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emotionalcadaver · 19 days

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Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Tommy navigates through processing Lizzie's news and what it might mean for his relationship with Lucy.

Word Count: 7,755

Notes: I hope you all don't mind this chapter being longer than I usually make them. I couldn't really find a good place to cut it in half, and there wasn't much that I could cut out, either. Poor Lucy has the lowest self esteem in the entire world. Warnings for depictions of pregnancy, angst, jealousy, smut, and references to abortion.

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Chapter 18: Seemingly Incurable Sadness

Tommy’s hands squeezed tight around the steering wheel, fighting to ignore the way that his lungs burned for a cigarette. His stomach churned with anxiety, mind still reeling.

The awkward silence between him and Lizzie stretched on and on within the confines of the car as he drove them through the winding streets towards her lodgings. Her words from when they’d spoken in his office still rang in his head.

“Yes, it can only be yours.”

“I’m keeping it.”

“A baby. A little you and me.”

His throat felt suddenly intensely dry. He wanted to slap himself.

Fucking hell, the one goddamn time he doesn’t pull out…

He’d been too lost in memories of Greta during that time between him, Lucy, and Lizzie down by the canal. It had not even occurred to him until later that he had failed to take necessary precautions.

He let out a small, harsh sigh. An internal scream was sounding in his head, hoping that somehow this was all a nightmare he would wake up from at any moment. He didn’t want to have a baby with Lizzie. He didn’t want to be shackled to her for the rest of his life.

But it wasn’t like he was going to force her to get rid of it.

He would buy her a house. He would be involved in the child’s life. He would support her financially–he certainly could afford to. But outside of that, he had no intention of committing anything deeper to her.

The last thing that he wanted was to give her yet more hope that something was ever going to happen between them.

He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Lizzie had been expecting him to drop instantaneously to one knee with a marriage proposal the very moment that the announcement of her pregnancy left her lips.

Pulling the car over against the curb directly in front of Lizzie’s lodgings, he killed the engine, half hoping that she would just get out and leave him alone without another word.

He needed some time to himself, to properly collect his thoughts.

“Would you like to come up?” Lizzie asked, voice soft.

“No.”

Still, she made no move to get out of the car. “What will you tell Lucy?” she finally asked, and Tommy had to suppress a wince at his lover’s name, guilt roiling within him so violently that for a moment he thought it might make him sick.

It had been the very first thought that had come to him, after the initial shock had worn off and he was left with the weight of the reality that Lizzie had just dumped at his feet: Christ, what am I going to tell Lucy?

He had fucked up. Colossally so. Sure, Lucy had been there in the canal too, but she wasn’t the one who’d gone and accidentally impregnated Lizzie while knowing better than to not be so careless. That was all him.

And now he had to go tell his sweet, wonderful girlfriend that he’d gone and knocked up someone else.

Again.

At least with Grace, the three of them had been in love. They’d wanted to be together. This time around was different entirely.

“I’ll tell her the truth,” he said softly, clearing his throat. Anxiety twisted in his chest at the mere thought, despite his attempts to talk himself around it. To remain optimistic. He had no intention of leaving Lucy. Things could still remain as they were, between them.

Now, if she left him, that would be another story. He didn’t think that she would, but, well…

He wouldn’t blame her, if she did.

“I feel sorry for her.”

His brows knit together in confusion, something in Lizzie’s tone sending alarm bells off in his head. It did not sound like a simple statement of sympathy for how this whole situation might affect her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, after you split up with her, I doubt there will be much of a place for her here at all anymore–”

“No.” It came out perhaps harsher than necessary, and Lizzie’s mouth shut, her jaw tightening. But he needed to get it through to her; make it crystal clear. “Under no circumstances will I be leaving Lucy.” Lizzie opened her mouth to argue. “Ever.” He put as much firm, immovable emphasis on the word as he could without shouting.

“I’m having your fucking baby, Tommy. Why does she get to be more important than that?”

“Lizzie, please…” he pinched at his brow, battling back a headache. Working hard to keep himself level headed. “I will take care of you. I will take care of the baby, but I’m not…I can’t promise you anything more than that. And I’m not dumping Lucy out onto the street like garbage so that you can play out some fucking fantasy–”

“You’re the one living in a fantasy!” she snapped. “You’re going to make our child a bastard! I know how this goes, Tommy. You’ll stash us away out in the countryside, right? Only to be visited on the rare occasion that you have time for us.”

“That isn’t what I’m saying–”

“No?” she sneered. “You’re going to allow it to be public knowledge that you have an illegitimate child? I’m sure that will do wonders for your reputation.” Her tone dripped with sarcasm. “I will not allow my child to be shoved aside while you gallivant around with that little tart–”

“Oi!” This time he did shout, voice echoing throughout the interior of the car. Lizzie cringed back at the sound, shoulders drawing in, and a look of immediate regret passed across her face. Had he not been so frustrated, he may have found it fascinating: the way that she seemed to almost rouse, like she had been stuck in a trance of anger and jealousy before his bellow of fury snapped her out of it. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”

“I’m sorry,” she looked down at her hands. “I didn’t mean…” she trailed off, looking out the window. “I didn’t mean that.”

Tommy wiped a hand down his face. There were about a dozen things he’d like to say to her, but he decided to refrain. At least until after he’d spoken to Lucy and knew where she stood on everything.

“If you are going to insist on keeping the baby, I’m not going to fight you on it,” he said, slowly. “But you need to make peace with the fact that Lucy is important to me. She will always be important to me. She’s a part of my life. You have to accept that, Lizzie.” When she didn’t say anything, instead just staring down at her hands, he let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. “This really shouldn’t be so big of a shock.”

Still, Lizzie did not answer, just sitting there in angry silence. Tommy shook his head.

“I thought that you and her were getting along,” his voice was quieter, at a loss for what else he could do or say. Only able to hope that somehow, Lizzie would remember that Lucy wasn’t her enemy in all of this. Hell, up until the canal, things had been cordial, even friendly, between them.

Lizzie did not acknowledge his words, turning away sharply and opening the car door, stepping out onto the street. When she turned to slam the door shut behind her, she shot him a look that it took him a beat to recognize as heartbreak.

Guilt crashed down upon him again. For placing them both into this situation. For getting her hopes up again. For not being able to give her what she really wanted.

For, in complete and total honesty, not really wanting to.

Because he would never trade what he had with Lucy for even the remote possibility of having something with Lizzie. Not ever. And the type of love that Lizzie was seeking from him was not the kind that would have room for anyone else.

God, what a fucking mess.

“I know a good realtor. I’ll have him call you so you can start looking at houses,” he tried to offer. Lizzie looked away.

“Whatever.”

He sighed, for perhaps the thousandth time that night. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” she said, still without looking at him, and slammed the car door in his face. He watched her walk to her door, waiting until she was safely inside before turning back on the engine, pulling the car away from the curb, heading towards home.

Towards Lucy.

Dread sprang up in his throat, tasting of bile. He did not know how he was going to face her. Already he could envision it: the way that her big green eyes would look up at him, wide and full of hurt. A tremor traveled down his arms, all the way to his hands. With a sharp jerk, he suddenly yanked the steering wheel to pull over the car, letting the engine idle while he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. The smoke drew deeply into his lungs, helping to somewhat stifle the shakiness of his hands.

His Lucy. His poor Lucy. This was going to hurt her. She would most likely try to pretend that it didn’t, but it would.

And it was his fault.

He loved her. He’d promised never to hurt her, and here he was, about to waltz into their home, drop this whole load of shit at her feet, and ask her to still, somehow, stay with him. He couldn’t be more selfish if he tried.

It had never been his intention to have any more children after Grace died. He had been on the fence about it even prior to her death. In his mind, Charlie had been more than enough, and after learning that Lucy couldn’t get pregnant, the idea of him and Grace having more had felt almost…insensitive. Not that they’d even gotten the chance to ever really discuss it. Grace died before that could happen.

The very thought of Grace was enough to have a burn of tears, both of guilt and sorrow, burning in the back of his throat. It was times like these he was thankful that he did not really believe in an afterlife. The thought of her looking down on him and seeing what he had done made him want to weep with shame.

No, after Grace was gone, more children had not been something either he or Lucy had planned on. She could not have them, and they were more than content with Charlie, Asher, and their horses.

As if things weren’t bad enough already, it was compounded by the reality that Lizzie was about to give him something that Lucy never could. The pain that would cause was not lost on him. Yet another kick to the stomach for his kindhearted redhead to endure. His lover who had never, in all their time together, done anything to hurt him. Certainly not to this magnitude.

He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, striking it as hard as he wished that he could hit himself, palm burning where it collided with the material.

“Fuck!” he screamed.

Face falling into one of his hands, palm rubbing at his forehead and eyes, he drew in a deep, ragged breath. Wedging his cigarette between his lips, Tommy pulled himself together, hands curling around the steering wheel after he put the car back into gear, beginning to once more drive through the dark streets of Small Heath, bouncing slightly along the uneven cobblestones.

He’d drive around for a while before heading home, he decided. To collect his thoughts and figure out just how the hell he was going to tell Lucy about all of this.

A few blocks down the road from home, he came across a flower shop. Breaking in was no trouble, and he left a few shillings on the counter for the bouquet he’d stolen, closing the store up just as he’d found it, settling the flowers on the passenger seat gingerly, making sure that they didn’t get squished.

It felt like not even close to enough given the circumstances, but he had to do something nice for her.

The time spent driving and thinking had only served to triple the anxiety he’d already felt in regards to telling her.

He glanced over at the flowers, swallowing painfully. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. Maybe she wouldn’t leave him.

Still, the thought did little to soothe his nerves, nor did it stifle the swirling self hatred that tormented him the entire drive home.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy ran a hand over her hair, sighing and swirling the whiskey in her glass before raising it to her lips for a sip. Her eyelids felt heavy with exhaustion. Even the very thought of having to change from her work clothes into a nightgown for bed seemed to be too much effort.

After getting home, she’d grabbed a quick snack from the pantry, chatted with Finn for a little while, and then went upstairs to tuck Charlie in and read to him a chapter of the book she and Tommy had been reading to him every night before bed when they were able. He’d crashed about halfway through, and she’d quietly pecked his forehead before placing the bookmark between the pages, switching off the light, and departing from the room to let the little boy sleep.

Standing there in the middle of her and Tommy’s makeshift bedroom, she tapped the metal of her rings against the glass containing her drink, just staring into space. It had been a hard, long day. She hoped that Tommy would be home soon.

Frowning, she took a look at her pocket watch, wondering just what could be taking him so long. She set it down onto the vanity with a soft clink, just as she heard the sounds of a car pulling up outside.

Speak of the Devil.

A moment later she heard the sounds of the front door being opened, and then boots on the stairs.

She set her glass down beside her pocket watch on the vanity, turning with a smile to the door when it opened.

“Hey–” whatever else she might’ve been about to say died on her tongue the moment that she saw his face. He looked ashen, nearly ill; his blue eyes miserable, fixed on her with what she could only call regret and desperation. “What’s going on?” she asked, gaze dropping to the bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. Tommy swallowed hard, setting the bouquet aside onto the nightstand and taking a step towards her, resting both hands on her upper arms.

“Lucy…” his voice wobbled a little at the end of uttering her name, breaking eye contact to look down. Her brows pulled inwards in response to the look of outright shame that crossed his face.

When he looked up at her it was to gently stroke his fingertips down her cheek, eyes fixed upon her face as if trying to memorize it. Like he expected that at any moment she would walk out the door and never return.

“I love you so much,” he said quietly. Her heart jumped into her throat, confusion only building. It wasn’t like declarations of his love for her were a particularly rare occurrence, but there was something about his tone that had a plume of dread twisting inside of her. “I’m so, so sorry, love.”

