra deferential and placating than looking for a new job, no matter how much you want to run in the opposite direction any time she calls your name.
She looks at you critically, peering down over her glasses with her sharp stare. “Nurse Calhoun was pulled away to surgery before she was able to finish her other duties. I need you to change the sheets for our VIP patient while he’s upstairs for x-rays. I need you to be quick. In and out, no funny business, you understand me?”
“Of course, Nurse Hunt,” you nod frantically. It’s the middle of the night, so it is strange for the patient to be doing tests at this hour. Though if they are trying to keep his identity under wraps, it makes sense that they would choose an hour where less people were involved.
“And absolutely no telling anyone about our patient. We must uphold the strictest confidentiality, now more than ever,” she adds with a glare.
The threat is clear:
Don’t mess this up.
“I understand.” Curiosity of who it could be itches at the edge of your mind, wondering about this VIP that has the woman in more of a harsh mood than usual.
Maybe it’s Ricky Nelson or Mario Lanza or Marlon Brando, your mind titters, but it’s probably just some stuffy politician. You figure it’s better to have low expectations and be pleasantly surprised than to have high ones and be disappointed.
Ever the realist.
Regardless of who might be, you don’t have time for silly schoolgirl fantasies. There is a job to do, and you best be getting to it before getting into trouble.
You scurry away to gather fresh linens, then make your way back to one of the few private rooms on the floor. Most patients are relegated to the open wards here in Manhattan’s biggest hospital, but there are special cases, such as this, it seems, where a more private setting is needed.
There’s a large man at the door, keeping watch, and he looks you up and down with narrowed eyes longer than you’d like, sending a chill into your gut. But this is nothing new. You hold your ground, straightening your spine and lifting your chin.
“Nurse Hunt asked me to change the sheets,” you say, clipped. He smiles, as if in on a joke you’re not privy to, then opens the door.
At 20, you are the youngest nurse on the ward. People, especially men, tend to underestimate you, but you have something to prove and no time for nonsense. Graduating high school early, you were thrilled to be accepted to Bellevue School of Nursing, one of the best programs in the country. The four-year experience had been grueling, but since you had to live in the dormitory, it got you out of the house and away from your damned father and his cronies.
In the process, you discovered that helping people truly is your calling. So, while young, you are good at your job and take it seriously.
This is why you hurry in and start stripping the bed as quickly as possible. As curious as you are as to who this mysterious man might be, getting the job done is much more important than snooping around the room.
You tug and pull the sheets as taut as possible, perfect hospital corners making the bed crisp and neat. Your attention to detail and cleanliness are a sense of pride, so spending a little more time than necessary making sure the bed is perfect is worth it. The intention isn’t to linger, but if this VIP is as important as everyone is making him out to be, you want to make sure everything is done right.
Finally, after inspection, you gather up the dirty sheets and make your way around the bed, just as the door opens to the room.
Damn. You weren’t fast enough.
Your gaze cannot help but drop to the man in the wheelchair. A bandage is stuck at the edge of his thick chestnut locks. Although he is obviously ill, his sapphire eyes rimmed with dark circles and his pallor pale, there is absolutely no mistaking who the VIP is.
America’s biggest rebel-turned-G.I., the one and only Elvis Presley.
You are not a fan, but your heart unwillingly kerthunks against your ribcage anyway because he’s still one of the most famous men on the planet, and you are shocked at how pictures barely do the man justice.
Dear lord, even sick, he is wildly gorgeous in person, you catch yourself thinking. His essence seems to fill the room, pushing all the oxygen out, because suddenly you can’t catch your breath. Suddenly, you understand why millions of ladies fall faint at his feet.
Surprised to see someone in his room, his eyes rake up your body from your toes to your little white nurse’s cap. You hold back a shiver as those famous bedroom eyes finally land on yours.
“Well, hello there, little bird.”
Little bird? You know you shouldn’t let it bother you, but the pet name rankles you in its familiarity. You’ve been called all manner of things by all manner of men, both in and out of this hospital, but this is a new one, and though certainly not the worst, it bothers you all the same. Perhaps it’s because he acts as though he is owed this familiarity and expects you to be grateful for it.
His lilting Southern drawl is creaky and hoarse from illness, making him a little less mystical, which allows you to quickly recover your wits. Trying not to show annoyance on your face, you straighten your posture while moving aside to let the orderly push Elvis into the room and help him onto the bed.
“Goodnight, sir,” you say politely, as pissing off this VIP will do you no favors, but your eyes harden at the way his gaze openly lingers on you. You attempt to skirt around him as quickly as possible, but the room, though private, is not large, and the wheelchair and the two men take up much of the space.
“Hey, little bird, wait!” he calls out before you even reach the door.
Stopping in your tracks, your infernal heart continues to pound in your ears. All you want is to get out of this suffocating room, but you inhale and turn around instead. The orderly gives a wink before sliding out of the room behind you. You resist the urge to huff.
“It’s Nurse Cannava, sir,” you say firmly, trying to take the edge out of your voice, albeit unsuccessfully. “Is there something I can help you with?”
That sly, signature grin spreads almost bashfully across his face and if you weren’t so perturbed by the suggestiveness of it, you might keel over from its brilliance filling the small space.
“Call me Elvis, little birdy,” he drawls, blatantly ignoring using your given name, as requested. “Could ya be so kind as to get me some water? Please?” he asks kindly, which is far more than you expect.
“Yes, certainly, sir,” you reply, equally ignoring his request to call him Elvis. You turn on your heel and escape as quickly as possible before he can ask any more of you.
A breath shudders through you once you’re out in the hallway. You hadn’t realized you were holding it. You are as bothered by this reaction as by the fact that you must get this man water and go back in there without showing him that you are in any way affected by the fact that he’s Elvis Presley or that his behavior has you decidedly on edge.
He’s a patient, you remind myself silently, and this is part of my job. A job I desperately need to keep if I want to get out of that nightmare of a house...
This thought steadies you more than anything. You’ll do almost anything to be in a position to permanently leave home and to do so without having to marry that mook Gianni. And hell, you’ve dealt with much worse in terms of patient behavior. Getting Elvis water is objectively the easiest thing you’ve had to do all shift.
You can’t seem to help straightening your starched white apron before taking a deep breath and marching back into the room, pitcher of water and a glass in hand.
“Here you are, sir,” you say, trying not to sound terse, trying not to look directly at him. It’s almost like the feeling that you shouldn’t be looking at the sun, yet your eyes want to do it anyway. Even without looking at him, you can sense his heavy gaze lingering over you. You blush involuntarily, the blooming warmth a betrayal of your modesty. In response, you place the pitcher and water down on the table near him and turn to flee as quickly as possible without making it seem like that’s what you are doing.
“Hey, now, little bird,” Elvis says, catching the hem of your skirt, halting your exit. “Why ya tryin’ to fly away so fast?”
“Oh Madone,” you mumble under your breath, your Italian heritage making an appearance as you roll your eyes to the heavens before turning back around and pulling the fabric from his long fingers. Heat washes over you in an angry wave, turning your blush a deeper shade of red.
“I have other patients to tend to, sir.” It’s not a lie but sure feels like one with the strained way it falls off your tongue. Your lips press into a thin line of a smile, desperately trying not to glare at him but catching his eyes with your unamused ones all the same.
“Elvis,” he corrects me, maddingly, that smirk playing on his lips, a playfulness in his glassy, feverish eyes. “And I was just wonderin’ if ya could pour me a cup, since it’s all the way over d’ere?”
The water is on the table right next to the bed, and he certainly looks able to pour it himself, and you both know it, but he just smiles, playing this infuriating game, wasting your time.
Finally, you sigh and relent. It’ll be faster to just do it than to try an argue about it. He’s a patient, after all.
You still feel his eyes on you as you turn sideways and dutifully pour the water out. His presence, especially when focused on you alone, feels incredibly overwhelming, mixing a healthy dose of trepidation in with your irritation. You keep your face as neutral as possible and hand over the glass.
What you don’t expect is for him to touch you, his fingers circling over yours, blazing hot from the fever he looks to have. You loathe the way your heart flips in your chest when he looks up at you through impossibly long, feathering lashes, those gemstone eyes of his expressive beyond imagining and conveying more than just playfulness.
“Thank you, little bird,” he whispers. The sound swirls up your spine, breaking through your annoyance just enough to see the blithe, handsome boyishness of him. It promises an unfamiliar temptation, one you’ve seen only in movies and never willingly and truthfully experienced for yourself. Your mouth goes bone dry.
He is dangerous, you think, but not because you are afraid of him in a physical sense (and lord knows you’ve feared too many men already in your short lifetime). No, his is a danger of an entirely different sort. He makes you want to trust him, and in your experience, men are never, ever to be trusted.
“Nurse Cannava! What are you doing in here?” Nurse Hunt’s shrill admonishment startles you out of the hypnotizing stare of the teen idol, causing you to jump back as though he was on fire. You let go of the glass, slipping your hands out of his, but he does the same, and the glass spills water all over the newly changed sheets before tumbling to the floor where it shatters with a crash.
The tinkling of the glass explodes in your head, and a latent and all-too-familiar fear associated with the sound freezes you to the spot. Try as you might, you cannot stop the involuntary trembling that rushes through your limbs. Air attempts to fill your lungs, but the breaths are too short and shallow to do any good. The wave of panic threatens to undo you, right here, in front of both your superior and the most famous man in the world.
It's just broken glass. I’m safe. I’m at work. He can’t hurt me here. The mantra plays in your head over and over as you clasp your shaking hands in front of you, trying to pull yourself together before anyone notices anything amiss.
“I told you to be quick and quiet, not go around cavorting with our patient!” Hunt hisses harshly, glowering, but it snaps you out of the trance-like state that has overtaken you.
Now, instead of fearing things that cannot hurt you here, you are suddenly afraid for your job. Nurse Hunt is a terrifying and formidable leader and being on her bad side means a world of hurt going forward. Your heart feels like a hummingbird’s, fueled by anger, embarrassment, and lingering panic. You resist the urge to give Elvis a scathing look, knowing it will likely just result in more trouble. Instead, you quickly raise your eyes and catch a strangely curious yet concerned look from the man.
“I-I’m s-so sorry, Head Nurse,” you finally stammer out, realizing she is waiting for you to say something. “I’ll clean that up right away.” You start for the bed but are stopped by the crunching glass beneath your practical white nurse’s shoes.
“Ma’am?” Elvis croaks out suddenly, gently, capturing the older woman’s attention. “I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t mean to be a bother, but it wasn’t the young lady’s fault at all. I asked her for the water. She was just doin’ her job, and I distracted her. It’s my fault.” His bedroom eyes widen with an almost childlike deference as he looks at her through those long lashes.
Elvis oozes an effusive charm that makes the formidable woman’s hardened veneer crack. It might not be obvious to one who doesn’t know her, but her gaze softens ever so slightly.
You almost want to roll your eyes and scoff, but the strange thing is that it doesn’t feel at all like a put-on. It first strikes you as some sort of malevolent manipulation, like he wants to impress you somehow by getting you out of the mess he got you into, but he seems nothing but honest. He looks truly sorry.
You stand stock still, hands still clasped in front of your apron, needing to know your fate before moving. Nurse Hunt finally sighs, having weighed her options of denying her VIP’s puppy dog eyes or making your life miserable.
“Alright, Mr. Presley. Nurse Cannava will help you move to that chair there so she can change your sheets again and clean up this mess,” she says through pursed lips. “And you let her be and do her job, you hear? You’re not the only patient on the ward, young man.”
“Of course, ma’am. I really am sorry about the mess,” he says softly, seriously, nodding.
“Quickly, Nurse!” Nurse Hunt barks. Picking your jaw off the ground, you hustle to the other side of the bed, still amazed he was able to soften the old goat in any way.
It’s not until your arm is around his waist while the other steadies him in a well-practiced and trained move that you realize that you are holding a barely clothed Elvis Presley. A brief but decidedly improper and embarrassing thought flirts in the back of your mind as you help him into the chair in the corner. His skin is hot with fever, easily felt where your skin touches his and it radiates through his thin hospital gown. It burns into you, through you, melding with the unnerving, angry fire that already consumes you. You can feel his eyes on you but don’t dare to look at him, not with Hunt watching, making sure you don’t drop the prize patient.
You suppose you are glad for the fact that your cheeks were already on fire from humiliation, so neither can see just how uncomfortable and ashamed you feel right now. The way emotions flash rapidly through you, you’re amazed you can concentrate at all, but you manage to deposit the singer in the chair, unscathed.
Nurse Hunt huffs a little, but seems satisfied, and takes her leave, on to the next crisis.
A relieved but shuddering breath releases from you and without looking at the man in the chair that has caused so much trouble tonight, you jump to removing the sheets you made so perfectly not minutes ago.
“Hey, little b—Nurse Cannava,” Elvis catches himself, “I-I-I meant what I said—I really am sorry I made things harder on ya.”
You refuse to look at him. Instead, you grit your teeth and yank the sheets off, furious. Storming out of the room, you quickly retrieve a new set of sheets and a broom and dustpan for the glass on the floor.
“Aw, don’t be like that,” he mutters as you stomp back in the room, dutifully ignoring his presence. You busy yourself with the glass first, sweeping it into a pile, then bending over to sweep it into the dustpan. You realize too late that you’ve just effectively but unwittingly shown Elvis your rear end. You can practically hear the smirk on his face, which is confirmed once you flit your eyes over to him.
A new wave of heat flushes over your cheeks, but you pretend you don’t notice his leering. Nothing good has come tonight from you paying any sort of mind to what Elvis is doing. You go about your business as swiftly as possible, counting the seconds before you can remove yourself from his suffocating presence.
“You just gonna ignore me now, honey? Come on, I-I-I said I-I was sorry,” he stutters petulantly after another minute of silence.
Your response is to tug the sheets as tight as you can. You move around the other side, hating that your behind will be in his face while you finish the bed, but it can’t be helped. You grit your teeth and focus on smoothing the sheets instead of the hole Elvis is burning through your backside.
“Well, at least I got a nice view in the room…of the city, I mean,” he chuckles. The innuendo is crystal clear.
You whirl around and want to slap that stupid grin right off his pretty face. You’ve never felt so unprofessional or off the rails as you do with this man.
He’s a patient, he’s a patient, he’s a VIP patient, you remind yourself, trying to take calming breaths. But try as you might, you can’t seem to keep your damn mouth shut, that Italian temper flaring, boiling your blood.
“Eyes up!” you snap your fingers at him. “I have work to do and a job to keep, and talking with you only gets me in trouble, so leave me be!” Blood throbs in your ears as you attempt unsuccessfully to keep your fury at bay.
“Ooh, I heard New York cherries were feisty, but I hadn’t the occasion to see it for m’self,” he muses, thinking he’s just about the funniest thing since Lenny Bruce.
“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” you mutter under your breath, fuming, turning around to finish the bed. Once it’s done, you breathe a sigh of relief and make to leave.
“Hey, little bird, you want an autograph or somethin’?” Elvis asks, still vying for your attention for whatever reason.
God, the ego on this one. “I don’t want anything from you.” You can’t help but turn towards him, even though you know you should leave as fast as your legs will carry you.
“Not a fan, huh? Bet I can change your mind,” he says, his left eyebrow quirking up suggestively. The man is as gorgeous as he is infuriating.
“I prefer Ricky Nelson, so no thanks,” you shoot back at him.
He fully laughs at that, a big, hiccupping, musical sound that under any other circumstance might be attractive and endearing, but now it just seeks to make you angrier. Your seething seems to amuse him all the more, however, as he erupts into more peals of laughter.
“You’re somethin’ else, lil’ bird,” he wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. But his face suddenly turns alarmed as he can’t seem to catch his breath, the laughter turning into gasps.
“Elvis, enough of that. Let’s get you into bed.” Your training immediately overrides whatever negative feelings you might have towards the man. “Try to take slow, deep breaths,” you say calmly, crossing the room quickly.
His face turns red and panic starts to bloom in his darkening, churning eyes as he wheezes. You help him up and out of the chair, and he shudders, leaning all his weight on you. His breathing is too labored and he’s burning up, and you’re not sure he’ll make it the short way to the bed.
Indeed, the two of you only make it a single step before his long legs give way, and it’s all you can do to brace his tall, lean body and keep him from hitting the tile floor hard. Instead, you slide down together, and you make sure to cradle his head as he collapses.
You don’t panic. In fact, you are the calmest you’ve been since meeting the superstar because this you know you can handle. This is what you were born to do.
“We need some help in here!” you shout out to the ward before turning your attention back to Elvis, now sprawled on his back on the floor. You quickly grab the oxygen mask from his bedside and turn the nozzle to get the air flowing.
“Elvis, you’re going to be okay. I need you to try and breathe deep for me, as deep as you can,” you say, fitting the mask over his mouth. He coughs, struggling to get the air in his lungs. He seems in and out of consciousness, those panicked eyes of his now a stormy, glassy gray as they try to focus on you.
“That’s it, just breathe now,” you coo at him, taking his vitals. His pulse is too fast and thready. You give him a small smile, trying to keep him calm.
An orderly, a doctor, and another nurse rush in. You quickly rattle off numbers and facts regarding his respiratory distress.
“Let’s get him on the bed,” the doctor orders, and the four of you lift him on a count of three.
Elvis flails his hand, gripping your arm. It’s certainly not the first time a patient has grabbed you out of fear, but it is the first time you’ve ever felt a jolt of electricity running through you from it. Looking in his eyes, the terror you see there gives you pause.
He’s just a man, you think. A very frightened young man.
And he wants comfort. Care. So, despite wanting to throttle him earlier, you hold his hand. He clings to you as the team tries to stabilize him. Your touch seems to settle him a little, despite the way his eyes flutter and he still gasps for breath.  
You all manage to get him breathing better, but he won’t let go of you. He starts to panic again every time you try to move away, throwing his vitals into a tailspin. As weak as he may be, that strong guitar-playing hand of his has you in a vise-like grip. The doctor looks at you judgmentally, and you make it clear that you have no idea why this is happening, that you’d rather not be relegated to hand-holding duty. But since his vitals are better holding your hand, the doctor nods his okay.
Give the VIP patient what he needs, is the clear message.
Elvis stabilizes. The room clears, and you stand at his bedside, waiting for him to fall asleep, to relax, to release you—anything that will allow you to leave and get back to work and forget the last half an hour ever happened. His eyes are closed, but every time you try to slip away, he just pulls you back. You try not to sigh audibly, to let your frustration show. You are usually much more compassionate and professional, rarely letting patients get under your skin. But Elvis…well, he seems to bring out an unwanted side of your normally mild and shy self.
He’s not consciously trying to be bothersome like he was earlier; he’s much too scared and out of it for that, you reason.
And at least this is better than cleaning bedpans, you chuckle, finally deciding to sit on the edge of the bed and make yourself a little more comfortable. You take this somewhat surreal moment to really look at him.
He is truly beautiful. There is an almost angelic innocence about him with his pale skin and high cheekbones, the way his cheeks are somehow both full and soft, but his jaw chiseled at the same time. His lips are pillowy and full, though nearly colorless now due to the lack of oxygen. His hair gleams, a deep, golden chestnut—a far cry from the rebellious black locks he was known for at the height of his fame a few years ago. With his straight nose and fanning, long lashes, it seems as though he was carved in stone by the masters and brought to life somehow.
Your heart skips, quite involuntarily.
Of course, there are imperfections. He’s got a day’s worth of dark stubble growing and you can see places where his skin is mottled from what was probably youthful acne. The circles around his eyes are too dark and…
I am really reaching here, you think. No, you are quite at a loss because even his “imperfections” add to his beauty.
Okay, so objectively, he’s pretty—when he’s quiet and sleeping. It’s just when he opens his big mouth that he becomes less attractive. This reminder makes you feel better and less like a fawning teenager.
Finally, his hand relaxes, and you slip out of his grasp without him reaching for you. As if trying not to wake a sleeping baby, you very slowly and quietly raise yourself off the bed. But curiosity gets the better of you, halting your leave, and you quietly open his chart at the end of the bed.
Your eyes scan the pages quickly, widening, hardly containing your disbelief. They glance up at the unrealistically beautiful young man in the hospital bed. Though you barely know him, and what you do know of him has already driven you mad, you can’t help but feel a sense of sadness and dread.
It’s the thing all his bravado and beauty distracted you from.
Elvis Presley is a very, very ill man.
*
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agent-cupcake · 1 year
Text
Raptus Regaliter
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A powerful friend helped me edit this. Fangs to her <3
Pairing:  Zenos yae Galvus x f!Miqo'te WoL Reader
Synopsis: Alternate option for what happens after the cutscenes "The Time Between the Seconds" where you wind up in Imperial custody. Although a more accurate description would be: Zenos beats you up and then fucks you.
Warnings: explicit smut, violence, noncon, blood [lots of blood and violence]
Tags: size difference, choking, forced orgasm
Word Count: 13.1k
Notes: Look I know it's been a long time since I posted but please forgive me I'm giving you Zenos's massive cock as an apology.
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There was nothing to make you profoundly regret every single one of your previous decisions like waking up bound, gagged, soaking wet, and with an unreasonably furious headache. Presumably—although you were a bit fuzzy on the details given the whole unconsciousness thing—the latter was from taking the hilt of a sword to the skull. Being wet had come from the bucket of cold water used to shock you awake before your march through what you could only assume was the Imperial-occupied Doma Castle. 
“On your best behavior, savage,” the soldier holding your bound arm growled as he jerked you to an abrupt stop. His voice was twice muffled, once by his helmet and again by the sack pinning your ears flat against your head. In front of you, somebody opened another door.
Handcuffed, woozy, gagged, blind, and stripped of both your armor and your weapons, you had no idea what sort of misbehavior he expected. It was almost more than you could manage to stumble along as he pushed you forward. He released your elbow at the last second, letting you lurch forward and onto your knees. Instinct had your hands flying forward to catch yourself, but the only thing that did was cause the metal cuffs keeping them behind your back to tighten painfully. The smooth, cool marble floor hit hard. Red hot, aching pain radiated from the back of your head all the way down your spine and to your tail, chased upward by the jarring zing of falling onto your knees.
A rough hand on your shoulder jerked you upright and, with an unceremonious whip of canvas, the man pulled the sack off of your head. You squinted into the light, which was blessedly dim, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the sight of the two soldiers. They both wore full sets of armor, devaluing them into nothing more than faceless, nameless instruments of Garlemald. Why they had bothered with the bag in the first place was beyond you, it wasn’t as if you were familiar enough with this place to know your location from just a few halls. Scare tactic? Humiliation? As if being marched through the palace in nothing more than your underclothes wasn’t bad enough. 
“Attempt to escape and your life is forfeit, savage,” the first soldier looming above you said, his hand threateningly resting on his sword. 
“I’d like to see you try,” you said in response, although that’s not what came out around the mouthful of gag. Which was probably for the best. Despite the botched attempt at bravado, you didn’t really mean it. There was a chance you could take them and steal their weapons, but then you’d have to fight your way out of an Imperial infested stronghold without any clue of how to get out wearing nothing other than a tanktop and shorts. 
Rather than respond, both soldiers gave a sharp Imperial salute, looking behind you. 
Oh. 
Knowing, and dreading, what you would find, you hobbled around to look behind yourself. The room wasn’t the torture dungeon you feared, but a lavish space with fine dark marble floor and ornate walls. Details were of little importance, your attention was focused only on the towering figure who stood at the far end with his back to you. Even though he wasn’t wearing his hulking Imperial armor, his size and long blond hair were too distinct for you to mistake him for anyone else.
Zenos. Seeing him triggered a rush of gut-twisting anxiety, fear, and helplessness. It overwrote your discomfort and fatigue entirely. Even shackled and disoriented, you clumsily struggled to get to your feet. Whether you meant to run or to fight, you didn’t know.
“On your knees, savage. You will show respect,” the soldier who had first spoken spat, forcing you back down with an elbow to the stomach and a heavy hand on your shoulder. You hit the floor for a second time with a muffled grunt, your body painfully tense. He cleared his throat, saluting again and raising his voice. “The prisoner, my lord.”
Zenos looked behind himself, giving you a flash of empty blue, before looking away. “Remove her shackles,” he ordered in a bored tone.
“Yes, my lord!” 
The soldier behind you crouched down, pulling out a key. “Try anything,” he warned softly, “and you’ll regret it.” 
You couldn’t see his face, but you could imagine the glare that accompanied the threat. And if it were just the two of them, you might have been formulating a plan of attack for the second you were freed. Surely you could take them. The real trouble stood at the other end of the room. So you swallowed your pride and nodded to show you understood. He unlocked the handcuffs, freeing your hands to pull the gag out of your mouth and toss it aside. Harsh red lines circled your wrists where the metal had cut deep indents into them. 
“I will speak to the prisoner alone,” Zenos said, his back still turned. “See that we are not disturbed.” 
With two more crisp salutes and cries of, “Yes, my lord,” the soldiers fled, sliding the door shut behind themselves.  
As soon as the door was shut, you got to your feet. Zenos remained silent. Utterly motionless, his back to you. The casual dismissiveness was likely meant to flaunt his power, but you were glad for the chance to collect yourself in peace. He couldn’t see you wince as you straightened out and took stock of your body. Everything hurt, at least a little, but your head was the worst of it. 
As the silence dragged on, you waited for Zenos to say something. He didn’t. 
A fear tactic? A test?
Trying not to let it get to you, you focused on your surroundings. The room must have been for religious ceremonies at one point. You were pretty sure the far wall that Zenos was so distracted by, painted and decorated with symbols and iconography of the Doman kami, was a shrine. There were shelves for incense and to hang prayers, although that was all gone. Whatever furniture that might have once given the room comfort had also been removed, leaving it hollow and cold. 
More importantly, the room lacked windows, leaving you unable to guess the time. It made you sick to think that you had been unconscious for very long. Your friends had to have been worried. Or, worse, they hadn’t gotten away. It was all so stupid. You shouldn’t have gone along with Yugiri in the first place, you should have done everything you could to stop her from the suicide mission. Your memories were cloudy and chaotic, but you recalled the fight, and Zenos’s missive, and the rescue. Everything would have been fine, but one of the Imperial soldiers had gone for Yugiri before Gosetsu got to her. You acted thoughtlessly, recklessly. All you got for your so-called heroism was the hilt of a sword to the head. 
Smoothing your hands over your wet hair, and shaking out your ears, you considered how to play this. 
Attacking was out. The room was empty, nothing for you to use as an improvised weapon. There was no way you would be able to win against Zenos in these conditions. Your captors had given you water when you woke up, but it had been at least twelve hours since you’d eaten and your only sleep had been from getting knocked out. It didn’t put you at a disadvantage entirely, but that was only if you were going against normal opponents. Running wasn’t much better. If Zenos had a mind to chase you, you knew firsthand how absurdly fast he could move. 
That meant talking, didn’t it? Or trying to. If you were worth keeping alive and he requested you directly, that meant something. What had Zenos told you the night before? Whatever was meant by the time between the seconds was beyond you, but you understood his command to live. His odd display of sentiment seemed like leverage you could use, if only you knew how.  
If only. 
If Alphinaud were here, he would already have made his opening gambit to argue his way out of this. Estinien would be able to rely on his brute strength and talent to get out of here. Even Thancred would have already rattled off some sarcastic comment or joke to establish his confidence in a situation like this. You weren’t sure what you were meant to do, which approach suited you best. As the silence dragged on, however, you began to think that maybe saying nothing was worse.
“What magnificent creatures could have been given life by the prayers left at this altar, I wonder,” Zenos said, his voice quiet enough that you could barely hear him. “So much power, all wasted.” He sighed. Before you could respond, although you weren’t entirely sure he was talking to you, Zenos turned his head to address you directly. “I am disappointed in you.”
He turned in full, giving you a clear look at him without his helmet or the haze of rain. 
So young. And with his long blond hair, kohl-lined baby blues, and angular features, Zenos possessed a disquieting sort of beauty, almost feminine in harsh contrast with his towering frame and the danger that rolled off of him in nearly tangible waves. While it was true that he was less bulky without the Imperial armor, the slightly more casual—assuming you could call a military coat worn on top of his shoulders like a cape with the sleeves hanging limp behind him casual—outfit only accentuated his figure. For several reasons, you weren’t sure that was a good thing. 
“What?” you asked.
“I allowed you to go free, and yet you attacked like an ill-mannered dog the moment I turned my back, spitting upon the gift of my generosity,” he said. “Had you accepted the opportunity I so graciously offered, you would not be here.” 
You opened your mouth to object before thinking better of it, clenching your fists to ground yourself so you could speak in a more measured tone. “I had no choice.” 
Zenos didn’t visibly react to your answer, considering it with the same cool inscrutability. “You had a choice. You chose incorrectly. But if you are to be here regardless, I see no reason to deny my,” he paused, pulling in a breath through his teeth as he gave you a decidedly uncomfortable once over, “interest in you, hero.”
More aware than ever of your state of undress, nervous flutters battered the inside of your stomach, some intoxicating combination of fear and anticipation. Animal instinct told you to turn around and run no matter the cost, it screamed and scrambled in its panic to get away from him. Twice now he had beat you half to death, and that was while you were armed and rested. But there was another instinct that desperately longed to charge headfirst into the danger, to ease your discomfort through the traditional method. That is, with your fists.
“Did Yugiri… did everybody else escape?” you asked.
Zenos remained silent, his expression giving nothing away. His eyes were really blue. Soft, beautiful blue. And entirely, utterly empty. 
Setting your shoulders, you forced yourself to hold eye contact, to prove that you weren’t afraid. “How long have I been here?” 
More silence, broken only by the sound of Zenos’s footsteps as he began to approach you, walking in an arc rather than directly towards you. Circling like a wolf. All the while, his eyes didn’t waver. Even from across the room, he was physically imposing. 
“Why did you summon me?” you pushed, a hint of desperation in your voice. Fear. You adjusted your stance in an attempt to orient yourself a little better. There really was no comfortable way to stand when you were so underdressed, no way to hide how vulnerable you felt. 
He wasn’t going to answer. That wasn’t how this worked. Zenos yae Galvus wasn’t the type of man who was content to simply talk things out. 
“You want information, right? About the rebellion,” you said, forcing yourself to sound strong. “Well it’s a waste of your time, I won’t tell you anything.” 
At first, you thought he was going to ignore you again. 
“There’s no need for that,” Zenos finally responded, taking another step. His expression remained completely impassive. It gave you the eerie sensation that, even without the helmet, he was still masked. “I do not concern myself with the petty antics of dead men. The savages of this desolate nation will continue to eat their own. I will not interfere unless she fails once more.” 
You took a half step back, pursing your lips as you tried to glean some deeper understanding from his words. “So what do you want from me?” you asked. 
“I mean to quit this wretched place. You will entertain me until my ship arrives.” 
Your stomach flipped nervously, but you ignored the feeling, focusing on the far more pressing matter. “And after that?” 