“What…?”

He replaced his hand on her upper arm, looking down again for only a moment, collecting himself, before forcing his eyes to meet hers. The regret and misery in them nearly bowled her over.

“Lizzie is pregnant.”

Lucy stared at him, feeling as though she’d been punched. Like that moment after the wind was knocked out of you and you felt as though you might never be able to catch your breath again.

“O-oh,” was all she managed to say, head spinning with a thousand possibilities, a thousand thoughts all at once. She did not need to ask him if the baby was his; the grave, regretful way that he had told her was answer enough to that question.

Tommy was still holding onto her, watching her reaction beseechingly with barely concealed fear. Still looking at her like he expected at any moment for her to wrench herself from his grasp and push him away. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“What–um…what about…are we…?” she could not seem to be able to put together a proper sentence, too many questions, all needing to be asked and yet dreaded to be answered, perched on the tip of her tongue. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself but not really succeeding. “She’s keeping it?” she managed to get out. Tommy nodded. Her head bobbed in numb acknowledgement. She’d thought as much, given the way he was behaving.

Saw her chance and fucking took it, she caught herself thinking bitterly, and shoved the thought down with a wince. Tommy’s hands tightened a little against her arms, looking as though he wanted to pull her closer, but was unsure if she would actually be agreeable to him doing so.

A baby. Tommy was going to have another baby. With someone else. The one thing that Lucy could never give him–that fact only a twist to the knife already embedded in her flesh. She was struck harshly with a potent sense of deja vu, teleported back to the day of the Derby, after all the excitement was over and Tommy told her in the car on the way home that Grace was pregnant with his child.

Except this time was not at all the same, was it?

Grace had loved her. Grace had wanted her around. Had accepted and openly encouraged her relationship with Tommy, as well as her position as a second mother figure in Charlie’s life. Lucy knew she would get no such consideration from Lizzie.

Because–let’s be perfectly frank, here–Lizzie hated her guts. The mask had come off after that day in the canal. Whatever friendliness Lizzie may have shown her before then, Lucy could not help but think that it had to be only because she knew that she needed to play nice with her in order to remain close to Tommy. It hurt; she genuinely thought that they might’ve been on their way to finally becoming friends.

You idiot, she chastised herself. They should never have started things back up with Lizzie. But maybe this was what they deserved, for so flippantly using Lizzie as a stand-in to fulfill their own grief-fueled fantasies.

Lizzie would want her gone. Of that, she had no doubt. She wondered how long it would be before her first attempt at jettisoning her from Tommy’s life. Perhaps she had already tried after telling Tommy the news.

A horrible thought barreled into her mind with the force of a freight train, her gaze, having drifted to stare blankly around the room while she thought, snapping back to Tommy’s. Fear locked its hands firmly around her throat.

“Are you leaving me for her?” she forced herself to ask, voice quiet and trembling. Tommy’s eyes widened.

“No! No, I’d never leave you,” he cradled the side of her face, and she closed her eyes, leaning desperately into the strong warmth of his touch.

“Does Lizzie know that?”

“Yes; I told her.”

After she undoubtedly asked you to throw me out onto the street without a second thought. “I’m sure she was thrilled.”

He took hold of her face with both hands, tilting it to look at him. “I made it clear that if she wants to have this baby, she’s going to have to make peace with the fact that you are a part of my life.”

She gave him a despondent look. “And do you really think that she will?”

Tommy frowned. “She’s going to have to.”

She nodded, slowly, movements jerky and numb. Guilt and confliction roiled around inside her. Of course she did not want for him to throw her away, but…it all just seemed so incredibly unfair to Lizzie.

He may have put his foot down this time. But what about the next? Or the dozen after that? What about after the baby comes?

If Lizzie decided to force him to choose between Lucy or her and the child…

Lucy was not fool enough to think that she’d ever be the triumphant party should a choice like that be put before him. Nor would she want to be. The thought that she could ever be what came between him and his children made her feel physically ill.

Within seemingly a matter of moments, the entire dynamic had shifted, the power structure reversing. Lucy suddenly felt incredibly small and inconsequential. Nonessential when put into the grand scheme of things. Lizzie was going to be the mother of his child, now. That automatically put her high above Lucy in the hierarchy of important women in Tommy’s life.

They were connected forever, now. Lizzie’s place at Tommy’s side was secure. More so than Lucy’s was, even. Through the baby they would share a bond that Lucy would never be able to have with him.

The dark pit of despair was opening wider within her mind, beckoning her to its edge, encouraging her to spiral down into its ink-black depths.

She swayed on her feet, a violent shudder going through her, a small sound emitting from her throat. She pulled suddenly away from Tommy, staggering forwards, not even entirely sure where she thought she was going. It was only when she drew away from his body that she realized just how imperative his presence had been in holding her together.

“Luce?” Tommy asked, voice worried, and she could sense him hovering behind her, wanting to reach out, but hesitating, unsure if his touch was still welcome.

Slowly, without even processing what she was doing, she lowered herself to the floor, sitting with her back propped up against the side of the bed, knees curled underneath her. Knuckles raising to press against her lips, she fought to contain the strangled sob that came from her throat. But more were coming, hot tears pooling in her eyes to run down her cheeks.

“Oh, love,” Tommy said, and then he was sitting down beside her, shoulder pressing against hers, arm wrapping around her, hand cradling her head and pulling it to tuck into his shoulder. “Come here.”

Her cheek pressing into the warmth of his body seemed to break whatever lingering composure she’d been clinging to, eyes squeezing shut, entire weight slumping against him, violent sobs starting to wrack through her entire body.

“Shh…” he wrapped his other arm around her and started to rock them both from side to side, petting her head while his lips pressed to her red curls.

She cried hard into him for a good long while, face squished into his shirt, probably getting makeup smudges all over the material. He held her very, very tightly, nearly crushing her into him and continuing to press kisses all around the crown of her head until she settled, sobbing giving way to quiet sniffles.

“Sorry,” she drew back, not far enough to pull free from his embrace, but just enough that she could scrub at her face with the back of her hand, embarrassed. “I’m fine, really, I’m just feeling sorry for myself…”

“Don’t…don’t apologize. You have every right to be upset.”

When she craned her head up to look at him, she was met with an agonized look in his wide eyes. His hand was still holding her head, the feel of his strong palm resting atop her hair a comforting, protective presence. His thumb stroked over her curls.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, distraught over the pain he was causing her overtaking his face. Lucy shook her head, letting her cheek rest more solidly where he had her tucked into his chest.

“It’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“I should’ve been more careful.”

“We both should’ve.” The choice to take Lizzie down to the canal had been a joint effort, after all. Tommy swallowed hard, lips parting, then closing, a fearful look Lucy almost never saw from him entering into his eyes.

“If you don’t want to be with me anymore, I understand…” he sounded like he was in physical pain as he forced the words out, hardly able to meet her gaze, looking away as if already mentally preparing himself for her to reject him.

She blinked up at him, taken aback. The look on his face broke her heart, the agony at the mere idea of her walking away from him perpetual and crippling.

“No, that’s not…” she trailed off, shifting slightly, wrapping her arm around him and hugging him hard. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He buried his face in her hair, and she could feel him noticeably relax against her. “You won’t. You won’t.” He squeezed her as if afraid to let her go.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, finally, once he’d loosened his grip just enough for her to lean back and peer up at him again. Tommy sighed the sigh of the terminally exhausted.

“I told Lizzie I’d give her a weekly allowance and buy a nice house for her and the baby. I wanted to talk to you first before discussing any other details with her.”

She nodded, appreciating the gesture, and swallowed hard around the next question, voice quiet and still a little thick with tears. “Are you going to marry her?”

Tommy frowned. “I’m not planning to.”

“That could hurt your reputation…”

“Maybe,” he acknowledged, and sighed again. “We’ll deal with that if we have to.” Large fingers swept some of her hair out of her face and cupped her cheek. “Even if I did…that doesn’t mean that you and I couldn’t still…”

Lucy looked away, down at her hands where she’d started unconsciously fiddling with her rings. “Lizzie might not be agreeable to that.”

“I’m not exactly going to leave it up to negotiation,” he tilted her face upwards, encouraging her to meet his eyes once more. “We come as a pair.”

“She doesn’t like me, Tommy.”

“She’s had her moments of unpleasantness, but I really don’t think she hates you as much as you think–”

“In her eyes, I’ll always be the primary obstacle between you and her finally being able to be together.”

“That’s not true.” He must have seen something in her face, because his gaze sharpened, shifting closer to her on the floor, jaw setting stubbornly, deadly serious. “Hey, look at me,” he commanded, gently, waiting until she did before he continued. “We’re going to be okay,” he swore. “I love you so much. I’m not going to leave you. Not now; not ever, alright?”

“She might make you…”

“She can’t make me do anything. I’m not leaving you, and if that upsets her, that’s her problem. She knows what our arrangement is; I made it as clear as I possibly could.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of any problems for you, Tommy…” Lucy mumbled weakly. It was her job–literally–to help make his life easier. If her presence started to become the root of serious issues…

“You could never be a problem for me,” he sounded wholly astonished at the mere suggestion. Holding her face as though it were the most precious thing in the entire world, he stroked her cheek rhythmically with the pad of his thumb. Those blue eyes pierced into her, urgent and sincere. “I love you, Lucy.”

She swallowed hard, forcing back another welling of tears. With it, she squashed down the still enduring batch of insecurities roiling within her, agitated and threatening to bubble to the surface like an unattended stew. Everything still felt raw, heart aching in her chest, but the comfort that Tommy’s touch and earnest words provided helped.

She believed that he wouldn’t let her go without a fight, and she believed that he loved her.

It was always possible that she was being unjustly harsh in her assessment of how Lizzie would behave regarding the whole situation. They had been getting along prior to the whole threesome by the canal business, after all. Maybe things really could be okay between them.

“I love you too,” she said, and he gave her a weak smile.

“I…erm,” he turned, keeping one arm around her while he stretched up to grab the bouquet he’d left on the nightstand after first entering the room. “I got you these.”

She took the bouquet from him, burying her nose in sweetly smelling, freshly cut blossoms. “Where on earth did you even get a bouquet of flowers so late at night?”

“I, uh, broke into a floral shop a little ways down the road.”

“Tommy!”

“What!? I left some money on the counter and closed it up just as I found it.”

She gave him an affectionate smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He looked at the bouquet with a frown. “It was the least that I could do, given the circumstances.”

A lump formed in her throat. It may have been a small gesture, all things considered, but the thoughtfulness of it wasn’t lost on her.

“Thank you.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, the arm that was around her returning to cradling the side of her head.

He was always so sweet with her, in a way that she knew he never was with anyone else. The efforts that he made to take care of and prioritize her had always been of significance, and she was forever aware of just how lucky she was that he so genuinely, deeply loved her.

Treacherous, her mind yanked her back to Lizzie and the baby. Between them, Charlie, the company, the war with Changretta, various family affairs, and her, it was getting awfully crowded on Tommy’s priority list.

Maybe everything would work itself out.

Or maybe not.

First guess who on that list would be the first to go.

“Hey,” Tommy said, and his voice was like the sudden yank of a rope, pulling her up out from under the water she’d slipped beneath, sputtering back into the open air. “Stop getting stuck in your own head.”

A tearful laugh left her lips. “Pot, meet kettle.”

He snorted a little against her hair where his lips were currently pressed.

She sniffled, head resting more firmly against his shoulder. Tommy squeezed his arm around her, until she was tucked tightly into his warm side. “Don’t ever let me go,” she pleaded. He turned his head from where his cheek was resting against her head to kiss her hair.

“Never. I promise.”

Angling her head up, Lucy pressed her nose to his throat, breathing in the scent of faded cologne and lingering smoke. He smelled of pine; like a campfire in the middle of the woods. Like safety. Like home.