“I seek a greater prize elsewhere.” 
That wasn’t what you asked, but that meant he intended to leave. Your ears perked up with the slightest bit of hope. “So you’ll let me go?” 
That question sparked some emotion in Zenos’s empty eyes, they met yours with more focus. Curiosity, maybe. “I will not raise a hand to detain you any further, whether or not that means escape is your choice.” 
“Swear it?” 
Zenos didn’t respond, his gaze lowering until you realized it was following the nervous movements of your tail as it twitched back and forth. You froze, forcing it to straighten out with a bitter thought about every time you had been told to get better control over your ears and tail, how easily they betrayed your emotions. That wasn’t normally a problem. 
“How surprising it was to learn that the hero of the savages would be one like you. More beast than woman. Even among the savages, yours is a lowly lot. Feral poachers, whores, and societal outcasts who lack discipline—nay, lack humanity.”
It took extra effort to keep your tail from flicking, but you held your shoulders up and your tail in place, refusing to be ruffled by his insult. Lots of people had echoed similar sentiments, unable to think that a runt Keeper could be any sort of hero. Besides, it was almost flattering that Zenos would bother knowing enough about Miqo’te to insult you in the first place.
Very, very flattering. 
“People tell a lot of stories about your humanity too,” you said in what you hoped was a casual enough tone, even managing a smile. “Good thing we know better, right?” 
Figuring out what he thought about your attempt to catch him off guard was impossible, Zenos’s expression didn’t change. It didn’t seem to anger him. So that was good. Or bad. 
“Well then, my fellow beast, tell me,” he said, “why do you hold yourself back when we fight? I have been told of your exploits, of how you pitilessly slay your enemies without discrimination. And yet, I haven’t had the privilege to face the great warrior who has fought eikons and fell dragons. You are distracted. Reactive. Unfit for a proper fight. What will it take, I wonder, for you to bring your full might and mastery to bear?” 
You frowned before catching yourself, trying to keep your expression composed. As if you didn’t already feel weak and impotent. Even most of your allies weren’t aware of the extent to which the business with the dragons had drained you. Your strength was coming back, but not nearly to where you were before. Every time you thought you were ready to really, truly rejoin the fray, you found yourself lacking. You wanted to think it didn’t bother you but right then, disarmed and weakened and having to crane your neck to look up at the tyrannical horror known as Zenos yae Galvus with the memory of your defeat painfully fresh, it bothered you a lot. 
But you couldn’t let him know that. 
“I can only conclude that I’ve yet to do enough to properly stoke the flames of your outrage,” Zenos said when you didn’t respond. “How fortuitous that your foolish aspirations and my duty conflict so spectacularly. I will steal from you those you wish to protect, raze the land you so pitifully try to defend, and extinguish the flame of rebellion you have lit for the misguided malcontents who think to defy Imperial rule.” With each promise, his voice raised from its calculated drawl with excited fervor. “Such is my mission—as per His Radiance’s wishes. Then, when you are ready to bring your all, you will come to me as a creature driven only by righteous vengeance and unadulterated fury.” 
Zenos exhaled shakily, closing his eyes momentarily as if to calm himself. When they reopened, you were overcome with a fresh flood of icy cold dread. He didn’t look as crazy as his words indicated. There was a very measured sincere sanity to what he told you. That was more frightening than his cruelty, somehow.
“And if I refuse?” you asked. “I’m not the only one with a score to settle.” 
“You are the only one who is worthy,” Zenos told you. “We stand at the precipice of a new era of power. Those who lack the resolve to ascend are but ants beneath my boot. You would feel the same—were you not bound by the manacles of duty.”
A prince lecturing you about the confining nature of duty. It would be funny if you weren’t so uncomfortable. 
“But enough of this talk,” Zenos continued, his voice raising. “Entertain me. Show me the beast whose fury accomplished what so few else have, who bared her fangs when most would consider themselves beaten.”
“What?” you asked, taken aback by the sudden shift. Did he mean for you to attack him? “No, I don’t-” The fist buried in your stomach cut off whatever righteously indignant denial you intended, replacing it with a viscerally low grunt. Zenos held you in place by your shoulder, keeping you from flying away with the force of his attack. Keeping you curled around his arm, unable to even remember how to breathe, your entire body only existing in a state of breathless pain.
“Then I shall draw her out myself,” he said, his low words tinny and distant. 
Zenos pulled his arm back, letting you crumple. You tried to stay on your knees, to maintain a shred of dignity, but you had barely hit the ground before you collapsed sideways. His heavy boot landed on your side, keeping you from getting up. Despite his already unreasonable height advantage over most people, his boots were heeled. Such a cruel, gratuitous choice struck you as almost tragically unfair. The edge of the heel dug into the soft flesh right above your hip, his foot long enough that his toe could put pressure on your ribs. Pressing down just enough to make you squirm, Zenos rocked you back and forth, forcing you to pay attention. If he stepped down with all of his weight, he would crush your insides into nothing more than a sticky mush. Wheezing in pain, you squinted up at him with streaming eyes. From here, he looked half eikon himself. A monstrously tall, malicious being of pure intent. 
“I find torture to be tedious. There is, I allow, some artistry in it, but very little sport,” Zenos said. “To endure the mewling and whining of the weak and defeated is… grating.” 
He kicked you, catching your ribs at a bad angle and sending you rolling away. The world exploded anew, condensed down to nothing more than the agony of where his boot struck. But you recognized, on some level, that he was holding back. He wasn’t trying to break you. More than that, you were durable. That attack might have grievously injured some people, but you were harder to break. Good at taking a beating, you knew that long before you ever took up a weapon, back when the bigger kids would break their hands hitting you before you would give up. Some people had a pretty singing voice or could paint nice pictures, you could survive all manner of fatal beatings. 
Focus on breathing, you reminded yourself. In, and out. Focus on the rapid, thunderous beat of your heart, on the blood pumping through your veins. 
Endure. You could endure this.
“However, I must acknowledge that it has its uses,” Zenos continued. “Pain is a tool, and one that serves me quite well on occasion. After all, it is unjust, is it not? To be subjected to pain and humiliation for no reason other than the pleasure of another—how easily it draws out the truest nature of man, stripping away the unimportant trivialities they cling to in favor of something worthwhile. Stimulating, even beautiful. But it is a delicate thing. Too much, and the prey loses their will to fight. Too little, and they feel no need to retaliate.” 
Gritting your teeth, you got your arms beneath yourself. When he hit you, you’d accidentally bitten down on the soft flesh on the inside of your cheek. You had to spit out a mouthful of blood onto the pristine marble floor, coughing lightly to clear your lungs before wiping your mouth with a shaking hand. Holding back a grimace, you got to your knees, watching Zenos to ensure he didn’t rush you as you unsteadily stood up. 
“I understand you are not inspired by selfish gain—such is the insipid conceit of the dutiful. But now I have seen your potential to rise above your mundane calling. Your facade has slipped, hero. Be it today or another, I mean to strip you of it entirely.” 
His words rolled over you like water, a counter beat to the pounding of your heart, the roar of blood in your ears. You could feel the way energy coursed through your veins, easing all of your petty pains as you considered your next move. This wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t exactly torture either, the expression Zenos wore was too animated, his words shockingly friendly when compared to the way he had spoken to you previously. This meant something else to him.
Finally, you met his eyes, your stomach clenching unpleasantly at the sight. While you had been trying to sort out your thoughts, Zenos had been watching you intently. As predator, as appraiser, and opponent. What was he thinking when he stared at you so intently? You couldn’t even begin to guess. On the one hand, he seemed to be nothing more than a force of evil. On the other, you got the impression that the enjoyment he derived from this was pure. 
“I am surprised you have stayed your hand thus far,” Zenos said. “Is it wisdom? Weakness?”
“Give me a sword and find out.” 
Part of you expected anger, or annoyance. Instead, Zenos smiled. Although the expression mimicked the joy of any other person, his eyes narrowing and lips curling with amusement, it was wrong. Unsettling.  
When he came at you, you were prepared, dodging to the side with the intention to get your back away from the wall. Zenos pivoted to cut you off, his white coat flaring like wings behind him. A hard kick to your shin sent you careening forward. Zenos grabbed you by a fistful of your loose hair, dragging you towards him as you fell. Gravity did the rest, driving his raised knee into your stomach. 
Air burst out of your lungs like bellows, your body going limp. As if you were nothing more than a ragdoll, Zenos raised his leg higher to push you back upward. You saw his fist coming at the last second, reactively dodging and causing it to glance off of your cheekbone. In some ways, your lack of height was beneficial. The awkward angle of his punch pushed you further up, momentum sending you a few fulms back before collapsing onto your ass. Your tailbone connected hard with the floor, sharp pain zipping up your torso. 
Without hesitation, you lurched onto your feet, no longer concerned with self preservation so much as answering the call of bucketfuls of energy dumping into your veins.
“A pitiful start,” Zenos remarked, his tone returning to that bored drawl.
He attacked again, moving way too fast for somebody so huge. Your dodge was messy, you stumbled over his outstretched foot and presented an easy opening for him to take advantage of. Your hip first, aligned as it was with his knee. Something cracked, you had no idea if it was the complaining of metal or bone. Then your chest, his forearm striking like an iron bar right beneath your collarbones. The coup de grâce was a hard punch directly to your kidney. 
The world blurred and blackened as furious, blinding agony engulfed you entirely. Exquisite in its malice, pain was all that could possibly exist in that moment. 
There was no thought when you were overcome so completely by your need to get away, driven by the primal instinct of an animal. Tanking another punch to the ribs, you grabbed his arm, the one he was holding you with, pulling at it like a bar. Zenos couldn’t shake you off fast enough, not before you could bite on the first available patch of vulnerability you could find. Right above where the leather of his glove ended and below the elbow. Gods bless his lack of armor, you could feel your sharp canines pierce the fabric of his shirt, digging right into his skin. 
He swatted you away with a head turning backhand, sending you back until you slammed against the wall. At the very least, it kept you from falling again, giving you something to steady yourself against. Quickened by the fresh burst of energy gifted through pain, you quickly assessed your wounds. No broken bones. Probably no internal damage. Your face was the most distracting of the pain, his backhand had reduced the entire cheek to an unmanageable blaze of feverish skin.
Opening your streaming eyes and blinking your vision clear, you realized that your bite must have caught a vein in his arm, bringing along a spray of blood when he shook you off. Scarlet droplets stained the ornate white collar of his coat, soaking into the light colored fabric of your clothes. Even though you were unable to catch your breath and liable to collapse from the pain at any minute, you felt a pang of victory. When was the last time anybody had drawn his blood? 
Zenos looked confused, almost. That passed quickly, his eyes focused on you with a predatory gleam. “Well, well.” He shrugged the coat from his shoulders without a thought given to how expensive the garment must have been. “More beast than woman indeed. Mayhap you should be muzzled.” 
The stomp of his boot on the floor was all the warning you got, but you were able to spin out of his reach when he lunged at you, ducking beneath his sweeping fist.  
“Better,” he remarked, following it up with a low swipe of his left arm and then a direct right. “But it won’t be enough.” Ignoring the taunt, you dodged his next cluster of attacks by a hair's breadth, the air tickling your sweaty skin. Zenos didn’t continue to rush you like you expected, straightening out and turning as you circled him. 
He was baiting you into attacking. You knew that because, if you were the one with the upper hand, you would have done the same.
Realizing you weren’t going to take initiative, Zenos came at you again. This time, you were given no reprieve from his flurry of punches. Most of them were feints. Testing you? Teasing you? No. Tiring you out. You tried to step backward to catch your breath, but you didn’t move fast enough. He grabbed your arm before you were out of reach, wrenching you back towards him. 
With a grotesque pop, your shoulder gave out. You ignored it, knowing the sort of sick trick he was about to pull, and forced yourself to orient to the change of momentum. Following it, you jumped. Your bare foot connected satisfyingly with his unarmored hip. Your other foot connected with his stomach, meeting the resistance of some type of protective shirt. You used that leverage to get away, twisting your arm out of his loosened grip. Pain lanced down that arm all the way down to your knuckles, the shoulder screaming in protest. As far as aerials went, it was horribly awkward in the limited space, and you barely managed to stick the landing. But it got you out of his reach. 
“Clever girl,” Zenos praised you. He didn’t approach you again, merely watching you with that same disquieting smile. The lanterns on the far wall lit the gold of his hair into a halo, the rapturous depictions of kami rearing up behind him. “You enjoy this as much as I do.”
Panting and dizzy, you met his gaze, too immersed to feel shame. Unlike base predators that took eye contact as a sign of aggression, Zenos seemed to invite your attention. There was a sense of lucidity to him now, contrasting with your hazy thoughts. In your blurry emerald limbo, there existed only the absolute and physical. Pain and exertion and living and yourself and your opponent. The racing of your heart and the flow of blood through your veins, the taste of it in your throat and on your tongue. 
“Oh yes,” he continued, his voice lowering. “That look in your eye belies the ideals you so fervently espouse.” 
Either his tone or the words themselves—something about what Zenos said affected you in a way you would never admit in any realm outside of the fog of senseless frenzy. You could still taste his blood, feel the bruises he’d printed around your arm when he grabbed you. He was right in some ways. You wanted to fight him, to win. Not for any grand cause or because of the evil he had committed, but because you were compelled by the heat of the moment, by your own desire. 
But you couldn’t. This was for his entertainment. His enjoyment. Zenos spoke as if there was some deeper meaning to this, but that was all talk. Words to lend virtue to violence. 
You knew all about that. 
Instinct kept you from breaking stance when Zenos rushed you again. Feet apart, knees bent, ready to move, to dodge. That was all you could do. Avoid his attacks until you couldn’t anymore. There was no running, no fighting. With its shoulder out of place, your left arm was borderline useless.
And it worked, for a time. Zenos attacked and you dodged, the two of you were practically dancing together. And it was, in a way, invigorating. You saw the same feeling on his face. 
The moment of perfect invulnerability ended too soon. You misjudged where his fist was aimed and overcorrected, giving him an opening to clip the back of your heel with the hard edge of his boot. The tendon gave out and, yelping, you toppled forward. Rather than letting you fall where you were, Zenos grabbed you by the back of the neck. 
“Caught you,” he teased. You struggled violently, freeing yourself and whirling around to hit him with your uninjured arm, moving right into place for his other fist to connect with your face. Blood exploded from your nose. You didn’t even feel it at first, just the overwhelming sense of disbelieving shock. 
Grabbing your arm, Zenos tossed you into the center of the room, throwing you around like you were nothing. To him, you probably were. 
You fell with a soundless, breathless cry, rolling to try and mitigate further damage before coming to a stop, dizzy and aching. All you could taste was blood, it was still gushing from your nose, painting the front of your sweaty undershirt in bright red. 
“Again,” Zenos demanded, excited. 
Panting hard, you tried to get to your feet, watching him with watering eyes. But the tendon he’d kicked gave out, pain incapacitating that entire leg when you put pressure on it. 
“Is that it?” he mocked. With loud footsteps, he approached you slowly, as if to give you time to escape, but it was setting in finally that you were helpless. In every sense. 
Yellow light had warmed the greens and reds of the room into a sort of unreality, your tear-glazed vision fading on the edges and sharpening in the center, your entire existence heightening to a pinpoint of the moment. Fear cast a dark shadow, but the absurdity and oversaturation of dramatics gave you a measure of recklessness, a retreat from your fear and anger. 
“On your feet, hero.” 
“Why?” you asked, your voice muffled by your bloody nose. It didn’t feel broken, at least. Zenos wasn’t trying to seriously hurt you, this was all just a game. A diversion. Biting your tongue to keep from making any noise, you took the opportunity to push your shoulder back into place. Nausea flooded through your stomach at the pain, but you choked it down. You would be fine. 
“Why indeed,” he said softly. “You enjoy this too, do you not?” 
You breathed out shakily, blood running into your mouth. The mental barrier that accounted for things like safety and morality was all but disintegrated by adrenaline and exhaustion.
“So stand,” Zenos insisted, his voice threateningly soft. He spoke so low, you could practically feel his voice. “Now.” 
It didn’t matter one way or the other. Every choice he had offered was a falsehood, a chance for him to observe your reaction. Zenos wasn’t playing the role of predator or prey, he was taking on the role of ethologist. He wanted you to react, to struggle and fight and feed into his lust for violence. 
“No,” you said, looking up at him with your jaw set in place. It wasn’t exactly the strong rejection you were aiming for, stuffed up by the blood that was finally slowing down. Everything was painted with the stuff, soon to become sticky and rusty. All the same, you felt a rush of pleasure at saying it, at denying him something he explicitly asked for. “Do what you will, I-I don’t care. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last, so wha-whatever you expect to get from this… It’s pointless. Compared to what I’ve faced… the horrors in this world… you’re… you’re insignificant.” 
Zenos’s eyes narrowed and you met them with a raised chin. Part of that was because of the bloody nose, but most of it was out of stubborn defiance. The idea that you had gotten under his skin, even a little, filled you with hot satisfaction, almost enough to cancel out the pain.  
And you expected retribution, maybe a part of you hoped for it. But instead of stooping down or kicking you or anything else that you expected, his arm swept forward so he could grab a handful of your loose hair, dragging you back up onto your knees. It hurt, of course it hurt, but the pain shot down right down your spine, and your verbal response, what should have been a cry of pain, was a loud moan. 
Zenos froze. You did too, not even trying to escape the hand threaded into your hair. The silence physically pressed into you, broken only by your harsh breathing as you waited for him to say something. Part of you hoped he hadn’t heard it, or that he’d misinterpret the sound. It wasn’t your fault, it was a mixture of everything and you couldn’t help it, it had nothing to do with him, of course it didn’t. Just that the intensity and the helplessness and the way reality had dulled while your senses sharpened so acutely had worn away at your reasonable, rational mind, passion becoming indistinguishable. 
Excuses. The frailty of youthful weakness had warped you, playing adventurer hero now didn’t change anything. 
“Is this why you behave with such insolence?” Zenos asked softly.
A new type of fear and humiliation gripped your insides, keeping you silent. Instead, you thought to pry at his hand, trying to make him let go. But another sharp tug made you whimper, and you stopped. 
“How very… unexpected.” Zenos dropped your hair and you immediately tried to escape, your sweaty, bloody palms slapping on the stone floor as you tried to lurch onto your feet.
What you didn’t expect, really truly genuinely didn’t expect, was to feel his hand close around your neck before you could make it even a step past him, pushing you until you hit the wall and up. Up until your feet were off the ground, up until your panicked eyes could directly meet his, up until he could stand close enough that you felt the heat of his body. Paint scratched your bare shoulders, reminding you of where you were: crushed helplessly between a shrine for somebody else’s gods and the man who would see them all destroyed. 
Mad with panic, you grabbed onto his arm to keep from suffocating entirely, bracing yourself between him and the wall to relieve some of the pressure on your throat, your feet—raised at least two fulms off of the floor—kicking ineffectually. They would have an easier time knocking a hole in the wall than managing to hurt Zenos in any meaningful way. You lashed out with your free hand as well, hitting his chest, his arm. When you tried to claw at his exposed face, Zenos just raised his chin to keep it out of your limited reach. When you went for his hair,  his hand tightened enough that the world blinked dark, his other hand pressing against your sore hip. Before you could pass out, he let up slightly. You choked, gasping, twitching pitifully. 
“Is this all it takes to incapacitate you, hero?” Zenos mocked. “You have faced worse, have you not?” 
Already the world seemed to be closing in, getting darker. You had wasted too much energy panicking. Although even if you hadn’t, you probably would have had an easier time moving mountains than prying Zenos’s hand from your neck. 
He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering and eyes burning into yours. “How pathetic.” 
Your reaction to the insult, the one you did your utmost to hide from him, must have come through in some capacity. And he had to have been watching and waiting for it, because Zenos’s smile deepened to a truly devious expression. 
“I should have known that you would have… unnatural tastes.”
Your face screwed up in disgust and you tried, with waning strength, to pry his fingers off of your neck. It was pointless. His body was blazing heat and impossibly solid, his face close enough that you could see the color in his cheeks, the inky dark brush of his eyelashes over sweet baby blue each time he blinked. 
Even that, your entire world, slowly darkened, all of your pitiful choking noises cutting off. 
“Don’t swoon,” he said irritably, like it was your own fault. But he did step forward so you could hold onto him. Pride demanded you refuse the offer, but survival won out. You clung to Zenos, easing the pressure off of your neck. The cruelty wasn’t lost on you, even in your frazzled state. He did nothing to help support you other than the hand around your neck. It forced you into dependency, your bare thighs chafing uncomfortably against his armored waist and your arms clinging to his broad shoulders, but it was still better than passing out.  
Zenos watched with empty eyes while you, once again, tried to catch your breath. It was difficult, you were overly aware of the weight of his gaze. And the position wasn’t intimate in any sane way. It would be as easy as breathing for him to snap your neck, and you doubted anybody would label the look he gave you as lustful, but your body reacted to his proximity all the same. Not as a combatant, but as a woman. The hot, confused, nervous weight of being so near him scared you more than any threat of violence. It was a sickening sensation, blurring the pain with the onslaught of energy that had kept you going thus far. And it wasn’t your fault. Your passions so rarely had the opportunity to get twisted in this way when you were fighting monsters and eikons and crazy old men. Monsters had no right to be attractive, your brain lacked the wisdom to filter danger from lust, or violence from passion.  
“Put me down,” you demanded, your voice hoarse.
“I am not loath to indulge you in such a way,” Zenos said, speaking as if he hadn’t heard you. “While you are too small for my taste, you are not entirely without appeal. You will not be easily broken either.” 
You shook your head in panic, your stomach twisting into knots. Even as you choked on the smell and taste of blood, you could smell him too. It must have been his hair, amber clove and vanilla. “I-I don’t know what you think you’re-”
“And to claim the hero of the savages for myself,” he continued, cutting you off with amusement breaking through his tone. “It is not an unpleasant thought. 
“No,” you told him emphatically, injecting every bit of strength and acid you could into the word.  
“No?” Zenos repeated in a deadly soft voice, his head tilting as he considered your rejection. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. “Did you not grant me permission to do as I wished?”  
You gasped harshly when his hand dropped between your legs, almost glad for the way his other hand restricted your ability to make any louder noise as his fingers pressed right between your thighs. Everything, even breathing, hurt your battered and exhausted body—assuming you could get a proper breath with his grip cutting off your airway—but that pain only made things worse, made you more sensitized. With nothing more than the thin pair of shorts and even thinner panties, you knew he could feel the heat. 
“If this is, as you say, insignificant, why should you reject me?” Zenos asked.
The use of your own words against you was like a slap in the face. They had been spoken in a moment of contrary bravado, but you realized now how stupid they had been. 
“Stop it,” you demanded in a crushed voice, fixing him with what you hoped was a properly angry glare. When you squirmed to escape, all it did was grind you against his hand. 
“Have you shared your body with another before?” His fingers curled, pressing a little harder against your clothed pussy. By the Twelve, his hand was nearly double the size of yours. 
“Stop!” 
Without any other warning, Zenos pulled his hand away so he could shove it past the waistband of your shorts and panties. They weren’t meant to stretch that much, the fabric complaining against the stress. But you weren’t as concerned with that as you were with the shock of one of his fingers dipping inward, slipping between your outer lips. His calloused fingertip searched for a moment, drawn inward by smooth, slick flesh to your entrance. You hissed sharply, your thighs clenching around his waist.  
“As I thought. You’re dripping for me, my beast.” While passion burned in his low voice, Zenos didn’t look pleased with the revelation. You couldn’t tell what he felt, or thought, only that you didn’t like it. “For the pain I’ve given you, the thrilling rush of violence we’ve enjoyed together. In this, we are of the same mind.” 
“We’re not!” you insisted breathlessly. To punctuate the rejection, your body bucked clumsily, a desperate bid to displace his hand, senseless panic about what was happening well and truly setting in. It was predictably ineffectual. Without any other options, you pushed against his shoulders to move further up the wall, to get away from his touch. His hand just followed you, that finger drawing forward to press against your clit. A shiver ran through your body, fizzling out in your head. “Ss-stop this. You’re-you’re disgusting.”
“Finally!” Zenos exclaimed, his voice raising with manic glee. “That is the look I crave. I wonder, hero, will you hate me for exposing your true nature, or will you finally admit to what you are?”
Not waiting for an answer, he pulled his hand away so he could push your shorts and underwear down. The fabric strained loudly, painfully taut between your thighs and stopped by the obstruction of his body. But it was enough to make space for his hand. You tried to fight him, pulling at his arm desperately, but your attempts were pointless, Zenos just squeezed your throat a little tighter. Not enough to cut off your air completely, but enough to make you gasp and wheeze, enough to make you unable to anything as he pressed two fingers against the fluttering muscles of your entrance. You glared at him through squinted, teary eyes, giving up on the hand around your neck to pry at the one between your legs. 
Zenos smiled. “Hate, then. Very well.” 
With that, he drove two fingers into your pussy. They were big, and two was more than you could have been prepared for. But you were wet, and even if it hurt, he was easily able to work them in deep, his callouses scraping against your sensitive inner walls. You choked, a pained hiss leaving from between your teeth. 
“Not a virgin then,” he said. “A pity. ” 
When Zenos pulled his fingers out, you could feel the way your cunt worked around them as if trying to suck him back in despite the discomfort. Your hips twitched forward in a suggestive way. A little sound left your mouth when his fingers curled slightly, a sound that you didn’t want to think was pleasure but certainly wasn’t pain or discomfort. 
“Mm. Consider yourself lucky, beast. I don’t often waste my time pandering to the whims of others, but I want you to remember this well. Your lust, your fear, your pain, your rage—I will have it all. I will take from you what no one else has.”
You shook your head, but, all too easily, your body turned against you. He thrust his fingers back in with a sloppy sound and you choked out a moan, your pussy squeezing his fingers as they pulled out. 
Sickened by your response, by his words, you lashed out again. Zenos wasn’t expecting it this time, and you caught his cheek with your nails. Four shallow red lines marked his flawless ivory cheekbone, cut short when he used his grip on your neck to pull you forward and slam you hard against the wall, painfully knocking your head against it as he began to fingerfuck you in earnest.
Something cracked upon impact and, in the dizzy lurch of agony sweeping red hot behind your eyes, you thought for sure that you had just broken your skull. 
But even the pain wasn’t enough of a distraction to let you ignore the fingers buried deep in your cunt. Zenos was cruel, pushing them deep enough that you could feel the leather of his fingerless glove each time. A helpless, nearly inaudible noise left your mouth.
Zenos exhaled sharply through his nose, although that was the only indication you got that he was affected by any of this. Rougher now, while you were still trying to get over the agonizing throbbing starting at the back of your head and working all the way down your body. Already he was setting a too-fast pace that had you rocking up and down against the wall, held in place by his hand and the grip you had on his shoulders. When you braved to look at him through wet eyelashes, the emptiness of his eyes struck you anew. Excitement, sure. Maybe even a sort of hunger. But not enjoyment or engagement. Not ‘need’ in the lustful sense. 
“There is something… curious about lust born not of desire, but of violence. How similar the two can be, yet how different,” Zenos mused, unconcerned with the turmoil in your head, unconcerned with the act itself. You gasped and jerked and twitched with every thrust, but he wasn’t affected. 
If murdering innocents wasn’t enough to get his heart rate up, chokeslamming you to the wall and fingerfucking you wasn’t likely to either. That bitter thought didn’t do much to curb your body’s reaction. Every pass was better than the last, his long fingers scratching an itch within you that you simply couldn’t, no matter how hard you tried. His other hand squeezed your windpipe ever so slightly at random intervals, keeping you from being able to breathe, to form a coherent thought. It kept you sensitized, entreated by each intoxicating rush of oxygen. 
“I myself am not immune to its effects, but… that is agreeable to you, beast, is it not?”
There wasn’t much within you left to focus on Zenos’s words. All you could think was that you were going to come if he didn’t stop. He kept curling his fingers as he pulled them out, dragging his calloused fingertips—intentionally or not—against your g-spot. Not to mention how deep he could go. It was literal fingerfucking. You knew you were dripping past his knuckles and probably onto the leather of his glove. There was no resistance against his fingers, nothing to keep him from being rough, to twist and scissor them in a way that made your legs kick and back arch. 
Foul. It was all foul, and Zenos enjoyed watching your conflict. If not with lust, then with great interest. You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your face as far from him as you could given the hand around your throat. You wouldn’t come. You didn’t enjoy this. 
“Ah, ah, ah. Eyes on me, beast,” Zenos said, his hand squeezing your throat and fingers thrusting into you sharply, mercilessly adding a third. It made you squeal, a sound you couldn’t remember having made before. “Are you listening, hero? I will not repeat myself. You will look me in the eye while you come on my hand.”
You meant to object, but all you got out was a whine. The sound was choked and pathetic and obscene, adding to the obscene, sloppy noises created by each thrust of his fingers. Nobody would believe you were unwilling, not when you were so wet, not when your pussy clamped down around his fingers at the dark threat, and not when you were squirming like a woman possessed. Air had become a privilege and all you could taste was blood and you were sore in a dozen different places and none of that mattered.
Soundlessly begging with bloody lips, you did what Zenos said and met his eyes, feeling the inevitable twist and blaze of pleasure in your core as your body tightened. It looked like he knew, his eyes widening in excitement and body crushing you to the wall a little harder, his fingers setting a faster pace. Most men wouldn’t be able to maintain such a savage pace. Then again, you doubted most women would be able to find pleasure in such brutality. It was violent and painful and miserably cruel and every time his fingers moved you saw stars. 
“Come now, beast. I don’t have all day.” 
Zenos’s voice was low, intimate. You felt it more than you heard it, the sound going right to your pussy. That was all it took. Burning with self hatred and disgust and a bestial sort of lust that bordered delirium, you shuddered apart, pleasure rolling through you and easing every ache, every discomfort, even dread was dulled by the overwhelming sensation. Cruel eyes watched you get off to his abuse, you met Zenos’s gaze as you relented to the pleasure of his violence. Blue, cool and empty and absolute, ravaged your mind. 
All too quickly, it was over, and you were back in the miserable heat and disgust of the situation. Trembling and feeling the creeping nausea return, you told him to stop in a broken voice, wincing as your body began to painfully reject the overstimulation. Zenos did, and you almost didn’t like that either because when he pulled his fingers out of you, he did so slowly, ensuring you could feel it, that he could see the way you shivered at the overstimulation when he brushed past your g-spot. 
“Look at me,” Zenos demanded. You hadn’t been aware you had closed your eyes but you opened them quickly, glaring at the man as intently as you could. And Zenos had the gall to laugh, genuine delight dancing in his eyes. “A stirring sight, to be sure.” 
You spat blood. 