She ghosted her lips tentatively across his neck, feeling him respond to her touch instantaneously, fingers curling under her chin, head tilting down so that he could catch her lips with his. The kiss was slow and infinitely gentle, soft mouth moving against hers like he was trying to pour his love into her with each caress. Even after their lips broke apart, he began earnestly kissing the lingering remnants of her tears away. Gingerly setting her bouquet aside, she twisted her body to press more tightly against his, Tommy’s hands encouraging her to slide into his lap.

Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him again, lips parting to his, head angling to allow the meeting of their mouths to become deeper. Warmth from his large hand where it was pressed to the middle of her back seeped in through her shirt.

“Mm. Are you sure?” he asked, nosing at her hair, hands cradling her in close, so that she was firmly straddling his hips.

“Yes,” she breathed out, nodding, fingers diving into his hair. Tommy kissed her again, the hand on her back sliding up to cradle the back of her head, the other stroking her thigh. Rising up from where he’d been seated and taking her with him, his strong arms lifted her up onto his torso. Hooking her legs around his waist to help him, she moaned softly as he turned them, promptly depositing her on her back on the bed behind them, falling with her so that his body almost entirely covered hers. Now that she’d started kissing him, she was unable to stop. Desperation seeped sharply into her blood, each pump of her heart sending it pulsing out to permeate her entire body.

Maybe it was out of need for comfort. Maybe it was out of a desire to claim him. She was not entirely sure.

Each kiss served as a reminder that he still loved her. That he wanted her. That he was there with her. He would not leave her alone. They would be okay; he would make sure of it.

Clothes slid off, tossed in a shapeless pile on the floor where they’d just been seated. She whined when Tommy broke their kiss to instead suck at her neck, steadily making his way down her body, caressing her breasts, nuzzling at her scars, kissing every inch of naked skin laid out before him.

The groan he let out when she grabbed his hair and steered his face towards where she needed him had her thighs twitching around his head. Heels crossing against his back, she tried to draw him in even closer, whimpering with her head thrown back when he licked a long stripe from the base of her entrance all the way up to her clit, wrapping his lips around it to give the sensitive bud a sharp suck. She could feel his eyes on her, observing her reactions to ensure that she was enjoying herself as he set to work pleasuring her.

With fingers and tongue, he brought her to the edge of coming within minutes. But while his movements were earnest in their goal to please her, he was not hurried. Each and every movement seemed to carry with it the need to telegraph his love for her. Tender motions and soft touches. Praises whispered into her skin. Eyes heartful and adoring when they bored into her.

He did not stop until he’d made her come twice, and only then it was because she had to nudge his head away to give herself a chance to catch her breath. The way that he snuggled his face into her palm had tears pricking the corners of her eyes, thumb stroking over his lips.

His brows creased when he spotted the film of tears preparing to spill down her cheeks, hand raising hastily to her face, half pushing himself up onto his arms to hover over her.

“I’m okay,” she shook her head, covering his hand with hers where it cupped her cheek. He searched her face for a long moment, worry giving way to sadness. She supposed that he understood just as much as she did that the ache of what was happening with Lizzie would not leave for her a long time–if ever.

“I love you,” she heard him whisper, dropping his face to kiss her hip. He climbed halfway on top of her, then wrapped his arms around her waist, carefully sinking his weight onto her and resting his head between her breasts, just laying on her for a moment in an embrace that she could have happily remained within for years. Hands rubbing up and down his back, she kissed the top of his head, holding him just as firmly as he was holding her.

Tommy just held her for a moment that could have stretched eons or just a few simple minutes, before stirring in response to the light strokes she started to pet through his hair, lips pressing to the curve of her breast. She could feel his erection pressing into her thigh, pleasantly warm and heavy against her. When she adjusted her legs so they were looped around his waist, heel resting against the swell of his ass, Tommy let out a soft groan at the way her smooth skin shifted and rubbed against his cock with the movement, lifting his head to peer up at her.

Slowly, he raised himself up onto his arms, balancing above her, and she was struck with the disparity between their two sizes. He was massive in comparison to her; Lucy’s body petite enough in its small stature and his large enough in its muscular build that he could cover her completely if he wanted.

But the way that his body curled over hers was not threatening in the slightest. She had never felt so protected in her life. He was warm, and solid, and safe, handling her like the mere thought of hurting her was too agonizing to bear.

Palms flat to the pillow on either side of her head, he kissed her, the sensual slowness of his mouth moving against hers enough to have her practically melting in his arms.

“Please,” she begged between kisses, needing to feel him, needing the physical proof that he still loved her, that he was still hers.

Not ceasing the press of their lips, Tommy reached down to take himself in hand, stroking a few times and swiping the head of his cock between her folds to gather up the wetness glistening there.

He entered her slowly, hips pushing languidly forward until they were flush to hers. Lucy moaned at the stretch, legs tightening around him, hands landing on his back. He cupped the side of her face, still kissing her, breaths heavy, as he very leisurely started to rock his hips.

A pleasured sigh left Lucy’s lips. He was so close. Buried inside her, getting as deep as he could possibly go with each thrust, chest pressed tight to hers, hands all over her.

“Fuck, you feel good. You feel so good,” he husked between kisses. “I love you so much, Lucy.”

A lump formed in her throat at the way he said it, a sharp moan cutting her off before she could repeat the words back to him. He was still going slow, but his hand had joined the mix, fingers circling around her clit.

His love was radiating off of him in waves, every touch, kiss, and thrust made with the intention of communicating the ferocity of his feelings for her. Truly making love rather than just fucking. It was nearly enough to bring her to tears, body shaking as it absorbed all the affection he had to give her like a sponge. Her walls tightened as the pleasure built between her legs, a moan bubbling up from within her chest.

Strands of Tommy’s fringe, having fallen forward, tickled her face, his head turning to nuzzle at her cheek.

“Tommy…I’m…”

“I know,” he purred, lips ghosting over her freckled skin. “Let go, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Back arching, she wailed as she fell apart around him, nails digging into his shoulders and head thrown back. Tommy growled, face burying in her neck, hand going to her thigh, pressing down gently to get her to open up a little wider for her, hips never ceasing their deep rolls as he rode her through her orgasm and almost straight into another one. She clawed at his back, angling her head so that she could bury her face in his neck, feeling the vibrations of his groan from within his throat as she sucked a dark mark into the pale skin.

“Lucy…” he grunted, pace stuttering slightly. The muscles in his back were tensing, his forehead coming to rest on hers, eyes glazed with pleasure. She could feel him all around her, inside her, cock swelling with his impending release, eyes staring into hers intensely. One of his hands, the one not still occupied with her clit, took hold of hers, interlacing their fingers and pressing them into the mattress by her head.

The look in his eyes was worth a thousand words. Devotion emblazoned as brightly as the sun within them.

I will love you forever, that was what he’d told her when they created the blood bond that left the scars that still marked the palms they had clasped together. It had been true, then. And she knew, the full realization of it crashing upon her all at once, that it was true now.

He was still hers. He was still her Tommy.

Tears welled into her eyes, overwhelmed a little by both the immense pleasure he was giving her, and the sudden, absolute surety of her realization.

She gasped, the tip of his cock grinding against her g-spot each time he bottomed out. Tommy’s mouth dropped open, eyes rolling a little in his skull, hand tightening in hers. His cock twitched inside her, and at the same moment his thumb pressed hard on her clit, and she cried out as, with a growl and the first burst of his seed emptying inside her, he pulled her right along with him over the edge.

She started sobbing almost immediately, flinging her arms around his shoulders and hugging him so tightly, it was a wonder that he could breathe. He hugged her back, thick arms wrapping around her waist, face burying itself in her neck. His hips were flush against hers, twitching slightly with the last spasms of his release, cock still buried snugly inside of her.

She wished that they could have stayed like that forever.

Tears rushed down her cheeks, lips trembling as she pressed them together. The soft, thick tendrils of his hair slid through her fingers, hand smoothing down the base of his skull, feeling the velvety prickle of the shaved sides of his head, following the slope down his neck to stroke his strong back.

Tommy turned his face to kiss her shoulder, then her neck. When his lips pressed to her cheek and he tasted the saltiness of sheded tears there, he pulled back, eyes wide with concern, immediately moving to push himself off of her and pull out.

“N-no,” she tightened her legs around him, latching onto his shoulders with a twinge of franticness. “I’m alright. You didn’t hurt me. I just,” she let out an embarrassed laugh, rolling her watery eyes at her body’s over dramatic reaction to the sensations and emotions that had just crescendoed inside her. “Am having a lot of feelings right now.”

He cupped the side of her face, thumb brushing away a few of the tears. God, she must look like a mess given all the crying she’d been doing tonight.

“Bad feelings?” he asked, gaze soft but still worried, eyes fluttering when she brushed the pads of her fingers down his cheek.

“No,” her thumb traced over the spot that often dimpled when he smiled, swallowing hard, raising her head up so that their noses bumped lightly against each other. “I love you so much, Tommy.”

His throat convulsed in what she recognized as an effort to swallow down tears, emotion rushing into his eyes.

“I love you too.” His forehead returned to its spot resting against hers. Both inhaled deeply as they kissed. When finally they parted, it was only so that Tommy could pull gingerly out of her oversensitive core, turning over to lay beside her on his side, gathering her up into his arms and tucking her into his chest. Lucy snuggled against him, closing her eyes while he stroked her hair.

“I mean it,” he said softly, cheek pillowing against the top of her head. “All of it. We’re going to be just fine. I’m not going to let you go; not unless you really want me to. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”

She kissed the center of his chest a few times, murmuring similar assertions into his skin, tilting her head up to look at him.

“I love you too. No matter what. I can’t imagine any possible scenarios where I would ever want to leave you.”

Maybe that made her horrifically selfish, to not be willing to dutifully bow out of the equation so he and Lizzie could make a proper go of things. But she could not just let Tommy go like that. Without him, she would never be happy again, and she could not just abandon him and all the work they’d done. If something happened to him and she wasn’t there, she would never forgive herself.

And, if the display of affection he’d just showered her with was of any significance, he would be heartbroken if she left.

Besides, where would she even fucking go? Her only remaining family were her cousins and aunt in the caravans in the mountains, and she hadn’t spoken properly to any of them in years.

He seemed incapable of ceasing gentle touches to her face, tracing the outlines of her lips and cheekbones, mapping out patterns in the constellations of freckles smattering her skin, before cradling almost the entirety of her cheek in his large palm.

“I know…I know how hard and how…shit this all is for you. Thank you for staying with me.” The tenderness, combined with the utter relief and bountiful gratefulness in his eyes, had her heart twisting in her chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She stretched up to kiss him again, both their lips plenty swollen from the amount of times they’d snogged.

“We’re gonna be alright,” she whispered. Tommy nodded, arms tightening around her.

“We should both probably try to get some sleep.”

Laying her head back down on his chest, she snuggled in closer to him with a sigh. “Yeah.”

Realistically, neither of them was probably going to sleep all that much, but at least they could try to get some rest. Tommy shifted to flick off the light on the bedside table, arm returning to join the other back around her. Lucy closed her eyes at the feeling of him nuzzling into her hair, squishing in as close as she could get to his chest.

It was not until the early hours of the morning, the sun already beginning to crest over the horizon, when either of them actually managed to slip into a proper doze. But the entire night, they held onto each other, not once letting go.

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#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x oc #my ocs #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #my fanfiction #laur writes #love me where i'm most ruined

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gravesung · 16 days

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* ANSWER TWENTY - ONE QUESTIONS ! some questions may be ‘ ??? ‘ instead of answered.