The glob of red saliva missed from how quickly he moved, hitting his shirt instead. Zenos dropped you with visible disgust, stepping back so you could fall to the floor. You didn’t feel the pain, although it must have been quite jarring. Like a panicking animal, you scrambled around his legs, desperate to get away. 
“It is too late for that,” Zenos said, stopping your escape by stepping on your leg. It forced your hips flat on the cool floor, the rest of your body following suit. 
“Stop!”
Zenos ignored you, removing his boot as he crouched down behind you only to replace it with a knee settled heavily on the back of your leg, the metal edge of his armor pressing painfully into the soft flesh. He made quick work getting rid of the scrap remains of your underwear and shorts, tossing them aside and leaving no room for interpretation as to what was about to happen. Although the noticeable bulge made that point well enough. 
“Here now, beast,” he teased, his voice warm with amusement. “Heel.”  
“Gah-no,” you cried, ignoring the pain and lashing out, desperate to get out from under him. “Let me go!”
Rather than argue, Zenos grabbed one of your ears. Instinctually, your body went stiff to spare itself. In combat, you kept your sensitive, delicate ears protected, but now they were completely exposed. Afraid of what he might do, you didn’t resist as he pulled you back, forcing you to sit upright on your knees. 
“I understand the deformities of the beast savages are prone to exceptional sensitivity,” he said, pinching the delicate tip of your ear between his fingers to feel the fur. “Is that true?” 
You grit your teeth, fresh tears forming in your eyes. “Let me g-” Zenos cut you off, taking advantage of your open mouth to shove his fingers past your lips. They were the ones that had been inside of you, that had made you come. Your mouth filled with the salty, heady flavor. It mixed unpleasantly with the tangy taste of blood. Using his fingers like a hook on the inside of your cheek, Zenos turned your head sideways to make you look at him. 
His eyebrow quirked expectantly. “Clean up your mess.” 
Oh.
Oh. 
Embarrassment welled up in your chest and part of you wanted to bite him, but Zenos pulled on your ear again. Of the two horrors, you picked the lesser and obediently closed your lips around his fingers, sucking them clean. You had no idea how much of it was about sexual gratification. When he pushed them deeper and made you choke, he just looked amused. Curious about your reaction, maybe. The amount of dispassionate control he had over the situation when you could barely think right was terrifying. 
When Zenos decided you had done enough, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a deluge of bloody saliva, wiping them off on your sweaty tank top.    
You might have felt relief when he released your ear, but it was followed by the suggestive clink of metal as he undid his belt, leather sliding against itself, and you tensed up, your breathing picking up speed. Between the panic and blood and choking and hyperventilation, you felt as if you hadn't gotten a full breath in hours.
“You can’t do this,” you said, putting as much steel into your voice as possible. It trembled along with the rest of your body. 
Zenos didn’t bother responding. His belt dropped to the floor. You didn’t want to look back as you heard fabric being pushed aside, but you couldn’t help the impulse, twisting around to get a glimpse of him over your shoulder. Very little of Zenos’s body was revealed, only what was necessary. The bottom of a well muscled abdomen, a trail of blond hair, and his dick, the flushed head bobbing as he stroked himself fully hard. Zenos touched himself in a way that seemed to purposefully flaunt his body. As indifferent as he acted, the man was obviously vain. That wasn’t much of a concern right then. In his own hand, his cock was proportional, but considering you had felt those fingers inside of you already, proportional was synonymous with no way this was going to work. 
“Take pride in inspiring my lust,” he told you with the faintest trace of a smile. “It’s not often that I feel compelled to satiate my base urges for any reason other than convenience. But this… I shall enjoy this.” 
You jerked forward in an attempt to dislodge your leg, your sweaty palms slapping against the marble floor as you dragged yourself forward. Zenos calmly grabbed you by the tail to force you back into place. For the first time, he made you scream, the unexpected pain and shock zipping all the way up your spine to your pounding head. 
“Stop!” you demanded, attempting to twist around only to be knocked down to your elbows when he released your tail in favor of getting his hands around your hips to pull you into place. He seemed utterly unconcerned with you, preoccupied with your body instead.
The time for playing had, at long last, ended. 
“Spread your legs,” Zenos ordered, unnervingly dispassionate. 
You didn’t, not even sure if you could will your body to expose itself like that. 
Zenos wordlessly grabbed your tail again, using it to lift your back into a painful arch. Even with your thighs clamped together, the position forcibly exposed your bare ass and pussy to his eyes. The only way to hide would be to risk breaking your tail. He didn’t give you time to decide which was worse, his flat palm landing against your ass with a horribly loud smack. The slap was hard enough to make you yelp, hard enough to send your body lurching forward. Zenos patiently pulled you back into place by the tail, shooting fresh scores of pain up your spine. Red hot fire spread across your skin, you’d probably have a hand-shaped imprint there. The pain, however, was minor in comparison to the shock of being spanked. Like you were a disobedient child. And your body, the traitor, shuddered with the pain and humiliation. 
“Ah—ff-fine,” you said, spreading your legs before he could hit you again, squeezing your eyes shut against the embarrassment. Wordlessly, Zenos’s fingertips lightly traced over the hand-shaped mark, almost gentle. And then he spanked you again. Harder, a little lower than the first, targeting the very top of your thigh as well. Your shout was hoarse and choked. And still, he said nothing.
Maintaining a firm hold on your tail to keep your back arched as high as possible, Zenos pushed his cock between your folds. You were so wet that it slipped, bumping against your clit in a way that made you shiver. With the same calculated patience, he pulled back and aligned the thick head with your entrance, pressing into you. There was some give, but even though he had prepared you with his thick fingers, this was different. Your body acted instinctively to protect itself, you couldn’t help it. 
“Zenos, st—ah-” Your words cut off with a girlish yelp as he finally forced the head of his cock past the flinching muscles of your entrance. Your pussy clamped down hard around him, trying to keep him out, but that had the opposite effect. Given Zenos’s silent stoicism so far, hearing his little groan made the hairs on the back of your sweaty neck stand on end. It was wrong.  
“Can you not feel how your body begs—nay, weeps for mine, beast?” he asked with muted fervor, exchanging your tail for a handful of your loose hair. 
“N-nn-oh, stop,” you choked out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth floor. 
“No,” he said. The single, inflectionless word was worse than almost anything else he could have said, damning in its simplicity. There was nothing you could do to stop this. It was going to happen. Zenos let go of your hair and lifted you by the hips to mitigate the size discrepancy, it pushed him a little deeper, aided by how wet you were. 
“Ss-stop!” you demanded again, your voice raised in panic when he kept pushing. Beyond the initial stretch, there was resistance. No matter how wet you were, you didn’t want this. That didn’t so much as give him pause. Zenos sighed, twisting your hips to ease his way. You drew up painfully tense, your breathing harsh and fast. The tension made it worse, made the uncomfortable stretch that much more obvious. “Stopstopstop—” you practically chanted, but there was nothing you could do, Zenos had complete control over the position. Over you.
“Does it hurt?” he asked mockingly, curling down over you. “Do you ache?” 
A broken sound left your mouth, something like a sob. “Too much,” you got out through gritted teeth. “It won’t fit.” 
“‘Tis your own fault,” Zenos said. “Mayhap if you weren’t such a runtish creature…” The disdain in his voice was utterly uncalled for. It wasn’t your size that was the problem, he was too much for anybody to reasonably take. 
Without warning, he swept you up by the backs of your thighs, folding you against himself as he sat back. Gravity dragged you down further onto his cock, and a few upward thrusts of his hips did the rest. You were unable to do anything other than take it, the position left you without any room to struggle. The natural resistance of your body, the simple matter of size, only delayed the inevitable. With a terrible ripping sensation and a final few hard, shallow thrusts, you were fully seated on his cock. There was no relief or distraction you could find. There was nothing other than the pinching, pounding, splitting ache of being too full. The problem wasn’t just the length, his cock was too thick, greedily forcing your body to accommodate his own.   
Zenos sighed in satisfaction. Above you, behind you, inside of you, all around you. 
“There,” he said, the singular, satisfied word rumbling against your back. His armor scraped roughly against your bare shoulders, but even without it there would be no intimacy to this position. Now that you had sunk down his cock, your head didn’t so much as make it up to his chin. You may as well have been nothing more than a doll in comparison.
Unconcerned with your panting, trembling, pained reaction, Zenos leisurely rolled his hips. You could have sworn you felt his cock twitch inside of you. You wondered if he could feel your heartbeat like you could, pulsing against him. So deep, selfishly, cruelly deep. You whimpered despite your best attempts to stay silent when he rolled his hips again. It was, in a way, almost nice of him to be giving you a moment to adjust. You would have expected Zenos to fuck you violently, vicious and bloody. But he seemed content to take his time. It was hard to imagine it was for your sake, but he wasn’t reacting like it was for his own either. 
Your breath caught when he began pulling out. It was what you wanted, but it still hurt, forcing you to feel the way your pussy unconsciously squeezed around him, your agonizingly raw walls fluttering in pain. Desperate to escape the splitting pain before he could fill you again, your body bunched up in an attempt to get away, but Zenos easily held you in place, his hips slamming upward. You wailed, thrashing helplessly against his hold.
“Quiet now, beast,” he warned in a low voice, “lest you wish for all to know how readily you take my cock.”
That dark threat kept you from making too loud of a noise in response to the next too-hard thrust, just a whimpery grunt from the strain it put on your body. The only benefit was that he couldn’t force you down all the way onto his cock each time in this position. A small mercy, considering how uncomfortably full you were anyway. 
But you knew what would happen. 
It didn’t stop aching, but you were more than aware that your body was easing into it. Submitting to him. Squeezing his cock, providing a fresh wave of lubrication, your hips tilting forward to match his. Rough sex wasn’t new to you, the only thing that set Zenos apart was his size. And the glaring fact that you didn’t want this. But, in any other circumstance, the manhandling and raw strength he casually displayed was something you liked. Even if your cognitive mind chanted that you didn’t want this, your body was stupid. It got confused about getting punched in the face, let alone being fucked. 
“Ah, I knew you would come around,” Zenos said, a smile in his voice. Holding your legs with his arms allowed one of his hands to sneak down, dropping to feel where your pussy was stretching around him. The stimulation made you shudder, your hips bucking forward. 
“Don’t,” you hissed, tensing up all over again. But Zenos didn’t seem to be listening, groaning at the way his touch made your pussy squeeze him, the rush of fresh arousal it brought to smooth his way. “Stop!” you whined, trying to writhe away from him. 
He ignored you, his rough fingers continuing to tease you, making you squirm and jerk and tighten around his cock again. 
“From now on,” Zenos said softly, “every time you allow another man to fuck you, I will be the one you think of. Be it with lust, hate, despair—your body will crave mine.”
Even if they were nothing more than hot air and overconfidence, his words made you moan. You wanted to be brave, to say something to shut him down like you had before, to insist that this didn’t feel good. It was so frustratingly unfair, so evil. Physical pain had never been able to weaken you into giving up, but a taste of pleasure could? 
His fingers trailed up further. When they found your neglected clit, you choked, your body jerking against his hold. Zenos rewarded your reaction with a hard thrust and, for the first time, the sound you let out was without the slightest hint of pain, an open obscenity of pleasure.  
Zenos groaned in turn, holding you tighter, his thrusts becoming more focused. The way he touched your clit was excessively good. Considering how much pain he had caused, it should have been impossible to think you could come from this. But you already had. And, in the absence of the adrenaline that had kept you alert while he was beating you up, there was a hollow within you. Hollow morals, hollow self preservation. Pleasure so easily filled the gaps in your empty mind, coiling up hot and tense inside of you with each thrust. 
So full, so deep. Every time his hips thrust upwards your body was pushed into his touch against your clit. The thick head of his cock hit in a way that made choke back moans and gasps, driving so deep you could have sworn you’d feel him just by pressing against your abdomen. And then there was the pressure. The fullness. Full of him. Whenever your cunt squeezed with pleasure, it hurt. And it felt good. 
“It’s almost too easy,” Zenos said, his voice finally showing the strain of pleasure and exertion. “You will come for me again, will you not?”  
The moan you couldn’t bite back was meant to be denial. It wasn’t. 
“Savor it,” Zenos said, even softer. “No other man will fulfill you as I do.”
By the twelve, his voice filled you like smoke, swirling in your head, inundating your entire body. It was all Zenos. The sweet scent of his hair, the solid strength of his body as he held you, as he fucked you. His cock. Gods, it reached places inside of you that you weren’t even aware of before then. The drag of calloused fingertips on your clit. You could hate him but right then you were practically choking on your pleasure, on the intoxication of it all. 
And then you were coming, your pussy clamping down around his cock and your body going painfully tense. Behind you, Zenos grunted, and you met that with a helpless moan, shuddering apart, liquid heat making everything right for a few lovely moments. 
Reality reclaimed you quickly. Sweaty, aching, bloody, trembling, and breathless. 
“Ss-no-oh more,” you gasped out, your body shying away as pleasurable release became overstimulated horror and nausea. To your surprise, he did, holding your shaking body in place while you both caught your breath. After a moment of agonizing stillness, Zenos lifted you up and off of him, letting you fall onto the floor in a pile of awkward limbs, panting and trembling and reeling. Firm hands flipped you onto your back. The cold floor was uncomfortable against your bare shoulders, and painfully hard. 
As you had several times before in far less disadvantageous situations, you stared up at Zenos. Behind him, the kami memorialized on the wall seemed to shiver in the warm yellow light, their painted visages watching the desecration of their shrine. Zenos’s hulking figure covered your view of the sun kami, his golden hair making him out to be a mockery of the divine. 
He was still hard, his erection shining with red-tinged slick. The sight echoed the throbbing pain inside of you, inciting a fresh wave of panicked defensiveness. Before you could try and get away, Zenos grabbed your legs, callously hauling you up so your thighs could lay over his, your legs propped up against his torso. 
“What’re-”
“Alas, our time together is running short. I can no longer entertain your needs.”
With one hand holding you in place by the bruised neck, he used the other to stroke himself, measuring his cock against your abdomen to gauge how deep he was going. The sight was dizzying. No wonder there was blood. The weight was startling as well, the pure overwhelming physical difference between the two of you. It all made your head spin. Your own arousal smeared in a pinkish stain across your skin as you squirmed, your pussy squeezing painfully around nothing. Zenos ignored your reaction, appraising the sight with an unreadable expression before his eyes dragged upward. 
Throughout all of this, you had retained your undershirt and bra. The fabric was bunched up to your waist, drenched with sweat. Nearly translucent. He said that you were appealing earlier, but the way he looked at you didn’t betray any sort of attraction, nor disgust. Just interest, curiosity. 
“‘Tis a shame we haven’t the opportunity to truly savor this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his expression remaining composed. “Your body is,” he let out a breath through his teeth, his eyes dragging further down, “uniquely gratifying.” 
The praise, such as it was, made your pussy clench down around nothing, sending hot waves of pain throughout your lower half. And he intended for more. Gods have mercy. 
“Nn-no more” you said hoarsely. “Anything else, I ca-ah-” You yelped when he grabbed you by the waist, effortlessly lifting you despite the way you thrashed. One of your kicks nearly landed, but he pulled out of the way at the last second.  
Wordlessly, Zenos slapped you across the face. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever been slapped, but the point wasn’t to hurt you. It was meant to stun you, to humiliate you. And it worked. The shock made you fall still, your face blazing. He used your compliance to work his cock into you. The inexorable stretch surprised you all over again. Impossibly hard, unyielding.
“You’ve naught else to offer, beast,” Zenos said, sliding you all the way down. You choked, shuddered, not wanting to watch him but unable to look away. Zenos’s eyes fluttered shut, chin tilting back with the faintest expression of pleasure. Almost serene. “Not yet. This is but a prelude of what’s to come.” 
He rolled his hips once, twice before the trance was broken, and he looked at you, watching your reaction as he pulled you off of him, as you tensed and shuddered and grit your teeth against the pain as he thrust back into your pussy with a sloppy, filthy slap of skin. The position, the way he was holding you, the control he had over your body—it was borderline masturbatory. He was using you as somebody would use an object. Unlike before, he could thrust to the hilt every time. Too deep, skin slapping skin, his cock forcing your body to make space where there was none. 
Despite the throbbing ache, you were wet enough to ease his way. You moaned brokenly, half sobbing. You couldn’t do anything other than take it. Zenos didn’t seem overly concerned with you anyway, focused on using your body to reach his own end. 
You yelped when his hand closed around your bruised, sore neck again, your eyes meeting his in new panic. Zenos didn’t look at you like a lover, or even with overt pleasure. His eyes were wide and excited, his lips stretched in something like a smile. Insanity and bliss. 
“Tell me, has any other man known you in this way?” Zenos asked, his voice unraveled into joyous breathlessness. “Known your thirst for pleasure through violence, for depravity through blood?”  
“No!” you responded quickly, forcing the word out despite the pressure on your throat in the hopes he’d let up. 
“This passion… it is new to me as well.” 
“Zenos, please s-slo-” Your plea broke apart when he released your throat to grab your waist again, twisting your hips. Even through the pain, you could feel the way it changed the angle in which he entered you, and the raw echo of pleasure.
“The great eikon-slayer… would beg?” he asked. He was insane. He was insane and he was going to fuck you to death while smiling that insane smile. You whined, trying to get his hands to loosen enough for you to squirm away. For all the good it did. He wasn’t even fucking you, just sliding you up and down his cock with the unbreakable grip he had on your waist. “Go on then, beast. Beg.” 
“N-no, Zenos, ss-stop.”
“Endure the pain,” he told you. And then, a moment later, “You are worthy of it.” 
You whined, a sound that became a wail when he twisted your hips again. Everything was too loud, the ugly noise of skin slapping skin echoing off of the walls, your ragged  breathing, and your heart thundering like an engine. It was more than you could take to hear Zenos moan too, low in his chest, his hips finally meeting yours as he grew closer to his own end. 
You only realized Zenos didn’t intend to pull out at the point that his hips were stuttering, his hands holding onto you tight enough that his thumbs could touch, each uneven stroke pushing his cock as deep as possible. 
“Nn-No, you ca-can’t,” you said, fresh tears in your eyes. 
“You will take my seed,” Zenos said, openly wearing his pleasure at your reaction as he stared down at you. “Be grateful.” 
It wasn’t any more or less miserable than all that had already happened, but the facsimile of intimacy made you whimper. So cruel. Zenos watched you as he came, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. His fingers dug bruises into your waist. Your entire body jolted with each uneven thrust, your cunt squeezing his cock as if you wanted this. And you could have sworn you felt his cum against your painfully raw inner walls as he came. He didn’t waste any of it, not pulling out until he was entirely finished.  
Zenos let you fall onto the floor, his breathing heavy as he sat back. You curled your legs inward, wincing at the mess oozing out of you. There was no part of you that wasn’t painful and messy. Covered in blood and sweat and bruises, half naked, and utterly exhausted. Unlike you, Zenos didn’t look all that much worse for wear. Nothing that couldn’t be easily fixed. Sparing no moment for sentimentality of any kind, he fixed his clothes. There was nothing you could do about your own.  
“You will forgive me,” Zenos said, his voice low and husky. “In my enthusiasm… mayhap I went too far.” 
There was nothing to make you profoundly regret every single one of your previous decisions like looking into the empty blue eyes of your enemy feeling a mixture of blood and cum ooze out of you. Unsure if you could trust your voice, you just glared at him. His lips curled with the slightest promise of amusement. 
“Yes, it is a shame our time was so limited,” he said, standing up. “But we both have more important matters to attend to.” 
He stooped down to grab his coat on the way out. It was sprinkled with dried blood. You hoped it was ruined. 
“I’ll kill you, you know,” you said when he was at the door. Your voice was hoarse and ruined, but the words were clear enough. You meant them too. Not even out of malice, it just seemed so strikingly obvious. “Unless you kill me now.”  
Zenos hesitated and, for a second, you wondered if he was actually going to do it. “Go lick your wounds,” he finally said. Once the door was open, he paused again, speaking without turning around. “Until we meet again, my beast.” 
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anniebear-92 · 1 year
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Paw Prints
First, I would like to apologize for the delay between the last chapter and this one. I had a lot going on in my life recently and have not had the ability to get this posted. I had it mostly written but again life happened to push it back. I have decided that I will be doing Five total parts to this so if you'd like to be added to the tag list let me know. Thank you again to everyone who has shown me love on these posts. They mean the world to me!
Previous Chapters: Part One Part Two
Part Three: Returning home after a stressful day at school you find a complete stranger on your couch. Talk about icing on the cake! Maybe we'll finally get some answers around here!
Warnings: Slight reference to a NSFW object and an act if you squint. Otherwise SFW
To say it had been a day would be an understatement.
You had gone through a multitude of tests, had your lovely piece of crap break down on you only to come home and find an intruder on your couch! A, handsome, muscular… semi naked one that had fluffy ears nestled in his sandy blonde hair and a tail that flicked behind him in faux anger. Reminding you immediately of a certain feline that seemed to be MIA at the current moment.
"Who the hell are you?"
His head tilted slightly as the blanket loosely hung around his hips began to slide, revealing more and more ever so slowly than you needed to see. A look of pure confusion crossed his features as you snatched your bag back up and held it out in front of you when the blanket finally slipped in full as a makeshift barrier to avoid seeing way more of the stranger than necessary.
"What do you mean who am I? I'm Bakugo you idiot!"
Blinking you quickly scanned the area for any hide or hair of the little ball of terror that was normally greeting you at this moment when you returned. Take a few deep calming breaths your gaze returned to his with a skeptical expression of your own.
"You're my cat? Or rather you're a cat?"
His thick arms crossed over a bare chest, your eyes struggled to maintain contact with his own striking pair that narrowed at the implication he was a liar.
"Of course I'm a cat! I'm not your or anyone's pet! You just happen to feed me and let me sleep here!" He threw his arms around during his little outburst while you attempted to keep the bag in your view at all times for modesty.
"Alright! Alright! Can you please just at least put the blanket back around you for now?"
Finally breaking into his annoyed rambling he paused after a brief moment and with a quick roll of his eyes snatched the blanket to wrap around his waist. You slowly lowered the bag with a grumbled thank you and dropped it beside you, completely uninterested in it after the day's events.
You began moving forward towards the large cat eared man, eyes searching him for any indication of his intent to harm you. Though his face set in a scowl was a bit off putting you did not get the sense of any immediate danger.
You slowly sank into the arm chair beside the couch, your hand running over your features in pure exhaustion.
"Are you ready yet? You fucking stink."
Peeking through your fingers you found the tall man looming above you, dropping your hand with a gasp in surprise he huffed at your reaction.
"This is routine by now why are you freaking out? You come home smelling like shitty dog and I make you smell tolerable!" He shifted his stance to lean forward, his nose twitching as his right ear flicked in pure annoyance. The tip of his tail peeked out from under the blanket, curling and uncurling to show he wasn't as annoyed as he let on.
"I don't understand the dog reference? I haven't seen or pet any dogs today… But that's beside the point! Where the hell is my cat? Seriously!"
Crossing your arms you glowered up at the stranger who let his head fall back with a groan. After a moment he leaned down, both of his large hands gripping the arm chair on either side of you as he thrust his face into yours. His already raspy voice lowering to send shivers down your spine as he emphasized.
"I. Am. Your. Cat."
Your breath made itself as scarce as your missing feline, eyes frantically searching for any hint of deceit from the man a little to close for comfort. You squeaked in response as he audibly sniffed, the skin wrinkling around his nose in disgust until he stood to full height once again before he turned and began marching towards the kitchen, grumbling all the while.
"Fucking hell, coming in here smelling like dog, yelling at me and treating me like you don't know me."
Now that "Bakugo" was out of your personal space, you took a deep inhale to refill your screaming lungs. You peeked over the backrest of the chair, watching as the blonde haired man began digging into the cupboards, throwing out onto the ground objects with a clang that he deemed not worthy of his interest.
What for the love of sweets is going on??
You quickly stood from your seat now taking the opportunity to actually search for your missing cat and prove that the man currently rummaging through your kitchen was actually some crazy cosplayer or something in order to report to the authorities. Disappearing from the living space you began searching high and low, in his normal hiding spots and ones you had yet to find him in the off chance he had taken to new habits while you were gone. Today was one for weird occurences so why not?
Failing in your search thus far you were interrupted by a clearing of the throat, turning while on your hands and knees to peer under the bed. He cocked a brow as he stood with arms crossed and a bewildered expression.
"The hell you doin'?"
Letting out an embarrassed chuckle you stood and brushed off your legs as you avoided gazing back at your handsome intruder.
"Looking for something…" He clicked his tongue while leaning against the doorframe.
"Your cat?"
Giving him a sheepish look he rolled his eyes before exiting the doorway and returning back down the hall for the banging to resume in the kitchen.
Chewing your lip you began digging into the closet for now, behind a few objects here and there you found the item of your search. A box you had stuffed into the back at the beginning of your vacation a few weeks prior. Inside were some old clothes from the times your ex would stay over that you had yet to make plans for returning just yet. Though he was nothing near the size of the blonde man claiming to be your pet, your search through the garments brought a pair of silk basketball shorts with drawstring should be a better fit for now than your couch throw blanket.
For good measure you made a stop at the dresser to pull out the largest shirt you owned, which had made a good sleep shirt for many years. At least he would be properly covered when you inevitably called the authorities to pick up the cat accessory wearing man and could return your blanket where it belonged… after a good wash.
You leaned around the corner to peek at what your "house guest" was doing still in the kitchen to find him chopping away at some vegetables you had just purchased the previous evening, a steaming pan sat on the stove with some ingredients already added inside. The smell that hit your nose almost drug an involuntary noise from you at the wonderful aroma. You were mesmerized for a few moments as you watched him move, the expanse and contract of the muscles in his shoulders and back with the chopping movements of the knife in his hand. He really was attractive… for an intruder.
Gathering your nerves you padded into the kitchen while avoiding the land mines of objects he had tossed onto the floor without care. You cleared your throat to catch his attention after a few moments of silence. To your surprise he didn't speak or acknowledge your presence in any shape or form. Trying once again, he finally gazed at you out of the corner of his eye while dumping his freshly chopped haul into the pan of sizzling sauce.
"You got a hairball or something?"
Blinking for a moment you shook your head at the audacity. "No uh.. Here. I brought you something to wear other than… That." Offering the clothing you gestured to the blanket that still hung low on his hips, his eyes alternating between your own and the garments that hung from your fingers.
"No thanks." He turned his attention back towards the hot stove leaving you sputtering in disbelief.
"Wasn't a question sir! I need you to put this on, you're not wearing any clothes and I will need my blanket back eventually. You can keep them, I don't need them anymore."
His long fingers turned the burner down to a simmer before turning and shooting a glare. "What do I need those for?"
Letting out a breath in annoyance you lifted the clothes while gesturing to your own. "To cover up? Modesty? Pick one I don't care at this point. You're in my house claiming to be my cat and you're naked! Either put on the clothes to be dressed when the police arrive or they'll have to just take you to jail like that!"
He cocked a brow, adjusting his stance to something a bit more relaxed.
"You still don't believe me do you?" Shaking your head and then your hand holding the clothes he finally groaned in annoyance. "Fine!" Snatching the clothes from your hand he dropped them on the counter beside you and began working at the knot holding the blanket around his slender waist. You let out a yelp that had him freezing to look at you, failing your hands you began yelling. "Go change in the bathroom! Or my room! Not here!"
He huffed as the ears on his head flattened, "You have to be so fucking picky? Whatever makes you happy!" Grabbing the clothes from the counter he began stomping towards the hallway leading to the restroom, grumbling all the while. You could barely catch his words but it sounded something like "Been naked here this entire time… now its a problem."
While your guest changed in the other room, you began snooping through what he had been working on before you interrupted. From the visual and aroma alone, your mouth watered in anticipation as you stirred the sauce in the pan. With a quick glance to make sure he was not stomping back out yet, you grabbed a spoon and took a small sample to shove in your mouth.
A groan escaped around the spoon at the flavors that exploded on your tongue. Okay, for a crazy guy who broke into your apartment… he knew how to cook.
"Does it meet your expectations, your majesty?"
The spoon slipped from your fingers and hit the ground with a clang as you rounded to find the culprit behind you. Your sleep shirt fit him perfectly even with a slight strain around the biceps and across the chest. How could this man make those silk shorts look ten times better than your ex ever did??
He snapped you out of your thoughts by shaking the blanket in your field of vision, your hands reaching out and taking it. You mumbled a thank you before skedaddling past him and throwing it in the washer while he returned to his work in the kitchen. Upon returning you found him spoon in hand, using it to point towards your dining table for emphasis.
"I'm making Mapo Tofu, sit your ass at the table and I'll explain when this is done."
With the promise of finally figuring out what the hell was going on you sat as you were told and watched him like a hawk. Telling yourself you were making sure he wasn't going to poison or drug you, the fact that he was insanely attractive moving around the kitchen like he owned the place had absolutely no affect on you…
He placed a steaming plate in front of you and handed you chop sticks before taking a seat himself on the other side of the table. You gave a brief thanks while inspecting the food you could only describe as a culinary work of art, looking worlds better than anything you have ever produced from this kitchen. "Bakugo" on the other side of the table began eating before you even got your first bite in. He used his fingers and raised the bowl to his mouth, ignoring the spare set of chopsticks he had brought out. Picking up your own pair, you gathered the nerve to finally take a bite. Now that everything was all completed you could taste the love and care he put into putting this meal together, maybe he was a chef when he wasn't breaking into people's homes?
A few bites in you stole glances at him while he chewed his own, his gaze locked on you as you waited patiently for him to hold up his promise of giving you the full details. Taking one final bite, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before those striking eyes locked back with yours. You tossed a napkin to him, his body leaning away as if the item would bite him. A deep sigh left you as you pointed to it and then his arm, he rolled his eyes before wiping down his arm and tossing the cloth behind him. You grit your teeth when he spoke.
"Alright what do you want to know?"
You finished your current mouthful before setting down your utensils and interlaced your fingers. "I want to know who you really are, and why you're in my home. You say you're my cat but that's impossible. So.. Who are you and where is my cat?"
He tapped the table with the tip of his finger as his ears twitched, his tail flipping behind him revealing his annoyance beyond his stoic expression. Taking a deep breath he pointed the finger that had been tapping at you as he spoke.
"Listen up you, because I'm going to tell you this once. You're the first human I've revealed myself to so you better listen good! I AM Bakugo. I am a hybrid and have the ability to transform into a cat at will. I was on my own since birth after being separated from my mother. As a kitten I had been picked up from the streets and lived with some extras for a long while until they kicked me out a couple years ago, all because they had a new baby that was clearly more important and god forbid they take care of the pet they've had for years. Shocker."
He leaned back, his eyes trailing away from you as he crossed his arms. His sharp jaw set as he continued, "After I was kicked out I lived on the streets for some time. I was fine on my own and made some friends with some locals… eventually the elements got the better of me and I got sick. Really sick, more so than I ever have been in my life. I couldn't change back, I was stuck in my cat form for the longest time. I attempted so many times to get help, but humans are not always the kindest to strays."