01. NICKNAME : raine 02. REAL NAME : emma 03. ZODIAC : gemini 04. HEIGHT : 5′9′’ 05. WHAT TIME IS IT ? : 10:54 am. 06. FAVOURITE MUSICIANS / GROUPS : lately it's been hoz.ier, air traffic controller, hal.sey (thanks hol), brick + mortar, the neighbourhood, zack hemsey (underrated, listen to him), and then just 100000 other artists that i only know 1-2 songs by because of character playlists 07. FAVOURITE SPORTS TEAM : uhh hh h (sweats) the sportsball sportsballers (nodding. i'm so cool and know a single thing about sp 08. OTHER BLOGS : @/huntershowl, my main blog! beloved oc, writing whom has changed my life in so many ways! also elizabeth bioshock at @/cewyll but the activity there is super low rn. she sleebin. once dragon age comes out she'll wake back up 09. DO I GET ASKS ? : HAHA. (TAKES A LOGN DRAG OF A CIGARETTE) bOY DO I MISS GETTING NICE ONES 10. HOW MANY BLOGS DO I FOLLOW ? : 133 (wow? goddamn) 11. ANY TUMBLR CRUSHES : oo. i haven't been here super long (since The Resurgence at least) & pre-anime boy takeover this blog was more just a friends-only sandbox zone, so i don't do a lot of outreach still. —but also, who are we kidding, yes 100%: @vzmky's geto portrayal & art has me in shambles. same goes for @brazenlystrong, ur art and portrayal is so [chef kiss]??? (& lbr you two are a package deal SDHSKJDH) —@sasouken we've only written together a little bit so far, but i'm already like !!! EEE whenever i see a message or reply from u. such an honor honestly. —also silly but needs to be said, despite literally being mains @chaoslulled is STILL fuckin awe inspiring in every way. i still get a little thrill when i see ur replies AND I DO STILL READ EVERY ONE THREE TIMES 12. LUCKY NUMBER : 4 (thanks artemis fowl) 13. WHAT AM I WEARING RIGHT NOW : pjs... though im about to change into some kinda cuteass fall outfit for a walk outside & the gym 14. DREAM VACATION : prollyyyyyy italy to visit mine papá... although tokyo & amsterdam sound very fun too i just love cities 15. DREAM CAR : a solid public transport system 16. FAVOURITE FOOD : curry. any kind of curry 17. DRINK OF CHOICE : coffee (flat cappuccino or just drip w/ cream), spicy black teas (dont get me started ill talk forever), or if we're talking alcohol, i always gravitate toward floral gin drinks 18. LANGUAGES : english but i am learning welsh for fun. at some point i GOTTA start learning italian but i'm putting it off because i'm lazy 19. INSTRUMENTS : cello & piano, a ttteeeeeeeny bit of guitar, took vocal lessons for a while, but honestly cello is my main bitch forever and ever 20. CELEBRITY CRUSHES : c.ate blanchett, d.aniel henney, k.eanu reeves, j.anelle monae, k.ing princess, uhhh kaoru kobayashi has real hot scarred dad vibes in midnight diner (this answer has not changed since 2019 when i last did it) 21. RANDOM FACT : i just started an art mentorship!! gonna be commissioned a custom mural (themed on isolation, there will be hellhound & lighthouse themes involved most likely lbr) & later this fall, doing some inking for a mecha comic under guidance of a local artist i admire so much. it's gonna take an entire year but i'm so excited about it, especially because i want to eventually make my own webcomic/GN about mx houndcreature eventually (soonish)

TAGGED BY : thiefed it.

TAGGING : y'all know by now that i barely have enough confidence to tag the earlier ppl. THIEF IT. TAG ME SO I CAN SEE. but also @tewwor because you tagged me in this 5 yrs ago

#ooc.#mun bullshit.#dash games.#long post cw

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renenene · 4 months

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Author’s notes at the end :) first fanfic!! Yippee!!

I’m Sorry for You

4.2k words

The title is a song lyric from “ILYIS pt 2” by Mel Bryant & the Mercy Makers

Things I’d put if I ever posted to ao3 !!

Tags:

Many POC and LGBTQ+ headcanons among other things, quirk shenanigans, angst but not too bad ig, POV switching, Bakugo Katsuki swears a lot, Class 2-A, Sero speaks Spanish (yell at me if it’s wrong I’ll probably have my friend translating), Bakugo Katsuki likes to learn languages to fuck with Deku, Bakugo Katsuki natural talent frfr, PTSD for all, post war arc except I stopped watching after s5 and know everything mostly by fandom and friends ranting at me but I’m reading the manga currently, everybody lives/nobody dies, except AFO, we’re getting creative with the Bakugo nicknames, Bakugo in therapy, dekusquad are the real menaces, hero internships, the new class 1-A maybe, smoking weed/weed mentions, panic attacks, dissociation, let Deku stop being an innocent baby, let Deku be a teenager, let Katsuki be a dork, I believe in class 2-A having lives and real trauma responses ☝️

Characters:

Class 2-A, Katsuki Bakugo, Izuku Midoriya, Mina Ashido, Eijiro Kirishima, Sero Hanta, Shouto Todoroki, Himiko Toga, Cammie, original OCs probably as background characters idk

Relationships:

Midoriya Izuku/Bakugo Katsuki, past Midoriya Izuku/Ochako Uraraka, background Mina Ashido/Cammie subplot, Ochako Uraraka/Himiko Toga subplot, minor Mirko/Shigaraki, minor Sero Hanta/Todoroki Shouto subplot, Platonic Ochako Uraraka/Katsuki Bakugo, minor Kyoka Jiro/Yaoyorozu Momo subplot

Blurb ig??

Katsuki Bakugo has cheated death nearly three times at this point. Sludge incident, Kamino incident, the goddamn war. He doesn’t gamble with his life or anything. Villains just seem to love him. If it were up to Katsuki, his life would never be played with.

That's gonna change real quick, though. You’d be crazy to think he’ll accept that after so much goddamn struggle in so little time, it’s Izuku’s ass that’s the only thing pumping his heart. Katsuki is cool with Izuku. He even trusts him. Still, if Katsuki can’t control anything, he needs to at least be able to control his own self.

Yeah, Katsuki’ll cheat death again. Fourth time’s the charm.

Chapter 1 ——————————————

4:48 AM, Friday / Katsuki Bakugo

The sun isn’t up yet, thank God. There’ll be no first year, dumbfuck extras to ogle me on my morning run. I can enjoy my quiet peace — even if the weather is getting a bit too cold for my liking.

Already, I’ve got a tracksuit on in seconds and I’m making record time. If I can get my hair down without problems, then I might be able to sneak some time at the gym. All that’s left is to fix my hair.

My drawer comes open with a roll. My hair clips are usually at the forefront. Usually. I put them at the front every night. I damn sure know where I put my shit.

…

Where the fuck are my clips?

8:21 AM / Izuku Midoriya

The days were long. The days were hard. And this day in particular was filled with— BOOM! There’s that same crackling noise everyone is all too familiar with by now. You’d think things would change after a year.

But no.

This is worse than usual.

Much, much worse.

Whoops and cheers arise, shouting “Go! Go! Catch ‘im!” A chopping hand makes its best attempt at distracting the instigating crowd, but only succeeds for half a second before the eyes are glued back onto the affair like a brand new fridge magnet.

“Encouraging violent behavior is not heroic cond— Bakugo-San!” Our beloved but prickly class president yelps as an almost impressively minute AP shot goes whizzing over his perfectly styled head. “No quirks in the classroom!”

“It ain’t a classroom until hygenically-challenged-Sensei gets here!” Kacchan sneers his usual sneer as he readies his hand to flick. “Until that infestation of a man wiggles his way in this room, this place is my battlefield. And just like the war— I ain’t losin’!”

“Badmouthing our sensei after he—“

“Take a joke, glasses,” Kaminari leans into the stickler’s side, purring. “Kacchan respects Aizawa-Sensei probably the most out of all of— FUCK!!”

“Language!”

Kacchan’s hand sizzles just the slightest bit from recoil from the shot that narrowly missed Kaminari’s ear. “That’s for making me sound all soft.”

“Kacchan, he was defending y—“

“You better pray there’s someone to defend your ass.” The blond swivels around with the quickness of a top-of-his-class war veteran, which he is, but no one would say to his face lest his head get somehow even bigger.

I gulp. This commotion has been going on all morning. Everyone knows Kacchan isn’t really going to hurt anyone but… he looks like he’s fighting urges.

Sero sits up ever so slowly. His eyes are bloodshot like he’s done a pretty amount of weed before classes, and he probably has. For God’s sake, it’s barely eight in the morning. UA is definitely a stressful place to be, but soon-to-be heroes shouldn’t be doing drugs.

Another small AP shot sounds, and I glow the slightest bit green to dodge it, landing star-shaped like a startled cat in the upper right corner of the back of the mangled classroom. The place looks like a tornado tore through it with the way the desks are all skewed. Some were moved so my classmates could watch the entertainment, chewing on snide comments and muffled giggles as toppings to Yaomomo’s popcorn. It’s like a tiny gladiator fight is going on, and the lion has eaten my sword.

A gladiator fight that Kacchan still won’t win. It’s only because he’s not able to go one hundred percent with this whack a mole stuff ‘cause he’ll mess up the room. However, fucking around is the only way he’ll ever find out how to land a hit on me.

“What did he even do?” Sero drawls, pointing his exasperation at a snarling Kacchan, palms popping with learned restraint. And oh, that restraint is going through a popping pop quiz of a test right now.

He has no clips in his hair. As of late, he had his hair clipped down over his eye like some 2000s emo, minus the scene extensions.

“I don’t have to tell a shitty extra jack shit,” he growls out, a menacing smile turning menacing scowl. It was an expected reaction, really. He always bristles when people get all in his business. And yet, class 2-A is nothing if not always in all his business, if you couldn’t tell by even the most outwardly innocent and responsible eyes being on the commotion as well.

Sero stalks closer with a yawn, a few paces behind him. He's not a step in front, still, out of habit I suppose. Kacchan has eased up a lot with the war. War seems to mature people, everyone here, really. But during his moments of irrational rage, his little aspects of tyranny bubble up like a bad reaction. The reaction he gives Sero, a fast side eye, seems like that sort of steaming an almost boiling pot of water will do before it erupts, leaking water into the ready and waiting flame beneath it.

“You don’t have to tell me ‘jack shit’, sure.” Sero shrugs, most likely unaware that his life is in jeopardy because of the weed in his system. An angry Kacchan is a prickly Kacchan. As much as Sero needs to diffuse the situation for his poor, poor beauty sleep before class, he also shouldn’t want to be put to rest for good. I personally want all my friends graduating without any tombstones for us to plant. “But,” Sero continues, drawling again just so Kacchan can at least focus his annoyance away from me and towards Sero, “we always figure out what dumbass—“

“Language,” Iida peeps out, a low volume I didn’t know his voice was capable of reaching.

“—what stupid thing you fight Midoriya for. Eventually, anyway. So just speed the process already.”

A slow hand turns to aim, palm up and popping, right at his temple.

“‘You tryna call me a dumbass?”

“Lang—“

From the corner of my eye, I catch a mesmerized Uraraka pat Iida for him to lean back. A calm, or at least calm looking Kacchan, is the worst Kacchan of them all.

Over the years there were grumpy Kacchan’s, raging Kacchan’s, stressed Kacchan’s, exhausted Kacchan’s, Kacchan’s in denial— when was he not?— and right now, a calm, almost crazed Kacchan. Of all the Kacchan’s our class seemed to learn how to wiggle our way into the graces of tolerance he had stowed beyond a seemingly less and less penetrable fortress as the days blended, calm Kacchan’s grace looked to lie in another plane of existence.

For, this is a Kacchan that smiled. Easy and small and uncanny. He may make many threats, but it’s been years since he’s looked so genuinely murderous.