He spit the final words while returning his gaze to yours, his eyes visibly softening as he continued.
"Then you found me and it all… changed."
Listening to his tale you could hear the pain in his voice when he spoke of the family that had abandoned him.
Who would abandon their pet over a child? He could shift between human and a cat?
"So you're really Bakugo?" He nodded, ear twitching as he took another bite of his tofu.
"Originally they called me Katsuki. So I guess I could go by either." You nodded, "So your full name would be Katsuki Bakugo." He shrugged in response, opting to eat his food instead of continuing the conversation.
"So if you really are my cat, why did you chose now to turn back and reveal yourself to me if you never have before?"
He chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes before he set his bowl down once again. "To be honest I didn't have a choice. I had recovered enough finally that my body had apparently returned to the state I could choose my forms again. I woke up just moments before you opened the door and didn't have the time to change back. I only realized my human form when you screamed your head off about stranger danger or some shit."
You snorted as you took your final bite, noticing for the first time the orange and black collar you had gotten him some time ago sitting snuggly around his neck. How had you not noticed that before? "Isn't that tight?" You questioned pointing at your own neck as he eyed you. "A bit, I loosened it earlier."
This guy had to be nuts… right? He cant really be a cat… shifter? Hybrid is that what he called himself? Deciding on a test you crossed your arms while leaning back into your chair. "So if you're really my cat… tell me something that only my cat would know."
He gave the most "Are you serious?" Look as you cocked a brow, clearly proving you were exactly that. He interlocked his fingers and leaned forward with a smirk on his lips.
"You sing, horribly, mind you in the shower." Your jaw dropped, eyebrows lowering to find the audacity this man had. You had perfect pitch!
"You tend to eat sweets in bed, especially a pint of ice cream while watching your favorite show and telling yourself that you'll go for a jog in the morning to work it off… that never happens. You procrastinate your school work until the last minute, dance in the mirror wearing only your underwear when you think no one is looking and last week you dropped a shirt from your laundry basket then picked it up with your toes because you were too lazy to bend over." He finished while sitting back and looking quite smug with himself. You however were unimpressed. "That just sounds like a lot people living alone. Nothing too specific towards me that only my cat would know."
His smirk dropped into a scowl as he searched your face, clearly trying to come up with something only he would know. A slow devious smile crossed his face as he lowered his hands to the table. "Fine, you want to play that game? You have a mole on your left butt cheek, the other day you called me the only man in the world worth a damn and wished I was a real person because you'd marry me. Then that night I yelled at your door until you let me in and you were quick to open your second drawer in the night stand to put away your vi-"
"ALRIGHT THAT'S ENOUGH I BELIEVE YOU!" You quickly cut him off while covering your heated face, turning away while burring your face in the neck of the sweater you wore.
"So should I call you fiancé?"
You shot the Cheshire grinning cat a nasty glare as he popped the final piece of chicken into his mouth. You ran your hands vigorously over your face as you took in everything that had occurred in the last few hours. The buzzing of your phone made you jump a bit, you peered at the flashing screen to read the name of your red haired best friend. Swiping your thumb you answered the call as Bakugo watched you closely.
"Hey Kiri what's up?"
Grumbles so low from the cat across from you interrupted before the redhead could even speak. "Fucking mutt." You cocked a brow making a mental note to ask him about that after the phone call when said best friend spoke.
"What's wrong with you?"
Damn him for catching the weariness in your tone of voice.
"Nothing Kirishima, what did you call for?"
"I got your car fixed. I'm going to drop if off shortly okay?"
Bakugo slammed his hands down on the table, making you fumble the phone before slapping your hands together and catching the phone just before it hit the ground. "No!"
Lifting the phone you could hear Kirishima's distant voice asking if you were okay. Putting the phone back to your ear you shot the cat eared man a confused glance and he shook his head quickly, ears flopping back and forth.
"Sorry, dropped my phone. Cat startled me."
He chuckled a bit "Was that a guy I heard? If you have someone over you could just say that."
Your jaw about hit the floor as you backpedaled. "No! No guy, Bakugo just scared me!" It really wasn't a lie…
"It's okay, you need this after our stressful week at school. I'll bring it by tomorrow. You kids have fun!" The redhead disconnected the call after his sing song tone and you stared at your home screen in disbelief.
This day was so fucked.
"The fuck is your problem?" You snapped, eyes finding the messy haired blonde who shrugged. He picked at his teeth with one of his longer nails, "My house, no dogs allowed."
Taking a deep breath you pinched the bridge of your nose. "First, I'm pretty sure this is my place since I pay all the bills. Secondly, you keep mentioning "Dog" "Mutt" and even pouted when Kirishima called…. Why?"
His ears flattened to his head and his nose wrinkled in disgust. "I do not pout!"
You cocked a brow as he scoffed, "Because Kirishima is a mutt."
You hopped from your chair, marching over and stuck your finger in his face. He looked up at you while searching for your audacity. "That's my best friend. You watch what you say!"
His crimson eyes visibly rolled so hard you thought they were going to pop out of his head. "I'm not saying anything bad about him, it's the truth. He is a mutt. A Dog… He's a Hybrid."
Your eyes widened like saucers, searching his unimpressed expression as you sat in the chair beside him. "He's… a dog hybrid? I've never seen him with a tail or ears like you!" He nodded, standing to pick up the bowls and place them in the sink.
He turned to face you and with his hands on his hips, you observed as his ears flattened against his head to blend with messy hair. The tail that had been flipping behind him slowly became shorter by the second until it was gone and Bakugo stood looking as human as any other person.
"Holy shit you can do that!" You gasped and he snorted.
"Of course I can do that! Why do you think Hybrids are unknown? We can blend among the humans? I chose to be in my cat form because I was "owned" by someone and thought they loved me. I spent a few years on my own, met Kirishima and some of his rowdy idot friends who wouldn't leave me alone! We fell off after an argument about blending in and you know the rest…"
He shook his head and the soft looking ears reappeared along with his tail. Crossing to the living space he stretched out over his normal space on the couch, eyes closing lazily without a care. You now found yourself in the messy kitchen he had caused, looking around at the many items he had just left laying while he now lay himself on the couch. You grit your teeth as he laid there without a single worry as if he paid the bills in the house.
Tip toeing over pans and bowls you found yourself behind the couch after snatching something from the nearby table, his ear twitching in acknowledgement to your presence. You leaned over and asked in your sweetest voice.
"Bakugo, can you please clean up your mess in the kitchen?" He cracked one eye to give you a once over before it closed again with a "No."
You cocked a brow before standing to your full height and raised the bane of your cat's exsistence. The first shot hit him in the face and both ears immediately flatted against his head, eyes flying open as he reared back into the couch.
"What the hell?" He snarled while baring his elongated canines, you simply smiled and asked again. "Mess? Kitchen?"
He huffed while crossing his arms, "Your house, you clean it up!" Your eye twitched as the most sickening grin crossed your features, panic crossing his own when you raised the object once again earning a loud hiss from his throat.
"Last warning or you get the spray bottle Bakugo!" His eyes narrowed into slits as he leaned forward.
"You wouldn't dare!"
A chuckle of defiance left you, fingers squeezing in rapid sucession as the water slapped him in the face at least twice before he rolled for cover off the couch.
"ALRIGHT STOP! I'LL CLEAN UP THE FUCKING MESS!" You held the bottle threateningly as he let out a low growl in warning.
"Good boy."
HIs face heated and tail began flicking excitedly, his long fingers gripping it behind his back to hide his joy. He couldn't let you hold something over his head like that!
With grumbles and glances to make sure you were keeping his enemy at bay, he replaced every object he had thrown to the ground after washing them thoroughly. Satisfied you smiled as he dropped into the spot beside you on the couch, leaning back into the backrest with a large pout on his handsome face.
"Aw somebody upsetti spagetti?"
He rolled his eyes and ducked your hand when you attempted to tussle his hair. A snicker left your lips while you returned your attention back to your favorite show. Silence fell between the two of you, legs curling up underneath you to be more comfortable as the next episode's theme began to play. It took another one until a large weight suddenly fell into your lap and you let out a choice word with your breath.
You found Bakugo resting his head against your legs, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as if this was the largest inconvenience in the world. Testing the waters your reached out slowly and brushed the tips of your fingers against his ears, they twitched for a brief moment before pressing into your hand. Brave now you thread your fingers through the soft locks of the messy haired hybrid, his eyebrows every so slowly releasing the tension. Your gaze explored the details of his handsome face while you continued to pet his hair.
He had the sharpest jaw you had ever seen, equally straight nose and flawless skin that was so soft as you ran your fingers from his hair down along his jaw. A rattle emanated from his chest just as those vibrant crimson eyes became visible once again, watching you with interest. You shot him a soft affectionate smile just as he raised his hand to catch your wrist. You could definitely get used to this. He brought the hand closer to him, taking a deep inhale.
"You still stink."
He hit the floor with a thump, landing on his hands and knees. "The fuck?" Snarling he bared his teeth as you huffed.
"Do not make me get the spray bottle."
He rolled his eyes and returned to the couch. He lifted your arms to your protests and threw them over his shoulders. Your face heated as he leaned forward and wrapped his thick arms around your waist. You yelped as he constricted them and pulled you into his lap snuggly, your face burring into his chest. You blinked rapidly as the low rattle of his purring began again, he lowered his face against your hair to rub back and forth for a few minutes before he finally just sat there holding you. His grip tightened around your waist as he buried his face into your shoulder.
"Thank you."
You tensed at his whisper, sliding your head up to look at him. "For what?" You asked in an equally hushed tone.
"For taking care of me. Returning me back to… me."
You leaned back when he loosened the grip around your waist, the expression on his face somber as he gazed at you. Offering him a soft smile you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in tightly.
"You're welcome Katsuki."
Taglist: @lunrai @nonomesupposedto @j-brielmalfoy @bitchimaghost2
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try-set-me-on-fire · 3 months
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Fic Writing Review 2023
Words and Fics
107,074 words published to ao3
1 fandom (9-1-1)
Most recent: I’m still standing in the same place where you left me standing
Longest fic: not counting the short fic collection it’s where all of the people dancing and clapping would great me with such warmth (15k)
Top 3 by Kudos
pick me, choose me, love me (trapped Buck and Chris)
all my life, there you go (collection of soft prompts)
maybe fall in love (first fic posted for the fandom! It’s a hot night in LA…)
Personal Favorite
I’m actually very fond of a lot of them but I’ll shout out All the work that needs to be done aka Bobby dies fic sorry Bobby I just think I did good work here…
Upcoming Projects for 2024
Oooobh I have so many wips…. I feel like I need to finish season 7 fight fic before the new season comes out and blows it out of the water (possibly literally with that promo…), but nurse Eddie my beloved… quilt shop au… proposal fic my languishing child…. Literally any of the other ones I’ve ever talked about….
That said I was thinking about how it’s weird I’ve never made either a Buddie adopt another kid or Buck obtains a child fic, I love making up children for characters…. Maybe that’ll get added to the slate…
And of course we’ll see what inspiration the new season brings…
Rules and Tags
Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.
Tagged by @daffi-990 and others but it’s so far back in my notifications and hard to find my deepest apologies
Tagging (if you already did this or tagged me I’m sorry) @burins @shortsighted-owl @shitouttabuck @rewritetheending @chronicowboy @homerforsure @eddiebabygirldiaz @malewifediaz @rogerzsteven @butchdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @buckactuallys @lover-of-mine @jeeyuns @ anyone who’s tagged me in anything all year I have terrible memory for urls but know I’ve appreciated it every time!! You’ve all been so nice when I suddenly dropped from the sky and started yelling about these dumb firefighters alongside you, and I’m grateful for you all!
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bellofthemeadow · 9 months
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The Road Ahead - Epilogue | Frankie Morales x female reader
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Series Masterlist
Previous Chapter
For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.
But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.
Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)
Word Count: 4K
Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty
Chapter Summary: This isn't the end, rather it is just the beginning of the rest of your life.
Notes: All right everyone, this is it. I can't believe this story is over, I am so happy I took the plunge and started to post online. This experience has been wonderful and you all have been amazing. Thank you to everyone who commented, liked or reblogged this story you guys helped me so much when I thought about giving up. If ever anyone wants more content from this universe I'd be more than happy to answer any prompts or asks. Now I am unto my Joel Miller x reader fic, I know a bunch of you want to be tagged and I am working on figuring out how :D
Hope you all enjoy this last chapter and in the meantime, take care of yourselves and I love you all very much xoxox
Family
"Here you go, a large sparkling water with three slices of lemon. You know I would've made a lemonade if you wanted; it would probably taste better than that stuff. Smells sour as hell." Will puts the large glass on the small table next to the pool lounge chair. You smile over your sunglasses.
"Thanks, Will. I really appreciate it," you express with gratitude. "Lemonade is just too sweet, these days only something that packs a good sour punch can even begin to curb my cravings. I think that if I send Frankie on another midnight hunt for Warheads, he might just end up moving back in with Alma," you add playfully, a mischievous glint in your eyes. As you speak, you pluck one of the large lemon slices off the glass and eagerly sink your teeth into the tangy, bitter flesh, savouring the burst of sour flavour hitting your tongue.
Will scrunches his nose. "Fish told me he saw you put a whole bag of Sour Patch Kids in your vanilla milkshake last week. Anything else we gotta be worried about, except for major heartburns and fried taste buds?" Will teases. You playfully put one of your hands on your taut round stomach. "Gotta keep the little one happy, and he insists that a milkshake with Sour Patch Kids is the breakfast of champions." Will smiles, trying to hide his amusement. "Hope you're still getting all of your food groups, though." You roll your eyes in jest. "My goodness, you're worse than Frankie. Don't worry, this isn't my first rodeo. I know what I'm doing." Will raises his hands in surrender. "My apologies didn't mean to offend. I know you know what you're doing. I just want to make sure you're all right.” A pause, as pregnant as you are, emerges “Are you alright?"
A giddy smile makes its way to your face. "Better than ever. Honestly, you have nothing to worry about, Will. I am thriving," you exclaim as you shimmy your shoulders in a little up-and-down dance. Will softens at your little display. "I am glad, then. You know I am always there if you need anything, right?" "I know, Will. And thank you." You hum in response before a comfortable silence opens between you two as Will looks over to where his brother is trying his best to not burn the burgers under Pope’s disapproving glare.
You gasp as you feel your baby start kicking you as if there's a goddamn karate class going on near your ribcage. You hold your breath for a second, feeling the rhythmic movements, before the kicking recedes. You lovingly place your hand on your stomach, feeling the gentle flutter within. "Are you okay? Is anything hurting? Do I need to get Fish?" Will's voice is filled with genuine concern.
You let out a joyful laugh. "No, no, don't worry, it's all right. Don't bother Frankie; he seems very focused on his task at hand." With a playful gesture, you wave your hand in Frankie's direction, where he's holding a not-so-little Ella just above the water, teaching her the proper way to kick her small pudgy legs to stay afloat. Despite being just over 3 years old, Ella is more interested in gleefully splashing her papa with water kicks than learning any of the supposed swimming techniques. Frankie, however, looks absolutely delighted, and after a particularly vigorous splash to his face, he playfully plunges Ella with him underwater. When they resurface, Ella is screeching with excitement, her tiny fists reaching out to grab her father.