“What I’m tryna do is keep you from getting detention for the third time this month. You’re on a weekly basis at this point.”

It’s almost a relief to see Kacchan stop smiling, but that threatening hand moves not one inch down.

“Who told you to care? Hah? Is your name glasses now? Or ponytail? Nah, you’re tape face. So stay in your lane and quit worryin’, jackass.” The two others in question bristle at their mention, but otherwise make no other reaction. Sero’s reaction, however, is to raise a brow.

“So they’re allowed to worry?”

“No, you— what!?— They’re not allowed to worry,” he grits out. “It’s what they do, and it’s what you don’t.”

This is when Mina pipes up, chief instigator of the onlookers. “Mido-Chan—“ she points frantically to the door— “is gone!”

Her impish grin almost grows past her cheeks at the same time that Kacchan’s explosions pop dangerously close to Sero’s face.

Luckily, that’s when Aizawa-Sensei literally rolls in and suddenly the desks are put together by the time he’s upright. Noticeably still in that horrendous banana yellow caterpillar sack, but upright nonetheless.

“Will someone tell me why Midoriya-San was full cowling down the hall?” He drones, already too done to even fathom the possible answers.

A hand shoots up, and it’s no surprise that it’s Iida’s.

“Bakugo-San and Midoriya were having a bit of a scuffle—“

“Again?” He interrupts, just annoyed at the common occurrence at this point.

“Yes, sensei.”

“That’s the third time this month.” Kacchan sucks his teeth at the remark. “Earphone Jack, Creati.” The bloodshot, dried eyes of the insomniac glance between the two in question. “You both work well together. Find the problem child before the bell rings. If you can do that, I’ll give an extra 5 credits to your participation grade for today. However, lost time won’t be made up. Rendezvous with your friends. Heroes don’t have time to ‘make up’ their missions.”

Yaomomo is the first to raise her hand, face scrunched in objection. “Sensei—“

“Unfortunately for whatever you have to say, heroes are not able to decline calls to action if they’re able, either. Imagine a mother’s child dying because you dawdled.”

Him and finding the oddest times to give some strangely amazing advice. He’s not wrong, but he’s definitely twisting the system so he doesn’t have to go searching himself. The man is on a prosthetic leg though.

It’s not until thirty minutes later the three of us return, heaving a stick, leaf, and splinter ladled me by my shoulders.

“S-sorry, sensei.” I bow my head, nervously smiling. By the quiver of my lip, any other person might’ve thought I was about to laugh. But this is class 2-A. They know I’m on the verge of tears with anxiety.

Aizawa-Sensei does nothing but pinch his nose bridge and groan. “Just sit.”

And this class begins, Bakugo sending the occasional calculated glance at Midoriya.

12:13 PM / Katsuki Bakugo

“Dude! You freaked! I mean— more than usual! Like— this was going crazy! It was entertaining as hell—“

“You almost got your ear exploded off,” Sero interrupts the honey haired boy with a small snicker.

“You did too! And well, yeah, that wasn’t entertaining.” He deflates at the memory but perks right up when he gets back to storytelling. Y’know, as if they were not literally there.

Kaminari blabbers on and on, throwing in the odd joke or two about how Izuku slipped away like the fucking Pink Panther with the way he tip toed. Like I was one of those red light laser systems, poised to go off at any moment if you only breathed in the wrong way.

Of course I fucking would. That asshole knows what he’s got comin’, going through my shit. He shouldn’t be so damn surprised I was ready to leave him in tatters. I would disintegrate him with my eyes if I could. The ones that were currently downcast and staring into nothing.

Kirishima leans forward a little from his side of the lunch table, across from me, to tap the space in my view. It’s one quick tap. He knows it’ll get my attention ‘cause I hate it when people do it. It’s as if they’re treating me like a dog, tapping in front of me. Makes me wanna bite their finger off and show them a real bitch. Still, the tap is light enough that the others continue to be too deep in gossip land to notice whatever we’re about to say.

“You good?”

My airhead expression falls right back into a scowl.

“I’m as good as someone with detention can be.” I’d punch his highlighter head if I didn’t like him so much. Tolerated him more than others, at least.

“How long’s it this time?”

“An hour after school. ‘Said I gotta watch Eri ‘cause he knows I hate it.”

“What else?”

I narrow my eyes, leaning closer to Kirishima. “What’s it to you?” The fucker doesn’t pry, thank God. Why’s he doing it now?

“I’m worried.” He shrugs as if it’s normal. “You keep getting in detention.”

My narrowed eyes go to slits by the time I'm finished blinking. “Yeah, well, it’s my business if I do. Not any of yours.”

He only folds his arms and leans back, scoffing. “It’s plenty my business, dear ol’ Kats—“

“Quit calling me that, Jaws,” I grit out. He knows I hate that dumbass nickname. For one—it’s way too cutesy for my liking. ‘Kats’. I don’t have fucking paws. I am not a cat. And if I were, I’d scratch your face and vomit on you before you can say “Kah”.

Nonetheless, he continues. “You’re my friend. I don’t surround myself with people who aren’t manly, and people who aren’t manly go to detention.”

“‘You callin’ me a loser?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“People who aren’t manly are losers to you, stoplight. I ask again: ‘You callin’ me a loser?”

“The point is stop going to detention.” I roll my eyes. Okay, so he’s calling me a loser. Maybe going to detention isn’t very cool.

“And I don’t mean skipping, just in case you get ideas— even though I know you wouldn’t,” he says, for no reason, might I add. I wouldn’t skip classes unless there was a literal life threatening situation.

“Now, here’s your cookie.” He stuffs a spicy, sweet wafer in my mouth, watching with content as I shift from getting ready to blow his head off to being pacified by the combo of flavors.

Todoroki whisks by at that convenient moment, holding a book open. He looks so similar to Izuku, furiously taking notes once he sees even the slightest noteworthy thing. He’s even got his tongue stuck out to the side as Izuku usually does. Speaking of, what the hell noteworthy thing am I doing right now? “That cookie looks good.” And there goes my answer.

“The recipe’s homemade!” Kirishima chimes.

“Ooh, Kiri, can I have one?” Sero’s practically eating one with his eyes. “Just one nibble or something?”

Mina’s next in line to whine. “Yeah, c’mon, don’t hog!”

“Okay, okay!”

The mention of food has officially brought the other oafs into our conversation. He passes a cookie around to everyone, halting at Kaminari, who seriously cannot take spicy shit at all.

“Why can’t you ever make something normal?”

I lick the crumbs off my fingers, noticing Kirishima grin hard enough for his big cheeks to hurt. Yeah, the cookies are good. Whatever.

“Why can’t you grow some balls, dunceface?”

The others snicker, all except Todoroki.

“But doesn’t Kaminari already have—“

“Nevermind!” Mina pipes up before he can ruin a good joke.

I snag another wafer-cookie whatever the fuck and look up at Mr. Pill. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“I’m taking notes on that cookie. You mentioned there was a recipe, Kirishima.”

He nods.

Todoroki blinks once. Twice. “Can I have it?”

“You bake!?” Sero bursts, lips pulled in a wide smile. He’s too enamored to realize he’d completely overshadowed Ei and the fact that he was supposed to answer.

“I didn’t know Todo-Chan baked!” Pinky’s hands smack on the table to prop herself up in all her excitement. “You and Sato-Chan should totally bake together sometime. It’d be a flavor party!”

“I thought you’d like bland stuff.” Kaminari is surprisingly less energy filled than the others, instead just curious.

“Baking’s super manly, man!” Kirishima shouts.

Todoroki just shrugs at all their enthusiasm.

“My friends like sweets, so I learned.”

“Well, this ain’t sweet.” I take a large chomp from another cookie. “‘S spishee,” I growl through the mush in my mouth.

“My friends like spice as well.”

That makes all of us raise our brows. Todoroki’s friends like spice? As in— Iida, who’s a stickler for just a chip as opposed to something with “nutritional value”? Midoriya who’s eyes water after “too much” ketchup? Uraraka who… to be honest, she can handle her spice, but can’t take a taki. She’s probably at “spicy” Doritos level.

Sero hooks an arm around Todoroki’s shoulders and grins, small and sly. “Ah, I get it. We’re your friends.” The oh’s on Mina and Kaminari’s face are almost immediate.

“I never said I was peppermint’s friend.” I grumble. The dumbasses continue with their cooing and I continue emptying Kirishima’s container.

“You wanna make cookies for us, Todo?” Mina purrs, cozying up to the boy’s other side. Her eyes bat all coaxing-like.

“No,” he glances down at her, and it takes her a second to realize he’s not being smart with her. Just being as socially inept as he usually is. “You guys are my friends, but they’re not for you.”

“Oh.” Sero and Mina glance between each other, but Kirishima’s the first to ask the big question.

“Who’re you makin’ ‘em for?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t tell?” Dunceface and Elbows ask in unison.

“I can’t tell.”

“Sometimes I just wanna mangle your stupid, inexpressive mug— the shitheads wanna know why, you dumbass,” I grumble.

The dumbass in question blinks, and nods. “I can’t tell.” We all collectively groan. “I can’t.” And the boy shrugs.

“You can’t tell us why you want a spicy cookie recipe and you can’t tell us why you can’t tell us you…” Kaminari freezes, brows pinched. “What was I saying again, Kiri? I-I was definitely saying something— I know it made sense.”

“Mhm.” The redhead snickers at his best friend—but I’m really the best friend ‘cause I’m the best in everything—and replies in kind. “He can’t tell us why he wants the cookie recipe, or why he can’t tell us why he can’t tell us he needs the recipe.”

Kaminari’s eyes are wide as he hugs his own sides, so Sero offers him a pat on the back as consolation. I guess I'd pat him too, if I only I hadn’t turned my hearing aids down. Yeah, hearing aids. Setting off explosions only a few feet from your ears since the age of four does that to you.

“You’re correct, Kirishima. Now, the recipe? Please.”

He nods with the widest smile. “I can text it to you before the day ends. Probably before training with All Might.”

“Anytime before Saturday is a good time.”

Saturday? I perk up. I’m allowed to be fucking nosy. “What’s happenin’ Saturday?”

“Uh…” Uh? Since when was Todoroki capable of saying uh? “I wanna buy the products as soon as possible. For my friend.”

I freeze, eyes narrowing at my Tupperware. It was then that we’d all had the same thought, but Mina was the first to voice it. “Frien—“ Sero’s tape shoots to cover her mouth at a practiced speed. “Mm!! Mm, hm!?” She squeals, and he shakes his head with an eerily serious grimace.

“If you’ll text me the recipe, then I don’t have a reason to be here anymore.” Todoroki bows at a right angle. “Please excuse my interr—“ is that a blush on his goddamn ears?

Kirishima’s the one who covers Kaminari’s mouth when he almost makes the mistake of commenting on it.

Half n’ half stalks away, cradling that book of secrets. Just when he’s out of earshot— “America has a problem.” I lean in, narrowing my eyes at each of my tolerable twits.

Mina, Sero, Kirishima, and Kaminari are sat back down and huddled in, already ready to conspire.

“No shit he does. Look at the way he walked off. Like that book was treasure!” Sero whisper-shouts, throwing his hands around.

“I didn’t even know Todo-Chan was capable of blushing!”

Kirishima shushes Mina for being a bit too loud, then ducks right back into our little circle. “Bakugo and Sero are right though. He was totally suspicious. I mean, yeah, we’re all Uber closer now after the…”

“You know,” Kaminari murmurs.

“Yeah, that.” Kirishima takes a shuddering breath at the memories. Bloody and grave. “Anywho, yeah, we’re close. But no one just walks up with a notebook for a reason as small as spicy cookies. I didn’t even tell anybody I made them.” He folds his arms and scoffs. “It’s like the guy knew or something. He couldn’t have had a notebook ready that damn fast.”