Both you and Will can't help but laugh at the adorable display, shaking your heads with fondness. You return your attention to your growing bump and softly caress it. "When I was pregnant with Ella, she was the calmest little baby around. It all changed when she was born; then she turned into a little tornado," you reminisce, a hint of amusement in your voice. "I hope that since this little one enjoys using my bladder as his personal trampoline and keeps me up until the early hours of the morning, it means he'll be a little ray of sunshine after he is born."
You feel another kick, causing you to huff in response. Your eyes shift to Will, who looks amazed by your side, and you can't help but smile. "You want to feel it?" you ask, noticing Will's uncertainty and the hesitation in his eyes. "Come on, I'm sure he's excited to meet his uncle." Seeing him struggle a bit more, you take matters into your own hands, guiding one of Will's hands decisively to your round, 6-month bump.
You both wait with bated breath, but it's not long before your little karate champion makes himself known. "Woah, that's insane! Does it hurt a lot?" "It's uncomfortable, but nothing that I can't handle." Honestly, you love how rambunctious your little baby boy is. Since you started feeling him, some of your best memories were you sitting on the couch with Frankie's hand sprawled over your taut stomach and Ella sitting in your lap, talking to her soon-to-be baby brother.
"It's been great, magical really. Couldn't ask for anything better." You gulp the last of your sparkling water and suck another lemon slice into your mouth while Will shakes his head affectionately. "I am glad to hear it. We were all a bit worried when you two announced this new baby. I guess we were a bit scared Frankie was going to fall back into... old destructive habits. But I guess we were worried for nothing." Will gulps from his beer, while you munch on your slice of sour heaven.
"I was worried too, don't get me wrong," you admit, a hint of vulnerability in your voice. "Those first few weeks, I was so afraid Will. Couldn’t keep my eyes from Frankie, I hovered like one of his helicopters, like I already condemned him you know. God, I could barely sleep. But now, looking back, I realize that we were all worried for nothing."
You pause for a moment, a sense of pride evident in your words. "It's going to be three years in two months, you know. Three years of sobriety." A spark of excitement lights up your eyes as you share your plans. "I'm planning a pretty big party to celebrate, so you and Ben better clear your schedules for late May," you say playfully, wagging your finger in front of Will's face, reminiscent of a mom giving orders to her child. Will responds with a smile, placing his hand over his heart in a salute stance. "Roger that," he affirms seriously.
You smile, relishing in the tranquillity of the moment, before feeling a pair of wet arms envelop you from behind. An equally wet torso presses against your back, and you can't help but let out a playful screech as you try to wiggle your way out of the tight embrace. Your legs flail in the air as Frankie's nose nuzzles against your neck, eliciting a tickling sensation, and his hands dance across your side. You laugh so hard that tears fall down your eyes, while Will is laughing even harder at your predicament.
"Stop it, Frankie! You're getting me all wet!" You can feel Frankie's smile turn devious against your neck as he hikes up toward your ears and whispers low enough so that Will wouldn't hear. "That's not what you were saying last night when I was getting you wet. You were a bit louder, screaming my name for 'More, more, Frankie!'" He finishes his sentence in a shrill tone, a poor imitation of your voice. You swat him, feeling heat rushing to your body.
Will looks at both of you with a knowing smile before teasing you more. "You look overheated. Maybe you should lie down for a bit." "Shut up, Miller," you grumble. "I can't believe you two are ganging up on me!" you exclaim dramatically.
"Sorry, mi cielo," Frankie begins, attempting to untangle his arms from your side, but you swiftly grab hold of him, keeping his arms right where they were. "Don't you dare, Morales," you assert, a hint of playfulness in your voice. Frankie responds with an affectionate eye roll, nudging your side in response. "Let me tell you, Will, pregnancy makes them hard to follow," he remarks, attempting to defend himself. You let out a displeased huff, not fully convinced. "Don't talk as if all women are a monolith," you retort.
"Sorry, you are right, mi cielo," Frankie says reverently, acknowledging your point. However, a mischievous glimmer dances in his eyes as he turns to face Will. "Pregnancy makes this one hard to follow," he playfully adds, eliciting laughter from all three of you. You let your head fall back onto Frankie's firm torso, playfully nipping at his jaw. "You shouldn't be mean to me. You know it's your baby who's been using me as his private target practice," you retort with a hint of mock indignation.
Frankie's expression softens as he leans in to kiss the top of your head. "You are right. Will my beautiful pregnant wife forgive me?" You respond with an exaggerated haughty tone, pretending to consider his plea. "Maybe, what do I get if I grant you leniency?"
"We could stop by Sonic after the BBQ, grab..." "Milkshake and Sour Patch Kids?!" You screech. "Forgiven, completely forgiven!" You exclaim excitedly. You hear Will laugh in front of you. "You two are a sight to see, making me believe in love and all that jazz." "What can I say? You won’t find a woman like my beautiful wife on every street corner. I gotta make sure that she is as happy as possible. Can't lose her, so if that means that everything in the house tastes like lemon or acid mouthwash, then so be it."
"Where is our little tornado?" you crane your neck trying to check your surrounding as you realize that Frankie came to see you alone. Frankie points back to the pool where she is getting thrown around by an overexcited Benny. It was a hard process to get Benny and Frankie's relationship back to what it used to be. Both men bruised, Frankie believing that Benny wanted to replace him in your and Ella's life, and Benny angry that Frankie would think so low of him.
It was only after you and Will had conspired to lock them in the Miller's basement for an entire day that things had begun to repair themselves. When you had come back with Will and opened the door, you had seen the two men sitting down, their backs against the hard concrete walls, and a bunch of beers littering the unfinished floor. You had scrunched up your nose, put your hands on your hips, and spoke in the same tone you used when Ella was misbehaving. "Are you two ready to get along, or do we need to lock you in overnight?" Will had stood behind you like a bouncer, ready to throw hands if necessary.
But in the end, both men had simply laughed and, clearly drunk, had held onto each other as they scrambled to their feet. The sight would have been rather pathetic if it wasn't for the laughter the two men were sharing. They assured you that they were the best of friends again before launching into a long-winded explanation, cutting each other off with "You know I would die for you, Ben" and "Nothing compares to you, Fish. You are the best man ever." All in all, it was a good result, one that you and Will were satisfied with. You had let the two men leave after getting them to promise that they would start getting along again, which led to another rant on promises, brotherhood, and love. So yeah, satisfied.
Now it was as if all those awkward months between the two men had never existed, and their bond was stronger than ever. Frankie didn't feel insecure that Benny was Ella's favourite uncle (although that changed every day and highly depended on who brought the biggest gift or the sweetest treat—today it was Benny with the new rendition of "Mermaid Barbie"). And Benny was just happy to be a part of your extended family of six.
Frankie tenderly strokes your belly, his touch filled with love and gratitude, before locking eyes with you. In that silent exchange, you offer him an encouraging nudge with your shoulder, urging him to speak his mind. Frankie coughs, trying to mask his nervousness, before finally gathering his words. "Actually, Will, there's something we wanted to ask you," he begins. Will nods, signalling for Frankie to continue. "You know how challenging these past couple of years have been, overcoming my struggles with drugs and everything. But through it all, you've been there for me. You've helped me immensely with the court case, my sobriety, and supporting the girls. I feel incredibly fortunate to have you as my brother, Will."
Touched by Frankie's words, Will's expression softens, genuine gratitude shining in his eyes. "Fish, we're family. I'd move mountains to help you, and your work at the VA has been remarkable. The conferences you lead on addiction and recovery for veterans are making a real difference. I should be thanking you.” A tinge of embarrassment colours Frankie's cheeks, his friend's compliment catching him off guard. Ever since Frankie achieved sobriety and regained his piloting license, Will arranged for him to lead weekly conferences at the VA. Frankie would meet with a group and talk about his experience, the importance of speaking up and opening up, the importance of seeking help, and how it wasn't a failure to help yourself and be there for those you love. Frankie had flourished in this role, finding purpose and fulfillment.
"But really," Frankie continues, breaking through his momentary bashfulness, "I wouldn't be where I am today if you hadn't paved the way for me at the VA. For that, and for everything else, we want you to play a significant role in little Javi's life.”
Will frowns in incomprehension. "Well, I intended to be a part of Javi's life. You don't have to ask so formally." Will teases, while Frankie shakes his head. You come to the rescue, placing a comforting hand atop your husband's, resting on your growing belly.
“What Frankie is trying to ask, Will, is if you would consider becoming Javi's godfather." Will's eyes widen in surprise as if the notion is beyond his wildest expectations. "Me?! Godfather?! Shouldn't you be asking the Pope for something like that!?”
Frankie shakes his head, rejecting the suggestion with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Don't be stupid, ironhead," he retorts. "Pope’s head is big enough as it is being Ella's godfather. And I don't want to inflate his ego any further. Besides, there's no one I'd rather have as my boy's godfather than you."
You see Will soften as tears well up in his eyes. "Thank you, Fish. That means... It means the world to hear that," he says, his voice filled with emotion. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to live up to what you expect of me." You can't help but let out a playful snort, knowing all too well that his formal tone is a feeble attempt to conceal the depth of his feelings. Behind that stoic facade, Will is a big softie, and right now he is on the verge of dissolving into a puddle of tears.
Will clears his throat once again, and you notice tears glistening in the tall blond man's eyes. "I... Thank you, Fish... I... I have to tell Ben!" Will scrambles to his feet and exclaims loudly, "Ben, guess who's going to be the godfather!!!" The response is a shocked "WHAT?!" as you spot Ella attempting to use Benny's head as a trampoline. A snort escapes you as you relax against your husband's chest, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. With your husband's strong presence behind you, your daughter happily playing with her uncles, and your baby boy safe and snug in your belly, you softly whisper, "I don't think it can get any better than this."
Frankie's gentle humming resonates behind you, his fingers lazily tracing circles on your growing belly. You turn your head, a quizzical expression lighting up your features as you meet his gaze. A warm smile graces Frankie's lips before he leans in to plant a soft, tender kiss on yours.
"I wouldn't know," he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress. "Every day I spend with you is more wonderful than the last, mi cielo. I can only imagine how tomorrow will surpass even today." His words send a rush of heat through you, a deep feeling of being cherished and adored. One you only feel with Frankie.
You shift your body, the weight of your burgeoning belly making it a slight challenge, until you face Frankie, perched securely on his strong, muscular thighs. He holds you close, ensuring you won't slip, his touch providing both comfort and desire. You love how Frankie can make you feel safe and excited at the same time in an overpowering cocktail of desire and want. You press your lips against his, murmuring against his plump ones, "You have such a way with words, Mr. Morales, and I love you deeply." Frankie's smile blooms against your mouth, his affectionate gaze locked on yours.
"I also know how insatiable you've been lately, Mrs. Morales," he playfully remarks, allowing one hand to wander downwards, firmly grasping a handful of your soft, supple ass. He kneads and squeezes the plushness, igniting a delicious tingling sensation throughout your body. You tease him in response, slowly grinding against him, making sure that no one is looking at the pair of you.
"Ah, but I don't think I'm the only insatiable one here, my love," you whisper mischievously as you feel a bulge growing in Frankie’s swimming trunk. Frankie's breath catches in his throat. "Of course, how could I be anything but insatiable when my wife is out here looking like a goddamn dream." You roll your eyes. "Please, my belly is the size of a basketball, and I'm pretty sure my ankles have disappeared with how swollen they are." Frankie starts kissing your face all over, punctuating each kiss with an endearing word: "Beautiful. My. Beautiful. Girl. Never want anyone else." You feel yourself melt against him.
"OI!" Both you and Frankie turn your heads where Benny stands in the shallow end of the pool, Ella perched on his shoulder, her little hands covering her eyes. Benny's exasperated tone fills the air. "Can you save that for the bedroom, you animals? There are children around!”
"Pendejo," Frankie whispers under his breath, while you try to wiggle out of his grip and gather yourself in a more presentable position. But Frankie holds you where you are. "It's high time you find yourself a girlfriend if you need to get your rocks off looking at my wife and me!" Frankie screams back.
Benny gets all red and huffy, and you can hear some expletives being thrown your way. "Goddamn idiots... acting like high school kids... no shame... A girlfriend?! Idiots." In response, Ella swats him hard on the head where she is still resting and screeches, "LANGUAGE! Mama, 'cle BenBen said a no-no vord!" You smile. "Indeed he did, Estrelita. Looks like Uncle BenBen needs a little punishment!" Ella erupts into laughter, thoroughly amused by the prospect, while Benny's expression betrays a mix of fear and unsureness as Ella proceeds to sway back and forth on his shoulder screaming loudly about the bad language.
"You think we should rescue him?" Frankie asks. You consider the situation before responding with a noncommittal tone, "Nah, he's a big boy, he'll be fine.”
Frankie looks pensive for a second "Do you ever regret it?" he asks, his tone laced with vulnerability.
"Regret what?" you reply, genuinely puzzled by his inquiry.
Frankie's frown deepens, and he searches for the right words to convey his thoughts. "Taking me back. Starting again. No one would have blamed you if you had chosen to leave,” Frankie, for all the work he has been doing for the past three years, for all the individual and couple therapy he has attended, still sometimes feels like a scared little boy, yearning to be good enough for those he loves.
A soft smile graces your face as you gently stroke his cheek, your touch filled with reassurance. You guide his hands to rest on your taut stomach, emphasizing the life growing within. "There is no one I would rather be with than you, my love," you say tenderly. "Nowhere I would rather be than in your arms. You are everything to me—always have been and always will be.”
As Frankie's tears flow freely, his emotions cascading over him, he keeps his forehead pressed against yours, seeking your warm solace and quiet reassurance that he is enough, that he is loved. Frankie’s voice quivers as he whispers, "I love you so much, Mi Cielo. Thank you for everything you have given me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” A tender silence wraps around you both, allowing space for the weight of his words to settle between you. Frankie's murmurs against your collarbone provide comfort, his soft words acting as a balm to your souls. After a minute, Frankie's voice gently resurfaces. "The road ahead looks rather bright," he begins, his tone soft yet resolute, "and I can't wait to keep walking it with you."
Your smile widens, illuminating your face with pure joy as you savour the sweetness of Frankie's words. The road ahead does shine brightly, you think, as you tenderly place a kiss on Frankie's lips. And no matter how stormy it may become, as storms are inevitable on any journey, you are certain that you wouldn't walk it with anyone else by your side but your beloved Frankie. Like the sun and the sky, you are forever intertwined, destined to navigate the highs and lows together, casting light on each other's path.
Loving each other until the end—that's the life you've always wanted for yourself and Frankie and as you feel another kick from your baby boy and feel Frankie screeches excitedly and he start talking to baby Javi (well to your belly) in quick Spanish, praising the to be born baby. And as you spot baby Ella trying her best to run after Will and Benny while Pope eggs her on you thnk back to when she could barely crawl around. Your hands join Frankie and you feel your heart swell with love and happiness, yes this is all that you’ve ever wanted.
Loving each other until the end—that's the life you've always wanted for yourself and Frankie. As you feel another kick from your baby boy and hear Frankie's excited cheer, expressing his love and admiration, you can't help but smile. He speaks to baby Javi in Spanish, filled with warmth and anticipation, knowing that your family will soon be complete.
 Across the yard, you spot Ella as she playfully chases after Uncle Will and Benny. Surrounded by the warmth of your found family, you feel a deep sense of contentment. This is everything you've ever wanted—the love between you and Frankie, the growth and happiness of your children both here and yet to be born, the bonds of friendship that only strengthen over time. Holding Frankie's hand, you know that together you will continue to build a life filled with love, support, and countless moments of joy. This is the life you've always dreamed of, and it fills your heart to the brim with love. The road ahead is bright indeed.
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