“He couldn’t have. But a freckled fuck I know keeps at least one paper and pen on deck at all times.” I pointedly glance behind myself, and their eyes follow that glance. The… “dekusquad”—God, do I hate that that’s what we’re calling them now—don’t look suspicious though. “Shitty de—zuku is in on it,” I interrupt myself midway through the nickname Izuku has told me multiple times he doesn’t mind.

“And did you see the way he seemed almost more interested when you said they were spicy? Who here even likes spicy cookies over regular cookies!?” Kaminari sounds like he’s straining to keep his voice under a hearing level.

Of course that’s the part Kaminari zeroes in on. It is a detail to point out, but not that big. Sero shrugs.

“They were good, but not better than a regular cookie, Ei. No offense.” Mina smiles up at him.

“Whatever, I made them only to satisfy Kats’ hell-hot buds anyway.”

“Which they are.” He blinks a few times, eyes ripped to my deadpan. “Satisfied.”

“Thanks?”

“Ain’t nothing’ to thank. They were good.”

“Kats—“

“Simple as that.”

RING!!

“Shit, the bell!” Kaminari’s packing his unfinished lunch at lightning speed.

“I’ll feel so bad if I have to see that hollow shell of a man looking any more depressing if we’re late to his training,” Sero grumbles as he grabs his belongings with his tape.

“Well don’t remind me!” Mina wails.

Kirishima’s laughing under his breath as he pulls his bag on. “I don’t think All Might will get depressed if you guys are a little late. It’s not manly, yeah, but it’s not world ending.”

The others can scramble to class all they want. I’ve got a plan for the green team. They wanna send spies on me? Jokes on them, I’ve been watched all my goddamn life.

“Whatchu want?” Kirishima squints at me, only teasing. I fold my arms and lean my hip into the edge of the table.

“Shut up and I’ll tell you. You, me, after school.”

“Session?”

What the hell? “No— Fuck, no. Not fuckin’ weed, Ei.”

He only shrugs. “It could’ve been weed. It sounded like weed. It should’ve been weed.”

Why the hell would I want weed?

“No. No, it shouldn’t have. Nevermind—I mean, we need to talk. I got somethin’, and I need ya’ to go along with it.”

“‘You have a plan?”

“Yeah.”

The asshole looks at me. Scrutinizing as if it’s impossible for the top of our fucking class to come up with a plan so fast. I can imagine everywhere he’s looking. The knick in my brow from the war, the worry line just barely coming to shape on my forehead. Basically, every part of me that’s only formed ‘cause of that damn war. I’d rather drop dead than let him think I’m weak.

“Why were you chasing Midoriya—“

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Kats—“

“I told you to knock that—“

“Why not? To the name and… this morning. I thought it was just ‘cause Mina and the others were around that you wouldn’t tell.”

He knows he’s prying, and yet he’s testing me anyway. Regardless of Mina’s big gossipy mouth, I wouldn’t tell a soul. It’s not their business.

“I told you I’m not talking about it, and the extras weren’t the reason why. Plus, that name is fucking ugly by the way.”

“We made it for you though.” He grins.

“‘Don’t mean it don’t suck.” I nudge my head towards the exit, where the bulk of our year is off to. “C’mon, before my perfect no lateness record blows up.”

Kirishima kicks into a jog but raises his brow at me anyway. “But we’re still not done talking. You still haven’t told me—“

“Okay, Johnny Bravo, if I gotta tell you—“

“Who the fuck is Johnny Bravo?”

“—that one buff guy? Y’know, that one show about the guy who’s all macho and has gigantic man tits— nevermind, stop interrupting!” I can feel sparks starting in my palms and he’s not making it any better. “As I was saying, I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’! It’s me and shitnerd’s business. Not yours, not Soyface’s, and not anybody else’s. Got it?”

He mimics catching a ball, dropping it ever so slowly on the floor, and pouting up at me. I swear I’ll kill him one day.

“One day they’ll be sending your ass back to Fatgum. ‘Cause I’ll beat you so bad your quirk will be unusable.”

“Kats, your plays on words are getting too many steps—“

“‘Wasn’t even a play on words, but I’ll give you a more pea-brained threat: I’ll eat you.”

“Hell yeah! Love who you love. I mean, don’t love me though.”

I sigh. My friends are so… stupid.

Most of our class is already huddled around the symbol of peace by the time we arrive. All Might still insists on showing up in his buff form until he starts choking blood, even though no one needs or wants him to. Though, it’s not like anyone wants to crush his spirit by saying anything about it.

“I am here, my students!” the man bellows, as if we don’t have eyes.

Kaminari hails him, before Iida jabs his sharp as hell elbow in the blond's side.

Our training begins.

——————————————————

A/N TIME !!!

Hope anyone who read this enjoyed :) This A/N is long ash tho, can y’all tell I’m a yapper

Anywho, finally posting the fanfic I’ve been working on 😭 literally only 2 chapters and the beginning of a 3rd in because I have such a bad habit of forgetting things I started, remembering, forgetting, not liking, and repeating the cycle. I got really inspired reading The Way You Used to Do planning this out though. Read it last year and my friends haven’t heard silence since.

If I don’t think this is ass by the time I finish I might post to ao3 as well (probably in like 10 yrs LOL idk how fanfic writers can consistently write chapters and finish with 200k words in like 4 months) this is basically my form of beta-ing when my bsf isn’t available lol

Also, I’ve kinda just been writing in a google doc without a title because it was originally an “x reader” but then the plot I planned got too interesting 🤷🏾‍♀️ I think “I’m Sorry for You” fits the narrative I’ve built though. If anyone wants to know why, id be happy to explain ^^ Anywho, I always think those existential “the stars r ur eyes” or whatever titles were so pretty and I wanted to have something like that but my brain always blanks out when I have to think of a title. Womp womp.

If anyone is interested, I also have a doc for planning, with character headcanons and analyses. I have a visceral hatred for OOC works and while most will say that it is so, they can just be so far from source material that I’ll die reading it. In addition, I made a little playlist to help me brainstorm plot and think about bakudeku dynamics.

#bakudeku #mha #bakugou katsuki #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #izuku midoriya #my hero academia #bnha bakugou #fanfic #new fanfic #mha bkdk #bkdk #bnha bkdk #bkdk fanfic

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kogetaikid · 6 days

Text

TUMBLR OC MAKING CHALLENGE!!! (Round 2)

Where random people on Tumblr make me a random oc cuz why not…

Previous Round

Previous Post Next

OC STATS

Gender: fluid (any pronouns)

Height: Tall

Body: Chubby

Personality: Cold-blooded, Selfish, Nerdy

Hobbies: Spying, Gaming and Music

(There was technically a three way tie but I chose gaming because A, I DON'T have the mental capacity to go through another tie breaker and B, nowadays, I'm pretty sure it's now considered nerdier than just reading.)

(I also chose @lonesome-pear's request to this OC to have an interest in music because GODDAMN how did I not think of that!? /pos. Congratulations. I'll also let you choose the instrument(s))

NEXT POLL WILL BE SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 21 AT 6:00 a.m. PDT

(Wrote the following cuz I'm scared of the internet's reaction to things sometimes. And it's hard to word things on a Tumblr poll without it coming accidentally off negative.)

Before anyone asks about that last part, Albinism and vitiligo are both conditions that cause a lack of pigmentation in the body. They are still very different conditions however. Albinism is a genetic condition that causes a lack of pigmentation throughout the whole body, and vitiligo is an autoimmune condition that causes patches of skin to lose pigmentation. It doesn't really make sense to combine the two.

I AM NOT SAYING THAT LIGHT SKINNED PEOPLE CAN'T GET VITILIGO. My aunt actually has that condition and she's light skinned. It just seems impractical to pair a condition that causes light patches of skin to occur on the body with already unmelanated skin. If such situation occurs, I'll choose the third most requested skin tone.

#txt #art #my art #tumblr oc challenge #random poll #tumblr polls #my polls #random polls #polls #poll time #poll #blog polls #tumblr poll #art challenge #artist of tumblr #small artist

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achy-boo · 2 years

Text

I posted 2,130 times in 2022

That's 2,129 more posts than 2021!

565 posts created (27%)

1,565 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@cherrys-sweetness

@kalims

@rizavi-m

@harmonys-tune

@honey-milk-depresso

I tagged 687 of my posts in 2022

#achyls answers :3 - 354 posts

#juvellianovo - 81 posts

#the archiver answers - 79 posts

#the archiver talks - 49 posts

#achyls reblogs ↩️🤭 - 41 posts

#dear mutuals - 37 posts

#riddlesimp - 25 posts

#send help - 24 posts

#gh0stbastard - 13 posts

#raix luv - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 50 characters

#𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖٫𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓

My Top Posts in 2022:

NO BC IN A SPLIT SECOND I WAS THINKING ABOUT SUCKING MRS ZIGVOLT'S BOOBAHS OR HER SPANKING ME AND CALLING ME A WHOR-

APHRODITE AGAIN?!

PLEASE 😭😭😭😭

53 notes - Posted July 21, 2022

Jamil: I have very high expectations for my partner. My partner must have-

Harmony:Accidentally made a pot of plants fall and proceed to apologise to it

Jamio:That one. I want her.

Tsukii: *shakes her head with a smile* It’s a good thing that I do do not have a crush on Leona…

73 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

This is another simp expose but this one you had to expose your NEW simps~ This is for my mutuals~

1. Nastume from Enstars(I like magic and I found it cool)

2. Jun from Enstars (His goddamn is sexy and you can’t change my mind)

3. Karou from Enstars(He is extrovert and talkative soo..)

4. Niki from Enstars( Me and Niki are foodies)

5. Ristu from Enstars( Rei and Ristu is cute and I like sleep)

6. Hiyori from Enstars(You can’t tell me that this man can treat his s/o like royalty)

You can’t escape this~: @miloticbish @windblume-wishes @kalims @rx-lounge @husky-studies (Eheheh~) and anyone from my tortures and mutuals can join~ @rizavi-m [ :)) ]

75 notes - Posted November 3, 2022

Warning for Genshin Impact Community:

I will write this post for the Genshin impact community and this girl is back again. But unfortunately is targeting the Genshin Impact Fandom.

If you see the username ‘Multi-Fandom Nerd’ on your dash or wherever you found it, BLOCK HER IMMEDIATELY.

This female is the subject of racism, sinophobia, homophobic and etc. The TWST Wonderland is free from this demon but she is now targeting the Genshin Impact Community.

Reasons to Block Multi-Fandom Nerd:

There are a lot of reasons to block mult-fandom nerds but I was label them based on reposts of the attack the TWST community.

She never took the time and EFFORT to named her ‘ocs’ based in the Chinese Culture.

She made black skinned versions of those Chinese characters and used name that does not fit with the Chinese’s name system.

For the Genshin Impact Community, she will try to do something about the shippers in this community(what will she do? That question is too disturbing for me to answer)

False Claims of the dark skinned characters(For Example: The loving Rock music player Xinyan {I haven’t played Genshin in soo long so correct me if I made a mistake})

For the Black People Community plus I myself who is black. She claims that black people can not be racist but in reality, everyone can be racist..no matter of ANY race.

Speaking of False claims and attacks of shippers, she will made a post about it and try to prove she is right

Okay I know this is mainly about the Genshin community but the TWST is safe from her but now..Genshin community is now victims of her.

So everyone please block her if she appears because interactions with her will only be worse for you.

Stay safe from her everyone. Even if you are the person who help others or try to confront them,don’t. You will never know what would she do or say about your ask.

-Achyls

100 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

🌻 If you get this, answer with 3 random facts about yourself and send it to the last 7 blogs in your notifications, anonymously or not! Let's get to know the person behind the blog 🌻 ( no pressure, you don't have to!! )

*chuckled* Oh boy.

1. I have short attention spam that means I get distracted a lot

2. I’m a high school graduate

3. I’m very creative girl but..I HAVE CREATORS BLOCK 😭😭

@harmonys-tune @aphrodites-letters @raix-lv @jackplushie @honey-milk-depresso @ellovett

272 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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hipsofsteel · 2 years

Note

69 for ColCa, 21 for Rusty & Kitty and 5 for Chris & Evelyn :]

Well, my beloved, either you picked awful numbers, or I have awful taste in music (unlikely for the Cyrano soundtrack features heavily on my Wrapped this year), because #69 is Mongolian rock music, #21 actually will work for that ship but not in a fun way, and #5 is the song I use to try to calm down my dog whenever the concept of wind gives her anxiety.

Anyhow, everyone whose old enough to remember when this was a Hetalia state OC blog, watch me return to my embarrassing ways.

Also, my most beautiful dearest... Tumblr has FUCKED their post editing and I really despise doing THREE of these fuckers in ONE ask. Goddamn NIGHTMARE post.

This ask is in reply to

#69, Carson and Roberto

"I'll pick #69 for the horniest characters," Katie thought. "Surely the funny number will correspond with a song that's worthy of the number." And then Jess looked at her playlist and found Mongolian rock music. Which was good music, but FREAKING HARD to adapt for these characters.

Absolutely no warnings for this, but the others will feature content warnings of a sort.

"What on earth are you listening too?" Carson asked as Roberto was at his desk in the living room, editing a movie script and actually wearing his reading glasses for once.

"Music." Roberto answered, chewing on the end of his pen. A habit he'd developed when he quit smoking.

"I can tell that." Carson deposited the decaf coffee next to his significant other, before taking a sip from his bottle of beer. "But where the heck is it from?"

"Mongolia." Roberto answered. "Bev sent me the album, said 'it fucks severely'. And she was right, it does."

Carson bit back a chuckle. "Of course she did. Is that script even set in Asia?"

"The vibes I need to edit does not have to match the vibes of the screenplay."

"Doesn't answer my question."

Roberto doesn't even glance at him, making a few quick edits and then frowning at something. Carson could have sworn he heard Roberto mutter well that's just a little too cliche for me even as he scribbled something out. Carson just watched him work, and sighed, settling down on the couch with his beer. Roberto's dogs were already fast asleep in their beds.

In a little while, he'd drag him off to bed. But for now, he'd just listen to this music with Roberto, and wonder if that script was set anywhere near Mongolia.

#21, Rusty and Kitty

Well. Sure this won't be sad/dark/SOMETHING EMOTIONAL.

Quick Author's note: This is set sometime in the late 1800s, North Carolina, and contains some allusions period typical racial violence. However, the characters, being capable of resurrection, do more violence in revenge. So you're warned in advance.

The problems always began when the area they'd managed to eek away a safe place to live in became too settled. When more people came, and asked questions about why a black woman and a white man were living together. Of course, Rusty knew that if the situation were reversed, it would be far worse. But still...

Here he and Kitty were, resurrecting in the ashes of their burned cabin. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. Slowly, he got up, and went looking for their stash.

The spare clothes, food and water, and the weapons were out by the time Kitty stirred. Rusty helped her clean up and get dressed before he worried too much about himself. But once they were both done, they looked at each other with tired eyes.

When they'd come home after re-admittance to the Union, they'd both prayed things would get better. But as Reconstruction had faded away, they'd watched it all go to hell again. Rusty didn't even have to ask Kitty, tossing her a fully loaded pistol and a rifle with a bayonet already affixed.

They didn't speak. No banter of Yellowhammer or Tar Heel. Kitty simply crested the slight hill to look down on the town, and when Rusty joined her, she pointed out the houses of each of the men who'd burned down their home. Tired green eyes met exhausted brown ones, and they sat down, recovering and waiting.

And when night had fallen again, when the town was silent and still with sleep, they went down.

They stayed at each other's backs as they broke down doors and walked into bedrooms. As they shot their way through men who had shot them. They only killed the ones who'd been involved, leaving the others in each family behind.

And in the morning, they were somewhere in the mountains, sitting on stolen horses, and nursing cups of coffee with reloaded pistols.

Others in the north could preach about peace. Of a house divided reuniting. But the North, the Union, had abandoned them.

Alabama took North Carolina's hand as she walked them further south. They'd take shelter in Ashton's home for a while. South Carolina would have probably have heard of the murders by the time they got there, but he wouldn't turn out his sister, or Rusty. He'd frown, and quietly let them in.

Violence answered violence. And as long as justice was not served in this country, Rusty and Kitty, along with all the other states, would have blood on their names.

#5, Chris and Evelyn

Not much to work with from a calming, instrumental piece, so I used the title more as the prompt than anything else.

Quick Author's notes: Nothing too serious in this one, but there are some musings on death, so be warned.

They're sitting on the porch of Christopher's home in Wallowa county as the last light of the summer day fades into the night. The insects are singing, and the wind is whispering all around them. Both have Pendleton blankets across their laps, just existing in a peaceful silence.

And then, Chris speaks.

"How do you think it'll be when we die a permanent death? Do you think it'll be violent? Or will we just go to sleep? And- will we leave behind any signs we lived at all?"

Evelyn blinks, startled out of her silent reverie. "Well. How long have you been sitting on that one?"

"A bit." Chris admits, looking out at his horses. "I guess it's mostly in the abstract, but the succession movements always bring it to mind."

Ah, this was about Greater Idaho. Fifty years ago, it was about the State of Jefferson. Ten years ago, it was about Cascadia. Chris and Beverly constantly remembering that if they became too fractured, one or both of them might fall.

"Maybe it'll be violent. But I think we'll just- just disappear." She looked towards the softly colored sky, still clothed in dusk rather than night. "People will know we existed. We'll leave behind some sort of legacy."

Chris looked doubtful on that. She knew why. He'd watched languages and people die, while the conquerors tried to pretend they'd never existed at all. She took his hand.

"If something happened to you, and I was still around, I'd make sure you were remembered. Adam would. Clark would. We all would. I promise you won't just disappear.

He nodded, giving her a grateful look without looking directly at her. As their hands fell apart from each other, she heard him whisper.

"I'd do the same if anything happened to you."

#aph california #aph colorado #aph north carolina #aph alabama #aph oregon #aph kansas #oc roberto #oc carson #oc kitty #oc rusty #oc chris #oc evelyn #ask hipsofsteel #my fic #fuck tumblr in particular for giving me an error message unless i used their ''new improved'' post editior which i hate

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meadowmines · 11 months

Text

OC-Tober Day 21: Different Era

[WOE. ISHIN BE UPON YE.]

It's not often that Aoyagi gets to enjoy a bath in a nice bathhouse at a reasonable hour. He usually just comes in the middle of the night because the place is deserted. But sometimes, just sometimes, the combination of Shinsengumi money burning a hole in his pocket and the stress of having to feed his fellow troops to earn that paycheck line up just right and the second he can get away with shutting the kitchen for the night he puts out the fire and runs like hell to catch a nice hot bath.

Look, do you have any idea how much these animals can eat? You try feeding a pack of ravenous Mibu Wolves and see how much sanity you've got left by the time dinner's over. Sure, it helps that this Saito guy that's just joined up can cook a little and grows some veggies and brings some eggs and fish and stuff in once in a while but goddamn.

Anyway, he said fuck this shit I'm out, grabbed his money, ran to this nice bathhouse, slammed a whole ryo on the counter for an hour of private bathtime, and now he's just letting his cares soak away without having to worry about who might see what's under his clothes.

He thinks he hears some conversation out front, the attendant talking, then a woman's voice (he thinks) saying something he can't quite make out. He ignores it. It's not his problem.

It's not his problem, he thinks, until he hears someone walk in on his private bathtime. His first instinct is to cover up, and he goes as far as sinking neck-deep into the water before he opens his eyes to glare daggers at whoever just walked in. "I dunno if the guy out front told ya," he starts, "but I paid a whole-ass ryo for an hour in private. Wait yer turn."

"Oh, that's fine!" Same voice, but now Aoyagi recognizes it.

Oh. Okay. It's that Sonno Joui asshole. Great. Awesome. Just what he needed tonight.

"I do that too, you know. For the same reason, even!" And without the least little bit of self-consciousness Yamaoka steps right into the water and sits just far enough away that Aoyagi can't bitch about it. "Hey. No need to be shy. We're all men here, right?"

"Sit on a sea urchin," Aoyagi grumbles, averting his eyes. Yamaoka is tall and slim and he's got long legs and big hands and feet and he probably doesn't even have to bind his chest. Aoyagi is chubby and stubby and lives in constant fear that his shit's going to come undone at the worst possible time. Very few people know what's under his clothes--his brother, Captain Okita, the chief, this asshole, and that's about it and he'd like to keep it that way. "C'mon, man. Ya can't wait one hour?"

"Aw, don't be like that!" Yamaoka shrugs innocently. Innocent, Aoyagi's entire ass. "I never see you around anymore. Heard Okita's working you and your brother half to death."

It's not exactly untrue but like hell is Aoyagi going to admit to that right now. "The Captain saved my life," he says as mildly as he can. Now that part is true, even if Aoyagi suspects the man was more excited about adding a few new bloodstains to his collection than he was invested in saving anyone. "I owe him for that."

"Hey, good loyal men like you don't grow on trees. He doesn't know how lucky he is." Yamaoka says with a shit-eating grin. "You know I could get you into the Sonno Joui. Just say the word."

"Really," Aoyagi deadpans. "The way I hear it, my blood's got too much of the West in it for your outfit."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Yamaoka says, casually waving a hand in a way that just happens to flick water right into Aoyagi's face. "We know you're one of the good ones."

"I'm gonna pop ya a good one if ya don't shut the fuck up while I'm tryin' to relax."

All that gets out of Yamaoka is a laugh. Maybe not the heartiest one--sure, Aoyagi makes most of his coin in the kitchen but he picks up a fair bit of scratch kicking asses that need kicked, and he's no slouch with a sword. Yamaoka is a flashy bastard (he struts around Kyo with not one but two revolvers, what kind of asshole even does that!?) and he's got a pretty scary reputation that isn't unearned. He's a crack shot and deadly at range, but he's shit in a close fight and he's got to be considering his chances if Aoyagi just snaps and starts pounding the crap out of him right here in the middle of the bathhouse.

"All right, all right," Yamaoka finally says, hands held up in the most nonthreatening possible gesture. "Yamaoka-no-nii-san's just trying to help, no need to get a big tail about it. So hey, you see the chicken races last night? My girl picked a few winners, let's just say I got lucky more than once..."

Aoyagi holds his nose and quietly slips under the surface of the water and wonders if he can hold his breath until this asshole stops talking.

#oc-tober #yakuza #rgg ishin #yakuza oc #aoyagi saga #passionate manly bathhouse battle... 2!!!

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meeludrawz · 1 year

Note

Here's an ask thing

1. who's your favorite oc?

2. who was your first oc?

3. how many ocs do you have?

4. have you kept all of your

ocs since the beginning?

5. are any of your ocs based

off of a show/book you like?

if so, who?

6. what is the species of the

majority of your ocs?

7. are any of your ocs an

original species? if so,

what's the species and who?

8. if you can, draw (oc name)!

9. write a few sentences as

(oc name)!

10. are any of your ocs part

of a story? if so, what is it

about and who's in it?

11. do you have any twin ocs?

12. are any of your ocs

siblings?

13. what is the gender of the

majority of your ocs?

14. make up a new oc right now

based on (concept/show/color/

etc.)!

15. would you ever give up any

of your ocs?

16. who is your oldest oc

(age-wise)?

17. have you ever roleplayed

as your ocs?

18. how many of your ocs were

adopted from someone else?

19. who is your least favorite

oc?

20. which oc do you think has

changed the most since you

made them?

21. who is your newest oc?

22. have you ever cosplayed

your own ocs? if so, who?

23. which oc do you think has

affected you the most as youve

grown with them?

24. have you gotten cosplayers

of your ocs? if so, of whom?

25. do you have any ocs that

you havent drawn/written as/

talked about in a long time?

if so, who?

(Please ignore this if you either don't want to answer or have had this sent to you already)

Oh boy erm idk, but I do have like 6 mains characters! Matthews, Colefang, Torment, Rosa, Taïko and Meelu! 2. My very first male oc was Matthews! He's hmmmmmmmmm 15 or 14 yrs old now? He's almost like a son to me lmao 3. *Laughs nervously* More than 300? MOST OF THEM ARE BACKGROUND CHARACTERS, whaddya want, when I'm bored I create an oc or two, then I create their kids which is usually more than 3 4. Y e s, even if they're all background characters. Like dude- I spent hours coloring and making their lil family, I won't get rid of them 5. Erm a lot I guess? I have an MLP Next Gen au, I have a TMNT next gen au too, I have some Undertale ocs too, I have an MHA gal but Matthews, his family, friends and lover are based off LPS Toys Matthews was this guy at first, when I didn't know how to draw :3

But I ended up customizing this lps dude so he doesn't look like that anymore (I don't have a pic of him being customized) (Also yes, I kept all my lps toys) 6. Anthros/Furries because I learned drawing animals first! And also cuz my first ocs were lps toys LMAO 7. Yes! I have multiple but the most recent ones are called "Masks" I have made a post about it here: >Click<

8. I'll have to refuse because I will not have the motivation to finish it, but I'm planning to post something about my ocs soon! 9. Okay let's go! Let's write a few sentences as my main ocs Matthews: "I feel energized today! What could I do? Oh! I'll do some snowboard, skateboard, surf, soccer ah let's not forget volleyball!" Colefang: *His two oldest sons are fighting then turn to him* "...I'm not joining, you guys are old enough to figure shit alone... Don't forget the gun I guess" Torment: "My sexuality? As long as someone has an hole for my dick, I'm in" *Winks* Rosa: "Kids? Ugh I hate them- ELIJAH, IVORY IF YOU KEEP BEING LOUD I SWEAR TO HELL- KARSS YOU MOTHER FUCKER TAKE CARE OF YOUR GODDAMN KIDS" *Karss, her husband, pointed out that they're also her kids* Taïko: "You don't understand.. I can't leave my job, they'll kill me if I do.." 10. My main characters all have a story! They're all on the same planet named Andomery! :3 And they will all meet each others at some point 11. Yeah a lot! Matthews eldest daughters ARE twins, Matthews even has a twin brother skskskskksksksksksk 12. Yeah! Matthews has 5 siblings, Colefang has 1, Torment has 9, Rosa has 1, Taïko has 1 and Meelu also has 1 13. I don't know? I know at some point I had lots of girls so I started doing more and more boys to balance this out but at the moment, idk? I think it's balanced now 14. OH erm okay- I made envelopes with little papers in them for each category like- Specie, Gender, Colors.. LET'S MAKE A BABY SKELETON (I need one for my current fanfic lol) FIRST specie, well that's done.. GENDER let's pick number generator and put the max at 3. 1 = Girl, 2 = Boy and 3 = Nonbinary........... It landed on 1 ! A girl! :D Usually, when the character has parents, I pick all colors of both parents then choose randomely, a bit like a breeding game For example, her dad has yellow eyes and her mom are brown, so let's pick: Yellow, Amber, Orange, Bronze and Brown, which are 5 so max on the number generator will be 5. Number generator said 2! So she has amber eyes! So a white skeleton girl with amber eyes! How pretty :3 Idk what I'll name her yet 15. N o p e Tried even doing adopts, but can't 16. Matthews! He's about 14 or 15 yrs old! :D 17. Yes! Always! All the time! For example, in a Warrior Cats rp, I'll just make them look like normal cats and give them a warrior name. If I remember well, Matthews was named BarkFoot? 18. Maybe like 10? I know Meelu's oldest son was adopted from someone else 19. Queen Anastasia Bulcio and Calvin Wade. Anastasia is Matthews' aunt and she's a bitch. But the kind of bitch you don't like. (I'm saying this cuz Rosa is a bitch but I love her) and Calvin.. He's an asshole and Torment's ennemy. That's it lol 20. TORMENT HAHAHA at first he was one of the scariest characters I owned, he made the law in the streets and the king was almost nothing compared to him. But then he found love and now he's an adult-who-act-like-a-horny-troublemaker-teenager-24/7. He's so funny to play! 21. Well, the skeleton we made a few answers ago! 22. TAÏKO BACK WHEN HE WAS A WOLF AND NOT AN ORC! One of my ex-friend makes Fursuits and I was trying to make one too so she helped me, he looked awful. But it was him lol 23. I'd say Meelu, Matthews and Torment. Meelu has this confidence and inner peace that I'd wish I had. (Hi anxiety) Matthews' an optimistic and a bit dumb but his life is much easier since he doesn't worry and I wish I had that buuuut! I'm getting to it! I've been happier in the past few months! And Torment? Well uh I just love how he sees fun in almost anything and how he doesn't take everything seriously 24. Nu I didn't but I hope maybe one day? 25. Well a lot of them actually? Back when I was a child and teenager, I used to rp and play with them a lot but now that I'm an adult, I have less time for them and that's quite sad ngl Thanks for these questions anon! Have a good day/evening!!

#meelu speaks #ask game #andomery #yes

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mrs-snape5984 · 3 months

Text

“There is more to love than this. Love is more than just a kiss…”

“And will you, bring the thunder in my life and the fire in my eyes? ‘Cause then, there will be days of pleasure and everything far will be so near…” (“Ich kenne nichts” by Xavier Naidoo feat. RZA)

Struggling with several diseases and disabilities, especially since I’m being tortured by the countless symptoms of this goddamn bitch sickness ME/CFS, made me lose my self-esteem and my self-confidence. For the past two years, I was convinced, that the pain as well as my supposedly unstoppable physical and mental decay have taken a toll on my personality. The bold, strong and self-reliant woman and mother, I’ve been before, was gone.

Well, at least, that’s what I thought! Some months ago, I discovered that this woman had not disappeared. On the contrary, she’s still living inside my soul…stubbornly raging at my condition and the confines of my body…and yet, she’s full of hope for better days.

I must admit, that I had some help with this insight. There are friends in my life, who managed to encourage me opening my eyes to see, what’s laying beneath the weak shell of my body. And I found something else. I found love! An unconditional, honest love, which makes me feel so grateful for being alive, no matter how this life might look like, at the moment.

I’ve always fought with intrusive thoughts and self-loathing…but since I am allowed to see myself through the eyes of this special person, there’s something awakening in me, which I’ve never experienced before: Self-acceptance. Slowly but surely, I’m beginning to accept, that I don’t need to be a perfectly shaped, beautiful, studious and healthy woman to be loveable. It seems as if even I - with all my flaws, my traumas, my vulnerabilities and my fears - am worthy of being loved. I couldn’t be more blessed with this realisation…and with the fact, that this special person welcomes my love with open arms in return.

For this breathtaking artwork of Severus and my - undeniably self-inserted - OC Jules I’ve commissioned my friend @hannisimp. Lin, my dear, you’ve done an amazing job with the fulfilment of my ideas. Witnessing Severus and Jules in this intimate and trustful situation makes my heart melt into a puddle. The exchange of their glances is so powerful, so touching…and despite their flaws, there’s a certain knowledge palpable between them: “Ich kenne nichts, das so schön ist wie du!” (= i don't know anything as beautiful as you).

Thank you for making my dream come true in your art, Lin! You’re an incredibly talented artist and a wonderful person. Feel hugged, my dear! 🫂🖤

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

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mar1066 · 2 years

Text

I posted 25,794 times in 2022

17 posts created (0%)

25,777 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@meh-66

@g-a-y-g-o-y-l-e

@raptorofwar

@demilypyro

@toastling

I tagged 1,483 of my posts in 2022

#nona the ninth spoilers - 179 posts

#oc - 21 posts

#akarsha - 19 posts

#butterfly soup - 19 posts

#noelle - 14 posts

#yea - 14 posts

#noelle butterfly soup - 13 posts

#screams - 13 posts

#min - 12 posts

#griddlehark - 12 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#‘have you heard the good news? jesus is a butch lesbian! here have this bible! don’t you like the cover? yes it *is* a lot of skeletons’

My Top Posts in 2022:

See the full post

51 notes - Posted February 23, 2022

Decided to remake the original post now that I have a file with all the official assets already set up in it, instead of using rips from the wiki, and figured I would give y'all a gif instead of just reposting a better version of the old one.

Speaking of which - would people be interested in that file? It's just a .psd, nothing special really, but you can stick it in photopea or photoshop or equivalent photo editing program and make this kinda stuff yourself. (More detail after the cut so I don't make this too long.)

The current state rn is pretty bare bones tbh. Just the standard dialog box & name plate with text boxes set up for both, and all the sprites for DAMN in their component pieces. There's also a version with all the backgrounds in as well, but it makes my poor little laptop chug like hell. But I could flesh it out more if people want. It's just a matter of tossing the assets from folders on my comp to folders in the file. I could also probably make a quick tutorial for using it in photopea if there's a need.

The main question is how to disseminate it, since I can't just slap a file directly into a tumblr post. I think dropbox would work, but I'm open to suggestions.

P. S. to anyone that says I should put it up on picrew: I tried. picrew only allows square images and putting black bars on the top and bottom of every single goddamn image is just. No. If there's a better place like that to do it I'd love to hear about it though.

64 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

DAMN x Incorrect Quote Generator (a series)

See the full post

72 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

I don't expect there to be much overlap btwn these fandoms but im having a Time rn

94 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

See the full post

161 notes - Posted March 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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1kook · 4 years

Text

skirt chasers — drabble iv

THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE ! SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_- RATING m (18+) WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf

NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3

He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…”

Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane.

Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot.

He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form.

It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds.

They were his favorite.

Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this.

God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month.

But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity.

As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings.

He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream.

But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him.

Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping.

He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since!

Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind.

So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck.

Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!

It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching.

Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go.

He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen.

But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins.

He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?”

“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world.

You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.”

He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.”

You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here.

“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action.

“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes.

“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high.

You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time.

Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down.

You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.”

Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now.

He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”

You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly.

A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist.

“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy.

Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can.

And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck.

“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer.

“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question.

You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets.

“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.”

You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides.

A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.

He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry.

“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes.

As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be.

Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest.

He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly.

Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?”

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign.

He strikes while the iron is still hot.

It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion.

Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort.

“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months.

However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it.

Kinda.

Probably.

Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over.

He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“

“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing.

“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”

“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders.

If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off.

And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face.

The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing.

Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting.

(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.)

One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you.

He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone.

Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more.

You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs.

Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it.

And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him.

It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top.

Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror.

He’s never seen you like this before.

Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life.

He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips.

And then something unforgivable happens.

Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information.

Your hand.

The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness.

Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face.

He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant.

Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.”

It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.”

You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him.

“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.

A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him.

Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip.

You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now.

The sympathy doesn’t last long.

Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams.

Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand.

But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this.

“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches.

There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can’t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are.

Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out.

“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him.

You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead.

It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.”

He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands.

“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!)

Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”

Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead.

“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises.

It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock.

Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon.

He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time.

When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.”

A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago.

His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap.

There was never a choice.

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